((AN: One of my favorite crack pairings (Mayuri/Szayel) has no fics. I'm making the first one, for the sake of all the three other people in the universe that like it too. Be advised; this contains raeptiem, as I call it. First lemon, and it's yaoi. Feel the irony. Feel it.))
How it all happened would always remain a mystery to him. Szayel Apollo Grantz, Octava Espada of Aizen's majestic and omnipotent hollow army, reduced to this. A twitching half-corpse on a dissection table doubling as an experiment table. His Fornicaras had fallen; his perfect little bit of the world had collapsed and left him under the steely scalpel of a man whose madness equaled his own. Possibly even surpassed it; who would ever take the time to compare?
"Blood pressure is low. Nemu! Fetch some steroids, you useless worm!" The masked scientist barked, the quiet and subservient woman skittering off at once. Eerie golden eyes once again turned to his most important and by far the most interesting test subject he'd ever possessed. An Espada; one of the feared generals in Aizen's army. A rather high number, but still a subject of interest. His white haori ruffled slightly as he moved, the kanji for twelve boldly displayed on the back. The sight of it usually sent lesser filth shinigami skittering off; most likely from fear of being ordered to come for 'voluntary testing'.
"You are still alive, though it has been nearly a year past the day I destroyed your 'perfection'."
Mayuri Kurotsuchi smirked down at his Espada, only teeth visible underneath the clown-like mask. Szayel took another labored breath, his own golden eyes shifting from here to there. He'd seen it all before; why he even tried to examine a possible escape route was beyond the Twelfth Division Taichou. It could even be considered slightly maddening; Kurotsuchi was irked with things being beyond him, even if they were meaningless in the long run. Logic was his playground; matching wits with Grantz back in Hueco Mundo had been briefly amusing, but nonetheless a bother. Even more of a bother was bringing out the antidote for the poison he had frozen the Octava with, and bringing an Espada's 'body' with them.
'For dissection purposes.'
He'd said curtly to the Quincy boy when asked, a similar answer given to Unohana. That beast Zaraki hadn't cared, and Kuchiki stayed out of his way. The two of them were vastly different, and Byakuya kept his distance from the other Taichou. Bringing Grantz back past then had been easy; Nemu had carried him back to the lab and thus began the year of agony and torment Szayel had suffered a year hence.
Grantz had closed his eyes; most likely attempting to attain a brief moment of serenity before the injections began again. Couldn't be having that, now. Kurotsuchi reached forward and with a snap of his wrist, drew Szayel's head to face him. Out of instinct, or was that possibly exasperation, he reopened his eyes to stare upon the Taichou.
"You continue to seek escape; why is this. There is no chance in the slightest that you will be freed. This facility is impossible to escape."
The Twelfth Division Taichou stated in semi-bored monotone, gripping Szayel's face tightly by the jaw. The Arrancar stared a moment longer, before doing something he hadn't bothered to in months. The slightest of smirks touched his chapped and split lips.
"Impossible…to escape…must…. mean…that…it is…perfect."
Mayuri Kurotsuchi's eye twitched, his grip tightened and the long black-painted nail on his right hand dug into the flesh along Szayel's jawbone.
"You are an experiment; your rhetoric means naught within the Seireitei, Espada!"
Grantz merely kept his light smirk, knowing that for once he had gotten the better of his shinigami scientific counterpart.
"There…is no…perfection…Shinigami Taichou…" He rasped, lips and throat drier than the most abrasive of deserts. Kurotsuchi listened to all of this, hanging on every word. He could barely contain his rage at the blatant mockery he was being sustained of, but he wished to hear the finish.
"Perfection…I have…already…gained…perfection…" Szayel spoke, words barely higher than a whisper. Kurotsuchi scoffed slightly.
"Perfection does not exist! How could you possibly have obtained impossibility?" His voice was barely above a hiss, mind racing for any possibility within Szayel having become perfect. He was a naked and nearly dead former Espada laying on a dissection table. Where was his perfection?
"Perfection…is within…imperfection…" Szayel spoke, smirking a bit more now.
"Perfection…is the…possibility…to advance…evolve…to become…a being…greater than…oneself…" He stated with a rasping voice, Kurotsuchi moving ever closer. Flickers of both wrath and interest passed through his golden eyes as he stared upon the fallen Espada.
"…You…you are…able…to advance…beyond your…current level…"
He chuckled, eyes once again regaining the sharpest of gazes.
"You…are…perfection…" Szayel Apollo Grantz finished, dealing a final blow to Mayuri Kurotsuchi's logic. A tightening of Kurotsuchi's grip of Grantz's throat displayed his anger, his rage at this…lesser being…for attempting to insult him with his own past words. It had been examined thoroughly; there was nothing left to examine for scientific purposes. He had kept Grantz just for the amusement of seeing a self-absorbed hollow being brought down to Earth. What would he do to this…this thing, before he killed it? What would be the utmost disgrace and shame for an Espada? The highest humiliation possible?
An idea clicked in his mind. Kurotsuchi's grip around Grantz's throat lessened, allowing Szayel to breath again. Instead, his long nail trailed down from his throat, sliding down his chest and his stomach.
"I know what you Espada despise most." the Taichou of Twelfth spoke in a growl, nail digging into flesh as it traced to the Hollow scientist's hips. Szayel's face pinched slightly at the minimal pain, but Kurotsuchi's words struck something within him that made the smirk disappear like smoke. An epiphany of the absolute worst type.
"N…No…!!" He gasped, the former Espada's fears realized as the clawed finger was forced inside of him, digging into the flesh and bringing blood. His body stiffened, once effeminately handsome face tightening in pain.
"Yes, I know what Hollows themselves despise." Kurotsuchi growled, twisting his digit to Szayel's discomfort. He stepped around to stand at the fellow scientist's feet, expression hidden behind his mask.
"Hollows despise being controlled. I've seen it before; how they lash out when I try to hold them in my labs for examination. I very well saw it when the remnants of your fellow Espada were dragged in after that fool Aizen was killed; how the few left lashed out at the cages, even if their powers were sealed. Even as they were executed, the beasts snarled and spat at the shinigami swinging down the zanpakuto that would end their pitiful existences." The Taichou narrated, shoving his finger in all the way to the knuckle as he did. Grantz arched his back, gritting his teeth at the searing ache caused by the small actions of Kurotsuchi's. The former Octava was absolutely helpless; it was a feeling he had become accustomed to in the past year, but had never learned to tolerate. He loathed the feeling, the knowledge that someone else was playing God over him.
"And what way is more effective to control a being, than to force them to act in a manner they despise? A forced sexual manner ensures that the subject feels used and filthy afterwards. Most effective." He continued his soliloquy, randomly tearing out his finger and listening astutely to the sharp hiss of pain the hollow scientist emitted.
"Ugh...barbaric shinigami..." Szayel spat, even as his voice wavered. Mayuri Kurotsuchi scoffed, shoving two fingers in this time.
"You seem to forget that you are indeed a hollow, the disgusting soul-devouring beasts that plague the shinigami populous and cause me to be forced to leave the lab on occasion. Do not lie and insist that you have never done the same, filth." the shinigami stated dismissively, once again randomly going to the knuckle. This time, his stab hit something and Szayel's vision blacked out a moment, an gasp that was very obvious not to be from pain escaping him. Kurotsuchi immediately hit the area again, watching his captive's face twist in unwanted pleasure and obvious agony. He continued to do so for a few moments, as the nude hollow's arousal was made apparent by his growing erection. At the last moment, he tore his fingers free to shred flesh in the process, dragging his hakama down far enough to draw free his own member and drive it deep within the hollow scientist, gripping the edge of the table as Szayel muffled a shout of agony. If Nemu were to walk in right about now, it would most likely dimly surprise but altogether not particularly bother her to see her father on top of the captive he seemed to loathe. The Fukutaichou of the Twelfth Division had seen nearly everything; very, very little could even dimly surprise her.
"Where is your insisting of my 'Perfection' at this moment, hollow?" Kurotsuchi queried, giving the first thrust. Szayel couldn't help the outcry he gave at the action; it was worse than the year of torture. The feeling of being owned and used and controlled was maddening as thrust after thrust came, causing him to arch his back. Eventually, Kurotsuchi found and struck the area from earlier once more, causing Grantz to let out a sharp, strangled moan. Damn the shinigami. Damn him for deciding to do this; to rape him, own him, control him. Damn him for giving the complete feeling of disgust and the knowledge that a shinigami was controlling and using him right now. Sure, he had almost never been interested in sex back in Hueco Mundo. Las Noches, to be precise. But occasionally...in few, few moments...he would draw the fifth Espada into his lab, allow Jiruga to have his way and then leave. To stave off the urges that distracted him from his work so eagerly.
The thrusts came at a steady pace, bringing forth hisses and groans from the hollow. Kurotsuchi remained mostly silent other than ragged breathing. Eventually, the thrusts found and struck upon the area from earlier, bringing forth a strangled moan from the once Espada. The area was struck again and again, the hollow echoing groans and cries of a different sort as he was brought closer and closer to release. Kurotsuchi's hands had moved from the table to Grantz's waist, nails drawing blood as he dug them into the frail being's flesh and thrusted repeatedly, further and deeper to make the beast cry out again and again. Szayel merely gripped the edge of the table as far as his restraints would allow him, arching his back and merely waiting for the eventual release and the white haze accompanying it. He did not have to wait long as they both came together, Kurotsuchi filling the hollow with warmth and grunting while Grantz cried out one last time, staining both his stomach and the front of Kurotsuchi's shihakusho. Mayuri could have sworn he heard a quick, panted 'Nnoitra', but he couldn't be sure. No matter.
Waiting a moment to catch his breath, Kurotsuchi drew out and did himself up before walking easily to the panting, exhausted Espada. He drew Ashisogi Jizo and laid it to the hollow's throat, speaking dismissively.
"Where is your perfection right now, indeed." The slice was made, and Szayel's head dropped as blood stained the room, mixing with the stain on the front of his shihakusho. Nemu walked in at that precise moment, seeing her father sheathe his zanpakuto and turn to her, scowling again.
"Drop that and get to cleaning and removing the corpse, you imbecile!" He spat, as she set the box down with a 'Hai' and began to clean. He walked out of the lab with purpose, tossing back a "I'm going to my office, and it had better be cleaned up when I return, you useless idiot!!" to her as he walked down the hallway, a couple of the Twelfth Division shinigami practically diving out of his way as he went to get changed. He came to his office and walked in, slamming the door behind him with a shuddering finality.
((AN:...Wow...that was...yeah...reviews, even though I doubt it?))