Disclamer: I do not own Bleach or anything associated with Bleach. I make no money from this. Tite Kubo was not harmed in the making of this fanfic, though he may have some less than flattering things to say about his fans if he ever reads this.
AN: This is a stand alone, so if you have yet to read my other Sado fics, shame on you, but go ahead.
Contains: Yaoi featuring big strong men, opinions about music not shared by all, what may or may not be realistic behavior of latex pants, makeup, rough play, reiatsu fetish, mentions of D/s, mentions of drug use(not detailed), and male Ocs who need a smack upside the head. If you flame me for any of this, I will laugh.
Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll
The problem, Chad realized, as he stood on the stage of the scarcely lit hole in the wall bar that he was preparing to preform in, was that he had once again let the head of a band convince him that without the right look, nobody cared how good the music actually was. Though he wanted to argue that if the music was any good, the visual shouldn't matter, the sad truth was that far too many people really did listen with their eyes, a lesson he had learned by paying attention to the genius of Marilyn Manson and the far too many fans who lacked the IQ to see past the visual controversy he presented.
In the dinge created by too much smoke in too small of a space, with hints of a rather familiar if not legal green scent and many eyes just a bit glazed from substances of varying degrees of social acceptance, he found himself thinking. The lower oxygen and hypnotic swirling of the air itself gave him the old sense of meditating under water, helped by the bright aqua blue of one of the walls. Unfortunately for his mild stage jitters, this left him in deep contemplation, about the last thing he wanted to do before all eyes turned toward him.
It was not the sooty black and gold makeup artfully smeared around his eyes. Nor was it the slightly caustic flavor or scent of the now rancid deep poison violet lipstick he should have tossed years ago but kept in a drawer because he really did love the nightshade hue and knew occasions just like this one would need it. The cosmetics may feel alien and heavy on his skin, but the gothic group he was with would not be the first band to expect it of him.
It was not the chafe of the safety pins on his bare chest that held together fragments of black fishnet and insisted on snagging his skin with every subtle flex. The may now be a minor annoyance, but with everything he had lived through, it was small and would fall away as he fell into the music. Given his challenge finding any clothing that fit, it was also the most comfortable option for blending in by standing out.
The gratuitous chains that a fellow member had helped drape him in clinking softly and playfully dancing along his skin were actually nice. They were a cheep metal and would snap long before they could break his preferred metal strings as he played and held sweet memories. Even now they called to him to come out and play like all those fire warmed nights in Mexico when he would slip out to dance with the Arabian boys, primal glints burning deep in their eyes as the drum beats gave life to sensual movements that let them all forget for a moment just how displaced they were as they called with something past linguistic expression to the moon. No, a part of him would always hold that secret magic close to his heart when the 'doom teka teka' striped away the need for words as they were united by a singe pulse of rhythm and a single cry could speak of home, tribe, longing, joy, bliss and pain without anyone caring to find out he was not of their blood.
The problem was the pants. They were so tight as to look painted on in all their plasticized glory, and while he held no shame over his well toned body, with the creak pop snick the Matrix inspired garment made at every little shift of his weight it felt like patchwork seams were about to rip. He had tried to beg off of wearing them; he may not know sewing like Ishida, but he had torn enough jeans to see when cloth was stained to it's breaking point. Given that the near gossamer thin material and straining cloth made underwear a no-no, he had been scared to zip the things, only to have the drummer tell him to stop whining and bust into his room to do it himself with the help of a pair of pliers while Chad made less than dignified sounds of panic. As it was, he suspected his guitar would only hide clothing malfunction for the show and leave him in trouble for the long walk home.
Kenpachi Zaraki had long ago lost interest in the sadly civil world that the living had become in the absence of feudal conflict, happy to let his less ragged subordinates deal with trying not to get into too much trouble. That's why it came as a complete shock to him when he caught eleventh division members on fine day getting into a fist fight over the different forms of popular music in the other realm. As he watched, terms like rock and metal and punk and thrash made him wonder just what the deal was, and when a man like him took interest in your hobbies, nobody was bold enough to keep secrets.
Soon after, Yumichika had found the best of the best examples of each new beautiful form of booming base the living had expanded into, wild and primal and dark, battles of noise with performance footage for many that included anything from primitive sexual gyrations to what was called a 'mosh pit'. He may not have the patience to learn the names or lyrics, but if there was anything he got, it was that this wild savagery made dealing with a strength limiting gigai and power inhibitors well worth the time for him to join in person.
He expected the smokey bar when he followed the add for a show, feet sticking to the floor soon to be covered in blood spatters, the cheep beer, and even had an ideal that his spikes were not catching looks of fear or distaste but respect. He was one of them. He was right where he belonged, just like the eleventh. That smug blond dick had even fitted him with piercings and clothing that fit right in without him saying a word about why he really came to Katakura town.
He did not expect to see Yasutora Sado, strong, fearless warrior that he was in what looked like body paint and boots and not much else, his handsome face painted up like a hooker. Though he sure did like it. Everyone in the division was well aware of Yumichika's infamous plastic pants, but the peacock was never gonna fill them out as nicely as Chad could. Strangely enough, the young man didn't seem to understand just how edible he looked, holding himself like he was...nervous? No. Yet the body language said yes, and with a body like that and war under his belt, what was there to be nervous about?
He's just have to fix that even if he had to start a bar fight to do it. Damn the old man, they owed Chad that courtesy.
The set had been going well enough, but Chad new he was not at his best. Try as he did, the constant heat of the stage lights and bad air circulation had the inside of his pants wet and sticky in ways pants should never get wet and sticky, every move letting him feel the tension on the nearly over taxed material. If he wasn't cut tonight, he didn't care what kind of favor it cost him, he was having Ishida make him something he could MOVE in. Thankfully, tonight would be short because after they finished a DJ would take requests for the remainder of the night, and though he would normally stay for dancing, it was not happening this time.
And then that tell tale spirit pressure walked in, suppressed heavily, but no less identifiable. 'And this is when my boner kills the pants, isn't it?' he though darkly to himself. Sure, he was comfortable with the fact he was very interested in what that energy felt like when the shinigami orgasmed, but he was not ok with the public indecency ticket it would land him. Of all the bars, and all the nights, why did that sexy beast have to find him right here and now? Any other time and Chad could have maybe done something dignified about his lust, but now?
The set finished well, but all too soon Chad felt the big man move up to him as the DJ took over and stage breakdown started.
"Dance with me." the gravely order came. It had not occurred to him that not everyone in the living world was as casual about men dancing with each other as soul society, but Chad didn't think the captain cared.
Chad shook his head.
"The hell? I saw you when Renji spiked your tea. You dance good. Dance with me."
"I can't. These pants will rip if I breathe wrong." Chad replied.
"So? You got nothin' to be ashamed of. I've seen you drunk." the captain told him with a leer.
"This isn't eleventh division. People here won't just laugh it off."
"Sure they will. These are my kinda people. They won't give a shit."Kenpachi barked with a smirk.
"In the bar. Out on the street, people give a shit."
"Look, Yumichika has pants like that. If it makes you quit bitching, they have survived when me and Ikkaku both have to pry his drunk ass back out of them. They only LOOK weak."
Sado just looked up at the man like he doesn't buy that story for one second, only for Kenpachi to untie a shirt from his waste and hand it over. The music has a nice rich base to it, perfect rhythm for what his hips have been wanting to do all night. The taller man's words had also touched on the same thoughts as the chains,'my kind of people'. As he tied the shirt, careful no to tangle the rest of what he wore in it, the captain gave him that manic grin that promised madness and there was no denying the way his blood sang in answer.
There it was. The uniting pulse, past melody, past lyrics, surging smooth and steady like a single heart shared by the whole bar. It was tribe, familiar, but he was older now and could hear a new layer that wasn't there for him as a boy, carnal and seductive as the wild thing who pulled him into this magic. Now, thanks to his training, he could feel the energy emanating around him in small trickles from the other dancers too, and Kami-sama it was erotic.
Through hazed eyes, he saw that the affect the atmosphere was having on him left a certain captain flowing into moves more fitting of a bedroom than public and damn if that wasn't testing his self control. Before he knew what had happened, Kenpachi was behind him had a sound grip on his hips as the scared man made it know just how much this affected him with rolling grinding motions hard into the solid flesh in front of him. When sharp teeth found his ear with shuddering hot breath, Chad would have gladly let the bigger man fuck him right there and then but lucky for him the shinigami had other ideals.
"You better get me home before I really do rip those pants off you." Kenpachi snarled, and though the rougher than normal edge to the voice was quite distracting just then, Chad had just enough clarity left to realize the promise in those words and act on it.
Faster than the human eye could see, the 2 men were bouncing off roof tops in a mad dash for Chad's little apparent. Cool night air was quickly replaced with the warm smell of home, maple incense and coffee still fresh from when he'd last seen it. It was, however, the very last thing on his mind as his guest promptly slammed him into his front door to assault his mouth. Ken kissed just like he fought, with savage hunger, and as the taste of blood blossomed his lust stained energy washed over the young man, amplifying the intensity.
The kiss alone had him feeling quite complacent, but when the teeth found his neck and clamped on in a downright animalistic show of dominance, he lost it. It had been too long since he had found someone who could dominate him like that, let alone would, and the pants were now wet and sticky in exactly the right sort of way as the tremors of the aftermath tore through his body. Part of him wanted a nap, but he still had a very worked up Ken to deal with, awake or not, and he really would rather not miss this rare opportunity.
"You sure are eager, ain't you. Good, won't have to waste time tellin' you to relax." Kenpachi growled as he tossed Chad over his shoulder. Kami-sama, that voice was already making him swell. It really had been too long.
The bedroom was found, as far as he could tell by scent since he was hardly thinking clearly enough to point to it. Still feeling better than he had in a while, he was thrown on the bed and the attack on his body continued as if it had never stopped, hot mouth on every bit of bare skin he had and big rough hands ripping at the rest. The sound of safety pins bouncing off at least 2 walls had the tan youth's member twitching in it's confines. Guttural noises filed the air, and by this point, neither man cared who made them.
The thought of what he could tell was a sizable erection ready and hard to ravish him had Sado nearly purring with excitement, but all too soon he noticed things had slowed drastically. Kenpachi's large hands, sure to be amazing on his eager manhood, were less so on the very small and delicate zipper that hid his most tender regions. Regardless, there Ken was, working with all the skill he had to try to make the contraption work, a sight that would have been funny under other circumstances, but with the srting of profanity that accompanied it had Chad fearing a zanpakuto may soon be involved.
"Rip them off." it was soft, but definitely heard given the stunned expression and the bit of drool on Kenpachi's face.
"Yumi would never let me hear the end of that." was the awed reply. "Brute I may be, but Yumichika is eleventh, and there are just some things you do not do BECAUSE he had the balls to make life hell for them. Ripping 'fuck me' pants is on that list.
Sado stared back at him, willing him to remember offering to do exactly that as well as the fact that the fifth seat was not here. However, given the bigger man's lust clouded mind, subtlety was clearly no longer an option.
"They don't count as 'fuck me' anything if you can't actually fuck me, do they?" a statement that earned him a down right worshipful look before the material was grabbed and tugged hard.
It turns out that whatever he was wearing really did stretch more than he guessed because instead of ripping, there was just enough room to yank them off in one piece and let the sweet cool air hit over heated flesh. He could not remember another time he was quite so happy to be naked and let loose a deep moan at the relief.
The sound broke the spell that had taken over the captain at seeing that hot hard body sprawled beneath him. The large man dove in, skipping over a leaking member in favor of finding out just how deeply he could plunge his tongue in that pretty pink pucker. Much too soon, Sado was pulling him back by his spiked hair, a desperate look on his face.
"What, i'm doin' it wrong?" Kenpachi asked in irritation. Sado shook his head.
"Then why'd you stop me?" he snapped.
"Gonna come. Too good." Sado panted, and that was it. Bronze legs were over shoulders and Kenpachi was pushing in hard and fast. Though he may have wanted to be more gentle, hoping for a next time, they had both waited too long.
Chad was pretty sure only some of what was between his legs was sweat and precum, but it didn't matter. He was close to both finding out how the captain was in ecstasy and joining him in it, every thing that night acting like some strange, drawn out foreplay as it was. The pace was as savage as the kisses, Chad's hips meeting each thrust just as hard. Ken found that spot on his neck again as he got close, dragging them both over the edge with a scream and a spirit pressure explosion.
He wasn't sure when they fell asleep, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that the captain was as much a cuddler as himself, leaving the two tangled in a sweaty sticky blood smeared heap. He couldn't remember scratching or biting clearly, but their were marks all over the gigai that told him it happened, and he knew he had a fair share of his own. Stupid grin locked on his face, Chad slipped off to make coffee and deal with day to day matters that could not wait. The sooner that was done, the sooner he may find out just how much his guest could do with that wicked tongue.
A missed call told him a band mate checked in, so he called back, coffee in hand to brace for whatever last minuet drama hit today.
"Hey, glad you called. The gig is canceled. The band broke up." the drummer told him sadly.
"What?!" Chad muttered. He knew he should have finished the coffee before calling out.
"Yeah, nothing against you man, I think you're great, but Yoshi found out Neji only hired you cause he wants to get in your pants and had a fit." the guy told him sheepishly.
"Oh." it wasn't a shock. Nenji would hump anything and Yoshi was dumb enough to think he could change that.
"Now he's jealous and insisting you ruined the band, though between me and you, you're the best player we got." the drummer explained.
"I see." why oh why couldn't they just dump their angst into the music like normal musicians? Was that such a foreign concept?
"And our keyboardist flaked cause he says he can't preform with this kind of stress. Sorry I had to cram you into those pants and that you had to learn all our songs just for this." he finished.
"The gig is not canceled. Call ahead to tell the bar." Chad said calmly.
"Sado, man, your determination is admirable, but-"
"The gig is not canceled. Now tell me how to clean and dry the pants." He was not having this. The band may have it's flaws, but it's why he had a hot and horny man in his bed, and he was GOING to have a repeat performance to offer if he had to beat someone to do it.
"But we broke up!" the drummer tried to argue.
"And I just put us back together. Now, I have company, and if I have to leave to deal with this myself..." the implied threat was left hanging in the air.
Business handled, coffee in belly, Sado donned his apron and started on breakfast with a wide grin.
Those pants were no longer a problem.
And the rest of the AN: esuterutomoru, Isame Kuroda, Henka-chan, and Yemi Hikari enen though the last one is likely to pass due to the yaoi on reading this, thank you for the open exchange, making me think, and giving me feed back. It's your fault I had to write another fic so soon. Reviews and encouragement can even fule a slacker writer like me.
This is also inspired by Kenpachi's theme song "Superpredators" by Massive Attack, also an old favorite of mine. It was playing in the back ground for much of my writing on repeat, so it's kind of a soundtrack.
And to all, if you like it, I am not, in fact, immune to begging or compliments. You know what to do. And if you love the pair but hate my writing, show me what you got!
And flames still tell me I got your attention, so just write something in the review box, would you?
Chad wonders about the lengths he'll go to make the band happy. Kenpachi shows him that he may be looking at things from the wrong perspective in a very hands and messy on sort of way.