Levels of Authority
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. This would be something borrowed.
Author's Notes: SPOILERS, SPOILERS, SPOILERS. But if you've already read past the late 200s chapters, you're fine.
Well, I had to do it. When Nel turned all adult and stuff I was looking for a story to write about her, especially since the part about her and Nnoitra's past is revealed. Some implied Nnoitra x Neliel, I suppose. I'm kind of abusing Orihime lately but I'll make up for it later. Despite the M rating, there is no smut. There's some very brief sexual violence but nothing incredibly detailed, so if that's what you're hoping for I'm sorry to disappoint. Anywho, comments are greatly appreciated.
She bothers him to no end, this new addition to Hueco Mundo.
She's supposed to possess some incredible power in that small body, but Nnoitra takes one look at her face and finds her far too insipid. The eyes are too wide and trusting (as if innocence could survive here), the mouth constantly half-parted in a question or in fear. When she is forced into their uniforms he is sickened to be in company with a thing such as that.
The worst part of it all is that this woman reminds him of her.
-o-
Aizen doesn't parade his pet around but assigns her a private bodyguard. Nnoitra sniggers at Ulquiorra's reduction to nothing more than a lap-dog for a prisoner, and a human prisoner no less. He isn't the only one who finds the situation amusing; there is no end to the comments whispered behind the stoic Espada's back.
He sometimes wonders where Aizen gets these strange tastes for his toys. What kind of power could a woman like that have? He can't sense any sort of malice in her soul, no hunger to defeat those weaker than herself, however few those may be. There is neither fierceness nor pride. The few glimpses he sometimes gets of her as Ulquiorra opens the door to her room is of an insignificant being, clutching her arms tightly with her eyes downcast. Once in the fading moonlight he had mistook her deep auburn hair for a lighter, longer green.
Nnoitra has never liked women. If he had had a mother like humans or shinigami he would attribute it to some sort of impoverished upbringing. As an Arrancar, there is simply no logic or reason. Women are weak, he had once argued, but deep down knows that this is not the cause of his dislike. Halibel's impassive face watches him acutely at every meeting, never leaving its mark for anything less than Aizen himself. He scowls at this blatant display of superiority, hating every second of her post above him. Yet even Halibel's quiet hostility doesn't register too keenly on his mind and this is a sensation that both surprises and worries him. In the midst of sleep one day it hits him that the source of all his hatred stemmed from one woman only.
-o-
The only thing Nnoitra hates more than weakness is something he can't have.
Slowly the order from Aizen not to harm his precious little whore starts to gnaw at his nerves. He learns that her name is Orihime (the noisy women were whispering it loud enough any chance they got). He learns, too, the schedule for her daily meals and Ulquiorra's visits. If there was one thing to be said for him, Ulquiorra was an infallibly consistent guy. Nnoitra almost laughs aloud.
His plan isn't a terribly complicated one but it proves effective nonetheless. No Espada other than Ulquiorra had been permitted inside her room, so he is surprised to find it much more spacious than any of their living quarters. His face sets in a frown. The woman doesn't even bother to turn and face him, instead keeping her stance at the window, staring raptly at the never-changing moon.
"Something interesting out there?" he scoffs cynically. The face that turns to him is wide-eyed and wary – obviously this prey has been hunted before.
"Where is Ulquiorra-san?" she asks quietly.
"He's busy at the moment," Nnoitra smirks. "But in the meantime, I'd like to get to know you better."
Her eyes only widen a fraction of an inch more as his zanpakuto whizzes by her face to embed itself in the wall behind her. On closer inspection she is even more absurdly similar to that woman, from the layers of her hair to those ridiculously large breasts. A line of crimson has formed on her left cheek where his blade grazed it, sloping down from her cheek to her nose. This, too, is a reflection he detests.
Now the eyes that look at him hold nothing but pity.
Her bones crack as he slams her body into the wall, her feet dangling as he pins her there by her neck. She makes some desperate choking sounds for air but otherwise is still, hands limp at her sides.
"Well, show me your terrible power!" he laughs. "Someone like me should be no match for the great pet-sama!"
"I—" she chokes on the words even as she speaks them. "I don't… want to fight with you."
His eyes narrow dangerously. "You useless piece of trash!"
He throws her body halfway across the room. She only comes to a stop when she hits the front of the over-sized couch. Orihime pulls herself awkwardly onto the cushion, coughing up blood. He is beside her again in an instant.
"Are you just a nice piece of meat for Aizen to screw?" his tongue is crawling up her face, the tattooed number 5 making its way across her skin. "Doesn't seem fair that he gets you all to himself."
She never replies to him, only focuses on keeping herself still. It is when he starts ripping her clothes that Orihime screams.
Nnoitra silences her with a hand clamped on her mouth and a razor sharp fingernail resting on her throat. She tries to struggle but is no match for his strength, no match for his power. The scent is wrong but her body feels the way he imagines Neliel's would, how Neliel would struggle if he ever caught her in one of the traps he so desperately set. He feels the hot trail of her silent tears on his fingers but ignores them. The softness of her breast feels almost pleasant against his skin, the rounded curves forming tempting circles. His free hand trails down as low as her underwear before he is suddenly thrown backwards, unaware at first of what has occurred.
The woman only stares quietly as Ulquiorra tears them apart.
"Nnoitra. What do you think you're doing?" He stands with his hands in his pockets as usual, blocking the path between him and the girl.
Nnoitra's face contorts in an ugly sneer. "Just trying to get my share of the rewards." He has pulled his zanpakuto from out of the wall and is twirling it lazily in his hand. "I really would like to finish what I started, Ulquiorra, so if you don't mind…"
"You aren't fit to touch Aizen-sama's property."
"Fuck Aizen!" His eyes are blazing. "He's nothing but a damn traitor. Since when do Arrancar bow to shinigami?!"
Ulquiorra's expression doesn't change. "You should remember your place."
"Forget you, Ulquiorra. I'm gonna wipe the floor with all of you! I'll become the strongest—"
And the world begins to spin as his body falls, slowly, to the ground. The rest of his words are nothing but wind. It takes a while for Nnoitra to become aware of the gaping cut in his side.
"Damn… you…"
Ulquiorra has taken off the shirt of his own uniform to drape over the girl's nakedness. As he stands the outline of the number 4, vivid against the backdrop of Ulquiorra's pale skin, mockingly makes its way into Nnoitra's line of vision.
The Exequias appear around him as Ulquiorra turns to leave.
"As I said, Nnoitra…" His voice begins to fade. "You should remember your place."
Nnoitra cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of the woman. She has pulled Ulquiorra's shirt tight about herself and sits delicately on the edge of the couch. He almost smiles in victory at the fear emanating from her, but when he looks into her eyes there is even more pity there than before. He has never hated anyone quite so much. The hand holding his zanpakuto lunges at her, but the Exequias block his meagre attack. He is still staring at her as they cart him out.
"You will never defeat her." He can't see Ulquiorra's face anymore but his voice taunts him. They both know who he means.
When he sees Neliel again with the shinigami, he vows to prove everyone wrong. He imagines wrapping a hand around her slim waist and ripping off the skin where that '3' is so clearly etched. Later, when she is broken, he will pound into her the same kind of humiliation she has made him endure, one agonizing minute after another. He licks his lips at the thought.
As they square off on the pitiless sands, Nnoitra vows that this time he's going to finish the job.
End