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valmoraTitle: a relatively uneventful photo shoot (there was, after all, neither tentacles nor traumatic death)
Rating: PG-13 except for a small bit of language
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: a breaks-the-fourth-wall Aizen Sousuke/Ichimaru Gin
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Inspired by this piece of art at this site. Related to an earlier piece I did based on the photo-shoot idea, but you don't need to have read that one to understand this. Also, the other one was Grimmjaw/Il Forte as well as 53.
"This is what we in the media politely refer to as an exercise in humility," Gio says, imitating the tone of Sinclair's voice. "That is, letting others humiliate you."
"Thanks," Sinclair drawls, his voice empty of all the usual undercurrents of over-thought and calculation, the sarcasm like a fresh breeze in comparison to his usual stifled-ammonia cadences. "Fuck, I'm tired."
Gio smirks and crosses his legs. The cat in his lap wakes up, kneads his thigh a bit with declawed paws, and goes back to sleep. "You're acting funny," he says. "I feel like you. Evil villain and all, with this pretty white cat. Very 007."
"I'm hardly a moll," Sinclair says. "For one, you don't pay me for my bedroom services."
"Isn't my presence payment enough?" Gio asks, flippant, grinning at the camerawoman who has missed the entire conversation.
Sinclair leans his head on Gio's shoulder to hide the smile, hair hanging into his eyes. "Not sure," he remarks, closing his eyes against the flash of the lightbulb. "I think for that I might owe you."
Gio can feel his grin fading into something shocked, something terrified and vulnerable and hungry, and pushes Sinclair away despite the carmerawoman hissing at him to Stop it and Please, sit back down, these photographs will only take another moment and then you can go.
"I need some coffee," he snaps. "Do something else for a half an hour. Fix your damn camera faster or something."
"Gio," Sinclair says, looking up at him with an expression of impatience but something darker, sweeter, staring out of his eyes. "Do stay. You can have coffee afterwards."
Fuck you he almost says to that voice that lies as effortlessly as Sinclair's character is supposed to, but the words stop in his throat, caught up in his body. Instead he says, "You're making me behave. I think that's a crime against personality. Doesn't Oscar Wilde have something about that? Letting others dictate your actions is a crime." But he sits down anyway, and doesn't fail to notice the way Sinclair wraps an arm around his waist, proprietary. Nothing soft or tired about him now, and it sends a low pulse through Gio's body.
"Probably," Sinclair says. "But some crimes are worth the punishment."
Rating: PG-13 except for a small bit of language
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: a breaks-the-fourth-wall Aizen Sousuke/Ichimaru Gin
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Inspired by this piece of art at this site. Related to an earlier piece I did based on the photo-shoot idea, but you don't need to have read that one to understand this. Also, the other one was Grimmjaw/Il Forte as well as 53.
"This is what we in the media politely refer to as an exercise in humility," Gio says, imitating the tone of Sinclair's voice. "That is, letting others humiliate you."
"Thanks," Sinclair drawls, his voice empty of all the usual undercurrents of over-thought and calculation, the sarcasm like a fresh breeze in comparison to his usual stifled-ammonia cadences. "Fuck, I'm tired."
Gio smirks and crosses his legs. The cat in his lap wakes up, kneads his thigh a bit with declawed paws, and goes back to sleep. "You're acting funny," he says. "I feel like you. Evil villain and all, with this pretty white cat. Very 007."
"I'm hardly a moll," Sinclair says. "For one, you don't pay me for my bedroom services."
"Isn't my presence payment enough?" Gio asks, flippant, grinning at the camerawoman who has missed the entire conversation.
Sinclair leans his head on Gio's shoulder to hide the smile, hair hanging into his eyes. "Not sure," he remarks, closing his eyes against the flash of the lightbulb. "I think for that I might owe you."
Gio can feel his grin fading into something shocked, something terrified and vulnerable and hungry, and pushes Sinclair away despite the carmerawoman hissing at him to Stop it and Please, sit back down, these photographs will only take another moment and then you can go.
"I need some coffee," he snaps. "Do something else for a half an hour. Fix your damn camera faster or something."
"Gio," Sinclair says, looking up at him with an expression of impatience but something darker, sweeter, staring out of his eyes. "Do stay. You can have coffee afterwards."
Fuck you he almost says to that voice that lies as effortlessly as Sinclair's character is supposed to, but the words stop in his throat, caught up in his body. Instead he says, "You're making me behave. I think that's a crime against personality. Doesn't Oscar Wilde have something about that? Letting others dictate your actions is a crime." But he sits down anyway, and doesn't fail to notice the way Sinclair wraps an arm around his waist, proprietary. Nothing soft or tired about him now, and it sends a low pulse through Gio's body.
"Probably," Sinclair says. "But some crimes are worth the punishment."
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Date: 2007-03-28 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
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