Authors note: This is just a little something I wrote up, simply because I was disappointed with the number of Szayel fanfiction up, so I thought I'd try and boost the numbers a little, you know? Plus I wrote this to try and force my creative juices to start flowing again. Seriously, I'm as dry as an African savannah during dry season in terms of ideas here.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I know...it's painful to admit, but I don't own the Espada either...damn Aizen-sama.

Observation is Key;

Chapter one: New toys.

It was and still is my belief that you can not discern an enemies weakness by fighting them head-on the first opportunity that arises and hope for the best. No, it's something I strongly disagree with. It has no form, no grace, no evidence that proves it is nothing more then luck when the victor leaves with his life. I understand, however, that fighting triggers some sort of primal instinct to survive, and no, that's not something you need to be a genius to figure out.

I feel it sometimes, too.

Preferring to plan, I find a certain carnal pleasure in the expression on my enemies face when they realize just how much of a dangerous situation they are in. I can't help the grin that forms as their eyes widen in disbelief. It would almost be funny if they weren't inconveniencing me in the first place. However, I am not unlike someone such as Nnoitra Jiruga in the way that I enjoy seeing my enemy hitting the floor for the final time, laying helplessly as the final curtain falls early in the act - if only to experiment on it later.

I am a researcher at heart, really. The number one specialist in creating spirit-based weaponry. Analysing reiatsu is so easy it's practically a hobby. Reiatsu...such an amazing thing...but, it's not nearly amazing being able to rip it...to pieces...

Something that honestly makes my head spin, sadly enough, is that, and I am loathe to admit it, I cannot possibly research everyone and everything every second of everyday, and there will always be unpredictable variables, however unlikely they may be. I think of everything. I am unstoppable. I. am. Perfect.

Another thing I maintain is a strong belief that, and this one, much more simple then the first is; observation is key.

But, as I walked down the hallways of Las Noches, my mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the subject of today's meeting. Aizen-sama had instructed me to create some sort of protective barrier around Las Noches that did not rely on what the Shinigami called 'kidou'. Apparently, it was a cause for concern that other shinigami would be able to breach his kingdom if they truly wanted to. It was as if he saw something like that happening in the future. No Shinigami would be so bold as to enter Hueco Mundo.

Nevertheless, Aizen-sama ordered it, and I will prove my worth yet again. It would be difficult especially since appointing me meant that he had in mind a spirit-based shield, and since 'Kidou' was, in essence, solidified Reiatsu, it would be almost impossible for me to utilize something that could withstand whatever it is that Shinigami do to break barriers. Some sort of long-winded unbearably irritating chant no doubt.

But, like I said: difficult, but not impossible.

My eyes followed the floor, narrowed calculatingly, subconsciously counting the tiles that my feet connected with. I continued thinking about the scale in which I would need to pull something like this off, and more importantly, how to do it in the space of a month. That was my deadline of course. I can't do these things at my own leisure, unfortunately. I work so much better when I'm not being hurried along by an impatient hand.

I was stopped dead in my tracks, both mentally and physically when a hand seized the collar of my uniform and forced me roughly into a nearby wall. I let out an almost strangled cry on contact. I scowled slightly, eyeing my assailant coldly "Grimmjow..." speaking of impatient hands...

He returned my glare, a scowl of his own – I made a mental note to be more concious of my surroundings, berating myself for being so lost in my thoughts "You're comin' with me" he stated matter-of-factly, gesturing with his thumb behind him.

I frowned, "I'm flattered, but you're not my type-"

"Shut up" he growled out, yanking me from the wall pointedly, dragged me behind him as he made his way down the hallways. I was bent double, stumbling slightly as I struggled to keep with his fast pace in my awkward position. I attempted to tear his hand away with my own, but he held fast, his grip only tightening – I gave up after a moment, I never was much of a fighter anyway.

We walked – if you could call it that – a few more paces before I huffed in annoyance "let me up Grimmjow, I'll follow you of my own accord!" It's not as if I had much of a choice anyway, unfortunately, he was my superior...despite his lack of a higher brain function, and as such, I must comply with his wishes should I want to get out of this unscathed. Grimmjow can be quite stubborn when he wants something.

Releasing me with a scoff, he shoved his hand back in his pocket as I straightened myself up to follow behind him. After that, we walked quickly, and were at our destination in no time at all, especially since neither of us were one for small-talk. He pushed open a door roughly, and stepped inside, not once looking back to see if I would make a run for it. But, of course I would never allow myself to do such a thing. I follow him, and stand just inside the doorway.

Glancing around, I internally gasp; this is Grimmjow's bedchamber. There's nothing particularly special about it. Sparsely furnished. Two chairs and a table in the corner of the room to my left, on my right a table stacked none too neatly with miscellaneous items- is...is that a book? I raise a brow sceptically, moving over to the desk slowly. Picking it up, and brushing off the thin layer of dust, obviously he doesn't read a lot then, if he does indeed read anything at all.

I smirk at the title, obviously fictional. Something called 'The Matrix'.

With the book in hand, I examine the rest of the room, his windows were nothing more then three slits in the wall, about three to four inches wide, stretching almost the entirety of the wall, from the floor to the high ceiling. Other then that, there was nothing of merit, save for the large white and seemingly fluffy rug on the floor and, instead of a sofa, like most Arrancar have, he had a bed, it's sheets as plain as the rest of the room.

Stood by said bed, Grimmjow watched me, glaring all the while "When you're done lookin' through my shit..." he ground out impatiently, leaving the sentence to hang in the air. His eyes fell on the book in my hand, and he opened his mouth to speak.

I chuckled airily, beating him to the punch as I weaved my fingers through my hair, tucking it behind my ear and taking a few paces forwards "you read?" I asked, genuinely astonished.

His eyes narrow at me, and I hug the book to my chest in mock fear. He storms up to me, yanking the book from my grasp and I let out a sharp intake of breath on-cue. He pays no further attention to me as he brushes past me to replace the book on the table, it was then I noticed a lump in his bedding – my brows furrowed "Stark went to the Real World once, couldn't fuckin' help himself." I barely acknowledged Grimmjow's confession with a distracted 'Hm' as I moved towards the bed. "He bought it to-"

I pulled back the sheets on the bed, and stood frozen, my hand clutching the blanket tightly. Grimmjow must have noticed "Ilforte..." I muttered to myself. Pulling the sheets off the bed roughly, I examined my brother, leaning closely into his face. It was strange to see my older brother like this, to say the least. He was warm to the touch, and had broken out into a cold sweat. My brows knitted together, leaning closer, listening carefully as he breathed – shallow and ragged, he was struggling, that much I could tell by his wheezing. But, despite the fact that it was almost unheard of, no, was unheard of for a hollow, Arrancar or otherwise to fall ill...it wasn't the strangest thing-

"This is what I needed you for." I jump up, surprised, and turned, only to find my face a hairs-breadth away from Grimmjow's own. He looked at me, his expression serious, almost sombre.

"I'm not a doctor" I stated, somewhat tightly, letting out the breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I shifted again, turning back to face Ilforte, now painfully aware of how close Grimmjow was in proximity to me. Ilforte's reiatsu was fluctuating wildly.

Hearing Grimmjow scoff again, I sighed mentally "Doctor, scientist, what's the difference?" he asked, rhetorically.

"Well, for one" I mutter coldly "a doctor actually cares about their patient's well-being." My eyes wander over Ilforte's prone form – he was shivering violently, and his eyelids fluttered. Ah, I thought, he wasn't asleep as I had previously assumed. "Why don't you take him to the medical wing?"

"I ain't a fuckin' retard" oh, really? "I've already tried that. They can't do shit for 'im."

"So instead you choose to enlist me, when you know perfectly well I have better things to do then make a fuss over something so trivial as this?" He grunted, and I took that as an affirmative "how selfish of you, Grimmjow." I continue, letting irritation seep through my cool tone.

I choke, the back of my collar being pulled roughly and I tensed, hearing Grimmjow growling in my ear "Can you help him, or not?"

"He's dying, Grimmjow. Or haven't you noticed?" I bit out, frustrated with being man-handled. I felt his grip loosen slightly, and I took the opportunity to straighten myself out "his Reiatsu is fading, and he is weakening in physical strength by the second. Care to tell me precisely how long he's been this way, hm?"

"'Bout a week" Grimmjow muttered "I took him to the medical wing roughly three days ago. He suddenly just...collapsed, for no reason at all." I nod silently. Make no mistake, it's not that I can't help Ilforte, I could, given the time. But, considering that neither he nor I had said time at our disposal, and, given Grimmjow's apparent lack of urgency. I am not at all convinced that Ilforte will last until the end of the week, especially in his current state. He had always been weak, and it was not unsurprising that he would fall pray to such...unusual circumstances.

I can't help but think, for all the coldness Grimmjow usually shows his subordinates, that he had been through a lot of trouble for someone as useless as Ilforte "I wonder," I began, adjusting my glasses, pushing them up the bridge of my nose with my middle and index fingers "did my brother mean something to you?"

Closing my eyes, I waited, stood with one arm across my chest, resting the elbow of my other arm on that, and my hand tucked under my chin thoughtfully, placing my weight on one foot instead of the other. "He was a good fuck" I hear him mutter, I was almost relieved when I felt him moving further away from me. I opened my eyes just wide enough to glance at Ilforte's face, he had given no indication that he had heard any of our discussion, nothing at all. I suppose his senses have dulled quite nicely.

Ilforte, in my experience with him, had always been emotional. It was unlikely he would have given himself to Grimmjow so wholly had he not had feelings for the Sexta. It was almost sad, to hear Grimmjow speaking of the relationship Ilforte must have assumed they were in so lightly. It sounded to me as if Grimmjow thought this was nothing more then casual sex, and again, I find that fact unsurprising.

"Considering my schedule" I stated, turning my head slightly to watch Grimmjow as he glowered out of one of his windows "I can't do anything to help."

"So he'll die?" Grimmjow asked, turning his icy gaze on me.

I nodded solemnly "Most likely."

I saw, more then I heard Grimmjow move – in a second he was in front of me. My eyes narrowed significantly at that. He had used sonido when he was only a few feet away from me in the first place. My eyes widened however, when he reached for my hair, grasping it tightly and yanking me forwards. I let out a pained hiss – but even that was interrupted when his lips smashed against my own.

"Fine" he growled against my lips, shoving his tongue into my mouth violently, exploring my mouth with his tongue. I worked quickly to overcome my shock and returned the kiss, I doubted I had the option of refusing Grimmjow at this point "if I can't have him – you'll do"

My eyes flew open, and I forced myself away from Grimmjow's lips, panting slightly "I will not be a replacement for my brother! Perhaps you should lower your standards some. Find someone more like Ilforte to take his place in your bed" I scowled, wincing only slightly when his grip on my hair tightened.

"You're his brother..." He smirked triumphantly, drawing nearer to me "how much closer can I get." He laughed a little, kissing me roughly again. I could tell he was amused as he let out an almost inaudible snicker when he bit my lips viciously, drawing blood. He lapped it up as I whimpered, more from shock then actual pain.

I cried out, as he tore at my shirt, pushing me to the floor gruffly, easily. I moaned, despite myself, when I felt his hand trailing down my chest, and his lips pressed to mine again, softer then before, but there was certainly still a dominant force about it. I reached up, wrapping my arms around Grimmjow's neck pulling him closer, wanting more, in spite of how much I abhorred the situation.

I sucked in a much needed breath when I felt Grimmjow's hand cup the front of my hakama. I bucked my hips, a strangled moan slipping from between my lips. Nipping and sucking at my neck, Grimmjow continued to stroke me through my hakama, cursing mentally when I felt myself harden with every stroke.

Moaning helplessly, my breaths shaky, I stared at the ceiling, truly unable to do anything to help myself – I bit my lip, preventing what I felt would've been an extremely loud moan. I lifted my leg, sure to return the favour, relishing the expression on his face as I felt him harden against me. His eyes closed and he let out a low groan, and quickly reattached himself to my lips. The kiss was hungry – greedy.

Grimmjow made quick work of my hakama after that, pulling it swiftly to my knees, I would have been indignant, had I not already succumbed to him. "G-grimmjow..." I moaned out, my voice heavy with lust as I watched him undo his own hakama hastily. I surprised myself by doing so, of course, I'm not so deluded as to think any of this would lead anywhere romantic. Not that I have an interest in such things when Grimmjow is concerned.

Gripping my legs tightly, he positioned himself at my entrance. My eyes widened again, as panic rose within me, and my grip on his shoulder's tightened "Gri-" I cried out as he penetrated me, "A-ah~" I gritted my teeth, closing my eyes to stop them watering as they were. He had clearly taken my earlier actions as if I were preparing myself for him, a simple misinterpretation. I let out a pained whimper as he began to move, without so much as considering my needs to adjust.

To put it simply – I was in new and unexplored levels of agony. I felt myself bleeding with every one of Grimmjow's thrusts. He was big, I'll give him that, and he hurt, most definitely. Honestly, I had never thought Grimmjow to be the gentle type, and it looks like I was right to assume as much.

Leaning down thrusting deeper into me, Grimmjow bit down on my collar bone, nipping and sucking, intent to leave a mark. panting heavily, I let out a hiss of pain as Grimmjow hit a particularly sore spot. I felt him shift lightly, and then next thing I knew, it was blissful agony. I moaned wantonly, wrapping my legs tightly around Grimmjow's waist as he thrust into me, harder and sharper then before.

I dug my nails into Grimmjow's back, hearing him groan against my skin. I felt his breaths coming in quick pants. I ran my hand through his hair thoughtlessly, gripping his hair tightly as I tensed "I-I-" I let out breathless moans, feeling Grimmjow speed up significantly, growling determinedly.

Moving to meet his thrusts frantically, I moaned, sensing I was almost at my peak "Mm- Grimm~jow..!" coming, I allowed my head to fall back against the floor, panting in relief, still feeling Grimmjow's move inside of me. Following soon after, I moaned at the sensation of being filled, accompanying Grimmjow's pleased groan.

Slumping on top of me, Grimmjow lay, catching his breath. I did nothing to push him off, still revelling in the feeling of having Grimmjow fill me so completely. I'm not sure how long we stayed that way, but I was pulled from my dazed reverie when I felt the Sexta shift and begin to pull out of me – it was all I could do to keep from whining.

He stood up, retying his Hakama, it took him a moment, but after noticing my gaze upon him, he thrust his hand out with a slight scowl, offering to help me up silently. I accepted, slipping my hand into his own wordlessly. Pulling me to my feet was easy enough for him, and when I steadied myself, wincing slightly from the pain, which had once again reared it's ugly head due to my distinct lack of euphoric afterglow, I retied my own hakama. My eyes following Grimmjow as he exited the room, going into what I could only assume to be the bathroom.

Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair almost tiredly, yanking at it when I discovered a few knots. I frowned at the state of my uniform: partially torn down the middle of my shirt, from collar to sternum, my hakama damp with my own seed. I closed my eyes for a moment, resolving to fix myself up the moment I got the chance.

Of course, it had to be then I remembered Ilforte. My eyes flew to him, he was awake last time I checked, and sadly, must have sat through his 'love' screwing his brother in the same room. Frowning slightly, I cursed Grimmjow's lack of tact. Ilforte was on his death bed – the least Grimmjow could've done was take me elsewhere, or at least waited for Ilforte to die like a decent man would.

I was stunned, putting it bluntly, to find that upon closer inspection...Ilforte was not breathing, his deep burgundy half-lidded eyes staring blankly with a single tear gracing his almost angelically peaceful features.

I smirked.

Gently, so as not to strain my already sensitive anatomy, I bent over, pulling Ilforte against my chest as I lifted his lifeless body from the bed. Poor thing. Grimmjow was probably the only thing he thought I would never have. Making no effort to let Grimmjow know I was leaving, I carried Ilforte to the door, Grimmjow would figure it out eventually.

At least now I could work on Aizen-sama's request, and, I suppose, in my spare time, work out what it was that took my brother's life. Closing the door behind me, with a swift kick, I made my way down the hall, towards the eighth tower. Although, I thought to myself, as I lugged the dead weight in my arms down the corridor; Grimmjow never once said my name during our little...interaction. Perhaps that was his way of respecting Ilforte's memory. I shrugged to myself mentally, putting the matter behind me, indifferent to it.

(A/N: So, what did you think? I know this is a one-shot, but, I could easily turn this into a multi-chapter fic if I get enough interest. I hope you enjoyed it. Ilforte fans, I'm sorry. Have a cookie in compensation *Gives large chocolate cookies* I love him too. It was difficult for me to do...)