#01 "Gotta Give" (Grimmjow Jaggerjack/Ulquiorra, Bleach)
Title: Gotta Give
Author: shinigamikender
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Grimmjow Jagger Jack/Ulquiorra
Theme: #01 - Anonymity
Rating: R/NC-17 (PWP, AU-ish)
Summary: Ulquiorra makes a guess.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, but that doesn't mean I can't abuse its characters!
Ulquiorra is no stranger to waking up with hands on his body. Aizen-sama has taught him long and well to enjoy and expect touch and Ulquiorra does so willingly. What he isn't familiar is waking up to reiatsu binders, a blindfold, and strange hands on his body.
The leader of the arrancar shifts slightly against the sheets, frowning as the calloused touch explores him more roughly than he's used to responding to. He knows almost instantly it isn't Aizen-sama. He knows well the gentle and painful touches that coax him to becoming the perfect being to serve quite literally beneath Aizen-sama. Aizen-sama is patient. Aizen-sama is gentle. Aizen-sama's fingers are just lightly rough with age as they stroke him.
And that's the difference. Aizen-sama strokes where this hand jerks, almost roughly, as it touches him. Ulquiorra doesn't remember many who have access to Aizen-sama's quarters that touch like this, but the length of the fingers and the sharp pain that accompanies them almost reminds them of Ichimaru and his painful touches, the way he can make someone like him shudder with just a few words.
Ulquiorra clenches his fingers against the binders, but the wood is a lot stronger than he is. There's no way of sensing who it is. And he has a feeling that whatever it is they're doing, they don't want him to know.
He shifts his hips upwards as the hands guide him. They're warm and firm, despite the roughness. Tousen might make more sense than Ichimaru in that case. Ulquiorra's never seen him touch the arrancar before, though. He belongs to a single man and seems to have no interest in any of them, even when Ichimaru teases him, tongue tracing against skin, pink against Tousen's far darker coloring.
It might make sense then, to obscure his own senses. Perhaps Tousen can only copulate when the opposite party cannot see his face as he can theirs. Perhaps Tousen wants no one to know that he too has physical needs that must be satiated. But the smell is different. Tousen never smells as strongly with sweat as this one does. It's thick and cloying, almost bitter.
He closes his eyes behind the blindfold and moves into the hands, not bothering to muffle any sounds, no matter how few there are. He isn't about to ask. This is a test. There are still others it could be, even if he's nearing the end of his list of potential candidates.
Luppi, of course, is a frequent visitor to Aizen-sama's bed. Many a night, Ulquiorra's worked alongside the eager to please younger arrancar. But he remembers the taste of Luppi's skin and, he leans forward to take a taste of the stranger's skin, the same salty taste filling his mouth before he's smacked away.
No, that roughness takes off quite a few members from his list. The arrancar are, of course, brutal by nature, but he doesn't know many that would dare do that to him.
However, that may be what this is, an act of revenge. It's simplistic, a bit foolish at best, but it works and Ulquiorra has always set himself high out of reach of the others. It's hard to guess who might be driven to this measure.
He arches against the hand as it begins to pull him open. It isn't as if he's a virgin, but the roughness almost makes him shudder, constricting against it. He presses the board against his chest, the roughness against his skin making it easier to focus.
He draws a deep breath, reminding himself that this is like his first time and like the first time after that when Ichimaru took him. It's just like the night the captain had pushed him open gently, pressing the hilt inside him until he could feel the press of the curls of Shinsou's hand-guard against his skin.
All he needs to do is relax, let this moment consume him. He takes another deep breath and feels himself unconstrict before the fingers plunge inside of him, curious and inexperienced at best. He hears the intruder spit into their hands, as if that was near enough to save him from the friction that was coming.
The visitor isn't just stupid; he's inexperienced as well. Ulquiorra frowns. There aren't many like that. In fact, as far as Ulquiorra can remember, there are only a few who haven't been touched. Only a few and...
He nearly screams, gaping at the first thrust. There's no lubrication beyond the slight traces of saliva and that isn't going to hold out for very long before being absorbed with the friction of the act. He feels his body shuddering with the pain of entry. He feels the intruder echoing it in their breath and, more importantly... More painfully, rather, he feels the intruder inside of him, ripping him apart in a violation that would perhaps mean more to someone else.
It's hard to think against the more pressing pain and the even more pressing need that's being fulfilled as rough hands reach down to stroke him. Ulquiorra presses his face to the sheets, letting out a choked sound. He wants this, yes, but he wants even more to know who it is.
For a few agonizingly desperate minutes, Ulquiorra's mind blanks with the pain-numbed pleasure that seeks to completely consume him. The other body settles into an easy rhythm with his own and he chokes down what spit he can as the other drives him to the brink.
And just as he hits it, just as his hips jerk forward, body shuddering with release, he realizes who it is, exactly who it is. Those rough hands, the inexperience, and most of all, the stupidity it would take to do this to him, of all people.
"Grimmjow..." he breathes, fingers clutching the bindings tightly.
Author: shinigamikender
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Grimmjow Jagger Jack/Ulquiorra
Theme: #01 - Anonymity
Rating: R/NC-17 (PWP, AU-ish)
Summary: Ulquiorra makes a guess.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, but that doesn't mean I can't abuse its characters!
Ulquiorra is no stranger to waking up with hands on his body. Aizen-sama has taught him long and well to enjoy and expect touch and Ulquiorra does so willingly. What he isn't familiar is waking up to reiatsu binders, a blindfold, and strange hands on his body.
The leader of the arrancar shifts slightly against the sheets, frowning as the calloused touch explores him more roughly than he's used to responding to. He knows almost instantly it isn't Aizen-sama. He knows well the gentle and painful touches that coax him to becoming the perfect being to serve quite literally beneath Aizen-sama. Aizen-sama is patient. Aizen-sama is gentle. Aizen-sama's fingers are just lightly rough with age as they stroke him.
And that's the difference. Aizen-sama strokes where this hand jerks, almost roughly, as it touches him. Ulquiorra doesn't remember many who have access to Aizen-sama's quarters that touch like this, but the length of the fingers and the sharp pain that accompanies them almost reminds them of Ichimaru and his painful touches, the way he can make someone like him shudder with just a few words.
Ulquiorra clenches his fingers against the binders, but the wood is a lot stronger than he is. There's no way of sensing who it is. And he has a feeling that whatever it is they're doing, they don't want him to know.
He shifts his hips upwards as the hands guide him. They're warm and firm, despite the roughness. Tousen might make more sense than Ichimaru in that case. Ulquiorra's never seen him touch the arrancar before, though. He belongs to a single man and seems to have no interest in any of them, even when Ichimaru teases him, tongue tracing against skin, pink against Tousen's far darker coloring.
It might make sense then, to obscure his own senses. Perhaps Tousen can only copulate when the opposite party cannot see his face as he can theirs. Perhaps Tousen wants no one to know that he too has physical needs that must be satiated. But the smell is different. Tousen never smells as strongly with sweat as this one does. It's thick and cloying, almost bitter.
He closes his eyes behind the blindfold and moves into the hands, not bothering to muffle any sounds, no matter how few there are. He isn't about to ask. This is a test. There are still others it could be, even if he's nearing the end of his list of potential candidates.
Luppi, of course, is a frequent visitor to Aizen-sama's bed. Many a night, Ulquiorra's worked alongside the eager to please younger arrancar. But he remembers the taste of Luppi's skin and, he leans forward to take a taste of the stranger's skin, the same salty taste filling his mouth before he's smacked away.
No, that roughness takes off quite a few members from his list. The arrancar are, of course, brutal by nature, but he doesn't know many that would dare do that to him.
However, that may be what this is, an act of revenge. It's simplistic, a bit foolish at best, but it works and Ulquiorra has always set himself high out of reach of the others. It's hard to guess who might be driven to this measure.
He arches against the hand as it begins to pull him open. It isn't as if he's a virgin, but the roughness almost makes him shudder, constricting against it. He presses the board against his chest, the roughness against his skin making it easier to focus.
He draws a deep breath, reminding himself that this is like his first time and like the first time after that when Ichimaru took him. It's just like the night the captain had pushed him open gently, pressing the hilt inside him until he could feel the press of the curls of Shinsou's hand-guard against his skin.
All he needs to do is relax, let this moment consume him. He takes another deep breath and feels himself unconstrict before the fingers plunge inside of him, curious and inexperienced at best. He hears the intruder spit into their hands, as if that was near enough to save him from the friction that was coming.
The visitor isn't just stupid; he's inexperienced as well. Ulquiorra frowns. There aren't many like that. In fact, as far as Ulquiorra can remember, there are only a few who haven't been touched. Only a few and...
He nearly screams, gaping at the first thrust. There's no lubrication beyond the slight traces of saliva and that isn't going to hold out for very long before being absorbed with the friction of the act. He feels his body shuddering with the pain of entry. He feels the intruder echoing it in their breath and, more importantly... More painfully, rather, he feels the intruder inside of him, ripping him apart in a violation that would perhaps mean more to someone else.
It's hard to think against the more pressing pain and the even more pressing need that's being fulfilled as rough hands reach down to stroke him. Ulquiorra presses his face to the sheets, letting out a choked sound. He wants this, yes, but he wants even more to know who it is.
For a few agonizingly desperate minutes, Ulquiorra's mind blanks with the pain-numbed pleasure that seeks to completely consume him. The other body settles into an easy rhythm with his own and he chokes down what spit he can as the other drives him to the brink.
And just as he hits it, just as his hips jerk forward, body shuddering with release, he realizes who it is, exactly who it is. Those rough hands, the inexperience, and most of all, the stupidity it would take to do this to him, of all people.
"Grimmjow..." he breathes, fingers clutching the bindings tightly.