Fic: (Bleach) - Instinct - for the amazing visualcomplex
Title: Instinct
Author: regasssa
Requestee: visualcomplex
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Grimmjow/Renji, implied Grimmjow/Byakuya?
Words: 2414
Warnings: Non-con out the yazoo, breath play, bondage, violence, lots of blood, penetration
Prompt: I was asked for a 'real bad' Grimmjow/Renji fic complete with 'dirty talk, smacking, a bit of violence and penetration damn it!' I'm afraid I couldn't get the smacking in, because Grimmjow's hands were not appropriately positioned for that, what with holding Renji down, but Grimmy seriously likes talking and violence and penetration, so the rest of it was easy as pie.
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo Tite who I love, by the way, cute giggle is cute. Marry me?
Author's notes: All is not what it seems, so I'm not marking this OOC no matter how strange Renji's actions might seem at first.
X-posted to Bleach_Yaoi
The chains rattled, and Grimmjow roared and pulled against them, even though they bit deep into his already tender wrists. He hated it. He hated that damn captain with the long black hair and the cold, hateful eyes that bore into him every time he came to check the cell. He hated the way his lips, pressed into a thin line, curled in satisfaction at the edges before he turned away; a flash of the number six emblazoned inKanji on his back, and then he was gone.
Damn, damn, damn! If he ever got out of here he was going to pound his fist into that man's smirk until it went all the way through his head and out the other side! Who the hell did he think he was?
Each and every one of them had come to gawk at him -- but between them, the Captain and Lieutenant of the Sixth squad had been the most frequent. He was the last living Espada, a feat he was quite pleased with, even if it made him the subject of so much unwanted attention. Grimmjow had decided he didn't mind the redhead as much as his Captain; there was something more animalistic in the way that man looked at him, as though his instincts were drawing him back and he didn't know why. Grimmjow knew -- he could smell it -- so he let the attention come, because if his instincts were right, then the Lieutenant would be his ticket out of here.
He waited until the smell of arousal was unbearable that evening, and then he met the redhead's firestorm eyes and very deliberately ran his tongue across his lips.
The reaction was almost instantaneous. As though he had been planning it for months, the Shinigami Lieutenant crossed the room, pulling open the door to his cage and stepping inside. Grimmjow could smell the sweat of restraint on him, and now he could see a trickle of it running down the curve of the man's throat, crossing the black tattoo that disappeared under the edge of the loose robes, implying that they continued further down.
Grimmjow knew better than to let his own desire devour him -- it was in his nature to conquer things this way, and the Shinigami had made a fatal mistake entering the cage with him. Perhaps he didn't know how much chain he had been afforded; he had, after all, sat quite still in this chair during every visit, and rattled his chains just slightly, to remind the redhead that they were there.
He was in no hurry to enlighten him, so he waited, like a cat waited for a rat to emerge from beneath the floorboards, drawn by its hunger; the Shinigami was his prey, and his ticket out of here, regardless of whether or not he knew it.
"What are you doing?" Grimmjow whispered, keeping his voice low, as though he were secretly hiding his fear. The Shinigami wordlessly reached for the tie that held his hakama closed, clearly eager to get started, and the thick, heavy scent of arousal was almost stifling as the hakama fell to the floor.
"I see," Grimmjow pressed, knowing that his every word would only egg the wanton Shinigami on. "That's how you do things in Seireitei, is it?"
"Shut up!" snapped the Shinigami. "You don't know anything!"
"You're right. I usually know the names of the people I'm going to kill."
"Abarai Renji," came the growled reply, "And I told you to shut up."
Grimmjow turned his face away as the Shinigami pulled his erection from his underwear, rubbing earnestly at it. Revolting man... He sighed, showing his disgust through disassociation, watching the tattooed brows furrow in anger out of the corner of his eyes.
There, that was it. The Shinigami called Renji was seeing red now...
It was so simple. In a flash he was on his feet, and Renji didn't have time to even fight back as Grimmjow wrapped one coil of chain neatly around his neck and threw him down onto the tatami, tightening the makeshift noose by moving his cuffed hand away from the other one. He crouched over him, licking his lips, letting his eyes roam hungrily over the prone body. Renji's kimono had fallen open, revealing the extensiveness of the tattoos, and underneath them his arousal, red and swollen and bare.
"Imagine if your Captain saw you like this," Grimmjow tutted. "I don't think you'd be Lieutenant for long, do you?"
Renji gargled, and Grimmjow's lips curled into a feral grin, "Was that 'Shut up', Shinigami?" He loosened the chain just a little, so that he could see the Shinigami swallow and pant, getting his breath back. "That's what I thought. Be a good boy and pull off my obi. If I tried to move my arms down there, I'd probably pull this chain right through your neck, and then you wouldn't be able to scream when I fuck you, would you?"
It was difficult to have a conversation with someone who couldn't talk, but Grimmjow didn't have to hear Renji to know what he was thinking. This was denial and disgust, hatred. But didn't the Shinigami deserve it? After all, he had come here with the intention of raping the defenceless prisoner... His grin spread a little further as this realisation seemed to dawn on Renji, who did as he had been told, reaching up with shaking hands to pull the obi away, letting Grimmjow's prisoner-issue white kimono fall open.
His own eager arousal clearly startled the breathless Lieutenant.
"Don't stop now," Grimmjow prompted. "You were doing so well." He shifted his hips forward. "Take it in your hand, Shinigami."
Renji did; his rough, battle-calloused hand was hot and wet with nerves and arousal, and it felt blissfully good as it wrapped around him.
"Do I have to walk you through every part of this?" Grimmjow complained, baring his teeth.
Renji began to palm the arousal tentatively, and it was such a wonderful sensation that Grimmjow decided not to be so angry about it. He could tell the Shinigami was testing the weight of it -- wondering, perhaps, how much it would hurt when he buried it inside of him.
"Filth," Grimmjow growled, victoriously. "You just thought you'd walk in here and have your way with me. Noble protector of the Gotei 13!" He barked out a laugh and ground his hips forward, thrusting down so hard that he crushed Renji's hand at a painful angle, driving his prick into his well-muscled belly. "You disgust me."
"Don't." Renji's voice was small; he croaked, rather than spoke.
"When I get out of here," Grimmjow went on, "I'm going to fuck my way through your Captain's head -- make him regret looking at me like that. Nobody looks at me like that!"
The Shinigami's eyes widened, and he tried to pull away, even when the chains dug into his neck. It took him a moment to give up and sink back down, gasping for air. "You want to protect him?" Grimmjow sneered.
"No," the redhead admitted, a flush just now crawling up over his cheeks.
"Oh," Grimmjow laughed, "So you want to fuck him too? That's why you came here sniffing around me, is it? Can't have one Sexta, so you'll have another. Is that why you look so angry when I say you disgust me? It's cause you disgust him too."
"Go to hell!" Renji snarled.
"I'll get there eventually," Grimmjow sneered. "Right now, I think you should keep stroking me before I lose my temper and tear yer head off instead."
To his credit, the Shinigami did exactly what he'd been told, and Grimmjow groaned and thrust into his hand, watching Renji wince every time he did so, his wrist bent back between them. It didn't seem to be affecting his arousal, which wept against the inside of his thigh and twitched against his skin with every eager thrust.
"You want me to fuck you." Victory now, and mirth dripping out of his every word.
"No," Renji begged.
"Liar," Grimmjow laughed. "Smell that, Shinigami? Hormones. Ejaculate. Sweat. You want it so bad you hate yourself for it. Don't worry," he snarled, "I'll make you scream so hard you'll forget all about liking it."
Grimmjow edged back, using his knees to force Renji's legs apart, moving up underneath him so that he could bend down and press his lips to one of the tattoos on the broad chest, inhaling. There it was -- underneath the flavour of sex and longing -- the powerful scent of spirit; a Shinigami reiatsu that was, if he so willed it, his to be devoured. A Shinigami Lieutenant. Would it destroy the noble captain to discover that his second seat had been raped and eaten by an escaped Espada? He smirked at the thought. First, though...
He ran his tongue upward, watching the Shinigami keen and whimper, simply unable to resist; his sweat tasted salty and delicious, and if he listened really hard he could hear the rattling of Renji's breath as it was dragged through his narrowed airway. He didn't fight; the chains were keeping him in check, but he did raise his chest, shivering in denial as Grimmjow's tongue was removed from it after only a few too-short moments.
"Beg me for it first, Shinigami," growled the Espada, panting himself, now. There would be no preparation; whether or not the Shinigami had brought lubricant wasn't his concern. He'd already promised to split him into two, but he was going to make the Shinigami plead for it first.
"Never," hissed the redhead, and twisted away.
"I said beg for it!" Grimmjow snarled, biting sharply at one of the man's proud nipples, watching the pain and shock erupt across his features. That clearly wasn't arousing at all, and for a moment it was as though a curtain had been lifted behind the Shinigami's eyes, and suddenly he was very aware that he was about to be raped, or worse, and he turned his head away.
"Guess I warned you," Grimmjow spat, and pushed himself into place against the Shinigami's unprepared entrance.
"No, don't," Renji cried, twisting now, panic pouring unrestrained into his expression, as though he had broken what resolve had been there up until that point. It was about time that the Shinigami realised what this was all about -- that it wasn't just about his lust, but the fear of the act; the fact that it was non-consensual. And to think that he, Abarai Renji had wanted to do it to him. The realisation reared like a vicious monster behind those frightened eyes. What had he been about to do? How could he have stooped so very low? To treat anyone like that -- even a Hollow.
The Shinigami's skin felt feverous against his own, and when he pushed into him, the scream that at first was held back and then poured out of him like the most beautiful kind of sin, was the most compelling thing he'd ever heard. Renji's tortured throat added a reedy note to the already agonising screech, and Grimmjow pressed in hard, tearing apart the tight, almost painfully resistant orifice. When he drew out, the hot blood that he had thrust into stained him, and with a laugh that went unheard under the soundtrack of agony, he drove in again, the lubrication freeing him to pound violently into the body underneath him.
It took very little, he thought, to subdue the Shinigami, once the desperate thrashing stilled and the nails on his chest stopped clawing and simply grabbed for purchase; all concentration seemed to go into just breathing. Grimmjow was careful not to tighten the chain by accident -- it wouldn't do to give the Shinigami the mercy of passing out. He wanted him screaming; he wanted the pain of every little moment to be permanently tattooed onto the man's mind. And when he was done, Abarai Renji would not forget the lesson that he had been brutally taught.
The screaming was too much though; it was pure bliss -- like music to his ears, though he had never heard any music. But this must be what it sounded like. What was more perfect than a warriors throat played with the only sound that truly undid him? It brought him to an orgasm that he had expected to hold off for a little while longer, but it didn't matter; after all, there was a certain proud Shinigami Captain that would be waiting for him.
He released the Lieutenant, carefully unlooping the chain from around his neck and letting out a shudder. He couldn't afford to doze off, had to force himself to get up onto his feet so that he didn't sucuumb to the dangerous urge to curl up on the Shinigami's chest and purr and sleep off his orgasm. His legs were wobbling - just slightly - but Grimmjow had never allowed for weakness, not even after sex. It was part of who he was.
He shook himself hard, then reached down, pulling the Shinigami's hakama on over his open white kimono. The rough, slightly damp material grated over his sensitive cock, making him close his eyes tightly for a moment to resist the itch of pain that tickled over the sore skin -- maybe Renji had been tighter than he had expected.
On the floor, the Shinigami was attempting to move. He was a mess, blood pooling between his legs, and yet he was still valiantly trying to stop him, reaching for his zanpukuto, which Grimmjow reached down and took, unsheathing it. "I heard Shinigami weren't allowed to let their sword be used by others...I hope you don't mind, but mine's been taken away." He smirked, satisfied, and slashed it through the chains, freeing himself. He twisted his wrists, feeling the cool air on the wounds and rejoicing in the stab of pain that meant that he was free.
"Why?" the broken man whimpered, giving up in his efforts to reach Grimmjow; clearly recognising the extent of his injuries. There was something else behind his eyes, a confusion that he had started this in the first place. He was beginning to understand that it wasn't his doing, and Grimmjow smiled.
"Hormones, Shinigami," he purred, deciding to spare him, because his superiors would not, when they discovered what he'd done. "You came to me like a cat in heat -- there wasn't any way you could have stopped it."
Grinning, quite satisfied, Grimmjow navigated his way out of the bars and across the room -- he had to get going before the screams finally brought someone running, and he had a certain Shinigami Captain to visit.
Author: regasssa
Requestee: visualcomplex
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Grimmjow/Renji, implied Grimmjow/Byakuya?
Words: 2414
Warnings: Non-con out the yazoo, breath play, bondage, violence, lots of blood, penetration
Prompt: I was asked for a 'real bad' Grimmjow/Renji fic complete with 'dirty talk, smacking, a bit of violence and penetration damn it!' I'm afraid I couldn't get the smacking in, because Grimmjow's hands were not appropriately positioned for that, what with holding Renji down, but Grimmy seriously likes talking and violence and penetration, so the rest of it was easy as pie.
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo Tite who I love, by the way, cute giggle is cute. Marry me?
Author's notes: All is not what it seems, so I'm not marking this OOC no matter how strange Renji's actions might seem at first.
X-posted to Bleach_Yaoi
The chains rattled, and Grimmjow roared and pulled against them, even though they bit deep into his already tender wrists. He hated it. He hated that damn captain with the long black hair and the cold, hateful eyes that bore into him every time he came to check the cell. He hated the way his lips, pressed into a thin line, curled in satisfaction at the edges before he turned away; a flash of the number six emblazoned inKanji on his back, and then he was gone.
Damn, damn, damn! If he ever got out of here he was going to pound his fist into that man's smirk until it went all the way through his head and out the other side! Who the hell did he think he was?
Each and every one of them had come to gawk at him -- but between them, the Captain and Lieutenant of the Sixth squad had been the most frequent. He was the last living Espada, a feat he was quite pleased with, even if it made him the subject of so much unwanted attention. Grimmjow had decided he didn't mind the redhead as much as his Captain; there was something more animalistic in the way that man looked at him, as though his instincts were drawing him back and he didn't know why. Grimmjow knew -- he could smell it -- so he let the attention come, because if his instincts were right, then the Lieutenant would be his ticket out of here.
He waited until the smell of arousal was unbearable that evening, and then he met the redhead's firestorm eyes and very deliberately ran his tongue across his lips.
The reaction was almost instantaneous. As though he had been planning it for months, the Shinigami Lieutenant crossed the room, pulling open the door to his cage and stepping inside. Grimmjow could smell the sweat of restraint on him, and now he could see a trickle of it running down the curve of the man's throat, crossing the black tattoo that disappeared under the edge of the loose robes, implying that they continued further down.
Grimmjow knew better than to let his own desire devour him -- it was in his nature to conquer things this way, and the Shinigami had made a fatal mistake entering the cage with him. Perhaps he didn't know how much chain he had been afforded; he had, after all, sat quite still in this chair during every visit, and rattled his chains just slightly, to remind the redhead that they were there.
He was in no hurry to enlighten him, so he waited, like a cat waited for a rat to emerge from beneath the floorboards, drawn by its hunger; the Shinigami was his prey, and his ticket out of here, regardless of whether or not he knew it.
"What are you doing?" Grimmjow whispered, keeping his voice low, as though he were secretly hiding his fear. The Shinigami wordlessly reached for the tie that held his hakama closed, clearly eager to get started, and the thick, heavy scent of arousal was almost stifling as the hakama fell to the floor.
"I see," Grimmjow pressed, knowing that his every word would only egg the wanton Shinigami on. "That's how you do things in Seireitei, is it?"
"Shut up!" snapped the Shinigami. "You don't know anything!"
"You're right. I usually know the names of the people I'm going to kill."
"Abarai Renji," came the growled reply, "And I told you to shut up."
Grimmjow turned his face away as the Shinigami pulled his erection from his underwear, rubbing earnestly at it. Revolting man... He sighed, showing his disgust through disassociation, watching the tattooed brows furrow in anger out of the corner of his eyes.
There, that was it. The Shinigami called Renji was seeing red now...
It was so simple. In a flash he was on his feet, and Renji didn't have time to even fight back as Grimmjow wrapped one coil of chain neatly around his neck and threw him down onto the tatami, tightening the makeshift noose by moving his cuffed hand away from the other one. He crouched over him, licking his lips, letting his eyes roam hungrily over the prone body. Renji's kimono had fallen open, revealing the extensiveness of the tattoos, and underneath them his arousal, red and swollen and bare.
"Imagine if your Captain saw you like this," Grimmjow tutted. "I don't think you'd be Lieutenant for long, do you?"
Renji gargled, and Grimmjow's lips curled into a feral grin, "Was that 'Shut up', Shinigami?" He loosened the chain just a little, so that he could see the Shinigami swallow and pant, getting his breath back. "That's what I thought. Be a good boy and pull off my obi. If I tried to move my arms down there, I'd probably pull this chain right through your neck, and then you wouldn't be able to scream when I fuck you, would you?"
It was difficult to have a conversation with someone who couldn't talk, but Grimmjow didn't have to hear Renji to know what he was thinking. This was denial and disgust, hatred. But didn't the Shinigami deserve it? After all, he had come here with the intention of raping the defenceless prisoner... His grin spread a little further as this realisation seemed to dawn on Renji, who did as he had been told, reaching up with shaking hands to pull the obi away, letting Grimmjow's prisoner-issue white kimono fall open.
His own eager arousal clearly startled the breathless Lieutenant.
"Don't stop now," Grimmjow prompted. "You were doing so well." He shifted his hips forward. "Take it in your hand, Shinigami."
Renji did; his rough, battle-calloused hand was hot and wet with nerves and arousal, and it felt blissfully good as it wrapped around him.
"Do I have to walk you through every part of this?" Grimmjow complained, baring his teeth.
Renji began to palm the arousal tentatively, and it was such a wonderful sensation that Grimmjow decided not to be so angry about it. He could tell the Shinigami was testing the weight of it -- wondering, perhaps, how much it would hurt when he buried it inside of him.
"Filth," Grimmjow growled, victoriously. "You just thought you'd walk in here and have your way with me. Noble protector of the Gotei 13!" He barked out a laugh and ground his hips forward, thrusting down so hard that he crushed Renji's hand at a painful angle, driving his prick into his well-muscled belly. "You disgust me."
"Don't." Renji's voice was small; he croaked, rather than spoke.
"When I get out of here," Grimmjow went on, "I'm going to fuck my way through your Captain's head -- make him regret looking at me like that. Nobody looks at me like that!"
The Shinigami's eyes widened, and he tried to pull away, even when the chains dug into his neck. It took him a moment to give up and sink back down, gasping for air. "You want to protect him?" Grimmjow sneered.
"No," the redhead admitted, a flush just now crawling up over his cheeks.
"Oh," Grimmjow laughed, "So you want to fuck him too? That's why you came here sniffing around me, is it? Can't have one Sexta, so you'll have another. Is that why you look so angry when I say you disgust me? It's cause you disgust him too."
"Go to hell!" Renji snarled.
"I'll get there eventually," Grimmjow sneered. "Right now, I think you should keep stroking me before I lose my temper and tear yer head off instead."
To his credit, the Shinigami did exactly what he'd been told, and Grimmjow groaned and thrust into his hand, watching Renji wince every time he did so, his wrist bent back between them. It didn't seem to be affecting his arousal, which wept against the inside of his thigh and twitched against his skin with every eager thrust.
"You want me to fuck you." Victory now, and mirth dripping out of his every word.
"No," Renji begged.
"Liar," Grimmjow laughed. "Smell that, Shinigami? Hormones. Ejaculate. Sweat. You want it so bad you hate yourself for it. Don't worry," he snarled, "I'll make you scream so hard you'll forget all about liking it."
Grimmjow edged back, using his knees to force Renji's legs apart, moving up underneath him so that he could bend down and press his lips to one of the tattoos on the broad chest, inhaling. There it was -- underneath the flavour of sex and longing -- the powerful scent of spirit; a Shinigami reiatsu that was, if he so willed it, his to be devoured. A Shinigami Lieutenant. Would it destroy the noble captain to discover that his second seat had been raped and eaten by an escaped Espada? He smirked at the thought. First, though...
He ran his tongue upward, watching the Shinigami keen and whimper, simply unable to resist; his sweat tasted salty and delicious, and if he listened really hard he could hear the rattling of Renji's breath as it was dragged through his narrowed airway. He didn't fight; the chains were keeping him in check, but he did raise his chest, shivering in denial as Grimmjow's tongue was removed from it after only a few too-short moments.
"Beg me for it first, Shinigami," growled the Espada, panting himself, now. There would be no preparation; whether or not the Shinigami had brought lubricant wasn't his concern. He'd already promised to split him into two, but he was going to make the Shinigami plead for it first.
"Never," hissed the redhead, and twisted away.
"I said beg for it!" Grimmjow snarled, biting sharply at one of the man's proud nipples, watching the pain and shock erupt across his features. That clearly wasn't arousing at all, and for a moment it was as though a curtain had been lifted behind the Shinigami's eyes, and suddenly he was very aware that he was about to be raped, or worse, and he turned his head away.
"Guess I warned you," Grimmjow spat, and pushed himself into place against the Shinigami's unprepared entrance.
"No, don't," Renji cried, twisting now, panic pouring unrestrained into his expression, as though he had broken what resolve had been there up until that point. It was about time that the Shinigami realised what this was all about -- that it wasn't just about his lust, but the fear of the act; the fact that it was non-consensual. And to think that he, Abarai Renji had wanted to do it to him. The realisation reared like a vicious monster behind those frightened eyes. What had he been about to do? How could he have stooped so very low? To treat anyone like that -- even a Hollow.
The Shinigami's skin felt feverous against his own, and when he pushed into him, the scream that at first was held back and then poured out of him like the most beautiful kind of sin, was the most compelling thing he'd ever heard. Renji's tortured throat added a reedy note to the already agonising screech, and Grimmjow pressed in hard, tearing apart the tight, almost painfully resistant orifice. When he drew out, the hot blood that he had thrust into stained him, and with a laugh that went unheard under the soundtrack of agony, he drove in again, the lubrication freeing him to pound violently into the body underneath him.
It took very little, he thought, to subdue the Shinigami, once the desperate thrashing stilled and the nails on his chest stopped clawing and simply grabbed for purchase; all concentration seemed to go into just breathing. Grimmjow was careful not to tighten the chain by accident -- it wouldn't do to give the Shinigami the mercy of passing out. He wanted him screaming; he wanted the pain of every little moment to be permanently tattooed onto the man's mind. And when he was done, Abarai Renji would not forget the lesson that he had been brutally taught.
The screaming was too much though; it was pure bliss -- like music to his ears, though he had never heard any music. But this must be what it sounded like. What was more perfect than a warriors throat played with the only sound that truly undid him? It brought him to an orgasm that he had expected to hold off for a little while longer, but it didn't matter; after all, there was a certain proud Shinigami Captain that would be waiting for him.
He released the Lieutenant, carefully unlooping the chain from around his neck and letting out a shudder. He couldn't afford to doze off, had to force himself to get up onto his feet so that he didn't sucuumb to the dangerous urge to curl up on the Shinigami's chest and purr and sleep off his orgasm. His legs were wobbling - just slightly - but Grimmjow had never allowed for weakness, not even after sex. It was part of who he was.
He shook himself hard, then reached down, pulling the Shinigami's hakama on over his open white kimono. The rough, slightly damp material grated over his sensitive cock, making him close his eyes tightly for a moment to resist the itch of pain that tickled over the sore skin -- maybe Renji had been tighter than he had expected.
On the floor, the Shinigami was attempting to move. He was a mess, blood pooling between his legs, and yet he was still valiantly trying to stop him, reaching for his zanpukuto, which Grimmjow reached down and took, unsheathing it. "I heard Shinigami weren't allowed to let their sword be used by others...I hope you don't mind, but mine's been taken away." He smirked, satisfied, and slashed it through the chains, freeing himself. He twisted his wrists, feeling the cool air on the wounds and rejoicing in the stab of pain that meant that he was free.
"Why?" the broken man whimpered, giving up in his efforts to reach Grimmjow; clearly recognising the extent of his injuries. There was something else behind his eyes, a confusion that he had started this in the first place. He was beginning to understand that it wasn't his doing, and Grimmjow smiled.
"Hormones, Shinigami," he purred, deciding to spare him, because his superiors would not, when they discovered what he'd done. "You came to me like a cat in heat -- there wasn't any way you could have stopped it."
Grinning, quite satisfied, Grimmjow navigated his way out of the bars and across the room -- he had to get going before the screams finally brought someone running, and he had a certain Shinigami Captain to visit.