Name: BlackMARIONETTE

Author: Maironetteblue3

Rating: NC17+

Pairings: Grimmjow x Ulquiorra, Aizen x Ulquiorra (corrupted relationship)

Warnings: Yaoi, the plot swerves from the original! Ulquiorra centric.

Summary: Ulquiorra finds himself inevitably torn in the middle of the war. And he may be the one who decides the outcome.

"When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the dangerous power of obsessive love" – J.K Rowling

~Chapter I = One brick after the next.~

We begin our story with Ulquiorra sinking down the mottled seat, trying desperately to regain his composure. He was exhausted, and his bones weren't the only parts of his anatomy that ached. He blew out a dejected breath and inspected himself for any severe injuries.

Aizen had been uncharacteristically gentle.

It confused Ulquiorra. He hoped that it didn't have anything to do with him, for his own sake. If Aizen doesn't want him sexually anymore, then he would be no more. Oh Ulquiorra didn't hero-worship Aizen as much as everyone thought he did, he didn't just blindly follow his maker.

On contrary, we could say that out of all the Espada, he was the one who despises him most. It was a slow, rough and horrific road that lead up to that point. Now he was aware of a lot of things. Including that Aizen wouldn't hesitate to destroy him on his implied disobedience. Why Aizen viewed him to be such a substantial threat, however, Ulquiorra didn't know. He was only Quarto. Only fourth in his ranks.

What a fool he used to be, how could he have believed that Aizen had any concerns at all with his wellbeing. Really, it was surprising that Aizen even gave him any freedom at all, considering the surveillance put on him.

'Freedom.'

The word was rolled on his tongue, and alas, he mused that, he didn't actually have any. It was only a figure of speech. After all didn't 'freedom,' rightly mean the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint. He didn't have power over anything. Apart from all the arrancar's save for 3. And perhaps… Grimmjow. He was too wild to control.

The set of metal doors slid open and he caught sight of Grimmjow's ever scowling face. Talk of the devil. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and his expression smoothed into nonchalance. 'What do you want?' he asked.

'Ya didn't attend the meeting. And neither – sadly did Aizen, who fucking called the whole thing.' Grimmjow growled.

'What are you trying to imply?' his voice was as cold as ever.

'I heard sounds from his bloody room.'

'So?'

'So,' he mimicked, with the tone of trying to teach an incompetent child the obvious, 'so I want to know what you were doing there.'

Ulquiorra didn't reply. He just stared blankly at Grimmjow, who in turn was feeling the beginning of exasperation. Both sensed how dangerous this conversation could turn. Ulquiorra waved his hand, dismissing anything else Grimmjow was to say. 'Leave. You have no business here, and I don't want to hear you throw a tantrum.'

He shifted in his sandals and turned a shoulder away from Grimmjow. But the much taller man snickered, and reached for Ulquiorra's right hand. 'I'm not goin' anywhere and neither are you.' Ulquiorra's expression didn't change. He stared down at his wrist, painfully bound by Grimmjow's iron grip. 'Fine then. I was fucking with him,' he deadpanned.

Grimmjow blinked. He wasn't surprised. Much. But he couldn't help feeling disappointed at not getting to beat it out of the shorter Espada. What really blew him was how blatantly the fourth had put it. It was common knowledge that Quarto didn't really have any emotions, or if he did, it was never put on display – ever. To Grimmjow, this was a load of shit. Everyone had emotions, unless they were robotic or something.

Well. Maybe Ulquiorra was something.

'Motherfucker,' he growled. 'You fag. You let him do this to ya?'

Something flashed in Ulquiorra's eyes and Grimmjow felt a twisted perception of satisfaction. You see? Grimmjow was right. He was always right. Ulquiorra slapped his wrist away, and glared up at him. Grimmjow slowly felt his satisfaction ebb away. 'No. I didn't. The choice didn't reside with me.'

He didn't say anything else; he left.

----------

"Seduction is often difficult to distinguish from rape. In seduction the rapist often bothers to buy a bottle of wine." – Andrea Dworkin

Aizen had said to meet him. Alone. In his quarter's. Though done many time before, he couldn't fend off the slowly increasing dread as he walked towards his room.

Before he reached up to knock, the door swung open. Aizen was sitting on that throne-like chair, as always. The bed was there too, fitted with sickening white sheets – a stark contrast of the aftermath. Ulquiorra gritted his teeth. 'You… called for me?' he forced out, complacent as ever.

Aizen's thick lips twitched into a smirk. He had bi-polar personalities. One majorly more agreeable with the other one. Ulquiorra hated both.

'Ah… Yes, I did.'

Aizen was swift. Unnaturally so, even for them espada's. Ulquiorra found himself being pushed onto the wall, arms twisted around his back and face squashed, demeaned. Aizen wasn't going to let any shred of Ulquiorra's dignity linger. But Aizen didn't want to have sex with a lifeless doll either, and he let Ulquiorra know it. 'Come on,' he hissed, his voice dripping with malice, 'are you scared, little marionette?'

Ulquiorra didn't even bother gracing the other man with an answer. It would only egg him on if he did. 'Well?' he traced over his neck with semi-long fingernails. 'Answer me.'

'I…I'm…' he forced his head away from those large hands, eyes burning with hate. 'I'm… not scared.'

Aizen's smirk turned savage.

------

He lay gasping for breath, body tangled in the mussed sheets, doused with semen and blood. His finger's clutched on a thin blanket, hanging on as though for dear life. A muted hiss crashed down on tiles somewhere in the distance, his superior hearing enabling to hear the water crashing onto his master's bed.

Shakily, he pushed himself off the bed with one arm. It shook, and one of the most powerful beings in Hueco Mundo collapsed back onto the bed. His silken blankets felt like the coarsest sandpaper on his uncomfortably tender back. Aizen had drugged him. Every part of his body felt like it was on fire. It was times like these when Ulquiorra seriously considered taking lessons form Grimmjow on swearing. Perhaps the reason why he used it in such excessive amounts was because it relieved stress?

Making a mental note on asking when he was properly healed, Ulquiorra took another shuddering breath and attempted to stand again.

Though groping the bed handle for support, Ulquiorra managed to keep himself upright. Every session with Aizen jut got worse and worse. How long was he supposed to keep this up for?

He slowly limped towards his room, leaning heavily on the walls. Everything hurt, and he wondered, with a cold bucket of unrequited fear, when would he get his ass torn wide open all over again. He considered dawdling longer on his mission to lengthen the time, but he knew very well that when he did come back, Aizen would most likely make sure he would never be able to walk again, albeit their supernatural healing abilities.

Turning a corner, he caught sight of the spiked blue haired Espada he knew so well. Oh god. Another unpleasant fact that he was aware of is how much Grimmjow despised his superiority over him. When given the chance, he would absolutely do everything in his power to subdue the Espada, to dominate him, to show everyone that Ulquiorra wasn't as perfect as he seemed. And what better time to do this than now? A chocked sob was wrenched from his very lips, and he could not think of anything better to do than to faint.

At that exact point, emotions were as unwelcome as trash which Ulquiorra took the liberty of naming himself. He could hear distant voices, calling his name, but in his semi-conscious

A fleeting memory flitted through his mind, and he was back. Back to the first time Aizen had… forced himself on him. The cold, the raw fear radiating from Ulquiorra's body, and uncertainty. He didn't know how long he could live with this for.

Ulquiorra welcomed the blackness which threatened to fully consume him as he was swept away into nothingness.

------

"A fine line exists between love and hate. Hate leaves ugly scares, while love leaves beautiful ones." – Mignon McLaughlin.

The first thing he heard, or rather, felt, was white. White, blinding pain. Then, he could hear the voices ringing around the room. How he wished they would just shut up. He swirled around the darkness encompassing him, unable to break free. Unable to breathe through the smothering pain.

Perhaps he was dying? That would explain the nothingness, but it didn't explain the voices. He frowned. They were giving him a headache. Be quiet, he muttered in his head. Instead of yielding, however, the buzzing only became louder.

'Be… Quiet!'

With a jolt, he realized he had said it out loud. His eyes flicked open and he caught sight of Grimmjow and Szayel staring (or was it glaring?) down at him.

'See? I told you to shut up,' Grimmjow growled, 'you woke him up, asshole.'

'If you would stop talking so loud, then I wouldn't have said anything to begin with,' Szayel retorted, slightly louder. Their voices were amplified a thousand times in Ulquiorra's head and he felt a splitting headache begin.

'Just…Just shut up,' he hissed.

Grimmjow's lips curled into a frown. 'No, I won't shut up. And in your state, you won't be able to stop me, until you tell me exactly what the hell you've done to deserve this.'

Ulquiorra groaned. His headache worsened and the two men, each taller than him and indeed, stronger. He was almost immobile. He attempted to lift a slight finger, but found his whole body to have the weight of Iron. 'Just… let me rest for now, alright?'

'No. You can't rest. You will talk.'

Ulquiorra stared up at him with imploring eyes, not answering. Grimmjow's frown quickly turned into a scowl. 'Fine. You don't need to talk. But we… he is going to inspect your body.' He didn't add any question mark onto it, but all the same, Ulquiorra knew they were looking for his consent.

Grimmjow reached down and gently swiped a hand over Ulquiorra's thighs. Ulquiorra's eyes opened wide and his whole body jerked towards Grimmjow's hands. 'Agh…' he hissed, eyes blazing in pain.

Grimmjow's first reaction was surprise, but his lips turned into a smirk. 'So. You were drugged.'

Ulquiorra's eyes turned wide at the tone of voice. They knew… They knew just how fragile he was… Szayel didn't say anything, just pursed his lips. 'What are you planning to do…?' he asked Grimmjow casually. He knew how much the man hated Ulquiorra.

'Who knows. Inspect him, Apporo, his full body. Now.'

Szayel's snickered. 'Oh? What's this? Was all that concern all pretend?'

'Do it before I smash your head in, Szayel.'

'Very well.' He turned to Ulquiorra, and snapped a pair of gloves over his hand. His smirk turned feral, and he flexed his finger's accordingly.

'NO!' Ulquiorra all but screamed. He squirmed on the bed and trying desperately to move. 'Don't touch me. I'll… I'll heal by myself.'

'Now. That wouldn't be fun, would it?'

Ulquiorra's face was drained of what color it had left. Not long after, Yammi was passing that very room. He wondered what was making those beautiful, piercing and rather heartfelt screams. He didn't open the door, but listened to it for a while, before passing by.

Probably Szayel and one of his debauched experiments.

Idiot.

A/N: I swear, it's not going to be some angst ridden fic. This is the most angsty part. There IS going to be fluff and romance and all that. :D My longest chapter…ever. I hope you didn't die from the suckage. Or if you did, please do not be so kind as to tell me. If by some miracle you liked it, then please, do tell me.