chlorhexidine | Under the Influence: Ulquiorra/Zexion

Ulquiorra eyed the small vial with what Zexion could only call suspicion. Szayel had manufactured a substance which worked similarly to the charm spell, except it was significantly more potent, and he had been, with the consent of the other Arrancar, testing it on them. Zexion had tested it previously, as Szayel had wanted to try it on a Ryoka.

Then he'd asked if Ulquiorra would try it. Nnoitra refused, the residents of the Palace at large had banned any possibility of Kadaj trying the concoction, and Grimmjow had turned out to be immune. Apache had, apparently, refused as well, and while Szayel had quietly expressed the intention to deliberately spike somebody with the drug against their will if he could find no further test subjects, he had asked Zexion to intervene in the case of Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra had consented only because Zexion had asked after having tested it himself, Zexion knew that. The way he looked at the vial now made Zexion suspect Ulquiorra was having private second thoughts on the matter.

“Don't feel compelled to take it just because I have,” Zexion said, from his place, propped against the pillows on the bed. They knew the effects of the drug, and so they'd retired to somewhere private, just in case it worked, and it was no loss even if it did not.

Ulquiorra looked at him, one hand tucked in his pocket, and then closed his eyes and gave a small sigh before bringing the vial to his lips and swallowing the contents. “It seems a frivolous thing for him to develop,” Ulquiorra said, as if it explained his hesitance. He trusted Szayel about as much as he trusted Grimmjow, or Nnoitra, and rather less than either of those when it came to the subject of being asked to swallow mysterious substances. “Though fitting.”

“It is frivolous,” Zexion answered, picking up his book off the night stand and turning his attention to it, “but an aphrodisiac this potent that works across gender lines is something people will pay a lot of money for.”

Ulquiorra frowned as he moved over to the bed, removing his shoes before he settled onto it, with a book of his own. He stayed in Zexion's room frequently enough that while he hadn't officially moved in, he was more likely to be found there than in his own room, and that extended to some of his things. “It concerns me that Szayel has access to something of that nature.”

Zexion couldn't help the twitch of a smirk. “I'd be more concerned if Nnoitra did. Szayel seems to take some pride in not requiring such things to find partners.”

“He is not above taking advantage,” Ulquiorra answered. He certainly hadn't been when he'd given Grimmjow catnip, which had given him the idea for this substance in the first place.

Zexion couldn't disagree with that observation, and he smiled faintly as he turned his attention back to his book.

“Anything yet?” He asked, when he'd finished the chapter. He didn't expect to get very much further if Szayel's drug was going to have an effect on Ulquiorra, and he placed his bookmark in the pages.

“No,” Ulquiorra answered, simply.

Zexion frowned slightly and pressed the backs of his fingers against Ulquiorra's cheek. To his surprise, Ulquiorra jumped at the touch, eyeing him as he resettled. “Your skin's warm,” Zexion told him, and then took Ulquiorra's wrist, and checked his pulse, “and your heart rate is elevated,” he concluded, after a minute timed to the bedside clock. “You're sure you don't feel anything?”

“I didn't,” Ulquiorra admitted, “until you touched me.” Now his skin tingled where Zexion's fingers had been, and his throat felt dry. A thousand thoughts raced across his mind, but foremost among them was the notion that he was wearing entirely too many clothes.

“Interesting,” Zexion said, partly to himself, and then he teased the book from Ulquiorra's unresisting hands, shifting over to trail his hand over Ulquiorra's cheek. Ulquiorra closed his eyes, and pressed back, fractionally, in response, and Zexion tilted his head. “You're resisting it.”

Ulquiorra swallowed, inhaling deeply and then regretting that as all he could smell was Zexion, the library's trace, and paper, the slightly flowered scent of the fabric softener used on his shirt and waistcoat, and the lingering scent of tea and lemon cake from earlier. He liked the smell, he knew, but he'd never realised just how much before now, and it made his head throb with the beat of his heart.

“Now you're flushing,” Zexion said, unhelpfully, “so your heart rate and blood pressure have spiked. Why are you trying to fight it?” He asked, curious, and not offended, but remaining too close to Ulquiorra for Ulquiorra's current comfort. Every breath seemed to inhale him, every syllable echoed in Ulquiorra's head, his skin tingled and he was painfully aware of the weight of Zexion shifting on the bed; Zexion was taking over every one of his senses, and it was overwhelming. Ulquiorra had never felt so consumed in someone else's presence before.

“It feels as though I am losing control,” Ulquiorra answered, his voice low and his eyes still shut.

Zexion considered that answer, realising that Ulquiorra had never lost his self control in its entirety before. Feeling as though he might must be frightening for him. Zexion remembered well enough what it had been like for him; Ulquiorra had occupied the entirety of the world, for an all too brief hour, and Zexion had desired him, his touch, and his voice, and his taste, with a ferocity that had ached until he had him, and it was sated.

Zexion frowned a little, and then, after a moment's thought, manoeuvred himself into position over Ulquiorra's lap, seating himself close. He pressed two automail fingers underneath Ulquiorra's chin, and asked, “Do you trust me, Ulquiorra?” He felt the nod more than he could see it, the pressure that barely moved the machina fingers being transmitted up his arm to the nerves at his shoulder. “Then give in to it,” he said, as answer, slipping his arms around Ulquiorra's neck as he pressed forward and pressed his lips to Ulquiorra's own.

Ulquiorra felt as though something had jolted him, and then suddenly there was Zexion's mouth, warm and soft against his own and it became impossible to think. His hands rode up Zexion's sides as he lost himself to Zexion's tongue, and the invasion of something he hadn't realised he craved. Zexion was a comforting weight on his lap which he tugged a little closer, and when he opened his eyes as Zexion leaned slightly backwards, the world seemed a little too bright, and it was hard to see anything except Zexion.

“Your pupils have dilated,” Zexion said, simply, amused by how different Ulquiorra looked when his slitted pupils had widened to dark circles. Ulquiorra only murmured acknowledgement as he worked his hands under Zexion's shirt, marvelling at the coolness of Zexion's skin against his fingertips. Zexion squirmed slightly as Ulquiorra brushed over a ticklish spot at his side, and busied himself with unfastening Ulquiorra's waistcoat and shirt.

“You wish me to give in?” Ulquiorra asked, his voice throbbing and deep as he leaned a little closer, pressing his nose to a spot just below Zexion's ear and inhaling deeply. After a moment's thought he applied his lips there, and licked and nipped at that point with surprising tenderness.

“Yes,” Zexion answered, tilting his head back to allow Ulquiorra better reach as he pushed the shirt back, exposing Ulquiorra's chest and stomach, and the well defined layer of hard muscle that resided there.

“Then you will have to do the same, Ienzo-san,” Ulquiorra answered, before taking both of Zexion's wrists in his hands and pushing him back and down against the bed with a strength Zexion had never experienced from him before. He made a small noise of protest as Ulquiorra pinned him to the bed, shifting his weight so that Zexion couldn't move. Ulquiorra responded by letting go of his automail arm and covering Zexion's mouth with his fingers, holding his other arm up above his head by the wrist in a grip that wasn't painful, but was definitely unbreakable. “That was not a request,” he said, in a tone as firm as his grip, “but you must tell me if you do not wish me to do something.”

Zexion looked up at Ulquiorra wide eyed. He could be dominant, enjoyed being dominant, even, during their normal encounters, but he hadn't seen him like this before. Ulquiorra was going to take the lead; that had been a statement of fact, not a firmly worded request, but what he'd said after it had settled the moment of worry Zexion had felt, and felt guilty for feeling. Ulquiorra had no intention of hurting him, but the drug must have him firmly under its influence by now, and Ulquiorra had desires to satisfy.

Zexion nodded his consent, and Ulquiorra drew his fingers away from Zexion's mouth, taking a hold of Zexion's automail wrist again and leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to Zexion's lips which stole his breath and made him feel warm, and his lips and skin tingle. As they kissed, Ulquiorra loosened his hold on Zexion's wrist, his real one, and stroked his fingers up over Zexion's palm, until they fell between Zexion's splayed fingers and then curled, holding his hand with the fingers interlocked.

Zexion looked to where their hands connected by the side of his head when Ulquiorra moved down, kissing his throat. Zexion's automail hand wound around Ulquiorra's back as Ulquiorra unfastened buttons, pulling some of the more stubborn ones off with a tug that sent them skittering across the room into some distant corner. He didn't let go of Zexion's hand as he dipped down and drew his tongue and lips over a nipple.

He inhaled deeply at Zexion's stomach, lost for a moment in the smell of his flesh and the gentle thrill that warmed him through where he held Zexion's hand. Nothing in all the world mattered but Zexion right now, and Ulquiorra felt an aching desire to pin him in place and slowly enjoy him all night. He'd never felt so content, and yet every touch was a thrill. He could hear Zexion's breath catching when he applied his tongue to the centre line of his abdomen, and felt his fingers twitch against the back of his hand when he brushed his other hand up over Zexion's stomach and chest, up along the side of his neck and into his hair as he bent down for another penetrating kiss.

His heart raced enough to pound in his ears, but it wasn't enough to drown out the small noise of pleasure from Zexion as Ulquiorra unfastened his belt and trousers with one hand. Zexion was already hard. Ulquiorra had been ever since Zexion had taken a seat on his lap and sent the drug's effects into overdrive.

He stroked Zexion with his fingers at first, familiarising himself with the delicately soft skin at his head, and the length of his shaft by touch, while he sucked at Zexion's pulse point in his neck, pressing his hand harder back into the mattress. He listened to every pleasured gasp and quiet groan as he moved to kiss Zexion's collarbone and over to where metal joined flesh. He could feel the scars from surgery under his lips, but didn't care, losing himself to the warmth of Zexion's skin against his mouth.

Zexion grew impatient first, groaning Ulquiorra's name in request as he tugged at the fastenings on Ulquiorra's trousers with his automail hand. Ulquiorra smirked faintly, pushing his hand away, saying, simply, “Patience.” He ached for it enough to drive him insane, but Zexion was intoxicating right now and Ulquiorra wanted that to last, even if it meant holding off on other things he wanted.

He helped Zexion push his trousers the rest of the way off, and then ran his hand down Zexion's side once more before finally surrendering and unfastening his own trousers. Zexion, meanwhile, retrieved lubricant from the night stand, with his free arm, and then wrapped his legs around Ulquiorra and tugged him in, deliberately close, until he could feel Ulquiorra's erection brush against him.

Ulquiorra gasped and shuddered as the contact erupted through him like a shockwave, and his hand tightened around Zexion's own for a moment. He wanted more of that, much more. He could remember how it felt to be inside Zexion, remembered the heat, and the softness of the flesh, and tightness of the muscle, and the memory made him crave to have that sensation now. He wanted to feel Zexion, and hear him gasp and cry out, and cling to him.

He inhaled sharply as he fought for a moment's composure again, and carefully applied the lubricant where it was needed. Zexion murmured his pleasure, flexing slightly, and Ulquiorra watched him, drinking in the view.

With one hand he lifted Zexion's hips into a better position, feeling Zexion's legs lock around him, and then entered him slowly. Ulquiorra closed his eyes, shuddering as he did, completely overwhelmed by how good it felt to finally take him.

Zexion ran metal fingers over Ulquiorra's hair and down his cheek, remembering for himself what Ulquiorra was feeling right now, and smirking to himself. “Take your time,” he said, quietly.

Ulquiorra fixed his eyes on Zexion's, and drew back slowly before pushing back in with equal slowness as he bent over Zexion and groaned his name without any polite suffix.

After a few, achingly slow thrusts Zexion groaned as Ulquiorra pressed inside him, hitting just the right spot with a firmness that made him squirm and squeeze Ulquiorra's hand. Ulquiorra seemed content to move at this pace for a while, and Zexion arched slightly under him as bolts of pleasure crested and ebbed until they were gasping and groaning in unison, Ulquiorra's cheek pressed to Zexion's, and his arm around Zexion's back, holding him as close as he could manage.

Ulquiorra only moved his hand when a needy edge entered Zexion's voice, and then he pressed close as he continued to thrust into him, a little faster, matching the rhythm of his hand around Zexion's cock until Zexion shuddered and came, metal fingers dragging down Ulquiorra's shoulder.

Ulquiorra came before Zexion's orgasm had finished, shaking and gasping against Zexion's ear as he did. Once they were both spent, Ulquiorra withdrew, finally letting go of Zexion's hand so he could better draw Zexion into his arms and tug him close.

Zexion murmured as Ulquiorra buried his face against his shoulder again, both of them out of breath, and stroked his fingers through Ulquiorra's hair. “That was rather intense of you,” he said, quietly, fighting off the urge to relax and sleep that he knew was coming from his hormones right now. Those same hormones acted as an antidote to the drug, it seemed, and Zexion realised he didn't know how long the effects would last if a recipient wasn't male, or didn't achieve an orgasm. He made a mental note to ask Szayel.

“My apologies,” Ulquiorra said, “I was only doing what felt right.”

“It wasn't a complaint,” Zexion answered, and reached for Ulquiorra's arm, following it down to his hand so he could interlace their fingers and hold it, gently, “just an observation.”

Ulquiorra murmured softly, and pressed himself that fraction tighter to Zexion.