Bleach - [Nerielle/Nnoitra] - Smoke and Mirrors
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Pairing: Nerielle/Nnoitra
Rating: PG-13
Squicks/Spoilers: Spoilers from the late 200's?
Summary: A midnight visit goes wrong.
Author's Note: Written for xiao_baka's pr0ntober request~ Not quite as smutty as intended.
Hueco Mundo nights were always as cool and dry as Las Noches was empty and calm under the night sky, but it didn't seem that way from the way his head seemed to pound.
She was sleeping. Her fraccion were only a room away, but none of them had stirred, not since he'd stepped into her quarters. Everything seemed still and airless, shushing him into a breathless silence, even as the sounds his boots made seemed thunderous.
He knew what it was, of course. Fear, that damnable thing that lurked in every hollow's soul, dancing against pride, anger, jealousy, and so many other cruel emotions. None of them were free of them, but it was pride that kept any from admitting it and pride that had drawn him here.
He took a slow, uneasy breath, watching the way her slender fingers curled with a childish innocence against her sheets. She was naked, of course, sheets haphazardly thrown about. Her mouth hung slightly open and, no matter how attractive she might have looked at that moment, nothing but anger had filled him.
How dare she? His fingers had lifted to his chest, pressing against the mark she'd left on him just hours before. How dare she sleep like this, resting as if she didn't have a care in the world? Nails tightened against his skin as he felt his breaths grow more quickly paced.
He hated her, her smooth, worry-free face more prone to smiling than it ever was to fear. His fingers felt sticky between the sweat that had been crawling along them, cooled only by the chill air and the blood that had started to trickle free from the wound.
He wondered if he could kill her now. She'd regret it, wouldn't she? That she hadn't killed that beast before he'd killed her. He'd make it just slow enough that he could watch her face as he did it.
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to, his thumb brushing against the other fingers, sticky with blood. He'd make her bleed just the same.
Wordlessly, breathlessly, he approached, fingers moving down to his zanpakutou. He could practically feel it thrumming with his own excitement. Just a little more, just a little more and all would be right with the world.
He stood above her, letting his zanpakutou slide into its proper form, the one just a step away from its full release. So close, so close. He could practically taste her blood without even spilling it.
The bed rocked as he buried his blade into the sheets, mattress, and all, its creaking breaking the silence as his rage broke the bed.
He didn't feel the blade against his throat until it sunk in just enough to cut hierro, Nerielle's breath against his cheek. He felt his body crumpling against hers. The taste of death was in his mouth and he craved it, not sure whether he wanted it to be his or hers anymore.
"Kill me," he hissed, hating the way it sounded. He heard the clatter of her fraccion from the other room, far away beneath sounds of his heart and her breath.
"Please," he spat, gritting his teeth, humiliation warming him like the press of her bare breasts against his back.
She only pulled away.