(no subject)
Title: Denial
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 127
Warning: incest, boy kissing
Characters: Szayel, Illforte, Tesla
Pairing: Szayel/Illforte, Szayel/Tesla
Notes: Uh. Yeah. Considering that my OTP is one of the most fluffiest pairings in the Bleach fandom, it's probably surprising that I like this pairing. But I do. xD This is really fail, but I hope it's readable. ^_^;; For Granzcest day and nendo_chan, because she's awesome. <3
Szayel was not sad when he received news that his brother was dead.
In fact, he felt nothing at all.
Illforte was trash, after all. He was weak. He deserved to be crushed under the heels of those pathetic Shinigami. Why would Szayel waste his precious time grieving for someone like that? (He was mildly annoyed that now he would need to find a new play-thing.)
And when he pressed the whimpering fraccion up against the lab table, he did not yearn for Illforte’s taller, more slender body. When he fisted his hands in short blonde hair, his fingers did not seek vainly for long, silky locks. When he closed his eyes and lowered his head to Tesla’s chest, Illforte’s image did not dance behind his eyelids.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 127
Warning: incest, boy kissing
Characters: Szayel, Illforte, Tesla
Pairing: Szayel/Illforte, Szayel/Tesla
Notes: Uh. Yeah. Considering that my OTP is one of the most fluffiest pairings in the Bleach fandom, it's probably surprising that I like this pairing. But I do. xD This is really fail, but I hope it's readable. ^_^;; For Granzcest day and nendo_chan, because she's awesome. <3
Szayel was not sad when he received news that his brother was dead.
In fact, he felt nothing at all.
Illforte was trash, after all. He was weak. He deserved to be crushed under the heels of those pathetic Shinigami. Why would Szayel waste his precious time grieving for someone like that? (He was mildly annoyed that now he would need to find a new play-thing.)
And when he pressed the whimpering fraccion up against the lab table, he did not yearn for Illforte’s taller, more slender body. When he fisted his hands in short blonde hair, his fingers did not seek vainly for long, silky locks. When he closed his eyes and lowered his head to Tesla’s chest, Illforte’s image did not dance behind his eyelids.