Short and smutty. Pretty much for the plain purpose of writing smut. Also kind of a surprise oneshot for someone. Enjoy~

"That will be all, you may leave." Soft yet commanding, the simple words prompted the ten Espada to their feet. Without hesitation nor confliction, they hurriedly exited the conference hall that Aizen had summoned them to-- none of them in particular took interest in these meetings he held. Idle chitchat inquiring into their lives that the god-inspired man insisted he was interested in. They weren't fooled, though-- well, most of them; they felt the absolute arrogance dripping from word seep into their very bones. Aizen held these meetings, the ones that didn't concern overtaking Soul Society, for the simple and pure pleasure of collecting Hueco Mundo's most capable and dangerous beings upon a whim.

Ulquiorra knew, for a fact, that some of the more outgoing of their league despised Aizen for that very reason. Grimmjow and Nnoitra, most notably, hated being overpowered. Despite their attempts at rebellion (usually from Grimmjow), though, they all fell to their knees before the chocolate-haired shinigami. One way or another.

"Ulquiorra."

Pausing just before he stepped out of the door, the solemn-faced Espada glanced over his shoulder toward the still-seated Aizen. As Stark, generally always the last to saunter out, passed by him, he turned to face his lord fully. The doors swung shut behind him and the fact that he was alone in this room with Aizen brought no hesitation to his mind. Most others-- the sane ones, anyway-- would be intimidated by the presence bearing down on them, but Ulquiorra had become accustomed to it, to say the least.

"Yes, Aizen-sama." Not a question, never a question; you simply didn't inquire as to Aizen's wishes. Either you knew what he wanted, or you remained silent until he spoke again. Ulquiorra, of course, was always a part of the former group and had been for as long as his charismatic leader had graced him with his godly presence.

And with such knowledge, Ulquiorra was automatically responsible for taking action. Footsteps echoed lightly in the chamber as he approached the smirking shinigami, fully aware of the unspoken humor lined in Aizen's face. After all, he would likely be as condescending as well if he had the most powerful Espada-- ranks, as they had learned, were not given according only to strength-- bent to his will. Who would deny Aizen, though? Who could?

Pale, black-polished fingers worked quickly and effortlessly to loosen ties and unfasten sashes. Aizen remained unmoving, simply watching his pet undress himself. He had decided long ago that nothing was quite as exhilarating as having a subordinate so dedicated and loyal that they knew your wishes as soon as the urge struck. Gin had been that subordinate at one time, but was easily and cleanly replaced by one much less distracted by others.

As the last of Ulquiorra's uniform crumpled to the floor, Aizen reached out a hand to slowly stroke the impassive man's cheek. Ulquiorra had never shown any significant traces of emotion, which was what Aizen preferred; emotions made matters messy and ruined perfectly good situations. His hand slipped slowly from the deathly pale skin to his own waist. Slowly, letting the anticipation sink in as much as it could, he worked down his hakama and waited expectantly.

In a fine mix between mechanical and fluid movement, Ulquiorra moved to place himself on Aizen's lap. His knees pressed against the shinigami's hips, the warmth of Aizen's flesh against his comparatively cooler skin sending faint chills up his spine. He felt Aizen's body move under his, rubbing against him as strong hands placed a firm grip on his waist to both control and steady him in his awkward position. His own fingers found not a part of Aizen, but the cold, unfeeling marble of the god's chair. After all, how unthinkable would it be if he were to get caught up in a moment of pleasure and mar the perfectly-toned chest with scrapes? Surely, it would be the last time he would be in such a position.

He heard Aizen murmur a few words-- false encouragements that were only meant to serve as an added insult to already bruised pride-- before the expected yet forceful pain wrenched its way through his body. His eye twitched only slightly as Aizen thrust up into him, his face remaining as unreadable as the stone his fingernails dug into upon being entered. Slowly, emerald eyes closed as he began working his hips into Aizen's, tightening around the intrusive member as it pushed deep inside of him. Aizen never closed his eyes, Ulquiorra learned, and it was the one time he couldn't bring himself to look into the warm, inviting, mocking gaze.

Soft moans of approval reached his ears as their pace began to heat up. Despite himself, Ulquiorra couldn't help but be taken in by the pure sex appeal that literally dripped from his superior. He suppressed a groan that nearly curled his toes as his nails bit into the arms of the throne. Aizen's own fingers pressed into his hips with a force that would surely leave bruises (ones that stood out against his ghostly skin so much more than anyone else's) as he became more violent and aggressive with his thrusts. The pain shooting up his spine melted into pleasure that threatened to tempt him to a point of real arousal. He bit back against the mind-numbing orgasm that he knew lie just on the other side of self-restraint and let his head fall back as a thick, warm feeling spread inside of him.

Releasing hard and fully into the Espada, Aizen lifted one of his hands from Ulquiorra's hips to comb through the raven tresses that were dampened with just the lightest sheen of sweat. His smirk, having never left his lips, only widened slightly into a more pleased expression as Ulquiorra lifted himself from his position and obediently began redressing. He prided himself even more in recalling that no training had been needed for such a reaction to the end of their session; just another reason this man was his favorite.

"Ulquiorra."

This time, the name being called seemed to catch said man off guard. Expecting as much, as he usually dismissed the Espada without so much as a farewell, Aizen raised his hand to the other's cheek once again. He guided his pet's face towards his and gave him a simple kiss that he could tell lingered on the submissive male's lips for much longer than it should have.

Striking green clashed with rich brown and, for once, Ulquiorra hesitated. It was only for a moment, but it was undeniable and unavoidable. A flash of confusion ran through his eyes and was promptly caught and stomped out by Aizen's own gaze. Gracefully, forgivingly, his leader dismissed the momentary mishap and sat back.

"Yes, Aizen-sama." Grateful for the pardon, Ulquiorra bowed his head for a brief moment before turning and exiting the meeting hall. Before he could recollect himself properly, a flash of silver caught the corner of his eye. He paused, not even a full meter from the closed doors, and glanced to the side. "Ichimaru-sama."

"Yer sure takin' on a big task, tryin' t' keep Aizen-sama happy, ain't ya?" There was a slight edge to his voice, but only someone who had spoken to him at great length would be able to detect it.

"I only serve Aizen-sama's will," the green-eyed Espada replied, plainly. "Whatever it may be." Having successfully wiped the grin from Ichimaru's lips-- and quite proud of such a feat-- Ulquiorra left the silver-haired shinigami to fall into whatever train of thought a psychopath may have.

Haha, this is my first time writing Ulquiorra. Did I do well? I'm still trying to get Aizen down straight; I'm intimidated just writing him. I guess it wasn't bad for being written in under two hours on a whim. I hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you thought of it.