[Nnoitra x Szayel] Explicit sexual situation, Yaoi, Rough play. Szayel's a masochist, expect him to act like one. Continuation of Days of Destruction (Part I),

Summary: Nnoitra's quiet time alone end up being interrupted by the octava espada. Both of them seem to have some bizarre fetishes.

A silky breeze brushed through strands of long, black hair, a violet orb fixed on the midnight horizon. It was always night in Huecco Mundo, the moon always shined from the same position in the sky, nothing ever changed...Nnoitra sat at the edge of the rooftop observing, impassively, the nothingness of his world. He never had much to do since his work was passed on to Tesla, who was always eager to obey his master's commands. This left the quinta espada with more than enough idle time, which he usually occupied battling and destroying other hollows outside Las Noches. However, tonight he'd favoured spending his free time alone with his thoughts. Seldom did he have these opportunities, since he had a tendency of running into quarrels with the other espada and Tesla was always accompanying him, like a lost puppy. The tall espada didn't usually mind it, but it did get on his nerves every once in a while, sometimes he wanted to savour the solitude on his own, and Tesla's presence disrupted that.

That evening Grimmjow had tried, yet again, to defeat Ulquiorra, and failed. Yet again. Nnoitra sighed in contempt. "When the fuck's he gonna learn...idiot", he thought to himself. Following his defeat, the sexta espada, who also happened to be his regular night partner, had slipped away to the world of the living seeking that shinigami, leaving him all alone. Of all days it had to be the one day Nnoitra needed to fuck himself into mindless oblivion. The quinto didn't understand the grudge his subordinate had developed, and why it was taking so long to actually kill the damn kid. Ever since Ichimaru had given him green light to kill the boy, Grimmjow had been absent most days, which irritated him. He wasn't sure whether he was sharing the sexta with some puny human or not, but he was sure it would happen eventually, and he didn't enjoy that thought in the least. Not that he loved Grimmjow, but he had grown fond of him, and hell if he was good in bed. Picturing the sexta lying on his back, legs spread, lust filled gaze, almost made him salivate. For better or worse, the quinto was selfish, and sharing his toy wasn't something he would give in to willingly.

A cool draft swirled against his bare skin. He wouldn't bother wearing his top or his boots if he wasn't intending to fight, or at least step outside of the palace, instead, he'd opt for walking around solely in his hakama. For a moment he regretted his decision, the chilly wind made him shiver. It was always cold in Huecco Mundo, not that Nnoitra would complain, he preferred it that way for some reason he couldn't point out.

That was the same kind of breeze that blew the night he dropped Nelliel from that very ledge. "That stupid...green haired whore...Nelliel…" His lips quivered, only partially in hate. The quinta espada had definitely changed since that incident, hellbent on becoming stronger he had finally achieved his goal, but his triumph unravelled into a bitter consolation prize. The stronger he got, the more he felt it, the emptiness. The need to finally defeat the former espada, and the knowledge that he had squandered that opportunity. Not that he ever had it, but at least he had possibility to try, a glimmer of hope, now extinguished. Nnoitra could never bring himself to admit that he made a mistake and that he missed the girl. That he wanted her back. After all, in his own twisted way, he loved her and admired her. Her dismissive attitude being the sole encouragement he needed to become better, stronger, to be able to one day defeat her. All the frustration pent up, the ardent need to prove that he wasn't a mere beast, that he was a warrior, all that turmoil was locked within him, and had already started to eat away at whatever was left of his heart. He let out a chuckle, amused at how his aspect of death had only become evident thanks to that overgrown child.

Of course, the feelings he had for Grimmjow didn't even remotely approach what he felt for the green goddess. His fondness didn't surpass that of intimacy turned into familiarity, but it was nothing close to love. The jealous fits he threw when his subordinate chose to spend his time fighting that shinigami were a mere lashing out at the thought of sharing what he thought of as his property. Nnoitra let out another wistful sigh, hating himself for feeling anything more than the need to destroy.

In his mind, strength left no room for emotion or sentimentality. That was the reason why he hid all of this from his fellow espada, even from Tesla. The blonde had eventually come across some of the things he so desperately wanted to erase from himself since they were so close, and even though Nnoitra had learned to live with it, it wasn't something that he ever discussed openly with his fraccion. His affinity for literature was one of those facts he failed to conceal from Tesla, he would go through books like they were nothing, but his collection had grown over the years, becoming more of a library than a stack of books piled up in his quarters, thus, becoming physically impossible to hide. The octava espada had discovered that as well, but never commented on it, only smirking whenever he would find the quinto lost in one of his stories.

It hurt, though. It hurt to have this need to conceal everything about him, to sacrifice every last bit of his inner self to become stronger, the strongest of them all. But as much as it hurt, it was a necessary evil to achieve his purpose. Perhaps, if he ever got there, Nelliel would finally give in and end his life. Now that, that was something he would be more than happy to surrender everything else for. That woman's blade, the acknowledgement of their equality. That was the only way he could ever have her, and it drove him insane with flaming desire. Assuming she was still alive, which was quite an imaginative leap. Nnoitra sighed again, annoyed at the inability to quiet his mind, and combed his spindly fingers through his silky, black locks. The only thing he asked for was a bit of time for peace and quiet, and here were his thoughts assaulting his tranquility.

A spike of reiatsu flared at his back, bringing the quinto back to reality. "Szayel". That unmistakable velvety sensation, the octava did have a very smooth reiatsu, unlike any other arrancar he had encountered. Even though everyone had their particular signature, Szayelaporro's was distinctively soft.

"What'cha want, Szayel?" - he asked, annoyed at the interruption.

"Oh nothing...I was just on my way to my laboratory"

The pink haired man stepped into the moonlight, approaching Nnoitra with silent steps.

"So why'd ya stop here?"

"Can't I just pause for a casual chat with the quinta espada?" - Szayel cocked a curious eyebrow as he closed the distance between them, standing at Nnoitra's back - "I'm exhausted from work. I've been developing a new serum for Aizen that…"

"Do I look like I give a shit?" - Nnoitra snorted, while Szayel knelt, his breath warming up the skin of the taller espada's neck.

"Oh...is your kitten away on one of his adventures?"

"Yup."

"So he's left you all alone…"

"Looks like it."

"...and no one to play with" - a wicked grin took over Szayel's features.

"Hmm" - Nnoitra growled, not really interested in talking to the pink haired man at his back.

The octava espada leaned his head forward, gently nudging the tip of his nose along the back of his superior's neck and resting his chin on the crack between his neck and shoulder.

"What a naughty little kitten" - Szayel's velvety words barely above a whisper, his hand trailed Nnoitra's defined back and slipped through the silky strands of hair hanging down. - "Maybe I want to play with you"

Nnoitra let out an exasperated sigh, motivating a soft chuckle from his subordinate.

"Don't be like that...you loved it last time I did" - His fingers fondling the back of his neck and sneaking around it, making their way down to the quinto's chest - "and it's been so long since then…"

A soft bite closed in on Nnoitra's earlobe, followed by a trail of gentle kisses down his long neck made his skin tingle at the touch. Szayel did know how to inflame Nnoitra's physical needs better than anyone, even if he wasn't as much fun as Grimmjow, or as pure as Nelliel. The quinto sat there, almost allowing himself to get lost in those hands, their fondling growing wilder by the second, pink lips parting to allow a wet muscle to run shamelessly over his naked skin.

"That hand doesn't belong to the man I want".

The quinto tilted his head back as he closed his one violet eye, hesitant of the outcome his actions might provoke. It seemed so easy to give in to pleasure. The octava espada may not have meant anything to him, but he was as good a plaything as any, and he might as well have Szayel touch him instead of doing it himself. His delicate frame was so malleable, so easily handled by Nnoitra's fingers, and despite the lack of attachment between the two, Szayel wasn't one to shy away from pain or new experiences. The quinto had already discovered this in previous occasions, once witnessing the smaller man culminating in extasis after his superior had accidentally snapped two of his ribs, and laughed madly after realising the bones were peeking through his otherwise unblemished skin. An exciting prospect, the allure that satisfying his darkest desires brought, the ones he wouldn't dare share with Grimmjow or anyone else, all the sick, twisted fantasies, concoctions of bloody murder and frenzied appetites he would barely be able to confess to himself. This was the only man who could soothe the most forbidden facet of his lasciviousness. And here he was, his vexing fingers sinfully playing with a pebbled nipple.

"Those lips don't belong to the woman I love".

Leaning back on his elbows, the temptation grew tenaciously. Allowing Szayel's wicked tongue to trail down his chest teasing and nipping his skin, grazing those pearly teeth over his collarbones was a treacherous path to explore. A probing digit made its way to the other nipple, circling around it. While the octava's hands caressed his lean chest, his tongue returned to Nnoitra's long neck, sucking lightly on the pale skin, while his lips playfully switched between frisky nipping and sweet kisses. Giving in to Szayel's appetites was a dangerous game to play, even for the quinto; there was always an ulterior motive to Szayel's words. But that made the game all the more inviting.

A sorrowful spasm disrupted his descent into pleasure, followed by a most devastating feeling of loneliness. It hit him then, he had been resisting Szayel's embrace because a part of him unconsciously hoped that the sexta would return for the night. Or that the former tercera espada would return at that precise moment. He would much rather share either one of their beds than Szayel's. Nonetheless, he meant nothing to them, he was nothing...he was completely alone, as hard as it may have been to admit that fact to himself. The delusion of companionship burned him from the inside out, and suddenly he saw no reason to not give in to his subordinate's ongoing ministrations. If Nelliel was dead, and Grimmjow didn't hold him in any esteem, why should he be deprived of such mind blowing pleasure for their sakes? A dead woman and a man who wouldn't lose a minute of sleep over his death. Why did he have to miss out on a night of titillating fantasies over someone else? Sentimentality?

"Tch, not worth my time" ran through his mind.

Pushing all thought and common sense aside, he rolled over, trapping the weaker espada between the floor and himself, forcing his limbs to stop their movements.

"Ya know I ain't gonna be all sweet and cuddly when I fuck ya, right?"

"I have never expected you to be, Nnoitra" - A devilish grin spread through Szayel's expression, challenging the stronger espada.

"I won't stop if I hurt ya, don't care if ye'r cryin' or beggin' or bleedin' " - The quinta espada took the challenge, he wanted to push Szayel to the limit, curiosity getting the better of him. It was no secret that the octava espada was a freak between the sheets, and Nnoitra ached to see where the limit of his lascivious brutality lied.

"Had a bad day… how convenient that I woke up in a playful mood today, ne?

A glistening violet orb scrutinized the pair of amber irises beneath it, searching for the hidden meaning in those carefully selected words, a trigger that would justify the tumultuous exhilaration that stirred in his chest.

"So, would you like to take me here or shall I…"

Before Szayel could finish his question, Nnoitra's hands firmly gripped the smaller body, lifting it off the floor and sonidoed back to his quarters, carrying the octave espada. Sex with Szayel had never been an emotional affair, the few times he'd permitted himself a taste of the eccentric man's body it had simply been an outlet, a way to satisfy the thirst for forbidden cravings. Even if he had already died and become an arrancar, the quinto's sadistic passions easily overwhelmed most of the other espada's inclinations, the octava being the only one who dared delve into that seldom explored side of Nnoitra's appetites and yet, effortlessly eclipsed his brutality with his own madness.

Steadying himself, Szayel quickly ogled his superior's room: a sloppily hidden library, desk, chair, a ridiculously large bed occupying the centre of the room, pack of cigarettes lying on the window ledge, two books on the floor by the side of the bed. The room wasn't decorated in the least, unsurprisingly, since the quinto had no need for emotional attachment to material objects, according to Szayel's judgement. His time was better spent tormenting Tesla, killing weaker hollows or destroying random objects. However, a grin slowly made its way to the weaker man's pink lips, he very rarely set foot in the quinto's palace, and this was the first time he had actually been invited inside it. Perhaps dragged inside would be a more fitting description, but he attributed that semantic issue to Nnoitra's barbaric lack of decorum.

A thin hand fisted in his pink locks and interrupted his examination, dragging him forcefully towards the bed. The quinto swung his arm when they stood a couple of feet away and tossed him on the mattress, the bed moved back, scraping loudly against the floor.

"Get rid of yer clothes" - Nnoitra all but whispered as he untied his sash and let his hakama slip off to reveal the rest of his newly exposed flesh, long pale legs firmly standing their ground, protruding hips sharply sticking out and his impressive cock already half hard - "ya can start suckin' my dick"

Perfectly manicured finger tips tugged at the buttons of his uniform, slowly undoing them, while Nnoitra heavily dropped his body on the bed beside Szayel. While the octava deliberately took his time undoing his clothes, Nnoitra wrapped those long fingers of his at the base of his engorged length and slowly slid the grip to the head while a violet eye met two amber ones, hungry and impatient, watching the glacial movements of his partner's hands.

"Don't be anxious, Nnoitra-sama. Patience always bares the sweetest rewards" - Szayel took a great deal of pleasure in testing his superior and inflaming his fury, it was probably one of the aspects he enjoyed the most about him. The rougher he was, the better he made the experience.

"Tch, I said I ain't gonna be sweet, ya lil' shit" - there it was, a hint of the vicious man Szayel longed to have inside of him - "Ya need me to rip those off'a ya?"

Sitting back on his heels, the octava gracefully dropped his top on the floor behind him and drove his hands to his hakama, lazily untying his sash.

"Has anyone ever mentioned your lack of courtesy?" - Pressing the quinto's buttons always excited Szayel, his superior's temper did wonders to amuse and please him - "Perhaps if you were more of a gentleman your little kitten would be in your bed instead of fighting that shinigami boy…"

"Shaddup"

Nnoitra's patience wore dangerously thin.

"Perhaps it would be him in your bed instead of me...although I'm sure he is not as captivating as I am…"

"Yer takin' too long" - Nnoitra scoffed, resisting the urge to lose his temper and lash out at his new toy.

"Or maybe you would prefer that green haired girl...what was her name again?"

Szayel shifted his attention to his sandals, delicately untying them. His hakama was Nnoitra's to destroy, he concluded. A murderous look raked over his slender body, the last few straws of the quinto's patience straining while his hand tightened its grip around himself.

"Nelliel".

"Ah! Yes, that was it...Nelliel".

That name did not belong in those wicked lips. It was Nnoitra's, and Nnoitra's alone to use. Szayel smirked silently at Nnoitra's growing frustration, purposely undressing as slowly as humanly possible. He wanted so desperately to watch the taller man unleash his anger on him, a carnal demonstration of pure bloodlust, and he was so close to achieving his goal. So close to breaking Nnoitra's spirit.

"She was quite a specimen".

Nnoitra's free hand shot out at Szayel's face, cupping his chin with a bruising grip, his eye flaming in anger.

"Watch yer mouth".

The prospect of hurting that man who so brazenly dared to overstep his boundaries made the quinto's blood rush to his already painfully hardened length. He wanted to make him suffer, make that pretty face contort and scream in agony, possibly break an arm or two and watch him squirm while begging for mercy on his body. In any case, Szayel would be leaving his room unconscious or in excruciating pain. Picturing the image of a disarrayed Szayel, lying on the thin bed sheets, bleeding and gasping for air made Nnoitra's cock twitch between his fingers in anticipation, but he had seen through that cunning man's game. He knew Szayel was trying to make him turn into the beast everyone took him for, whatever the weaker man gained, Nnoitra couldn't understand, nor did he care. His hand picked up its pace, awaiting those delicious pink lips to engulf his cock fully. Leaning slightly forward Szayel met Nnoitra's vicious gaze bringing his hand to caress that angular face, a thumb brushed along that prominent cheekbone, half hidden beneath a soft piece of fabric.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, my dearest Nnoitra, I'm just teasing" - A soft chuckle feigning sincerity left his lips, eyes locked in an intense glare - "You know how much I love my little diversions, …ne? ...pet?

And that was all it took for Nnoitra's composure to come crashing down. Even if he had been intent on winning the challenge Szayel posed, his battle of wits, that was the word he used for Ulquiorra's prisoner. It was the word that describe those too weak to be considered human, arrancar, shinigami or anything that had ever been a person. In that fraction of a second a switch flipped, and winning Szayel's stupid game became irrelevant, all that mattered now was making him pay for his insolence.

A fleeting hand got hold of Szayel's pink hair and forced him to bend down, still half dressed, propping his hands flat on the mattress. His mouth positioned at the tip of the thick length, he parted his lips and just when he was about to swirl his tongue around the swollen head, he felt Nnoitra spasm and roll his hips forward, pushing himself fully into the weaker man's jittery throat.

"Le's put that mouth to better use, ne?"

Szayel felt his muscles strain with effort, his throat aching, painfully stretching around his superior's arousal, desperately trying to accomodate the engorged member. He had forgotten Nnoitra's remarkable size, and had trouble adjusting to it, gasping for air. After all, it had been a while since the last time they played together.

"If ya bite down I'll knock every last one of yer teeth out, ya fuckin' whore".

Nnoitra let himself enjoy the tightness of his subordinate's throat, threading the pink strands of hair around his fingers to secure his grip on him.

He rocked his hips back, pulling out of Szayel's mouth and allowed him a single, sharp gasp for air. He would need it for what was yet to come, and without any warning, he snapped forward again, burying himself completely in that delicate throat, long fingers still tightly fisted in the pink mane. His rhythm became frantic and precise, quickly pumping into that hot cavern, disappearing between full, rosy lips only to reappear moments later, tearing that passage apart. The quinto let a strangled moan tear from his throat, obstinately reticent to admit how much he was enjoying fucking his subordinate's mouth, and how much he reveled in the thought of humiliating him like that. In his mind, that sight was the perfect example of submission, a weakling being forced to suck on his pride and joy, lost somewhere between pleasurable degradation and pain. He let his head fall back and his eye close, a strand of pleasured whimpers from his own lips gracing the weaker man's ears.

Szayel's head was throbbing, dizzy from the exertion and lack of air. He was certainly not expecting the quinto to turn something as mundane as a blowjob into such an acrimonious task. Unconsciously his hands travelled to rest on the stronger man's thighs, partly trying to get a grip and steady himself, and partly making an effort to hinder the merciless pumping. The octava closed his eyes, holding back the tears of effort pooling underneath his eyelids. He shuddered and felt Nnoitra staring at his body, no more than a receptacle for his thrusts, manhandled and abused. Not wanting to back down from the challenge he had offered the quinto, Szayel prudently pried his eyes open halfway, meeting the enraged violet glare looking down at him, which, unsurprisingly, only seemed to antagonize the taller espada relentlessly pumping into his mouth.

Nnoitra's eye slitted, furious that the weaker man was still taunting him. As much as he enjoyed being sucked into that vortex of warmth and tightness, the hatred for his comrade grew steadily, inflamed by his aroused state. He thrusted harshly into Szayel's lips once more, hitting a sensitive spot which made the pink haired man gag, and pulled his head back, freeing his cock from its wet sheath, a string of saliva still connected to those pink lips. The octava breathed in, gasping, desperate for air. The taller espada took a second to eye his subordinate's feminine features, his amber eyes, bloodshot, tears streaming down flushed cheeks, wet swollen lips, with a purple undertone, a trail of drool running down the corner of his mouth, dripping his chin down to his neck.

His bony fingers abandoned their grip on the pink strands of hair and shifted to Szayel's throat, firmly closing around the thin neck. "That's probably going to leave a bruise in the morning" Szayel thought to himself, deprived of breath again. Effortlessly, Nnoitra used his other hand to flip him over and toss him face first into the mattress, still gripping his neck tightly. Impatient as he was, he didn't hesitate to pull at the pink haired man's hakama, ripping it to shreds and threw the remains to the floor.

Grabbing a sharp hip bone, he coaxed Szayel's hips up, popping his ass in the air, spread wide open for the taller man's view. Reluctantly, he managed to calm himself down, evening his ragged breath out a bit. His eye studied the dainty body propped in front of him quietly, the only sound coming from it was Szayel's uneven gasps. The octava shivered when he felt a sharp nail trailing down his spine, scratching his perfect skin. Apprehensive of what Nnoitra had planned for him he felt the sharp touch transform into a cold caress brushing over his ass cheek. A stern slap followed. And another. Held down in that unsteady position he felt a cold draft blow through the room, another shiver coursed through his body, expectant, awaiting another wave of painful debauchery.

Nnoitra grinned at the sight in front of him, uneasiness radiating from the weaker espada's body. He gave another soft, appreciative slap to Szayel's rounded ass cheek, watching him tremble at the sudden touch. Another slap followed, harder, making his skin redden and burn at the touch. Without any other preparation, the quinto spat in his hand and slicked his cock from base to top with it, stroking himself a couple of times while he let his eye roam over the fluttering body held beneath him, ass exposed, knees spread, and positioned himself at the entrance of Szayel's twitching hole.

In a single thrust, he pushed his cock into the tight passage, tearing through the ring of muscles around him and let out a lust filled moan. He felt a warmth pooling around him, making him shudder in excitement. That second felt like an eternity to Szayel, his eyes shooting wide open, pain radiating throughout his entire body, and went numb momentarily. The feeling of being filled up to the brim always excited him, but taking in all of Nnoitra's dick with no preparation was indeed a challenge, his bloody insides being proof of it. He let himself feel that thick cock intruding in his body, savouring the sensation of being completely filled up with every inch of that throbbing dick, every curve, every enlarged vein, every twitch coaxing him into moaning and screaming. Both of them stiffened, riding out the waves of sensation running through both their bodies.

"Oh, fuck..." - Nnoitra gasped, delighted at the tightness of Szayel's passage enveloping him.

Before the octava had a chance to adjust to the enormous member buried inside him, threatening to tear him apart, Nnoitra gripped his sides with bruising force and resumed the furious pace he'd had while fucking Szayel's mouth, indifferent to the pained expression in his subordinate's semblance. In that limbic state his eyes remained screwed wide open, his mouth as well, the screams Szayel's mind ached to produce only came out as silent, ragged breaths.

"Nghh...N-Nnoi…."

He tried to speak, but his voice was barely above a bewildered whimper. Every time the stronger espada plunged his cock inside of him flooded his nerves with pain, and unwittingly woke up his own neglected arousal. As much pain as he was in, his body still reacted eagerly, wordlessly begging for more of his superior's abuse. Szayel felt an electric jolt, as if Nnoitra's skin was bound with electrical tips, shocking his senses into a state of absolute pleasure. Torn apart between two opposing sensations, struggling to remain conscious was exactly what Szayel had been hoping for, and what turned him on the most. Passed the initial shocks of pain, his body started to adjust to the length forcing its way deep inside of him, and had now transformed into the most quintessential form of gratification. Thrilled at the prospect of his own blood pooling inside him, the thought of Nnoitra's cock covered in the red substance, plunging in and out of him forced a wanton moan out of his lips.

"Ngh….NNOITRA!"

Irked at the pink haired arrancar's arousal when his intentions were to fuck him into screams of pain and unconsciousness, the quinto fastened his paced and placed a heavy hand flat on the middle of Szayel's back, arching it into an almost impossible angle. His grin widened with the sound of Szayel's spine cracking at the touch.

"Haven't ya learned ta keep quiet yet, ya stupid whore?" - He all but laughed.

He never understood how it was possible that pain excited the weaker man to this extent, how it was possible that he got hard and begged for more when his bones threatened to break and blood trickled down both his thighs. He pushed his hand harder into Szayel's arched back, another bone cracking loudly.

"Where's the fun in staying...ngh... silent when teasing… makes for such a d-delicious night" - the octava managed to say between gasps.

Irate at an unbudging Szayel, Nnoitra relieved the pressure on his back and grabbed his subordinate's wrist, pulling and twisting his arm across his body before placing his weight on the octava's back again, trapping his arm in an odd position in the process. Overjoyed at the rough friction, Nnoitra watched Szayel trembling and whimpering, meeting each one of his thrusts. Another guttural moan reverberated in the room, the quinto watching through a half-lided gaze his blood-smeared member intruding into the abused hole.

Tugging harder at Szayel's arm he shuddered passionately when the weaker man scream in pain. Pushing his limits, he pulled again, harder, this time a cringeworthy popping sound making itself known. Between jagged breaths Nnoitra realized he had dislocated, if not broken, Szayel's shoulder and smirked at the fact, his panting breath becoming louder. Not slowing down his pumping, the quinto laughed triumphantly, gloating in the warmth surrounding his twitching member. The heat pooling in his groin indicating that he wouldn't last much longer, his swollen cock already covered in pre-cum aching for release.

" 'S that...all y-you've...got, Nnoitra-...sama"

A barely conscious Szayel managed to speak up, his body in a limbo of pain and pleasure, blood profusely running down his thighs. He slid his free hand to his own cock, painfully neglected and swollen. The octava had noticed Nnoitra's impending orgasm, and knowing that he wouldn't lift a finger to aid his release, he took matters into his own hands, wrapping his fingers around himself and stroking the hypersensitive length.

"Shut...up...bitch. You fuckin'...whore".

Nnoitra slid his hand from a hip to the back of Szayel's head, leaning forward into the position and forced his subordinate's face into the sheets. Relentlessly thrusting and tightening his grip on Szayel's body he closed his violet eye, not holding back his loud cries of pleasure anymore. With one last powerful thrust and a strangled moan he came deep inside Szayel's broken body, his muscles stiffened, riding out the waves of pleasure with spasmodic, gentle thrusts, still rocking his hips forwards.

"Shit...oh, fuck..." - He mustered as he felt ribbons of cum spill inside his subordinate's abused body. Riding out his orgasm, his grip on the pink haired man tightened, threatening to break the body beneath him.

The octava's masochistic side shined its brightest at that moment. The exhilaration that came with Nnoitra's degrading ministrations, the pain shocking his own twitching arousal alive, his dislocated shoulder and the picture of his superior's monstrous dick covered in a mix blood and cum pulsating inside of his asshole sent him over the edge in extasis. Tightening the grip around the head of his oversensitive cock and swayed by the erratic spasms releasing the hot spurts of liquid inside of him, the octava came in his fisted hand. A muffled scream resembling the stronger espada's name left his lips, his face still buried in the soft bed sheets. Lightheaded and dizzy, Szayel felt his body go numb before limply collapsing with the waves of pleasure, savouring the last of his release, jolts of sensual satisfaction consuming all of his oversensitized body before drifting away in blissful oblivion.

The quinto pulled out of him, his softening member thoroughly coated in a mix of blood and sperm. He paused, disdainfully watching a passed out Szayel prostrated on his bed, and reached for his subordinate's shirt. Careful to not stain his own bed sheets with blood he stood, cleaned himself up with the garment and dropped it on the floor once he was done with it. Quietly, he walked towards his window and reached for a cigarette, lighting it with a cero. He really needed to ask Grimmjow for one of those portable fire devices. Inhaling his own second hand smoke through his nostrils, Nnoitra paused and let the cold breeze comb through his silky hair draped over his lean chest. He was proud to have fucked the octava espada unconscious, but he had still caved and lost his temper, letting the pink haired freak win his stupid little game. Puzzled, his eye drifted to the limp body on the bed, still wondering what did he get out of this treatment.

Realizing the futility of trying to understand a madman like Szayel, he scoffed and searched for his own clothes, cigarette held between his thin lips. Once he had covered himself up, his violet gaze fell over Szayel's semblance, covered in a thin layer of sweat, exerted tears drying over his flushed cheeks, wondering what would be an amusing way to wake him up.

"Yo…"

When the smaller man didn't react, Nnoitra raised his leg and kicked the passed out espada off the bed, making him land on the floor with a quiet thud. The fall brought Szayel back to consciousness, albeit reluctantly. He brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the throbbing headache that had taken over him.

"Get the fuck out" - Nnoitra spat out, disgusted at the sight of Szayel trying to poise himself, sticky and covered in a number of different fluids. His amber eyes met his violet glare once more, before standing up and quickly searching for the remains of his clothes, which Nnoitra promptly threw at him, also stained with blood. He let out a soft chuckle and eyed the blood stained garments, quickly dressing himself as best as he could, considering the shreds of fabric he had left.

Nnoitra flopped onto the bed and rested his arms behind his head, satisfied with his orgasm and hoping to fall asleep as soon as the freak had left his quarters.

"We should do this again sometime" - Szayel said with a tender smile across his face, hiding his malicious intentions behind it while he buttoned his shirt up.

Nnoitra scoffed, almost nauseated at the prospect of having to deal with his subordinate's annoying little games yet again.

"Out. Now."

Szayel was smart enough not to push his luck too much. The only reason that he was still alive after that comment was because he had let Nnoitra defile his body earlier, but if he continued to tantalize the lanky man's patience he knew that Nnoitra would be impaling him with Santa teresa instead of his cock next time. There was no surviving that, and he very much enjoyed being alive.

"Good night, then...Nnoitra-sama" - The octava espada turned on his heels and made an unsuccessful attempt at a dignified exit, clutching his arm tightly close to his body, his superior didn't bother sparing him a second look.

Sighing loudly when the door closed, Nnoitra ran a hand to wipe his face, still exasperated and riled up from their earlier play session. Szayel might have been fun to fuck with, but he sure knew which buttons to push to flare the hate and contempt in Nnoitra's heart. Despite his blissful release, the thoughts of despair still lingered, tantalizing his sanity. He rolled over to his side and pulled the covers up to his neck, hoping to pass out as soon as possible and rid himself of those dreadful thoughts.

Sooooo I know I've been including Nnoitra a lot - I find him to be a very interesting character - but I'll move on to other pairings for a while (not on the next chapter though :S) so, yay! :D Anyway, hope you liked the story! Reviews would be nice ^_^