Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Footfalls ❯ Chapter 1

Summary: One day on the life of one Grimmjaw Jaggerjack in Las Noches.

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Bleach. But we can all dream, right?

Reason: It isn't usual for me to write one shots, but I wanted to practise descriptions, personifications, confrontations and a few serious scenes and/or speeches. And yeah, it was fun to write this one using our favourite Sexta Espada and my own personal Arrancar xD

Warnings: It's rated M for a reason. Includes rape, violence and adult situations. It's not heavy on spoilers, but includes the whole betrayal deal and the Arrancar arc up till Inoue's part of it as well. Other than that, there aren't any, really.


**B*L*E*A*C*H**

Footfalls

**B*L*E*A*C*H**

Soft footsteps were heard in the dark, ominous corridor, echoing through several hundreds of feet and reaching uncaring ears. Uncaring, like everything else in Las Noches was. But uncaring didn't mean that they weren't heard nevertheless.

Grimmjaw lazily made his way back to his private rooms after the Espada's last useless meeting with Aizen-sama. Whatever had been the issue this time, he no longer remembered. Something along the lines of the odd, but amazing abilities that human girl had, since Ulquiorra had talked about it once or twice after his last encounter with her. That coming to mind, the blue-eyed Arrancar flexed his left arm in response, thankfully restored. Weird not having a limb, the lack of balance. Tch. Not that it mattered. After all, he'd still defeat that Shinigami… If only la Primera Espada had kept his tiny, pale nose on his own business, that is.

Black clad, sandaled feet turned a corner. Aizen-“sama”'s private rooms occupied the whole next hall, or so it was said. He didn't know, never went there, nor did he want to. If it happened, whoever came in never came out unscathed. But then again, said corridor only had one single door that did lead to the former captain's quarters. Nevertheless, beyond it, it was the Espadas', his current destination.

Though as soon as his sandal touched the floor of that hall, he paused, hues searching. Someone was near. Teal eyebrows furrowed in an absent way once he spotted a black lump near the tall, double doors. His shoulders relaxed; he had feared it might be Tousen. Probably to annoy him about not existing any justice in his passing by Aizen-sama's door or some stupid fucking shit like that, using the excuse to cut his head off if the man had the chance.

Yet, the being he sensed and spotted was nothing alike the dark skinned ex Shinigami. It was surely an Arrancar. And for an Arrancar, the presence was fairly weak in fact.

As Grimmjaw approached, it became clearer why their reiatsu felt that weak. Blood. It had spread all over the floor, forming a growing pool of the substance on, beneath and around the figure. It took him a few more steps forward and the fact that he was almost standing across it for whoever it was to raise their head.

The skin was almost sickly pale, even more so due to the blood caked to it. Their right eye was a light, yet sparkly blue, but the left one was emerald green, lively and shining with silent humiliation and defiance.

Flowing black hair tumbled till half way down their back, almost violet in colour among the dark environment, set in dishevelled, but seemingly perfect-looking ringlets. The remains of the hollow mask covered a small part of the left cheek bone and the front left bangs, which were left to peek under it, half covered the whole left part of their features.

And “it” was obviously a female, if the figure, even slumped and trying to make itself unnoticed, had anything to do with it. Her face still had delicate lines, her hands were still slender and her curvy hips and breasts were hard not to notice.

Perhaps stopping for a bit wouldn't be such a bad idea. “What are ya doing here… onna.”

She seemed to flinch at the sound of his voice. Then again, maybe she was just rearranging her position. “Waiting for Aizen-dono.” Her own voice held signs of being rather hoarse. That made his previous question-in-a-statement sound like a shout.

But it didn't surprise him. The weakest were always made a punching bag out of for the strongest ones. If this one didn't fit to serve a real purpose - Aizen's purpose -, if she wasn't strong enough, she could always be killed and no one would notice or care; or even serve as a sex toy while that didn't happen.

For everything that was said about him, Aizen-sama was known for taking, but never giving, enjoying and indulging in the pleasure of causing pain to others. All he truly cared for was his power, and that the Espada took care of any request he had for them and kept bowing to him.

Simple as that.

Also, seeing as this one was beaten and bloody just outside said man's dorms, it seemed obvious what she had been doing and would still do there once he called her again.

Although, the meeting had lasted a good two hours. And Aizen-sama was sure to take his time drinking his tea while talking to Ichimaru and even Tousen.

He had time.

Leaning down at the waist fluidly to catch a firm, harsh grip on her wrist, Grimmjaw hauled her up almost effortlessly despite her almost soundless gasp of protest. With no further explanation whatsoever, the Espada merely dragged her off along the corridor, ignoring her stumbling and vain pulls to retrieve her own wrist back and slight struggling. But a stronger pull on his part and the tightening of his grip stopped her attempts immediately.

Once they reached his own quarters, he opened the door, half throwing her in and almost making her lose her balance in the process. His eyes narrowed a bit at the pitiful sight. Tch. Weakling… “Your name, onna.”

“Reva.” Her eyes, now clearly shining with dread, were glued to the floor, near her own feet.

“Ya know who I am?”

“La Sexta Espada… Grimmjaw Jaggerjack.” His lips curled up at her use of his position as well. She seemed to be smarter than she looked like after all, he'd give her that.

“Then ya also know ya should obey me if ya want to keep all your limbs intact, ne.” his smirk intensified as her eyes rose to glare at him silently, a bit of the fire he had seen previously returning to their mismatched nature. But all she dared to do was pull her robes instinctively closer to her own self. Still, she knew that to be the truth, of course. Everyone did.

Nevertheless, she mustered up the courage to find her voice and finally use it, her voice now louder, clearer. Obviously uncomfortable, as well as pissed, “Aizen-dono should be coming-”

Just as the other took two threatening steps forward, teal eyes hardening in response to her words, she fell silent. The smaller Arrancar put some more distance between them, but it wasn't long till her back hit the wall. In an attempt to escape from his apparent wrath, the female flattened herself against the smooth surface as much as possible.

Grimmjaw paused, the smirk returning to his features. His nostrils flared, picking up the heavy scent of her fear permeating the room. His jacket was the first item to go as he let a quiet chuckle escape his throat. “On the bed, onna.”

That careless gesture as well as the words brought what seemed to be a shudder from her. Those hues pleaded for the inexistent mercy on his part, for him to just roll his eyes at her ridiculous behaviour and growl and hit her, then send her away.

But that wasn't on the Espada's mind if his actions meant anything. Telling him to stay put and not do a thing while that fucking Shinagami was on and about around Hueco Mundo after he got away from a painful death, not once, but twice by his own hand, that was far too much. He'd only feel satisfied when he saw the light and fire in the boy's eyes fade with his life as his blood spreads on the floor. In the least, that is. Therefore, after Aizen's reprimand, he seriously needed to take his mind off of that. What better way to do that then to just give in to carnal urges and physical pleasure?

The meaningful look he sent her finally originated the right response on her part. Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, she took one, then two steps in the bed's direction, sitting down on it gingerly and firmly closing her legs.

On his part, the Sexta Espada wasted no time to step forward, reaching to the back of her head to fist a large portion of her curls in his large hand and pull her head back harshly. His tongue swept over his lips before he licked her right cheek on a whim along a thin cut he found there. Her right eye closed in response since it stung and before he had another idea about what to do in such a position while there was such little distance between them, she turned her face away from him as much as she could due to his grip on her hair, her other eye closing as well. With the movement, against her will, his lips were now just beside her ear.

Taking that chance to bite down not so gently on her lobe, he whispered almost languidly, “Take off your clothes.”

Her hues snapped open once more. They shined with self-hatred, denial, refusal, humiliation, all mixing in turn. Yet, this time she didn't need a second warning to do as he wished for fear that something worse happened.

He took a step back to give her the space needed, the pleased grin on his lips again, “Be careful, onna. I warned ya once already, I won't do it again. And yeah, do it slowly.”

Loath joined the swarm of emotions dancing in her odd eyes, along with fear. And she did value her existence, didn't she?

The death grip on her partially ripped garments relaxed as she put her arms down and reached for the hastily tied obi. Once the long, white strip of soft cloth fluttered silently to the floor, she parted her haori with just the slightest bit of hesitation.

Her figure was surely a nice one to be seen: the hole that declared she was still a hollow, a soulless being, was located just under her collarbone - not as big as his own in his abdomen, he noticed - breasts not too big, nor too small, her stomach smooth and flat. Even though her skin was marred with cuts, some still bleeding, and nasty looking bruises. Looked like Aizen was all but gentle with her.

She got to her feet a bit slower. Without the obi and also due to the change of position, the black hakama fell in a pool around her ankles. The same kind of bruises and wounds covered her pale, otherwise flawless skin. And the sight of her bare long legs and curvy hips were enough for him to lick his lips in satisfaction over his choice.

Just as she was about to sit back down, thighs still firmly closed, he reached out, cupping the back of her neck with just enough pressure, both to let her know he wanted her there now and to let an unfulfilled threat in the air: he could very well use that same hand, those same long fingers, to snap her frail neck whenever he felt like it. “Undress me as well.”

Reva suppressed a shiver of repulsion when feeling his skin on hers. Damn him… It wasn't in her nature to be this way, so obedient, so submissive. But both Aizen and Grimmjaw were much, much stronger. She couldn't, wouldn't dare disobey them or any other of her superiors. That would very well mean her death.

Normally, she was rebel, simply cared about her own self, perfecting her techniques, getting stronger and keeping low while doing it. As simple as that. She called the shots, the lower ranked Arrancar or weaker ones obeyed.

But not in her superiors' dorms. She could not revert back to her usual nature. She had to bow, be silent and take what they gave or did to her with no smart ass comeback, lest they handle her even more roughly than they already do.

Being so, that was the sole reason why she was doing this so willingly. Willingly looking, that is. She couldn't, on the other hand, say she thought the Sexta Espada was unattractive. Iie. But even if he didn't need to resource to rape to get someone on his bed, she could tell why he was doing it.

Control. The need to feel he still had power over something. Even if it was just over her. Like Aizen had over everyone else, including him. In that small detail, they both had the same opinion.

Nevertheless, she focused on her work: not getting even more injured. Aizen enjoyed using his zanpakutou during their trysts, but she was almost sure Grimmjaw would do with being just harsh and rough; it was written in his eyes.

After he had carefully placed the scabbard holding his own zanpakutou on the nearest chair, her hands - shaking slightly at being forced to do something of this kind - started to slowly untie the black clothe of his obi.

“Why were ya dressed in a… Shinigami Shihakushou, onna?” the sneer on his lips when saying that word was evident, even if she wasn't looking up at him.

“Aizen-dono… When back in Seireitei, Aizen-dono was fascinated by his fukutaichou, Hinamori Momo. According to him, I'm as petite as her.” She growled out the word their “Lord” often used to justify himself with gritted teeth. “He enjoys pretending I'm her.”

Grimmjaw caught on to the hatred on the other's voice. She was arrogant, this one. Not enjoying pretending to be someone else, loving herself. And by the looks of it, she loved the sound of her own voice as well. Amusing.

The silky cloth fell to the floor with the quietest whoosh. The white hem of his hakama slackened around his hips, barely staying in place. And with a last, foreboding sigh, she reached out a hand to pull them down with a tug, watching the item fall on top of its respective sash. Her eyes closed tight and even tighter when cold fingers trailed down her stomach.

“Yeah, you're smart, I'll give ya that.” Those same fingers ran back up and around her back to fist the curls at her nape yet again, just a fraction below painful, “I could allow you a bit of pleasure.”

Her eyes snapped back to his with just a hint of inner curiosity, apprehension still being the dominant emotion written there. The Espada grinned darkly at the reaction, “Six minutes. Do as you wish.” Six, because it was his own number. And the one he most preferred.

He was allowing her six minutes of partial freedom so that she didn't hurt herself so much? In from of him, of course. Her pale cheeks reddened in embarrassment. How dare he mock me so? Bloody son of a bitch… Her eyes narrowed once more, lacking their usual effect because of the not so discreet flush. You'll pay for this, Grimmjaw Jaggerjack. But she didn't dare saying this to his face. She wasn't an idiot and she did want to live after this.

Resignedly, Reva turned around to face the bed. She forced her still-in-denial body to cooperate with her mind and climbed onto the bed, sitting down on it with her back to him. The female decided to try her luck; maybe he wouldn't say anything if she kept her position and went on her business-

“On your back and facing me, onna.”

-or maybe not. Kuso.

Shooting him another deserved, hard glare, she obeyed, shuddering and cringing inwardly as she slowly parted her thighs to his hungry gaze.

Watching her conflicting emotions try to accommodate one another in her hues, Grimmjaw leaned against the bed post, almost casually, the smirk never quite leaving his lips.

The lower Arrancar closed her eyes, thanking whatever sick god that was watching over her when the other said nothing about it. It's easier this way, at least. In her mind, she concentrated on the task of pleasing herself alone and, even if it was just for a few short moments, she even managed to forget where she really was.

A small sense of gratitude for the Sexta Espada crossed her mind once she noticed he had been right: if not for her ministrations, she'd be completely dry. But that thought was thoroughly crushed in the next nanosecond. He's probably enjoying this even more than I am.

His tongue ran over pale lips as teal eyes watched her impishly, shamelessly. She seemed to have forgotten him in her personal pleasure and looked as if she was enjoying herself.

But as interesting as it was, Grimmjaw wasn't known for his patience, quite the contrary. And those six minutes should be up anyways. And if they weren't, he wasn't in the mood to care right now and in such situation.

He climbed onto the bed, by her side, not wanting to disturb her. Yet. Once he decided he was in the best position, the Espada slanted his head and captured her slightly parted lips with his in a harsh kiss. Against his smirking mouth, he felt her stiffening and saw her eyes snap open, sudden surprise, confusion and alarm shining in their depths.

Just as she was about to turn her head away to break the forceful kiss, he got a hold of her chin. Pressing his fingertips into her jaw line none too gently, she was forced to part her lips further more with a painful whimper. He took the chance to plunge his tongue into her mouth, just to make his point across that it didn't matter if she didn't want it; he'd do it if he so wanted to.

The next couple of moments and the movements that followed them were too fast for Reva to process them all in a row. Sonido? She only saw the mattress, which suddenly met her face in an uncomfortable manner, though not painful. She only felt cold hands on her skin and then, then her mind immediately decided to restart working as the now somewhat familiar pain between her thighs intensified tenfold. Her lips parted once more in a silent scream, eyes wide.

The Sexta Espada grinned, feeling her pain and using it as his own aphrodisiac. His hands fell from her slender shoulders, one stopping to hold a hip, the other grasping a handful of her locks, pulling her head back sharply. Under his grip, he could feel her shivering, either from repulsion or pleasure, he didn't really care to know.

He pulled back from her only to push back in again, her dampness both helping and urging the movement. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her hip mercilessly as his own moved in a steady rhythm. He had given her no time to adjust; he settled for a harsh and not so slow pace, straight to the point. Because simply, that was how he was. How he was supposed to be, in a way.

Reva fisted handfuls of the silky covers as the male did his work, her head dipped low. Her teeth gritted together when she felt a rebellious moan at the back of her throat. It hurt, it hurt a whole lot, but it was pleasurable as well at some point. Now that she was getting more used to the feeling of him and his ruthless rhythm, that pleasure was starting to be finally felt.

It wasn't welcome. But it was there.

Such as the feeling that was slowly working its way up her wounded body. Slow, but steady.

The fingers tangled into her hair tightened their hold even more as Grimmjaw felt her climax, a low, long moan following her spasms and delicate shivering of her spine. Despite the pleasing feeling, he pulled back from her. Just before her arms collapsed under her own dead weight, strong hands clasped over her shoulders, swiftly turning her around to lie on her back once more.

The female Arrancar, still gasping for breath, made quiet sounds of protest while trying in vain to close her legs and push him away, her eyes showing her tiredness and soreness already, but far too tight long fingers wrapping around her fragile neck brought her back to reality just as fast, the adrenaline flowing back into her system in a blink of an eye.

The feeling of being restrained in such a way combined with the lack of oxygen were getting to her, waking up her Hollow side and causing her to gasp and gag pitifully, her tiny hands clawing at his arms, eyes and mouth wide open.

It was one of the downsides of being part Hollow. In tighter situations such as these, your basic instincts kicked in immediately. And right now, the only coherent thoughts in her mind were of the Let go! Let me go, let me go, let me go!! kind.

The Sexta Espada saw those same thoughts swim just beneath the surface of her odd irises, “Don't fall asleep on me, onna. I'm not done yet.” With that message clear, his grip went lax, allowing her to gasp in the much needed air, the thin, flimsy fingers of her hand grasping his tick wrist still, before she finally let go.

The teal-haired Arrancar, still smirking, adjusted their new position, one hand holding both of hers over her head, his free one holding the back of her right knee so that her leg was partially bended and levelled up. With one smooth thrust, he was inside her again, stretching her painfully once more, resuming the previous pace and not holding back any.

The new angle allowed him to touch her in the very place he seriously wasn't supposed to touch. A place that made her feel like screaming “Stop!” and “Don't stop!” right at the same time, whether he was a rapist or a lover. And after one rougher, harsher movement, it finally brought up that horrid word to her bloodied lips, “Please…”

Sharp, merciless blue eyes caught hers in an unspeakable look, holding her there, his reiatsu washing over her and overloading her already sensitive senses, warning her of the quite clear issue of talking. But at that moment, she was well beyond caring, he could see it in her expression, her eyes, her held-back mewls. She needed release, more than he himself seemed to need. So, another smirk curled his lips upwards, “You're in no conditions of asking a damn thing… Reva.”

“Please just do it.” Another strangled moan sounded since the hand currently on her neck was not letting all the air pass through. It had to be the way he had said her name that made her say it. “Just fuck me.” A small cry escaped her as the grip tightened again, impossibly tight.

“Don't give me orders.” Grimmjaw growled at the back of his throat. He released her sore neck in order to pull her lifted leg higher and closer. Despite her words translating exactly what he was doing then, hearing them almost made him remember his daily life of taking orders. And that was why he was doing this in the first place. And the woman didn't have any right of reminding him of that.

He held nothing back, his reiatsu following the same route as it snapped near and around them every now and then. Anything the female had been able to hold back up till that point was throw out of the window as she tilted her head back and cried out in both pleasure and pain, both sounds far too alike to be distinguishable.

It wasn't needed much more than a few more moments to send him over the edge after her as he finally let her go, the pent-up anger he had felt at her meek request ruining the rest of his fun. Nevertheless, it had worked, somewhat.

His frustration and previous rage had calmed, if just a little bit, and his ever so slightly faster breathing felt good, as did the few drops of perspiration, which were slowly cooling his hot skin. Nah, it hadn't been a waste, not really.

Again, the Sexta Espada pulled away from the harsh breathing Arrancar, reaching over to pull up his covers and carelessly kick the other's side, causing her to fall over to the hard floor in a heap, painfully and in a tangle of her own limbs, sweat, blood and tears. He turned on his back, hands behind his head and partially closed his eyes.

Reva remained where she fell, still trying to recover from the rough handling and control her own breathing, all the while trying to cope with the fact of having fallen on top of one of her worst wounds. She should have expected that, really. And after a few more moments of her silence and motionless, she flinched as she once again felt the monstrous reiatsu quickly rising.

“Oye, I don't want ya sleepin' anywhere near me. Just because I kicked ya out of the bed doesn't mean you can sleep on the floor. Get the hell out.”

She should've expected that as well. With Aizen-dono, it was the same thing. Always the same thing for those as insignificant as her.

As he heard her scrambling to her feet towards the door and away from him, Grimmjaw felt his reiatsu levels fall to normal standards, his body relaxing further into the silk clothes covering the comfortable bed.

The last thing he heard before dozing off were her petite, almost soundless, footsteps as they faded away in the tiled floor.

***B*L*E*A*C*H***B*L*E*A*C*H***B*L*E*A*C*H***B*L* E*A*C*H***

Hurried footfalls, following the same pattern of dozens of others, headed towards one destination as the sounds of yells and spilled blood started to become a bit louder and the scent of the latter, more intense.

The Sexta Espada frowned to himself, hands shoved into the pockets of his hakama. He had been comfortably resting in his room before all this damn noise and disturbs of reiatsu woke him up. Seriously, it was probably a useless spat between two idiotic Arrancars who decided to wake up the whole of Las Noches during the ungodly hours of the morning.

Yet, the smell of blood was still in the air, urging him on, beckoning him closer. The teal-haired figure grinned darkly, his tongue licking his lips and running over sharp teeth leisurely. Maybe it wouldn't be such a waste of time. Just maybe…

…He'd kill the fucking bastards anyways if it was the other way around in the end.

Once he spotted a rather large group not so far away, as well as feeling the two surges of reiatsu close by now (and noticing both felt slightly familiar), Grimmjaw flared up his own reiatsu in warning, with a tad bit of irritation as well to let them all know he should not be ignored.

Like he was the plague, the crowd of weaklings immediately made way for him, the passage leading up to the very centre of the commotion. Calmly, unhurriedly, he walked up to the front.

Light blue eyes blinked.

Yamii, La Decima Espada, was livid, that was the first thing that came to mind. Blood swiftly seeped from cuts and wounds a bit all over him, staining his clothes and the tiled floor. A rather deep looking one, on his thigh, seemed to currently make him limp. His zanpakutou was drawn and pointing menacingly onwards to the much, much smaller Arrancar who was (stupidly enough) facing him.

And to his mild surprise, it was that same female Arrancar he himself had raped. She's strong enough to cut through Yamii's hierro skin? Her reiatsu was ridiculous…

She wasn't unscathed; her right cheek had a long gash and her left wrist looked like it held a nasty sprain to it. But comparing her to the other, she was in a much better state, that was obvious. Reva, wasn't it?

“You'll pay for that one, little girl!” the injured Espada shouted, the grip on his blade tightening, “Come on, move it! Move that pretty little ass of yours!”

Her mismatching eyes narrowed in response, “Damare!” giving a light kick to the floor to allow her the momentum she needed (then again, she was light to begin with, so it wasn't that surprising), she performed an almost impeccable sonido, parrying Yamii's brute force.

Shouts of “Kill her!!”, “Kill him!”, “She's/He's dead.” and even some “She's good.” mixed together in the hot, humid air of that room, blow after blow after blow thrown between a massive zanpakutou and a rather slender and much lighter one, among one or two Cero's, whenever there was the chance.

Reva gritted her teeth painfully tight as she tried in vain to force back the other, her zanpakutou perpendicular to his own, the blunt side of her blade pressed against her forearm as she used all her strength. The move was currently saving her from being chopped into two neat halves. At least for now, anyway. If this keeps up, I'll be killed. He's stupid, but I thought he was even stupider. Another blocked hit, then duck, And I didn't know he actually controlled the reiatsu released into an attack. A hiss as one blow made a cut on her right arm; He has more experience… and an absurd quantity of reiatsu when compared to me. Kuso! My element of surprise is slowly becoming useless.

At that moment, her eyes trailed over to their “audience”. Blood thirsty bastards as they were, surely waiting for more blood. And the three former Shinigami taichous shouldn't take much long to show up either due to the high density of reiatsu in the nearby area. Fuck, this was supposed to be short and quick!! And then, her eyes caught a certain pair of teal coloured ones, much to her surprise.

Grimmjaw watched her on almost with disinterest, arms crossed over a broad chest in slight boredom. Once he noticed her staring, all the Sexta did was tilt his head to the side ever so slightly as if to say “I don't get what the fuck are you doing, but I honestly don't care either” and promptly turn his back on her, starting to leave. And during those short seconds, it felt as if she could hear the footfalls his sandaled feet made on the floor like the first time she had sensed him, if it wasn't for all the ruckus of everyone around.

Right then, it clicked.

After some effort, she pulled away from the tight spot the much larger male had put her in. And to half of her spectators' surprise, she was a fraction too late in performing sonido again as two enormous arms wrapped around her petite frame with an almost crushing force from behind.

“Now you can't run, can't ya?” she could almost feel his sick grin against her earlobe. Glad she didn't though, or maybe her plan would've been thrown out of the window by the intense need of running away and retching.

“Not my intention, Decima Espada.” Reva managed to rasp out while tightening her hold on the hilt of her zanpakutou tenfold and adjusting its position. With a smooth, quick backwards movement of her wrist, she had it buried into the other's massive body.

A satisfied, twisted grin curved her lips as she felt the warm blood coating her fingers. Ichimaru would with no doubts be proud of her if he could see it.

The force restraining her disappeared then as Yamii fell to one knee. She stepped forward once or twice before turning around to look at him.

“You!! You filthy, little-” the female did not let him finish, twisting her blade while a few bones snapped at the pressure, and then taking it out. In a gracious, yet furious strike, she delivered a clean cut across his neck.

As her wide eyes took in the sight, tongue coming out to run over dry, smirking lips, she was reminded of the moment when she had locked stares with the teal eyed Arrancar. If he hadn't turned his back on her and walked away, she never would have thought of giving her back to the (now ex-) Decima so that she could have the upper hand in the fight once again.

She'll have to thank him for it, sooner or later, that was her conclusion as she walked towards Aizen's private quarters.

And she knew exactly how to do it as well. But in her own way. Whether he wanted it or not.

***B*L*E*A*C*H***B*L*E*A*C*H***B*L*E*A*C*H***B*L*E* A*C*H***

Her footsteps echoed in the quiet, relatively spacious room as she moved about to and fro, the former Espada's belongings long gone and replaced by her own, neat and more numerous when in comparison.

Her new clothes fit her form perfectly, hugging her curves in just the right way to do a bit more than just a mere suggestion of her figure and yet cover enough as not to spoil the surprise if it happened to be revealed.

Her hakama was just like everyone else's, though she wore it riding low on her curvy hips; her obi's knot rested sideways against one of them and its ends trailed down till half the length of her legs.

The hole below her collarbone was visible due to the sharp V-cut of her white haori, the collar itself lifted up to cover most of the sides of her neck. The material held itself together by two inches of clothe before it flared out again, leaving the smooth, flawless skin of her stomach visible as well. The back grazed the floor lightly in a makeshift cape. As for the sleeves, they were one or two inches longer than needed, so that only her fingertips were visible.

Just as she had requested it all.

A pleased, self-confident grin crossed her bow-shaped lips, causing her eyes to glint, while she leisurely walked out of her newly appointed rooms.

Aizen had seemed to be a bit surprised with the turn of events. Or so he had wanted her to think (who knew, it was hard to decide what went through the madman's mind).

But obviously, he had never considered such a weak creation as herself, a low-ranked Arrancar, would be able to kill one of his precious Espada, his elite. Oh no, no. She couldn't possibly have been masking her reiatsu all along, no. But maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why he accepted her as the new Decima Espada and tattooed the intricate, gothic-styled number into the skin of her right shin.

Ah, well. Hope that was all there was to it. No consequences, right?

Just as she had gotten out, another door close by opened, more hastily, carelessly, and closed. Looking at her right side, a few rooms ahead and closer to the mouth of the corridor that gave way to the circular hall where all Espada had their rooms installed in, the very object of her previous trail of thoughts exited his own quarters.

The chance presented itself, Reva realized with a half smirk. “Yo. Grimmjaw.” It was finally a change to say their names with the ridiculous -sama or referring to them as the all mighty (insert number from one to ten here) Espada, the strongest of them all. A very good change at that.

Said Espada stopped in his tracks, frowning to himself at the lack of respect the other seemed to have, which reminded him of Ulquiorra's I'm-more-powerful-than-you-and-Aizen-sama's-favourite-Espada fucking attitude. Tch, just because she was an Espada now, it meant nothing. He wasn't like Yamii - Idiot… - and despite her reiatsu not being so insignificant now, he was still stronger. Much stronger.

He turned on his heel to face her, furrowing light blue eyebrows. “Who the fuck do ya think ya are that ya think ya can speak to me as if I'm your equal, onna?”

Nothing more than onna, huh? It was her turn to frown. “We have the same position-”

“I'm La Sexta Espada.” He growled out, eyes narrowing further more, “Doesn't sound the same as La Decima Espada.” He simply turned his back on her yet again, resuming his previous walk.

But before he could finish his second step, she had blocked his path by performing a still improving sonido. His anger seemingly forgotten, the male smirked, “Judging by your behaviour, I'd say ya want to be fucked pretty badly right about now.”

“Think of it as an… appreciation of sorts instead, Sexta.” Taking a bold step forward, their chests were almost touching and her breathing whispered against his collarbone, “Thanks to you, I managed to defeat Yamii.”

“Aah, that's nice.” Despite her advances, his eyes were staring ahead, focusing on a point over her shoulder.

Her nose crinkled delicately, showing her displeasure at his reaction, or lack of it at that, “I could make you a favour, you know. Just with a slight change. You had your way with me before, so now-”

“Urusai.” He muttered as if an after thought, interrupting her almost unconsciously. His irritation was also very clear in his tone. Damn the bloody woman to hell and back. “So what? Think I'll let ya take the lead? Tch. Try Noitora, if ya want.” Another smirk was thrown her way. “Once he's done, ya can try what ya want with him. If ya still have all your limbs with ya, that is.” For the third time, he walked away, with no interruptions this time, his sandals silent in the hallway.

Aizen had called a meeting.

Several hours later, long after the meeting had been adjourned, long after he had returned to his private quarters, Grimmjaw stared at the ceiling for some moments, ignoring for the time being the softly breathing Decima Espada from beside him, already asleep.

Maybe it hadn't been that bad.

Not the fact the onna had her way, fuck, not that (her plan hadn't come out as she had expected anyways, he reminded himself with a self-satisfied smirk). After all, Aizen held enough control over him as it was; he wasn't about to give the little part of it that he still had over to this one.

The slight change in their relationship. Not in that way either, bloody hell.

Just… The light understanding. Yeah, that had to be it.

And he had to admit. It was somewhat of a change not to listen to Reva's footfalls as they faded away in the dark.

~Owari


Dark: Maa, maa… >,> I feel kinda… dirty xDD Sick, aren't I? Ah well, just wanted 2 take this out of my system. On the other hand, I kinda feel a bit proud of this as well n.n

Review? Onegai?