Disclaimer: For those of you who dislike mxm, please take this chapter with a grain of salt. Or skip through it I suppose.

"Don't… please… Don't do thith to me…"

"Why, Nel? Why shouldn't I?"

"It hurts…"

"Just a little. I've administered enough analgesic to dull most of the pain."

Sniffling followed. Her tear stained face with its tormented gray eyes stared into his amber irises. She was barely conscious, her pale chest exposed and blooming red under his scalpel. She'd shamefully insisted he leave covered what he wasn't working on, so he'd drawn a sheet over her pelvis and legs. He hadn't even received thanks for this considerate gesture; typically, he wouldn't have cared whether or not his subject- male or female –was naked on his operating table. Modesty had no place in his lab.

"Why do you have to hurt me?"

"I told you. Because I like hurting people."

"I don't like being hurt."

"Most people don't, and even the masochists I come by don't usually like what I do to them either."

She whimpered as he made another incision, and he admired the way her skin resisted before parting smoothly under his blade, revealing the layer of yellow, glistening fat that sat underneath the epidermis and dermis. To a non-surgeon, skin seemed like something delicate, but the truth was that it took more pressure than one expected to cut through. His strokes were practiced and clean; he'd grown adept at judging Hierro and how much strength to apply with different patients.

Clamping back the flaps of skin he'd cut, her chest cavity was finally exposed. He dabbed away some of the blood obscuring his sight and ran a tender finger over one of her ribs.

"As Hollows, we were heartless beings. Our Hollow masks were formed from our hearts. Yet biologically, we still possess them. I wonder then, is the heart something literal or figurative?"

She had no response to this. She was too delirious to dredge up a coherent reply, and he smiled affectionately down at her.

"Then what about you? As Arrancar, we regained some of our humanity. We ceased to be bestial, mindless, hunger-driven creatures. But still that nature remains. It is why we do not love. But you claim to."

"Szhayel…"

"I wonder… can I learn of this love by studying your heart?"

He laughed at her dizzy, terrified look as he reached between her ribs to touch the palpitating organ, then withdrew again.

"Will you be a dear and give me your heart?"

"No! No, don't!"

"There is no need to worry. I can grow you a new one, and as an Arrancar, your body can withstand much more trauma than a human's ever could."

She sobbed, shaking her head weakly as he prepped a knife, appreciating its immaculate stainless steel surface for a moment. Her lungs inflated and deflated with her panicky breathing, obscuring his target somewhat, but not enough to really impede his progress. He scored the sections of ribs he intended to remove, then snapped them cleanly at the defect line he'd cut into them, moving on to her heart. And as she screamed, Szayel raised the bloody, fluttering thing so she could see it. Her face turned pale and took on a greenish hue as she fainted, and he indulged a moment of examining it as it weakened, gushing out crimson fluid that reeked of copper and salt all over his clean white clothes.

The heart was promptly set aside in favor of a syringe full of green liquid, which he flicked to rid it of air bubbles before injecting the arterial stump with a generous dose. It swelled, a new heart beginning to form as he brushed this same liquid over her severed ribs and ruptured veins. Cleanup was efficient, with a final layer painted over the incisions he'd made to leave her skin as flawless as it had been when he'd started. After that, it was simply a matter of transfusing blood back into her and installing her on a drip of liquid reishi. She'd never even entered surgical shock…

-.-.-.-.-.-

Meetings were so tedious. They'd always bored him, for he generally had better things to do with his time than sit around at the table in the war room with the other Espada. At least half of the ten usually didn't want to be there either. Stark would rather be sleeping, Barragan detested them all, Hallibel preferred the company of her Fracción, Nnoitra had little patience for orders, and Grimmjow would rather be out killing things. The rest were either too devoted to Aizen or too moronic to care. And he himself… well, it really depended on the content of the meetings. In some cases, Aizen would have a task for him that was genuinely interesting. Other times, he languished among his intellectually challenged compatriots.

Today, he'd had another presentation to occupy his time. Another progress report to deliver. But while he'd stood and presented his findings to Lord Aizen, his mind was elsewhere; occupied with a green-haired girl who still lay recuperating secretly in his laboratory. The scientist longed to get back to her, to see if she'd awakened yet, or if she still slumbered, eerily still under the effects of the painkillers and anesthesia that flooded her system. To someone who was unfamiliar with etherized patients, she might have looked dead, but one could still tell she lived from the faint color in her lips and cheeks and the subtle stir of her chest as she breathed. A scene from earlier that morning played repeatedly in his mind, and he lingered over the morbid visuals, savoring how beautiful she'd looked splayed out on his table. Not so beautiful as Nelliel Tu, but pretty enough in her pain.

As the other Espada and the trio of Shinigami filtered out of the meeting hall, he remained behind to organize his notes, enjoying the relative peace that followed the departure of his peers. However, one man remained behind, lingering conspicuously. He stood, hovering over him like a lanky bird of prey as his dark eye watched his progress enigmatically. Finally giving in to his feeling of foreboding, Szayel spoke up, addressing the Quinta.

"What is it you want, Jiruga?" he asked quietly as he finally looked up to meet his eye. Nnoitra smiled back unpleasantly, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his hakama. His grin was really closer to a leer, but that was a pretty typical expression for the tall man.

"Ya know what I want, Granz. We've worked together before. Ya've probably come to understand the way I think pretty well, haven't ya?"

Szayel stood, papers arranged neatly in a portfolio and tied closed. He shot the man a look of distaste. His tone was soft, but filled with disdain as he replied.

"Of course. Your Hollow nature is exceptionally prevalent. You hunger more than most Arrancar. For power, sex, prestige. So what is it you want this time specifically?"

Nnoitra's leer widened, his white teeth flashing in the gloom of the hall.

"Let me give you a hint. I'll let ya put the rest together yerself, genius."

The Quinta flickered out of view, stepping into Sonido, and Szayel only had time to tense before he was behind him, hot breath fanning over the back of his neck as he bent him forward over the table roughly, pinning him against the cool stone. Szayel's breath hitched with nerves as Nnoitra rubbed up against him promisingly, hardening arousal apparent between them.

"Sex then," he commented, voice surprisingly even despite the anxiety that bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

"Bingo."

"Hallibel not cooperating with your advances?" Szayel mocked, "Can't bully her into bed like you can with me?"

Nnoitra hissed behind him, plainly incensed by his taunting commentary, but rather than deigning to reply immediately, the man pulled his legs apart and licked up along the back of his neck, pressing him even harder into the table as his breath curled lazily over the damp trail his tongue left behind.

"I don't think you're in a position to make cocky remarks, Octava."

Szayel shivered slightly at the darkness in his tone, but otherwise kept his composure remarkably intact. It was true; he was in a bad position, but the situation wasn't completely hopeless. He had ways to get out of this relatively unscathed if he played his cards right.

"No… you can't even bully me into bed. Instead, you settle for fucking me against a table. How crude."

Nnoitra slammed his head down against the table, and his skull made a horrible cracking sound as it hit the stone. His vision spun for a moment before he recovered from the mild concussion, chuckling madly. He was so impatient. So barbaric and unsophisticated. It really was incomprehensible that he had to work with him, that he'd ever worked with him in the past. If he'd been glad to help him take down Nel purely for the appeal of tearing her down from her pedestal and watching her fall from grace, then he'd be happy to lure Nnoitra into the desert and murder him. Or perhaps have him on his table, writhing and screaming in agony. The Aspect of Despair, despairing at his hands. Hahaha… wouldn't that be rich…

"Fuckin' crazy bitch," Nnoitra growled at his eccentric mirth, hands sliding forward to untie his hakama and slide them off his hips, grinding into his ass. Szayel continued to laugh quietly until he felt the taller Arrancar slip a finger inside his now exposed Hollow hole and hook it in the rim of the void. His chuckling faltered as a moan escaped him, and he could practically feel Nnoitra grin behind him as he stroked it again victoriously.

"Ah…"

Shit…

"That's right. Moan for me you little slut," the Quinta purred, teeth closing over the back of his neck as his fingers continued to molest him. Szayel's hips arched away from them, back against Nnoitra, who pressed forward into him. His body felt warm, multiplying the heat his own body had begun to radiate as Nnoitra's ministrations sent little flares through him.

"I'm… only a slut… if I'm willing. If I want you. If I voluntarily… give myself to you. But… it seems the best you can do… is rape," he murmured haltingly, breath uneven.

"Ya fuckin' want this, Granz. Despite ya callin' it rape, I don't see you protesting."

"You disgust me."

"Then scream. Beg me to stop. Cry for help from your precious Aizen-sama, or perhaps Ichimaru or Kaname," Nnoitra husked, pulling his own hakama down behind him. Szayel felt his spidery hand glide over his hip, then circle down into dangerous territory.

Time to stop messing around…

"Wait…" he breathed, twisting his head to look back at him. Nnoitra paused, listening, violet eye dark with lust.

"Why?"

"Wouldn't you rather have me willing?"

Nnoitra considered his words, then eased up on him slightly, grin back in place though he still looked wary. Of course he wouldn't buy his offer immediately, even if it appealed to him. Savage as he was, Nnoitra was cleverer than most seemed to give him credit for.

"I'm listening," he said.

Szayel shifted, turning around to face Nnoitra and tugging his hakama up just enough to lend him an ounce of modesty as he slid up onto the table, legs dangling casually. His shirt was still hitched up slightly as he leaned back, exposing a few tantalizing inches of skin as he directed a lazy look towards the tall man. Predictably, his eye strayed lower, but he managed to keep most of the irritation out of his tone as he made his offer.

"I'd rather not be raped here for all the world to hear and see if they so choose. So instead, if you must have me, why don't we go somewhere more private?"

Nnoitra considered this offer for a moment, violet eye narrowing suspiciously.

"You're not shitting me?"

Szayel rolled his eyes theatrically, crossing his legs as he gave him a disdainful look.

"You're three ranks higher than me, fast, much stronger physically, and with a denser spiritual pressure. What hope have I of escaping you here outside of my lab complex? I'm vulnerable without my traps and equipment and ability to manipulate my own domain. You know that. It's why you're accosting me here."

"'Course. I'm not fool enough ta pursue you in yer wing, Granz. I know ya pull nasty shit on unwelcome visitors. When even Ichimaru's unwillin' ta vist ya, that says something," he commented after another moment's consideration, lascivious grin returning.

Szayel's fingers twitched, resisting the impulsive temptation to reach into his pocket and take out the preloaded syringe he carried on him at all times outside of his wing… but it was far too soon. At least he was in the beginnings of a position now to do something about Nnoitra, but sometimes he loathed having to be patient.

"So, do we have a deal?" he asked of the Quinta.

"Maybe," was the ambiguous reply he got. Szayel's fingers curled against the table, tensing, and the clarification that came a moment later didn't put him any more at ease. "See… I kind of like the idea of screwing you on a table. It's kinky. I don't mind a bit of voyeurism myself, and when it comes right down to it, I doubt anyone's gonna bail you out, unless it's to extort a favor from ya later."

Szayel's mind raced to think up a suitable counter offer to this, suspecting all the while that Nnoitra was playing him here. Seeing just how far he could push him for the privilege of privacy. He didn't care; he had nothing to lose. In his mind, he was getting laid tonight. Whether on a table or in some secluded room, it didn't matter to him. But it mattered to Szayel, and that was a bargaining point. Leverage. And people thought he was incapable of even the most rudimentary strategy…

Of course, Nnoitra had a few flaws he could exploit as well. His greed for one. Impatience; another. And then there was the bit of information that he'd just let slip. He liked kink. Not a surprise by any stretch of the imagination, but something useful, for he turned his argument on its head. With a cocky smile, he leaned forward, hand slipping around to cup the back of Nnoitra's head. One finger found his Hollow hole and skimmed the edge lightly, teasingly. Nnoitra's eye darkened with lust as he withdrew, fingers catching slightly in his long black hair, though he did look guarded at his sudden change of attitude.

"If it's kink you want, there's so much more to do in private. Like I said, I'll go willingly. I know you like to play games with your victims, Nnoitra. You're a sadist, both in and out of bed. So if that means chains, ropes, gags… I won't protest. Much."

The idea appealed to him. He could see it in his face. All he needed was confirmation now…

"Deal," Nnoitra finally agreed, and Szayel exhaled lightly, realizing he'd been holding his breath. There was no cause to worry. He had the situation under control. Nnoitra was a predictable man…

"Good," Szayel said.

"No going back on your offer now," Nnoitra warned lazily, eyeing him appraisingly. He could just imagine his fantasies as he entertained them, and the ideas made him shudder internally. Never, never would he willingly submit to someone like Nnoitra. What a perfectly revolting concept. Someone like himself, degraded to that level.

"Of course not. I'm a man of my word."

Nnoitra laughed.

"Ya aren't an honest man, Szayel. Yer as crooked as me."

Szayel's eyes narrowed at the casual usage of his first name, and he made his displeasure known quickly and tersely.

"That's Granz to you, Jiruga."

"Whatever. 'm not gonna call you Granz while I'm fuckin' yer tight ass. 'Sides, I want you screaming my name. My proper name. None of this Jiruga shit."

He reached up, tweaking one of his nipples brusquely through the fabric of his shirt, and Szayel felt it twinge sharply, stiffening. He masked the disgust he felt as Nnoitra pulled him off the table, and Szayel was forced to tie his loose hakama one handed to keep them from falling off his hips as he grabbed his folio hastily and stuffed it under his arm. Nnoitra didn't bother to wait for him to keep up, and his long legs ate up the distance quickly as he stalked down the halls to his wing, dragging Szayel behind him. When they reached his suite, he pushed through it impatiently to his bedroom, and Szayel only had time to drop his papers before he felt himself pulled against Nnoitra.

The look the lanky Espada gave him was one of hunger as he trailed a proprietary hand down his spine, grabbing his ass when he reached it and squeezing as his eye glimmered playfully. Szayel gnawed his lower lip reflexively, consciously keeping his body relaxed despite his desire to thrust a knee up between his legs and drop him painfully. Seeing the hostility in his eyes, Nnoitra smirked, letting him go and stepping back. He walked over to his bed, sitting down with his knees spread and arms balanced on his thighs casually, watching him all the while.

"Strip," he ordered.

Szayel hesitated. Stripping meant losing contact with his hakama, which meant losing contact with the syringe. Which he was not about to do. Still, Nnoitra expected a bit of a show, so he decided to comply with half his demand. Lifting a hand to his lips, he tugged off one glove with his teeth, watching his expression all the while. He seemed to be enjoying himself, though Szayel was surprised. He'd have expected a man as impulsive as Nnoitra to be all over him, taking him immediately. But… since he was reluctantly letting him have him, it seemed he wanted to draw this out. Perhaps humiliate him more. Bastard.

He removed his other glove casually, then unzipped his clingy shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Szayel waited a moment, then tilted his head, speaking up.

"You sure you don't want to undress me yourself?"

Nnoitra looked amused.

"And make me work? Yer doin' a well enough job on your own."

Szayel inhaled lightly to steady himself, then walked over to him. He hadn't been able to tie his hakama well, and they hung tantalizingly low on his frame. Reaching forward, he took up Nnoitra's hands, bringing them up to rest on his hips. The Quinta looked up at him for a moment, then he flashed him a smile and his grip became firmer. He rubbed his thumbs appreciatively over the sensitive skin that covered his pelvis, hooking them under the fabric and easing it down teasingly.

"For someone who hardly leaves his wing, you seem awfully confident," he commented. Szayel made a disparaging sound at his implication.

"I'm neither ignorant nor well practiced. I simply have some experience."

"How much?"

"I don't really think that's your business."

He felt himself suddenly hoisted into Nnoitra's lap, and he instinctively straddled his waist, finding a more comfortable position as his knees pressed into his sides. Nnoitra leaned forward, licking over his chest. His mouth found the nipple he'd molested earlier and bit down on it, drawing a hiss from Szayel as his hands fisted in Nnoitra's shirt. The Espada sucked, pulling, then let it go again with a soft pop. Szayel tried to ignore the way it made him feel, balancing arousal with revulsion as Nnoitra straightened, gazing into his face with an infuriatingly smug expression on his face.

"Don't matter. You'll cry like any whore by the time I'm done with you."

His hands slid up and down his sides, thumbs brushing over his bare stomach. Then one glided up his back to twine in his hair, dragging it back violently so his throat was exposed. Szayel gasped slightly at the sudden jerk, whining as Nnoitra attacked his neck, biting down hard and molesting the skin, leaving welts and marks that would show up red and purple later. Thank god he wore a high collar so it wouldn't arouse any commentary, unlike most of the Arrancar in Las Noches who dressed to show skin. His other hand snuck down to his lower back, pushing him against Nnoitra so their bodies molded together.

Nnoitra's mouth traveled down to his collar, leaving a trail of marks- sometimes bloody -in its wake. He laved over these with his tongue as he moved up to his jaw, pausing to nip at his ear before finally dragging his head back down into a brutal kiss. Szayel's lips were crushed against his and his mouth violated as Nnoitra forced his way inside, stealing his breath and making him feel nauseous as his tongue gagged him. He tasted blood as his lip split, salty on his tongue. Blood…

That was right. There was another way to handle Nnoitra, even if he was separated from his hakama and their precious cargo. But there was a tenuous line between control and danger, and he risked stepping over that now. Especially when he felt Nnoitra's fingers slide under his hakama to twist inside his Hollow hole again.

His body jolted, cry muffled by Nnoitra's mouth on his. Nnoitra broke the kiss a moment later, and he slumped against him slightly, moaning raggedly as he tried to catch his breath. Vulnerable to pain, Hollow holes were also sensitive and exploitable in other ways. Nnoitra's fingers dug inside persistently, driving Szayel mad with need as his fingers curled against his chest, cutting shallow crescents in his skin as he arched against him. Nnoitra's limited patience lasted only long enough to hear his vocalizations grow loud and pleading, then Szayel found himself plucked off his lap and shoved down into Nnoitra's mattress, sprawled awkwardly across his bed. There was a moment of respite as Nnoitra paused to fetch something, then he felt his arms pulled straight above his head and wrists lashed to the headboard. His hakama were ripped off a moment later and cast aside, making him shiver at the sudden chill.

Something was attached to his throat. It felt silken against his abused skin, but he had a pretty good idea what it was, and the temporary relief it provided would not last long. Proving his suspicions, it was tightened slightly, constricting his breathing, though not enough to cause problems. Yet. He flinched as Nnoitra grabbed his hips, raising them and hunching over him as he bit down on the void he'd come to resent. Szayel cried out at the pain and sick pleasure it gave him, resolving to fuck this man up as soon as possible. This wasn't a slight his pride would suffer; he would get revenge for this treatment. When he felt his legs spread and Nnoitra's hair brush against his thighs as he licked up along the inside, that was his limit. He could wait no longer, nor would he let Nnoitra get any further.

"You got yer tattoo on the inside of your left thigh? Kinky bitch," Nnoitra chuckled, pausing. Facing the headboard of Nnoitra's bed, Szayel smiled bitterly.

"Yes Nnoitra. Too bad you don't get to do anything about it."

It was a simple thing to feel out his cells in Nnoitra's body. They'd already combined with his central nervous system, taking him over and waiting for his command. His parasitic ability evolved as a Hollow to compensate for his lack of physical strength. He didn't have to go hunting for prey; prey came to him, attracted by his weak appearance. And the moment they attacked, the moment they tried to devour him, they were snared. His. Caught by his lure.

Nnoitra was no different, hungering for him in other ways. He supposed he should be grateful for his crude, violent nature and his penchant for rough sex. Focusing, he willed the man to stop and felt Nnoitra freeze behind him. There was a moment of silence as Szayel panted slightly, recovering, then Nnoitra snarled.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, pissed that he'd been stopped just short of his goal. Szayel grinned, back in his element. He collected himself despite the indignity of being sprawled naked on Nnoitra's bed and replied in an even tone.

"Just an ability of mine. I won't enlighten you as to how I am able to do this, but your nervous system is now under my control. Resistance is futile."

"The hell it is!"

Still, in spite of Nnoitra's vehemence, he was unable to resist his control. Idiot. He'd told him there was no point in struggling, but then, fools would always believe that if they simply tried hard enough, they'd be able to compensate for their lack of ability. And this was why Nnoitra had come to him in the first place so many years ago. Because he was a talentless, ambitious barbarian, and he couldn't do the job without his help.

Oh, vindication was sweet. He savored it as he ordered Nnoitra to untie him. Predictably, he refused. Szayel only smiled and repeated his command, this time willing him to do so as well.

"Untie me."

Nnoitra couldn't disobey. He could picture him gritting his oversized teeth as he reached up and undid his restraints. Szayel pushed himself upright, rubbing circulation back into his slightly chafed wrists. He knew they'd have been red and sore if Nnoitra had gotten his way. Turning, he slid off the bed and gathered his hakama, pulling them back up and tying them before he faced Nnoitra, a sadistic grin curving his lips.

"It doesn't matter whether you try to take me on a table, my wing, or even in your own bedroom, Nnoitra. Fuck with me, and I will make you regret it. You cannot control me."

He picked his way back over to the bed, climbing up and crawling over to Nnoitra, who still knelt in the middle. With a dark but playful look, he pushed him down onto his back, straddling his waist as he reached up and lashed his wrists to the headboard above his head as he'd done to Szayel. Then he proceeded to strip him, divesting him of his clothes and tying his ankles to the posts at the end of the bed, making sure to pull the hemp ropes he'd fetched from Nnoitra's "toy box" taut so he was bound tightly. A gag went into his mouth to silence any further commentary from him, and at this point, he had Nnoitra glaring at him fiercely. Hovering over him, Szayel peeled his eyepatch back, revealing his Hollow hole, which he reached into and yanked on brutally.

Nnoitra's body jerked slightly against its restraints at the agony, but began to writhe for different reasons as he worked the sensitive spot, amber eyes glowing at the torment he saw there. Nnoitra couldn't reach up and touch him, couldn't reach down and touch himself. There was no way of relieving the ache he knew formed in his body as Szayel tortured him, delighting in his suffering and the muffled noises he made. And when his eye finally rolled back and his body tensed, Szayel was there with a slim rim of plastic to block him.

Nnoitra was close to passing out, but Szayel wouldn't let him. Not yet. He slapped his face, grounding him and keeping him awake with the stinging pain. As Nnoitra gazed up at him with desperate need and seething malice, Szayel tilted his head, letting his fingers glow bright pink with the beginnings of a cero. He concentrated the glow to one, letting it incandesce with energy before he lowered it to Nnoitra's chest. And as the man screamed behind his gag and tried in vain to twist away from it, he burned a large eight into his chest and stomach, lips drawn back in a crazed, savage expression. The smell of charred flesh rose to greet him, and it was as sweet a scent to him as the aroma of a fine cup of vanilla chai tea.

"Remember this you fucker," he breathed, then left him lying there, pulling on the rest of his clothes, gathering up his folio, and running a hand through his mussed pink hair as he departed. He fingered the plastic container that contained the dose of tranquilizer in his pocket idly as he walked down the halls to his domain; it remained unused, waiting for another day.

He only realized how tired he was when he stepped into his home, the adrenaline high wearing off and leaving him exhausted. Instinctively, he began to walk towards his bedroom before he remembered that he still had a guest here. Nel. He'd been gone for longer than he'd intended, and it was possible that she'd gotten up. Escape was unlikely, but… she was a determined girl. Feeling a twinge of anxiety, he bypassed his bedroom and headed straight for the lab.

She was awake alright, sitting up on her table and staring off into space with a dazed expression on her face and dressed in a clean white gown. As he walked into the room, she looked up, giving him a pitiful look as she shrank away from him nervously. However, some indeterminable part of her seemed to sense that not all was right with him, for she made a comment that surprised him.

"Shzayel… are you ok?"

He'd only had her for a week, and she was asking about his health? Or state of being? Or whatever she'd discerned from his features in that mysterious way children seemed to be able to do. Closing the door, he walked over to his stool and sat down, watching her for a moment before replying.

"I am fine. I just ran into a bit of unexpected trouble with a coworker."

"Oh…" she said, not really knowing how to reply to that. He took the initiative and asked her a question in turn.

"And how are you feeling, Nel?"

"I'm cold," she said plaintively, wrapping small thin arms around herself, "The table ith hard and the blanket ithn't very warm…"

He considered this for a long moment, mulling over an idea before finally voicing an offer.

"If you're good and don't try to escape, I can move you to a cot when I'm not immediately experimenting on you. That will be easier on your body."

She eyed him guardedly for a moment before nodding. She'd stopped her desperate flight attempts a couple days ago and had yet to attempt escape again. She seemed fairly resigned to what he did to her.

"Ok. I promith…. I'll be good."

He offered her an indulgent if tired smile as he slid off his stool, walking over to her and helping her down off the exam table. Her hand was cold as he took it and led her down to another room, and though he knew she wouldn't get hypothermia due to her natural resilience as an Arrancar, it didn't make it any more pleasant. And perhaps she was more susceptible given her diminished spiritual body… Hmm… something to take into account…

"Here," he said, opening a door and flicking on the lights. It was a small room with a solitary cot; he didn't use it very often, so it could probably use some airing out and new sheets. For now, it would do. He walked over to the storage cabinet, pulling out a pillow and some more sheets, which he spread over the bed, pulling them back for her. She walked over to it after a moment, climbing up and snuggling under the sheets before turning back to look at him.

"What're you gonna do now?" she asked, looking slightly apprehensive. He shrugged his shoulders lightly.

"Sleep. I'm tired. I might get up and do something later, but then again, I might just take the rest of the evening off. It's been awhile since I've given myself a leisure day."

She looked slightly relieved, and he noticed for the first time the dark circles under her gray eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well, and it was starting to affect her health. How careless of him. Perhaps it was prudent that he'd moved her here.

"Kay. Ah… goodnight Shzayel," she said.

"Good evening," he corrected before inclining his head slightly and turning to leave. He flicked the lights off, leaving the door slightly cracked so the room was not pitch black, but couldn't help making a final comment before he left for his room.

"Don't run, Nel. This freedom that I'm giving you… don't abuse it. Not until I understand you, I won't let you go," he said quietly.

If she answered, he didn't hear. He was already walking away as soon as the last word left his tongue. When he reached his bedroom, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt and gloves, drawing back the covers to slip underneath. He curled into his mattress, comforted by its softness and the warmth from his body that the blankets trapped, and gradually, the Arrancar began to drift off. But even as he slept, he could still see her pale face and sad, dazed expression, judging him silently through a child's gray eyes.


A/N: So, I apologize for those of you who really find male slash/yaoi distasteful. However, that is a dynamic in this story, though not a major one. Nnoitra's a slimy character in this fic, and I've chosen to make him an opportunist, regardless of gender.

I guess you could say there's a twisted triangle between Nnoitra, Szayel, and Nel in this fic. Romantic triangle is not the right term for it, so I'll just say relationship triangle?

Thoughts on the chapter… it's longer than my others, even though I expected it to be short. But I like the length and flow and content, so I'm pretty happy with it. Ah… to comment on the green fluid, it's basically what Mayuri uses as regeneration serum. I figure Szayel would have invented something similar since he'd have a use for it, what with all the surgical torture he does. Next chapter will focus on Nel and Szayel more closely, so you can look forward to that.

Read and review if you liked it or want to leave feedback or a critique or voice an opinion or whatever. It's really up to you as the reader whether or not you want to say anything, though I love hearing from you. Otherwise, I'll see you in the next update. Till then.