chlorhexidine | Under the Influence: Szayel/Arc

Szayel sat in his chair at his desk, one elbow resting on it and propping up his head as he scribbled some hurried notes. It was hard to concentrate, and getting harder, and the headache creeping in wasn't helping. He scowled, taking his glasses off for a moment as he rubbed at his eyes; he'd have to check his blood pressure. The dose must have been stronger than he'd expected; he'd have to lower it for future tests.

He looked up sharply when he felt an achingly familiar reiatsu drawing closer. Ordinarily he'd have no objection to the intrusion but it was hard enough to focus as it was without having him walk in. He forced himself to his feet, fighting off the wave of dizziness that hit and the throb in the back of his head, moving over to the door.

He shut it just as Arc reached it, and then leaned against the door. His heart was racing, and he could feel that his breath had quickened.

“Szayel?” Arc sounded perplexed, and Szayel shut his eyes as he leaned his head against the door.

“Now is not a good time,” he replied, and he knew he sounded breathless, and silently cursed that fact. Even the sound of Arc's voice was distracting, and the memory of hearing him say his name in other ways.

“You sound strange. What are you doing in there?”

Szayel leaned his full weight against the door, considering his options before he answered, “Running an experiment.”

There was an equally long pause before Arc asked, simply, “On yourself?”

“Yes.”

“What's the experiment?” Arc asked.

Szayel tilted his head back, his eyes still closed. He took a deep, and unsteady breath before he answered, “A drug I'm developing.” He rather wanted Arc to stop talking now, because the low tones and questions kept bringing up memories, of Arc pinned against his father's work desk, fingers in Szayel's hair, of the feel of leather against his skin as he straddled Arc in a chair.

Another symptom, perhaps, an effect of the drug. Szayel didn't normally get this distracted by the filthy thoughts in his own head.

“You don't sound all right,” Arc said, after a short pause, and Szayel cursed him as he tried the door, pushing against Szayel's weight.

Szayel pushed back, shutting the door again. “The effects are stronger than I'd anticipated; it's nothing.”

“You've accidentally overdosed,” Arc replied, rephrasing what Szayel had said in a way that made it sound bad.

“In a manner of speaking, but it's not dangerous,” Szayel replied.

“You can't know that if it's still in development, now let me in before I burn down this door.”
Szayel hesitated for a moment, weighing up the likelihood of Arc doing exactly that, and decided the risk was too great.

No. He wanted him there. Arc saying that just gave him an excuse to let the boy in.

He stood up from the door, turning the handle and opening it, to look at Arc on the other side, looking too much like his father with his determined patience and full expectation that Szayel was going to do as he was told. “I am testing,” Szayel said, forcing his gaze back up to Arc's face, instead of over the rest of him as it had wandered, making his throat dry and his heart race faster still, “an aphrodisiac.” He swallowed, and closed his eyes, because even Arc's face was distracting. “If you come in now, I make no guarantees that I will be able to focus on the experiment. You are distracting.”

Arc blinked at him, the look of his father dropping from his face as gentle amusement settled in its place. “You,” he said, “have taken a potent aphrodisiac of your own design?”

Szayel turned away, making his way back to his desk, keeping his balance with one hand on it as he sat down again. “Catnip worked too well on Grimmjow. I wanted to see if I could produce something that would have similar effects without requiring a Coeurl Hollow's involvement.”

“You're flushed, you realise?” Arc asked, shutting the door gently behind himself, and then flipping the lock so they wouldn't be disturbed further.

“Yes,” Szayel answered, “and my blood pressure must be extremely high. My heart rate is already at eighty five per minute, and that was before you walked into the room.” Szayel relaxed back into the chair, taking a deep breath before adding, “I expect it's higher now.”

Arc walked over and perched himself on the desk, not yet close enough to be touching, but Szayel could feel him there, even with his eyes closed. “Do you want me to check them for you?”

Szayel frowned, trying to answer 'no' because he didn't know how he was going to handle having Arc touch him. “Please,” he answered, “if you would?” His mouth had already turned traitor, obviously.

Arc nodded, and moved to retrieve the sphygmomanometer, his knee brushing against Szayel's as he moved, and making Szayel squeeze his eyes more tightly shut for a moment. Contact, touch, the feel of skin, warm and alive under his fingers, stroking over him, he craved it like he'd never known desire before.

It got worse when Arc sat back down, perching on the desk again, one leg brushing against the inside of Szayel's, making his breath catch, as Arc took his hand--

Szayel gasped. It was like electric, voltage running through him, and he realised he'd developed an extreme hypersensitivity. Now he had the contact, he didn't want to lose it; he wanted more, needed more, to satisfy the ache and tingle of his skin.

“Are you all right?” Arc asked, his hand still holding Szayel's, the fingers of his other hand deftly undoing the buttons at Szayel's cuff. He'd heard the gasp, saw the tiny jolt in Szayel when he'd touched him, and his hands were so warm, too. Whatever he'd taken, it was definitely potent.

“I don't usually feel like this until I'm in the thick of things, as it were,” Szayel answered, faintly, his eyes still closed. “It's,” he began, and then trailed off and never explained what it was, opting instead to ask, “Can you turn the dictaphone on? I don't think I'm up to writing.”

Arc frowned, but he turned, and hit the record button. There was a microphone on the desk, and another over the examination table, so that Szayel could take notes hands-free and transcribe them later. He busied himself with taking Szayel's blood pressure, noticing that Szayel was trying very hard not to squirm at every brush of fingers over his bare arm. “One thirty five over eighty,” he said, after a moment, staring at the little gauge, and then letting the air back out of the cuff.

“Subject demonstrates the onset of hypertension,” Szayel said, for the benefit of the microphone. “What about my heart rate?” He asked Arc, opening his eyes to look at him again. He swore he could smell him; traces of cologne, and the cotton shirt he wore, and warm, clean skin, and that lightly scented shampoo he used.

Arc retrieved the stethoscope, leaning over Szayel to reach it, and tilting his head slightly as Szayel turned to follow him. “Subject also displays flushed skin, breathlessness, and blown pupils,” he added, for the microphone. “Really,” he said, this time to Szayel, “I've never seen you like this.”

“You have,” Szayel countered, “it's just that we're usually naked, and one of us is inside the other at the time.”

Arc frowned slightly, unbuttoning Szayel's shirt, and drawing a tiny noise from him in the process. He breathed on the stethoscope before pressing it to Szayel's bared chest, finding his pulse at his neck with the fingers of his other hand just to check. He was surprised by what he heard, and felt. “Ninety two,” he said, after a minute's time had passed. He sat back, drawing his hand away, only to have it caught by Szayel.

“My judgement is impaired right now,” Szayel said, through deep, heavy breaths, “and all I can think about is taking you, all night long, right here. I know I should wait until I've stabilised the effects, and they're not this extreme, but I don't want to.”

Arc blinked, and then looked distinctly amused. “Are you asking me to have sex with you for science?”

Szayel smirked, finding the notion funny himself, but shook his head. “I'm asking you to have sex with me because I cannot get my mind off you, and sex, right now. The fact that there is data to be obtained is an afterthought.”

“That is a powerful aphrodisiac you've taken,” Arc teased.

“I know,” Szayel answered. He wasn't pulling Arc in, although he ached to, but he hadn't let go of his hand. “Please don't make me beg.”

Arc gave Szayel a look and a smirk that resonated with that of his father, self assured, and arrogant, and right now, painfully delicious, making Szayel swallow hard with a drying throat. “I like it when you beg,” Arc answered, slipping forward to perch on Szayel's lap, aware of that fact that Szayel had been erect since Arc had walked into the room and must, by now, be physically aching with it, and desperate.

Szayel arched back in the chair, sighing with satisfaction as Arc's hands slipped under his shirt and over his shoulders, pushing the shirt down his arms. “Subject experiences hypersensitivity,” he said, with a soft little groan as Arc leaned close and nuzzled against Szayel's hair, lips at his ear, “to both touch,” Szayel continued, his voice wavering, “and scent.” He wound his own arms around Arc, dragging the shirt out of the back of his trousers so he could slip his hands under and trail them over smooth muscle, and the indentation marking Arc's spine. “Touch in particular is intoxicating,” he added.

“Ever the scientist,” Arc commented against Szayel's ear before he leaned back slightly, tilting his head back and stating, “subject also demonstrates unusual warmth in skin temperature.”

Szayel chuckled slightly, slipping his shirt off while Arc's fingers ran down his arms, and commented, “The sound of a desired partner's voice seems to heighten the subject's mental arousal,” he paused for a moment while he leaned forward to take a kiss from Arc, losing himself in his mouth, and the taste of him, the way their tongues pressed and slid together, and Arc had definitely put aftershave on this morning. “Unknown if this is the drug or simply a reaction to the partner, further investigation is required.”

“Oh is it now?” Arc asked, his entertainment with that idea writ large, as Szayel murmured an affirmative and unbuttoned Arc's waistcoat and shirt, dipping forward to lave his tongue over the flesh in slow, deliberate strokes. He leaned back a little, letting Szayel work his way up to his throat and bite at its base, possessively. Arc worked his fingers into Szayel's hair, tightening his fist in it, but not pulling as he felt Szayel's teeth press in, and then pull back as his tongue ran over the indentations left behind.

“That's going to be visible tomorrow, isn't it?” Arc asked, mildly, letting Szayel busy himself with stripping the shirt off him.

“I certainly hope so,” Szayel answered, as he bent forwards again and breathed in the scent of Arc, inhaling deeply at his shoulders and throat. “Subject gains definite heightened pleasure from the scent of the partner.”

“You don't always?”

“Usually its your cologne,” Szayel answered, “when you wear it.” He ran his fingers down Arc's back to his waistband, finding his belt, and unbuckling it hurriedly. “Right now, I can smell you over it. Pheromones,” he said, as if it was an explanation, “they're having a stronger effect than normal. And this”, he said, as he slipped one hand into Arc's trousers, under his underwear, to grasp him in one firm but very warm hand, “has been on my mind ever since I took the wretched stuff.”

“You mean it isn't normally?” Arc asked, trying and failing to feign offence. Szayel's hand was very warm, much warmer than usual, and the skin was soft, and having him hold and brush his fingers over it so tenderly was quite pleasurable.

“I'd like to take the lead, this time,” Szayel admitted, his fingers still working in Arc's underwear.
Arc suppressed a pleasured murmur, adjusting his position on Szayel's lap slightly before he answered, in a low voice, “By all means.”

Szayel smirked again, leaning forward to capture Arc's mouth in a lengthy kiss, fingers working in time with his tongue as he pressed forwards slightly, his free hand running up Arc's chest and over his shoulder, coming to rest at the base of his neck, thumb at the front of his throat. “Then you'll have to get on the desk,” he said, as he pulled away from the kiss, his lips flushed.

Arc complied, standing up off Szayel's lap with an aching pang at losing that contact. He allowed Szayel to tug his trousers down as Szayel stood up too, wobbling slightly as he did, and Arc caught him. “Are you all right?”

“Light-headedness,” Szayel answered, quietly. “An effect of the blood pressure, and position change.”

Arc frowned, and ran his fingers through Szayel's hair, still holding him by one arm. Szayel tilted his head towards the contact so subtly Arc doubted he realised he was doing it. “You're rather helplessly aroused right now, aren't you?” He asked.

Szayel looked at him for a moment, and then pushed him slowly back onto the desk with surprising strength, making Arc's eyes go wide, as he pressed in close, breathing heavily. One hand pinned Arc's wrist to the table firmly, with carefully applied force that made Arc's arm completely immobile. Szayel's other hand pinned his hip, and Arc could feel Szayel pressing against his own erection rather deliberately in a way that made Arc's voice catch in his throat.

“Do you feel that?” Szayel asked, his voice soft, as he moved his hips, keeping Arc relatively still while he traced his nose over the contours of Arc's collarbone, inhaling him as he drew breath. “That ache,” he elaborated, “that desperate need to relieve it?” He ran his tongue over Arc's throat, and then kissed his way downward before he broke to speak again. “The sound of your voice,” he murmured, “the smell of your skin,” he inhaled again, and Arc could feel the air brushing over his skin as Szayel did, “the way you taste, and the way,” Szayel groaned, closing his eyes and pausing to run his lips over Arc's skin, “the way you feel, is driving me to distraction, even more than my doing this to you must be doing to you.” He released Arc's wrist, running his fingers over Arc's chest as he kissed and sucked gently at a nipple. “I have taken a substance that has made you intoxicating,” he said. “Helplessly aroused doesn't even begin to cover it.”

Then Szayel sank down to his knees, letting Arc sit up slightly to watch as he took Arc's cock in delicate fingers, and then fixed his mouth around it with a noisy groan of satisfaction, his eyes falling closed as he sucked, almost sweetly.

Arc watched Szayel suck him, propping himself up on one hand, and sinking the fingers of his other into Szayel's hair. He squirmed a little kicking off his trousers, and shoes, as Szayel continued to suck on him, slowly, like he could do this all night long. Arc gave a long, low groan as Szayel swallowed him down, taking him to the hilt, inch by slow inch, and he groaned again when Szayel gave his own muffled moan of pleasure, sending vibrations through Arc's cock.

By the time Szayel pulled away, Arc was ready to do some begging of his own, and he was as flushed in the face, and his pupils blown as wide as Szayel's own. He tugged Szayel down towards him the moment Szayel had shed his own trousers and retrieved something lubricating from the desk drawer, fingers clawing at Szayel's back as Szayel worked a couple of lubricated fingers inside him.

“Subject's partner,” Szayel commented, for the dictaphone, and with more than a note of smug satisfaction, “now displays the same visible symptoms as the subject at the beginning of recording.” Then he leaned down to Arc and murmured into his ear, “Should I take your blood pressure and heart rate?”

“Don't you dare,” Arc warned, knowing Szayel was only asking to tease him, and he was rewarded with a satisfied chuckle from Szayel before Szayel finally entered him. They both groaned with relief and pleasure, and Szayel pressed in close again to take another long kiss from Arc. When he broke the kiss, Arc noticed that Szayel seemed to be fighting something, like he was trying very hard not to orgasm already.

“Subject,” Szayel panted, fighting for his self control, “experiences intensely heightened pleasure,” he opened his eyes again, and swallowed, fixing his eyes on Arc's, “during sex.” Arc reached up into Szayel's hair, and Szayel muttered, “It's a sensory overload, I'll be fine.”

When he started to move, his thrusts were slow, and Arc wrapped his arms around him, feeling the tremble and shudder in Szayel's limbs as he moved into him. Arc struggled himself as Szayel hit his prostate on every thrust, making Arc cry out softly every time.

“Query,” Szayel said, and dropped his head against Arc's shoulder as he gave a similar cry of his own, “if subject were to receive,” Arc's fingers dug in his back, and Szayel felt his arms tremble again, “if orgasm from penetration alone would be achievable?” He gave another small cry, and felt rather than heard Arc muttering something against his ear before his head arched back as another sharp wave of pleasure shuddered through him.

He took Arc's erection in his hand as he thrust, still dreadfully slow, but he didn't think he could withstand anything faster, or harder, without disappointing Arc, and stroked him as he thrust.
Arc came, noisily and messily over his hand, and against his stomach, and Szayel finally stopped holding back against his own orgasm with considerable relief, face pressed in to Arc's neck as he shuddered and came inside him.

When he rested against Arc he felt boneless, out of breath, and sticky to the touch. Arc simply lay there, arms around him, fingers stroking through the ends of his hair. “Better?” He asked, after a moment.

Szayel murmured, thoughtfully. “Something released by the body after orgasm appears to be an effective antidote.” He felt sleepy, now, but he couldn't afford to give in to that just here, and forced himself to sit up, off Arc. “Ah,” he said, adding, “subject still desires physical contact, although the arousing nature of such has faded. What did you say, earlier?” Szayel moved seamlessly onto another topic, of sorts.

Arc looked blank for a moment, and then asked, “How much earlier?”

“When I queried the possibility of orgasm from only prostate stimulation.”

“Oh,” Arc said, “I said we can find out next time.”

Szayel looked at him, and then smirked faintly before he leaned down to press a kiss to Arc's mouth. Then he sat up again, slipping off the table to retrieve his trousers, and saying, for the microphone, “Experimentation in pairs with no background attraction should be undertaken once the drug is stabilised to eliminate any effect affection may have on results.”

Arc sat up, watching Szayel for a moment, before smiling softly. He knew what thought Szayel must have had to make that stipulation to himself.