Shuuhei is a Slut

Title: Forgotten Quarrel

Pairing: Aizen/Shuuhei

Warnings: none, really



Aizen was without a doubt the single most conscientious lover Shuuhei ever occasioned to bed—and he made sure to bed him often enough.



Imagine a room, and in this room a bed. The bed squeaks something fierce from the movement, but that sound pales in comparison to the moaning. The sex doesn\'t look anything special to the outside observer—what you might call “vanilla,” depending on the circle you run in—but that is only to the observer. Any comment like that made to either would necessarily precipitate a slap to the face.



Well, not really. Neither of them are particularly disposed toward violence—their occupations notwithstanding. But they still would at least smirk the smile of the knower of a secret, and there\'s not a thing more aggravating than that to the uninitiated.



But back to the sex. Aizen always was sure to use plenty of lubrication—here it was, in fact, on Aizen’s sheets, he learned the true joys of anal intercourse. He could write a book about it. Even more than lube, though, was the near constant brushing or pressing against that one spot, always just right.



And it was never just the one thing, either; he’d be working at something else the while, with tongue or fingers or both as the situation demanded.



It began by accident. Shuuhei was always a private sort of fellow when it came to his love life—back then, at least—but every now and then something would chance to happen. He might become inordinately excited during the workday for whatever reason, but there was nothing he could do about it till later. Now, he was hardly the sort to be driven insane by that sort of thing, as are some, lesser men, but an erection always presents its own special problems, regardless.



He needed to meet with Captain Aizen, though he could not tell you why. It might have been noon, maybe one. The middle of the day, either way. Aizen, of course, offered to provide a lunch; he was kind like that. But Shuuhei had an erection, and it was not unnoticeable.



It could have gone something like this:



“You seem uncomfortable,” he might have said, or anything similar enough in effect to be indistinguishable in meaning.



And Shuuhei would have responded, “I’m fine, really.” Then maybe thank him for the lunch.



“Be honest,” Aizen would have urged. “You don’t need to lie. I will not judge.”



You can imagine, I think, the rest of the conversation. It doesn’t matter exactly what was said, only what happened directly afterwards.



Their liaison began with a blowjob from Aizen, and it was the single most enjoyable one in Shuuhei’s memory. It only got better from there.



They never said it was a secret, but it was. No telling what sort of gossip might spring up otherwise.



They’d pass by each other on duty every now and then. Not every day or anything, but often enough to have a sort of routine. Aizen would initiate contact, always, would maybe say, “Hello,” or “How are you? It’s been a while,” or anything else like that.



And Shuuhei would respond as appropriate, maybe even stop to chat a while. If time permitted, of course.



They met at night, at Aizen’s place. He’d have his bed made and ready for the love making, might even have done something sappy and romantic the details of which have been forgotten. It doesn’t matter.



He was always top, and Shuuhei bottom, and Aizen was always on top, as well. There was no changing that, but it was fine. They didn’t need something so novel as a different position—they had technique, and they had stamina. Once or twice they even managed a full night of non-stop love-making. But there was never a sign of soreness, not from either.



Aizen liked to teach him. Little things, mostly, like how best to use the tongue, but worthwhile nonetheless. Including his very special tongue-technique sure to always render the receiver speechless. That one took a while, though. No matter. They had time.



They were almost caught once, by his Vice-Captain at the time. That one almost ended badly.



There was an incident, near the peak of their relationship—not that they were exclusive or anything. He knows there was an incident, but he can never remember it. It feels like something important, though.



This is what happened.



It was a night like any other with Aizen hard at work pleasing and fucking. They were both vocally happy.



Shuuhei wondered whether he might try topping for once, out of curiosity. Aizen assented, if hesitantly. It did not go well.



For one, Shuuhei had very near zero experience with being anything other than the receiver. And then there was Aizen’s lack of experience with his new position. At one point one or both of them got a leg cramp—and that was even before Shuuhei was inside!



He did manage to penetrate, though, after a long struggle. There was a rather large stain on the sheets from the excess lube dripping off. Then Aizen made a sound that was not any more pleasant to the ears than the mating call of a broken-legged hippo, if such a sound exists. You can imagine, I’m sure.



It got worse.



Now, it\'s not that there is never any pain associated with anal penetration—there is, trust me, and especially the first time. Nor is it anything about deriving pleasure from the pain. It\'s about focusing on the pleasure over the pain, and that is not something everyone can do.



Aizen wasn\'t exactly sure what to think about this. On the one hand, he was a captain-level shinigami who knew combat, knew injury. He could handle pain well enough. But when it came to sex he preferred unadulterated pleasure, and hold the discomfort please, if you don\'t mind.



He\'d never had to complain about sex before in his life. He wasn\'t sure that he wanted to start. Shuuhei, for his part, seemed to be enjoying himself, now that he\'d found some semblance of rhythm. That enjoyment was not contagious.



Shuuhei was orgasmed and spent much sooner than he was used, long before Aizen was anywhere near satisfied.



Then Shuuhei wondered whether they might do that again sometime. Aizen refused, but Shuuhei pushed the subject, would not let it go. It was a decisive and impassioned discussion, marked at various intervals by colorful language the likes of which are not printable. They decided, in a roundabout and indirect way, that maybe they shouldn\'t see each other again—not that they\'d ever been exclusive or anything: they just would stop having sex with each other.



So a still young Shuuhei stormed from his former lovers quarters late one evening, to return to his own and never look back.



He can never remember most any of this, save the occasional snippet or flash, along with a vague sense of some vague feeling he can never quite define. But Aizen is done with and gone, now; there\'s no need to worry about what happened long ago.



Whenever the thought bothers him, of what happened that night, he reminds himself how far he\'s come since that time, and pushes the thought as best he can to the back of his mind.