The cool of the floor, hard and cold against his knees, leeches into Ulquiorra's skin through the thin fabric of his clothes. He doesn't mind, would never mind it, kneeling like this before Aizen, chin tilted up and jewel tone eyes hooded. Aizen stands before him, also fully clothed, one long-fingered hand gripping his narrow jaw. The grip isn't painful, but it is firm, unyielding. His smile is almost benevolent as he looks down at Ulquiorra, thumb stroking over his lower lip, but The aura of power, the undeniable force to his presence is undeniable, and Ulquiorra does not forget the reason that this is the man that he bends a knee to, that so many of the most powerful beings in hueco mundo yield to, willingly or unwillingly.
His lips part willingly when the thumb pushes in, and that smile loses some of it's seeming benevolence. Ulquiorra's tongue curls around the intrusion, and he watches those brown eyes intently, studiously, the same way he views the rest of the world. If his body reacts to this, he ignors him. After all, this isn't a mutual act.
"You're loyal aren't you," Aizen murmurs, withdrawing the thumb, and pushing two fingers in, smooth and slow but unforgiving, and deep enough to nearly gag him, if he were so disposed to allowing himself such weaknesses. "You'd do whatever I ask," he doesn't expect a response, because it's simply an undeniable fact. There is nothing he could add with his words even if he could speak, without his lips wrapped around intrusive fingers, that thrust in slow strokes even as Aizen speaks. The stretch, their shift, causes some saliva to leak from his lips, and he doesn't like the mess, the imperfection, but aizen does, so he simply angles his chin slightly and blinks, swallowing around the fingertips edging into his throat.
When Aizen pulls his fingers away, it feels almost like loss, Ulquiorra is almost disappointed, but he hadn't failed to notice Aizen's indiscrete state, the purr in his voice. He can't help the way his eyes flicker to the tented fabric before him, before meeting the brown eyes gazing down at him, infinitely pleased and confident, and he knows Aizen didn't miss his lapse either.
"You want this, to serve me," Another statement of fact, as his elegant fingers smear saliva in a thin line across his cheek, before shifting to grip the back of his neck, holding him in place, moving him no closer or further away. Ulquiorra can feel the weight of Aizen's reitsu this close, and he knows that he's allowing it to leak out, using it to slow him and weigh him down. He doesn't mind. He wouldn't ever say how much it makes him want, but Aizen knows nonetheless.
"Yes, Aizen-sama," comes the simple answer, the same answer Ulquiorra always gives, for any order. His voice, to the untrained ear, sounds as level as always. Only the two of them know how much he means it, in that moment. Ulquiorra feels filthy already, face smeared and body reacting beyond his control, and the sensation is compounded by Aizen's seemingly all-seeing gaze.
He simply watches for a long moment, and it feels like torture, the scrutiny, but any objection will bring consequences, unbearable consequences that at the same time arouse and torture him. It's a mutual sort of outlet, really. Convenient in the sense that Aizen would take if he wanted to, but Ulquiorra was always willing to give, if it's Aizen sama.
His mouth is watering, and his cock is hard and his body feels like it's burning, waiting, and it's almost a relief when Aizen undoes his trousers, reveals his erection and nudges the tip against the lower of his parted lips, as if he can sense the impatience, the need rolling off of Ulquiorra even as he holds himself still, hands neat where they rest on his legs, and back straight as a pin. He knows he's being pushed, teased and tormented, and it's only his stubborn will that keeps him from reacting, from panting and pulling against that iron grip, the paralyzing weight of power and authority.
Finally, agonizingly, Aizen pushes forward, and he's big enough that Ulquiorra's lips stretch around him, eyebrows crinkling slightly and shoulders tensing, and the hand at the back of his neck, tight in his black hair, keeps him from recoiling even as he wanted to, as the hot, heavy length sits on his tongue and brushes the back of his throat. A shudder rolls up his spine as Aizen sheathes himself fully within Ulquiorra's mouth and throat, stilling and holding them in that position for a long moment as his tongue works and saliva pools.
It's without warning that Aizen pulls back, then thrusts back in in a vicious, harsh moment that has Ulquiorra's hands clenching, his flinch at the sudden assault quelled entirely by the hand in his hair. His thrusts now that he's started are full, and fast, inconsiderate of his gag reflex or need for breath, completely controlling and demeaning. Ulquiorra's eyes water in an involuntary reflex, and through slightly blurry vision, he sees the smug glint in those eyes, such a warm brown for such a cold man.
A muffled, involuntary moan leaves Ulquiorra, he's unable to stop it, his mind so clouded by arousal and want, and that seems to be a catalyst for Aizen, because his grip becomes painful in earnest, and suddenly Ulquiorra is fighting down the noises that threaten to leave him with every breath.
"How well behaved," His voice is low, rough in a way it isn't normally, with a slight undertone of breathlessness that affects Ulquiorra in ways he can't describe. "I could leash you, if I wanted, though I don't need to," He's still talking, Ulquiorra paying more attention to that smooth tone than to the words, his attention taken up by the burning need of the hardness between his legs, even as he doesn't dare touch himself.
Once again it's disappointment when Aizen pulls back, leaving a trail of precome down Ulquiorra's chin to match the trails of saliva. Ulquiorra pants raggedly as the hand in his hair still holds him in place, Aizen once again leisurely taking in the sight as he strokes his length, slow and nothing like the savage pace he'd taken Ulquiorra with.
Ulquiorra feels debauched, he must look a mess, lips slick with precome and saliva, face streaked with saliva and the trickling of tears. Despite nay discomfort, he wants it back, wants Aizen's cock in his mouth, the weight of the attention addictive.
"You're so needy," the voice is light, benevolent, seemingly kind as Aizen's eyes focus on the tented fabric in Ulquiorra's lap. "You want me to touch you, don't you?"
Ulquiorra knows what to say, even as it tears at his pride it arouses him even further, breath hitching slightly. "Yes Aizen-sama." The slap is stinging, expected but never not surprising in it's sting, it's contrast with that honey voice.
'Ask properly," Aizen always sounds so sure, warm and level and comfortable, even with the underlying harshness of want, control, desire. Ulquiorra doesn't like begging, or perhaps his pride will only allow him to be forced to. Either way, this part he never does right the first time.
"…Please," he rasps, voice dropping slightly quieter, shame and need evident equally in the tone. "Please touch me, Aizen-sama."
The momentary pause is agonizing as he holds Aizen's gaze, before he's wrenched to his feet by his hair, a noise tearing it's way from his throat as he finds his back against the wall, a hand at his throat, brushing the edge of his hollow hole with a shock of the abrasive sensation of unexpected touch on extremely sensitive skin. He barely chokes down the agonized, pleasured moan that threatens to leave him, but Aizen's smile widens anyways. They only linger there a moment before he's spun, bent at the waist with that controlling hand still at his throat and his trousers torn down.
The cool air hits his erection in a shock, and it's a struggle not to squirm at the hand at his throat, and the hot, damp sensation of Aizen's length pressed against his exposed ass. It's somehow intoxicating, the lack of power and control he feels, when he serves Aizen like this. Ulquiorra is used to being solitary, to being more powerful than near all his peers, and Aizen's clear superiority, clear dominance had been something new to him when the Shinigami cracked his mask, made him into this. Worship and servitude to a man like that had seemed only natural, and now it was something he was addicted to.
A noise leaves him when the taller man thrusts in, muffled by a palm pressed to his mouth. Of course, that wrist is quickly taken captive as Aizen once again starts a brutal pace, thrusting into him in a unique but delicious combination of pleasure and pain. That grip doesn't yield, one hand at his throat, holding him bent and offering torturous, overwhelming sensation that he can't decide if he enjoys or can't stand. Ulquiorra isn't sure there's really a difference any more.
Every nerve is set alight in a way that's unique to this, and Ulquiorra allows his eyes to close, to focus on the sensation, the heat in his body, the slick sensation of skin on skin at their points of contact. Quiet notes of moans leave Ulquiorra with every exhale, his breathing ragged and harsh. Aizen isn't loud behind him, the sound of their skin the loudest in the room, but Ulquiorra can hear the notes of his moans under the sound of his own heartbeat in his ear.
Aizen makes no move to touch Ulquiorra's cock, bobbing hard against his abdomen and leaking precome. He's so hard it hurts, aching and hot and incoherent, and he want smore than anything to be touched, though they both know he can come without, that he can come just from the heady, intense pace of Aizen fucking into him.
He's close, he'd been hard for a long time, having Aizen's hot length in his mouth had had Ulquiorra hard and wanting long before he was even touched in earnest, and he can feel his end coming, stomach knotting and spine tensing, and Aizen is too observan't not to know, pace somehow befoming even more hurried and harsh. He's so close, just on the edge of sweet release, when the hand around his wrist wraps around the base of his cock in an unforgiving grip, and the motion of Aizen's hips stops, leaving him seated inside of Ulquiorra. The exhale that leaves him is almost a sob, and he feels his entire body shudder at the loss. Even through the rushing in his ears, he hears Aizen's soft chuckle at the wanton need of the normally stoic espada.
"Not what you wanted?" The question is so casual, so at odds with the desperation and need Ulquiorra feels, that he almost wants to laugh as well. "Hm I didn't think so. But see, what I want, is I want you to beg."
Aizen is still, and Ulquiorra knows that he will say or do no more until he gets what he wants, no matter the hot flush of shame and broken pride he feels. He feels a whine of frustration rise in his throat, and chokes it down with difficulty. Only Aizen can elicit such things from him. Pride or no, the need and desperation is overwhelming.
"Touch me," he murmurs, voice a rasp, in between harsh breaths. His body is shuddering finely, Ulquiorra notes absently, and Aizen is still and steady as a rock behind him. "Please, I n-" his voice gives out for a moment at the barest, slow stroke of Aizen's hand. But if he quiets, it will still, he knows. "I need it. I need you to touch me- I need to come- please," He's rambling, semi coherent, but as he continues with the half coherent pleas, Aizen slowly resumes moving, hand on his cock moving in time now.
By the time Aizen returns to his harsh pace, Ulquiorra is just gasping his name and the word 'please' at a debatable level of coherency, speaking purely on base instinct. He can't even hear himself, so focused on the pleasure and heat, so close to ecstasy. He comes hard, vision whiting out and knees going weak, cry louder than he'd allow himself if he were thinking coherently.
Aizen fucks him through him, not stopping or even faltering in fucking Ulquiorra, and the only reason Ulquiorra stays upright is the support of Aizen's hands. The overstimulation has his vision fuzzing at the edges, staticky almost unpleasant and overwhelming, but he couldn't escape even if he wanted too. Aizen's still thrusting into him, forcing his cock forward into his slick hand, and all ulquiorra can do is let out moans that are almost sobs. He can't see Aizen, but he can nearly picture his smug, pleased smile.
Despite how overwhelming it feels, it's still so good, so pleasurable, that Ulquiorra is hard again despite himself before long, Aizen's stamina unmatched as he fucks into him ceacelessly, though it feels as if he might be reaching his end. His thrusts come harder, less steadily, the rhythm going erratic and pounding into him in a way that has sparks flashing behind Ulquiorra's eyelids. When he closed his eyes, he doesn't know, but he can't bring himself to open them. Tears and drool and come streak his face, sweat beading on his body and come already streaking his body, and his second orgasm takes him by surprise. Ulquiorra feels his entire body sieze, vision whiting and an inadverdent cry leaving him as he clenches, but this time Aizen lets out a groan behind him, low and rough, and he spills into Ulquiorra, filling him with searing heat and drawing a whimper that he's too absent to stop.
They linger there, still for a long moment, before Aizen draws away, and the lack of support has Ulquiorra buckling, knees hitting the hard floor and body shuddering finely. He remains there, body limp, eyes closed, for two breaths, before straightening his spine and blinking his eyes open.
"Thank you for your service as always, Ulquiorra," comes Aizen's voice behind him, and Ulquiorra turns, fixing his gaze, still slightly fuzzy, on Aizen. "You were exemplary, as always."
Ulquiorra stands with some trouble, which he doesn't show, and lowers himself into a neat bow, the same as any time, if one were to not pay attention to his half clothed and debauched state.
"Of course, Aizen-sama." His response is as per usual as well, voice only slightly breathless now. Ulquiorra gathers his trousers and tugs them on, and Aizen leaves. Until the next time he requires Ulquiorra's service, of course.