Title: Mismatched
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: AizenxGin
Word Count: 416
Warning/s: A
little… suggestive; some spoilers for the special chapter of Vol 15
(I think it was?).
Summary: No one
understands Aizen and Gin's attachment.
Dedication: JaB,
because she's making me draw porn and I'm getting into the mood
for it very slowly with things like this.
A/N: Yay, study
break!
They aren't in love, even if by definition, they could be called lovers. And they definitely aren't really friends, either.
It's hard to explain why they are the way they are because one has to actually experience it to really understand it.
There's a lot of secrets, a lot of hidden agendas that go on between the two of them, even when they're fucking, and maybe that's part of the appeal in the end anyway.
Ichimaru Gin, in the end, is absolutely faithful to Aizen Sousuke, and as to why, it can't really be determined. Maybe it's the thrill of having a worthy enemy so close by. There's a danger there in Aizen's bed, and a familiarity as well, and those things together make their attachment to one another as messy as the bloody sheets they inevitably leave behind each time they're together.
The rest of the third division can't quite figure it out, and most of them, all of them, are too busy cowering in their barracks as the sounds of slamming bodies and breaking glass and rattling doors echo throughout their compound to care. They can't figure out what their captain and vice-captain find in one another… gentle-seeming Aizen-taichou and dangerous-feeling Ichimaru-fukutaichou. No parts of those two men fit together in any neat fashion that the third division can imagine, and some of them think that perhaps those crashes and those cries they sometimes hear late at night are a result of two puzzle pieces that don't belong together being shoved forcibly against one another.
It scares them all, but all they can really be is relieved that it isn't one of them in there instead.
They don't get it, they don't speak of it, they ignore it out of fear of what voicing their concerns might entail.
They do their level best not to understand any of it.
But it's not important that they understand anyway, so long as it doesn't directly involve them, and Gin likes seeing them cower from him when he passes by in the hallway on his way back to his vice-captain's quarters the next morning, covered in blood that may or may not be his, bruises everywhere. They bow and scurry off, and he can smell the fear rolling off of their backs as they run. He takes it all in with great joy, smiling that eerie smile of his before he licks his fingers clean and thinks that the taste that's been left behind is absolutely heavenly.
END