A/N: Early lemon! O.o
Uhh. Smack me if I'm making them out of character. It's not easy.
Decision
2
"I don't like her."
Lilinette's decision-making skills were quick. She knew herself and her tastes very well. Stark knew that she knew herself better than most.
"Oh yeah? Why?" He scratched the back of his head absently.
"She's weak, dummy." She rolled her eyes. "What do you see in her, anyway?"
"Obviously it's not the same thing you see. What difference does it make? Are you trying to change my mind?" Stark tilted his head.
"Nah." Lilinette stretched, her arms making lazy arcs above her head. "I just thought you should know." She tilted her head, the shading of her mask seeming strangely jaunty.
"Thanks." Stark let the word leave his mouth slowly.
--
Her eyes burned into the wall, cold and white. Everything was so clinical here. Stark pushed his hair out of his face, sighing.
"You have to have a reason for seeking me out," He said after a long pause.
"I—I need to get stronger." She bowed her head, shaking it. She was embarrassed. Stark had seen this before.
"I can't help you. What makes you think that I could?" He demanded. His voice was cold—what she needed. She frowned.
"I guess it makes no difference anyway." She rose. "I'll be gone before winter." She turned to leave.
"How do you figure?"
Neliel turned, and the smile spreading across her face was genuine. "There are some things that I just know."
--
The next night he spent in her quarters. He imagined Lilinette pacing his room with childlike ferocity and impatience. He'd left a note—a luxury she was rarely granted. A quick scope of the grounds told him she was in the presence of another fraccion.
"Neliel." He stared at the half-naked woman. She kneeled upon her bed, applying a mysterious salve to several wounds upon her back. She didn't look up.
"Yes?"
"Who did you fight today?"
She was quick to lie in her bed and pull the covers up to her chin. "I can't discuss this now. I need my sleep."
"All I want is a name."
"Don't concern yourself with it. Either join me, or leave." She glared across the room at him.
"I'll do nothing until you answer me."
She sat up sharply, eyes narrow. "I fought no one today. That is the truth." She scowled. "You need know nothing more."
Stark was slow to join her in bed, pondering her words. If she hadn't fought—had she been attacked? No…those marks on her back were from nails. It was apparent to him what the cause was, suddenly.
"I don't want to know." He finally said. She rested her face in his chest, below the fragments.
"I'm glad you understand." She mumbled, the hint of sarcasm apparent in her tone. Stark caught a flicker in her eyes, and distinguished it as pain.
"Don't need to know…" He muttered sleepily. She smiled and drew him closer.
--
She pushed back on his blade. It was too easy to shove him into the sand.
"Dammit." He swore to himself. She frowned from above him.
"You're not trying hard enough," She said.
"Fuck you, Neliel."
"Nnoitra…" She turned her head away, eyes seeking the distant desert. The next sound she heard was their blades clashing. "Foolish man." She muttered. "Attacking a woman when her back is turned. It's the attack of a coward." She thrust the blunt end of her blade into his stomach.
He rolled over on the sand, coughing up blood.
"Bitch…"
"I refuse to draw my blade against an opponent such as you." She lifted her chin, her eyes cast even farther down at him.
"Ya weren't lookin' down at me like this last night." Nnoitra mumbled. Neliel delivered a swift kick to the Octava's face.
"Be silent about matters such as those. I would hate for you to blemish your reputation." She was gone before he could pull himself into a sitting position.
--
"Pesche? Dondo Chakka?" Neliel called out tentatively. Where were they? Two hours had passed since lunch, and they had been missing long before then.
True concern filled her body. She felt sick, apprehensive. Knowing this was not like Pesche and Dondo Chakka only made things worse for the Tricero.
"P-Pesche? Dondo…Chakka?" She twisted the fabric at her belly nervously. Sweat beaded on her face. They weren't in her quarters or theirs—and she had checked all of the kitchens and dining areas at least three times.
Sh—who was behind this? No—they must have gone off without telling her. She would have to remind them.
After all, those two could be so flighty.
--
Stark sat alone at a table in a dining area. Nnoitra stumbled in, his eye surrounded in purple, inflamed flesh.
"Another failed conquest?" Stark made a lame attempt at conversation. Of course, Nnoitra bit.
"Fuck no." He smirked, adjusting his eye patch. "Y'know Neliel…" He made a lewd gesture and chuckled.
"Oh." Stark shrugged. "She doesn't seem that great to me." He shook his head and wrinkled his nose.
"Pffft." Nnoitra stuck out his tongue slightly. "She's fucking great if you can get past all of her morality and shit. Best part is she's a masochist, so if ya get a little rough, that only gets her more excited."
"I really don't know why you're telling me this." Stark sighed.
"Fuck, you're probably jealous." Nnoitra laughed. "Hell, I would be too. I mean, if I weren't nailing her."
"I don't understand what she sees in you." Stark shook his head. "But I guess I don't understand what she sees in me, either." With that, he stood and left. Nnoitra sat for a long moment, jaw agape. Was Stark really implying that he had nailed Neliel, too? What the fuck?
--
"Stark!" Neliel's eyes grew wide. "I wasn't expecting you!" She blinked, trying to regain her composure.
"Yeah, I wasn't expecting to come to you." He shrugged.
"Hmm. What'd you do, tell Nnoitra about us?" She joked.
"Actually…"
--
"Fuck you Neliel! Fuck you!"
"Screaming obscenities will get you nowhere." She sighed.
"I'll fucking kill you!" Nnoitra cried.
She parried his attacks and punched him in the face.
"What is this really about, Nnoitra?" Neliel demanded.
"You whore! You fucking whore!" He cried. She could nearly smell fresh saline building in unused tear ducts. Despair…it would always be Nnoitra's aspect of death. Neliel kept it a secret that she knew.
"I didn't mean for you to find out. I never meant for this to happen." Her tone was apologetic, yet clinical. Nnoitra choked on a sob and rushed forward. "I really didn't, Nnoitra." She mumbled as she shoved him away.
"You're a whore! That's all you are!" He glared at her.
Neliel shut her eyes and bowed her head. "Yes," She said. Then, she turned and walked away, leaving Nnoitra to wallow in despair. She stopped once to look back. He was slumped over, face buried in his arms.
"I'm sorry, Nnoitra." She whispered.
--
"…"
"You should have left it alone. Why would you need to prove anything to him? You're the fool."
Stark wondered how she could stay so calm when she knew how everything was going to end. She saw the future from the actions of now. She connected all of the tangled loose ends and followed them. And still, she could never change her ways to affect the outcome.
"His reaction will be terrible—Stark, you're the last one who would spread this around!"
"I guess I was a little too proud." He shrugged nonchalantly. In the next instant, slender, gloved fingers curled around his shoulders and he was being shaken. He flailed helplessly against her wrath.
"Idiot!" She cried. "Fool! Speaking to Nnoitra of my sex life! You know this will just kill him. And—in the long run—me." She sniffed. "Of course, none of this affects you. Don't worry. Your position as Primera is guaranteed for life."
"I'm not worried about that." He scoffed and withdrew from her.
"Oh." She instantly dropped all character.
"I should go."
"Please, stay." Neliel gripped his collar, eyes pleading with his.
--
"Neliel, you fucking whore." Nnoitra slapped her across the face.
"Don't leave a mark!" She begged.
"Fuck you, whore." He wrapped his fingers around her throat. She dug her nails into his hand, causing his grip to loosen.
"Nnoitra, I can't—I can't do this." She sat up as she pushed him away.
"I don't give a shit." He pulled her by the hair, forcing his mouth against hers. A jolt of—pleasure, Neliel guessed it to be—raced through her body at the unusual contact. Her hands automatically buried themselves in his hair, keeping his face close. She whimpered when he pulled away, eyes wide, pleading.
Nnoitra grinned, licking his teeth lasciviously. "Still can't do this?" He demanded.
Neliel forced him down onto the bed. She pulled his arms up over his head, her eyes gleaming. She moved over his body, devoid of clothing, preparing herself. She reached down, finding his manhood easily.
"Shit—Ne—"
"Quiet." She silenced him easily. Within the next few seconds, she had guided him into her. He gasped; then grinned. It was such a great feeling, to be within Neliel's warm sheath.
She moved over him, her hips thrusting forward and back quickly. He stopped her hips, thrusting himself into her at a faster pace.
The look of bliss on her face was far from innocent, and Nnoitra reveled in this side of Neliel. The more pain he caused her, the louder her moans and gasps became. The more pain he caused, the more pleasure they both received.
--
She was screaming. She was screaming as loud as her lungs would allow. Tears streamed down her face. She had never expected to react this way. She had never been this hysterical before!
"He's dead! Oh, oh, oh, he's dead!" She panted, trying desperately to ebb the flow of tears. She was alone and her eyes were burning, her heart nearly finished beating. How could she go on?
"Nn—Nnoitra!" she pulled at her hair, beat at her sides. She couldn't even understand why she was so distraught. That scary man hadn't meant a thing to her!
There was another persona—and she was too young to understand who it was. She meant something to Nel—but what? And this man meant something to that woman. So Nel screamed and cried and beat herself.
--
He ran his fingers gently over her skull mask. She jolted, in her head. Nnoitra liked to jab his fingers into the eye sockets and pull her.
Stark didn't notice her minor lapse from reality. He only noticed the look in her eyes. They were glazed, and frightened. He kissed her, breaking her from her memory.
"Do you love him?" Stark asked quietly.
"No." Neliel frowned. "Why--?"
"You're thinking about him now." Stark pressed his finger lightly on her lips to pause her speaking. "I don't care." He smirked. "I don't love you, anyway. And there's no way you love me."
"Why do you say that? How—how do you know?"
"If you don't love Nnoitra, how can you love me?"
"We don't love." Neliel sighed. "We don't even love Aizen-sama. We are wretches, aren't we? Are you trying to tell me that we are like beasts? Unfeeling?"
"Not at all." Stark rubbed his forehead. "You're not getting it. How can we love if we were born out of hate, Neliel? You're a fool for thinking you could love."
"I never thought I could." She admitted. "I didn't even want to try." She smiled. "I don't want to feel so human." She turned her eyes away from him. "And Nnoitra brings me back into the reality that is. I am hollow, beneath my humanoid form. He is the beastly presence of a hollow in arrancar form. With him…I am what I was born from—hate."
"And what do I do?"
"You're a better lover than he is." Neliel smiled. "Sans love, of course. But also, you don't care. You have to squint—but he does."
A/N: Weeelll, I wonder how this went over. I love all of my readers! You make my jello jiggle. That sounds.....really weird.