![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
denticity.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: come at traitors' calls
Author/Artist:![[info]](../../img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
denticity
Rating: PG
Warnings: See prompt.
Prompt: Bleach, Aizen/Gin: PDAs - a man must get his amusements where he can
Word count: About 730
come at traitors' calls
Flattery with the tongue is a pursuit for those not worth the time, Aizen said once. The words fell like flower petals and the sun lit them from behind, the sun that wasn't a sun that was Aizen shining shining shining, and you could see all the veins like the ones in the backs of Gin's hands.
Gin wondered what he meant by flattery, and didn't know.
(For all intents and purposes, everyone's purposes, the purposes they'll sing, Gin doesn't know where from or to. Gin should sing. Gin floats about and unfolds the snakes.)
Aizen only does useful things, he says. Gin knows what 'useful' means, and that's something, ain't it—whatever Aizen wants to do, right, whatever the hell he feels like. Maybe it'd be nice to be able to do that, Gin muses, as he flicks Shinsou round and wonders what'd happen if he pointed it right at them, all bright and shiny (bang, you're dead!).
Gin never liked the word 'flattery' anyway. It sounds like something people with no sense of fun do.
So Aizen doesn't use his tongue to flatter. But there's not a word for what he does with it, when it goes along Gin's veins and Gin's smiles and finds a thousand doors in a thousand walls. Ten thousand walls, with the gaps where you shoot the arrows out. It traces chains around Gin's wrists and scars over everywhere and it feels like it goes all the way through sometimes. Gin thinks, isn't it cutting through important bits, like the tendons in his heels and his liver and his own tongue.
(He mustn't need them any more. He must only need them till the next time.)
See, Aizen does it a lot. He likes to stand in front of his little table with his little army lined up all-in-a-row, (it's one by one that way, bang-bang-bang) and he puts Gin in front of him so the only thing Gin stands behind is his smile.
Gin's smile does him well, you know. It hides things like a fennel-branch hides fire, so nobody knows that Gin's planning exactly how to spill the blood so it'll make pretty flower-petal patterns on the floor. And they're all watching Aizen, anyway.
Aizen puts his hands round Gin's wrists and slides them slow-ly up his arms. It makes a funny swishing noise on Gin's sleeves.
"Gin," he murmurs, his pretty lips curving into a pretty smile on Gin's pretty pale skin. His fingers paint marks under the edges of Gin's jackets and if you look at it right they probably look like stars. "What are you thinking of?"
He likes to do this as much as he likes to spin the desert slowly around his little finger, or sit on his throne and drink his water laced with wine. Gin thinks he likes to know that he's got the answer and whatever Gin says will be wrong.
The fingers slip down the centre of his chest and draw a tiny little circle over the bump on the breast-bone.
"Flowers," Gin says, and tilts his head back and sees it all. The grin slithers its way wider, further: smiling Gin, lying Gin (he waits for sin). It's the artificial continuity of Aizen's amusement , because Aizen is pleased.
Gin never had any illusions about why Aizen likes to do this where everyone can see his smile shine and his breath stir Gin's hair. Oh no, he laughs, he knows far too much for that. It's because Aizen wants to. There's no other reason than that it just amuses him. (Gin could think of some to lie about, probably, but there's no one around to tell them to.)
And so Gin smiles too. He likes Aizen when he's amused. That's when he says really funny things to other people. He's clever, Aizen-taichou—he knows all the right words and exactly the right way to say them.
He knows, too, exactly the right place to put his hands and his mouth and his smiles, to make Gin shiver and the audience stir (with confusion or shame or jealousy or all of it). He fits his hands to Gin's ribs and his mood to Gin's words.
Soon, Gin will probably say something really clever and Aizen will smile extra brightly when his teeth draw up the blood under Gin's neck.
(Soon.)
Author/Artist:
denticityRating: PG
Warnings: See prompt.
Prompt: Bleach, Aizen/Gin: PDAs - a man must get his amusements where he can
Word count: About 730
Flattery with the tongue is a pursuit for those not worth the time, Aizen said once. The words fell like flower petals and the sun lit them from behind, the sun that wasn't a sun that was Aizen shining shining shining, and you could see all the veins like the ones in the backs of Gin's hands.
Gin wondered what he meant by flattery, and didn't know.
(For all intents and purposes, everyone's purposes, the purposes they'll sing, Gin doesn't know where from or to. Gin should sing. Gin floats about and unfolds the snakes.)
Aizen only does useful things, he says. Gin knows what 'useful' means, and that's something, ain't it—whatever Aizen wants to do, right, whatever the hell he feels like. Maybe it'd be nice to be able to do that, Gin muses, as he flicks Shinsou round and wonders what'd happen if he pointed it right at them, all bright and shiny (bang, you're dead!).
Gin never liked the word 'flattery' anyway. It sounds like something people with no sense of fun do.
So Aizen doesn't use his tongue to flatter. But there's not a word for what he does with it, when it goes along Gin's veins and Gin's smiles and finds a thousand doors in a thousand walls. Ten thousand walls, with the gaps where you shoot the arrows out. It traces chains around Gin's wrists and scars over everywhere and it feels like it goes all the way through sometimes. Gin thinks, isn't it cutting through important bits, like the tendons in his heels and his liver and his own tongue.
(He mustn't need them any more. He must only need them till the next time.)
See, Aizen does it a lot. He likes to stand in front of his little table with his little army lined up all-in-a-row, (it's one by one that way, bang-bang-bang) and he puts Gin in front of him so the only thing Gin stands behind is his smile.
Gin's smile does him well, you know. It hides things like a fennel-branch hides fire, so nobody knows that Gin's planning exactly how to spill the blood so it'll make pretty flower-petal patterns on the floor. And they're all watching Aizen, anyway.
Aizen puts his hands round Gin's wrists and slides them slow-ly up his arms. It makes a funny swishing noise on Gin's sleeves.
"Gin," he murmurs, his pretty lips curving into a pretty smile on Gin's pretty pale skin. His fingers paint marks under the edges of Gin's jackets and if you look at it right they probably look like stars. "What are you thinking of?"
He likes to do this as much as he likes to spin the desert slowly around his little finger, or sit on his throne and drink his water laced with wine. Gin thinks he likes to know that he's got the answer and whatever Gin says will be wrong.
The fingers slip down the centre of his chest and draw a tiny little circle over the bump on the breast-bone.
"Flowers," Gin says, and tilts his head back and sees it all. The grin slithers its way wider, further: smiling Gin, lying Gin (he waits for sin). It's the artificial continuity of Aizen's amusement , because Aizen is pleased.
Gin never had any illusions about why Aizen likes to do this where everyone can see his smile shine and his breath stir Gin's hair. Oh no, he laughs, he knows far too much for that. It's because Aizen wants to. There's no other reason than that it just amuses him. (Gin could think of some to lie about, probably, but there's no one around to tell them to.)
And so Gin smiles too. He likes Aizen when he's amused. That's when he says really funny things to other people. He's clever, Aizen-taichou—he knows all the right words and exactly the right way to say them.
He knows, too, exactly the right place to put his hands and his mouth and his smiles, to make Gin shiver and the audience stir (with confusion or shame or jealousy or all of it). He fits his hands to Gin's ribs and his mood to Gin's words.
Soon, Gin will probably say something really clever and Aizen will smile extra brightly when his teeth draw up the blood under Gin's neck.
(Soon.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}