Short little piece featuring torture and other qualities forcing the rating to be M. Written at Naka-Kon but doctored up at home so it makes sence and is spelled right...

Rating: M

Warnings: Torture, YAOI

Disclaimer: Don't. Own. Bleach.

A fantasy is one's dream to be controlled, their escape from reality. Used only to imagine your greatest desire and see it played out before your mind's eye. However, if given the chance, your fantasy can run off on its own tangent, leaving you with a terrible nightmare.

~xXx~

Behind a locked metal door cries of agony and despair could be heard, barely muffled by the walls. Alone in the next room, a pink-haired man laid on his bed smiling up at the ceiling. He was deep in thought, imagining those pain filled screams coming from the man he loathed the most. He closed his eyes and focused in on the image of the pale, lengthy man in his mind. The other Espada's long black hair was spread out on the cool, metallic surface of the operating table he was strapped to. The scientist watched as the man pulled on the restraints in an attempt to free himself.

Pulling out a scalpel, he advanced on the pinned arrancar. Leaning over his victim, who by this time had stopped struggling to watch his soon-to-be torturer approach, he brought the knife to the man's lips to start the mutations with that damn smile. He sliced each corner of the man's mouth clear up to his ears, earning the alluring sound of the pale man's screams as his mouth was successfully elongated. Blood poured down the man's permanently smiling face as the screams bubbled forth from the victim.

The torturer then moved his blade to the other's navel, cutting into the skin so that it barely passed through the dermis. Relishing in the cries coming from the man on the table, he gave himself a few moments to absorb them into memory before pulling the blade slowly up the man's torso and to his sternum. He then removed the scalpel and traced fairly shallow cuts up and down the sides of his victim, making crude art of the man. Once satisfied, he pulled back and watched his specimen. The man pulled at his restraints, howling in agony, yet still only succeeding in adding to the amount of blood coating the once sterol operating table so that it began to pool on the tile below. The pink-haired scientist laughed as he brought the blade over to the man's left eye, cutting through the eye patch to reveal the hollow hole underneath. It was here that the fantasy betrayed its creator and ran off on its own path.

He paused a moment before he began absentmindedly stroking the inside of the hole with his blood coated fingers, earning a moan from the other's elongated mouth. Having no expected such a moan from his victim he was unprepared for the sensation that came next. The skin on his arm prickled into many, tiny goose bumps as a shrill chill of pleasure ran up his spine, causing him to shiver. To his surprise, he had gotten more out of that moan than the whole operation itself.

Deciding to investigate further, if only to end the curiosity that had risen up, the scientist pulled back to look into his specimen's eye. Pain was rattled throughout the beady, black eye but there was also a deep emotion that could only be described as pure ecstasy. It was those emotions that had pulled him in, wrapping tightly around his body until it was flush with the other's. As his lips met the other man's, he could taste the familiar taste of iron and, after pushing his tongue further into the other Espada's slightly open mouth, the iron mixed with a taste that was totally unique. Both men moaned before the scientist pulled away, leaving a pink-tinged trail connecting them for a moment more.

Just as he was about to head back for a second taste of the delicious mixture, he was flipped so that he was pinned between the red covered table and the now free arrancar. Said man smiled creepily down at his newly captured prey, his fresh wounds giving him a Glasgow smile. The black-haired man slowly began grinding their hips together, smile widening to reveal every one of his teeth as he lured a moan out of the man beneath him. Smiling like a mad man, he continued to grind against the other in a rhythmic motion and eventually both were moaning in an eerie harmony. Finally with a low moan he finished with one name drawled out in a deep, guttural moan, "Szayel."

It was here that the pink-haired Espada was finally able to pull himself back into reality, eyes widened as far as they could go. He managed to pull himself off the bed, panting, and headed for the shower, trying his hardest to lock the dream into the darkest corner of his mind and hoping to never see it again.

~xXx~

It's funny how when a dream goes the way you intend its considered a fantasy, but the moment it strays from the intended path it supposedly turns into a nightmare. However, what most people don't realize is that those nightmares are really a reflection of what truly lies in your heart, making it only seem like a strayed fantasy. In all honesty, those visions are only your mostly harmless nightmares of a pure fantasy.