Chapter 2: Memories

Warning: Rated M – Implied Non-con/consensual incest. Yeah. I went there.

"Mmmm."

He sighed as he inhaled the pleasant aroma of his chamomile tea. It was a flowery, soothing scent that left him calmed and even feeling lethargic at times; which was why he rarely allowed himself to indulge in it. He had to be on alert in his lab. To maintain a clear mind, precise movements and flawless calculations…he couldn't afford to have his mind muddled by a drink.

Tonight however he made an exception. With the reception of 'his guests' to his wing, the weight of Gin's favor on his shoulders and Nnoitra's sick obsession with him, he felt he deserved a little respite. That day had been…increasingly nerve wracking. At every turn he found himself challenged or humiliated. So it was with immense relief that he retreated to his room and retired for the night.

He sipped on the still steaming tea and closed his weary amber eyes. The hot liquid was soothing as it went down his throat to his stomach. It heated his body pleasantly, soothing his tense muscles and calming his stressed mind. He sipped on it blissfully for several moments before setting the tea cup aside in favor of pulling off his form fitting uniform.

Slipping off his boots, he stood and pulled off his jacket and untied his hakama, letting it fall to the floor. He stepped out of it and put both articles of clothing in the hamper nearby before returning to his bed to pull back the covers. He crawled into this gratefully, the soft mattress, large pillows and plush blankets swallowing him up as he pulled the covers around him.

He sighed blissfully, finally allowing himself to relax completely. He was safe here, in his domain, his quarters. Nobody could reach him and perform unspeakable acts against him. It was at this comforting thought that he returned to his tea, sipping on it contentedly until all that was left were the dregs from the tea ball. Almost sluggishly, he put the cup aside one last time before he turned over on his side and completely sunk down into the mattress and pillows. The only discernable part of him a small, pink, plume of hair poking out from beneath the blankets.

He curled his body, losing himself in their embrace in a bid for security and comfort. It was a nice feeling, the way the blankets hugged his small form, how the mattress molded to him and how the material slid pleasantly against his skin. The comforting sensation and warmth combined with the lethargic lull of the chamomile soon had his eyes fluttering shut, the stress and worries of the day forgotten.

It wasn't long before his breathing evened out, and all could be heard was the steady puff of air passing between his slightly parted lips. The child Espada slept soundly for several hours, his face peaceful in the dim moonlight. If one were to walk in on him, some would say he looked like a cherub or cupid asleep. His features were soft yet elegant with a lock of pink hair framing his face. Small hands tucked beneath his chin lying motionless against the pillow. Almost angelic in his slumber.

Soon though, his sleep was interrupted. Thin eyebrows turned down, his once peaceful expression becoming wary. It seemed as if he were dreaming something exceptionally unpleasant.

Brother, want to play a game with me?

His body tensed, small hands gripping the sheet and his delicate lips pulled back into a sneer as he hissed out a retort to the specter in his dreams.

"No…I don't want to play a game with you Illforte."

He went quiet again, though his body was no less tense.

Aw c'mon, I need your help. It's something only you can help me with. Please?

Little hands gripped the sheet defensively, his expression conflicted. He began to worry his lip and turned his head into his pillow, mumbling out a few uneasy words.

"If I'm the only one that can help, fine…What kind of game?"

Let me show you, it's kind of hard to explain.

The tenseness in his body loosened as he seemed to concede to the dream specter, his Brother, though not for long. A look of disgust transformed his sleeping visage and he pushed against the covers, shaking his head.

"No…I don't want to play this game Illforte!"

Why not? You'll have fun, I promise, now let me show you how to play.

He shook his head defiantly and began thrashing in his sleep, his body going wild. He kicked and pushed at the linens that bound him, twisting against them and entangling himself all the while protesting in vain.

"No…no don't! I don't want to do this! Please Illforte! Please don't…"

He finally stilled, his breath ragged and skin glistening with sweat. Tears shimmered at the corners of his eyes.

"Please Brother, let me go…"

Just relax.

He tensed up again, skin paling and breath faltering as he was overcome with terror.

"No Brother don—Ahhh!"

He screamed, his body going rigid against the nightmare. Gripping the sheets desperately, he struggled to breathe as his breath came out in shuddering gasps. He remained that way for some time, aside from the occasional jerk and tremble of his body.

"Ah…hah…Brother, please stop…it hurts…"

His voice was broken and raw from his screaming. Sweat poured from his body and a puddle of tears grew upon the sheets.

It won't hurt for long Brother, I promise. I'll make you feel good.

"No…no please, it's wrong…"

He grimaced as his body trembled and arched away from his phantom Brother, seeking escape from the pain. Eventually, his agonized protests trailed off only to be replaced by something much more horrifying. He began to writhe against the covers, quiet mewls issuing past his slightly parted lips. Unconsciously, his body began to move into the mattress, seeking release from the pleasure that tormented him.

Release that wouldn't come as he gave a particularly loud moan that made him snap his eyes open, leaving one nightmare behind to live another.

"Oh god…" He closed his eyes and curled up into the sweat soaked sheets and blankets, despairing, trembling and painfully aroused from the nightmare memory of his Brother.

"Brother…how could you…"

He sobbed, tears cascading down his face as his body trembled and jerked, finally breaking down. It was too much, too damn much for him to deal with in one day. He could only take so much, lose so much control and…ugh. Oh…god…that dream…that memory. He shuddered as ghost pains and pleasure wracked his body. The feelings that particular dream inspired in him were wrong…so wrong.

He lay there shaking for sometime, his mind weighed down and stomach twisting painfully with unwanted emotions and desires. It was disgusting, the erect organ between his legs. And he couldn't control it. Not one damn bit. He was a child, and he'd dreamt...remembered what his body considered pleasurable things, despite the pain leading up to it, the humiliation, and it had reacted accordingly. It utterly disgusted him and he loathed himself for it. If he didn't need that piece of anatomy so badly he would be tempted to cut it off!

With effort, he pushed the offending arousal out of his mind and lay quietly, his body eventually stilling and breath evened out. The tears stopped as well, though the tell tale stains on his cheeks and ache in his eyes would be with him for a while. Reluctantly, he uncurled and pushed himself into a sitting position, grimacing slightly at the familiar sticky coat of sweat that clung to his skin. He hated the feeling…he felt…dirty.

He needed a bath, no, he needed to be cleansed…and god…a soak in his hot tub sounded so wonderful. Destination set, he slid out of bed, noting that his Fracción had come sometime during the night to supply him with a fresh change of his miniaturized uniform. He glowered. They better not have come during his dream, or there would be hell to pay later.

Grabbing the clothing, he moved to his closet and withdrew a regular sized jacket which he pulled on in the guise of a robe. Zipping it shut, he left his room, using sonido to speed through his domain, not wanting to deal with his 'guests' who had at least heard him scream, if not all the dream itself.

It had been so long, so very long since he'd dreamt that memory. He refused to remember it willingly, though he never forgot, ever; the bitter relationship between the twins glaring proof of it. He despised his brother, hated him for what he did. And no matter what he did to protect himself he always came back, wanting more.

Szayel was the skinny bookworm, researcher…aspiring scientist. Where as his Brother had been active, athletic and very much in shape despite his equally effeminate, lithe form. He never stood a chance at defending himself…

…and even knowing it wasn't his fault he couldn't help but feel bitter that he had let it happen, let it continue to happen.

A shadow crossed his face as he entered the bathroom, locking the door behind him. After setting his clothing down, he undressed mechanically, unzipping and pulling the jacket-robe off and discarding it to the side before heading into the bathing room.

Nobody had believed him. Szayel was an antisocial recluse with no friends. He looked down on everyone and shunned, even threatened those persistent enough to try and win his trust. He also got into his fair share of trouble. Being the inquisitive teen that he was, he had a bad habit of capturing and dissecting the neighbors pets, all in the name of science. Then when he got caught, he'd tell a half truth, saying he had found them dead anyways, which he did, having poisoned their food. So why not learn from them?

Of course his parents never fell for it and in the end, utterly distrusted him. So when he came to them accusing their precious Illforte of rape…they laughed. Even after he'd provided a semen sample, they'd called him a sick little freak and refused to test it, saying that it was wrong to try and frame his innocent Brother.

So it continued; their sick little game of cat and mouse. Szayel would hide, Illforte would find him…

Numbly, he crawled into the tub and settled himself deep in the swirling, hot water and closed his eyes, willing the memories to fade. He didn't like thinking about his human life, and it wasn't often he did so. But when he did, he could only remember bitter, traumatizing memories which only served to fuel his hatred for his Brother.

Needless to say, if his Brother came wandering around his trap laden wing anytime soon, there would be hell to pay. Szayel was a vindictive bastard, begrudging and passionate in his bid for revenge. He was one you did not want to cross.

Just like Nnoitra had.

A/n: Definitely not as angsty as the last chapter, but its pretty bad.

Why IllforteXSzayel? Well, like I said, this fic is following my other fic, Touch of an Innocent, and the opportunity for a dream chapter presented itself and I couldn't resist :3 the reason for this chapter will make itself apparent in later chapters.

As for the implied rape and lack of detail…detail wasn't necessary. This is a NnoiSzay fic after all. I'll save that for them :3 apologies to anyone who is disappointed with the lack of detail lol