Log; Complete

[thunderwitch.livejournal.com]

When; April 9th [backdated]
Rating; PG-13/R
Characters; Cirucci {thunderwitch} & Raphael {brokenbeliefs}
Summary; The Chief of Virtues has a certain price tag for the healing of female patients, but for some treatments, patients can be more than willing to pay.
Log;

Cirucci could talk. And it was the loveliest feeling she could recall in a long, long, while. It had only been... how many days had it been? Six, seven, eight... nine. For all her whining and complaining, it had only been nine days, but to her it had seemed an endless eternity. She was a vocal thing, of social needs and conversation, and having to open her mouth and find no words was something that wounded her as much as a blade could. All she had been able to do was screech, shriek, and emit small sounds that couldn't be formed into anything meaningful.

It didn't help that their healer, Aizen-sama's pet, had refused to heal her, when she knew she could, could reverse the loss of her tongue as easily as one could say a few words. That was where this man, this angel, Raphael, came in. A healer, it had taken her a few days for the tongue to return, but it had worked, and Cirucci did so love the sound of her own voice. This was why though she was slightly hesitant, she did not make a practice of sleeping with anyone who was not Arrancar, was not a member of her makeshift family, she didn’t mind as much.

He was rather good looking, she supposed, which was a blessing. And it seemed he would at least be experienced, considering that the price he'd asked for his help was sex. But, who was she to complain of that price? With a final shrug, Cirucci approached the angel's residence, a smirk on her lips as she knocked once upon the door.

The dimensions of the firehouse where the angels… and Lucifer made their temporary home did not match the exterior. It looked rather smaller on the outside, but when you actually set foot inside the building, you would be amazed at how large the interior was. Well, it had to be, considering how many people that lived in the firehouse and the fact that they would not step on each other's toes. This point is especially important as Michael tends to be offended very easily.

It seemed that everyone was sticking to their particular rooms the day, so Raphael found himself in the 'living room' waiting for his guest alone. It was in a way, a blessing; at least Michael was not there to call him names. He waited less than ten minutes when he heard a knock on the door. It must be her, unless Alexiel scheduled in a visit, which Raphael doubted. Alexiel would have just made her way in without knocking. It was not as if the door was locked in the first place anyway.

Helping Cirucci regenerate her tongue was a rather tricky feat as it had been several days since she lost it, but all Raphael had needed to do was to encourage the healing cells there that it was in their best interest to regenerate instead of just healing. Thus, half the battle is won, the rest was just time.

He got up and opened the door, giving the Arrancar a smile. There was nothing warm in that smile though, “Good evening.”

"It is now~" Cirucci answered smoothly, her smirk twisting into a softer expression, a smile on her own painted lips now, though just as the angel's held no warmth, neither did hers. It was a wicked expression that promised whispers and moans, but no emotion, no love, no affection, and no heart. After all, there was a hole straight through her chest, just below and between her breasts. It occurred to her that she hoped that didn't throw him off as her lack of tongue had thrown off some of her brothers. Well, that would be confronted later, she supposed.

"I find you well, I hope, Raphael?~" It was clear in her voice that the most happiness she had at the moment was in that she had a voice. She enjoyed the sound, the lilt, the crooning, sultry, undertone. As she spoke the Privaron ran one hand through her thick black hair, eyeing the residence behind the angel from the door. The size and layout suggested he did not live alone, which disconcerted her only slightly, it wasn't like she had a problem with other people being around while she paid for her healing, or a problem per se with voyeurism, but it was something of a secret shame to Cirucci to sleep outside the family, with other beings, though at least her saving grace with the angel was that he was not mortal, and not shinigami. She could deal, and for the result? She lightly licked her bottom lip. She was happy to pay.

Her comment made Raphael's smile a little warmer, though he doubted that it was sincere. All women were like this, hiding their true nature behind innocent smiles and kind words. But he did not mind, millenniums had made him numb to the fact.

The blond angel stepped aside to allow her in. “I am well. What about yourself? I see that your tongue has healed rather nicely,” Raphael said, stating the obvious. Before she could say anything, the Chief of Virtues bent down a little, until his eye level is at the same level as her lips. “Does it feel numb? It would probably feel normal in another day or so.”

As the Arrancar stepped inside she reached out a hand, clad in long, fingerless white gloves, to dance briefly across the angel's chest in a teasing gesture. She took another quick look about before pausing at Raphael's words, standing with hip cocked.

"I have to be careful with it." It took a bit of concentration, it seemed sad she was, at this point, used to working with a cauterized stump. But it was working, and that was all that mattered to her. She smiled, more wicked than before as she brushed her fingers against Raphael's hair, soft and fine. "As long as I can insult the one who took my tongue as I rip the life from her I am perfectly happy, darling." The very idea, the very image in her mind of killing that shinigami made her grip on Raphael's hair tighten for the briefest moment before she realized what she was doing and released him with a small apology.

Raphael liked what he saw. Cirucci was a sensuous being, all silk and steel. She was rather like Michael with her thirst for carnage, but that was where the similarities ended. From what he could glean through their exchanges, the angel knew that whichever shinigami it was that cut out her tongue was not going to be let off easily. Not that he cared.

"Of course, regenerating a tongue is far trickier than a leg or an arm, but I am glad that it is recovering nicely," he said, catching the hand that gripped his hair gently. His words contradicted with his actions. "… Would you like to have something to drink while we chat? Or would you rather get this over with?" It was just the way Raphael was, painfully straightforward, not to mention socially inept. He could be charming, but that only during the rare occasions when he was in a good mood, which he was never in since his arrival in the City.

"Whichever you prefer, darling." The Privaron murmured, finely trimmed nails moving lightly over his hand. "But don't say 'get this over with', hmm?" She waved her other hand in a dismissive gesture. "Makes it sound so... boring. And I assure you, it won't be." That sounded something like a promise.

"But-" Cirucci recalled a certain order from her master about investigating the angels. And while her idea of investigating did sometimes involve working her way into someone's bed, (it was so easy, sometimes, to get answers afterward), she appreciated conversation as well. She did love to talk. "A chat and drink would be lovely, and I promise not to speak on fashion and make-ups, as requested."

"My apologies then… have a seat," Raphael said, gesturing to the odd collection of furniture in their makeshift living room. It was rather obvious that he was not used to handling guests. It was usually his assistant, Barbiel who took care of the tiny details for him.

"I'll go get us something to drink. Coffee or tea? … Would you rather talk in my room?" Raphael was not sure whether Cirucci minded the presence of his fellow… housemates, just in case they decided to leave their rooms, or she preferred somewhere more private. He did not know
her preferences, only her name and the fact that she has a rather bloodthirsty streak.
"You've roommates, so perhaps your room would be best." Cirucci suggested, perching lightly on the edge of a couch, one leg hanging off the side and kicking lightly as she looked down to adjust the black garter.
"As for drinks..." She paused. It wasn't often she indulged in food or drink. She ate souls, naturally, but was forced to deal with human food more and more often for her sustenance. Many things she'd never had, or, at least, could not remember having, she was sure she must have when she was human. Tea was something often served in Hueco Mundo, but...
"Coffee." She finally answered, idly reaching up to begin letting down her hair from the two tails, black waves curling about her face.
As he watched her adjust her garter, a familiar mixture of desire and contempt arose and a frown touched his face for a second before Raphael realized it and changed it into the usual expressions that everyone was used to seeing and expected from him – vaguely disinterest bordering on boredom.

"Got it. My room's on the second floor, the third on the right," the Chief of Virtues said as he made his way into their pantry. At least he was certain that they had coffee. He was literally addicted to caffeine and could not think to start the day without at least a cup.
"Mm, alright~" The Privaron rose gracefully, always was light on her feet, and swayed, hips moving in a soft motion, up the stairs, to the third room on the right. It was a bit plain, but she wasn't really in any position to complain, or judge. She kept lavish residence, a hedonistic tendency, but she hardly expected everyone to have her taste. Nails skimmed lightly over the few furnishings, finally dancing along the headboard, tapping with a nod. She supposed, if Orihime continued to be unavailable, and she continued to find herself in situations where she got injured, she would possibly become acquainted with this room.
With a shrug Cirucci sat down on the bed to wait, legs crossing and adjusting the garter on the other leg, smoothing short skirt and letting the last bit of her hair from it's tie, pouting as she looked up to find a lock of it tangled about the four spikes of the bone mask remnant she bore.
It did not too long for the brew to be ready. Most of the time was wasted on preparing the beans. Raphael insisted on freshly grounded coffee only. Snatching two random mugs, he poured the steaming hot coffee into the two. The smell that emanated through the entire pantry
was just heavenly, pun fully intended. He heaped the two mugs and a bowl of sugar onto a tray and made his way back to his room.

It was lucky for him that Cirucci left the door ajar, he used his foot to nudge the door wider before entering his room. He placed the tray on his desk, "I hope you do not mind your coffee black. I couldn't find any milk."
"I don't know." Cirucci answered, cocking her head to the side and watching the drink, as if it may bite. "I've never had it, so I suppose I'll find out, hmm?" She raised herself off the bed, reaching out and delicately grabbing one mug, pale hands encircling and smiling slightly at the heat. She'd seen Grimmjow drink it before, but she had never. With a small shrug and a flip of her head to get a strand of hair from her face, the Arrancar sipped a bit of the drink. And blinked.
"Strong." She commented, sitting back down and recrossing her legs, the mug cradled in her two hands. "You drink it often?" The Privaron asked, watching him closely, looking for leads and cues. Part of her was knowing what men wanted, what they were looking for.
"I practically survive on it," Raphael said, taking a sip. Finding it at an acceptable temperature, he took a larger gulp before setting it down aside. He passed her the bowl of sugar. "People usually drink it with sugar, if it is too bitter, try some." It was a little strange that she had not tasted coffee before, but then again she was from another world.

He looked at her legs crossing and inhaled sharply. She was just like other women, sinful, maybe even more so than others. Raphael shifted his attention to her face, lest he be upset. Sara's words may have changed they way he viewed women, but it was not easy to change one's
mindset, especially when it has been so for years.

"So, is there anything you want to particularly talk about?" Raphael did not mind knowing her, but he is hard-pressed to reveal anything on himself if not asked.
She had been doing this a long time, practically since becoming Arrancar and regaining a humanoid form. And with that experience came a bit of knowledge. She shifted on the bed, allowing short dress, white, a pure color, trimmed in black, to ride slightly higher on her thighs.
"Well..." Cirucci looked up, untangling the lock of hair from her bone mask before accepting the bowl, daintily picking out a small portion of sugar, placing it in her drink, and tasting. Better. She added a liberal amount, nodding in satisfaction. Sweet things. "What do angels do?~" She finally crooned, kicking her small booted foot in a slow rocking, leaning back and watching him. "Cirucci has never met one, and we don't have them in my world."
As determined as he was, Raphael resolve melted as he watched her. He wanted her, and badly. But he could wait until Cirruci decides she had enough of chatting. The Chief of Virtues took another gulp from his mug, as his eyes followed the hem of her dress. How ironic, the thought flitted through his mind momentarily as he took in the color of her dress. It was rather impractical, especially for one who enjoys hurting others, but it was not his place to comment.

"We mainly do whatever that is asked of by God, or his representative… our ex-Prime Minister – Sevothtarte. ‘He' runs the show for Metatron. My job mainly deals with healing." Raphael itched for a cigarette.
Cirucci wanted to see how far she could push before he would take initiative. Wanted to know what it would take. It was something of a game, a hobby, to her, to tease men, test them. She listened, though, filing away the information, after all, her master had asked for information on the angels. Taking another sip of her sweetened coffee, the Arrancar nodded.
"I'll trade you~" She murmured, referring to the information as she set her coffee aside. She smirked, or was it a smile? "We serve Aizen-sama, first ranked Espada, then the Privaron Espada, and then the Numeros." She reached to the front of her dress, slowly undoing the snaps and dragging the white fabric away until she had reached her midsection. Fingers drew the fabric back, revealing the inner curve of her breasts, and, more disconcerting, the hole straight through her body just below and between her breasts, evidence of what she was. "Arrancar, created from Hollows, hollow beings who cannot love. Heartless."
Raphael took another sharp intake of breath as Cirucci began undoing her clothing. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the hole at her midsection. The surprise quickly turned into curiosity as the doctor in him took over. He took a seat besides the Privaron and looked at
the hole. The was no signs that it was hurting or in anyway discomforting to his companion… and as far as Raphael could tell, he could see no organs, or the spine where it should be. Even at the edge of the hole, it was covered flesh and skin, as if was… natural.

"May I?" the angel said, querying whether he was allowed to touch the hole. "You've mentioned that Aizen was your 'master'? So, he was responsible for… 'this'?"
"Aizen-sama is responsible for making most Arrancar." Cirucci answered, voice dropping a bit lower than before, nodding in the angel's direction in permission for him to touch as he liked. But she sort of braced herself, knowing what her reaction would be. The hole left in her was... sensitive.
"Privaron, we made ourselves. Ripped off our own masks." She moved one arm to run her fingers lightly over her bone mask remnant. "We revert to a humanoid form, with our mask bits and the hole leftover from our Hollow selves." She drew back the fabric more to allow the angel better access. "Our true forms are sealed into swords." Another look, this time at the blade by her hip, always with her, because it was her. "And what about Raphael?" The Privaron recrossed her legs. "Did God make angels, then?"
The blond angel nodded to let her know that he was still listening and he ran his fingers (though it seemed more like he was caressing her) along the edges gently. It felt just like skin as far as he could tell. How curious. How was the placement of the organs? Did it work around the hole… or was the Arrancar just all flesh and blood? He remembered her mentioning somewhere that Hollows were merely souls of those who could not be saved. Would that be the explanation?
Endless theories came to mind. Raphael pushed them to a side. He wanted to enjoy her company fully. With that in mind, he pulled back.

"Wouldn't that make the Privaron better than the Espada?" he queried, as he watched her touch what he first thought was an accessory. Raphael followed her gaze to her sword, but he did not say anything. "Me? Our God goes by YHWH and yes; he created us, and the universe,
Earth as well as everything in it." He left out the part where their said 'God' created everything just to test out an equation that he fashioned.
It took a while for her to respond, having shuddered quite obviously at the contact of fingers on the rim of her Hollow hole, barely able to suppress a breathy noise almost like a moan. The holes left were exceedingly sensitive to pleasure and pain, and something... almost intimate. Well, it depended on who one was dealing with in that respect. But the Arrancar focused once again, not bothering to close her dress.
"... No. The ones Aizen-sama created have potential to be stronger than Privaron. ... We were demoted when he created the new Espada." That was annoying to think about, so she quickly switched gears. "YHWH..." Cirucci rolled the word off her tongue, just because she could, and also because it sounded foreign and strange to her. "You obeyed him?" After all, it seemed logical to her, considering she... well, usually obeyed her god-figure.
Raphael took notice of her sensitivity and placed it aside for later… uses. From her rather obvious annoyance at the demotion, he decided that this would be one topic that he should never bring up again. "For a few millenniums, yes. We were mostly left to our own devices." The angel shrugged, "But he is dead now, killed by the messiah and Lucifer of my world," he said nonchalantly. "I could not say that I'm not glad that he's gone though."

"… So, what exactly do you do back in your world?"
"Kill." Cirucci answered promptly, flopping down onto her back and staring up at him as she spoke, hand maneuvering her sword onto her stomach so as the sheathe wouldn't dig into her back, black nails tapping light little maneuvers across the hilt.
"We kill shinigami for Aizen-sama, and follow his orders." In the City... things were different. But home in Hueco Mundo... he was god. "Well, we do that, and also just fuck around." She meant that both figuratively and literally. "After all, can't kill all the time."
From what Cirucci told so far, Raphael gathered that the Arrancar and the Shinigami were enemies. His eyes automatically focused on her lips. Did a Shinigami do that to her? Must have. The angel's gaze followed her as she lied down, involuntarily trying to catch more than
a glimpse of her lithe body.

"It sounds a little like my life back then," Raphael admitted, understating his words. The Chief of Virtues has a nice ring to it, but the title rang hollow after a few millenniums. He was basically a
glorified healer. "Even killing gets boring after some time," the blond said.

"Well..." Cirucci smirked. She finally laid her sword to the side, out of the way, stretching languidly, and, certainly not involuntarily showing even more skin. Taking her time, she let her boots fall to the floor off the edge of the bed, leaving her stockings for now. One hand returned to the hole in her chest, touching lightly before dipping down to the remaining clasps of her dress, eyes hooded, watching, as she slowly began to undo them. "That's what other things are for, when killing gets boring." The Privaron murmured invitingly. She couldn't deny he was attractive, and though no Arrancar... exceedingly useful. She wouldn't mind terribly.

It did not take him long to catch on. Coupled with years of debauchery and experience it is safe to say that Raphael is rather good at reading women. He shifted and placed his hands on both side of the Arrancar, effectively trapping her. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at her. "Oh? What other 'things'?" Raphael said teasingly.

"Come now, Raphael." The Privaron murmured, not ceasing slowly undoing the clasps on the dress, slowly working down, eyes still lidded, half unreadable, voice dipping huskily. "Surely you know, after all, you did ask for this, didn't you?" She raised herself up slightly to kiss lightly at the underside of his throat, though it ended with more of a small lick. Had to make use of what she'd bought back, after all.

A smirk answered her questions. Raphael used one hand to unbutton the buttons on his shirt as he watched her undo the few last snaps of her dress. He already decided that liked what he saw of her when she came in for healing the other day and his interest only peaked. The angel
allowed her to do as she liked, fully absorbed in watching her. She was the first to tease him in a long, long time.

"What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Cirucci smirked, one leg snaking in between them, foot stroking gently against his thigh. "I think..." Her hand ceased undoing the clasps of her dress once she reached the naval, hand instead reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, nipping lightly at his ear. "I think there's me, for starters~" She had never claimed not to be a selfish woman, and what she loved, something she craved and usually achieved in this manner, was attention.

Action speaks louder than words. He smirked again as he pushed the locks that strayed onto her face. The blond angel nibbled lightly along her collarbone, ending every nibble with a kiss. Raphael slowly worked his way down, stopping when he reached her navel. With one last
kiss, he glanced up at his partner. "This would have to go," he said in a teasing manner, tugging the last of her snaps off.

A light noise was her only response to that statement, a noise, she was fully conscious of, that would not be possible were there not a whole tongue in her mouth. It was quite easy for her, she did it often enough, after all, to shrug out of her uniform, and another easy maneuver to abruptly switch her leg from stroking against the angel's thigh to kicking out his knee support, one hand on his shoulder pushing to the side so that in a brief moment the Arrancar had managed to find herself on top, clad now only in her long white gloves and stockings. Cirucci smirked down at him. "Let's see you earn this, Raphael." She crooned. And she was quite up for the challenge.

She completely took him by surprise and he found himself under her as she straddled him. It was not often than Raphael had a partner who knew what she was doing and wanted, so it a novelty. Most of his angelic partners are usually passive, preferring that he took the lead. But he found that he quite liked his partners to take the initiative as well. "Oh? I thought I more than earned it," the Chief of Virtues said, taking the chance to admire her silhouette. But since she offered the challenge, Raphael was not about to back down. He reached out to touch her cheek for while before using the same hand to pull her down next to him. Leaning on his elbow, Raphael gave her a lazy smile.

Cirucci allowed it, not wanting to be entirely too feisty. After all... this was no Arrancar partner, no male to leave her battered, bleeding... The Privaron had a penchant for lovers of the more violent variety, and she inflicted her own share of marks in the bedroom. But she had to remember not to this time. Gentle.

As she moved closer once more to press against him, lips moving feverishly, hungrily, against his own, she took a moment to let her mouth twist into a wicked, sensual, line.

"Then take it."