Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Ulquiorra's Small Victory ❯ One-Shot

Ulquiorra’s Small Victory

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach; Kubo Tite invented the Bleach world, and for some reason, I don’t think he’d like this story. * shrugs *

Warnings: Explicit male/male consenting sex (Aizen/Ulquiorra) and male/male non-consenting sex (Aizen/Ishida). ANGST. Spoilers for Arrancar arc.

Description: This short piece was written because I’m a neurotic whose mind could NOT let go of a couple drabbles written by the talented Miss Ayachan, so I had to continue them with my own. You can find the original drabbles here:

Aizen/Ulquiorra + frustration

http://www.livejournal.com/community/angstbishies/19747.html #cutid1

Ulquiorra/Ishida + frown

http://www.livejournal.com/community/angstbishies/16100.html#cutid 1

I’ve never liked blatant rape/torture fics, but I will admit to having enjoyed Aizen’s creepy dominance in Miss Ayachan’s drabbles. Having myself written the eroticized helplessness of poor Ishida-kun before (my first Bleach fic "Your Enemy’s Name"), I also rather liked the tied up and squirming Quincy boy of the second drabble, but I got a little panicky when Ishida was raped. Then the fact that his situation was so dire made me worry at night…. Instead of begging Miss Ayachan to indulge my neurosis and write an escape for him, I took the liberty of thinking up my own, and then I thought--why not write it down? * speaks in hushed campfire scary story voice * Gather around and let me tell you what happened to our dear Quincy after the evil Aizen had his way with him….

Since both Miss Ayachan’s drabbles were dedicated to the delightful Emo-Arrancar loving Shinigamikender, so will mine be! This Ulquiorra’s for you!

Ulquiorra was wandering the halls of his master’s palace. He felt an uneasiness he had not known since his Hollow days, when the lure of a half-remembered life kept his soul crawling on the roof of a demolished city. Long ago, as a human, he had survived a war. In this incarnation, as an Arrancar, he was destined to stand on the side of the vanquishing. Still, there was something inside him that wanted to grovel, something that knew no other way to find release from doubt.

Ulquiorra wanted his master, Aizen, to get rid of that Quincy. How to convince him?

**

If Ishida had not been so stunned and incapable of recognizing the feeling of surprise, he would have been surprised by the luxury of his quarters. He had been allowed to bathe himself, to apply salve to his wounds, to choose from a drawer of white clothes. He now sat on a large futon on a strangely glossy floor. The walls looked like white marble veined with gray marble. His arms felt like useless appendages dangling from his body.

There was no pain, but he could see dark burn marks on his wrists and ankles from the incredible energy that had bound him while….

Ishida looked down at himself, dressed like an Arrancar. He told himself it didn’t mean anything; the pants and shirt were just a costume. Clothes had always mattered to him, though, and here he was dressed like the enemy.

He was not beaten down, though. He had not been broken in the slightest. His mind repeated the facts of war to himself: sexual assault is older than the sword. It’s a way of showing dominance. It’s the oldest humiliation in the books. The dull ache between his legs was no different from other wounds received in battle. Strings of blood and semen had washed away in the bath. All the cuts were superficial. Really, he wasn’t even hurt. He lifted a hand (with unusual effort?) and inspected his wrist. It’s nothing.

Ishida lifted his head and stared into the elaborate white nothingness that was Hueco Mundo. No visible entrances or exits, the illusion of perfect freedom. The Ulquiorra creature had told him that the white walls would turn golden and emit shocks if Ishida tried to pass through them the way Arrancar did.

Ishida knew he should be planning an escape, gathering information, processing clues…. It would do absolutely no good to think about….

How long will I have before someone comes for me again?

He knew someone would be coming back for him. Aizen or one of his Arrancar. It was going to happen again. Maybe this time he would…. Ishida shook his head from side to side so forcefully that he felt his hair slap his cheeks.

He would never enjoy it, would he? The memory of the moan that had escaped him while Aizen was rubbing his leg--no, don’t think about it--shuddered deep inside his stomach. He felt vaguely aroused again, nauseous, and then his chest went cold. Kids at school had always called him queer because he sewed, wore matching socks, and didn’t catcall when pretty girls passed by, and he had just scoffed because they could not think of a better way to demean him--

Stop, stop, stop.

The feeling oppressing his lungs made him cough. When he coughed he realized that he had been trying to hold back sobs, and then there was no stopping them. Ishida dropped his chin on his chest and felt his shoulders shake. The humiliation old as war itself had worked. He felt pathetic, weak, ashamed. He was crying the way he had not cried since he was a very young child. He was crying for all the other times that he had held back tears in his sixteen years. It was impossible not to cry.

It had been his first time. He had never even kissed a girl, and this had to happen?

He fell sideways against the futon and lay there on one shoulder, sobbing so loudly that his voice sounded like a wail. He cried until the phlegm clotted in his throat, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He made a few choking, strangled sounds and swallowed.

He was not going to throw up. At least he could keep himself from that humiliation.

"Interesting," said a light voice. "Aizen-sama had assumed you wouldn’t break so easily."

Ishida felt a shock through his limbs that he thought must be from some outside source, but when he looked up and saw Ulquiorra standing there, he knew that it was own fear that had jolted him.

His glasses were foggy. How long had the Arrancar been standing there?

"What?" Ishida snapped. His voice was still thick with tears but there was venom in it. He felt his old pride struggling to brace him against whatever was coming. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. I’ve seen enough." And the strange Arrancar person vanished.

**

"Requesting permission to enter," came Ulquiorra’s soft boyish voice.

"Yes," Aizen said. "Come in and lie with me."

When Ulquiorra entered, he walked directly to the futon and into Aizen’s arms. He lay the soft, black-haired side of his head against Aizen’s nemaki robe, and Aizen fingered the hard white horn of the Hollow-side.

"You’ve been awake for a while?" asked Ulquiorra.

"My mind is burning," Aizen said. "It will be a while before the new creations are battle-worthy, and I need a project to occupy my mind. The Quincy is challenging. I haven’t decided what to do with him."

"He’s not challenging," Ulquiorra said. "He’s trash."

"You sound a little jealous," Aizen said, clasping thumb and fingers around Ulquiorra’s horn. His voice was deep and resonant even as it whispered. "I thought you enjoyed watching me take him. A Quincy is a rare creature. The resistance in his eyes was everything I was told it would be. Come, let’s watch him together." Aizen ran his thumb across Ulquiorra’s left brow. "I rode him for so long, with more force than I imagined possible against a human body. Did you see his eyes? Like blue fire!"

"He has no reiatsu whatsoever."

"No, I could detect some. It could prove challenging to manipulate. I may have to turn him into a Hollow before I can harvest that power, though." Aizen rolled shut Ulquiorra’s left eyelid. "Or I might just keep him human. A human body can be entertaining." His finger trailed down Ulquiorra’s shut eye and cheek and poked the fabric at his neck where the Hollow hole was. "Different orifices. Ones that moisten with blood."

"I observed him in his room," Ulquiorra said, his left eyelid popping open and the bulge there protruding further from its socket. The mismatched eyes gave him an unintended quizzical expression.

"Oh?"

"He’s trash. He was weeping like a human girl."

"Was he?" Aizen’s voice sounded curious. "I want to watch."

Now Ulquiorra was truly puzzled. His eyeball popped out of its socket with soft, wet sound and fell into his awaiting palm. "What can be entertaining about weakness? Aizen-sama, pardon me, but I was under the impression that you enjoyed resistance."

Ulquiorra held up the eyeball and engaged its power. An image of Ishida Uryuu sitting on the futon in white clothes appeared. The boy looked expressionless. Then very quickly his face began to despair. The moment the Quincy collapsed into sobs, Ulquiorra felt his master’s grip through the sheets. Aizen was clutching Ulquiorra’s waist and fingering the slenderness there.

"He’s lovely," said Aizen. "Let me explain it to you, Ulquiorra. The fire of youth burns out so quickly. Someone like me, well, I am so old that I can even be nostalgic for the first time I felt nostalgia. I will tell you now that there is no more beautiful a death than murdered innocence." He turned his face from the image of the Quincy to Ulquiorra’s lopsided expression. Aizen covered the empty eyesocket gently with his thumb. "There is no sorrow greater than the first sorrow, no pain sharper than the first pain." He ran his thumb down the black tear marking on the left side of Ulquiorra’s face. "I am fond of sweet young faces breaking under the weight of the truth. The truth that is the absence of God. The truth that is … me." Aizen smiled faintly. "I killed my vice captain in Soul Society before I came here. It was an act of mercy on my part, to end a life that would have been so pitiful and meaningless without me, but stabbing her was like a consummation--her innocence and my truth. You should have seen the look in her eyes. Sweet, sweet horror."

The image of the crying boy faltered as Ulquiorra’s hand lowered. Aizen raised the wrist again to steady the image, but neither he nor Ulquiorra were watching the projection. The sounds of choked sobs were exciting Aizen. Ulquiorra could feel the pressure of what was a massive organ stiffening against his thigh.

"So the fierce Quincy pride was an act?" whispered Aizen. "He broke down after he thought no one was watching."

"He’s nothing," said Ulquiorra. He began to rub his body against Aizen’s arousal in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "You should kill him."

The sobbing sounds had stopped.

"You’re an intelligent being," said Aizen. "You must tell me why you think that." He touched Ulquiorra’s wrist again. "Play for me the time I took him. I was disappointed that he didn’t cry then, but he must really be a virgin to horror if he broke down so quickly after that just one time."

Ulquiorra thumbed the eyeball in his palm. Another image appeared in the room. A brighter one than the previous image because the recorded events had happened near Aizen’s throne. There the light was whiter, the throne glared with an immaculate and intense brilliance, and the area’s restrained reiatsu deafened even strong spirits and proved unbearable to weak ones.

"You should kill him," Ulquiorra said, glancing sideways at the projected image of the Quincy while continuing to hump Aizen’s arousal. "You have plenty of Arrancar and he’s--he’s just a human. Kill him with one glorious consummation, as you described it, the way you killed your vice captain."

Aizen exhaled deeply and pushed himself away from Ulquiorra in order to remove his own white kimono. He tossed the fabric aside and sat up, bare chest heaving, watching the bound boy projected in larger-than-life dazzling white light. The Quincy was already struggling, jaw clenched, against the projected Aizen’s advances.

"Touch me," the real Aizen commanded Ulquiorra in a whisper. "Touch me with your mouth."

Ulquiorra took hold of the zipper tag at his own throat. "Aizen-sama, pardon me, but I would like to use my mouth to tell you something first."

"Stop touching me!" said the image of the bound boy. The projected Aizen was kneeling before the Quincy’s raised knees, palming the inside of the boy’s thigh through the dark gray fabric of his school pants.

Ulquiorra made a sour face at the writhing human. "He does not look like me, Aizen-sama. He has a weak, human face."

"And so do you, dear one," said Aizen. He cupped Ulquiorra’s chin. "You were a sad grieving human boy before you were a Hollow. Or else why would these black tears be forever etched on your lovely skin? You want me to kill the Quincy. Why? To please you?" Aizen’s smile was light. His eyes were narrowed with pleasure, even though Ulquiorra was not, at the moment, touching him in any way. "I will admit to favoring you, but tell me why I should kill something so precious--a talented and beautiful Quincy who is the last of his kind?"

"He’s not the last of his kind."

Aizen raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know this?"

There was the light clicking sound of a buckle being undone and pants being unzipped. The projected boy’s breath could be heard catching as his pants were yanked down. "S-stop." The boy’s voice was clearly afraid. The projected Aizen was enjoying himself. "You’re not asking nicely. Why should I?"

"When I went to capture the Quincy," Ulquiorra said, "I detected the presence of another Quincy. Records show this Uryuu has a father. The power of this other Quincy was formidable, muted somehow but formidable. My speed, however, was too much for him to challenge. I had seized the younger one before the father even had time to react."

"Another one?" Aizen sat up straighter on the futon and absently gripped his own cock. "Karakura is a place of buried secrets, it seems."

The projected Aizen’s soft grunts could now be heard.

Ulquiorra sighed, closing his one eye. He placed his eyeball on the floor where it continued to project the image of the rape, only at a tipped angle. He unzipped his collar to reveal his Hollow opening. He brought his face to Aizen’s crotch and placed his small white hand over the larger hand holding the giant stiff cock. "Please, Aizen-sama. You don’t have to kill him for me. I have an idea." Ulquiorra spoke against the tender flesh of his master’s genitals. He knew his breath was cool.

Aizen clutched Ulquiorra’s hair and trembled slightly in anticipation. "Tell me your idea, Ulquiorra. If I like it, I will let you lick the length of me. You will not savor my pleasure until you’ve said your piece. If I don’t like your idea, I will…" Aizen grunted maliciously, "take you through your spirit chain hole. I know which way you prefer."

"Don’t kill the Quincy," Ulquiorra said. "He’s crushed and humiliated trash. You saw him crying. Return him to his father, to that little town that boasts so many Shinigami challenging you. Let their trash and their five strong ones see what Aizen-sama can do. Let the boy’s humiliation infect them all."

"Hmmmm," said Aizen.

"From what I’ve been observing of human behavior, terrorism works to vanquish an opponent as well as a straight-forward army. The boy’s family, his friends--they could make a hero of him now that he’s disappeared from them. They could rally themselves to vengeance. If he is returned, pride crushed--"

"You have a cruel streak, Ulquiorra. I thought you were a more practical creature. Isn’t it merciless to let the Quincy live with his pride crushed like that?"

"Not if it serves a greater purpose. He’s worthless already. I doubt you will be able to enjoy him any longer. He won’t even struggle. He probably wants to die. One more fuck would kill him. I suggest you keep him alive. Cut off one of his feet or hands to maximize the terror, and I will drop him back where I found him."

"Now, now," said Aizen. "There’s no need to mutilate him. I’m not Kurotshuchi."

"Who?"

"Never mind." Aizen began to stroke Ulquiorra’s soft black hair. "So you are saying that the boy as a broken human could do more to damage the opponent than whatever monster I could build of him. Interesting." He lay back and spread apart his legs. "Suck me."

Ulquiorra did. The wet sounds and soft breathing of the Arrancar and his master blended with the more urgent grunts of the projected Aizen and the tiny gasps of pain from the boy being violated.

And so it was decided that Ishida Uryuu would be spared and returned to the Realm of the Living.

**

When Ulquiorra came for him, Ishida was ready. His eyes were dry and his heart was hard. Expecting the worst, he had vacated his body. It was as if his soul had cornered itself into one tiny area of his brain, and his skin, his hands, his legs, his vulnerable parts were no longer connected to that soul. Let them do to him whatever they wanted. His body was no longer his.

Ulquiorra bound the Quincy lightly with black rope, meeting no resistance as he did so, and spirited the limp body to Earth without ceremony or comment. Once there, Ulquiorra scratched Ishida’s face with a light gesture, as if petting his cheek, and immediately blood began to run in thick rivulets, darkening the collar of the white Arrancar shirt Ishida wore.

"You don’t look anything like me," murmured Ulquiorra. The words were spoken so softly that Ishida was not sure he heard them.

And the Arrancar left.

Ishida did not feel surprise at being left alive on a street not a block away from his father’s doorstep. It was night, and no one was around. He rolled himself onto his back and looked up at the sky.

His heart was closed. He was alive, but he was not the same person who had been taken to Hueco Mundo. His father’s admonition not to associate with Shinigami would be easy to follow now.

Ishida never wanted to see another Shinigami again unless it was to kill him. There was murder in his soul. The next Shinigami he saw would die. And one day, he vowed, he would kill the Shinigami Sosuke Aizen.

END

A/N: I guess this story is as A/U as I get. It was hard to write Aizen without knowing more about him, but I went with what Miss Ayachan gave us in terms of his characterization and tried to roll with the debauched emperor thing. Kubo gave us an Aizen that certainly went to a lot of trouble to have Hinamori killed, only to have her survive his blade. There’s a humanity there I can’t quite pinpoint yet. It’s like Aizen has the greater good of the universe in mind or else he just has a soft spot for pretty faces.

  ;