Bleach: A Kinky Collection

Don't like, don't read. Simple, really.

Pairing: Aizen/Grimmjow
Kink: Amputee fetish

Know Your Place
by: Naraku's Dark Soul

He struggled at first. It was hard, with one arm, to fight back against the older man, but he tried anyway; to act otherwise would have been contrary to his very nature. Nonetheless, with fresh blood coming in spurts from his stump of a left arm, he could offer only minimal resistance as Aizen shoved him to his knees on the white carpet of his room. The fall, short as it had been, caused blood to rush forth from his mutilated flesh anew, his jacket now hopelessly stained with the substance. Grimmjow swore. It was becoming harder to focus, his eyes shifting in and out as his did his best to sneer up at Aizen’s grinning face towering over him. Even with his impaired eyesight, he couldn’t help but notice that Aizen looked not at his face, but the red ruin of his left arm, eyes dark with something Grimmjow did not even want to begin to identify.

Swiftly, and with as much force as he could muster, Grimmjow brought his fist towards his stomach. He never even came close to impact. Face impassive, Aizen deftly caught the offending limb, applying just enough pressure that Grimmjow winced, his breath hissing out from between clenched teeth. Again, Grimmjow swore.

“Grimmjow,” he said, and the meaning was clear, the sudden, oppressive reiatsu unnecessary to drive his point home. His vision now swimming as still more blood rushed to stain his jacket and the carpet, Grimmjow had more than enough motivation to close his eyes.

The pressure from the reiatsu eased, but he could offer no resistance as his master gruffly tore the jacket from his wounded shoulder. If he hadn’t been so out of it, he would’ve sworn he heard him moan. He felt dizzy as Aizen, still holding his fist in his large hand, reached down to caress the side of his face.

Aizen’s fingers trailed down his taut neck, across his perfect collarbone, across the flawless skin of his shoulder, and plunged themselves into the remainder of his left arm, sinking deep into the ruined flesh. Grimmjow’s eyes snapped open and he jerked back, falling on his ass, but he couldn’t escape the unbearable pain of Aizen’s touch.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he swore as he writhed, all previous pain and dizziness forgotten under the pressure of the intrusion. He gained some control over himself and attempted to wrest his hand away from Aizen, but with no success. Smiling, he sank his fingers deeper into Grimmjow’s flesh, up to the second knuckle, and he howled, spit flying into the air as his head flew back. His shoulder spasmed uncontrollably, sending blood coursing down his master’s hand and onto the already soiled carpet. He all but passed out from the pain, eyes rolling back into his head with the sheer magnitude of it. Aizen moaned again; this time he was sure of it and it was enough to make him grit his teeth and glare up at the bastard. He moved his fingers again and Grimmjow winced, but did not break eye contact. He grinned and Grimmjow spit at his feet.

“Unless you want the same treatment for your other arm,” Aizen said, his eyes seeming to light up at the prospect, “I think you know what you need to do,” he finished, uncharacteristic grin still plastered on his otherwise mirthless face. Grimmjow was puzzled for a moment until he looked at his master’s hakama and saw the tented fabric. Aizen pushed into him a little more and Grimmjow lowered his head, swallowing a scream.

Upon sensing no resistance from him, Aizen let go of his hand and moved to free his straining erection, cloth swishing as he completed the movement. Grimmjow stilled as the stiff organ was presented to him. He could do so many things to the fucker right now, though he had no idea if he would succeed in any of his endeavors. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, Aizen twisted his fingers inside Grimmjow and he hissed.

Begrudgingly, he leaned forward and took the asshole’s wide cock into his mouth, the thickness of it almost making him choke as Aizen thrust forward, glans hitting the back of his throat. He fisted his free hand in Grimmjow’s hair, the other still busy inside the former Espada’s shoulder, and began thrusting violently into his mouth. Eyes closed, Grimmjow resisted the impulse to bite down on the vile man’s penis, and concentrated on the pain in his shoulder where Aizen was pumping his fingers in time with his cock. If it was the last fucking thing he did, he would get Aizen back for this. Focused on this thought, he almost missed the hitch in his captor’s breath, signaling his impending release. Aizen’s thrusts became almost bruising in their intensity---his jaw would be sore tomorrow, he just knew it---, and he came hard, filling Grimmjow’s mouth with his filth.

In what had to be the most humiliating moment of his life, Grimmjow swallowed the hot essence of the man he had grown to hate.