Fic: (Bleach) - Illusions
Title: Illusions
Author: regasssa
Summary: Written for the Anonymous Hump Day meme
Pairing: RyuukenxUryuu
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, non-con, violence, (Qu)incest
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach, and I think he would cry if he saw this; I do not own these characters and make nothing from the use of them except for securing my own personal ticket on the train to hell.
Ryuuken's fingers tangled in his hair; they wound themselves in tightly, as though around weeds that were being wrenched from the earth, and then his head was pulled abruptly back, and the pain from that single action brought fresh tears to his eyes. Uryuu tried to resist, and every time he did, it only made it worse; but worse would always be more noble than better. Better meant moaning, with his father's hand wrapped tightly around a burgeoning erection. It meant moaning into all-too-familiar lips. It meant that things were worse than ever.
When he resisted, it was fine. If he fought long enough, then the pain of it all would make pleasure impossible, no matter how hard Ryuuken tried. He pulled away now, because the lips were at his throat, kissing tenderly. Too tenderly, with that hand coiled around his limp penis, stroking, coaxing. No. No!
He kicked -- the chains rattled around his feet and held him in place, and he was helpless, fighting against parts of him that were simply uncontrollable. Parts of him that if he had known that he would have to fight one day he might have tried to do something about it. To desensitize himself. Hell, if he had known this was going to happen, he'd have probably self-mutilated in an effort to prevent it. It was too much; too much when once again he felt his body reacting traitorously to the orders of his mind and heart.
"Don't fight it, Uryuu. There's no point trying to fight it. I told you last time."
His father's hair tickles at his chest, and now he is letting go of Uryuu's hair, reaching down instead to wrap one firm arm around his hips to prevent his escape. He shivered, knowing what was coming, unable to fight against it; eyes brimming with tears that he was helpless to prevent.
"Is this your Quincy pride?" came the cruel voice; the vibration of it tickling the on-end hairs that led a path down his abdomen. "Does it hurt?"
He didn't speak. He'd learnt not to try. Everything he had once said had always made it worse. But Ryuuken was correct; it hurt, because he was not sure that he remembered what pride was. Or how it had felt. It was as though a piece of him had been simply ripped away.
Soft fingertips were crawling underneath him now, taking him feather-gently in an open hand as warm lips brushed too-soft kisses down the length of his arousal. The blood was rushing from his head, as it always did, and he felt the shame tingling at his blood-less cheeks, his self-respect trickling away like the cold-sweat down his back. He pulled at the chains that held his hands up above his head. He could try breaking his arm again...that had worked last time, even if he had been left hanging there in agony for a week before he found himself healed. That had been punishment enough to dissuade him.
The warm mouth opened to encompass him, tongue slithering mercilessly underneath his erection, slick and soft and wonderful, as though it had been bourne by the devil itself. The desire to fight was evaporating now, like the rest of his being had been evaporating for months. How much of Ishida Uryuu could be left after this onslaught? Ishida Uryuu. His name -- the one he shared with this demon in his father's skin. Was he broken already? Would this suffering ever end? Part of him wished, sincerely, that Mayuri had not saved him; he might have died painfully, but he would have been dead, and it would have been a greater salvation than living through this, day after day.
The tight throat welcomes him, muscles working like clamps, wet and working ceaselessly against his tender skin. The tongue moves, coils and lifts, teasing him against the roof of Ryuuken's mouth, against his perfect, shark-like smile; the one that says 'Yes, it's that time again.' The torture is merciless. Strands of hair swish against his thighs as Ryuuken begins to move, just rocking back and forth to make the sensation unforgiveably sublime. Too good. Uryuu knew that he'd been undone, letting out the frightened gasp of a moan that had climbed up his throat.
It almost always ended like this. It was impossible to keep fighting. Any moment now, he would beg and scream, and then it would be blissfully over for another day -- blissfully, as he hung suspended, dripping in his own sweat, come dribbling down his legs, surrendered to the inevitability of his own destruction.
And behind the glass, Szayel Aporro Granz watched the scene play out again, and he smiled.
Author: regasssa
Summary: Written for the Anonymous Hump Day meme
Pairing: RyuukenxUryuu
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, non-con, violence, (Qu)incest
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach, and I think he would cry if he saw this; I do not own these characters and make nothing from the use of them except for securing my own personal ticket on the train to hell.
Ryuuken's fingers tangled in his hair; they wound themselves in tightly, as though around weeds that were being wrenched from the earth, and then his head was pulled abruptly back, and the pain from that single action brought fresh tears to his eyes. Uryuu tried to resist, and every time he did, it only made it worse; but worse would always be more noble than better. Better meant moaning, with his father's hand wrapped tightly around a burgeoning erection. It meant moaning into all-too-familiar lips. It meant that things were worse than ever.
When he resisted, it was fine. If he fought long enough, then the pain of it all would make pleasure impossible, no matter how hard Ryuuken tried. He pulled away now, because the lips were at his throat, kissing tenderly. Too tenderly, with that hand coiled around his limp penis, stroking, coaxing. No. No!
He kicked -- the chains rattled around his feet and held him in place, and he was helpless, fighting against parts of him that were simply uncontrollable. Parts of him that if he had known that he would have to fight one day he might have tried to do something about it. To desensitize himself. Hell, if he had known this was going to happen, he'd have probably self-mutilated in an effort to prevent it. It was too much; too much when once again he felt his body reacting traitorously to the orders of his mind and heart.
"Don't fight it, Uryuu. There's no point trying to fight it. I told you last time."
His father's hair tickles at his chest, and now he is letting go of Uryuu's hair, reaching down instead to wrap one firm arm around his hips to prevent his escape. He shivered, knowing what was coming, unable to fight against it; eyes brimming with tears that he was helpless to prevent.
"Is this your Quincy pride?" came the cruel voice; the vibration of it tickling the on-end hairs that led a path down his abdomen. "Does it hurt?"
He didn't speak. He'd learnt not to try. Everything he had once said had always made it worse. But Ryuuken was correct; it hurt, because he was not sure that he remembered what pride was. Or how it had felt. It was as though a piece of him had been simply ripped away.
Soft fingertips were crawling underneath him now, taking him feather-gently in an open hand as warm lips brushed too-soft kisses down the length of his arousal. The blood was rushing from his head, as it always did, and he felt the shame tingling at his blood-less cheeks, his self-respect trickling away like the cold-sweat down his back. He pulled at the chains that held his hands up above his head. He could try breaking his arm again...that had worked last time, even if he had been left hanging there in agony for a week before he found himself healed. That had been punishment enough to dissuade him.
The warm mouth opened to encompass him, tongue slithering mercilessly underneath his erection, slick and soft and wonderful, as though it had been bourne by the devil itself. The desire to fight was evaporating now, like the rest of his being had been evaporating for months. How much of Ishida Uryuu could be left after this onslaught? Ishida Uryuu. His name -- the one he shared with this demon in his father's skin. Was he broken already? Would this suffering ever end? Part of him wished, sincerely, that Mayuri had not saved him; he might have died painfully, but he would have been dead, and it would have been a greater salvation than living through this, day after day.
The tight throat welcomes him, muscles working like clamps, wet and working ceaselessly against his tender skin. The tongue moves, coils and lifts, teasing him against the roof of Ryuuken's mouth, against his perfect, shark-like smile; the one that says 'Yes, it's that time again.' The torture is merciless. Strands of hair swish against his thighs as Ryuuken begins to move, just rocking back and forth to make the sensation unforgiveably sublime. Too good. Uryuu knew that he'd been undone, letting out the frightened gasp of a moan that had climbed up his throat.
It almost always ended like this. It was impossible to keep fighting. Any moment now, he would beg and scream, and then it would be blissfully over for another day -- blissfully, as he hung suspended, dripping in his own sweat, come dribbling down his legs, surrendered to the inevitability of his own destruction.
And behind the glass, Szayel Aporro Granz watched the scene play out again, and he smiled.