Rating: R (language, sexual situations, voyeurism)
Character(s): GrimmIchi, Aizen
Summary: Ichigo gets deep while getting done (cheesy! but I couldn't resist)
AN: A (very) short one-shot with no explanations and all kinds of loose ends. I almost broke my one-word-title thing for this fic *wipes brow in relief* Unbeta'd-C&C appreciated.
Disclaimer: We all know who Bleach really belongs to. And that these boys are of age. Seriously, 2 of them are well past the age of legal consent ~_^
X-Posted: asterisk_plus, bleach_fanfic, bleach-yaoi, and a few other places (eventually). Sorry for spam.
Zangetsu lay haphazardly on the floor next to the futon. It’s blade never saw the light of day, still wrapped snug in the white binding cloth. His hakama and haori lay next to it. It was all for show.
Aizen noticed Ichigo’s gaze.
“An illusion, one might say, yes?” His smile was polite, as if they‘d been engaged in casual conversation.
The redhead didn’t answer, still, illogically and hypocritically, adamant in his hatred for the traitorous shinigami.
He focused on the familiar hand that caressed him; the long slow sweeps up and down his torso and over his sensitive nipples; the fingertips dipping into the nest of hair at the base of his erection.
“We should be trying to kill each other,” he said. This was not a subject they had not broached before.
The hand on his chest paused.
Ichigo arched his back, silently encouraging more petting. “You are a sadistic, pychotic animal.”
His words earned him a nip to his ear and a throaty laugh. He knew it was taken as a compliment. He’d meant it to be.
“I should be avenging my friends, kicking your ass and saving the girl.” He moaned this last bit as a rough hand grabbed his cock and tugged violently.
“It’s the fighting that got us here in the first place, ya fuckin’ idiot.”
His eyes slid closed catching a pleased grin on Aizen’s face before they shut.
“How you both got here is not important. It’s what you do with the time you have that really matters.” More bullshit spoken like poetry from a master manipulator.
Grimmjow growled his agreement and bit down into the soft neck flesh beneath his lips.
The conversation was over.