Warning – Huge freaking Warning – If you're not at least 18, please reconsider reading this fic. Thank you.

This fic is not for the faint of heart. It is extremely disturbing. This fic is graphic, dark, and contains Shota. What is Shota? Google it, or read on, you'll soon find out.

That said, the fic is based off my AU storyline, Touch of an Innocent. It will be 4-6 chapters, I'm not quite sure yet. If it seems jumpy or random, that's why, this fic is not the story, its just following it.

This fic was suggested by a friend of mine. And I was like hell no I'm not writing that! But here it is. The idea grew on me. And we just looooooove helpless, defenseless, broken Szayel 3 bawww!

However that doesn't mean I am okay with Shota. It's creepy. It's wrong. And it disturbed the hell out of me to write.

If you still want to read after this warning, feel free, but please keep the flames to a minimum. Thank you ^^;

Pairing: Nnoitra Gilga X Szayel Aporro Granz

Rating: M

Szayel stared up at his superior, his amber eyes silently pleading with the stoic, emerald eyed Arrancar, his could be, would be savior for the help he knew wouldn't come. 'Call Nnoitra off…make him let go…please…' This train of thought repeated continuously in his mind which was a whirlwind of scattered thoughts and feelings, fear being the primary at the moment.

Desperation being the next as Ulquiorra turned his nose up at him and walked away, his emotionless voice echoing in his ears.

"I'll be waiting at the lab."

He felt his stomach drop and the air whoosh out of his lungs as he watched his savior walk away, the crumpled, unconscious form of the child, their guest, Inoue-chan, clutched almost protectively to his chest. 'Of course he wouldn't protect me. Why would he? I am Espada. I am not his responsibility. If it wasn't for me the child wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place.' And if it wasn't for his fraccion, she wouldn't be a child. He wouldn't be a child. He wouldn't be completely vulnerable, his power halved and fate held in the hands of a—

Said hand gripped his shoulder even more firmly, so harshly that Szayel couldn't help but let out a whimper of pain, his fear spiking as he thought his clavicle might snap. Blood began to seep out and mar the white fabric of his thin jacket where Nnoitra's fingernails pierced through his flesh; the absence of his already weak hierro becoming startling evident.

He didn't even have that protection. His power was gone. He was weak, helpless, couldn't defend himself even if he tried. The only form of protection he had left was his blo—

All remaining color left his face, his skin taking on a ghostly pallor as Nnoitra pressed in behind him, their bodies nearly touching. Nnoitra's own brushing against the highly sensitive length and feelers of his wings, sending his previously adrenaline fueled body trembling as it suddenly dawned on him just what sort of 'unfinished business' Nnoitra might have been referring to.

'No. He wouldn't dare. I'm…I'm a child in body! He…he wouldn't…' But who was he kidding? This was Nnoitra Gilga, the Quinta Espada and the lewdest, slimiest character in Las Noches. Was there anything he wouldn't do?

No, apparently not, as made apparent when Nnoitra kneeled between his wings to raise his free hand up and stroke the underside of one wing base with deceptive gentleness.

The effect on Szayel was almost instantaneous. His ghostly skin immediately flushed pink with arousal he couldn't contain and a shocked moan escaped his lips, only to be clamped down on, silenced; his skin flushing further in his mortification. Even as an adult, if he were ever molested in such a manor, the result would have been the same. His wings were extremely sensitive. Not only did they provide him an array of information ranging from air temperature, wind speed and direction, and reishi pressure, but they were also a walking erogenous zone. A major target, and weakness, for any that knew his nature as an Arrancar.

"So…where ta start, now that I gotcha in my control." Nnoitra whispered this against his ear knowingly, a taunt, his voice tinged with smug satisfaction as he continued to stroke up Szayel's rubbery wings at a leisurely pace, increasing the pressure of his fingertips as he progressed.

Szayel's knees weakened, giving out as he whimpered pitifully at the contact to his wing, and would have fallen if not for the hand still painfully gripping his shoulder. He was already losing the battle against his body, his control as it reacted without his permission; control that he prided himself on and maintained with strict discipline. He always had to be the one in control. Nnoitra knew this, pointing his lack of control out as part of his sick method of breaking him down. Well, it only served to infuriate him and before he could control his tongue, he spat out an acidic retort through gritted teeth.

"What's the problem Quinta? Couldn't control the Tercera so you had to settle for a child? Pathetic."

He could immediately tell this was the wrong thing to say and silently cursed his flustered state and lack of control for digging himself a deeper hole. He could feel the anger and humiliation radiating off the tall man kneeling behind him, could feel it as he felt Nnoitra's grip on his wing and shoulder tighten, making him gasp aloud in shocked pleasure that quickly turned into a pained scream as his clavicle finally snapped.

As pain coursed through him it vaguely dawned on him that a broken bone was the least of his worries when suddenly the grip tightened further on his wing and his world became a whirl of white and black. His mind spun with pain and confusion, realization hitting him as the ground came up to meet him, his body crashing into it jarringly and skidding several feet before coming to a stop.

Nnoitra had flung him through the air by his wing, the wing that flared in agony as he attempted to flex it.

"Ahhh ah…shit…"

His breath came out in ragged gasps. No longer was that wing giving him pleasure, but an excruciating amount of pain. He wasn't sure if it was broken, or sprained, but given the nature of his wings and the flexible substance they formed out of, he was willing to go with the latter. You couldn't break his wings less they were torn from his back, which Nnoitra nearly had.

His mind halted in fear as he remembered what had set Nnoitra off in the first place and immediately attempted to push himself off the ground and place himself in a defensive position. Once more crippling pain coursed through his body, tearing a pained sob from his throat as he crashed to the ground, too consumed with agony to even attempt lifting himself on his good arm.

Yet there was one thing he could do. He could revert from his release form, ridding himself of an easily exploitable target and weakness, while at the same time cutting the pain he felt by more than half. Consequently, that took concentration and a control of reishi he couldn't muster at the moment, though he had to try. With all the force of will he could gather within himself, he fought to still his mind, block out the pain and take deep, calming breaths in an attempt to put him into a comforting meditative trance.

Even as practiced as he was, it still took him several moments to enter such a state, and he had nearly succeeded. Unfortunately, those were moments he didn't have, as soon the sound of footsteps invaded his mind, shattering his concentration and with it the barrier he'd erected to block out the pain.

His body reacted instinctively to the pain and incoming threat that was Nnoitra, refueling him with yet another high of adrenaline that day. For this he was grateful, as it allowed him to block out his agony and roll over, pushing himself upright and pulling himself to his feet so he could face Nnoitra head on.

He glared up at him as he approached, still red faced and fuming at Szayel's last remark. Unconsciously, Szayel found himself stepping backwards; instinctive fear and need for self-preservation guiding his movements as the predator closed in on its prey. Soon, his back was pressed against the wall and he wished for nothing but the ability to melt into it. As that was impossible, his only option was to wait, standing defiantly, hands clenched at his sides and face set into his typical disdainful mask despite the fact that his fight or flight instincts had kicked in and instinct was screaming at him to flee.

No words were said as Nnoitra reached him, only actions. Actions he couldn't see, only felt. He let out a surprised, pained yelp as his head was suddenly snapped to the side and back into the wall, making his vision blink out. When his vision didn't come back after a moment, he began to worry, and that's when he realized he'd squeezed his eyes shut reflexively and his mind kept them shut, a vain attempt to block out and deny the reality of what was happening to him. But he wasn't a coward, he wouldn't accept his fate. He'd stare it down defiantly, rebelling against it to the very end.

It was then he cracked his amber eyes open, narrowing them as he looked at Nnoitra from his peripheral vision, who had closed in, crouching down in front of him and trapping him against the wall with his knees. Nnoitra's stoic expression was unidentifiable, although his eye still simmered. The emotion hidden in its depths making Szayel visibly shudder. His eye looked hungry, like it was devouring his soul.

Nnoitra gaze shifted, lingering upon his lip and bringing up a hand to turn his head with gentleness Szayel thought he was incapable of possessing. When Nnoitra's thumb skimmed over the edge of his lips, Szayel pursed them defiantly. It was then he realized Nnoitra had split his lip, the sting making itself apparent.

"Yer bleedin'."

Szayel would have sneered if not for the jolt of hope that suddenly flared within him. 'I'm…bleeding?' He was in slight disbelief but Nnoitra wasn't lying, he could feel it beginning to drip down his chin. His heart hammered excitedly at the prospect the blood represented; a way out. 'If I could get him to consume it…I can—.' His thought process was cut short, as Nnoitra was ahead of him, leaning forward to ghost his lips across the area his thumb had been previously. Szayel's stomach turned in disgust at the action, then fear. It was quite obvious then what Nnoitra had planned for him, planned for his child like body no less. The realization caused him to pale considerably further while he resisted the urge to twist his head to the side. He had to allow Nnoitra to do this. Had to get him to consume his blood; it was imperative. Damn it all! He had to let Nnoitra kiss him!

Though his body had other ideas; he still flinched away at the touch, he still brought up his hands to push weakly at his chest, a frail, defensive and useless barrier between the two of them. He still whimpered pitifully, his breath catching as he choked back a fearful sob when Nnoitra's tongue flicked out to catch the dribbling blood and lick at it as if it were a delectable treat.

'Yes…there. That's it. Take it all.' Szayel thought this as he took several deep breaths, attempting to Zen himself out and focus. He blocked out the throbbing pain that was beginning to return as the adrenaline that had flooded his body began to fade. He blocked out the feel of Nnoitra's probing tongue, the way it licked at his skin, painfully teasing the cut on his lip, attempting to coerce more of Szayel's blood to the surface. Blood that Szayel focused on with all his ability. Blood he could use to completely control any being once they consumed it.

Blood he could normally feel inside them and manipulate, making them move, act according to his every whim.

Blood he couldn't feel at all, as if it had lost its power.

His heart began to hammer erratically as comprehension hit him, then anxiety as Nnoitra's tongue probed further, attempting to entice his lips open. 'What? No! How can it not work? It has to work…it has—.' His amber eyes opened wide, full of fear, his panic consuming him as Nnoitra forced entry, the long wet appendage quickly overpowering and nearly choking him as it overtook his mouth. He pushed frantically at Nnoitra, his one good hand not even enough to make him flinch, the other pushing as hard as it could, sending shockwaves of pain through him as it agitated his broken clavicle.

He grew desperate as he felt Nnoitra's hand travel down his neck to the base of his good wing and began to tease it harshly. Szayel's body arched away from the touch reflexively, pressing into Nnoitras and a long moan escaping which was swallowed eagerly. This sent a new wave of anxiety through him, causing his throat to constrict painfully, cutting off his air supply. The lack of control he had over his body, the way his body felt at Nnoitra's molestations. It wasn't right. He shouldn't be feeling this. 'I don't want it! It's wrong!'

His hand's ceased their pushing and instead sought out new ways to pull his tormenter off. His little hands frantically shot up to his face to claw at his hair, pulling harshly in an attempt to fend him off. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect, and he silently cursed his luck and Nnoitra's masochistic leanings as the taller man groaned, pulling the smaller body flush to his and enlightening Szayel as to just how aroused the situation was making Nnoitra.

'Shit! I need to get out of here! Need to get out before…' But it was useless; he felt his little body begin to give out on him, the combination of pain, exhaustion and oxygen deprivation finally taking its toll. No longer was he trying to get Nnoitra to stop kissing him. He just wanted to breathe. He felt himself growing weaker, his anxiety cresting, the frantic pushes and pulls he employed in trying to get his point across becoming even more desperate as he was asphyxiated.

No matter how hard he tried he just couldn't seem to get Nnoitra to acknowledge the fact that he was suffocating and it wasn't much longer before his vision began to dim, black spots peppering his vision as his limbs began to fail him. His panicked grappling's lessoned, then stopped completely as he felt his body slump, knees finally giving out, yet still held up by the pressure Nnoitra held against him, pinning him to the wall. He was on the verge of unconsciousness when a voice that belonged to neither of them rang across the hall.

"Take it to yer fuckin' wing Quinta! I don't wanna fuckin' see that shit!"

Nnoitra broke his kiss to holler something. Szayel didn't hear, didn't care to listen. All he cared about as he slumped there was gasping in precious oxygen and staying conscious, something he managed just barely. The effort to remain so consumed him and the pain caused by the jagged breaths he drew made the sprain of his wing and broken bone of his clavicle seem like a long forgotten memory. All that mattered was air. Breathe in. Breathe out. His mind whirled while his vision flickered sporadically, clouded even further as his eyes leaked from the pain. He barely noticed being picked up around his middle like a hand bag and totted out of the room, nor would he remember the flash of blue that invaded his vision, fading almost immediately and forgotten as soon as he registered it.

After a couple minutes he was able to get his breathing under control, though he still was in a near comatose state. He knew they were traveling, where? He wasn't sure, and he vaguely wondered if he should care. He could feel his abused wings dragging limply on the ground below him and an errant thought crossed his mind. He was actually grateful that Nnoitra wasn't stepping on them. He really was out of it.

His mind began to flicker again, darkness encroaching upon the edges of his consciousness. The combined doses of adrenaline that had suffused his body that day giving him a temporary high, now left him feeling incredibly weak. Not to mention his whole body throbbed, his wings were battered and hyper sensitive. His clavicle panged with each footstep and his lip was still bleeding freely. All he wished to do was pass out, forget it all, and maybe when he awoke he'd realize that this was just some terribly fucked up nightmare.

Though before he could do so, they stopped, and yet another unrecognizable voice made itself known.

"Now what do ya have there, Nnoitra-sama?"

Szayel's eyes widened, hope flaring within him at the sound of the voice.

"None of yer fuckin' business Gin, now get outa my way. I got shit ta do."

Szayel's head shot up; his amber eyes wide and openly pleading with the man before them. "Ichimaru-sama!" His voice came out hoarse, almost broken and very obviously desperate, yet it was all he could manage as he looked up at his superior. Ichimaru stared back down at him, his expression unreadable, his eyes slits and usual grin in place. When his grin widened, shifting his gaze from Szayel to Nnoitra, he lost what remaining hope he had and let his head slump back down, his eyes clouding over with frustrated tears as the hopelessness of his situation finally hit him. He was screwed. Literally.

"Ya know if ya hurt our only scientist 'ere Aizen-sama will be mightily displeased wit'ya Nnoitra-sama. He needs'm ta cure our guest after all, dontcha think?"

Szayel's head shot back up at his words, his amber eyes wide, watery and filled with hope. Hope that was squashed once more when Nnoitra spoke.

"Tch, don't ya worry. He'll still be able ta work after I'm through with'm…maybe."

Terror flooded him at this statement and he looked to Gin with fading hope, trepidation evident in his wide eyes. Yet what he saw in Gin took him aback. The man was no longer smiling, his posteur was no longer casual. He looked down right menacing, his eyes open to slits and the bright sky blue irises glowing eerily in the dim light.

"Put the Octava down, Quinta."

This was voiced as an order, an order that, if Nnoitra should ignore it, would deem him insubordinate and he'd be punished accordingly. Szayel knew this all from the tone of Ichimaru's voice. He can't say he was surprised by what happened next, or that he didn't expect it when the ground suddenly rushed up to meet him as he'd seen it happen before, to the girl. He let out a pained cry as he struck the hard tile on his injured shoulder and immediately curled into a defensive position. His wings weakly wrapped around him, fearful of further retaliation directed towards him on Nnoitra's part against Ichimaru.

"Tch. Whatever…I ain't done wit' ya Szayel."

Nnoitra finished with a sneer, the threat lingering in the air and chilling him to the core as the tall man stomped off. Though he didn't leave before getting one last assault in, stepping harshly on an appendage that lingered a bit too far from Szayel's body causing him to scream out in pain and send him trembling.

He lie there curled up within the not-so-protective cocoon of his wings as he attempted to process what had just occurred.

Gin Ichimaru had saved him. He had ordered Nnoitra into releasing him. Threatened him with insubordination had he not. He'd saved Szayel from…from…he shuddered, the trembling increasing in intensity as he thought about what might have just happened to him should Ichimaru not have intervened.

He lost himself for a moment, anxiety and relief overwhelming him and making him completely forget the presence of his superior, his savior. That is until said man knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder causing Szayel to freeze up in surprise and humiliation.

"Szayel Aporro-sama, its okay. He's gone."

He glared within the dim light of his poorly constructed cocoon. As grateful as he was for Ichimaru's help, the last thing he expected of the man was compassion…no, pity. He didn't want his damned pity. He wanted…he wanted to be alone. Yes. That sounded best. He needed to compose himself away from prying eyes.

Furiously blinking his eyes to clear away the tears that wished to be shed, he unfurled his wings, gingerly pushing himself into a sitting position and then dragging himself to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. Taking a steadying breath, he raised his eyes and coolly met Ichimaru's, though his gaze lacked the usual vehemence, the usual distain it carried for the man and his other 'comrades'. It was empty, almost haunted. Yet his posteur told otherwise. Despite the pain he was obviously in, he stood straight, demanding respect and for once in his otherworldly life, giving it.

He inclined his head in the tiniest of nods towards Ichimaru Gin and when he spoke, his words came out quiet, hoarse and to Gin's ears only, sincere. "Arigato, Ichimaru-sama. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my wing." With that said, he turned on his heel and strode away, though with less dignity as he intended; his battered wings making him feel lopsided and causing him to almost lose his balance. He flushed, embarrassed, yet kept walking, that is until Ichimaru's voice rang out one more, quiet in its own right, the words reminding him and causing another heavy weight to settle upon his shoulders.

"Ya owe me, Szayel Aporro-sama. Dontcha ferget that."

He froze and if his skin could have paled further it would have.

He was indebted. He owed Ichimaru.

The prospect of what favor he might be called on for in the future churned his gut and made his situation seem all the more sickening and inescapable. He couldn't do this, couldn't deal with two people dogging his footsteps. One out to molest him the other holding a debt over his head; his world completely out of his control. He felt overwhelmed, his anxiety pressing in around him and smothering him.

Panicking, he fled to his wing via poorly controlled sonido, stumbling and almost slamming into walls along the way. When he crossed the boundaries of his realm, he continued on haphazardly, narrowly missing his own traps, even going so far as to trigger some but by the time they went off, he was gone. When he stopped outside the entrance to his labs, he could hardly breathe for the painful constriction in his throat. He slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the cool floor and closed his eyes, attempting to calm his erratic breathing.

He was safe there. Nobody could molest him. Nobody could save him and claim debt. Here he was in control, in his own world, fashioned just for him, to his specifications. Perfect.

He sat there for several moments, breathing in and out, bringing himself into a calm meditative state and after several long minutes that seemed like hours, reverted to his original Arrancar form. Yes, here he was safe, but what about when he had to leave? What then? He shuddered, refusing to think about it. He'd go out prepared next time, he'd let his paranoia get the best of him for once. What happened that day was a fluke of chance, and he wouldn't let it happen again.

Resolved, he shakily stood, pushing himself from the floor, straightening his clothing and licking his lips. He grimaced, feeling the sting of the cut and tasting the coppery metal of his own blood.

Blood that was completely useless to him in that form.

This thought brought on a new wave of bitterness, of resentment. Though towards who, he wasn't sure. He couldn't blame his fraccion, he couldn't blame the girl. It was all his doing. He just had to deal with it. Deal with the harassment. Deal with the uncertainty and paranoia, just as he always had.

He frowned as he moistened his glove with his tongue to clean off the blood that remained on his face. Though dirtying his clothing was distasteful to him, it was better than walking in as mess; the Cuatro would only ask questions. He sighed at the thought of his angry superior, one more being to deal with that would surely demand payment for his actions that day, or lack thereof.

Steeling himself, he gave himself a final once over and set his disdainful mask in place before he pulled open the door to his laboratory and strode inside.

A/n: So. Yeah…I like how it ended? He regained some confidence, intent on believing it was a fluke, despite he'd lost all abilities aside from releasing, cero and sonido, and his power was completely halved. Why didn't he cero Nnoitra? He was too panicked, full of anxiety and wasn't thinking straight. That and it would only have pissed Nnoitra off, it wouldn't have even burned him.

There will be three more very angsty chapters for Szayel. When they're released, I'm unsure. As I will only write/post them as I come upon them in my fic Touch of an Innocent (which you should read and is Shota-free)

Please don't flame me v.v I don't like Shota. Really I don't. I like angsty Szayel. lol

Credits: The blood control is a concept created and lended to me by Emochromatic.