Liaise
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
A/N: I'm not wasting my time.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
If Ulquiorra had to give it a name he'd call it pigheadedness.
But he didn't have to give it a name or attribute reason or apply logic because Yami wasn't worth it. There was no method to his madness.
"Are you ever hard, Ulquiorra?"
What. Had. He. Ever done to provoke such a mindless question? What did one say? Confronted with inanity so quizzical that it was a demonic ingenuity unto itself, Ulquiorra batted an eyelid or two.
"Idiot."
"Is that a yes?"
The fourth Espada was immobilized by a daring hand that abruptly slipped under the cut of his shirt. It lay with liberty in the shallow scoop where spine curved into buttock. It inched over sensitive, crawling skin to grip his hip.
"Yami. Let go."
The heliotrope haired hardass shook his head and put another hand on the other hip, pulling the brunet back onto himself. The walkway leading from here to there went oblong with Ulquiorra's giddy incomprehension. The sky throbbed blue as if voyeuristic Gin was watching from on high. Ulquiorra thought he very well might and leaned away; Yami tightened his hold and put his face against the green eyed thing's shoulder blade.
"Answer my question before you run."
"I have more self control than that."
One of Yami's arms fully encircled his gray torso while the other dipped down to stroke the patch of black hair sauntering into his pants. There was more batting of eyelids, and an indolent sigh building somewhere in the vicinity of Yami's fingers.
"I bet I can make you hard."
"I incredulously disagree."
A scoff from Yami stirred Ulquiorra's soft hair, and the lucky bastard licked a spot on the skinny dyke's neck, kissing and biting.
Hot.
Ulquiorra wasn't, neither was Yami but the tongue swirling on his skin was burning up. An icy chill moved through Ulquiorra, rubbing against his…his, his…What?
What.
What was going on?
He had a gnarly vision of Ichimaru Gin grinning interestedly over their picture in the Observation Room, perhaps beckoning Findor Carias over to witness the preposterous spectacle of Ulquiorra Schiffer being…handled…expertly by Yami Rialgo. The word 'unbearable' crossed his mind and coincided with Yami's salacious hand roving the length of his cock when had the bastard undone his pants and how long had he been nipping at Ulquiorra's ear…?
A casual motion wrenched him away from Yami's attentions and into the cold, reassuring grip of sanity.
"Explain yourself, Yami. Under the visible sky (Aizen-sama's eye)—this is unfit behavior for an Espada."
"Ulquiorra, let's have sex."
Ask for an explanation and you get a suggestion. How dare he, the uncouth cad.
"Yami—"
"I'm sweet on you. Been that way for ages. Let me get lucky. Swear I won't shout 'suerte' when I cum."
Ulquiorra's cheeks went pink—from indignation, not embarrassment! Don't you draw your own conclusions.
"Sweet…! You look like vanilla ice cream with swirls of strawberry."
The sky didn't change a bit, but silent black flags were hoisted to replace the one ones fluttering top all the tallest towers. The transition from day to night, as done in Las Noches (because really, who needs dawn and dusk?). Yami took them in with a distracted sweep of his eyes, and Ulquiorra found that he too could tease.
"Why, Yami. Didn't anyone teach you? No sweets before bed."
A groan of defeated, raging longing torqued past his lips as Ulquiorra stalked away, just one long line of pure evil. And for a sure, certain second, Yami rather thought that the fourth Espada felt it too.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Short and meaningless but necessary to get the taste of Occupational Hazards out of my mouth.