Summary: The basic gist of this story is that Ichigo is captured and is lusted over by the Espadas. Aizen finally decrees that the fighting must stop and allots each Espada one night with Ichigo. It's Zommari's turn!

Author Comments: I have to admit, I wasn't very thrilled to write Zommari (he was a headache of mine, along with Aeroneiro and Yammy) because I'm wasn't (and still am not, on Yammy's part) sure on how I would portray them. Sadly, he doesn't seem to be popular in Bleach fanfics, does he? I looked him up on the fanfiction site and there was a grand total of ONE story featuring him! Poor Zommari, this one's dedicated to you. Hopefully this turns out alright!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of the characters (or this stuff would be real!)

Ichigo stares at himself in the mirror. He's sitting on the floor facing the mirror, his legs spread. His left arm is behind him, supporting his weight, and his right arm rests on his raised right knee. It's quite a lewd position really, considering that he's naked, but there's nothing he can do. The only part of his body he can move is his eyes, which are currently staring blankly at the sun-shaped tattoo that covers the left side of his neck and part of his cheek.

"How does it feel by be immobilized by my amor?" A deep voice rumbles from behind him. If Ichigo rolls his eyes up and to the left, so that he is no longer staring at his own naked body, he can just catch a glimpse of the seventh Espada. Not that there's much to see, anyways; this man is an oddball if Ichigo's ever seen one. Ichigo's seen some pretty strange hollows during his career as a substitute shinigami, but he's never seen anything like this. The man (Zommari, was it?) is dressed in an outfit that resembles a white bodysuit and seated in something that looks like a giant pink pumpkin. It would almost be funny, if he wasn't so naked and immobile.

"How does it feel to lose control of your body completely?" Zommari continues, and Ichigo watches in horror as his own right hand traces a slow line from his knee to his inner thigh. 'Stop!' Ichigo thinks to his hand, but his efforts prove futile, as his hand continues its journey up his body, dragging his fingers lightly across his own stomach. Ichigo watches as he traces a gentle circle around his nipple with his fingertips, noting dryly that Zommari's power doesn't seem to impair his ability to blush. His fingers roll and pinch the rapidly hardening nub, and Ichigo tries to turn his head away from the mirror, embarrassed, but the muscles in his neck refuse to move. To his horror, a tingle of pleasure shoots through his spine from the ministrations of his traitorous hand (and from his guilty, reluctant voyeurism) and feel himself slowly becoming aroused.

"Oho!" cries Zommari, spying on him in the mirror. "What's this?" Without warning, his left land leaves the floor and wraps itself firmly around his erection, massaging it gently. Ichigo lets out a groan despite himself as his right hand moves to his left nipple, teasing it lightly. To Ichigo's (resigned) surprise, his body stays upright even without his left hand supporting his weight. He supposes that it's part of the power of Amor. Ichigo has no choice but to look on helplessly as his fingers trace sensual patterns across his cock, his fingers gently rubbing the slit. His right hand leaves his chest and travels down, cupping and massaging his balls. His hand starts to move more firmly, jerking off his dripping cock in slow, smooth strokes, occasionally running his thumb over the wet tip. 'It's almost like watching a porno,' Ichigo thinks dryly even as he starts panting from the stimulation.

"Nghhh!" Ichigo manages a moan as his hand starts to move faster, squeezing and stroking his cock mercilessly. There's a hot heat pooling in his gut, at the base of his spine, and he's panting to the rhythm of his strokes, fighting not to lose his mind completely. His hand suddenly slows, then stops, and Ichigo stares at himself in the mirror through heavy-lidded, bewildered eyes. "W-what?" He manages to pant, before his right hand suddenly moves upwards and slides two fingers into his mouth. His left hand starts moving again, slowly, and his right hand follows, thrusting his fingers in and out of his mouth, coating them with saliva.

His left hand stops moving again, and Ichigo groans a little in protest. The fingers leave his mouth with a wet pop and gently dance down his body, as his muscles force him to lean backwards a little more. "W-what are you doing?" Ichigo asks, a little panicked, watching the mirror as his fingertips rub at his puckered opening. "A-ahhh!" He cries in discomfort as the his index finger pushes his way inside into the hot, tight space. "The fuck?" Ichigo groans, trying in vain to move his body backwards, away from his own probing finger. "That feels fucking weir-nghh!" His second saliva-slicked finger pushes its way into his ass, and he pants helplessly, feeling his inner muscles clench uncontrollably on his intruding fingers.

"Relax." Zommari rumbles from behind him, breathing heavily.

"I can't!" Ichigo snaps back at him. "You try relaxing with two fingers up your ass!" The fingers are starting to wiggle and scissor, pushing their way deeper into his body. "The fuck is the point of this exercise anywa-NGHH!" If Ichigo could arch his back, he would've. As it is, he has to settle for crying out and squeezing his eyes shut as his fingers rub their way across a very sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You were saying?" Zommari asks smugly from behind him. "That, I believe, is your prostate."

"Oh god!" Ichigo pants, as he finger-fucks himself. His left hand starts moving again, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and when Ichigo opens his eyes he can see the whole dirty act from his position in front of the mirror. His face is flushed, his eyes dark with lust, and he can see his saliva-slicked fingers pumping in and out of his tight entrance. It's enough to send him over the edge, and he cries out as he climaxes hard, all over the mirror, his fingers still thrusting and his hand milking his cock urgently until he's completely worn out and exhausted. Suddenly he can feel the rigid set of his muscles fade as the sun-shaped tattoo disappears from his neck, and he collapses in a tired heap in front of the mirror, hearing Zommari's satisfied chuckles echoing around the room.

***

A lithe figure paces around in the darkness, the sound of his footfalls echoing around the small chamber. The sliver of moon that hangs in the sky of Hueco Mundo is too dim to illuminate his room, but the man's intense blue eyes are burning brightly enough to pierce through the darkness. The slight moon trembles and hides her face behind a passing cloud as a slow, predatory smirk forms across Grimmjow's face.

GRIMMJOW IS NEXT! Is there anything more that needs to be said? Please read and review!