Balanced on the balls of my feet, my arms resting on my knees, I glare at the shinigami that pass below me. I'm crouched low on the roof of some unimportant reaper building, sneering in disgust at the thought of being back in Seireitei. When a group of black-robed fuckers notices me with cautious, suspicious eyes, I gather snot at the back of my throat and hawk it at them.

The fact that I'm still stuck in shinigami territory - and just found out that they implanted me with a fucking tracking device like I'm some kind of animal - is largely to blame for my irritation. I'm pissed beyond all reason that I have to look at these fucking eye-sores, and the end of it isn't as near within my grasp as I thought it was. The reiatsu limiter has been removed but they're still keeping close tabs on me, which shouldn't be surprising. They're watching my every move and don't think I haven't noticed that Pantera is still (presumably) impounded in some undisclosed location.

I wonder, with hard eyes and a menacing grin, if they realize that they're just egging me on.

My attention is suddenly redirected when I sense a steady hum of reiatsu rushing towards me. Hands balling into fists reflexively, every muscle in my body snaps taut with tension. I wait a second, then two, then three-

Whipping around, I use sonído to speed towards my new target, adrenaline flooding my veins. The moment he's within reach I lash out violently, my strength concentrated in my leg as I swing it towards him. The shinigami comes to an abrupt halt, his arm darting up at the last minute to deflect my blow. His slanted eyes are wide with surprise while the rest of his face remains sternly obstinate. I bare my teeth excitedly and snarl my intent, before swinging for his scarred face.

"Following Kira's orders like an obedient little bitch, huh? I knew you were pathetic the moment I saw you."

The other man dodges quickly, my fist glancing a blow along his wrist. I watch his eyes narrow and his jaw set, but I don't give him a chance to react beyond that as I advance. I can feel the first subtle waves of aggravation wafting off of him as he blocks aggressive attack after aggressive attack, and all it does is feed my hunger.

"You obeyed Akon easily enough yourself, Jaegerjaquez," he finally manages, with just a hint of strain in his voice from exerting himself.

Brows furrowed, I growl angrily as I aim for the bastard's head with my foot, attempting to kick it clean off his scrawny shoulders. I connect with nothing as he flips back through the air - out of reach - and lands soundly on the roof below us.

"You're attracting an audience," he states calmly, despite his hard eyes as he stares up at me.

"I follow no one's orders but my fuckin' own," I counter with a sneer. Glancing away, I glare at the small "audience" that's gathered below us. Small groups of shinigami have clustered about, no doubt waiting to see what's going to happen next between a former Espada and one of their "captains."

I return my cold gaze to my scarred opponent, grinning mockingly. "I'm sure you're used to attracting attention. Who would'a thought a punk like you would have the balls to plaster something that perverted on your fuckin' face."

The man's thin brows furrow minutely, his hand resting on the hilt of his zanpakutou. "I think the only thing perverted here is you, Jaegerjaquez."

Aggravated, I land just inches in front of him and narrow my eyes. "What the hell else could it mean if it doesn't mean what I think it does?"

"Why are you so interested?" he counters tonelessly, despite the fact that his slanted eyes spark with a hint of defensiveness. Scowling, I hover close within his personal space to keep him on edge.

"You were Tousen's fuck toy, weren't you?

That seems to take him by surprise. He falters for a moment, then responds as if he's correcting me. "I was his lieutenant."

"Right. His fuck toy. You fucked your way through the ranks."

Now his eyes are narrowed, tension in his jaw as his fingers tighten around his zanpakutou. "I don't know how Espada got promoted in Hueco Mundo, but if that's how it was you must have been piss poor in bed, Jaegerjaquez. You only made it to Sexta."

"You fuckin' bastard."

Grabbing him by the white collar of his haori, I drag him closer with a snarl. "You got some fuckin' mouth on you, Fuck-face. But I guess that explains why you got that tattoo."

"If you're really that curious, why don't you ask me nicely?"

For a moment I can't respond, because I hadn't expected an answer like that. His voice is low and his eyes are dark, and I can't tell if he means ask him nicely about the origins of his tattoo, or ask him nicely if we can sixty-nine.

And before I can decide, the scarred shinigami suddenly smacks my arm away, dislodging my hand with more force than I would have expected. He smooths the wrinkled fabric I had bunched in my fist, then looks at me with serious eyes.

"I suggest you return to the Third. You're already walking on thin ice and one more wrong move will land you somewhere you hate even more than Seireitei. If it's a fight you're really after, come see me if Pantera is returned to you."

Sneering, I start to growl that I'm not here for his fucking entertainment, that I'll get Pantera back whether they allow it or not, and that he'll be the last pathetic weakling I waste my time on. But again, before I even have the chance to, he's flash-stepped out of my sight.

"Fuckin' coward!" I roar at the sky, incensed and disgusted. When I look at the street below I see the crowds of shinigami have dispersed, but a few stragglers watch me warily as they pass by.

"The fuck you lookin' at? I'll rip your throat out and shit down it."

Barking a hysterical laugh, I stare them down until they're out of sight. When they're finally gone my face falls, and I gaze at the wide expanse of shinigami buildings that surround me, expressionless. The distant horizon - mockingly red - seems to goad knowingly as I think that there isn't any place, anywhere, that I'd hate more than Seireitei.

I don't return to the Third out of sheer defiance, although I hadn't planned on it in the first place anyway. Seeing as I'm already walking a thin line (according to Fuck-face) that seems to be getting under shinigami skin, I decide to toe along it that much harder. I head straight for Twelfth Division and enter Akon's private quarters, although all things considered, they probably aren't private at all.

Kicking the shouji open, I scan his room quickly. It's dark and empty save for a ghostly cloud of lingering smoke that invades my nostrils. I snort derisively as I enter, my hands resting comfortably in my pockets. My eyes continue to survey my new surroundings as I saunter over to his futon. His sheets are arranged neatly, a stark contrast as I consider the disheveled state of my own futon. I expected them to be white like his sterilized lab coat, but instead they're an earthly beige.

Dingy looking, almost, despite their orderly appearance.

I sit down, and for a moment I stare unblinkingly at nothing in particular as I consider my options. It's been a few hours since the fucker accepted Kira's supervision, and while I briefly recall that Kira said he had something to "discuss" with that yellow-toothed fucker, I find myself more concerned with Akon's final words.

Clipped, impatient, fucking dismissive. My upper lip curls and my eyes narrow at an imagined version of him that involves my vengeful hands and his bloody innards.

Turning, I glare at his futon and tear up the sheets so they're in disarray. After a moment's thought I lay back, settling more comfortably than I'd like to against his mattress as I undo my obi. Pushing my hakama down around my thighs, I rearrange myself so I'm lying on my stomach. I press my naked cock into his sheets and spread my legs for better leverage as I grind myself against the mattress. My breathing starts to pick up and I grit my teeth as I rub myself to arousal.

I can feel the first strands of precome, hot and slick as it smears between my cock and Akon's futon. I roll onto my back and take hold of myself, jerking my hand aggressively. More come leaks along the head, and I wipe it on Akon's sheets before returning my attention to beating off. I'm panting gruffly by now, and my legs shift restlessly as they seek purchase. My feet dig into the mattress and my skin is hot, burning with need as my hips arch. I'm getting closer with every deliberate twist of my wrist, my calloused fingers scraping and tugging in all the right places. Grappling with my free hand, I fist a handful of Akon's sheets and pull them over my head.

It's like every nerve in my body throbs the second his scent hits me. The smokey, pungent smell of cigarettes and his own personal musk slam into me like a brick wall, igniting an ache so painful that I feel it in my bones. My toes curl in my tabi and my hand tightens around my cock, pumping viciously. With my free hand I palm my balls and squeeze them hard, rasping a guttural groan as I arch off the futon, ropes of come hitting my chest.

It takes me longer than it should to settle back down. I'm still taut with crackling nerves, shaken by my orgasm as my chest heaves. Slowly, I start to melt back against his tangled sheets. My breathing begins to even out and I let my hands rest where they are, content against my sated cock. My body is slack with satisfaction and my eyes are barely open, drifting shut inch by inch. Akon's smell still surrounds me, sparking pleasurable pricks throughout my body. I find myself twisting where I lay, starting to wrap myself in his sheets, images of him naked, flushed, spread wide open-

When the sheet is suddenly torn away, my eyes snap open and I'm immediately on the defensive. Now my skin is tingling for an entirely different reason, and I stare unblinkingly at the figure standing above me. He's behind me, positioned at such an angle that it's hard to decipher his expression. On the other hand, it's likely that he's just lacking an expression all together. From my vantage point his eyes look pitch-black, cold and bottomless within the hollowed cave of his pale, hairless brow.

"I really hope the need to mark your territory ends here, and that next time I don't walk in on you smearing your feces on my walls."

His low voice shatters the silent wall of tension that our locked eyes had erected between us. I sit up quickly and shift around so I'm facing him, scooting back on the futon to put some distance between us. My eyebrows are furrowed over an otherwise bland expression as I use his sheet to wipe the come from my chest. He watches me and a flicker of what I swear is disappointment has a wave of smug arrogance flooding my system. I suddenly think to myself that punishment doesn't always have to involve ripping out someone's insides.

Leaning back slowly, I recline on my forearms and let my legs fan open. My hakama has slipped down to my ankles by now, and I grin at Akon - sharp with predacious intent - as he puts a cigarette between his lips.

"If you wanted ta lick it up all you had to do was ask."

Akon pauses while bringing that silver lighter to his mouth. His thumb is on the dial but he's yet to light his cigarette. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and then he just chuckles, dry amusement in his gaze.

"Are you ready for another round so soon?"

Brows furrowing, I narrow my eyes and sit up a little straighter. "I'm always ready, dipshit. Now get on your knees and suck my fucking dick."

Snorting softly, the dumb bastard is stupid enough to ignore me in favor of lighting his cigarette. The white cylinder burns an angry red that mirrors my escalating temper. Aggravated that he has the fucking nerve to reject me twice in the same day, I scowl furiously and get to my feet. I'm about to punch a hole through his fucking head when suddenly it occurs to me that two can play that game. Cooling my expression, I pull my hakama up and start fastening my obi.

"Don't sulk. After last night I'm willing to give your stamina the benefit of the doubt," Akon goads lightly, smirking around his cigarette as he reaches for my groin. I snatch his wrist in a bruising grip to stop him short, staring him hard in the eye.

"When I want you to die choking, it'll be on Pantera."

For a moment he just stares at me, expressionless. His lips are parted slightly so his cigarette dangles precariously between them, his dark eyes cold as he registers what I said. I shove his hand away as I walk around him, pocketing my own while heading for the open shouji.

"I knew you had an ego but I didn't know it bruised so easily," Akon finally says, matter-of-fact but with a detectable harshness punctuating his tone. I can sense his irritation is accented with reluctant confusion, which incites my sharp, satisfied grin.

"That shinigami with the sixty-nine on his face? I'd rather take his mouth for a spin, see if that tattoo has a right ta be there in the first place."

I send him one final look over my shoulder. Smoke billows from his nostrils and the tilt of his head is unexpectedly arrogant.

So is the hoarse sound of his smoker's voice when he laughs like he knows something I don't.

I barge into Kira's office with a snarl, Akon's infuriating condescension still fresh in my mind. I pace in front of his desk and stare down at him with murderous eyes. He stares back, calm and questioning, before he finally asks: "What is it now?"

I want to say "By the time I'm through every single one of you will be dead," but I'm sure he already knows that, so instead I settle on the second thing that springs to mind.

"What'd you discuss with Akon's captain when you went to the Twelfth earlier?"

Kira's scrawny brow arches slightly, as if he wasn't expecting that particular response. "Should something like that be any of your concern? If you truly insist on resisting assimilation, I'd suggest staying out of our politics."

Leaning forward on his desk, I narrow my eyes and lower my voice. "This ain't about fucking politics. That bastard has a date with death and I got him footing the bill."

"Interesting analogy," Kira comments quietly, returning his brow to its perpetually "thoughtful" state. He reaches inside his haori and pulls out something that I can't identify until it's set down in front of me. "Take this. It should flush the bacteria from your system."

Jerking back defensively, I scrutinize the proffered object with hostile eyes. It's some kind of small, sickly green capsule. So Kira knows about the fucked-up surveillance bacteria, huh? How'd he find out? Or more importantly. . .

"Where the fuck did you get this?"

"Does it really matter to you?"

"Who?" I revise between clenched teeth.

Kira sighs softly, like he's being inconvenienced somehow. "Kurotsuchi-taichou is the only one with the knowledge to eradicate something that he created. But the Soutaichou has also been made aware of your current predicament."

"What, that supposed ta make me feel better? Instill me with confidence or some shit?"

"Jaegerjaquez, I can't imagine anything is capable of instilling you with confidence that you don't already possess."

I snort, and grin in spite of myself. At least someone around here knows who the fuck they're dealing with. I eye the tiny capsule a second time, skeptical as I weigh my options and contemplate the fact that it came from that yellow-toothed fucker. What I want to say is "fuck that" and "fuck him" - that I don't want anything to do with anything that involves Kurotsuchi Mayuri - but potentially getting rid of the shit he put inside of me is one hell of a temptation.

"It's a pill," Kira suddenly intones, apparently taking my contemplative silence for confused ignorance. "You swallow it, but I can crush it into your food if that makes you more comfortable. It's something I've seen done to sick animals in the Living World."

"Fuck you," I snap back, though my mind's already focused elsewhere as I snatch the pill from his desk. I shove my hands into my pockets and start walking away without another word.

"You're welcome," is all Kira says in return, sounding distant himself. I'm already in the hallway outside his office when he speaks up again.

"One more thing."

I pause, deliberately unwilling, before glancing back at him.

"I think if you hold tight for a few more weeks, there's a chance Pantera will be returned to you."

My ears perk and my eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "Where is he?"

"That's classified information that I don't have access to, and for good reason."

He gives me a pointed look as if to say, I know what you're thinking, Jaegerjaquez, and trying to beat the information out of me would be useless because I don't have it to begin with.

I stare at the other man for one long, calculating moment. Then I grin slowly, my gaze honed on him as I bare my teeth. "They'd change their minds if I held you captive with a cero aimed at your head. Then again, they might think it's one less worthless fuck hangin' around and wastin' space. You better hope I don't get him back, shinigami, if you're attached to your head beyond that scrawny lookin' thing you call a neck."

I don't know for certain what Kira meant by "flush," but I've got an idea or two, and neither of them look pretty in my head. Thinking that I don't need to be seen by any shithead shinigami when I experiment with this damned pill I got from the fucking Twelfth, I decide to revisit the spot I had found after Akon collar-shocked me that one time. The reminder leaves a sour taste in my mouth, especially when I have his new bullshit stunts to think about.

Scowling, I stalk up to the abandoned building and look for the broken column I had destroyed the last time I was here. Its splintered edges are dark with the remains of my blood that's long since dried. If I think too much about Akon and how his behavior has made me feel, I'll start to wonder why I bothered with him at all. And if I did that, I'd have to acknowledge that I'm thinking about my fuck toy beyond the fucking.

And I don't think about my fuck toys beyond fucking. I don't contemplate the things my fuck toys do unless those things involve my cock. Take my cock out of the picture (or their mouth, or ass, or cunt) and I couldn't care less.

Grimacing, I sit down on the building's tattered steps. I reach into my pocket to retrieve the sickly green pill, then hold it up to get a better look at it. Looks harmless enough, as small as it is, but by now I know better than to underestimate anything that comes out of Soul Society's Twelfth Division. I roll the capsule between my fingers, turning it over in my mind.

"Fuck," I snarl, raking my other hand through my tangled hair. This piece of shit could kill me for all I know. Wouldn't that get the fuckers off? Nothing like taking out an Espada using some fucking pill.

I shoot to my feet and start pacing, balling my hands into fists, flexing my fingers. I haven't forgotten about Kurosaki and his promise to fight me as many times as I want. I haven't forgotten that his life belongs to me and when he dies I'll be the one responsible for it. I haven't forgotten that Kurotsuchi Mayuri has to pay and so does every other shinigami plaguing this hellhole.

I haven't forgotten that Akon needs to regret turning me down twice in the same day.

They could be watching me this very moment, I realize. Him and his fucking captain. Laughing as I squirm, the smug, perverse fuckers that they are.

Glaring at the pill in my palm, I crack a willful grin. "Nice try, fuckers, but you won't get me with pathetic shit like this."

It rings like a challenge as I slap my hand against my mouth. Kira's voice sounds in my head: Swallow it. The pill hits my tongue and I throw my head back before I can taste anything.

For the first few seconds, all I do is stand stock-still, waiting for something to happen. I don't know what I should be expecting, exactly, but whatever it is I want to be prepared. Like a panther that senses danger in the darkness, but knows that it won't go down without a fight.

It takes about two minutes to kick in. My skin starts to feel hot, and my stomach (or what's left of it around my hollow hole, anyway) slowly starts to churn. I steel myself but somehow the first wave manages to take me by surprise. The slow churning suddenly twists so violently that I hardly have time to bend over before a swell of fluid is surging upwards. I gag, retch, and reach out instinctively for something to grab onto so I can steady myself. Nothing's nearby so I fall to my knees, disoriented as I heave around a mouthful of something thick and oily.

The stuff drips from my mouth like some slimy web.

Gasping, I claw at grass and dirt as my whole body shakes with uncontrollable tremors. My eyes burn like acid's been thrown at them, and there's an unbearable pain all the way in my fucking bones. I choke, spasm, and tremble pathetically. It's worse than I thought it'd be, and my mind reels when I think it's never going to end.

When it finally starts to subside, I'm able to notice a pile of slick vomit soaking the ground beneath me. The dark, reddish-black color of it looks too much like blood to be of any comfort.

"Fuck," I rasp, breathless and sore. Tears have streamed down my face involuntarily, and everything looks uneasily blurry. I fall sideways and crawl away, trying to distance myself from what just happened. I gather all the saliva I can and spit it out, worried that the lingering taste in my mouth will start the process all over again.

"Shit."

I spook like a fucking cat, every hair on my body bristling as I whip my head around. My vision swims but I can tell who it is by their voice, and the block of white that's moving towards me.

"You'll be fine," he tells me. It's hard to read his tone when I'm so bewildered, and I feel infuriatingly panicked when my vision swirls with black. I'm practically fucking blind and I snarl like a rabid animal when I sense him kneeling near me.

"Fuck off," I warn him, like a hiss between my teeth. I feel increasingly feverish and my anxiety shoots through the roof.

"Fuck off!" I roar, dangerously close to losing it completely now that I can't see him at all. When his hand cups the side of my face I snap, lunging for him now that I know exactly where he is. He struggles to get a hold of me and I struggle to rip his throat out, until finally he's holding me so close that I can't move well enough to do any real damage. One arm is wrapped around my waist and the other is hooked under my armpit, my hair trapped in the controlling grip of his fist.

"You'll be fine," he says again, stern and confident.

Reassuring, I manage to register through the agonizing dread that thunders against my skull.

"I'll fucking kill you," I rasp, twisting in his arms. I try to push him away, to hurt him as best I can without being able to see where my hands make contact. I'm panting and he won't let go, until my mind blackens like my sight.

The next time I find myself conscious, I feel like death warmed over. I startle awake in the middle of a deep, pitch-black sleep, alarmed and bewildered. Either I'm still being affected by that fucking pill or it's just too dark, but for a moment I have no idea where I am. I finally realize that I'm back in my room, resting on my futon, my head cushioned comfortably. My sheets are covering me and I notice that I still feel sweltering, so I kick them off with an agitated groan.

"You've been out for a whole day."

I had sensed him there, sitting in the far corner, but I had tried to ignore his presence. Now that he's spoken I just grit my teeth and turn on my side, resisting the urge to curl into the fetal position.

"Don't tell me you've been there the whole fucking time. Are you fuckin' obsessed with me or what?"

"No, although I did come by more than once to see if you died. In case you had, Kurotsuchi-taichou wanted to make sure he got his hands on your corpse before anyone else."

I glower in his direction, my jaw clenched. "Get out of my fucking room."

I hear a resounding sigh as Akon gets up and starts walking towards me. I'm surprised to see that he isn't smoking, and more surprised when I realize that it doesn't even smell like the stuff. There should be a lingering scent if he had smoked at some point while I was still asleep.

"What happened to your sense of humor? You've been petulant ever since yesterday morning."

"I've been bored," I correct, eyes narrowed. "You were good for a few fucks, plain an' simple. Don't cling to me like a fuckin' woman."

Akon snorts his disbelief, looking down at me with hard, uncompromising eyes. "Cling to you? Need I remind you that you were the one I caught masturbating in my bed, with my sheets wrapped around your head?"

I don't say anything as I curse vehemently inside my head, damning that fucking pill for zapping my strength. If it weren't for that I would have already dragged this bastard out of my room by his throat and thrown him on his ass.

When he sits down on the edge of my futon I kick at him. He catches my ankle and drags me closer, pulling my leg over his lap so I'm nestled tight against his hip. I tell myself that the heat I feel in my face is the result of still being feverish.

"Something's bothering you. The reiatsu limiter was removed and now the surveillance bacteria is gone, but you're more restless now than you were before. What is it?" he asks me seriously, while his hand slides up my calf to curl around my knee. He doesn't even seem to realize what he's doing, and it pisses me off that this moment we're having feels more intimate than having his tongue up my ass.

I'm not used to bullshit like this. I've always gone out of my way to avoid bullshit like this. I sit up on my hands and push myself back, scowling at him angrily.

"I'm not a fucking toy," I hiss. "I'm not anyone's fucking entertainment, and treating me like a fucking dog with a treat dangled over its head? Trying to make me chase my own fucking tail? Do your worst but I'll never jump through hoops. Not for Aizen, not for you, not for anyone."

For a minute he just stares at me. I sit still against the wall and stare back, unmoved as I wait for him to respond or get the fuck out of my room.

What he finally does isn't what I was expecting. I was expecting some dry, calculated, smart-ass justification or taunt. But instead he shifts closer, leaning towards me, his gaze holding mine. I grimace as I try to lean back, but I'm already pressed against the wall. His eyes lower slightly as he presses his lips to mine, and I growl as I snap my teeth at his mouth. He just grabs the side of my neck, the hairs at my nape pinched between his fingers, as he presses harder into the kiss.

Before I know it my struggles to hurt and reject him turn into struggles to pull him into me. He's shifted closer and somehow I'm pressed tightly against his hip for the second time. I claw at his scalp and shoulders as his hands slide over my back, pulling me even closer as he groans into my mouth. I shudder under his touch and pant against him as I arch into his body, licking between his lips hungrily. I end up crumpled on my back, trapped underneath him, the weight of his body pressed between my legs as I kiss him with violent urgency. His hips are just starting to rub against me when abruptly he breaks away, straightening his arms so he's leaning over me and out of reach. My brows are furrowed and my hands grip his sides as my chest heaves.

"You taste horrible."

"You think you taste any better? Like stale cigarettes every fuckin' time."

"Well, I think you must enjoy it more than you're willing to admit, all things considered. Were you talking about Pantera when you said a treat's being dangled over you?"

I grimace angrily and start to sit up, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

"I don't know where it is," he continues, before I can ask him anything. "You already know it was confiscated as soon as you entered Soul Society. Taichou ran a few tests, but I haven't seen it in weeks. In all honesty, I don't think it's in his possession anymore."

"Why the fuck should I believe you? Wherever he is, I'll fuckin' find him. And when I do I'll turn this shithole upside down."

"I'm sure you will," he says faintly. Shockingly, the bastard sounds sincere for once, instead of annoyingly sarcastic. It makes me squint at him suspiciously, especially when the corner of his mouth turns a slight smirk.

"A he? What does he look like?"

My brows knot together as I stare at him. "What's it to you?"

"Just curious as to the appearance of your soul."

I snort, drawing my legs up so I can rest my forearms on my knees. "Why the fuck should I let you in on somethin' like that when you still haven't shown me your zanpakutou?"

"It's rare for members of my division to carry their zanpakutous, with the exception of Kurotsuchi-taichou. It just isn't our department, usually."

"But you gotta have 'em somewhere. You couldn't call yourselves soldiers otherwise."

"I never claimed to be a soldier anyway. I'm a researcher."

My lip curls derisively, and Akon just chuckles, turning his head away as he mutters "You wouldn't understand something like that," almost as if he's speaking to himself. It irritates me, so I scowl and kick him in his side.

"Why were you in that place for prisoners?" I demand to know.

"The Ujimushi no Su?" he questions, glancing back at me. He acts like he didn't even notice being kicked, so I shove him with my foot one more time for good measure. Just to make sure he's paying attention. He grabs my leg and yanks me towards him again, sprawling me on my back. I growl a warning but he leans over me anyway, sitting comfortably between my legs.

"Well, I guess you could say I was tinkering with things that I shouldn't have. Curiosity really can kill the cat, so I'd be careful if I were you, Jaegerjaquez."

"You're too fuckin' vague," I grumble, agitated as I struggle to stare at his eyes instead of his mouth.

"I tinkered with the bodies of people at various stages in their development, to put it mildly."

"In plain fuckin' English?"

"Kids my age, women, a few men. Whoever I could get my hands on, as long as they seemed interesting."

I don't say anything at first; just stare at his face as I try to figure out if he's yanking my chain. He holds my gaze with calm, serious eyes, and I have to bark an incredulous laugh. "You aren't shittin' me, are you? You really are fucked in the head! Figured you had ta be ta work under someone like that, but fuck. . . Wait. You were a fuckin' kid?"

Akon chuckles huskily. "Even I find it hard to imagine, and I was there. It was over a century ago."

I snort, a little disbelieving in spite of myself. I sit up on my forearms and cock my head sideways as I size him up through slits for eyes.

"So that what this is? Just another body for you to tinker with?"

"Well," Akon murmurs, glancing down as he runs his hand up my thigh, "the tinkering I did back then usually involved different entry points. Ones that I had to make myself, if you catch my drift. Now yours, on the other hand. . ."

The drift of his hand is slow but deliberate, and I can't help shivering in response. I open my legs reflexively and watch with hooded eyes as long, pale fingers meet their destination- which isn't my cock, like I'd been expecting (and hoping for). My brows furrow instantly as I continue to watch Akon's hand drifting higher, over the fabric of my obi, the small expanse of bared skin on my abdomen, until finally. . . His calloused fingers skim the rim of my hollow hole, and I have to grind my teeth together to keep my breath from hitching. He fingers that sensitive area with fleeting, teasing touches, making me fist the sheets at my sides as I inhale sharply.

It sounds like a hiss between my tightly clenched teeth. I turn that hiss into a growl as I bare my teeth, my lips curled back. He stares at me with those black eyes of his, a small, self-satisfied smirk on his face. What he does next has my eyes widening and rolling back in their sockets- he curls his fingers around my hollow hole, then leans in to press his fucking face into my fucking crotch. He rubs his head against me like an animal, over balls, cock, everything. I feel his nose nudging me as he inhales deeply, something of a groan emanating from his mouth as he buries his face closer for a better whiff.

I quiver like a pathetic sack of pure need, flushed and groaning. I let my legs fall open even wider, inviting, as I reach down to yank on his hair.

Just as my fingertips brush those coarse strands they're suddenly out of reach. I blink my eyes open and find Akon hovering above me, watching me seriously as he covers my forehead with his palm.

"I think you're still feeling the effects of Taichou's pill. If I were you, I'd rest for a few more days."

I would have said "I'm feeling the effects of your perverted nose-dive into my fucking crotch" if it didn't sound like I was giving him so much credit. Instead I pull him down and latch onto his mouth, kissing him harshly. Fuck him, fuck that pill, and fuck his fucking Taichou. I'm fucking tired of hearing him say Taichou.

Pissed, I bite down on his bottom lip, snarling as I pierce that delicate flesh with vengeful teeth. Akon grumbles something unintelligible and manages to break away, his lip stretched between us for a moment before I decide to let it go. His mouth glistens with spit and blood, making me grin as I lick red droplets from my satisfied lips.

"You're dangerous no matter how impaired you are," he comments, sounding amused as he rubs his tongue over his torn lip.

"Thought you would'a figured that out by now, shit-for-brains. And I ain't fuckin' impaired. Finish what you started and fucking suck my dick."

Smirking softly, Akon rubs his hand over my cock in what would be a blatantly affectionate manner if his eyes weren't so taunting.

"As much as I know you're dying for it, Grimmjow, I was serious. I know that pill isn't out of your system completely. I want to tell you to shut the fuck up, suck it up, and take it easy, but if I did that I'm sure you'd do the exact opposite, just to be a defiant jackass. So when you collapse in the streets after this, hopefully it's around some shinigami you haven't pissed off. Because I won't be the one carrying you back here a second time."

He squeezes me one more time for good measure, but before he can stand up I snatch his wrist to hold him still.

"What about you?" I mutter, eyes narrowed. He doesn't avoid my penetrating stare but his expression looks carefully controlled.

"What about me?"

"Is it gone?"

Leaning forward slowly, his gaze never breaking contact with my own, Akon reaches around to toy with the hair at my nape. "I stopped trying to figure out what is or isn't inside of me a long time ago."

My brow twitches uncertainly as I shove him away. "You sick fuck. I knew you got off on that shit. Taichou's got you wrapped around his bony-ass finger, don't he? His little bitch. Stopped tryin' to figure it out but I bet you know when his cock's inside you."

"I told you jealousy was your department."

Snarling, I tense up in preparation for a lunging attack. But Akon is already in the doorway of my room, sliding the shouji open so he's silhouetted by light from the hallway. His hand rests against the screen door as he looks back at me and says:

"If you weren't so touchy and hadn't left so soon, you would have realized that I would have sucked you off until you begged me to stop."

Those words spark a heat in my chest that I can't interpret. A pounding that I'm not familiar with. He doesn't say anything else before leaving, and I stare at the shouji even after it's been closed. Frustrated, I throw myself back against my futon and roar at the ceiling.

After Akon left, I ended up falling asleep for what had to be another twenty-four hours. Once I reawakened I dragged myself out of bed and reemerged like death reborn, snarling threateningly at any third division shinigami who was stupid enough to look at me for a second too long. For whatever fucking reason Kira seemed mildly concerned over my condition, and had the balls to force me to sit through a physical examination. Apparently he'd been part of the Fourth Division in the past, which handled medical bullshit, and he just couldn't help himself.

Well I just couldn't help shrugging him off with a growl and demanding to know what the big fucking deal was. Weren't shinigami supposed to be soldiers? He had to of seen fuckin' worse.

While I was "defiantly" on the prowl through Seireitei, I did end up crouched behind a building, trying to stifle my loud retching so no one would notice. I shivered contemptibly for a good ten minutes after the vomiting had subsided, furious that I was immobilized. I refused to be vulnerable in Soul Society of all fucking places.

So I went back to my room and slept in a tightly wound ball for another twelve hours.

When I awoke next, I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. I'd been caked with sweat and grime for longer than even I was comfortable with. I scrubbed like I had something poisonous on my skin, and then I let myself soak in piping hot water for a good three hours (refilling the tub with warm water when I had to). When I was dried and dressed I rinsed my mouth for five minutes straight.

Twice.

After that I travelled to Soukyoku Hill so I had a good vantage point to survey Seireitei properly. Standing at the cliff's very edge, with my hands shoved into the pockets of my contemptuously black hakama, I scanned the wide expanse of shinigami buildings. With a scowl I jerked my head away, growling in disgust.

I decided, spitefully, to count my losses for the day and went back to the Third.

It isn't until the third day that I see him again. I hear his voice in Kira's office on my way back to my room, after my routine inspection of Seireitei's boundaries. I also hear Kira's voice and Fuck-face's voice, along with a fourth that I'm not familiar with. My brows furrow contemplatively as I slow my steps, my ears pricking.

"So you think Kurosaki will pay us a visit soon?" I hear Akon asking, in that unconcerned tone of his.

"Pro'ly." It's the fourth, unknown voice that answers, sounding like it's talking with its mouth full. "Gotta start missin' me soon."

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I think he'd start missing Kuchiki-san before he started missing you, Abarai," Fuck-face comments regretfully.

"Why's it gotta be like that, senpai?"

At that point I shove the shouji open and stare into the room. Transferring my hands to my pockets, I incline my jaw arrogantly so I'm looking down at them. Kira's positioned at his desk and Fuck-face is sitting across from him, while Akon stands behind Fuck-face with a cigarette in his mouth. The fourth shinigami is a weird looking fucker with tattoos all over his face and a shock of ridiculously long, ruby-red hair.

I narrow my eyes at him, envious for reasons that I don't care to think about. I quickly redirect my gaze so I'm glaring at three lunches sitting on Kira's desk, the third currently being devoured by the red-haired shinigami while the other two remain untouched as Kira and Fuck-face stare at me.

"Well ain't this fuckin' quaint. Looks like I stumbled on a little shinigami playdate."

"Are you feeling well enough to eat something?" Kira decides to ask me seriously. I bristle, eyes flashing as I grin at him maliciously.

"If your innards are what's on today's menu."

Fuck-face snorts a quiet laugh, instantly rousing my interest. He looks at me with his slanted eyes, and something about them is unexpectedly cold. "If the rest of you was as quick as your mouth, you probably wouldn't be a captive."

"The fuck did you say?" I snap, my upper lip curled as I stalk towards him. That's when a spark of movement suddenly captures my attention, and I realize that Akon's just flicked cigarette ash across my path.

"You certainly seem well enough. I was starting to think that maybe you had choked on your own vomit in a ditch somewhere."

Eyeing him quickly, I straighten up and square my shoulders. "Won't get rid of me that easily."

Akon taps more ash from his cigarette before bringing it back to his mouth. His head is tilted slightly, a small smirk forms around the white cylinder parting his lips, and if I didn't know any better I'd say his dark eyes were fucking flirtatious.

I consider him for a moment, both suspicious and intrigued. Then I remember that I always throw caution to the fucking wind, so without another word I turn towards the shouji. I don't have to look back to know that he'll follow me, and I'm halfway down the hall when I hear the redhead's incredulous voice.

"Wait- wait. They're actually fucking, for real? One of our guys and a former Espada?"

Growling to myself, I spin on my heel to ask Akon why all shinigami wanna die so badly. But I'm stopped short because he's right behind me, his eyes half-moons as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck. His cigarette is gone and his other hand slides around my waist as he pulls me closer, his lips pressing against mine. His kiss is confident as he moves forward, forcing me to walk backwards towards my room.

Any complaints I had die on my tongue as he rubs it to wanton compliance with his own sharply spiced muscle. The shouji is fumbled open as we stumble into my room, and closed again before we continue. I stagger back towards my futon, focused on his mouth as I struggle out of the top half of my uniform. He lifts me up easily, which is more of a turn on than it should be, and deposits me on the mattress. I watch him through the dark as he makes quick work of his uniform, stripping down to his hakama before he kneels on the futon and crawls over me.

"It's always so dark in here," he comments, kissing at my mouth as he settles between my legs. I'm working on undoing his obi with impatient fingers, but it's distracting when I feel his teeth grazing my jawline. I think about telling him that I prefer it that way because it's what I knew before Aizen - before shinigami in general - but there's something more important occupying my mind.

"Why'd you ask about Kurosaki?"

He pauses above me, his forearms resting on either side of my head as he looks down at me. I've loosened his hakama so he starts pushing it down and kicking out of it.

"Didn't you say that you'd 'kill that fucker' if it's the last thing you do? You need to settle some score with him?"

Brows furrowed, I watch him disbelievingly as he glances between us and starts undoing my hakama. Not only am I'm dumbfounded that he remembered that conversation, I'm dumbfounded that the fucker's taken it upon himself to get involved in my personal business.

"That shit has nothing to do with you," I remind him sharply, like a warning.

"No, but you feel a little better now, don't you?"

His question is straightforward and blasé. He sounds like he's explaining something obvious and practical to someone mentally impaired. Glancing back at me, the corner of his mouth twists in a way that's too self-satisfied.

"Now you should have something to keep you focused. Something to look forward to," he murmurs, in a soft, suggestive voice. It sounds too much like helpful advice, or just plain help. For the first time in a long time, I'm at a loss for snappy comebacks. My teeth clench tightly, and Akon just kisses me again- soundly, and again that sense of reassurance.

I don't want to dwell on shit like that. I don't even want to contemplate shit like that for a second, let alone dwell on it. Thankfully he pulls away quickly and busies himself with ridding me of my hakama; gives me something else to think about. I pull my legs up to help him and he tosses the clothing away, then takes off my waraji and tabi.

Keeping my legs where they are, I reach around for the tub of lube and throw it at him. He catches it against his chest and arches one pale, hairless brow.

"What's this? Was the other night a little too much for you?"

"Shut your useless mouth and hurry up. I'd like to get off sometime this century."

"You have been waiting for it, haven't you?" he muses reflectively. It's almost like he addressed that question to himself, not looking at me as he dips his fingers into the tub. I watch him with narrowed eyes as he sets the lube aside, holding my legs to my chest. He glances into my eyes, then lets his gaze trail south, down my heaving abdomen until it reaches the goods. His black eyes seem to darken - as impossible as that should be - as he stares at my flushed cock. But he doesn't say anything else as he slides his fingers over the crack of my ass.

I shudder when his slicked fingertips brush my entrance. I grip my thighs tightly and let my head fall back so my neck's relaxed. His free hand slides up my thigh and I transfer mine to his forearm, holding onto him as he grips the bend in my knee.

Given his unsettling attitude since we entered my room, I thought he'd go too slow and I'd have to take matters into my own hands. But much to my (relieved) surprise, he opens me up quickly and roughly. Within a minute he's three-fingers-deep inside me, pushing and twisting insistently. I'm breathing harshly and my forehead is damp with sweat, toes curling when he brushes that spot inside me. I gasp hoarsely, my fingers digging into his arm as he massages that spot mercilessly.

When he unexpectedly takes my sack into his mouth and sucks on it with a throaty groan, my back snaps violently and I almost shoot my fucking load.

With a snarled hiss I push him away and flip myself over. I spread my legs around him, ass in the air, as I rest my forehead against the crook of my arm and reach down down to stop myself from coming too soon. Fuck, I'm way too pent up for this shit. . . It's all this fucker's fault for letting me go so long. If I wasn't set on getting fucked into oblivion, I'd pin him to the mattress and make sure he couldn't walk for weeks.

I'm certain that my kneeling, willing, and spread wide open stance has clearly painted "Fuck Me" across my ass, because not a second goes by before Akon grabs my hips and drags me closer. His cock slaps against the crack of my ass like a formal decree ("Prepare to be pulverized, bitch"), before it's put into position and shoved into me with dominating force.

The sudden intrusion is foreign, but thankfully the prep loosened me enough that the pain is minimal. I inhale and exhale deeply, clenched tightly around his cock, until I'm slowly able to relax my muscles. I'm dimly aware of his thumbs rubbing over my hips as his hands cup the bend in my waist.

When he finally starts thrusting, I have my burning face buried in the sheets. The already crumbled fabric is balled up in my fists, moistened by the heavy panting that escapes my mouth. I growl a guttural groan as Akon rides me, the feel of his eager hips smacking against mine burning me up from the inside out.

I arch my hips for a better angle, eyes rolling when his cock finally hits where it really counts. His fingers bite into my flesh as he pounds into me, forcing a grunt from my throat. When he leans over me, grinding himself into my ass, his hand reaching around to fondle my cock. . . He pinches the sensitive skin of my nape between his teeth, soothes it with his tongue, and then he fucking chuffs-

I gasp, practically whining as my whole body snaps tight. I shudder, convulse, and my eyes sting with the force of my climax. I spill over his hand and bite my arm as he rubs me through it, dragging it out to the point that it starts to hurt.

Normally I would have lasted longer than that, but I tell myself that this will teach him not to leave me hanging for four fucking days. (Or five, if I count the day I took that damned pill.) It's the stupid bastard's own fault that I came before he could get off.

With that decided in my head I start to sag, melting back towards the mattress with satisfaction and exhaustion. But before I can make myself comfortable Akon's flipping me over, pushing me on my back and spreading my legs.

"The fuck?" I grouse incoherently, incapable of registering what's going on when I'm in a post-orgasmic daze.

Next thing I know, Akon's hand is clasped over my mouth as he reacquaints himself with my ass, shoving himself balls-deep. It doesn't hurt but it's unexpected, especially when just a second ago I couldn't tell up from down. My breath hitches against his sweaty palm, and he leans over me as he quickly picks up the momentum he had before I came. I want to be pissed at him for tossing me down like a fucking rag doll, but it's hard when his thumb rubs my jaw fondly, and his cock fills me up like it belongs there and nowhere else.

"Don't be selfish," he tells me in a husky voice, smirking lightly as he stares down at me. The look in his eye sends a shudder racing through me, and I respond by licking up the salty sweat on his palm. His lashes lower, his lips part, and he shifts his hand so my tongue's teasing between his fore and middle finger.

I'm vaguely aware of the fact that Akon could still have the bacteria inside him. Vaguely aware of the fact that his fucking captain could be watching us. And right there is when I become more actively aware of the fact that now, I'll be only thing he gets to see. He's been stuck with me and me alone, and that means his researcher has officially become mine. His sweating, panting, flushing; eyes fluttering and smoker's voice rasping. . . All of it belongs to me.

I finally realize that it doesn't really matter if Akon is still infected or not. Because even if he is, observing him like this has been reserved for me, and his perverted captain has been left out in the cold.

I hook my legs around his waist and slam my hips to meet his next thrust. His naked brow furrows deeply, and his teeth scrape his bottom lip. He tangles his fingers in my hair, yanks on it harshly, and I claw up his back with skin-breaking force. He arches against me, groaning, and I know he's close by the desperate speed of his hammering hips.

He crushes his mouth to mine and I part my lips for his tongue, swallowing his panting breaths as I kiss him with a hunger I haven't known since my last fight with Kurosaki.

Later, I'm reclining on my back with my head resting against his stomach. He faces the shouji as I face the wall, turning his silver lighter over again between my fingers. Smoke hangs in the air above me from his cigarette, but I don't pay attention to it as I watch lingering light from outside catch on the lighter's reflective surface.

"Did you really not have mirrors or anything like them in Hueco Mundo?"

"What's a mirror?" I mutter, flicking the lighter open and snapping it shut again.

Akon gives a longer pause than he normally would. My eyes shift sideways, leaning towards him, but I don't turn around to look. It feels like he's actually thinking about how to answer me, which is unusual. Most of the time he's quick to mouth off like everyone else is an idiot and he's there to educate them.

"It's something people use to look at themselves," he finally mutters. "It shows their reflection."

Frowning, I rub my thumb over the lighter. "You think hollows need shit like that?"

"Well, when Aizen took over Los Noches?"

I snort dismissively. If Aizen brought mirrors with him from Soul Society, I never knew about it. And I wouldn't have cared even if he had and I knew that he had, because I was busy thinking about more important shit. Like when was the next time I got to pulverize Kurosaki.

"You must have seen one at some point since coming here," Akon continues persistently.

"Why's it fuckin' matter?" I grouse impatiently.

"I'm curious."

And so are you, are his unspoken words. I just shrug, my shoulders bumping against his side. Maybe I had and maybe I hadn't. If I had I wasn't paying attention, because I was focused on whatever shinigami happened to be around me at the time. Not to mention that I spent most of my time in my room, in Kira's office, or on rooftops around Seireitei.

"What do you think of your reflection?" he asks after a moment. My brows furrow at the question, but I remain silent as I stare at the silver lighter. I see something small, with a shock of blue and something noticeably white. I'm guessing that's my "reflection," but I don't understand why it looks so. . .fucking insignificant. Why is it so fucking small? It makes no sense whatsoever, and my brow knots that much tighter as I bring the lighter closer to my face. I stare at the something-white, slowly realizing that it resembles a jaw bone.

Reaching up, I touch that part of my face. I'm not surprised to find that it's the remains of my hollow mask, but I'm surprised to acknowledge it with my own eyes (even if it is the second time that I've looked at this lighter).

But instead of voicing that, I settle for this: "I think that it's no wonder you can't get enough of me."

Akon chuckles, raspy and deep. My head jerks with the movement of his stomach, and I turn to grin at him proudly. He smirks down at me, his gaze lazily content as he brushes a strand of my hair with his finger. He takes one more drag of his cigarette and then he extends his arm, holding it between his fingers as an offering to me. I stare at the thing defensively as I remember my first experience with a cigarette, but his watchful eyes feel too much like a challenge for me to decline.

I tilt my head obligingly and Akon puts the cigarette between my lips. Pinching it between my fingers, I turn my head so I can stare at the wall as I inhale. It burns like the first time, but it isn't as bad as I remembered. Probably because this time I knew what to expect.

Coughing slightly, I scowl at the cigarette and exhale in a rush. The expelled smoke billows around me, languid and opaque, and Akon runs his fingers through my hair. He scratches over my scalp slowly, then rubs my ear between his fingers.

Shivering, I relax against him with drooping eyes. I take one more experimental drag of his cigarette, and then I pass it back to him.

Smoke and mirrors are just two of the things that he introduced me to.

FIN