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The Coronation of Self: Chapter Seven

By: Ryoko (Lewd Concubine)

Szayel awoke covered in sweat and absolutely certain he was losing his mind. Or, at the very least, that Nnoitra was a terrible influence on him. He cast his gaze across the darkened laboratory at the man's sleeping form and prayed he wouldn't wake up. Szayel took deep, calming breaths and attempted to still his thundering heart.

He wiped a hand across his face and tried to push the dream out of his mind with little success. Unlike most dreams, which faded with time, this one was only becoming clearer. The whole thing was unusual and part of the reason for the slight tremor in his limbs.

The vast majority of the reason slept on, blissfully unaware. Szayel glared at the man before he sighed and sat up to redirect his energy. Szayel didn't think he could take Nnoitra's scrutiny or his often callous yet sometimes perceptive remarks right now. Not after that.

Szayel's mind drifted back to the dream despite himself. He gritted his teeth and shook his head to clear it. All in vain. The intensity of the dream stole any desire for sleep from him if such were even possible at this point. No, he was definitely awake.

Szayel glanced at the clock almost belatedly. Three forty a.m. Perfect. Just perfect. Szayel stilled his shaking hands by placing them palm down on his thighs. The dream came into sharper focus. He recalled with certainty Nnoitra's ridiculous height and his even more absurd outfit. Szayel had never seen a hood that huge or spoon-like. It was something not even the most avant garde performer would consider. Well, maybe Lady Gaga. But surely nobody like Nnoitra. The thought of how absolutely ridiculous the man looked in it made Szayel stifle a laugh. However, this quickly soured. It was so much easier to concentrate on something like that instead of considering what exactly the two did in his dream and the implications of such for their current situation.

While it was true that Szayel found Nnoitra physically attractive, he had no intention of sleeping with the man despite whatever absurdities his subconscious was trying to force on him. In spite of his firm conviction, Szayel's body didn't seem to agree.

Szayel gazed down at his pants and grimaced.

"Wonderful." He couldn't help the whispered word or the exasperated sigh that followed.

He would need to take care of this, and soon. But first Szayel found himself drifting over to where Nnoitra slept. He felt like a marionette pulled along by invisible strings, yet he couldn't help himself. Once again, darkness shrouded one of the man's eyes except this time Szayel had the dream to think of instead of mere deja vu. His eyepatch was made of shadows here, but Szayel keenly felt the resemblance all the way down to his groin.

He stared for some time.

Temporary insanity. It had to be. That would explain this and his next action.

Szayel sat down and affixed the prototype on his head. He kept the sound turned down and the screen small.

Szayel distrusted his own senses, but he had full faith in his science. This would show him the truth for his machine did not display dreams, only memories. It didn't work like that to begin with, but Szayel fixed that bug long ago and tested it enough that it was no longer even a possibility.

Szayel waited with a mix of trepidation and eager anticipation as his thoughts drifted toward the dream once more. At first, nothing happened. But then, the screen flickered to reality shattering life.

There was Nnoitra in that ridiculous outfit.

"'Ey, Granz. Long time no see."

"What do you want, Jiruga?" he heard himself answer after a moment. "I'm quite busy, as you can see."

The view turned to an all too familiar lab table where a specimen was beautifully laid out with its ribs pulled back to expose its still beating heart, then returned to Nnoitra.

The man offered his blood chilling grin and Szayel's stomach dropped even as his cheeks warmed. He knew what would come next.

Nnoitra reached into the specimen's chest cavity and tore its heart out. The dream Szayel uttered a word of protest but it was too late. Nnoitra brought the still sluggishly pumping organ to his mouth and devoured it. His obscenely long teeth tore into the muscle. Red dripped down his chin and all over his pristine white clothes.

Szayel had never been more turned on in his life, and it seemed his dream self agreed. Szayel saw his arm shoot out and grab Nnoitra's clothes to drag his face down to eye level. The view zoomed in until the screen filled with those red stained lips and then Szayel heard himself whisper.

"You are quite the freak."

The expected reply of "look who's talking" came, but not from the screen.

Szayel jumped a foot in the air, the prototype sailing off his head to clatter on the nearby counter.

Nnoitra stood right behind him, a wry grin stretching his thin lips.

"How did you-" Szayel stopped, pursed his lips.

"I've had that one too. Remember what happens next? The sex?" Nnoitra was strangely still despite the topic matter. He didn't leer, but instead appeared utterly calm and almost resigned.

Szayel had to get out of there. It was all much too strange and he couldn't wrap his mind around any of it because it simply wasn't possible. There was a reasonable explanation for everything. He just had yet to find it. But he would. Soon. For right now, though, he needed to get away from this man and the poisonous notions he'd implanted into his brain.

Szayel stood and made his way past the specter standing so close to him. For once, he didn't say anything. He was almost to the door when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Octava Espada."

Szayel stiffened for more than one reason. The name was a familiar stone in his stomach, but one he couldn't quite comprehend. It was all there just beyond his reach.

"Octava…" he said the word, tasted it, and felt its familiarity, how right it was.

"I tried to fuckin'-to tell you…" The hand on Szayel's shoulder tightened, but he found he didn't mind nearly as much as a few moments ago. Not even when the man's other hand joined the first. It was too unexpected. Too gentle for him and especially for Nnoitra.

Slowly, the ice left his muscles. Slowly, he relaxed.

"Well?"

An ordinary man might have remembered the physical violation and held it against his victimizer. Szayel Aporro had never been so mundane as that, at least not in this case.

Nothing about this felt wrong. Instead, his world finally seemed to be complete. It was as if he'd always been lacking something and had become aware of it only now that he didn't want for it anymore.

"You're a terrible person," Szayel said.

Nnoitra turned him without resistance and they met each other's eyes.

"So are you. Been remembering more the longer we're together. Much more." He leaned in and ran his tongue over Szayel's lips and then kissed him.

Later he might question everything. For now, Szayel Aporro Granz, theater superstar and consummate scientist, was certain about it all.

Their kiss was deceptively gentle, but only for a moment. Soon, it turned more passionate and Nnoitra propelled him backwards until he hit the wall. Those lips worked their way down his neck to his collarbone where Nnoitra bit him. It was much harder than anything even Aaron would have done. Warmth ran down Szayel's chest. He remembered Nnoitra's red lips from his dream and gasped.

Nnoitra grabbed Szayel's shirt and pulled until it tore right down the middle before he leaned in. Szayel fisted the man's hair in his hand and held him there while he ravaged Szayel's chest with that dangerous mouth. He tore off Nnoitra's shirt with the other. This exposed pale skin to both his eyes and nails. Nnoitra's torso was soon criss-crossed with red lines where Szayel scratched him. The man hissed out a breath and crushed Szayel against the wall. He lifted Szayel's leg and held it while he ground their bodies together.

Szayel shuddered and gasped at this and then when the man jerked his pants and underwear off in the same brusque manner. Nnoitra palmed Szayel's erection, causing him to moan. This was swift, fleeting. The next second Nnoitra was shoving two fingers inside without preamble.

It made Szayel's back arch off the wall in pain and pleasure. His body pressed into Nnoitra's but then his eyes snapped back to sharp clarity.

"No," he said, and pushed Nnoitra backwards. The man's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest, but then Szayel was on him. He brought their mouths together in a fierce, cutting kiss as he continued to propel Nnoitra backwards. Nnoitra's legs hit the laboratory table behind him and he toppled back onto it. There was a resounding clang where he hit his head. Nnoitra cursed and reached for him, but Szayel slid out of reach before coming back to undo the man's belt and yank off his pants.

Szayel smiled at the lack of underwear before he climbed on top of him. Nnoitra's legs dangled off the edge of the table but not his pelvis. In his frenzy, Szayel abandoned all care for both himself and his partner. He spit in his hand and coated Nnoitra's cock with it, but this was all he did before sinking down onto him.

Both he and Nnoitra groaned as his cock filled him. Szayel remembered its size from before, but somehow it felt so much bigger now. This was perhaps because he was far from relaxed. Szayel's body, his every movement, was taut with aggression. He relished the pain and his complete dominion over Nnoitra. Szayel pressed a firm hand on the man's ruined chest as he began to ride him. His hips rolled with a sinuous grace and he moaned or gasped each time, spurred on by Nnoitra's curses and grunts.

They finished and were at each other again as soon as biology allowed. Their coupling was rough and animallike each time. All of Szayel's pent up anger exploded in red and white over Nnoitra's body. When it was finally over, utter exhaustion took them and they slept where they landed.

.

Szayel dreamed of sand and endless hunger. He awoke to his body's various cries for attention. He was bloodied, bruised, and sore. Above all else, he was dirty. His ruined outfit lay in tatters on the floor. And, of course, his bedmate was none other than one Nnoitra Jiruga.

It was already shaping up to be one of the worst days of his life.

Then Szayel looked down and discovered Nnoitra's arm wrapped around his torso.

Definitely the worst.

Szayel glimpsed a perfect bite mark on the man's forearm. His lips twitched. At least he had given as good as he got, if not better. A little souvenir to remember him by, because this was not happening again. Ever.

Despite whatever Szayel might have felt, he knew Nnoitra Jiruga was a walking, talking mistake. Szayel didn't make mistakes except, apparently, in this case.

Nnoitra clearly brought out the worst in him.

Szayel shook that thought off as he began to extricate himself from under the man's lanky arm. Nnoitra let out a muffled sigh but did not otherwise stir. Once Szayel broke free, he sprayed an aerosol sedative in Nnoitra's face. He then retrieved everything of value he would need for the near future, which really didn't amount to more than a few hard drives and his prototype, and put in the codes to send his laboratory into protection mode. Szayel's screens, panels, and myriad important equipment slid away into the walls.

He took a shower and packed a few outfits with what time he had left. Nnoitra would wake soon and when he did, Szayel would be gone. His work was done here and he had already extracted what payback he could from Nnoitra's body. There was no reason to continue this charade of companionship. Szayel's mouth curled down at the thought. No, he didn't need to be around for the final act. Szayel's plan was foolproof, after all. Even an idiot like Nnoitra couldn't possibly fail.

Perhaps it was a form of Stockholm syndrome that prompted the last look back at his sometime tormentor and always frustration. Nnoitra seemed so innocent while asleep. Szayel could almost admit that he enjoyed his company sometimes. Not that it mattered now.

The moment passed and Szayel left.

.

Aaron was very happy to "welcome him home," as he put it, and was completely undeterred when Szayel informed him of the transience of the situation. They soon settled into their routine of attempted sexual coercion.

Later, Aaron just about had him undressed when the doorbell rang. Szayel's bare chest rose and fell with a deep sigh before he lay back against Aaron's monstrous mound of pillows.

"Just be a sec," Aaron said, as he zipped up his fly and then donned a shirt. "Don't go anywhere, now."

As if Szayel could undo the restraints binding him to the bed.

"Far be it for me to escape your clutches," he said, but Aaron was already gone.

Szayel settled in to wait. His body already felt cooler and his mind clearer. Once more, he wished Aaron could separate sex from the need to possess him, though right now he was content to settle for his old yet immaculate mini-lab that Aaron had kept intact. He really shouldn't have been surprised that Aaron had done so. Their once-shared apartment was now an anachronism thanks to the man. The implied attachment usually disturbed him. However, In this case, it proved handy.

Aaron came back before Szayel could pursue the train of thought any further.

"Well?" Szayel lifted one cuffed wrist and held his palm out.

Aaron gave a shrug.

"No one there." He broke out into his trademark, crooked grin. "Now, about that cockring..."

Szayel's skin tingled at the thought.

.

Much later, Szayel left the sleeping Aaron to check on Nnoitra's progress. The display coming in from the camera he had affixed to the man's bag disturbed him. Everything should have been over with by now. Instead, Szayel saw several pairs of feet moving around. Even worse, there was an all too familiar body lying on the ground.

Szayel gritted his teeth as an unwarranted sense of anxiety settled firm in his mind. It was over. He should have been elated. Instead, his chest felt constricted. Szayel cursed to himself as he gathered what things he would need. He made his way out soon after.

Szayel never looked back.

.

He had truly outdone himself this time. All of the pertinent members of the Caravaggio family were dead. The poison decimated their underlings as well. They were unconscious from it and thus useless in combat.

Szayel stepped over their bodies and deeper into the palatial labyrinth. All was quiet thanks to him. Yet even though Szayel knew this, he couldn't help the shiver that passed down his spine. The air seemed heavier the further he crept into the place and he swore he could sense someone watching him. Ridiculous, as well his rational mind knew, but still...

He eventually came to an ornate wooden door with a dozen bodies slumped in front of it. Szayel maneuvered over and around them and then paused catch his breath. He could hear heavy thuds accompanied by occasional groans coming from within.

Szayel's hand stilled on the wood. He choked down more air and pushed.

The sight met his eyes was even worse than he imagined. A blue-haired man held Nnoitra by his collar while he beat him. Blood sprayed with every hit.

Szayel collapsed to his knees from both this and the sudden density of the air. Something inside of him snapped. He saw white for a moment and then it all came back to him with an awful clarity.

"Stop," he said, when he finally had the breath. "STOP."

Grimmjow froze and Szayel Aporro Granz, the former Octava Espada, remembered everything.

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Short but pivotal chapter! I am going through some things IRL and am just happy to get anything out right now. Still, this will probably face revision at some point because I hate it. A lot.

Important: This chapter concludes part one of the story! The good news is that I have the next 130k+ words written so there will be weekly updates from now on for the...two or so people still reading this. The bad news is that I wrote it as one-half of a tag-team so there will be POV switching. I know, I know... I revised the next chapter down to just Szayel's POV. It is entirely possible for me to do this for the whole thing. However, I consulted with Maya (Emochromatic) and she and I agreed that much of the feeling/meaning was lost when I took out Nnoitra's POV. I am open to discussion. Let me know if you feel strongly one way or another about the issue. I aim to please and if pressed would likely revise the whole thing and publish the original as a separate fic for those interested.

The other thing you should know is that the POV will eventually switch back to just Szayel's when I run out of material. The unfortunate truth about RP partnerships is that they never last no matter how much you want them to. SZP and I wrote some of the following in 2008, but completed the majority in about one month in 2011 (see how much more productive I am in RP than in fic, yes). SZP and I will always have that golden summer. Now, I forge forward alone. I always intended to have a Part II to Coronation. It just so happened that we already had the perfect one written. To be quite honest, this is the reason my work on Coronation dragged and then stopped for a time. It's fitting that this should be what really resurrects it. So then everything comes full circle and all will eventually be laid to rest.

This and the rest of my body of work is dedicated to those hardcore Nnoitra/Szayel shippers who just won't quit and whose work has provided me with much happiness over the years. Chin up, my lovelies. I only hope you find some small measure of the boundless joy you have given me here.

With all my love,

Ryoko