Boy Gets Reprimanded for his Homoerotic Feelings.
The sunlight drenched, cream-colored room was a magnificent sight. For someone without a hangover.
Starrk groaned, opening his eyes a second time. He looked to the slim wall-matching door to the shared bathroom and then to the entrance of the rest of the lifeless apartment, taking in the multiple items of clothing and recognizing several as his own. One was a tiny black tank top that was definitely too tight to be the bearded man's. Turning his head up to gaze at the alarm clock on the nightstand he sighed, contrast of the deep cherry wood of the headboard and the bedside table against the sun-kissed cream walls stinging his pale eyes. The lime green numbers of the digital clock read "9:22".
He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he and the Sexta had done after Ichigo's party. It was all drunk and promiscuous teenagers up until his "Check Yes Juliet" moment with Byakuya. A small smile rested on his lips as he remembered the soft, pink ones of the night before. He chuckled as the memory of Grimmjow jumping from the boy's window crossed his mind. He had followed and lost his footing turning back to the black-haired man's seductive call of his name. Then he had hit his head on the street, his recollection of the night gone after that.
A sudden movement disturbed the bed.
Starrk smiled to himself, proud that he still had his mojo after 3,059 years. Something poked his thigh.
Turning to look at his lady of the evening, he caught a blur of bright blue hair.
Grimmjow had made himself comfortable, shirtless, against the curve of the Primera's body, laying half-way on top of Starrk with his head safely tucked into the crevice of the other man's shoulder and a right, muscled arm gripping the pectoral opposite it. His legs were romantically tangled with the taller man's, one confident knee pulled up high causing its corresponding thigh to simultaneously separate Starrk's own and touch a more than private part of his body. Overall, it was a much too embarrassing and intimate spooning situation.
The Primera huffed, unable to pry a numb, left arm from underneath the tanned man.
"Grimmjow." His voice was raspy, a result of the onslaught of alcohol he figured he had the night before.
The Sexta breathed hard, warm breath tickling the chestnut hairs on the back of Starrk's neck and sending chills down his spine. As his cheeks turned a rosy color, the taller man jerked his head back, slamming his noggin into Grimmjow's own. It was an effective mistake.
"Goddamnit." He closed his eyes as a pained look crossed his face. The man behind him only snuggled in closer, making the fact that it was the morning just that much more portent. "JESUS CHRIST, GRIMMJOW."
He flailed, succeeding in releasing his arm, waking the bigger spoon, and rolling on top of him.
"OW!" The outburst was more lusty than pained, ringing directly in the Primera's ear. "You're so heavy!"
Grimmjow smacked the man's chest in an effort to disperse the weight currently pressing on his erection, simply causing him to, instead, lean forward and curl upwards, putting more weight on his pelvis. Starrk shouted, voicing his disproval at the assault on both his ribcage and butt.
"Get your fat ass of my dick!" The Sexta wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist, rolling the pair so that the Primera was in contact with the bed. An unsuspecting Starrk bucked his hips once he did hit the mattress, throwing his weight back unto the blue-haired man's weak spot. A sensual groan fell from his lips straight into the other man's ear as his biceps contracted and squeezed the air out of the Primera.
"MMMM-MM-FMM." Starrk growled, face pressed into the mattress by Grimmjow's head of unruly hair. The duo stilled, the chestnut-haired man throwing his head to the side. Both men were breathing hard, one still unto the other's neck. Starrk repeated himself, "What…the fuck."
"I-it's the morning, okay?" Grimmjow rolled unto his back, both sighing at the relief of pressure. "Damn."
"Asshole." Starrk pushed himself from the mattress, smoothing out his boxers to cover more of his thigh as he walked to the kitchen. "We gotta go back today."
Grimmjow sat upright in the bed, frowning.
"To Las Noches?"
"Aizen wants to know everything so far." Starrk began pulling items from the cabinets, including a blender. Under his breath he said, "Bingo."
The Sexta huffed, throwing himself back unto the bed. In the kitchen, the other started to place unappetizing items into the appliance, grimacing as he turned it on. A few boisterous moments later, he sighed. After pouring the red liquid into two glasses, he trudged back to the bedroom.
"Seriously?!" Starrk jumped back into the hallway, turning to shield his burning eyes from Grimmjow's exposed manhood. "You couldn't go to the bathroom?!"
"You should have knocked!" The blue-haired man covered himself with a pillow, cheeks turning a hellish red.
"The door was open! T-that's my room!" He sighed, walking back into the room and handing the younger man a glass. "Cheers."
At the sound of glass touching glass, both threw their heads back and held their noses, swallowing all the shiny square containers had to offer. They finished, coughing.
"Whoa!" Grimmjow blinked repeatedly, leaning back while extending his arm toward Starrk. "Forgot the remedy is worse than the hangover."
"True that." Grabbing the sleek glasses, he walked back to the kitchen.
***
"YEEK, YEEK, WOOP, WOOP! Where ya been, ya, ancient faggot?" Nnoitra smiled, inconveniently stepping into the path of the two Espada. "You, too, Starrk."
Hallibel was accompanying him, her short frame remaining against the wall of the outdoor hallway. Unable to smile outwardly, she remained silent, tiny glint shining in her eye.
"Fuck you, freak." The Sexta grinned, pushing his fist into the Quinta's gut none too gently.
"Did you execute the mission properly?" The woman's question was directed at the Primera.
"Of course we did," Grimmjow butted in, resting against the balcony. "It was fuckin' babysitting."
The Sexta ignored her glare, focusing his attention upon Nnoitra. He didn't make a very good girlfriend.
"Did you kids miss us?" Grimmjow pointed to Starrk and then himself. "Mommy and Daddy weren't here to keep your asses in line."
"No," The Quinta leaned against the wall opposite the desert, folding his arms. "But it was a whole hell of a lot quieter around here."
Starrk began to walk in his original direction again. Hallibel, next in the hierarchy, followed him, walking gladly by his left side. Nnoitra followed after them, mischievous grin in place as his eyes connected with the Sexta's. Grimmjow dittoed his expression, focused upon the pair in front of them. Dropping his stare, the Quinta stood upright, walking at his full height to gain better visual access to the faces leading him down the hall. The blue-haired man frowned, sighing inaudibly at the sideways and lustful glances the woman was throwing to her right. He understood that she hadn't seen the Primera in a week, but he was praying that he either hadn't noticed or wouldn't be able to read the looks she was giving him. After nearly fourteen glances, he remembered that it took himself 43 years to interpret the teal eyes accurately. Grimmjow relaxed, redirecting his attention to Starrk's tousled hair and missing the hold the Quinta's eyes had on his own.
Nnoitra looked in the opposite direction, mentally scratching the bitch in front of him eyes out. She may have had the hots for the Primera but she had captured the eye of the Sexta in the mean time. The tall man sighed. The last time the blue-haired man had been in a "relationship" with another humanoid, the one that had been the there to cool the short fuse of the ever enraged Sexta and to hide the corpse of a rotting boyfriend deemed skanky faggot was his patient best friend, the Quinta. How many buddies would put up with that?
The four espada reached the door to the throne room, all huffing in agreement at the presence looming behind the doors. Starrk lead his subordinates into the room, the squad forming a single file as they entered. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, irritated at his position in the line.
"Welcome home," Aizen was sprawled about his throne, lying nearly upside down in the enormous white chair. The Tres and the Quinta sonido-ed to their placed among the other Espada. "My children."
Starrk frowned. He hated spending his time in the throne room; there weren't any cushions to lounge around on.
"Tell us about The World of The Living." Yammy was fully interested in the tale the duo had to tell.
"What have they come up with in this century?" Ulquiorra sighed. He showed his interest in things by sounding bored.
"Did you find any interesting facts about the boy?" Szayel had a smirk on his face and a sparkle on the frame of his glasses.
The Sexta grimaced. His mind had forgotten the repulsively slippery tone of the Octava's voice. Going to The World of The Living had been a nice vacation for himself and the Primera. He masked his disapproval, looking towards Aizen.
"Do tell us of The World of The Living." He sat upright, focusing his attention on Starrk.
The Primera opened his eyes without lifting his head and began to recite him and Grimmjow's week in The World of The Living.
The Sexta struggled to stop himself from giggling. Three quarters through the story, he began feeling the urge to burst the taller man's bubble and tell the mystery of the night before. Starrk had asked him many times throughout the course of the duo's showering, dressing, and breakfast what had happened after the raven-haired vixen had called for him. Grimmjow was never planning on telling him.
"And now we're here." Starrk put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
"Well, what happened this morning?" Nnoitra was too nosy. As was Aizen based the expression plastered on his face and the space, or rather, lack thereof, between the edge of his throne and his butt.
"Nothing." Grimmjow's blue orbs went wide. It must have been the first time in the blue-haired man's afterlife he was exposed to the top half of those pale irises.
"Quite the honest reaction you gave just now," Aizen was smiling behind his hand. "Both of you, I mean."
Starrk wiggled his nose and Grimmjow's cheeks took on a rosy hue. The Quinta grinned sadistically. He had a natural talent for making the awkward situations he sensed with his intuition for them, eight times as terrible as they would be without his presence.
"What happened?" Nnoitra urged the pair on after a moment.
"We…got dressed."
"And…" Aizen leaned even further in his throne.
"We….ate breakfast."
"And…"
"We took show--"
"We got drunk and woke up spooning, Jesus!" Grimmjow threw his hands in the air, exasperated. He could feel the Quinta's reiatsu pulsating against his shoulders, irritating him infinitely. Everyone's eyebrows went up at his outburst. Nnoitra giggled.
"…unexpected." Aizen grinned wider. "Tell me of Ichigo's friends."
"There's Renji," Aizen's face remained unreadable with his seductive grin still in place. "Orihime, Uryuu, and Asado."
"Don't forget Byakuya." The Primera turned his attention to the man on his left, returning the blue orb's gaze.
"Ah." The self-proclaimed lord leaned back in his grand chair. "Well, you're all dismissed. You should return to The World of The Living before sundown."
With that, the throne room emptied.
***
"So did you get any pussy?" Asking blatantly, Nnoitra threw his long body on the bed. Grimmjow frowned. He had wanted to enjoy the comfort of his enormous mattress for an afternoon nap. The black bed of the tiny apartment he and the Primera shared had silk sheets and no comforter. It was about a fourth the size of the Sexta's ridiculous bed in Aizen's castle and smelled like pine trees. He turned to face the raven-haired man.
"There wasn't anything else to do." He lay on his back and looked toward the ceiling. "Starrk was too busy making goo-goo eye--"
The Quinta turned his head to look at the blue-haired man. Said man didn't return his curious gaze.
"No, no, no," Nnoitra propped himself on his elbow, facing the Sexta. "Don't fuckin' start stories and not finish them."
"At pretty ladies." His eyes ventured toward the Quinta.
"That is a goddamn lie." Nnoitra continued in a falsetto. "Spill, girlfriend!"
"Queer." Grimmjow pushed his arm into the man's ribs. The Quinta frowned, disappointed in the blue-haired man's ignorance.
"Who's Byakuya?"
"Sexy little piece 'f cuddy." He grinned.
"Real good pussy?"
"More like ass."
The Quinta took a moment for understanding. Grimmjow lowered his head, rotating onto his side, curling into himself, and facing the duo's feet.
"Wait…what?"
"Byakuya's a man."
Nnoitra frowned harder, shifting to rest his head on his long forearm and turning on his side. They stayed in silence for forty seconds, lavender eye barreling into the sky blue hair.
"What?!" Grimmjow barked.
"Where does that leave you and Hallibel?" His voice had grown sullen, concern swirling in his eye.
"What do you mean me and Hallibel?" He looked back up at the man. Nnoitra returned his gaze, shifting to lie on his back. He closed his eye, reaching up to take off his eye patch. "Ew, don't do that, it's fuckin' nasty."
The raven-haired man sighed, grinning as Grimmjow frowned. The right side of the double doors opened, revealing a tall bearded man with tousled chestnut locks. Immediately the Quinta sat up on his elbows, grin growing impossibly wide.
"Tell us about Byakuya, will ya, Starrk?" The Primera winced at the intimate scene before him. Grimmjow had taken off his socks and sandals and was resting his head next to the tall man's chest. Said man didn't have his eye patch, an item he was extremely rarely seen without.
"Put your eye patch back on." Starrk leaned against the door, closing it as he did. He pointed to the part of his own face corresponding with Nnoitra's hollow mask. "It's ugly."
The grin immediately fell from the pale face.
"Tell him, Starrk." The Sexta smiled.
"He's just some guy I have photography with."
"That you were mackin' on." Grimmjow quickly added. For the second time that day, the tanned man's eyes opened fully, a pink hue resting on his high cheekbones.
"Ohoho!" The raven-haired man smiled again. "How many years it's been?"
The man across the room didn't answer, simply resting against the doors, staring down the Sexta, mind running through the latest few centuries of his life. He had been in the afterlife the longest out of all the inhabitants of the castle and had gained the unwanted ability of vaporizing anyone within 100 yards of him long ago. He cleared his throat, realizing he was thinking about sex while looking straight at Grimmjow.
"Did you just kiss him?" Nnoitra was still smiling.
"Of course," Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair. "You know what Aizen would do to him if he found out?"
Starrk looked toward the ceiling, asking the questionable deity in his life why he was stuck with these two bastards.
"Tell him to stay away from the man." All the three turned to the Sexta's washroom entrance. Aizen was standing in the doorway, right hand resting on the doorframe and left on his corresponding hip. "Trust me, Starrk; you don't want to get involved with that siren. You can have any one you want in The World of The Living, but him."
Starrk pouted, reminded of his longing for the smooth cheek and purple orbs of the pale man.
**********
If you didn't catch that: Hallibel likes Starrk. Nnoitra thinks Grimmjow likes Starrk.
I was thinking about Robert Verdi (my hero) while writing about Aizen.
Oh and musical references, ftw.