The Brevity of Your Arms - Depressed_Lemon_Bite (2024)

Chapter 1: Five Years Waiting

Chapter Text

Chasing after prey had always been something he despised. It was boring and tedious work. Work that took planning and a quiet approach he was capable off but too impatient to bother using. In his opinion, if someone were to go through the trouble of running away and hiding then they weren’t worth fighting at all. Strong opponents don’t hide. Most can’t. This bastard, however, was hiding himself remarkably well.

It was pissing him off.

Grimmjow growled to himself as he stomped across the power lines. Despite his heavy weight and the unstable surface, Grimmjow stayed perfectly balanced as he crossed over the long powerlines with his hands deep in his pockets. He wasted two weeks—two whole weeks—searching for that bastard Kurosaki and he found nothing. It’s like the brat had been wiped off the face of the earth! Which was impossible. The Soul Reaper was a thorn in the world’s side. That jackass wouldn’t let anyone kill him no matter how hard they tried. Grimmjow has first hand experience of it. The Arrancar felt the scars on his body twitch with a soft pinching pain, the sensation being quickly rubbed away by his calloused hand. There was no way Kurosaki could be dead. However, Grimmjow couldn’t find a single trace of the brat’s spiritual pressure anywhere. It’s not like the kid was good at hiding that wild signature of his. Kaurakura Town had been drenched to the bone with his spiritual pressure, but now the whole town was bare. His mark had vanished, as if he had never been there.

Despite that ominous sign, Grimmjow continued to search for him. He had remembered the reports Aizen had requested on the teenager and the places he frequented most. The school had been the first place Grimmjow checked. Nothing. He couldn’t even find any of the brat’s friends. Frustrated, he then searched a music shop and a book store the brat visited almost every day. Once again he found bupkis. The last place Grimmjow could check was the kid’s house. Nothing but his family and and a few souls that loitered around around the medical section if the building. Even the kid’s old room smelled empty as if no one had ever lived in it. Without any spiritual pressure to trace, he was left with only one option: wait.

Kurosaki never returned. Grimmjow didn’t leave. It was the only lead he had. The first week passed without his family so much as mentioning his name. By the end of the second week there was finally a breakthrough. (Good thing too. Grimmjow was incredibly close to breaking his cover and threatening the family to get answers. He resisted the temptation because he knew Kurosaki’s father was a Soul Reaper. No way in hell was he scared, but he held no interest on wasting his energy.) The smallest of Ichigo’s sisters, the blonde one, picked up a call on the landline and Grimmjow thought nothing of it until he heard the girl chirp a cheery, “Ichigo!”

Grimmjow wanted to rip the phone from the girl’s hand and demand to know where the f*ck Kurosaki was, but he remained quiet and out of sight. The loud announcement of the boy’s name brought the second sister with black hair and the father into the room, both of them looking anxious as they waited for a reply. The call didn’t last long, but enough time was given for the blonde’s smile to fade as her eyes darkened with sorrow.

“No, we understand, Ichi.” They didn’t.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t.

“There’s always next week. Just focus on your studies, okay?” Is he never coming back?

“Yeah, I’ll tell them.” You should tell them in person.

With a brief goodbye and a heavy sigh the girl hung up the phone and sadly delivered the news to her family, “He’s not coming this week. Says he has a big test to study for. But he told me to tell you that he sends his love.”

The black haired girl, the sarcastic and gruff Kurosaki family member Grimmjow actually found amusing, grew angry and struck an overstuffed pillow laying on the couch. “Why did that jackass have to pick a school that’s three hours away! He’s visiting us less and less each semester!”

Grimmjow’s ears perked in interest. That explained who the house was so empty. If he hadn’t been home often, then there’s no way his spiritual pressure would leave much residue.

“Well, it is the best university that aligns with his career choice. Besides, I can’t blame him for wanting to take a breather from this town,” the father offered.

Grimmjow noticed how tired the man looked as he passed a hand through his black hair, but he didn’t bother to care. He was more focused on catching his prey. The thought alone of being so close to Kurosaki made him antsy.

Give me a name. A name!

“That damn school still sends us newsletters,” the moody sister grumbled as she slapped a thick bundle of mail on the coffee table.

Grimmjow’s body jolted, his excitement growing as he eyed the mail. He was close. With each passing second his body began to boil with anticipation as he waited. It was shameful, hiding behind a wall as he bided his time for the perfect moment to strike. To steal human mail. It didn’t matter. What he was doing was strategic, something the other Espada and Arrancar figured he was incapable of achieving. Only his Fracción really understood his abilities. Grimmjow shook the frown from his lips as he forced his mind to concentrate on the task at hand. He hated how long humans could talk. It was as if they had nothing better to do than stand around and talk about Kurosaki. Grimmjow reigned in a snort. Maybe he couldn’t really hold that obsession against them.

Just before Grimmjow’s patience grew thin, Kurosaki’s family was called away by the shrieking sirens of an ambulance outside. He didn’t know why they bothered. He could already sense the newly born soul joining the others. Whatever. It gave him the chance he had been waiting for. With a brisk Sonído he snatched the mail and quickly vanished. He placed a few miles distance between him and the Kurosaki household, and then began to dig through the envelopes. Bills. Coupons. Advertisem*nts. Bingo. Grimmjow tossed the unwanted mail into a nearby bush and examined the thick and heavy red and black envelope. The top corner read “University of Justice, Health, and Safety” and was addressed to none other than Kurosaki himself.

Grimmjow snarled as a bird neared him, grunting in satisfaction as the avian became frightened and took flight. So, he had an address, but finding the Soul Reaper had still proven to be difficult. He figured that once he was close enough, he’d be able to sense a trace of the brat, but he couldn’t. He had no idea how the punk did it, but he had concealed himself perfectly. Grimmjow stopped dead center of the powerlines as he stared down at the massive school below. The campus was bustling with students. Bustling as in they all moved in a singular sluggish wave of exhaustion and depression, faintly reminding Grimmjow of Menos Grande, but he pushed the comparison as his eyes continued to search. He still couldn’t see Kurosaki.

“Where the f*ck are you, you f*ckin’ brat,” Grimmjow muttered as his eyes narrowed.

He briefly considered destroying the school to draw the ginger out. The commotion would certainly be enough to gain his attention. Bleeding hearts like him couldn’t resist protecting others. Grimmjow’s hand hovered over the hilt of his blade but he came to a halt when his eyes caught a burst of orange in a dull, colorless crowd. A vicious grin tore across Grimmjow’s face as his body shivered in delight. He found him.

Grimmjow's hand left his sword as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey, Kurosaki!”

He expected the boy to freeze, to turn around as his eyes widened in horror, but he didn’t. The boy continued on his way, head down and staring at his phone as he clutched the heavy bag over his right shoulder. Grimmjow scowled. With the help of a Sonído, he appeared in the Soul Reaper’s path with his hand once again hovering over his sword. The boy looked different. Older, of course. More definition in his face. His obnoxious hair longer and falling into his eyes. It was actually a good look for him.

“Kurosaki!” Grimmjow called out, unable to hide his excitement, “Long time no see, Soul Reaper.”

A soft rain started to fall on the two of them. Ichigo peered up at the graying sky and sighed as he dropped his head low and pulled on the hood of his jacket. Grimmjow scowled again, his eye twitching in irritation. Kurosaki wasn’t reacting to him at all. It was like he was ignoring the Arrancar. Grimmjow’s fiery temper ignited at the thought. A snarl spilled from his throat as Ichigo drew closer and closer but never acknowledged him.

“Don’t f*cking ignore me, Kurosaki!”

He drew his arm back and thrust it forward with a snarl. His fist crashed into the Soul Reaper’s soft cheek, causing the boy to scramble back and fall seat first into a newly formed puddle.

“f*cking hell. What the f*ck,” Ichigo hissed while clutching his cheek. His eyes held a hard glare as he searched for the source of what caused his pain. His eyes locked with Grimmjow’s. His body grew still. His lungs froze. His warm brown eyes tripling in terror.

“Is...is anyone there? If you’re a soul, I can’t help you. Go to Karakura Town, they constantly have a Soul Reaper stationed there. They can help you,” Ichigo said slowly.

Grimmjow watched with a raised brow as the boy slowly climbed to his feet. He had never seen the Soul Reaper crumble so easily. “What the hell are you talking about, Kurosaki? Are you acting stupid on purpose?” Grimmjow demanded. He was growing tired of the boy’s game.

Ichigo swallowed. The lump in his throat bobbed as blood poured freely from his split lip. An unsettled feeling bubbled in Grimmjow’s stomach as he stared into the Soul Reaper’s eyes. This was wrong. Something was off about the brat. His eyes were different. All of his pride, all of his confidence, it was all gone. All that was left was pure, unrestrained fear.

“Renji?” Ichigo whispered, his voice wavering, “Ikkaku? Kenpachi? Please tell me it’s one of you.”

Grimmjow’s brows furrowed as he ground his teeth until they ached. He wanted to tell him that he was wrong. He wanted to say his name and watch the Soul Reaper’s face react to the sound of his voice, but he knew he would go unheard.

Ichigo’s eyes searched the air blindly before he cursed and picked up his phone and bag from the ground. Grimmjow could only watch as the ginger slung his bag over his shoulder and dial up a number, tucking the phone by his ear as he started to escape.

“Ishida, you need to get to the school now. I think there’s a Hollow. I was hit by something and I can’t see it.”

He sounded so scared. He looked terrified. Kurosaki was so different from the powerful boy he had fought five years ago.

Their shoulders clipped as Ichigo passed by, and Grimmjow slowly turned to follow him with his eyes.

Thunder cracked overhead as lightning lit up the sky. Ichigo became smaller and smaller the further he ran, leaving Grimmjow alone and far behind.

Grimmjow clenched his fists tightly, his nails cutting deep into his skin, before falling limp at his sides. Blue eyes stared at the young man’s distant form in longing as his lips slowly parted, and with a soft voice he said, “You can’t see me, can you, Ichigo?”

Chapter 2: Observant of the Loss

Chapter Text

Soft scratches of a pen gliding over paper filled the silent room. Normally, Kurosaki would play music to fill the lonely void, but today he set his phone aside to let it charge. The lack of music caused the seconds to drag by, which obviously affected the boy’s mood and gumption for learning.

Ichigo inhaled deeply and then released a loud sigh. His brown eyes were abnormally dark as they gazed at his open textbook and pad of notes. Or, what was supposed to be notes but was actually a notepad full of doodles (Grimmjow noted that they actually weren’t half bad). It wasn’t often the ginger became distracted from his homework. School was pretty much all the brat had. Grimmjow had seen it with his own eyes. Kurosaki buried himself deep into his classes and the work that came along with it. Practically dedicated his life to it. He spent over six hours each Tuesday and Thursday at the college. Every day left over during the rest of the week was used on homework, studying, and whatever odd job he came across. His only free day was Sunday. Apparently that day was supposed to be used for visiting family. Instead, every morning the boy woke up hellishly early, waited until ten, then called and informed his family that he couldn’t make it. There wasn’t any malicious intent behind it. Not from what Grimmjow could see. In fact, Kurosaki looked regretful every time he called. He didn’t understand why Ichigo cancelled seeing his family. His homework was always finished by Saturday night. Whatever was going on, it was bad enough to make Kurosaki wish to be alone and distance himself from his family.

Ichigo sighed once again as his body deflated. The pen fell from his grip and went unnoticed as the ginger turned his head and stared straight into Grimmjow’s eyes. Actually, the boy was looking through him and out the window to watch heavy rain beat on the trees outside. The boy had no clue he was there.

Grimmjow had seen the ginger do this from time to time. The boy’s thoughts would quickly overwhelm him and he would shut down and just stare out the window with a sad look of longing. Grimmjow normally perched on the windowsill in hopes that one day the human would see him with his own eyes.

He missed how those brown eyes looked at him.

The Arrancar cracked his neck to push the thoughts away as he started counting the freckles on Kurosaki’s face to pass the time. He didn’t need to, though. He had counted each freckle six times already. It was funny, Grimmjow didn’t remember seeing freckles on the kid five years ago. Granted, the only time they were close enough for him to count them was during their bloody battles. Counting the dude’s freckles hadn’t been very high on the list at the moment. And they both usually ended up with so much blood on their bodies that it was nearly impossible to see who was beneath it all. However, no matter how mutilated Ichigo’s body was, his eyes were always recognizable.

Except, not any more. His eyes were still that same shade of brown he had seen five years ago, with the flakes of orange and glimmers of gold. Amazing eyes, but they had lost all of their luster. Eyes that had once seen the gods but were now blind to their miracles. Eyes that belonged to a dead man. In a sense, Kurosaki was.

A whimpering groan fell from Ichigo’s lips as the boy turned his eyes back to his doodles and the frown on Grimmjow’s lips increased. The boy closed his textbook and stacked everything on the corner of the desk then promptly dropped his head onto the black surface.

Grimmjow slowly lowered his feet onto the bed just below the windowsill and stepped from the bed to the floor. From where he stood he towered over the ginger. Without much thought his hand stretched out slowly, fingers twitching as they drew close to the human’s shoulder.

Ichigo suddenly pushed his chair back and Grimmjow jumped as he yanked his hand away. The boy pushed himself out of his chair and ran his fingers through his orange hair, giving Grimmjow the opportunity to study his whole form. The kid was a lot taller than he was five years ago. Kurosaki was almost his height, actually; just an inch shy. He wasn’t as lean anymore either.

Sun-kissed hands rubbed at the ginger’s neck and aching back as grumbling complaints tumbled from his lips. Grimmjow stepped aside as the boy walked by, knowing that the human would have otherwise walked straight into him.

Living without his powers. The boy really was dead.

Grimmjow’s lip curled in disgust.

“Pathetic.”

Chapter 3: A Little Visit

Chapter Text

Skilled fingers twisted long locks of orange hair as Ichigo hummed along to the music floating from his speakers. This was an odd day. Ever since Grimmjow had started watching the boy during his day to day life, he had seen Kurosaki mope and groan every single waking minute. For some reason he was actually in a good mood.

Ichigo’s leg bounced with the bass as his pencil tapped the coffee table, a soft smile dusting the boy’s lips. Huh. He had no idea what got into the kid, but he rather liked the change. He was starting to seem more like himself.

Brown eyes locked onto the fingers twirling orange bangs, then rolled as the ginger chuckled at his own actions. Grimmjow watched as the human stood up and disappeared into his room and came back a few moments later with his long hair tied back in a sloppy bun and a thin black headband holding his bangs out of his face. The Arrancar smirked to himself as a single strand of orange hair decided to fight back and slipped past the headband to tickle the human’s forehead. The ginger didn’t bother to fix it as he became preoccupied with the essay he had been typing for the past two and a half hours. Grimmjow had peeked over the ginger’s shoulder once or twice and had actually been surprised by the quality of the human’s writing, not that he really had any examples to compare it too.

A gentle pressure brushed over his senses and Grimmjow’s smile instantly vanished. Someone was approaching. Someone with spiritual pressure. The Arrancar parted his lips and gently sniffed at the air. His nose wrinkled as he resisted the urge to gag. It was a Soul Reaper, and a strong one at that. His body hummed in response to the scent as if to tempt him to treat himself, but he pushed the thought away. He was in not the right condition to play with a Soul Reaper. He hadn’t eaten in over a week, and while he wouldn’t necessarily say he was weak, he just didn’t believe it was wise to take on an enemy when he had a chance to be reckless. He also didn’t want them to tip off Ichigo about his presence. Grimmjow reigned in his spiritual pressure, forcing his aura to become almost indiscernible from the reishi in the air. He relaxed back into the couch with a satisfied sigh. There, he shouldn’t be bothered now.

But the Soul Reaper continued to grow closer and closer. The Arrancar growled to himself as his hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of his sword. He was undetectable, so it didn’t make sense that the Soul Reaper continued to come this way. He sniffed the air once again. There weren’t any Hollows nearby either. So why was—

His eyes jumped over to Ichigo. The human chewed on a pencil while deliberating on how to phrase his next sentence, oblivious to Grimmjow’s delima. The Arrancar cursed and disappeared into the human’s room, leaving the door ajar just a crack so he could peer into the living room. The Soul Reaper was almost here. His hand took hold of the hilt of his sword while he waited tensely for what was going to happen next.

A knock echoed through the door. Ichigo looked up in surprise and pushed himself onto his feet to answer it. Grimmjow clenched his teeth. Ichigo’s hand wrapped around the handle. The air sung quietly as Grimmjow drew his sword, exposing just a sliver of the blade. The door opened with a faint squeak, revealing the person behind it, and Grimmjow felt his heavy guard deflate. It was that black haired girl from five years ago, the one he impaled with his own hand when he and Ichigo first met. Except, her hair was shorter and there was a cautious smile on her lips while a nervous hand played with a frill on her yellow dress. A grunt escaped the Arrancar’s lips as he sheathed his sword once again. This Soul Reaper wasn’t going to cause him any trouble. Although she was stronger than she was five years ago, she still didn’t pose as a threat. She hadn’t been the only one to spend these long years training.

However, he did find it odd that she would even bother to show up to Kurosaki’s place. He couldn’t see her, so what was the use? In the end it would only taunt and remind Ichigo of the power he no longer had. It was totally something Grimmjow would do, but not what he expected of the ginger’s so called friend.

But he was wrong.

Instead of Ichigo growing confused and closing the door, Grimmjow watched with wide eyes as the human cheered his friend’s name and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Rukia! I haven’t seen you in so long!” Ichigo exclaimed excitedly while spinning the girl in his arms.

Laughter bubbled from the girl’s lips, the sound causing Ichigo’s smile to stretch beyond what was physically capable. Grimmjow frowned and slipped deeper into the shadows.

“Ichigo, put me down! You’re going to make the both of us dizzy!” Rukia demanded, the authority in her voice wavering as giggled erupted from her throat.

Grimmjow snorted to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest. She definitely wasn’t a threat.

Ichigo did as told and set her down, but didn’t stray far as he left both of his hands on her small shoulders. “I’m sorry, Ru. I just—I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again. At least, not until I made it into the Soul Society naturally,” the human said. Grimmjow noted how the boy’s smile never faltered, not even when he mentioned his own future passing. The Soul Reaper, on the other hand, scowled at the thought. The look was quickly washed away as the girl went back to smiling.

“You’ve grown out your hair,” she said. Her small hands reached out to brush back the bangs that had fallen from the headband and tugged at the human’s messy bun.

Ichigo chuckled as he stooped down to allow the tiny girl full access to his orange hair. The raven haired Soul Reaper took advantage of the opportunity by plucking out the headband and hair tie, allowing Ichigo’s orange hair to fall loose and spill over his shoulders.

Rukia continued to brush her fingers through his hair, her eyes distant as if she were contemplating a large problem. “I’m glad you decided to grow it out. You look very handsome,” she said, her eyes coming back to life as she smirked at her friend.

Ichigo laughed and pushed the Soul Reaper’s hands away. “Thank you very much, Rukia. You’re not so bad yourself. I think I’m starting to see the beginnings of definition in your chest,” the human mocked as he gestured toward her flat chest.

Grimmjow smirked to himself as the boy laughed, a rather loud “Ow!” resulting from the Soul Reaper’s temper. Soon the two settled down and sat side by side on the olive green couch with pleased smiles on their lips. With a few words passing between them they decided to order take out and used their time waiting for small talk.

Some guy named Renji was apparently doing well, and had recently decided to trade out his sunglasses for bandannas.

Rukia’s brother was doing well too, but he hadn’t changed much.

Kenpachi was alive, but that was to be expected. Ikkaku and Yumichika were still his subordinates and Yachiru still annoyed them.

Grimmjow started to bore as he listened to their light conversation. The Soul Reaper could have just as easily summed everything up to, “Everything is the same,” instead of letting the human ask questions with obvious answers. It didn’t take a scientist to understand how tense the conversation was. The Soul Reaper was careful when she answered each question and seemed to avoid any mentions of the Soul Society and their work. Grimmjow supposed he understood why.

The food finally arrived, and when they started to dig in the Soul Reaper paused and lowered her fork as she watched the human closely. “Ichigo...how are you doing?”

Kurosaki stilled mid-chew, then seemed to struggle seconds later as he swallowed the lump of food down. “Uh, I’m fine. The same as always. Busy with school and work,” he said with a shrug.

The kid was a good actor, Grimmjow will give him that, but not convincing enough to fool his friend. Rukia laid her small hand on the boy’s wrist as stared at him with her big eyes sincere and pleading.

“Ichigo, please, I want the truth. Everyone wants to know how you’re doing. We care about you. You know that, right?” she murmured softly, almost taking on a mothering tone.

Ichigo looked as if he were going to be defiant and argue, but the look in her eyes extinguished his angry flames and his whole body sagged into the couch, showing his true exhaustion.

“I dunno, Rukia. Honestly, I really don’t. Some days are good, but mostly they’re bad. It’s just...so hard to live without my powers. I know people need me, but I can’t do anything to help them. I can’t save anyone in this state. It’s infuriating to know that there’s so many people who need my help and...I’m useless,” Ichigo admitted.

Grimmjow’s nose wrinkled as he glared at the Soul Reaper. For the first time in weeks Kurosaki had finally started to act like his old self and she had to come along and wreck it. What kind of friend was she?

“Ichigo,” the girl took hold of the ginger’s chin and smiled as she turned his face to look at her, “You don’t have to save anyone. Everyone in the Soul Society—everyone in the world owes you a debt. You were a human who stepped into an unknown world, completely unprepared, and you helped us do what we could not. You saved us countless times, you saved me countless times, it’s our turn to return the favor. We want to protect you, Ichigo. We want you to live the normal human life you deserve. You’re just a kid. You shouldn’t be living the life of a Soul Reaper, not until you’ve used up your first life to the fullest. Become the man you always dreamed of being. Get the job you’ve been training for. Fall in love. Have children if you want them. Leave your print on this world. Then when you’re old and frail, after you’ve seen and done everything the World of the Living has offered you, you can come to the Soul Society. Okay?”

Ichigo’s brows furrowed and his usual frown turned into a scowl as he pulled his face free from her hand to glare at the red carpet. “That’s the problem. I’m not a normal human, Rukia. Any normal human wouldn’t know what I do or have gone through what I did or have seen what I saw. I may not have my powers anymore...and I may not be able to see spirits or slay Hollows...but I’m far from a normal human. Remember what you went through when I had your powers? You were helpless and could barely hold your own against low level hollows. You were still a Soul Reaper, you just didn’t have access to your powers. That’s what I’m going through. Except I can’t even see my enemies but I know they’re there.”

“And you aren’t a Soul Reaper anymore,” Rukia interjected with a serious face, “Ichigo, my powers returned because I still had them deep down inside me. My abilities could come back. You, on the other hand, don’t have anything left. You gave them up. They’re gone gone. You can’t be a Soul Reaper again. Not in this life.”

Ichigo’s hands clawed at his tight jeans until they morphed into angry fists. Angry tears burned in the ginger’s eyes as his body shook from his rage. Grimmjow was nearly in the same state. Ichigo couldn’t get his powers back? Bullsh*t. This human refused to live his life by what people claim he can and can’t do. Ichigo could be a Soul Reaper again, even if Grimmjow had to force it out of him.

“I’m sorry, Ichigo. Believe me I truly understand...but please,” Rukia’s eyes were begging for the ginger to understand, for forgiveness, “We want you to be safe and happy. You can’t do that if you die fighting our battles. You were just a teenager and you nearly died far more than any of us can bear to think of. You need to think of yourself for once, please.”

Grimmjow struggled to hold in his growling scoff. Kurosaki was thinking about himself. He couldn’t deny that the boy had an itch to protect people he deemed worthy of protecting, but at the same time he knew the boy loved fighting. He didn’t enjoy killing his enemies, but he felt the same thrilling rush of adrenaline in his body as everyone else did. He craved to have power, but not for himself. No, he wanted power to protect his friends—to protect everyone. Not being able to stand up for others was causing the boy to crumble and fall apart under his own self-hatred for being what he considered useless. It was pathetic beyond belief, but Grimmjow knew he couldn’t fight the ginger until he was given a purpose to fight for someone else. A chance to be the shield he so longed to be.

The rest of the Soul Reaper’s visit consisted of silence as they ate their-now cold-dinner. An occasional question from the girl pierced the thick silence, but Kurosaki’s gruff and curt replies always mended the holes. The night eventually ended and Rukia readied herself to leave. Grimmjow honestly suspected that the human was going to allow her to leave without bidding her farewell, but at the last second he yanked the Soul Reaper into his arms and hugged her tightly. Grimmjow averted his eyes as the ginger apologized quietly, disgust staining the Arrancar’s tongue.

Rukia finally left with a soft smiled farewell, and Ichigo was left alone once again.

Grimmjow didn’t stick around long enough to watch Kurosaki mope as he cleaned up their mess. He had more important matters to attend to, such as finding out how the human could see Rukia without his powers. The Arrancar snuck out the window in the bedroom and watched from the shadows as the Soul Reaper beckoned a cab and slipped inside before it drove off. With a bothered grunt Grimmjow followed the vehicle, but made sure to stay out of her immediate line of sight. Along the way he was blocked by a rather large Hollow concealing it’s spiritual pressure as it hunted a little girl walking with her father. The Hollow, if given the chance to feed and grow, would have been a formidable Arrancar, but Grimmjow’s hunger was far more powerful in this case. Knowing he could follow the Soul Reaper’s trail he engaged the Hollow head on. With a single move he ripped out the Hollow’s throat, leaving the creature too stunned and in pain to fight back as Grimmjow devoured the light snack. As he finished he wiped the blood dripping from his face with the back of his hand, smearing the nearly black liquid across his cheek. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now. He was starved. Grimmjow parted his lips and sniffed gently as a soft breeze passed. There weren’t any Hollows nearby, but there were a few choice Souls, living and dead, close by. He considered continuing his rampage until his body was bloated with their tasty flesh and bone, but he decided against it. He couldn’t draw that much attention to himself. Besides, he had to catch up with the Soul Reaper.

As he dashed to catch up he continued to wipe the blood from his face, only to stain his mask from the effort. He skidded to a halt when he spotted the cab parked in front of a small dingy store and wiped his hands quickly on his pants. He was going to need his sword and it would be a pain to fight with his hands slick and unable to hold onto his weapon. The Soul Reaper left the cab and disappeared into the store, the cab leaving soon after she did.

Okay...now what? Grimmjow frowned to himself. A confrontation with the Soul Reaper wasn’t ideal, but how else could he find out why Kurosaki could see and touch her?

Before he could make a decision the Soul Reaper appeared again as she stepped out of the shop. This time she was dressed in her normal Soul Reaper garments. A portal to the Soul Society opened before her and she stepped through, and the portal vanished with a soft breath.

Well, the shop was a good lead. Although now his only lead.

Quietly, Grimmjow crept toward the shop and slipped inside with ease. His eyes first caught sight of the Soul Reaper’s body, or what looked to be her body, slumped in the corner of the room with a man standing over it. The man mumbled to himself as he examined the mock body, lifting the occasional limb to inspect it. This man would be able to give him answers.

With frightening speed Grimmjow withdrew his sword and pressed it to the man’s throat while twisting the blonde man’s arm behind his back, rendering his efforts to escape useless and promising pain.

“Don’t make a sound unless I order you to, understand?” Grimmjow growled.

Although taken by surprise, the man seemed very at ease with a blade cutting into the soft flesh of his neck. Green eyes attempted to catch a glance at who held him captive, but he had no such luck.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Arrancar?” the man quipped.

Grimmjow paused, then doubled his defenses. “How’d you know I was an Arrancar?”

“Well...while you’ve done an amazing job at concealing your spiritual pressure, when you get close to someone spiritually aware they can easily smell the aura of a Hollow drifting from your body. Since you had a zanpakuto, I figured it would be safe to assume you were an Arrancar,” the man explained with a shrug.

A smart guy. Good. He would be useful.

Grimmjow tightened his grip on the man’s wrist, grinning when the blonde released a small pained squeak. “Since you’re smart enough to piece all that together, my guess is you’ll be able to tell me what that is,” he said, removing his sword from the man’s neck and pointing at the girl’s body.

Instead of trying to fight his way out of Grimmjow’s grasp, the blonde grew excited and his green eyes shined under the shadows of his striped hat. “Amazing, isn’t it? My best work yet, although Kuchiki did scratch it when her hand brushed over a loose nail on staircase railing. Perhaps I should start reinforcing the skin, although it would be a challenge to keep the body looking human if I were to do that.”

This guy talked way too much. “You made that?”

“Of course!” the man laughed as if his answer were obvious, “I’m the only one in the World of the Living who can make these. Although, I suppose humans come close with puppets and dummies.”

Grimmjow pressed the blade against the man’s throat once again. “Make me one.”

The man pondered his words before offering his own. “What would you need a Gigai for, Mr. Arrancar?”

Grimmjow’s nose wrinkled as his grip tightened on his sword. “I don’t like bein’ ignored. Now get to work. I want it done by morning.”

Chapter 4: Disappointing Reunion

Chapter Text

Ichigo’s thumb gently clicked his pen over and over again, the inked tip poking in and out and leaving tiny marks on his ignored paper. His brown eyes glazed over in boredom. He had avoided this class for a long as he could, but this semester he had gotten stuck with the dreaded speech class. It wasn’t like he had anxiety towards talking to crowds, nor was it an insecurity with articulating words, because he had a problem with neither. He had seen things far more frightening than delivering a dumb speech to a class that would forget everything he said after the hour ended. No, what he despised about this class was how useless and boring it all was. Not many students needed public speaking skills and he found it ridiculous that every student was forced to take such a class. He understands why a speech class would be important to his major, but at the same time he was annoyed that he was wasting his time and money to learn a skill he already had. He just wanted to graduate already and leave these stuffy white walls behind him.

Ichigo’s eyes began to flutter as his teacher’s monotone voice slowly lured him to sleep. His eyes slid closed, his cheek pressing deep into his comfortable palm. Sleep crept along his tired and overworked mind and planted heavy kisses along the surface, causing a thick wave of drowsiness to finally overtake him.

A booming crack caused Ichigo to lurch straight in his chair as his body burst with adrenaline and fear. He hadn’t been the only one to react, either. Every student, including the professor, gaped at the classroom door that hung off its hinges. The man responsible for the destruction stood tall and proud as his gleaming teeth sparkled in a threatening grin. Cinnamon brown eyes grew large. The fear in his chest doubled and caused his heart to stutter while his eyes recognized the tangle of wild light blue hair and vicious light blue eyes. It couldn’t be…

“Yo, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow bellowed the boy’s name and his grin turned hauntingly dangerous, “I’ve come to kick yer ass!”

All the air in Ichigo’s lungs had disappeared. He couldn’t say anything back. Was this a dream? Had he fallen asleep and was just having some odd day-mare? Before he could convince himself that he was in fact dreaming, his teacher peered over his glasses, seeming to be unimpressed by the display of immense brute strength.

“Kurosaki, do you intend to explain why this man has interrupted my class?” professor asked as he gathered his already perfectly stacked papers.

The question was more than enough to spur the boy into action. “H-he’s an old family friend!” Ichigo lied with ease as he quickly dumped all of his belongings into his bag and hefted it over his shoulder, “I’m sorry for the interruption, sir. We’ll be leaving now.”

Before Grimmjow could interject the human snatched his wrist and dragged him through the halls at a brisk pace.

“What the f*ck, Kurosaki! Don’t f*ckin’ grab me like that!” Grimmjow snarled as he clawed at the human’s hand. Ichigo didn’t respond and his grip didn’t loosen, not even when Grimmjow’s nails cut deep into his skin and caused him to bleed. They didn’t stop until Ichigo hid them both out of sight in a garden with a small pond behind the school. The moment they were alone Ichigo released the Arrancar’s wrist and opted for the collar of his black sleeveless shirt and yanked him forward until their faces were inches apart. Grimmjow’s body tensed at the unexpected close proximity, but he didn’t dare pull away. He didn’t want the brat to think he was intimidating, because he wasn’t.

“What the f*ck are you doing here, Grimmjow?” Ichigo hissed in the man’s face, then his eyes turned confused and curious, “And...are you in a Gigai? Where the hell did you get one of those?”

Grimmjow snorted and knocked the ginger’s hand away. “Clean your ears, dumbass. I told you already. I came here to kick your ass into next week,” he answered.

“That doesn’t explain the f*cking Gigai,” Kurosaki snapped. He had a bigger potty mouth than Grimmjow remembered.

“I can’t f*cking fight you if you can’t f*cking see me, jackass,” Grimmjow retorted.

The ginger visibly flinched. He didn’t like to be reminded that he was powerless. Brown eyes lost their fire and became cold. Ichigo’s grip weakened as stared at Grimmjow with indifference. That definitely wasn’t what the Arrancar wanted.

Black fabric slid between long fingers as the human released the Arrancar’s shirt. “Go home, Grimmjow. I’m not going to fight you. You’re wasting my time,” Ichigo said as he slung his fallen satchel onto his shoulder once again and turned his back on the Arrancar.

Grimmjow’s temper exploded. This f*cking brat was undermining him again. A snarl ripped through his throat, sharp teeth bared, fingers curling into claws as he roared the boy’s name, “KUROSAKI!”

His scream caused the boy to turn just in time to see the Arrancar’s fist mere inches away from his face. Grimmjow expected to see fear in the ginger’s eyes, but instead he saw a spark ignite in those cinnamon irises that caused a burst of terror to shoot through the Arrancar’s chest. Faster than Grimmjow’s eyes could track, the ginger trapped his wrist in an iron grip, one that Grimmjow was surprised he couldn’t escape. Ichigo planted a foot behind Grimmjow’s, his stance firm and unshakable as he continued to hold onto Grimmjow’s wrist with one hand and slammed his elbow deep into Grimmjow’s solar plexus.

Holy sh*t. A pained wheeze spilled from Grimmjow’s lips as all air was forced from his lungs. His legs trembled to hold his weight and his vision blurred as he crumbled to his knees while clutching his aching chest. Where had the ginger gotten this strength?

“Powerless or not, while you’re in a gigai you’re weaker than me. Stop acting like a child and go home. I won’t play this game, Grimmjow,” Ichigo ordered.

Weaker than him? Gritting his teeth, Grimmjow ripped his wrist from Ichigo’s hand and snarled. The noise was pathetic. He didn’t even scare the wild cat that drank from the pond nearby. Knowing this weakness only fueled Grimmjow’s anger and pushed him to spring into action. With a roar he tackled Ichigo to the ground and starting an all out brawl with a single punch. Although the Arrancar had gotten a few good licks in, he was surprised to find that Kurosaki was still able to overpower him. When Grimmjow’s balance favored one side over the other, Ichigo took advantage by striking his cheek and pushed on Grimmjow’s shoulders. The ginger slammed Grimmjow’s back onto the ground and used all of his weight to pin the Arrancar on his back by sitting on his stomach, placing his knees on the Arrancar’s palms to trap his arms, and braced himself by holding down Grimmjow’s chest with a fist held high in threat.

“I told you to stop! There’s only one person you could get a Gigai from and that’s Urahara! I can guarantee he made your Gigai’s abilities parallel to an average human so you couldn’t cause any serious damage to the World of the Living. You can’t beat me like this, Grimmjow,” Ichigo snapped, his cheek swelling and turning black.

He hated it when the brat said sh*t like that. It infuriated him. He was stronger than him. He was a king. How could this human tell him what he can and can’t do?

“You still talk like you have the biggest dick in the room,” the Arrancar spat, his tongue lashing out to swipe the blood oozing from his split lip.

Grimmjow used all of his remaining strength to yank his hand free, thus allowing him to throw a devastating blow to Kurosaki’s freckled cheek. At least, that’s what he meant to do. What really happened was far less glorious. Ichigo caught his fist with ease, and in turn laid a hard punch to Grimmjow’s jaw. The strike rattled his teeth and caused his own canines to stab deep into his tongue. His own blood tasted foul on his tastebuds. He’d rather be tasting the human’s.

His nose wrinkled as a distasteful name built on his tongue, but before Grimmjow could snarl another insult he was suddenly struck by the intensity of the boy’s eyes. They’re weren’t dull and dead like they had been these past few weeks. They were bright and alive, burning with purpose like they had five years ago. Seeing those eyes again left him speechless. A strange feeling tied a thick knot in his chest, one tight enough to make it hard to breathe as he stared at those brown depths.

Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed and he parted his lips as if to speak, but was soon interrupted by an authoritative voice slicing through their silence.

“Hey! What are you two doing! No fighting on campus!”

Cinnamon brown eyes tore away from his gaze and Grimmjow gasped. The knot in his chest unraveled and melted away as if it had never existed. Grimmjow clutched at his chest, his heartbeat erratic under his palm. He was grateful for the odd sensation to be gone, but a small part of him couldn’t help but feel empty.

“sh*t. Campus police,” Ichigo grumbled.

Without a second to think the ginger snatched Grimmjow’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. Grimmjow stumbled to gain his footing, too mesmerized by the look in Ichigo’s eyes to keep his usual balance. The human noticed his imbalance and drew Grimmjow closer to beckon his attention.

“Move your feet! Come on! We have to get out of here!” Ichigo ordered.

His words were enough to snap Grimmjow from his distracted state and caused a twisted sneer to grow across his lips. “Don’t f*ckin’ order me around, Kurosaki,” he spat.

A brief flicker of a smile dusted Kurosaki’s lips. The smile instantly dissolving into a frown as he caught sight of the officer and tugged on Grimmjow’s wrist again. “Let’s go!”

Grimmjow was forced into a dead set run with the ginger right beside him, his shoulder brushing against the human’s. Their bounds in sync with their lungs straining to keep up with their vicious speed. No words passed between them, even as they switched directions as if they had practiced their route into perfection. The cop’s voice slowly faded in the distance, but Ichigo’s hand never released Grimmjow’s wrist, and the Arrancar never opposed to the touch.

Chapter 5: The Offer of an Enemy

Chapter Text

Grimmjow was growing impatient. He waited five years to regain his health, to grow stronger, all to fight the Soul Reaper that defeated him and reclaim his title. He spent two weeks tracking him down and his thirst for battle increased by the day, only to find the boy had powerless and blind to the world he used to know. The Arrancar waited weeks in hope that the boy would once again see him, but it wasn’t until last night that he discovered a way. They had a chance to battle once again, but the ginger squandered the opportunity. Instead of being locked in an intense fight full of blood spilling from their wounds and snarls of hate spewing from their mouths, Grimmjow sat on the couch with his eye twitching in irritation as the human paced back and forth and forth and back until the Arrancar grew dizzy.

“Will you stop pacing like that? You’re making me sick,” Grimmjow snapped, his patience finally vanishing.

Ichigo immediately stopped upon the request. His brown eyes stared at the Arrancar before he sighed and passed a hand through his long hair. “What are you even doing here, Grimmjow?”

His voice sounded tired. He never sounded like that when they fought. “What, are you deaf now too? I told you already. I came to kick your ass and pay you back for what you did in Hueco Mundo,” Grimmjow replied gruffly.

Ichigo flinched at his words and his eyes dropped to the floor. That was...an odd reaction. Was the boy actually...regretting their battle? Grimmjow’s jaw locked in place. That better not mean the boy felt pity for him. He’d kill him for sure if he did.

Kurosakicollapsed into an armchair and sagged deep into the cheap faux-leather cushions. The boy didn’t speak for some time. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet and small, “I thought you...might have….”

Brown eyes flickered to Grimmjow’s abdomen, right where the scars from their multiple battles were etched into his skin. The Arrancar’s nose wrinkled and he bared his teeth in a mocking sneer. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Kurosaki. You hardly did any damage to me. I could’a kicked your ass easily even after that last strike. There’s no way you could’ve killed me.”

Ichigo spoke again with no hesitation, “But I thought Nnoitra had.”

The name carried enough weight to place them both into another pregnant silence. The memory itself was shameful. No matter how focused he was on destroying Kurosaki, he should’ve kept an eye out for other attackers. Even if it was Nnoitra, a man on his side, he still should have kept his defenses strong. He had gotten lucky. If it had been an enemy, especially in his state, he would have been killed instead of merely pushed aside.

Although, Nnoitra had meant to kill him. Ichigo had been the one to stop him. That was a mystery Grimmjow had not solved in five years.

“How did you survive?”

Ichigo’s question broke Grimmjow from his thoughts, and his words caused him to scoff. “I told you. I’m not fragile,” after a few moments he sighed and continued, “But that stupid kid you had with you, the one that also turns into a woman, she helped me out. Not that I asked her to.”

Ichigo’s eyes suddenly burst with life and lured the human to sit on the edge of his seat in anticipation. “Nel healed you? Is she okay? Did she find her brothers? Are they okay too? Is she able to control her forms?”

Grimmjow’s eye twitched again. This brat was beyond frustrating. His enemy was sitting four feet away and instead of fighting him, he chose to ask for updates on his friends. It was aggravating.

Especially when he wouldn’t stop asking questions.

“I don’t f*ckin’ know!” Grimmjow barked, “I’m not friends with her or her stupid brothers! I would never affiliate myself with such weak people.”

Anger darkened Ichigo’s scowl, a murderous look Grimmjow had only seen the boy make once before and cause his heart to stutter. Grimmjow frowned to himself as he resisted the urge to press a hand to his chest. This fake body was strange. What defective piece of sh*t had that clog-wearing idiot made him?

Just as soon as the expression appeared, it was wiped away with a hand dragging down his face and a sigh. “I’m just glad they’re okay. I should have known that she would be fine. She’s strong. They all are. Of course I’m not needed,” he mumbled, sinking back into his chair and deflating. His eyes were dull, again.

Grimmjow watched the boy for a few moments, then a scoff rolled from his tongue. He pulled his legs onto the couch and pushed himself up to sit on the back, his shadow looming over the ginger’s sagging figure. “You’re pathetic, Kurosaki. You lose your powers and so you pull this bullsh*t? You get depressed like some f*cking human and give up? Five years ago you would’ve kept going even if someone killed you,” Grimmjow said.

A spark of anger flashed in the boy’s dull eyes once again. “I can’t do anything, Grimmjow! I lost my powers and I can’t get them back! I sacrificed my power to defeat Aizen and—...that’s a decision I made peace with long ago.”

“BULLsh*t, KUROSAKI!” Grimmjow bellowed, “You haven’t made peace with anything! Look at the sorry state you’re in! Stop lying and face the damn facts. You’re pretending to be okay with being a normal human but you crave the power you once had. You were a human and somehow you gained immense power, and you can get it again. Even if I have to drag that power out of you myself.”

Ichigo’s eyes grew wide at his claim. “You...you want to help me...get my powers back?”

His cinnamon eyes were alive again. They shined with hope. Good. They were on the right track.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and scoffed, “I’m not doing it for you. It’s just no fun to kill you when you’re easy prey.”

He could see the gears in the boy’s head turning fast, but they didn’t turn for long. “Okay. I want to do it. If we can find a way...I’ll do it. I want my powers back.”

Light blue eyes inspected every deep cavern in those warm brown irises. There was determination back in his eyes. Perfect.

A lazy grin split across Grimmjow’s lips, “Good. You might not be as pathetic as I thought.”

Chapter 6: A Death God's Night Terrors

Chapter Text

It was an odd arrangement. Grimmjow was given a flat pillow, one that was used for decoration not actual pillow purposes, and a thin yellow blanket that either covered his shoulder or his feet, but never both. He was given access to the rather worn down couch to sleep on. Grimmjow quickly realized was too short for him. Either he broke his neck by resting his head on the arm of the couch, or he strained his legs by letting them fall over the edge. Honestly, what made him far more uncomfortable was the fact that the human’s room was just a few feet away. Granted, Grimmjow had fallen asleep in the boy’s windowsill before, but that was when the human had no idea he was there. Ichigo knew he was there now and he was allowing his enemy to stay.

It was very weird and very uncomfortable.

Grimmjow huffed and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. A blast of cold struck his feet and the shock caused him to hiss. He struggled with the yellow nightmare for a few minutes, stretching out the material in an attempt to cover his whole body. Eventually he became too tired and frustrated to deal with it anymore. With a quiet snarl in his throat he balled up the blanket and threw it away with a hard thump and curled into a tight ball for warmth. It wasn’t even that cold, anyways. That Rukia girl’s zanpakuto packed more of a punch than this air did.

Grimmjow’s temper slowly ebbed away and drowsiness took over his senses. Ever so softly his eyes fluttered closed, his light blue lashes brushing his cheeks, when a pained cry caused them to snap back open. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, but the urge to snap drifted away as another whimper caused his ears to twitch. He recognized that voice. He recognized the sound. More accurately, what was causing it.

The Arrancar pushed himself up onto one arm and rubbed a hand through his hair in exhaustion. This stupid body drained him of all energy. Of course tonight had to be a night where the teenager would be as restless as a rampaging Hollow. Ichigo’s fitful nights weren’t actually a new occurrence. After all those weeks of watching the boy in his day to day life he had seen Kurosaki’s wild sleeping pattern, or lack thereof. While the rest of the world slept, Ichigo busied himself with textbooks until his lids grew heavy and caused him to pass out while seated at his desk. The nights where the ginger actually went to bed were filled with atrocious nightmares. Grimmjow had never known what the boy dreamed about, but he had heard the human gasp and whimper his friends’ names occasionally in his sleep.

Another cry slipped through Ichigo’s door and Grimmjow rolled his eyes. With a huff he turned to face the cushions of the couch and forced himself into an even tighter ball than before. He actually reached the first cycle of sleep this time, before he was pulled back to reality by a rather loud sob. Ugh. It was going to be a long night.

He tried to ignore it for as long as he could. He really did, but when Ichigo’s sobs turned into barely restrained cries and choked words, Grimmjow had enough. With a curse the Arrancar crawled off the couch and stormed into Ichigo’s room. It was rather stupid of the human to leave his door unlocked.

Although angry, what he saw on Ichigo’s bed stopped him in his tracks. The ginger rested on his side with his torso bare of clothing. He clung to his covers as if they were a body, his fingers clawing at the sheets while his knuckles turned white. His legs were lively and kicked fitfully at the bed as if he were being attacked. Grimmjow could see how Ichigo’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. He could see how deeply the boy frowned, and even heard the faint whispers of a name that fell freely from his loose tongue. He saw all of this, but Grimmjow couldn’t look away from the tears that ran heavy streams down his face. The boy had nightmares, but he had never cried before. What could he possibly be dreaming about?

“Please...stop…please stop...Grimmjow…,” the boy whispered, his voice hitching as he choked on another sob.

Light blue eyes doubled in size. The boy was dreaming about him? The brat had never been scared of him before. Why was he having nightmares now?

Suddenly that female Soul Reaper entered his mind. A memory of his hand ripping through her flesh flickered in his memories, which caused him to grunt in understanding. That would explain it. The boy wasn’t scared of him, but of what he could do to his beloved friends. Figures. The brat never worried about himself. Being selfish was never in his agenda.

Well, he had enough of his pathetic whimpering.

Grimmjow raised his leg and smashed his foot into the end of human’s bed frame, causing the wood to crack in opposition as the whole bed shook. Ichigo jolted up, clutching his chest in fear as his large eyes searched for what caused him to wake.

“Gri...Grimmjow?”

Even his voice sounded frightened. What a moron.

“You were bein’ loud. I’m trying to sleep on that sh*tty couch of yours and your stupid nightmares or whatever aren’t helping. Now shut up and sleep quietly this time,” Grimmjow ordered.

Without another word he turned his back on the human and stormed back to the couch. Ichigo didn’t make another sound, something that Grimmjow was grateful for. Without the human’s whimpering he was able to finally fall asleep, albeit in an awkward position that was granted to hurt tomorrow.

Just as Grimmjow started to lightly snore, Ichigo’s voice ghost into the living room, “I’m sorry….”

Chapter 7: f*ck

Chapter Text

Bandaged knuckles tore through a bearded cheek. Blood soaked clashing skin tones. Hungry bellows tore through the gladiators’ mouths while the humans on the stands roared above them like thunder. Muscles strained as the two men became locked in a ferocious battle of strength. Just as one seemed to overcome the other the underdog took the upper hand, and then the roles reversed once again. There were a billion holes in both of their defenses, but apparently neither opponent could knock the other down. The whole fight was staged. A poorly executed and quite frankly pathetic attempt at giving humans a thrilling look at a true battle.

Why had Kurosaki chosen to watch this?

Grimmjow peeled his eyes away from the modestly sized television to peer at the ginger from the corner of his vision. The human sat on the floor with multiple textbooks and an array of notes cluttering the once clean coffee table with a hard working and humming laptop balanced on his thigh. Kurosaki hadn’t looked up from his homework since he turned the television on hours ago. It was like the boy had turned it on for his sake. As if something as bland and fake could ever hold his interest. Where were their weapons? Or their exclamations of hate? Why didn’t they spill each other’s guts and spray their audience in the weaker man’s blood? How could anyone watch something lacking such key moments? Grimmjow’s eyes glanced back at the screen just as one of the men trapped the other between his thighs, squeezing his head deeper and deeper into his crotch. The Arrancar quirked a brow. This was more like sex than it was fighting. It would actually explain why the fight was so uncoordinated and dull. It was like p*rnography. Cheap p*rnography.

Grimmjow turned his eyes to the ceiling as he rolled onto his back and huffed impatiently. Just how long was the human planning to study? A minute passed and Grimmjow started to tap his heel on the armrest. Two minutes slunk by and his eye began to twitch. Three minutes disappeared and his teeth strained under the strength in his tight jaw. Four minutes ticked and his foot struck the armrest harder as his hands tightened into fists. Five minutes of his time was wasted and caused a fire to burn in his eyes. Six minutes arrived and he snapped. His foot smashed down on the armrest and caused the weak furniture to crack and the sound, in turn, made Ichigo jump.

Kurosaki frowned, barely looking up from his work as if the Arrancar had only caused a minor inconvenience. “Grimmjow, don’t break the furniture. I don’t have the money to replace it,” he said.

“I should be breaking your face!” Grimmjow snapped, his anger making him sit up and glare at the boy, “Why the f*ck are you doing homework! We should be training! I thought you wanted your powers back!”

Apparently, during his five years of being powerless, Ichigo had grown to enjoy sighing. “I do, but I have a test in my forensics class on tuesday. I can’t fail it, it’s a third of my grade.”

A really stupid excuse, if you ask him. “What the f*ck does that matter! If you have your powers back you don’t need this school crap,” he argued.

“Grimmjow, I have to feed myself and live somewhere. For me being a Soul Reaper is only part of who I am. I live in the World of the Living and I have to provide that life for myself,” the ginger explained.

Was he serious?

“You serious?” Grimmjow asked.

“I am,” Ichigo confirmed with a nod, then popped the cap on a highlighter and colored four sentences in glowing pink.

He was very different from five years ago. Five years ago Ichigo—or “Fun Ichigo”—didn’t give a sh*t about school. At least not enough to hinder him from starting a war in Hueco Mundo. This Ichigo was different. He was always busy with homework and practically lived at the school. He was taking five classes at once, after all. The boy never did anything fun. It was sad.

Frowning to himself, Grimmjow turned his gaze away and scoffed. “Whatever, But you’re not gonna waste my time anymore. How do I get out of this damn Gigai thing? I’m f*cking starving and I can’t hunt and eat like this,” he said while his fingers pinched at the fake skin he wore.

That made Ichigo’s focus tear away from his work. “Whoa, you don’t mean that you’re going to eat...y’know?”

Grimmjow quirked an eyebrow once again. Why was he asking the question so timidly? Why was he even asking a question with such an obvious answer?

“Souls? Hollows? The f*ck do you think I eat? I may look human but appearance aside I’m still a Hollow,” Grimmjow scoffed.

“B-but you can’t! You can’t just eat a person!” Ichigo argued.

He wasn’t angry, instead, he looked panicked. Weird.

“Shut up. Don’t get so bent out of shape. I prefer Hollows over weak little Souls and living humans. You have nothing to worry about,” Grimmjow dismissed.

“That’s just as bad!” Ichigo exclaimed, “Hollows were once people, too! They can be cleansed and sent to the Soul Society! You can’t just kill them like that!”

“You can’t save everyone, damnit! It’s either me or them, and I choose me! I’m not gonna starve myself because you can’t handle reality,” Grimmjow snapped. For emphasis his stomach growled and a sudden wave of nausea washed over him. He had to eat soon. He needed to get out of this damn body.

“Well…,” Ichigo became thoughtful as he pushed his laptop onto the floor, “How about human food? I could make you something.”

“Listen to what you just said. Listen real closely. Especially the part where you said human, and then remember the fact that I’m not human,” Grimmjow replied dryly.

A soft chuckle hummed in Ichigo’s throat, the lovely sound causing Grimmjow’s ears to perk as his sneer melted away. A light smile dusted the ginger's lips, the sight foreign to the Arrancar, as the boy stood up. “I know that, Grimmjow. I’m not a complete idiot. While your normal body wouldn’t be able to eat human food, your Gigai can. At least that’s what I’m assuming. If Urahara didn’t give you a way to get out of the Gigai so you can feed, then he most likely made it possible for you to get nutrients with a different method. All of his Gigai’s are meant to function like normal human bodies so it would make sense if he found a way to sustain your soul form by converting human food to the correct molecular construction.”

Grimmjow blinked. “That sounds really f*cking stupid. And complicated,” he said.

Kurosaki shrugged, paying no mind to the insult. “He tends to work that way. It all usually pans out in the end, though.” The boy expertly gathered his long hair into a skillfully constructed bun and did his best to push the bangs out of his eyes. Grimmjow never knew why the boy bothered. His bangs always disrupted his vision unless he used a headband.

“Why would that bastard even go through all of that work to create something so intricate for me? I’m the enemy. I placed my sword at his throat and forced him to make this body.”

Grimmjow watched as the human entered the mini kitchen and pulled out pots and pans from cabinets. Each move was made expertly and without thought. Ingredients appeared one by one on the counter until Kurosaki was finally ready to cook. A wooden spoon flipped between Ichigo’s fingers as he gave himself a second to collect his thoughts. Grimmjow caught the way Ichigo’s hands handled each ingredient with the utmost care and skill that struck the Arrancar as familiar. He had seen this technique somewhere before. The human suddenly snapped his fingers and turned his back on Grimmjow to face a collection of cabinets and snuck his hand inside. Whatever he was looking for was far enough from his grasp to make the ginger push himself up onto his toes. That’s when it clicked. He moved like Yuzu, his sister. She must have taught him how to cook.

“Urahara likes to be challenged, and it’s not often he gets to experiment with an Arrancar. He probably gained a lot of intel from observations alone. He’s wickedly smart so there’s no telling what’s really up his sleeve,” Ichigo explained.

An uneasy emotion bubbled in Grimmjow’s stomach. He didn’t enjoy the thought of being someone’s experiment. He played lab rat for Aizen once and he didn’t plan to continue that kind of relationship with another ex-Soul Reaper anytime soon. Seeing how even Ichigo didn’t know the man’s motivations made the Arrancar that much more uncomfortable.

“Then how would you know whether or not he’s trying to starve me to death?” Grimmjow asked.

Another fruitless attempt at blowing orange bangs from brown eyes. “Urahara and I have a deal. If he were to go back on it...he knows the repercussions,” Ichigo replied.

Cryptic. Mysterious. Utterly useless information that lacked actual information. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

“Whatever. Just hurry up or else I’ll go Hollow hunting while wearing this meat suit,” Grimmjow ordered as he laid back down on the couch with his arms propped under his head.

A smile twitched on the boy’s lips. “Yes, your majesty,” he mocked.

A weird feeling bubbled in Grimmjow’s chest and his nose wrinkled from the sensation. That was an odd thing to experience. Hopefully this body hadn’t become defective from the lack of food. If it had, he was going to give that shady son of a bitch blonde a piece of his mind. Despite what Kurosaki said, Grimmjow couldn’t trust people as easily as the human did. You can’t trust the enemy.

Time passed between them in silence. All that was to be heard was the faint sizzle and pop of grease on a pan and the sounds of flesh cutting into bone echoing from the television. While Grimmjow admitted the faked battle on the screen didn’t hold his attention, he pretended to watch it, but he focused all of his energy into watching the human cook. Whatever he was making smelled good. Better than the sweetest Soul or the strongest and most seasoned Hollow. He took in a deep breath and nearly choked on a moan. It smelled like meat. Fresh meat. Hollows, when consumed, tended to have the taste and texture of meat, while Souls melted on the tongue. However, the meat Hollows were made of was bitter and decayed. It was the flesh of demonic carcasses cursed to roam the earth, it wouldn’t be expected to have the flavors of a cow or a pig. The smell filled Grimmjow’s lungs until his mouth became flooded with drool. Holy sh*t. Yuzu had never made anything this amazing before. Or maybe he hadn’t been hungry when she was cooking.

Grimmjow sat on the edge of the couch impatiently. He completely abandoned the television, along with pretending he wasn’t watching the boy. His leg bounced as he waited for Ichigo to finish. He was practically shaking at the thought of sinking his teeth deep into tender meat. It had been so long since he had looked forward to eating. It had also been awhile since he ate due to hunger, not strength or power.

It took forever before the boy finished. At least, it was forever for Grimmjow. He wasn’t used to waiting for his food to cook, he usually just hunted down a Hollow and...dug in. He’s never been this excited to eat before. Ichigo grabbed two bowls and scooped a healthy dose of sticky white rice into each bowl. Next, the ginger removed the steak from the pan and sliced up the meat with a sharp knife and divided the strips evenly between the two. He lined the edges of the bowl with steaming vegetables and to top it all off, he poured teriyaki sauce over all of it. Grimmjow swore he was vibrating. This body had to be defective.

After tossing all dirty cookware in the sink, the ginger finally came back to the living room with food and utensils in hand. “Careful, it’s a bit hot,” Ichigo said as he set a bowl before Grimmjow.

The human sat on a patch of floor across from Grimmjow, but the Arrancar was more engrossed with the food before him to demand space. It looked f*cking delicious. Not that he would ever give the boy a compliment. They weren’t friends and they weren’t allies. It was weird that the kid would even make him food in the first place. Grimmjow reached out slowly and picked up a vegetable with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. He expected the food to taste like ash, like human food always did on his tongue, but this was much worse. Grimmjow’s nose wrinkled as he chewed slowly and swallowed the offending morsel with a shiver.

“That was disgusting. I’d rather eat dirt,” Grimmjow said as another shiver raced through his body.

Hearty laughter warmed the air and caused Grimmjow to jump at the unexpected sound. Ichigo cackled with a massive grin stretched across his face, one that he tried to hide when he noticed Grimmjow was watching. The human was laughing? He never saw the boy do that before. Not even five years ago. Not that the boy had a reason to laugh around him back then.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ichigo snickered, wiping tears from his eyes while trying to calm himself down, “It’s okay if you don’t want to eat the vegetables. I didn’t figure you’d want to but I went ahead and put them in your bowl anyways. Try the steak. It might be more up your alley.”

Grimmjow sneered at the ginger. “Don’t tell me what to do, brat,” he snarled.

In the end, he did as Ichigo said and picked up the largest and juiciest piece of the steak and eyed it carefully. It looked a lot different from the vegetables, a good sign. He stared at it a few moments more, then slipped half of the strip between his lips and bit down. Heavenly juices flooded his mouth as the tender steak gave under his sharp teeth. Grimmjow’s eyes widened as his tongue became soaked with the teriyaki sauce and overwhelmed by the heavy flavors of the meat. It was almost too much. Almost.

Ichigo’s light brows shifted to his hairline when Grimmjow released a long and deep guttural moan and began shoving more strips of steak into his mouth. Holy sh*t he had never tasted anything so delicious before. Humans had it made. Grimmjow couldn’t stop shoving food into his mouth. He squeezed in as many strips of steak he could until his cheeks were stuffed and he had to concentrate on chewing. After he swallowed he dove in for more, smearing sauce along his face and hands in his urgency. Once all the meat was gone he sighed in satisfaction, and a little bit of loss, and licked each finger clean with a comical pop. He eyed the rice left in his bowl, having picked out the vegetables and set them aside, and tentatively plucked a sticky bundle and put it on his tongue. Not bad. Not as great as the steak, but far better than the vegetables. However, he was having a hard time getting the rice to his mouth.

“Try using the chopsticks,” Ichigo mocked around a mouthful of vegetables, a soft smirk on his lips.

Grimmjow shot the boy a glare but picked up the chopsticks and stared. How was he supposed to use these?

Ichigo cleared his throat and the Arrancar looked up. The human held his chopsticks side by side and then pulled them apart in a slow tearing motion.

Oh.

Grimmjow’s eyes lowered back to his utensils. He followed Kurosaki’s instructions and with a little pressure the chopsticks split apart. The Arrancar smiled to himself, but then paused. Now what? How would he use these?

“Here, let me show you,” Ichigo offered.

Suddenly, warm hands took hold of his and a fire roared through Grimmjow’s body. With a panicked stutter of his heart Grimmjow ripped his hands away with a snarl and a threatening glare.

“Don’t touch me, Kurosaki!” he spat, “I can do it myself!”

The ginger held his hands up in surrender, but he didn’t seem to be frightened of the Arrancar’s outburst. “My bad. Sorry,” Ichigo said with a shrug. A shrug. As if the Hollow wasn’t threatening in the least. Grimmjow didn’t want the brat to be terrified of him or anything, people don’t fight when they’re scared, they run. That's not what Grimmjow wanted. At the same time, though, it was really annoying that the human was treating him like an old friend.

With his head down Grimmjow struggled to find a way to make the chopsticks work by relying on memories of the Kurosaki family (minus Ichigo) eating dinner using said utensil. He had to cheat by stealing a glance at Kurosaki to perfect the technique, but eventually he was eating rice with a confident and smug smirk on his face. Although he did drop food here and there.

Brown eyes traced the sticky mess on Grimmjow’s cheeks and lips and then down at the grains of rice clinging to his ripped jeans. Ichigo was suddenly struck with realization on just how much those jeans exposed the Arrancar. Sure, Ichigo had jeans with a few rips and tears here and there, but the rips on the Arrancar’s jeans pretty much exposed most of his legs. Combined with Grimmjow’s sleeveless shirt, he was just about as naked in these clothes as he was in his Arrancar uniform. The thought alone caused the boy to snicker.

Grimmjow’s ears twitched at the sound and he scowled. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. You’re just...different when you’re not trying to kill me,” Ichigo replied. It wasn’t a lie, but it definitely wasn’t what he was thinking about.

The Arrancar glared viciously at Ichigo until the small smile on his face melted away. “Who said I wasn’t? Just because I’m helping you get your powers back doesn’t mean sh*t. We aren’t friends, Kurosaki. The moment you have your powers back I’m going to rip that bleeding heart out of your chest and shove it down your throat until you choke. You read me?” Grimmjow hissed.

The lump in the ginger’s throat bobbed. Grimmjow wasn’t smiling. His face was dead serious and his eyes held a lethal promise. He really wasn’t kidding.

Kurosaki lowered his eyes and nodded while picking at his food, but didn’t eat.

“Understood.”

Chapter 8: Extensive Storytelling

Chapter Text

“Enough of this waiting around bullsh*t, Kurosaki. If you want your powers back we have to start training now,” Grimmjow stated firmly. Yesterday had been a waste of his time. Yes, the food was delicious, but that was the only decent thing that came out of those twenty-four hours. Cutting Ichigo with his sword would be much more enjoyable.

“I agree. I finished all of my studying and homework yesterday so I could dedicate today and tomorrow to training. I even asked off work,” Ichigo replied.

Okay. Grimmjow hadn’t expected that. He honestly thought the human might give him some pushback. He was glad he was wrong.

“Alright then. We need two things: an open space to train and a way to get me out of this stupid body,” Grimmjow listed, lifting a finger for each item.

“Urahara has an underground training center below his shop. If he let’s us use it we wouldn’t have any interruptions from Hollows or people. We could fight at full strength and we wouldn’t make a dent to the place,” Ichigo offered. The boy hadn’t even needed to think about it before he answered. He had been planning this. Good. That meant Kurosaki was serious about his training.

“That settles the where. What about me getting out of this body? Our training isn’t going to rely on physical forms,” Grimmjow said.

“Urahara has Gikongan that we can use, which actually might come in handy if you ever need to leave your body for long periods of time. He should also have Gokon Tekkō which is a more forceful way to get you out of your body.”

“Don’t care how, just as long as it gets done. We have the where and the how so let’s get going,” Grimmjow said as he cracked his knuckles one by one in anticipation. He was getting excited. They wouldn’t be able to do much fighting in the beginning stages of training, but it was better than nothing.

The ginger quirked a brow. “You do realize that it’s a three hour drive from here, right?”

Grimmjow immediately deflated. Right. They would have to take a car. Ichigo couldn’t even use shunpo in his current state. This was going to be irritating.

“I’ll pack us some snacks and some CDs and then we can head out,” Ichigo said with a light smile dusting his lips, as if Grimmjow’s reaction had been funny to him.

Once they were finally on the road their usual silence in the apartment now filled the car. It would have been a comfortable silence fused with the soft beats of music echoing from the radio, if Grimmjow hadn’t been so tense. This machine made him uncomfortable and oddly nauseous. He wasn’t really frightened, if there was a wreck he knew just exactly would survive between him and the vehicle, but he didn’t like not having control of his body or where it was going. Trusting someone else to take him to a destination safely was unthinkable. Generally among the Hollows that in itself was unheard of. Hollows don’t entrust their lives in others. Trusting others means gambling with your own life. Gambling on its own is bad, gambling with a Hollow is even worse. Assuming someone won’t kill you, kills you faster than killing yourself.

Grimmjow’s nails dug deep into the worn and faded vinyl seat as the car suddenly swerved to avoid a reckless driver.

“Holy sh*t! Where the f*ck did you learn to drive, man!” Ichigo shouted as he layed on his horn, glaring as the driver quickly retreated. Ichigo watched the car recede into the distance in his rear view mirror and scoffed, “Dumbass.”

Brown eyes flicked over to Grimmjow at a passing glance, then jumped right back to the Arrancar.

“Grimmjow? Dude, are you okay?” Ichigo asked.

The Arrancar’s nails tore at the vinyl, the black fabric ripping with ease under his strength. “‘M fine,” he pushed through his teeth. His jaw couldn’t even part to speak.

“Dude, you’re shaking,” Ichigo pressed, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern.

“I’m not shaking! Just shut up and keep your damn eyes on the road!” Grimmjow snapped.

In the distance a lazy stray cat wandered into the street and Grimmjow’s breath hitched, eyes widening. They were going to hit it. Grimmjow clenched his eyes tightly, fingers gutting the seat as he braced himself for the impact.

But it never came.

The car came to a screeching halt and threw Grimmjow’s body forward. He expected the worst. Fly through the window and spend hours removing glass from his skin while trying to wash the memories of cars and pancaked cats from his brain. Instead, a strong arm lashed out and caught him, a steady hand pushing his chest and forcing him back into the seat’s embrace.

“What the f*ck! This is why I don’t drive. C’mon, whiskers! You know you shouldn’t be in the road!” Ichigo called out, as if the cat could comprehend what he was saying.

Hell, Japanese was Grimmjow’s first language and he still didn’t know what the hell just happened. His light blue eyes watched as the cat cast them a dismissive glance and continued to cross the street at a calm pace. Once the cat reached the sidewalk safely Grimmjow’s eyes shot down to his chest. The ginger’s warm hand rested on the far left of his chest and continued to hold the Arrancar in place. The boy was protecting him?

Ichigo sighed and turned to Grimmjow with a worried frown on his lips. “Are you okay? You look whiter than your mask. Well, the mask you normally have on your face,” Ichigo chuckled softly. His hand moved across Grimmjow’s chest to pat his shoulder in tune with the rare jingle.

Grimmjow bristled at the familiarity and slapped the boy’s hand away with a snarl. “Stop touching me! I told you I’m fine! You’re the one who can’t f*cking drive!”

The smile on Ichigo’s face immediately vanished at the Arrancar’s hostile tone. His brows furrowed, far deeper than they usually did, and a stony mask overtook his face. “Alright. Sorry. I’ll just drive,” Ichigo muttered.

The car lurched forward and Grimmjow flinched, his hands latching onto his seat once more as a pathetic squeak escaped his lips. Ichigo stole a quick glance at the Arrancar. Upon seeing the way Grimmjow clung to his seat his stony mask collapsed. The boy took in a deep breath and exhaled before carrying on with a light voice.

“Want to talk about something to keep your mind off the car? We’ve got a long ways to go, anyways, and I’m sure you have questions for me,” Ichigo offered.

Grimmjow hated it when someone tried to help him, not that people often did. His Fracción, as loyal as they were to him, had always tried to offer him support whenever he entered a trial of any variety. He always refused, of course. He never understood why they wanted to help. He never needed it. He hadn’t deserved it. Grimmjow winced and buried his thoughts deep into the back of his mind. He had to focus.

“You’re powers,” Grimmjow replied slowly after he found his voice, “how did you get them?”

Ichigo’s eyes became thoughtful and distant. A fragile smile lifted his lips, like an old woman flipping through a scrapbook of ancient and cherished memories.

“Well, that’s kind of a long story. It all started when I was fifteen and I met a Soul Reaper named Rukia Kuchiki….”

Grimmjow had intended to tune the human out and use his voice as background noise to help him relax. The Arrancar never expected to become so engrossed in a story about a Soul Reaper. Ichigo told him how Rukia sacrificed herself to save him, allowing herself to be bitten by a Hollow to protect a boy she didn’t know. Ichigo explained the guilt he felt when he realized his family had nearly died because of his spiritual pressure, and that a Soul Reaper became wounded on his behalf. The ginger retold how he became a Soul Reaper with a twisted grimace on his face, remembering the intense pain of a blade cutting through his body, through his heart, and setting every atom in his being on fire as an intense power flooded his body until the mortal one gave out. As the story continued on the boy began to share more and more, but not just about himself. He reflected on Rukia’s powerlessness and how the girl thought he never noticed her frustration of being a mere human, and how he couldn’t help blame himself for her struggle. His friends he spoke of with pride, praising their bravery as they stepped into a world of monsters with newfound abilities. The friends that remained human and unknowing of his abilities he mentioned in remorse, hating that he had kept it a secret from them for so long. Grimmjow had been so engaged with the human’s story that he couldn’t help but hold his breath when he began the story of Rukia’s arrest by her own brother and eldest friend.

The story of gaining his powers eventually bled into the story of how he rescued the Soul Reaper from her own people. Every detail of every second spent in the Soul Society was spoken so clearly it was almost as if the boy had just come back from the rescue mission. The ginger shared his scars the further he delved into the memory. A long sleeve was pushed up to expose a pink line extending from his elbow to his wrist, given to him by Ikkaku. The loose collar of his turquoise hoodie was pulled aside to reveal the massive scar on his shoulder, one that appeared to have been reopened multiple times and matched the marks on the other shoulder, lovingly given to him by Renji and company. The boy spoke of each scar with a smile, addressing each man responsible with a friendly story and funny factoid. Ichigo didn’t hold a single ounce of bitterness against them. By the end of his tale Grimmjow was in awe, although he would never admit it. The ginger had almost taken down the entire Soul Society by himself, with hardly any training whatsoever, and each and every one of his enemies were mentioned as friends. As if he had forgiven them for everything they ever did to him and his comrades.

Grimmjow’s eyes rested on his own hands. He now kind of understood why the boy was treating him as a friend and not an enemy. Kurosaki figured all of that was behind them. This was the part of the story where they became allies instead of enemies. Grimmjow’s jaw tightened. That wasn’t going to happen.

“Hey Grimmjow, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow shot the boy a confused look. “What would you want to know about me?”

“Well, I know about Hollows and I know about Menos, but no one really knows anything above that,” Ichigo’s hand reached out to protect Grimmjow from another rough stop, but his hand immediately retreated upon seeing the look on the Arrancar’s face, “What I’m curious about is how you became an Arrancar. It didn’t seem like the process was completely natural and I wanna know how you and the others were able to achieve it.”

Grimmjow’s lips thinned at the question. Sour memories tortured his mind and caused sweat to bead on his forehead. His fingers clutched the seat tightly. “Next question.”

He could feel the human’s eyes studying his face but he didn’t give up any information. That was a topic he didn’t want to discuss with anyone. Much less his enemy.

“Okay...how did you learn the name of your zanpakutō? And what’s the nature of an Arrancar’s zanpakutō? Instead of shikai and bankai you guys kinda fuse with your weapons, which Soul Reapers can do too, but it’s a one off thing,” Ichigo chuckled, the sound tight and pained.

That was a question Grimmjow could answer. “None of the Arrancar’s learned the name of their zanpakutō. We already knew the names. They’re our names,” Grimmjow replied.

The ginger’s face scrunched in confusion. “Isn’t your zanpakutō called Pantera?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, the perplexion in Kurosaki’s voice distracting enough to ease his grip on the seat. “I don’t mean our human names. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez didn’t mean sh*t to me when I was a Hollow. Think about it. Every Hollow you fought had a name they went by. Even if they were lucky enough to remember their old life, they still hid their identity behind a cover name. Pantera was mine. Some Hollows name themselves, others are named by Soul Reapers, and a few gain names by reputation from other Hollows. I gained mine by reputation,” Grimmjow explained. It was odd. He never really thought about how he gained the name Pantera. He vaguely remembers when other Hollows began to address him with that name. It was right after he had taken down five Soul Reapers by himself. He didn’t really understand why the Hollows praised him for such an easy defeat. They were all greenhorns. Babies that could barely wield a sword.

“Huh. I never really thought of that before. I usually didn’t learned the names of Hollows until after I took them down,” the boy winced and looked at the Arrancar as if asking for forgiveness, “No offense.”

Grimmjow shrugged. He didn’t care. Hollows weren’t loyal to each other. They had no reason to be. It wasn’t like Ichigo was the first Soul Reaper who didn’t care to learn their names.

“So...Grimmjow is your human name? Did you always remember it or did you remember after you became an Arrancar?” Ichigo asked slowly.

“Remembered it when I became a Menos Grande. Not that I had a need for it,” Grimmjow said with another shrug.

“Do you remember anything else about your human life? About who you were?” Ichigo paused at a red light.

“No,” Grimmjow watched as two birds chased a swarm of butterflies, crushing them with their sharp beaks, “I remember my first victim, though. A little blonde girl with blue eyes, looked to be about six years old, wearing a peach patterned sundress.”

The silence between them made it hard to breathe. The light turned green but the car didn’t move. Ichigo’s hands tightened on the wheel while Grimmjow continued to watch the birds tear each insect apart wing by wing, acting like he didn’t notice the tears threatening to spill from Ichigo’s eyes. Grimmjow knew the implications of his own words. He was aware of the pattern all Hollows followed when they first changed. The little girl could have been his sister. She could have been his niece. She could have been his very own daughter. He didn’t know for sure and he wasn’t ever going to. That girl had been important to him once, but it didn’t matter anymore.

A car behind them honked and Ichigo jumped. “f*ck,” the ginger cursed, scrubbing the tears from his eyes as he moved the car forward.

Grimmjow’s blue eyes watched as the birds flew away, their bellies fat with their massive feast.

“U-um,” Ichigo coughed as he struggled to clear the lump in his throat, “What’s the nature of your zanpakutō? Soul Reapers can cleanse Hollows and Konsō Souls...can Hollows do the same thing? Or the opposite?”

Grimmjow shook his head. “Our zanpakutō only have one function, which is to bring out more of our power and our true form. That’s why you think of it as a fusion, but it isn’t. The zanpakutō is literally a part of our bodies. It’s not really fusion since it’s already a part of us, more like...completing our forms. Like, you can’t be a Hollow without a mask kind of thing,” a twisted smirk crept along his lips, “Doesn’t mean it was easy. Since, technically, Arrancars are a mix between a Hollow and a Soul Reaper—that thought alone is repulsive—merging with our zanpakutōs wasn’t easy by any means.

“It was grotesque and hard work. After I became an Arrancar I immediately set out to become stronger, which meant I had to merge with my zanpakutō,” laughter burst from Grimmjow’s lips and caught the ginger off guard, “I nearly f*cking died on my first try. My zanpakutō completely rejected me. Blew all my ribs through my skin, ripped all the muscle in my arms, and my legs were broken and angled in three different directions. Luckily all damage that been done from trying to reconnect was reversed the moment I stopped forcing it. It was like the zanpakuto was warning me of what I would become if I continued. Each time I tried to access my old abilities I was disfigured beyond belief. The number of times my bones shattered would’ve reduced me to dust if the wounds didn’t reverse. I can literally describe my own guts in full detail, I saw them spilling from me so many times. At one point every drop of blood in my body stained the sand, but always returned the moment I let go of my sword. It normally takes six months for an Arrancar to reach Resurrección. I finished prematurely, just two months. Most of the Espada finished in three or four. Ulquiorra took up almost a whole year.”

Ichigo’s brows knitted together. “A year? But Aizen only left the Soul Society for a few months. Like, four at the most.”

Grimmjow shook his head. “Aizen came to us years ago, almost a hundred for some Arrancar. He didn’t have the second Hōgyoku until he left the Soul Society, and that’s what completed our evolution, hence why it was difficult for us to merge with our zanpakutō. Our Arrancar form’s weren’t always a pleasing human design. They looked human-ish. Heavy emphasis on the ish. Rather disgusting, actually. Even I’ll admit that. My face marginally still looked like a large feline, but with human skin stretched over the somewhat flattened facial structure instead of fur and the corners of my lips reached all the way back to my ears,” Grimmjow smirked at the ginger, “You can imagine how nasty my Resurrección attempts were on top of my old ghoulish mug.”

Ichigo blinked before smirking back at the Arrancar. “Old? You mean this is a new ghoulish mug?”

Grimmjow couldn’t help but grin at the jab. “Don’t be so smug. You’re kinda ugly too.”

It was a lie. A big, fat, obvious lie, but for some reason it was worth it to hear the ginger laugh again.

Chapter 9: Questions and Arrangements

Chapter Text

The instant the car came to a full stop Grimmjow threw the door open and burst free. He damn near kissed the ground at that point. Ichigo on the other hand was slower to retreat from the metal death trap. His movements were sluggish and uncoordinated, his eyes too busy staring at the building before him to really care about his surroundings. The ginger took in a deep breath and sighed, a hand snaking into his hair and scratching at his skull. A nervous tick he had picked up from his father, no doubt. Grimmjow had seen the doctor to the same thing multiple times.

“What? Are you getting cold feet, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow sneered.

“No. It’s just...been a while since I last saw this place,” Ichigo said, his eyes starting to glaze.

Grimmjow’s nose wrinkled as he took another step away from the car. “You’re not gonna get all emotional and weepy on me, are you? Cuz I ain’t dealin’ with that sh*t.”

His crass words caused a chuckle to bubble from Ichigo’s throat and the glazed look in his eyes disappeared. “Nah. I wouldn’t want you to console me anyways. I have a feeling you’re encouragement would be along the lines of a rough punch and a new bruise on my body,” he mocked.

“Don’t need a delicate touch when you’re dead,” Grimmjow agreed with a shrug.

Ichigo snickered, the sound sparking a weird flicker of pride in Grimmjow’s chest. He hated this weird ass body. The moment he saw that f*cking blonde he was going to demand for a body that actually functioned correctly.

“Guess there’s no use in putting this off,” Ichigo murmured. Grimmjow couldn’t tell if the ginger was talking to himself or not. Then again, no one knew how sharp his hearing was. The ones who had known were now dead.

Ichigo approached the building nervously, his eyes locked on the door as his hands disappeared deep into the pockets of his jeans. It was an odd sight to behold. It was also incredibly annoying. Grimmjow lifted his foot high and planted it firmly on Ichigo’s behind, shoving the ginger forward and causing Kurosaki to stumble and land shoulder first against the door.

“Ow! Son of a bitch—what the hell, Grimmjow?” Ichigo snapped as he rubbed his newly bruised shoulder.

“Stop actin’ like a weak little bitch and get to it. You want your powers back, don’t you?” Grimmjow demanded.

The nervous look in Ichigo’s eyes disappeared completely and was replaced with a steady resolve. Good. The human looked better that way. Kurosaki straightened his back and released his shoulder as he held his head high. Confidence. That was another good sign. Grimmjow couldn’t believe it, but he actually missed the human’s smug attitude. Sure, it pissed him off, but it was better than his current state which was defenseless, weak, and pathetic. A defiant Kurosaki was much more desired than a meek Kurosaki.

Ichigo raised his hand to knock on the door, but before his knuckles could brush against the wood the door slid aside. The blonde man drenched green stood before them, green eyes widening upon seeing Ichigo’s face.

“Ich—Kurosaki?” the man breathed in disbelief.

Ichigo chuckled shyly and his hanging hand snaked it’s way back into the ginger’s long hair. “Hey, Urahara. It’s been awhile, huh?”

At the sound of the boy’s voice the man’s frozen body melted. Calloused hands snatched Ichigo’s shirt and yanked him forward, pulling the boy into a warm embrace with strong arms holding him close. The blonde rested his cheek upon Kurosaki’s shoulder and smiled faintly, the expression so sweet Grimmjow’s eyes were forced to look away. “It’s good to see you, Ichigo.”

Ichigo was paralyzed in the man’s arms, his touch foreign but not at all unwelcome. Eventually the ginger moved into action and latched onto Urahara’s waist like a snake that wouldn’t release. The boy’s fingers stretched the fabric on the ex-Soul Reaper’s back as he hugged the man with every ounce of strength in his being while hiding his face on the man’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you too, Urahara,” Ichigo whispered.

Urahara smiled once more. His hand rubbed Ichigo’s back at a soothing pace as their hug continued. The contact lasted long enough for Grimmjow to tear his eyes away from the sight once again. Affection between people had always made Grimmjow uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Arrancars and Hollows walked around holding hands or kissed each other’s cheeks. Affection wasn’t something they felt or showed. Except for a select few. Normally, a Hollow wouldn’t have anyone to be affectionate with. By then they would have devoured anything that mattered to them and those feelings, familial or friendly or romantic, would be long gone. Seeing his enemy embracing a beloved friend—the one who taught him to wield a sword, his master—was enough to cause a nauseating twist in his stomach.

To Grimmjow’s relief the two finally parted, although the sugary, shining smiles on their faces remained in place. At least they weren’t touching anymore. Just as soon as his hopes of getting closer to training started to rise, they were instantly deflated by meaningless small talk.

“Jinta and Ururu miss you a lot,” Urahara said.

Ichigo laughed and shook his head. “Jinta misses me? For some reason I doubt that.”

“He cares for you more than he lets on, as do most people who meet you, Kurosaki,” Urahara pointed out.

“I can’t win everyone over with a dazzling smile. It definitely didn’t work on Aizen,” Ichigo snickered.

At the mention of the ex-Soul Reaper the smile on Urahara’s face faded away and a solemn film covered the man’s eyes. Apparently he hadn’t found Kurosaki’s joke to be as funny as the boy did. Green eyes suddenly tore away from the ginger and landed on the figure behind him. The veil covering Urahara’s eyes vanished and the moss colored irises sharpened into a deadly glare. Even in this powerless Gigai, completely at the mighty ex—Soul Reaper’s mercy, Grimmjow wasn’t impressed in the slightest.

“It seems you’ve brought an,” Urahara’s eyes raked over Grimmjow’s form, the distrust and hate burning holes in his body as he searched for the appropriate term, “old acquaintance with you.”

Ichigo glanced back at Grimmjow, as if he had forgotten he was there, and then turned back to the blonde. “Urahara, before you say anything, we’re—.”

“How are you enjoying that body, Mr. Arrancar?” The man’s appearance changed drastically as a bright smile plastered across his face, but the threat in his eyes didn’t dissipate, “I hope you aren’t finding the Gigai too challenging.”

Normally, Grimmjow wouldn’t have allowed himself to get riled up so easily, but his hunger for battle paired with his poor self control severed every last restraint he had. “To be honest I think a man made stuffed animal would’a been a better body than this shoddy sockpuppet of a meat suit, but I had limited options,” Grimmjow sneered.

“I’d be more than happy to make alterations,” Urahara’s spiritual pressure suddenly came alive and poured down on Grimmjow like oozing red poison, “I could make your body look similar to a fabulous work of art. Perhaps something by Picasso.”

Grimmjow’s teeth ached under the strain of his angry jaw. Before he could spit back a burning insult a lean body moved to stand in front of him to guard him—to protect him—from the blonde’s wrath.

“Urahara that’s enough!” Ichigo’s words were barked in anger, the tone alarming enough for the blonde’s glare to falter. “We made a deal! Don’t you dare go back on it!”

Ichigo was powerless. No spiritual pressure. No sword. No hope of defeating Urahara in a fight. Yet for some reason the blonde backed down. His stubbled jaw tightened and his spiritual pressure lowered, washing Grimmjow free of the poisonous sensation.

“My apologies, Kurosaki. Apparently as I continue to age the control on my anger has been stretched thin,” Urahara said, his heated eyes glaring at Grimmjow one last time before tearing away.

“No excuses, Urahara. Don’t break our deal,” Ichigo ordered, as if he actually had authority, “Grimmjow is with me. He’s helping me, so in turn I don’t want you or any of the others messing with him. Got it?”

“Helping you? You make friends in odd places, Kurosaki, but in him?” Urahara lifted his cane to point it in Grimmjow’s direction, “You do remember what that Arrancar did to Miss. Kuchiki, right?”

Ichigo didn’t skip a beat to reply. “I have scars from fighting Renji and from battling Byakuya and Kenpachi—from nearly every damn Soul Reaper in the Soul Society—from fighting you. We’ve all fought for the wrong reasons, Urahara. You know that.”

Urahara sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again Grimmjow expected to see defeat and resistance in his eyes, but instead he was surprised to see pride pulsing in those lush irises as he looked upon Kurosaki. “Not all of us have fought for the wrong reasons,” Urahara corrected, his voice soft and surprisingly gentle for a Soul Reaper. At least, kinder than what Grimmjow had received in his experiences.

The blonde tilted his head to motion them inside. “Come on in. It’s better to not discuss these things in public,” he said.

“Oh yeah, because your alleyway is just bustling with people,” Grimmjow scoffed, offering his final jab before they got down to business. The way Kurosaki snickered and shot him a playful smirk, however, caused his resentful attitude to stagger.

“What can I do for you, Kurosaki?” Urahara asked as he settled onto a green mat. Ichigo quickly joined him, but Grimmjow chose to stay standing to distance himself from the two.

“There’s two things we need from you, and we have a favor to ask,” Ichigo replied. He sat with his back straight and his head held high. His eyes solid and steady. His face calm, collected, and serious. He was still young and handsome, but his aura read far beyond his actual years.

Huh. Grimmjow had always found the boy’s demeanor odd, but now more so than ever. Five years ago Ichigo had been a hot headed teenager diving headfirst into trouble with one simple plan in mind: to win. A crude and rash plan, but an effective one, Grimmjow had to admit. Now, that hasty and undisciplined teenager was gone and was instead replaced with a mature and refined man. Ichigo’s was no longer a Soul Reaper, yet the ginger carried himself like a highly decorated and seasoned soldier. Which, now that Grimmjow knows the boy’s background and had seen Kurosaki start a war first hand, he knew it wasn’t far from the truth.

“What would those be?” Urahara asked, his interest peaked.

“Grimmjow needs a Gikongan or a Kaizō Konpaku, doesn’t matter which as long he can leave his body and the body stays inhabited. If neither is accessible then a Gokon Tekkō will have to do,” Ichigo said.

Grimmjow was quickly growing bored. Negotiations were never his thing. He was the kind of guy who would crush his enemies and take what he wanted. That’s how he got his Gigai, after all. He wasn’t the type of guy who would discuss and bargain in hopes of gaining what he desired.

Urahara rubbed his whiskered chin and hummed as he thought deeply about Ichigo’s requests. “I don’t think I have any Gikongan on hand, but I can get you a Kaizō Konpaku no problem and can even toss in a Gokon Tekkō for you, but before I do that I would like to know why you want Mr. Arrancar to be able to leave his body. I took precaution in deluding his strength for a reason. In my opinion, letting him out doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Urahara said with a shrug.

“Grimmjow doesn’t have any interest in slaughtering humans if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ichigo said with a soft chortle, laughing at the thought. Grimmjow was quickly noticing that Kurosaki held him to high standards that he couldn’t meet.

“That was not my main concern, no,” Urahara said, his meaningful words causing Ichigo’s laugh to disappear, “Why do you want him to be able to leave his Gigai?”

Ichigo’s eyes dropped down to his lap. “Grimmjow is...he’s going to help me regain my powers.”

Kurosaki didn’t move his eyes from his lap, but he seemed able to sense the disheartened and torn atmosphere surrounding his teacher. Urahara stared at Ichigo for a long time, but he finally took in a deep breath and released it in a long, drawn out and sigh. “If I had any power in this decision, I would refuse to help you,” Ichigo’s fingers clawed at his jeans, but Urahara continued, “However, during all the years that I’ve known you, I’ve noticed that you tend to find a way to get what you want even if you’re told no. I’ll give you everything you need.”

A relieved smile brushed across Ichigo’s lips as he loosened his white knuckled grip on his jeans. “Thank you, Urahara.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t told me what the favor is,” Urahara warned.

“Oh, well,” Ichigo cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his dignified composure, “Grimmjow and I want to use your training grounds. It’s the only place I know of that we can train and not harm humans or cause serious damage to the town.”

Urahara pursed his lips, but he didn’t think nearly as long as he had before. “Alright. Fine. But I have two rules. First of all, I will be present for all training. No excuses. Second, each training session will last only two hours and you can only have one session per day. If you refuse to accept them you will not have access to the training grounds.”

Grimmjow couldn’t remain silent any longer. “Two hours? That’s ridiculous! You can’t get anything done in just two hours!” he argued.

Urahara barely cast him a glance. “If you can’t get done what you need too in two hours then you aren’t fit to train anyone at all.”

Anger bubbled in Grimmjow’s veins as he parted his teeth to snarl a reply, but was silenced by Ichigo raising his hand. If the human weren’t so weak he’d cero his ass for that.

“We agree. Two hours is more than fair,” Ichigo said with a nod.

Urahara hummed in reply. “That’s settled, then. You may use my training grounds whenever you wish, as long as you meet my terms.”

“No problem,” Ichigo replied.

“f*ckin’ finally!” Grimmjow scoffed in exasperation. His hand snatched Ichigo’s wrist and yanked the surprised ginger to his feet. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Let’s get to work.”

“You can’t use the training grounds just yet,” Urahara said, bursting the bubble of excitement that had formed around Grimmjow, “I don’t have the proper medicines to heal and mend wounds, nor do we know of Kurosaki’s limitations. You can’t fight until I’m prepared.”

“You have to be f*cking kidding—!”

Grimmjow’s enraged words were quickly silenced by Urahara’s cane being placed under his chin, the end threatening to touch his throat. The heavy aura dripping from the cane screamed violently of a vicious warning—no, a promise—of death. It was as if the man had placed a blade against his throat.

“Make no mistake, Mr. Arrancar, I didn’t do this for you. If it weren’t for the agreement I made with Kurosaki, you wouldn’t be standing here. Either you follow my conditions or you don’t train here,” Urahara stated tartly.

The cane was suddenly swatted away by Ichigo’s hand, the scowl on his face deepening as his mood soured. “Enough. We get it, Kisuke. We’ll give you a week to get prepared. Is that enough time?”

The blonde searched Ichigo’s eyes once more. With a sigh the man’s shoulders sagged and he nodded. “If that’s what you want, then yes. Wait right here.”

Once Urahara disappeared Ichigo’s started to scratch the back of his head, all signs of a decorated soldier gone. “I should’ve called ahead. I wasted so much time coming here,” he groaned.

“Ichigo?”

The ginger froze, then lifted his eyes from the floor to gawk at a young man with a heavy crate in his arms. “K-Kon?”

The crate crashed to the floor with an echoed crack as all the contents inside spilled across the floor. The brunette continued to stare at Ichigo with large blue eyes before suddenly rushing forward to tackle the ginger in a passionate hug. Grimmjow’s nose wrinkled as he took a few steps back. Affection seemed to follow this boy around.

“Ichigo! I haven’t seen you in ages! Where the hell have you been!” the brunette demanded. The question was serious, and the punch Ichigo received to his arm was rough, but the smile on the brunette’s face was blinding.

“Doing the same thing I’ve always done. Work and school and school and work,” Ichigo laughed, “But what about you, Kon? You’ve got your own body now!”

Kon chuckles, a light dusting of a blush ghosting over his cheeks. Now that Grimmjow had a closer look, the brunette looked a lot like Kurosaki. He was lean and fit with the same soft features to the face and the same shape of the eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended. This man—Kon—was almost half a foot shorter than Kurosaki. While their eyes were the same shape, Kon had blue eyes where as Ichigo had brown. Their hair was very different, too. Kon’s hair was roughly the same length as Ichigo’s, but the locks were curly and brown, not unruly and orange. This boy hadn’t been around the Kurosaki household and Ichigo never mentioned a brother, so there was no way Kon was related, but there was no denying that they looked alike.

“Yeah. After you left for college I moved here. Urahara made me this body and in turn I work in the shop for him. I, ah, hope you don’t mind that I requested to look a bit like you,” Kon chuckles as he scratches the back of his head the same way Kurosaki did, “I got so used to wearing your face that it felt weird to have anything different.”

“I don’t mind at all,” a cheeky grin slithered along Ichigo’s face, “Besides, with that stunt you pulled in high school my reputation is already ruined. You’ll just be another weird kid from the Kurosaki family.”

Grimmjow wasn’t sure the boy noticed it, or was even aware of the power his words held over the brunette. After claiming him to be a Kurosaki, Kon’s face lit up, his eyes shining and the teeth in his smile sparkling. It was honestly hard to look at.

His happiness didn’t last forever.

The brunette’s eyes flickered to Grimmjow and the smile on his lips turned into an uncomfortable and wary frown. Kon drew his arms close to himself in a defensive manner and seemed like he wanted to hide behind Ichigo for protection, but hesitated as if to stop himself. Like he was reminding himself that Ichigo couldn’t protect him anymore.

“Uh, Ichigo, I know I’m not in the right place to judge people based on species, but are you sure you’ll be safe with an Arrancar?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. They were all the same. Every last one of them. “I’m not gonna kill him until he’s strong enough to fight back,” he stated, “If you had been this serious about keepin’ Kurosaki safe in the first place, there’s no way he would’ve lost his powers.”

Kon visibly flinched and Ichigo frowned. “Grimmjow, that’s not fair. I decided on my own to give up my powers. It’s not their fault,” Ichigo corrected.

Blue eyes studied Kurosaki’s freckled face before turning away with an unsociable grunt. Kurosaki was dense. He made far too many excuses for his so called friends.

Before anyone could utter another word, Urahara entered the room with small paper bag, the top folded neatly and the store name printed in red lettering on the side. “Kon, you need to pick up that crate you dropped before Tessai trips on it,” Kisuke said, offering a chance for the boy to escape.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry about that, Mr. Urahara,” Kon mumbled, nearly scrambling to gather the goods in his rush to avoid Grimmjow’s judgmental gaze. When the boy finally left Grimmjow couldn’t help but snort to himself. He understood why that one needed Ichigo’s protection, but so far he was the only one.

“Before I give this to you, Ichigo, I do have a little question to ask you,” Urahara said.

Question marks danced above the ginger’s head. “A question? What do you want to know?”

The man’s face was serious, drawn and tired, which exposed his actual age that his hat and grin usually covered. “Why haven’t you been visiting your family, Ichigo? I know your sisters miss you and your father...he’s worried about you.”

The change in Ichigo’s attitude was instant. His anger was horribly masked as his jaw locked and hands curled into tight fists. Grimmjow hadn’t seen the human this angry in five years. Ichigo violently snatched the bag from Urahara’s surprised hands, his anger seeming to increase the longer he looked at the man.

“Goodbye, Urahara. See you in a week,” Ichigo hissed as he stormed away.

Grimmjow’s brows disappeared into his hairline as he watched the ginger stomp by. He cast a glance to Urahara, not surprised to see the hurt expression on the blonde’s face, but said nothing as he followed Kurosaki back to the car.

Grimmjow’s apprehension towards the hunk of metal was pushed aside when he climbed inside, his eyes too distracted watching Kurosaki rest his forehead on the steering wheel to feel uncomfortable.

“Sorry we couldn’t get started today. I should’ve just called. We drove all this way for no reason,” Ichigo sighed, refusing to show his face to the Arrancar.

He had no f*cking clue why he felt compelled to wipe off that disappointed—and quite frankly depressed—expression from the human’s face, but he did. Grimmjow’s large hand dragged the paper bag from the dashboard and dumped the contents into his lap. “Wouldn’t say that. At least now I can get out of my body. Just because we can’t do any heavy training doesn’t mean we can’t do any training at all. We have to get through the basics first. We don’t need training grounds for that,” Grimmjow said. He balled up the paper bag and tossed the wad over his shoulder into the back seat as he inspected the long tube with a comical purple cat head on top and the words Soul Candy written down the side. He rolled his eyes. Soul Reapers were f*cking cheesy. The fact that Urahara gave him something with a f*cking cat on it pissed him off too. Next time he saw the bastard he was gonna have to deck the man pretty hard to pay him back. Or maybe do something even worse. The thought alone caused a bloodthirsty grin to split his face in two. Urahara wasn’t a weak human like Ichigo, he could put up a good fight. A short lived fight, but a fight nonetheless.

“Thanks, Grimmjow.”

The Arrancar’s ears perked at the use of his name and he turned his gaze back to the human. He really hated this Gigai. His heart lurched at the sight of a soft yet genuine smile on Kurosaki’s lips. The human didn’t smile much, Grimmjow knew that, but for some reason Ichigo did it a lot around him. It was weird. It made the heart of his Gigai sputter and race. It made Grimmjow very uncomfortable.

He tore his eyes away with a snort and forced them to stay focused on the Soul Candy dispenser in his hand, but he allowed himself to speak, “What snacks did you bring? I’m starving.”

Chapter 10: Introducing This Bitch

Chapter Text

“So, how does this thing work?” Grimmjow asked. He swiped his hand across his mouth to wipe away any stray food as he swallowed his last bite and held up the Soul Candy dispenser. Ever since they had gotten home from their long trip Grimmjow had become entranced by the object, and rather excited to use it. He desperately wanted to leave this Gigai, even if for a single moment. He hadn’t felt the hilt of Pantera under his fingertips in days. That in itself was more than enough to make him antsy to be free of the damned meat suit.

“Hm? Oh. If you push down on the head a little pill comes out. That’ll be the Kaizō Konpaku. When you swallow it you’ll be pushed from your body and the Kaizō Konpaku will take over the Gigai,” Ichigo replied. He shoved the last forkful of food into his mouth and wiped his face clean with his napkin. “You gonna try it out?”

A shrug lifted Grimmjow’s shoulders. “Might as well.”

Without another word Grimmjow pressed down on the rubber cat head. A round green pill burst from the grinning cat’s lips and tumbled into Grimmjow’s palm. His blue eyes narrowed as he inspected the surface. It wasn’t terribly big, which made it hard for Grimmjow to believe Soul Reapers were able to actually fit a modified soul into something so small. His nose wrinkled as he sniffed at the pill. It didn’t really have a scent. Hopefully that didn’t mean it was an untraceable poison. Although judging from Kurosaki’s anger earlier today Grimmjow doubted Urahara would do something that stupid. Well, there was no point in delaying this any longer. Grimmjow popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed.

A wave of disoriented dizziness crashed through Grimmjow’s body, making him fear that he had underestimated Urahara’s intentions, but the feeling eventually receded along with his Gigai. Grimmjow stared down at his hands, then down at his clothes. Black pants. Black shirt. Black boots. White jacket. White belts, two of them. His hand slipped down to his hip. Pantera warmed under his touch and a thrilled rush shot down Grimmjow’s spine. He was back in his own body. It felt good.

Ichigo leaned forward curiously to study Grimmjow’s face. Not his real face, the one of the Gigai. “Grimmjow? Did it work?” Ichigo asked.

The ginger couldn’t see him. A nasty taste soaked Grimmjow’s tongue at the realization. He had forgotten this form had some drawbacks.

The Gigai suddenly became animated. A long groan rolled from the body’s lips—the voice far deeper and rougher than Grimmjow’s—as a hand passed through blue locks.

“Ugh, that was rough,” the body muttered.

The Gigai leaned back into the couch as they continued to rub their head. Light blue eyes opened and quickly doubled in size as they took in Ichigo's body from head to toe. An embarrassing pink blush dusted the Gigai’s cheeks and a sleazy smirk split their face in two as they leaned forward. “Your face sure is working for me. What’s your name, gorgeous?” the Gigai purred.

Grimmjow watched in horror as his body—well technically Gigai—reached out and took hold of Kurosaki’s hand and brought it to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on the human’s knuckles. A deep crimson stained the ginger’s face and Grimmjow’s dread tripled.

A snarl vibrated in Grimmjow’s throat and he slapped their hands apart. Then he took hold of the Gigai’s face and shoved him back, satisfied with the hard thump the body’s skull gave when it struck the back of the couch.

“Don’t f*cking use my body like that!” Grimmjow snapped. What in the hell had Urahara given him?

The Gigai turned their gaze to glare at Grimmjow before swatting his hand away with far more strength than Grimmjow had anticipated. “It’s not my fault that you won’t take advantage of a good situation. And this isn’t even your real body. It’s a Gigai. Nothing to get mad about, ya dickhole,” they scoffed.

“That’s my f*cking face you’re wearing, asshole! Why the f*ck would you flirt with Kurosaki!” Grimmjow snapped.

The Kaizō Konpaku gave Grimmjow an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? Are you blind? Look at this face!” The Kaizō Konpaku grabbed Ichigo’s face and pulled him effortlessly over the coffee table, his strong grip squeezing the human’s cheeks and pushing out his lips comically, “This is the face of a god! Literally the human equivalent of perfection. Look at his eyes! And that hair! He even has freckles!”

The blush on Kurosaki’s face resurfaced and brown eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. Grimmjow’s eye twitched.

“Stop touching him! What the hell!” Grimmjow pushed the two apart once again, tossing Ichigo back into his chair and the Kaizō Konpaku onto the couch.

“Why do you have to be so violent? If he was yours all you had to do was say so, damn,” the Kaizō Konpaku sighed and became wistful as he cradled his own face, “Of course he wouldn’t be single. Just my luck. Over a hundred years stuck in that tiny little pill and the moment I get a body I fall in love with a betrothed man. How lame.”

“Stop saying sh*t like that! Kurosaki is my enemy! ENEMY. I don’t want you touching him because people would get the wrong idea!” Grimmjow screeched. He hadn’t been this frustrated in years. It was easy for him to remember why he liked living alone.

The Kaizō Konpaku shot the Arrancar a deadpan stare. “What people? It’s literally just the three of us.”

“I will break your goddamn nose if you don’t f*cking shut up,” Grimmjow threatened through his teeth.

The Kaizō Konpaku only rolled his eyes in response.

That’s it. Grimmjow was going to kill him.

“Do you have a name?”

Ichigo’s voice stilled Grimmjow’s fist. The Kaizō Konpaku blinked in surprise, but a smile quickly broke out across his face—Grimmjow’s face—as he laughed softly. “No. Kaizō Konpaku don’t have names. We’re meant to be dispensable. No point in naming something that will die,” he replied honestly.

Grimmjow caught a glimpse of Ichigo's reaction and saw exactly what he expected to see. Resentment. Frustration. Anger. Sadness. Pain. He always got that look on his face when he heard of an injustice. Grimmjow didn’t see the point. He couldn’t save everyone.

Suddenly those emotions were wiped away and were replaced with a kind smile and even friendlier eyes. “What would you like to be called?” he asked.

“Dumbass,” Grimmjow answered. Ichigo didn’t hear.

The Kaizō Konpaku seemed to deliberate on the question. Grimmjow should’ve known the idiot wasn’t actually thinking. The Kaizō Konpaku leaned forward and took hold of Ichigo’s chin, bringing the ginger dangerously close to his lips—Grimmjow’s goddamn lips—and smiled lustfully.

“You can call me lover any day you like, beautiful.”

With a snarl Grimmjow landed a punch on the Kaizō Konpaku’s shoulder, satisfied with the squeak of pain he released as he let go of Kurosaki’s chin.

A chuckle ghosted over Grimmjow’s ears and caused goosebumps to spread along his arms. Ichigo continued to smile at the Kaizō Konpaku, his eyes looking as if they were looking right into Grimmjow’s eyes. Grimmjow knew that wasn’t the case. His chest ached and he pulled away.

“How about you think about what you’d like for us to call you? Naming yourself is a big task,” Ichigo said.

“Whatever sounds sweetest as it rolls off your tongue when you moan is fine to me,” the Kaizō Konpaku purred.

Apparently this dumbass didn’t learn.

“That’s it!” Grimmjow snapped.

He slammed his fist deep into the Gigai’s gut, the force strong enough to push the green pill from the body’s throat and clatter on the coffee table. With growl Grimmjow took hold of his Gigai and slipped back in. He was immediately uncomfortable in the confining body, which he made a point to say outloud, but knew it was better that he was in his Gigai and not that moron.

Another chuckle caused Grimmjow to freeze and beckoned his gaze to the ginger. Ichigo picked up the pill from the table and dried it off on his shirt and brushed off any specks of dust he spotted before holding it out towards Grimmjow.

“Believe it or not, they grow on you,” Ichigo admitted.

Grimmjow snatched the pill away with a huff. “I doubt that.”

Chapter 11: Midnight Heathens

Chapter Text

Everything living has desires. It was a fact of life. Deep down in every heart burned a dark yearning for things that weren’t always obtainable or meant to be. Grimmjow was no exception to this. As each day went on, as each second spent with Kurosaki turned into hours, his desire grew. He was desperate for it. He craved it. He was ravenous. He had never wanted something so badly before. He wanted...he wanted—

He wanted some goddamn SLEEP!

A snarl tore from Grimmjow’s throat as he threw his blanket and pillow aside. He was so sick of this! He just wanted to sleep! Just a few hours uninterrupted by the human’s f*cking nightmares! It happened almost every night! What could the ginger possibly be dreaming about that would make him so restless? His comrades falling? His enemies winning? Kurosaki chose this life so he has to deal with the consequences just like everyone did. It was the only way to get rid of nightmares, Grimmjow knew that first hand.

Ignoring the chill that shot through Grimmjow’s half naked body as he stomped to the ginger’s room and ripped the door open. As always, Ichigo laid on his side, twisted in his covers with sweat glistening on his skin under the moonlight. Didn’t the damn human ever close the blinds? Third floor or not people were still creeps.

“Ul...Ulquiorra….”

Grimmjow’s temper paused. Ulquiorra? The man was dead. Why was Kurosaki worrying about a man he killed with his own hands?

Ichigo rolled onto his other side, the beads of sweat on his forehead catching light like crystals as he turned. The human’s brows were tightly knitted together, but it wasn’t in fear or anger...it was from concern and sorrow. Lips peeled back from white teeth as the human cringed in his sleep. Fingers clawed at the cheap sheets on the human’s bed, the fabric threatening to tear under his grasp. Ichigo’s voice had become hushed and weak, not a single syllable able to be heard even by Grimmjow’s sensitive ears. Even without the help of his hearing Grimmjow could still read the boy’s lips under the moonlight. It almost seemed like...the human was apologizing.

With his head co*cked in curiosity Grimmjow approached the bed slowly. He had come in to wake the ginger up, but now the human had his interest peaked. Why would he be apologizing?

Grimmjow stepped into the moonlight, the chill on his skin growing colder as the moon drained his body of all heat. The goosebumps on his skin went unnoticed as the Arrancar peered over Ichigo’s fitfully sleeping form.

“Why would you apologize?” Grimmjow murmured.

A flash of burning summer sky caught the corner of Grimmjow’s eye and the Arrancar’s attention snapped to the window. The clear glass burst, sharp shards raining down on his vulnerable skin and slicing through the Gigai with ease. The scratches went unnoticed even as they bled, the Arrancar’s eyes locked onto a flowing arrow that came within centimeters of his face. With a burst of adrenaline he lept out of the way, snarling as the arrow tore through his cheek and shed blood down upon Ichigo’s face. Grimmjow reached for his sword and cursed when his fingers grasped at nothing but air. sh*t. He had left the Kaizō Konpaku in the living room. He was f*cking helpless.

His current problem was quickly no longer an issue. A massive hand snatched his wrists in a iron grip and restrained his arms behind his back. Grimmjow struggled to free himself, but in his Gigai he wasn’t stronger than the average human. A second hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and pushed hard on his head, slamming the Arrancar into Ichigo’s bed and his knees striking the wood floors. The bed frame cracked and crumbled under the powerful force. For a split second Grimmjow had thought the loud snapping were his own bones. The pain that blossomed across Grimmjow’s body caused the man to gasp and snarl, the sounds being muted as his face was held and pushed deep into the ginger’s mattress.

Another burning arrow formed before his face, the frighteningly sharp tip dangerously close to his eye as the weapon waited to be released. Grimmjow struggled to look past the blinding projectile, his rage crashing through his body at full force when he finally saw his attacker’s face.

Light reflected off the lenses on a pair of expensive glasses, the deep navy blue eyes lying beneath were cold as they glared at the Arrancar. A proud head lifted higher as black bangs danced back and forth across a youthful cheek, the bow in his grasp adjusting for a faster kill.

“It seems Kuchiki’s hunch was correct. There is a Hollow haunting Kurosaki’s apartment,” the young man said calmly, a promise of death laced within his tone.

Grimmjow gritted his teeth as he snarled in response. He was trapped and defenseless. He was nothing more than a caged and declawed animal in a zoo. How he hated this. If only he could get free, then he wouldn’t be the only one bleeding.

“I suppose I should ask if you have any final words,” the raven haired boy’s arrow centered between Grimmjow’s eyes, “But I’m not really interested in the blatherings of an Arrancar.”

Grimmjow snarled again as he struggled under the heavy body weighing him down. It was like a bug trying to move a mountain, impossible. His jaw began to ache and his head started to throb, his clenched teeth exposed to the Quincy. This was how he was going to go? On his knees and at the mercy of some Quincy child?

“What the f*ck do you think you’re doing!”

Time stopped. The power of the Quincy’s arrow dimmed and the hands holding Grimmjow down lightened. A strange sense of calm washed over Grimmjow at the sound of the voice, but the feeling didn’t last long as his guard lifted once again.

Ichigo, now awake, sat on the very far end of his bed with his pillow clutched tightly to his chest and his face twisted in horror. “Uryū! Chad! Get off of him! What has gotten into the both of you?” Ichigo demanded.

Uryū, the Quincy, bristled at the command. “Ichigo, he’s an Arrancar! He’ll kill you! He’ll destroy the whole city!” he snapped back.

“I said let him go!” Ichigo repeated. This time he threw his pillow for emphasis.

The pillow struck the side of Uryū’s head and knocked his glasses askew while at the same time disheveled his perfectly, neatly styled hair. The arrow nocked on the Quincy’s bow dematerialized and the heavy body and steady hands holding Grimmjow down disappeared. It was his chance to strike back. Without hesitation Grimmjow’s leg kicked back and landed a devastating blow to the giant’s stomach, using the same moment to grab the Quincy by the throat and pinned him down on the mattress. The Quincy’s eyes widened in horror, pale fingers struggling to nock an arrow as his strength was choked out of him. Rage fueled a vicious growl from Grimmjow’s chest as he held on tighter to the boy’s throat. He wasn’t going to let this pathetic human take his life as if he were nothing. He wasn’t a stray animal. He wasn’t weak.

Warm arms wrapped around Grimmjow’s waist, the heat radiating off the sunkissed skin causing the Arrancar's frozen and stiff muscles to melt. Strong arms pulled him away from the raven haired human and held him against a chest with a wildly beating heart Grimmjow could feel pulsing through his spine.

“Grimmjow, stop! You’re okay! They aren’t going to hurt you!” Ichigo promised.

The boy’s voice was enough to yank Grimmjow back into the present, the wild and instinctual haze over his mind cleared and allowed him to think reasonably. The Quincy, Uryū, was holding onto his own throat and coughing while his large friend, Chad, nursed a newly bruised stomach. He was fine. He was safe. He wasn’t trapped anymore.

The arms around Grimmjow’s waist began to burn. Too close. The Arrancar ripped himself from Ichigo’s arms with a hiss. “Don’t f*cking touch me, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow spat.

His temper was disregarded as the ginger seemed conflicted between the Arrancar and his friends. Once Uryū regained his breathing and Chad no longer held his stomach, Ichigo’s eyes latched back onto Grimmjow.

“Grimmjow are you okay? You’re bleeding,” Ichigo said.

The human’s hand stretched out to reach him, his fingertips wanting to wipe away the blood from Grimmjow’s wounds. Panic spiked through the Arrancar’s body and he slapped Ichigo’s hand away with a growl. “Stop touching me, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow repeated with a heated voice.

The concern in Kurosaki’s brown eyes disgusted him. Why did this human care about his enemies so much? He was here to kill him and yet the ginger always seemed to worry about his wellbeing. Why?

Grimmjow wasn’t tortured by those eyes for long. The cinnamon brown irises hardened into a sharp glare which he directed at his friends. “What the hell were you two thinking? Look at what you’ve done to my apartment! There’s a hole where the window used to be! My closet is in shambles! I don’t even want to think about the damage Chad caused to break in. And my bed! It’s completely destroyed! This sh*t costs money, Uryū! Money I don’t have to replace! I’m a f*cking college student, remember?” Ichigo snapped.

Uryu continued to rub his throat as he moved to stand beside Chad. “When Kuchiki visited you she claimed to have sensed a Hollow’s scent in your apartment. She was right. Except it wasn’t just a Hollow, but an Arrancar,” the Quincy stated, his voice raw.

Grimmjow felt a dash of satisfaction at the sound as he licked his thumb and brushed his own saliva across the cuts along his arms, pausing to remove the occasional shard of glass.

“So, instead of asking me what was going on you decided to burst into my apartment guns ablazing?” Ichigo drawled sarcastically.

“We staked out your apartment,” Chad said, his deep voice being heard for the first time that night, “When we saw the Arrancar standing over you we made a move. We couldn’t let him hurt you.”

“I’m literally the only person in this room without an injury. No one would have gotten hurt if you two either minded your own damn business or asked me a question before you burst in to kill someone,” Ichigo said tartly.

“Have you lost it, Ichigo? That man is an Arrancar. If we hadn’t stopped him he would have—.”

“He’s in a Gigai,” Ichigo hissed through clenched teeth.

A tired sigh fell from Kurosaki’s lips as his fists became limp in his lap. The human raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes with the heels before pinching the bridge of his nose with his long fingers. He was exhausted. Grimmjow hadn’t seen it earlier, but there were large dark purple bags under Ichigo’s eyes. Had he really been missing that much sleep?

“Look, let’s all calm down and go sit in the living room. I’ll explain everything,” Ichigo said.

The boy looked like he’d rather go back to sleep than talk to his friends. Grimmjow tilted his head again as he stared at the human. One of the beads of sweat on his forehead created a jagged path down his temple and cut through the blood on Ichigo’s cheek. The drop plunged off the ginger’s jaw—a jaw that was covered in orange stubble Grimmjow hadn’t noticed before—and soaked into the fabric of Kurosaki’s shirt. Sunkissed fingers combed through long orange bangs and were swept out of brown eyes, eyes that Grimmjow had only just now noticed were as tired as he felt. Grimmjow turned his eyes away from the human. He wasn’t the only one suffering from Ichigo’s nightmares.

“Where is that f*cking thing now?” Ichigo growled to himself as he searched around his bed.

Wordlessly, and without thinking about his actions, Grimmjow grabbed a headband from the ginger’s desk as well as a hair tie and offered it to him. Ichigo blinked at the hand and shot Grimmjow a curious look before a small thanks passed through his lips. Ichigo’s fingertips brushed his skin as he took the accessories from him, the simple touch sparking a warm flare along his arm. Grimmjow’s hand retreated quickly as his eyes returned to his wounded arm, the warmth still pulsing through his skin.

Once Ichigo’s hair was held out of his face and tied into a sloppy ponytail he ushered everyone into the livingroom. Uryū and Chad took up the couch, leaving Grimmjow the armchair as Ichigo disappeared into the bathroom. The Arrancar grabbed the back of the chair and pulled. Ignoring the pain in his arms he dragged the chair far away from the couch, distancing himself from the boy’s friends before he finally flopped down into the seat. His muscles felt as if they had dissolved away. The fight hadn’t lasted long, hell it wasn’t even a fight, but all the strength in his body had been ripped right out of him. He really hated this Gigai.

Ichigo came back into the room with a small first aid kit in hand. He tossed a bottle of painkillers and an ice pack at his friends without meeting their eyes before making his way towards Grimmjow. The Arrancar immediately became tense, his exhausted muscles screaming, and a snarled warning on his breathe. Ichigo ignored him and set the kit on the arm of the chair.

“This will sting a bit,” Ichigo warned. He stuffed a small white cloth over the lip of a bottle and soaked the white square with alcohol.

Grimmjow’s stomach churned as the smell burned in his nose. Kurosaki set the bottle aside and reached out for Grimmjow’s chin as he brought the reeking chemical close to the Arrancar’s face. “Hold still.”

Calloused fingertips took hold of Grimmjow’s chin, that same warmth from earlier spreading across his face. Ichigo was too close. Not only could he count the freckles on the ginger’s face but he could also count the flecks of gold in his eyes. A low, rumbling growl rattled in Grimmjow’s chest in warning. Instead of releasing him, the fingers on his chin strengthened their grasp and brought the chemical drenched cloth to Grimmjow’s cheek.

The growl in Grimmjow’s chest tore through his throat as a snarl while he slapped Ichigo’s hand from his face and snatched the ginger’s other wrist in a painful grip. “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me? Do you want me to rip your arms off?” Grimmjow threatened. His nails cut deep into Kurosaki’s skin, the smell of the chemical causing him to become more and more uneasy.

There was no fear on Kurosaki’s face. There wasn’t even anger. Just frustration. Ichigo grabbed Grimmjow’s chin once again and forced the Arrancar to look into his eyes. As if he wasn’t doing that already.

“Stop resisting, dumbass. You know I’m not going to hurt you. I have to clean your wounds and bandage you up. Now stop acting like a child and sit still,” Ichigo commanded.

Grimmjow searched his cinnamon brown eyes for a lie, but the warm irises were steady and held no tell of trickery. The tightness in his muscles faded away and Grimmjow sagged deep into the chair. He released Ichigo’s wrist, noticing the deep crescents he left in the ginger’s skin as he cradled his injured arm to his chest.

That smile appeared again on Kurosaki’s face. The one that barely lifted the corners of his mouth but warmed the human’s features and caused his eyes to shimmer. Why did the human smile at him like that? No one ever had before. Grimmjow grew uncomfortable with the boy’s gaze and turned his eyes away to stare at the wall.

“Thank you,” Ichigo murmured.

The Arrancar said nothing.

A wet cloth pressed against the cut on Grimmjow’s cheek and a pained hiss escaped his teeth.

“Sorry. It won’t last for long, I promise.”

Ichigo’s voice instantly soothed Grimmjow and once again he sank back into the chair as if he were boneless. After a few more gentle swipes the cloth was removed and replaced with three seafoam green band-aids mending his sliced cheek. When Ichigo was satisfied with his work he moved his attention to Grimmjow’s arm. He held out his hand to the Arrancar, silently asking for permission. With a grunt Grimmjow offered the ginger his wrist and pretended that he hadn’t seen that damned smile on the human’s face. Ichigo must have helped his father out at the family clinic. His movements were precise and methodical as he searched each cut for glass, careful when he parted the skin so as not to hurt Grimmjow further. He got the same concentrated look on his face as his father when he cleaned each wound, too. It made Grimmjow wonder why the kid wasn’t following the same career as his father, but he quickly dismissed the thought. While healing others certainly did help people, it wasn’t the kind of help the ginger wanted to provide. He wanted to stop wars. He wanted to prevent pain. He wanted to be there for the before, not the aftermath.

“That should be it. You had more wounds on your left arm so it’ll be sore for a while, but they should heal pretty quickly. If not we can visit Urahara,” Ichigo said as he turned both of Grimmjow’s arms, searching for any wounds he might have missed.

Grimmjow pulled his arms from his grasp, still avoiding the human’s eyes. Having someone dote on him was...weird. Hell, someone helping him at all was beyond strange. “I’ve been injured before, jackass. I’ve lost a damn arm. I can handle some scratches,” Grimmjow grumbled.

He spotted an open pack of tissues inside the first aid kit and pulled one out, then thrust the kleenex in the boy’s face.

“My blood got on your face,” Grimmjow stated.

Ichigo blinked in surprise and took the offered tissue and cleaned his cheek as instructed. “Thanks, Grimmjow.”

The Arrancar grunted and refused to meet his eyes, opting for the human’s friends instead. That was a mistake.

Uryū stared at them with his eyes blown wide and his jaw slack. Even Chad’s eyes grew large enough to be seen through his wavy locks, well, at least one of them anyway. Grimmjow bared his teeth as he became defensive.

“What the f*ck are you staring at?” he spat.

Uryū’s face darkened and his eyes narrowed. The Quincy parted his lips as if to retaliate, but was stopped by Ichigo holding up his hand.

“No more arguing. I’m too tired to deal with that right now. I hadn’t planned on telling you guys yet but I guess I should’ve known better than to keep it from you,” Ichigo said with a roll of his eyes.

The ginger faced his friends and pressed back against the chair. Grimmjow bristled at the close proximity and leaned as far away as he could without completely leaving the chair.

“Grimmjow is helping me regain my powers.”

His friends looked dumbfounded. Grimmjow would’ve found it funny if he had a sense of humor and didn’t hate their guts.

“He’s...helping you?” Chad repeated.

Grimmjow snorted. “Help is a rather strong word. I’m gonna get Kurosaki’s powers back, and then I’m gonna kill him when he’s at full strength. I’m not helping him do sh*t,” he stated without a shred of doubt.

As expected the human’s friends became angry and defensive, but before they could say anything Ichigo interrupted them once again. “Grimmjow and I made a deal. Once I get my powers back he and I will battle. It’s a decision I made and a deal I intend to uphold. You two and the others will not interfere. Do you understand?” he asked.

Uryū’s brows furrowed. “Ichigo, this isn’t safe. He could kill you.”

The ginger merely shrugged. “When have I ever done anything that’s safe? I’m not saying it’s going to be easy or that I’m gonna make it through this in one piece. I have a chance to be a Soul Reaper again and I’m going to take it. With that in mind, I don’t want anyone touching Grimmjow,” Ichigo’s voice became heavy and serious, “Grimmjow isn’t to be harmed. Put your feelings about him aside. If he’s gone so is my chance at becoming a Soul Reaper again.”

They didn’t want to accept Ichigo’s words, Grimmjow could tell. They wanted to oppose him. The Arrancar could see Uryū’s fingers twitching to launch and arrow at him, but he didn’t. A look of defeat rolled across the Quincy’s face as he rose to his feet.

“Alright, Ichigo, if that’s what you wish,” Uryū sighed.

Chad hummed in agreement and he stood as well.

Kurosaki’s guarded appearance melted away in relief as he smiled at his friends. “Thanks, you guys.”

Uryū dismissed Ichigo’s words with a wave. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. We apologize for intruding. I promise to pay for all damages we caused and will replace everything we broke,” the Quincy said as he headed towards the door. The door that Ichigo now noticed had been ripped clean from the wall.

“Thanks. Make sure to knock the next time you guys choose to visit,” Ichigo joked with a smirk.

“Noted,” Uryū snorted while a smile twitched on Chad’s lips. Uryū paused, looking as if he were about to offer Ichigo a place to stay. Then Uryū’s eyes locked onto Grimmjow and his lips thinned, and he turned away. Grimmjow snorted to himself. Some friends. They couldn’t handle him and the human being a joined deal.

The moment the two left Ichigo’s body suddenly sagged. Grimmjow hadn’t noticed how tense the boy was until now. Why would he be so tense around his friends? Not that Grimmjow was an expert, but he was sure the general idea about having friends was actually liking them. A hand rubbed the back of his long neck as Ichigo turned to Grimmjow.

“You mind sleeping in the car for the night?”

Chapter 12: Hushed Tones in Tight Spaces

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry about all that, Grimmjow.”

The apology pulled Grimmjow from his thoughtless stare. He turned his gaze away from a patch of air to the man who spoke. Ichigo had stopped in the middle of his task, which was unlocking the car door with two pillows and two blankets stuffed under his arm, to give the Arrancar an earnest look. His brown eyes appeared like they were begging for him to accept the apology. They almost looked like—what was the term...they looked like puppy dog eyes. Confusion twisted Grimmjow’s face.

“What’re you apologizing for?” he asked.

Ichigo’s eyes dropped down to the lock he was struggling to turn. “Because of what my friends did to you. If I hadn’t been there they would’ve kil—.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Ichigo stilled. He looked back at the Arrancar with a mirrored appearance of bewilderment. “What do you mean that’s not what you meant?”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. He hated that he had to explain everything. He wouldn’t be having this conversation if he were talking with his own kind. Not that he’d want to talk to them. Or anyone for that matter.

“I know why you want to apologize. I’m asking why you’re apologizing,” Grimmjow repeated.

Maybe he wasn’t speaking Japanese because Ichigo looked even more lost than before.

“Uh...because it’s the polite thing to do? And I feel bad that my friends almost killed you?” Ichigo replied, unsure of his own answer.

A faint smile twitched on Grimmjow’s lips. “Yeah, because the dude who eats people as a means of nourishment is gonna be really concerned about proper edicate,” he drawled.

A smirk appeared on the ginger’s lips as he snickered, the sound causing Grimmjow’s heart have a strange beating pattern. He had grown so used to it that he really didn’t notice it anymore. Or at least could ignore it. Mostly.

“I guess that’s true. I’ll try my best to be a douchebag for you,” Ichigo joked.

“Cool. Think you can start that after we get inside the car, ‘cause it’s about to rain.”

“Oh sh*t. Yeah. Sorry.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. There was no way Kurosaki was ever going to be a douchebag.

With a few more curses from the ginger he finally unlocked his door and slid inside, leaning over to pop the lock on Grimmjow’s side. Eagerly Grimmjow packed himself into the beat up vehicle and closed the door quickly. Normally he wouldn’t want to be in this damn thing, but there was no way in hell he was going to stay outside. It was freezing.

Grimmjow rubbed his hands together in an attempt to heat up his fingertips, but stopped when he caught sight of the bruises on his wrists. That human—Chad or whatever—had rather frightening strength. Granted Grimmjow was in his Gigai, so he wasn’t sure the man could cause that much damage to his Hierro skin, but that much raw power was still highly impressive. What caught Grimmjow off guard the most was how silent and quick on his feet the human was. Grimmjow hadn’t even noticed the human was there until he had him pinned down.

Grimmjow brushed his fingers over the dark and tender skin. “I will admit though, that big friend of yours is rather rough for a human. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human cause that much damage to a body with bare fists alone,” Grimmjow mused.

“Chad’s always been outlandishly strong. He caught an I-beam once to save some of his friends, and walked away with only a minor head wound and some scratches on his arm. That was before he got his powers,” Ichigo replied as he dug through a bundle of blankets for their pillows, “He’s really a teddy bear, though. He wants to rescue animals for a living. Kinda cute when you think about it.”

Grimmjow was seriously considering that the human wasn’t as sound of mind as he seemed. “I wouldn’t necessarily consider a dude who’s six foot five and can catch falling I-beams cute.”

“So either you’re blind or you have bad taste in men,” Ichigo said with a sly grin.

Grimmjow was too surprised by his words to reply, or defend himself, as Ichigo handed him his pillow and blanket. Silence filled the car as Grimmjow retreated into his thoughts, fingers mindlessly playing with a piece of thread hanging from the pillows edge as the world around him faded away.

A faint pop caused Grimmjow’s ears to twitch and yanked him back into the present. He watched as the back of Ichigo’s seat fell which gave the man room to stretch out. Kurosaki laid down with a smile and stuffed the pillow under his head. Wiggling to get comfortable, the human pulled his large blanket up to his nose and sighed blissfully. That was the first time Grimmjow had seen the boy relaxed in...ever. Although that wasn’t what was occupying his thoughts.

Grimmjow tilted his head slightly. The seat had to be broken, but the human seemed content with the results? Like he actually meant for the seat to become useless. Maybe it was supposed to do that? Grimmjow peered down at his own seat. Could his do that too? How had the ginger done it?

“Need some help?”

Grimmjow jumped. He’d almost forgotten the boy was there. Forgetting that he wasn't alone was...very unlike him. Ichigo sat up and his blanket pooled around his waist in thick waves. That blanket looked really comfortable compared to the yellow demon he was using.

“There’s a lever…,” Ichigo faltered and shrugged, “I’ll just show you.”

Grimmjow immediately became aware of just how small the car was. In one quick breath Ichigo had invaded his personal space. The sunkissed fingers gripping onto the armrest for balance brushed against Grimmjow’s arm. Heated electric bolts scattered across his skin and in turn awakened an army of goosebumps. The boy was close. Way too close. Why did he keep doing that? The only reason why they should ever be this close to each other was because they were fighting to the death or—Grimmjow’s thoughts short circuited and frayed. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to think such a thing.

Ichigo leaned further over the armrest—hell he was damn near in Grimmjow’s lap—and the Arrancar’s breath hitched. He should've pushed the man way, or rather punch, but he didn’t. He was so enamored by the human he hadn’t even noticed when Ichigo reached past his hip, much less react to it.

Those freckles on Ichigo’s face, all one hundred and twenty-six of them, were much easier to count than before. Grimmjow’s eye narrowed. Actually, there were more than he thought. He had missed a few because they blended in perfectly with the human’s skin from afar. Instead of one hundred and twenty-six freckles on the boy’s cheeks and nose, it was almost two hundred. With that thought in mind Grimmjow’s eyes searched the rest of Ichigo’s face. There could be more that he missed. Along the way he couldn’t help compare this new face to the one from five years ago. The boy’s forehead was covered by orange bangs, but he could see that the deep scowl from five years ago had been washed away, leaving behind smooth skin. Only the tops of the boy’s cheeks held freckles, the space underneath was bare, and the cheeks themselves were higher than he remembered. Sharper, too. Ichigo’s jaw had lost the youthful rounded shape and was now straight and sharp. The jaw was free of any markings and only wore short prickly stubble, which for some reason Grimmjow’s fingers twitched at the thought of touching them. He was so used to the boy having smooth skin that it was rather interesting to see that he could grow hair. Finally he tore his eyes away from the stubble and turned his focus to Kurosaki’s lips. His bottom lip was a bit bigger than the top, and ridiculously pink, but bore no freckles. Had his lips always been that shapely? He needed to look away. His eyes jerked to the ginger’s ears, or at the least the one he could see. Bingo. There were two freckles on the lobe, one darker and larger than the other. Grimmjow’s gaze paused on two more marks in the boy’s lobe. Those weren’t freckles. They were piercings. He had quite a few of them, actually. One, two...five in total. Huh. Why didn’t the boy ever wear any jewelry?

Grimmjow parted his lips to ask, but the words died on his tongue when he saw the boy’s eyes. A warm honey brown was the dominant color of the iris, but it wasn’t the only color. He had seen the small flecks of gold before, but now Grimmjow could see just how many there were. It was like his eyes were full of stars. Or rich soil littered with nuggets of gold. Not to mention the structure of the iris in itself was amazing. The brown was layered in waves and was darkest around the pupil, the variations in color making it seem as if his eyes held the top view of a ring of cliffs. He had never seen eyes like this before.

“There it is.”

The back of his chair suddenly collapsed and Grimmjow fell with it in a surprised shout.

“f*ck, I’m sorry man,” Ichigo said around a long string of snickers, ones that he tried to hide behind his hand, “I should’ve warned you. I’m so sorry.”

Grimmjow blinked as he slowly came back to reality. Then his mood soured.

“Back the f*ck off, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow snarled as he grabbed the boy by his shoulders and shoved him back.

Ichigo’s elbow struck the car door with a loud thunk and a hiss immediately burst from the human’s lips along with a slew of curses. “Mother f*cking sh*t. Son of a bitch. God f*cking damnit! What the f*ck is your problem, Grimmjow! It’s not like I was sitting in your f*cking lap! Why do you have to be such a jackass!” Ichigo snarled.

The smile on his face was completely erased and the once smooth skin twisted and creased into a dark and hateful grimace. The human clutched his injury as if he had been stabbed and gutted and betrayed. The rage in his brown eyes caused the irises to glow a fiery orange, and caused Grimmjow’s heart to stutter. Ichigo’s eyes weren’t burning with just anger, but with a desperate desire to tear Grimmjow apart. A need to cause Grimmjow harm far beyond repair. A lust for bloodshed. He had never seen such a deadly look on the human’s face before.

Much to his disappointment, as soon as the electrifying glare was ignited, it was extinguished. Kurosaki’s seething glare simmered down to a scowl he had always carried upon his brow in his younger years. His eyes continued to hold a glare, but the gaze was directed at the steering wheel while a thick, guarded wall snuffed out the brilliant flames. The boy’s lips peeled back from his clenched teeth as he managed to squeeze out a few words. “Never f*cking mind. Why do I even bother,” he growled.

The husky sound pushed up goosebumps all over Grimmjow’s skin. Where had this version of Kurosaki been?

The ginger tossed himself roughly down onto his seat with his back turned to Grimmjow and yanked the blanket over his head, completely hiding himself. Grimmjow would never admit to liking anyone, but he really liked the human’s new temper. That look Ichigo had on his face was exactly what Grimmjow wanted to see when they battled. He wished they could now. Even if it was just a dumb little fist fight and the worst wound they could possibly get was a broken bone or two. The thought pulled Grimmjow into a deep fantasy, his gazed fixed on the old clock set deep in the dashboard while his mind played with the possibilities of that face and those damn eyes. He almost completely lost himself in the bloody paradise when a long sigh emitted from the ginger’s blanket.

The blanket was pushed away as Ichigo rolled onto his back and glared halfheartedly at the sunroof. “Look, Grimmjow, I’m sorry for getting angry. I shouldn’t treat you that way.”

What a buzz kill. “Why the f*ck not? We’re enemies and I pissed you off. Two good reasons to tell me off,” Grimmjow scoffed. He wasn’t a moron. Kurosaki’s apology was as fake as fake gets. It was an obligated apology. It was even worse than a regular apology.

“There’s no legit excuse for being a dick to you. It’s not right to take my anger out on you, enemies or not,” Ichigo replied.

Grimmjow shot the ginger a bland stare. “How many times did you practice saying that bullsh*t in front of the mirror? Don’t apologize if you don’t f*cking want to,” he scoffed.

“Grimmjow it’s abusi—.”

“Shut up, Kurosaki! I don’t f*cking care if it’s abusive! We’re enemies!” Grimmjow bellowed in exasperation, “Be f*cking real for once. I don’t know why you keep hiding behind dumbass, fake-ass smiles all the time. It needs to stop. You keep letting people walk all over you. Your friends are pissing you off and you just let them get away with it! They destroyed your apartment tonight and you only yelled at them for five minutes!”

Ichigo sat up to face Grimmjow head on. “It’s wrong, Grimmjow! Just because they upset me doesn’t mean it’s okay to hurt them. I shouldn’t have lashed out at Urahara but I did and I regret it! He’s only looking out for me. They all are! There’s no reason for me to—.”

Grimmjow had enough. With a frustrated growl he planted his hand on Ichigo’s chest and shoved the boy back down onto his seat. Ichigo grunted from the force, his heart drumming wildly under Grimmjow’s palm as the Arrancar leaned over into his side of the car. Grimmjow towered over the ginger, his knee resting between the boy’s legs on the edge of the seat to keep his balance as he jabbed a finger in the human’s face.

“I told you to stop! What you think is right and what you feel are two f*cking different things, Kurosaki. Yeah, they’re your friends and they’re looking out for you, but you f*cking hate them. I can smell your envy from a mile away. They have something you don’t and it eats you up inside. You’re f*cking furious that they still have their powers and you have jack. You were the only one burned in the battle against Aizen and you feel like you were dealt an injustice and you’re pissed. Fine. But don’t f*cking hold that sh*t in. Let them know how mad you are. Let them know they’re getting in your way. Yell at them. Make them bleed. I don’t give a sh*t as long as you stop acting as if everything is okay,” Grimmjow snapped.

Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, an argument on his tongue, but Grimmjow silenced him by covering his mouth with his hand and digging his fingers into the boy’s jaw.

“Don’t. I’m sick and tired of seeing that stupid smile on your face. Don’t smile unless you really mean it. Why go through all the effort? You’re only doing that to make other people happy. You gain nothing from it. It’s a waste of your time and it turns you into a doormat. I’m not interested in fighting someone who allows others to walk all over them,” Grimmjow made sure the ginger’s eyes were on him before he continued, “If I hit you, I expect you to hit me back. If someone makes you mad, you better f*ckin’ scream at them and let them know. If they’re in your way, move them. Take that jealousy inside you and use it. Let it fuel your need to get stronger. Let it push you until you're back at full strength so you can beat the sh*t outta anyone who gets on your nerves. Don’t smile and don’t ever f*cking apologize unless you want to and you mean it. Understand?”

Ichigo’s eyes were wide. The bangs that usually hid most of his face were blown back and forced to join the halo of wild orange locks pooled around his head. The purple hair tie he had been using laid among the sea of orange. It must have snapped. Probably when Grimmjow pushed him down. He hadn’t even realized that the human had removed the headband long ago. The fight had left Kurosaki’s body and he didn’t resist the Arrancar’s strength. Even though his heart held a fast paced beat under Grimmjow’s hand, he didn’t see a drop of fear in the ginger’s eyes. Very slowly the human nodded. His eyes didn’t leave Grimmjow’s.

Satisfied with the boy’s response Grimmjow pulled away and fell back onto his side of the car. With a huff he laid on his seat and struggled to get comfortable. He stuffed a flat pillow under his head and draped his blanket over his torso, but knew it wasn’t going to do him much good. Better than nothing. Silence overtook the car, a peaceful quiet that Grimmjow was actually thankful for. His light blue eyes watched through the sunroof as black clouds devoured the night sky one star at a time. Once every star had been swallowed when the brewing storm finally consumed the moon. The car plunged into darkness. Lightning cracked across the sky with a massive roar of thunder chasing it. Rain crashed down on the car in heavy waves as the wind increased, shaking the vehicle back and forth. The air gained a frosty bite and Grimmjow soon found himself shaking from the chill, even though he had borrowed a thick hoodie from Kuroskai. He tried to still the movement by digging his fingers into his arms but it was fruitless effort. If his jaw weren’t locked he was sure his teeth would be chattering. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight.

With a rustle of fabric his body was enveloped by a heavy and durable blanket that instantly warmed his freezing skin. Grimmjow frowned and tore his eyes away from the rain to glare at the shadows where Ichigo lay.

“What did I just get through tellin’ you? Stop doing sh*t because you think it’s righ—.”

“I’m doing it because I want to.”

A soft light filled the car as Ichigo turned on the flashlight on his phone. He placed it on the lowest setting and set it on the armrest between them before turning onto his side to face Grimmjow.

“It’s big enough for the both of us. I don’t want you to be cold either,” Ichigo shrugged. The boy pulled his end of the blanket over his shoulder until all Grimmjow could see of the boy’s face were his eyes twinkling in the shadows. Or maybe it was just the phone’s light reflecting off of them.

Grimmjow tore his eyes away with a snort. Without saying anything in return he tucked his side of the blanket under his side to keep the cold out. The relief had instantaneous effect and melted all of his icey muscles. It was weird how warm the blanket was, in all honesty. It’s like there was a heater built right into it. Grimmjow felt like an idiot when he realized that heat was actually radiating off of Kurosaki, not the blanket. The boy was like a sun. Grimmjow had never felt a singular person create so much body heat. He grunted to himself. It was better if he didn’t think about it.

“Why were you in my room?”

He was never going to sleep.

“You were keeping me up again with another one of your dumb nightmares. Something about Ulquiorra,” Grimmjow replied gruffly.

“Oh.”

He almost asked why the boy was dreaming about a dead enemy, but he quickly decided against it. He didn’t want to get too involved in his life. Living with him was one thing. Knowing personal sh*t was far too friendly for Grimmjow’s taste.

“You look different without your mask.”

He really wasn’t ever going to sleep.

“My mask too scary and repulsive for you?” Grimmjow scoffed, as if he really cared what the boy thought.

“No. I had a mask, remember?” Ichigo offered.

Grimmjow finally turned his gaze back to the ginger. He wasn’t impressed. “I distinctly remember you hating the fact that there was a Hollow in you.”

Ichigo actually flushed in embarrassment. His eyes broke away from Grimmjow’s and instead chose to stare at his phone. “Well yeah, at the time I hated my Hollow. I thought he was trying to kill me and the people I loved. It wasn’t until recently that I realized he was a part of my power. His methods were crass, but I don’t think he ever intended to hurt me. He saved me over and over again, too.”

The Arrancar didn’t have anything to say in return. The idea of Soul Reapers being able to carry Hollows inside them was still foreign territory to him. He didn’t know the first thing about any of it.

Ichigo must have mistook his silence for being offended as he started scrambling for words. “I-I didn’t mean that you look displeasing with the mask. I just meant you look different. I think I, ah, actually like you with your mask better,” he murmured.

Grimmjow stared at Ichigo in surprise. For an embarrassing amount of time neither of them looked away. It wasn’t until another booming snarl of thunder tore through the sky that Grimmjow was finally pulled from his trance.

“Go to sleep before you say something stupid again,” Grimmjow ordered as he turned his eyes back to the sunroof.

The phone’s light flickered off. Within a matter of seconds a gentle snore drifted from Ichigo’s side of the car, the sound oddly soothing to Grimmjow’s ears. The Arrancar sank deeper into his seat and pulled the blanket up higher, drifting asleep to the sound of Ichigo’s gentle snoring and the boy’s heat brushing over his skin like a lover’s fingers.

Chapter 13: Mundane Movement

Chapter Text

The day started abruptly. An alarm set far too early in the morning, to wake Kurosaki, kicked Grimmjow from his sleep. The ginger, much to Grimmjow chagrin, had been awake before the alarm.

“Why didn’t you turn the f*ckin’ thing off?” Grimmjow snapped. He grabbed armfuls of the blanket they had shared the night before and stole it all for himself. As he wrapped himself up in the warm blanket as tiny smile curved the human’s lips.

“I forgot I set it for work. I already called in and luckily I won’t be missed. They scheduled too many people today,” Ichigo said with a shrug as he pulled down his wet hood. Why was the kid all wet? Had there been a leak in the car?

“I didn’t ask for your life story,” Grimmjow grumbled and pulled the blanket over his head.

A noisy paper bag struck Grimmjow’s ribs and the Arrancar groaned moodily. He poked his head out from under the blanket and peered down at the bag. He couldn’t see what was inside, but whatever it was smelled delicious and was hot.

“That’s for waking you up. Also for the question I’m about to ask,” Ichigo said as he gathered his hair into a sloppy bun and pushed back his bangs with a headband.

Curious, Grimmjow sat up and snatched the sack from his lap and looked inside. The intense scent of spices and meat poured from the bag and filled Grimmjow’s nose, causing him to drool. The kid was good. Grimmjow pulled out a thinly wrapped item and peeled the food free from it’s packaging, ogling at was possibly the worst thing anyone could ever shove into their gullet. That was a lotta pig and a lotta cheese on one super thick biscuit. His eyes glanced between the food and the ginger who was doing a poor job at masking his smug grin.

“Alright. Lay it on me,” Grimmjow said with a wave as he bit into his breakfast.

While Grimmjow devoured his food, Ichigo explained his plan for the day. Apparently it called for Grimmjow’s help. They needed to clear out the apartment and hopefully find a new place to stay before nightfall. Carrying furniture and packing required more than one person, which is why Grimmjow was needed. At first the Arrancar was going to refuse to help. It wasn’t his problem, and Ichigo wasn’t his friend. He literally didn’t have a reason to help. But when Kurosaki offered to cook him the biggest steak they could get their hands on as payment for his work...well, who could turn their nose up at that?

After breakfast the two went to speak to the landlord in hopes of getting another apartment in the building, and not get killed for the damages to the old one. To their surprise the landlord explained that a new apartment had been rented in Ichigo’s name and paid off for a whole year, and all the damages had been paid for by a man named Ishida. By the look on Ichigo’s face Grimmjow figured the landlord was talking about the Quincy from last night. He hadn’t expected the man to hold up his promise.

Ichigo received a new key to the new apartment and the two set to work. Luckily they were in the same building, unfortunately the new apartment was on the top floor. They salvaged what they could, which was mostly everything except for Kurosaki’s bed. (Grimmjow found the kid to be rather lucky that his apartment hadn’t been facing the rain.) They took up boxes of smaller items first. Thanks to a nearby elevator they didn’t have to trek up and down a long flight of stairs. The first time Ichigo opened the door to the new apartment they both had expected it to look the same as the last, but they were wrong.

“This looks rather expensive,” Grimmjow mused as he set a box on the marble kitchen counter. It was like walking into a completely different building.

“Very. The top floors must be reserved for big spenders. This is twice the size of the other one,” Ichigo said as he placed his own box on the floor, his eyes appraising the expensive taste.

“Well, no use starin’ at it. We’ve got more work to do. Let’s go.”

One by one they brought each box to the top floor. The glitch in their system became noticeable when it came to moving the furniture. Smaller things like the television and the dresser and the coffee table could be moved through the elevator without much trouble. The problem was the couch.

“We’ll have to use the stairs,” Ichigo sighed.

“How about we just leave it.”

“You do realize that’s what you sleep on, right?”

Grimmjow groaned. The brat had a point.

With a lot of sarcasm, sweat, and half baked insults they were able to wrestle the couch up the stairs and finally into the apartment.

“I’m not...ever gonna…do you a favor again,” Grimmjow panted as he dropped down onto the couch in exhaustion. Damn this weak ass Gigai.

“You bitch so much...I would never ask,” Ichigo retorted.

Grimmjow scoffed at the human’s words, but he couldn’t contain the light smirk that dusted his lips. Ever since his little speech last night the boy had become more like himself. Or at least more open with his sharp tongue. No matter how many insults they had tossed back and forth, though, Ichigo was still unbearably kind. He wouldn’t let Grimmjow carry the heavier boxes. He tried to move some of the furniture by himself, which Grimmjow was sure Kurosaki could have managed if he had a few hours to spare. Admittedly, Grimmjow would have found Ichigo’s actions insulting if he hadn’t been so distracted. During the move Ichigo had at one point removed the jacket he wore on his shoulders to expose the thin tank top beneath. There was a lot more muscle than Grimmjow would have thought. The kid wasn’t a body builder by any means, wasn’t even close to Grimmjow’s body type, but he wasn’t a beanpole either. Kurosaki’s biceps were particularly interesting to watch. The way the muscles shifted under his skin with controlled skill and precision told Grimmjow that he hadn’t lost his skills during those five years. The power behind his muscle was astounding. His body was completely human but the strength that resided under his skin was beyond it. Grimmjow had noticed that he had become winded and tired long before Kurosaki had. Granted, he was in a Gigai made to restrain his abilities, but that didn’t make Ichigo’s strength any less impressive.

“Wanna eat a quick lunch before we set everything up? We can order takeout or maybe I could whip up something real quick,” Ichigo offered as he dug his wallet from his pocket and thumbed through the bills.

Before Grimmjow could answer a knock came to the door. The two shot each other confused glances. The ginger pulled the door open to find a tired man in a beige uniform standing at entryway.

“Uh, how can I help you?” Ichigo asked.

The man’s exhausted grey eyes landed on Ichigo with dull interest. “The bed you ordered. We brought it,” he replied. Even his voice lacked life. Grimmjow was literally dead and this guy seemed more dead than him.

“Um, I think you have the wrong apartment. I didn’t order a bed,” Ichigo said.

A long, drawn out exhale squeezed from the man’s lips as his eyes rolled up, and after a long moment, finally fell back down. “The bed was paid for by Ishida, who said the bed was for the man who lives at this address. Do you want the bed or not?” he asked.

“O-oh, yeah. Go ahead and bring it in. Sorry. Ishida didn’t tell me about this,” Ichigo said as he stepped out of the way.

The two could only marvel at the size of the bed frame two more men in beige dragged into the apartment. It was massive. Much too large for just a singular person to use. Hell, four people could use it at once with room the spare. The workers moved with practiced precision and with a signature from Ichigo they were gone, leaving a complete bed behind.

“Humans are odd, but those guys were really weird,” Grimmjow murmured.

“Welcome to the life of blue collar workers. I get like that too when I’m at my job,” Ichigo chuckled, “C’mon, I’ll order us some food. What’re you in the mood for?”

The phone came alive under Ichigo’s touch and a gently smiling face appeared on the screen. Brown eyes rolled at the image and a sigh fell from frowning lips. Even if Grimmjow hadn’t seen the picture he could tell by Ichigo’s reaction who it was. A thumb tapped the green button and the phone was placed on speaker and held far from the ginger’s face. That was the closest Kurosaki could get to throwing his phone without actually causing damage to it.

“Yo,” Ichigo called out, his voice hard as he co*cked a hip and crossed his arms. It was refreshing to see the kid with a temper again.

“How’s the new apartment?”

Who knew the Quincy could be annoying even over a phone.

“Big. You didn’t have to get one so expensive. It would’ve been fine to get one that was just like the one I had.”

“Nonsense. Your old apartment was the human parallel of a mouse hole. Besides, merely replacing the damage wouldn’t be a proper apology.”

“Saying the words ‘I’m sorry’ would be worth just as much, but cost you less dough.”

“I suppose so, but then again I’ve never been very good with my words around you, Ichigo.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes and Grimmjow quirked a brow. Something was odd about the way they spoke to each other.

“You really shouldn’t have gotten a bed that big either. Damn thing will take me hours to get out of in the morning.”

“You could use the sleep. You’re looking a little worse for wear lately.”

“Ha ha. Hilarious. Why’d you call, Uryū?”

“I wanted to know if you needed assistance with moving.”

“Already done. All we have to do is put things in the right place and ta-da, we have a livable apartment again.”

“We?”

“Yeah. Grimmjow’s helping me.”

“Grimmjow? That Arrancar? He’s helping you?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Quincy. I doubt those scrawny arms of yours could’a done anything besides carry one book at a time,” Grimmjow interjected.

“Am I on speaker?”

“Yeah. Look, I don’t want any fighting so if you don’t have anything else to say I’m gonna hang up, okay?”

“Ichigo, wait! Chad and I are worried about you. Orihime is too. We want to talk with you about...your current situation.”

Grimmjow snorted. Current situation as in the Arrancar. If the Quincy had something to say about him he should just say it.

“Uryū, no. Just, no. Okay? I don’t want to talk about it. There’s no need to talk about it. I told you what the situation is and that’s it. I’m not going to change anything just because you and the others feel like it’s unsafe,” Ichigo’s scowl became darker as he continued, “I know what I’m doing, Uryū. I don’t need you guys to look out for me. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines while all my friends run around endangering their lives just to keep me safe and happy. I hate being helpless and I found a way for me to actually be happy. I know my decision isn’t safe, but nothing I’ve ever done has been safe. I have to be reckless. I’m not gonna get my powers back by sitting around, waiting to die. You have no say in what I do and I’m not gonna change my mind.”

The phone was silent. Grimmjow suspected that the Quincy might have hung up, until a sigh blew through the speaker.

“Okay, Ichigo. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Ichigo cast his eyes over to Grimmjow.

“Grimmjow needs clothes. Mind doing that for me? I’ll pay.”

“Keep your money. I don’t like taking money from people I know. I’ll come by tomorrow to get his measurements.”

“Alright. Thanks, Uryū.”

A hum buzzed through the speaker and the screen fell black. Ichigo sighed and pushed his phone back into his pocket.

“Not bad.”

Ichigo turned to Grimmjow in confusion. The Arrancar’s smirk widened.

“I would’ve liked to hear more threats of violence and a few curse words, but at least you’re finally being real again,” Grimmjow praised.

Ichigo blinked, and then he mirrored the smirk. “Shut up. Let's start getting this place in shape while I order and wait for the food.”

They passed the afternoon with few words. None were needed as they unpacked and rested everything in the rightful place, even when they took a break to eat. After a few hours they finished and Ichigo set to work on dinner, making what he promised and cooking enough to fulfill Grimmjow.

“I’ll have to do the dishes in the morning. I’m exhausted,” Ichigo said, speaking for the first time in hours as he stood up and stretched his tired muscles.

“Mhm, sleep does sound pretty great,” Grimmjow agrees. A twinge in his lower back caused Grimmjow to wince. He massaged the muscle with his fingertips while cautiously stretching his sore back. Gigais were frustratingly fragile.

Ichigo caught the action, a soft frown marring his lips. His eyes flicked to his room, then the floor, then back to the Arrancar. “Hey, Grimmjow, if you want you can sleep with me in my bed.”

His hand stilled. Of all things Grimmjow expected to hear in his life, that was not one of them. The Arrancar raised a brow. “What?” he asked.

A deep crimson blush consumed the ginger’s cheeks as the boy became defensive. Both of Grimmjow’s eyebrows vanished into his hairline.

“N-not like that, dumbass! You’ve been sleeping on the couch and I’m sure the car had to be rough on your back. My new bed is huge and can fit both of us. I just wanted to offer since you’re helping me get my powers back and all,” Ichigo explained as he avoided Grimmjow’s eyes.

It was probably a bad idea to say yes. In fact Grimmjow knew it would be incredibly stupid to accept such a ludicrous offer. However, he didn’t always listen to his better judgement.

“Whatever. Just don’t try to cuddle me or anything. If you do I’ll seriously kill you. Powers or not,” Grimmjow warned as he stood and rolled his shoulders.

“You think too highly of yourself,” Ichigo scoffed.

While the rest of the apartment had been set up similar to the last one, Ichigo’s room was completely different. Since the bed was so large it couldn’t be placed to the side and under the window, but now rested in the center of the back wall. Because of this small shift Ichigo’s desk was now pressed into a tight corner and no longer held the attention of the room. If anyone were to open the bedroom door the first thing their eyes would be drawn to would be the colossal mattress and mahogany bed frame. The room definitely conveyed a message the boy didn’t intend to write.

Grimmjow’s glanced at the wall where a window should be, but instead found a set of glass doors that led to a large balcony. So, the new apartment came with a view.

The sound of fabric falling to the ground called Grimmjow’s attention away. The room came with a view too. Ichigo had shed his shirt, the dirty and sweat drenched article tossed to the floor beside the hamper. Kurosaki wasn’t a messy person, so he must have been exhausted to let his shirt fall wherever. His eyes moved back to the ginger who was currently working on unbuttoning his rather tight jeans. Grimmjow wasn’t an idiot, nor was he blind. He knew Kurosaki was attractive. Tall. Tanned. Expressive brown eyes. High cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Muscular build with an impressive amount of control over his own body. He was probably fairly popular at his school and most likely received a lot of anonymous love letters. A lot of people would probably kill to be where Grimmjow currently was.

Ichigo finally squeezed free from his jeans and kicked them away, leaving the boy in a pair of black boxer briefs that honestly didn’t hide much from Grimmjow’s curious gaze. The Arrancar found himself staring as his eyes roamed over the ginger’s body. There were more scars than the boy had spoken of. A scar over the middle of his chest, a wound in the center of his stomach. Deep lacerations over his thighs and even on his calves and shins. It seemed his friend couldn’t reject all of his wounds. Somehow Grimmjow found himself staring too intensely at the scars, causing his eyes to wander over his unmarked skin and become hypnotized by the way Ichigo’s muscles coiled and shifted with each movement. The ginger’s legs gradually disappeared into a pair of sweatpants and a pale pink tank pull over Ichigo’s head as he turned around. Before the human pulled down the shirt Grimmjow’s sharp eyes caught a splash of black ink on his chest. The kid had a tattoo?

When Ichigo’s eyes moved back to him Grimmjow’s immediately looked away, acting as if he had been too busy studying the room to watch him.

“Uh, do you need some clothes? I might have something that fits you,” Ichigo offered.

Grimmjow shook his head. “You’re too small. You’re clothes suffocate me. Don’t need ‘em anyways,” Grimmjow replied.

Without warning Grimmjow chucked off his shirt, dropped his jeans, and shoved the clothes aside with a kick. He ignored the ginger’s gaping stare by waltzing up to the bed. With a light tug he pulled the covers aside, climbed in, and covered himself again. It look every drop of self respect in his body not to moan. The mattress was literally the most wonderful thing he had ever felt, especially when compared to the couch and the car. It’s like the bed was made for him. Once again, it was proven that humans had it made. Even if there weren’t any bedsheets and only one good pillow.

Minutes passed until Grimmjow suddenly realized he was alone on the mattress. The Arrancar fitfully pushed the blanket back and rolled onto his side as he propped himself up on his elbow while glowering at the human. “What the f*ck’re you doing? Waiting for an invitation?” he growled.

Ichigo’s unfocused brown eyes jumped to Grimmjow’s face and a vivid crimson blush consumed his cheeks. “N-no! I didn’t want to be imposing,” Ichigo stuttered.

“You invited me to sleep with you and suddenly you don’t want to be imposing,” Grimmjow drawled dryly.

Red blossomed across Kurosaki’s skin, the color seeping down the boy’s long neck and burned the tips of his ears. Slender orange eyebrows twitched into an irritated scowl as Ichigo snatched his pillow off the bed and swung. Grimmjow never expected a pillow to pack so much power.

“Shut the f*ck up! I was being nice! Now go to sleep before I change my mind!” Ichigo snapped.

Grimmjow watched with mild amusem*nt as the human angrily climbed into bed and pointedly turned his back on the Arrancar. How dramatic. Blue eyes rolled as Grimmjow settled onto his side once again, leaving a large amount of empty mattress between them.

As soon as Ichigo’s gentle snore hummed in the backroad Grimmjow felt himself become drowsy. His eyes slowly closed, vision blurring as he watched the moonlight bathe the balcony in a brilliant white while sleep pulled him into a heavy black abyss.

Chapter 14: A Ripped Mask's Gentle Touch

Chapter Text

The dark and heavy tide drew back and surged forward, flooding Grimmjow’s mind with a wave of drowsiness as his eyes attempted to open. He only had enough strength to hold one open, but the eyelid waned and threatened to close once more. Normally he’d be okay with that. Especially while he was this tired. There was no reason to be awake. He needed the rest. Just as he convinced himself to go back to sleep, just as his weighted eyelid began to droop, a soft and panicked whimper called his attention back. He had become far too familiar with that sound.

Grimmjow loosened his grip on the pillow under his head and pressed a hand on the mattress in an attempt to move himself. All of his strength had been drained from his muscles. The mattress had turned his bones to liquid. Why was he even fighting this? He should just go back to sleep. He’ll feel so much better after a few more hours, or maybe days, of sleep.

Another groan of distress caused Grimmjow’s ears to twitch and his head to jerk. He had almost fallen back asleep. This bed was far too comfortable. With a sigh Grimmjow channeled all of his strength into his arm and rolled himself onto his back, allowing gravity to do most of the work. His head turned until the left side of his face sank deep into his pillow.

“You’re never gonna let me get a full night’s rest, are you?” Grimmjow mumbled.

At some point during the night Ichigo had shifted onto his back. By the state of the blanket pooled at his feet Grimmjow figured the boy had been kicking in his sleep. It was another nightmare. Why did this boy have so many of them?

“Stop. ‘M tryin’ t’ sleep,” Grimmjow slurred as the tide of drowsiness lapped at his mind once again.

He struggled to keep his eye open as he watched the boy twist in his sleep. Ichigo’s skin wasn’t damp, so the dream had just started. Deep lines carved the boy’s forehead as he scowled in pain. Pink lips peeled apart and exposed perfect teeth with growled complaints squeezing through. The human clawed at the new mattress as he continued to squirm, his movements becoming harsh enough to gently rock the mattress.

Maybe sleeping in the same bed hadn’t been a good idea. Even if the mattress was the best damn thing he had ever experienced in his life. Maybe he should just kick Kurosaki off the bed and make the brat sleep on the floor or the couch. Then he wouldn’t have to share sh*t, nor would he have to deal with these stupid nightmares.

Sunkissed fingers latched onto their shared blanket and with a jerk of muscles the blanket was torn away exposed Grimmjow’s body to the cold night air.

Grimmjow’s eyes snapped open as he jolted from the change in temperature. Goosebumps spread over his exposed skin and caused him to groan as he shivered. f*ck, he had almost fallen asleep again. This bed was too damn comfortable. He dug the heel of his hand into his eye and scrubbed the sleep away as his free hand tried to pull the blanket back over himself.

“K’rosaki, stop. I’m too tired t’ mess with this,” Grimmjow grumbled.

He managed to pull the covers up to his chest, but Ichigo’s nightmares didn’t stop. Kurosaki’s breath hitched, his body growing tense as the first beads of sweat appeared on his skin and his noises became desperate. The nightmare was getting worse.

With a groan Grimmjow reluctantly rolled on his side to face the human. The irrational and irritated part of him really wanted reach out and slap the f*ck out of Kurosaki. However, his rational and lazy side told him it would only make things worse, and use up more energy than he currently had.

This was way too much thinking for such an early hour.

“Stop, dumbass,” Grimmjow sighed as he stretched out his arm and poked the ginger’s soft, freckled cheek.

Ichigo’s limbs locked in place, then his body melted into the bed with a soft sigh. Grimmjow quirked a brow. That was odd. The nightmare deescalated rather quickly. Normally he had to wake up the human to get his nightmares to stop. Why did it only take a mere touch?

Curious, and frankly so tired he didn’t really think about what he was doing, he brushed the back of his fingers across Ichigo’s cheek.

A second sigh fell from Ichigo’s pink lips and his head tilted towards the gentle touch.

Weird. Really f*cking weird. Grimmjow left his fingers resting on the boy’s cheek as his thumb stroked over the human’s freckles.

A hum rattled in Ichigo’s chest and a small smile dusted the corners of his lips.

As if he had been electrocuted, Grimmjow suddenly ripped his hand away, chastising himself for touching the human.

“Damn kid keeping me up. Why the f*ck should I even worry if he gets enough sleep,” Grimmjow huffed.

He turned onto his side again with his back turned to Kurosaki. The fingers that had touched Ichigo’s face throbbed with a muted fire, but the feeling was immediately snuffed. Grimmjow dug his fingers deep into his pillow with a low growl and willed himself to forget the boy. He didn’t have enough energy to do otherwise. Another wave crashed against Grimmjow’s mind and this time the Arrancar allowed himself to drift off into a deep sleep.

Chapter 15: Repetitive Surrender

Chapter Text

Grimmjow hadn’t felt this good in years.

A satisfied groan rattled deep in his throat. His heavy limbs felt as if they were melded to the bed, like the mattress was slowly swallowing him alive.

He honestly wouldn’t mind it.

It took what seemed like hours before he successfully laid on his back, sighing more as tight segments of his spine popped in relief. The blanket had been pushed aside. It was no longer needed. Golden rays seeped through the glass paneled doors and provided enough warmth to heat his skin. That was one thing he was envious of. The humans were able to enjoy the sun daily, but Arrancars only had a cold moon in Hueco Mundo. It was unfair. He loved how the sun felt on his skin, especially his face. A smile brushed Grimmjow’s lips as he stretched under the light. His back arched off the beloved mattress. His toes spread apart. His fingers combed through his messy locks. A yawn spilled from his tongue. Once every last muscle was stretched he collapsed back onto the mattress in a massive puddle of useless limbs. He had never been so f*cking comfortable in his life. Maybe he could stand to sleep a few more hours. This Gigai needed to rest often, after all, and he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He cast a glance at the clock beside the bed. Kurosaki would be gone for at least thirty more minutes. A little nap couldn’t hurt. Grimmjow hummed in content as he squirmed into a comfortable position and let his eyes fall closed.

His peace didn’t last a minute.

Sensitive ears twitched upon hearing a soft knock at the door. He was willing to dismiss it, knowing full well that whomever was on the other side wasn’t there for him, but the knock came again. His brows twisted into a scowl as the faint smile that grazed his lips faded away. The sound became persistent. Growing louder and louder with each passing second the knock became hard to ignore. He still tried and he was successful, until he reached his breaking point.

He’ll admit it. He had a rather short fuse, but only when it came to certain things. Such as someone ignoring him or looking down at him as if he was inferior. That always pissed him off. It would piss anyone off. However, the absolute worst thing for anyone to do, which guarantees the presence of his wrath, is insistently interrupt his sleep. Whoever was knocking on the door had a death wish he was willing to fulfill.

With a snarl Grimmjow forced himself out of bed and stormed up to the front door. He wrenched it open, nearly snapping the doorknob off in the process, and slammed his fist against the doorframe. “Why the f*ck do you keep knocking? If someone doesn’t answer the first time, it means they don’t plan to answer,” he barked.

The raven haired boy—who he quickly recognized as one of Ichigo’s friends—jaw became slack as he gawked at the Arrancar. Grimmjow was fully aware of his appearance. Tangled and disheveled hair. Too-tight boxer briefs clinging to his hips and outlining his form in an ego boosting manner. Tired bags under his eyes. Chest bare with scars and muscle exposed, giving the Quincy an eyeful of Arrancar. Before the boy spoke his gaze dropped to the waistband of Grimmjow’s underwear and his eyes narrowed.

“Are...are you wearing Ichigo’s underwear?” Uryū asked in bewilderment.

“What in the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea what time it is? Some of us are trying to sleep,” Grimmjow hissed.

“It’s 9:45 in the morning,” Uryū scoffed.

“Exactly. Morning,” Grimmjow snatched the front of Uryū’s shirt and yanked the boy forward to snarl in his face, “You better have a very good reason for waking me up, Quincy.”

The human was unfazed. He was one of those people who thought they were stronger than him. This bastard really wanted to die today.

Suddenly, long fingers ensnared his wrist in a firm but non threatening grip. A simmering heat crawled along Grimmjow’s skin and once again pushed up goosebumps along his body. His blue eyes studied the sunkissed fingers before slowly trailing up the limb they were connected to. A slender forearm. A flexing bicep. A strong shoulder. A long neck. A soft and kind face glistening with sweat. The moment Grimmjow’s eyes connected with Kurosaki’s a smile blossomed on the ginger’s face. Grimmjow’s expression soured and his nose wrinkled in disgust. It was that fake smile again. He hated it. It was too cheerful. Too sweet. And it never reached those brown eyes.

“He’s here for you, Grimmjow. Uryū is gonna take your measurements so he can make clothes that actually fit you. My stuff is probably suffocating you,” Ichigo chuckled.

A fake smile and a fake laugh. The gift that kept on giving.

The fingers on Grimmjow’s wrist tightened in a soft squeeze. His touch was very different from five years ago. Grimmjow released Uryū with a rough shove, feeling satisfied when the human stumbled to find his footing, and pulled his wrist out of the ginger’s grasp and fixed him with a grumpy glare. The boy’s shirt was drenched in sweat and clung to his torso. His hair had been pulled up into a high and tight ponytail, but many wild strands of orange hair had escaped and jutted out in odd places. The headband used to pin his bangs back had actually done its job for once and allowed Grimmjow to see the red coloring on his cheeks and sweat on his brow. Kurosaki had finished his morning run early, he must have kicked up his speed today.

“Your friends have worse manners than I do. They keep interrupting my sleep,” Grimmjow said.

Another laugh, but this one was different. It was real. “Yeah, I should’ve warned Uryū not to wake you up. I tried to finish my jog before he got here,” Ichigo admitted.

“Like I wouldn’t deck you too for waking me up,” Grimmjow scoffed.

“True,” Ichigo mused, then smirked as he held up bag full of greasy food, “But I did bring something to soften the blow.”

Grimmjow didn’t waste any time taking the bag from Ichigo’s hand, nor did he hesitate to shove the food into his hungry and drooling mouth. “Yo’ff exquiffed,” Grimmjow mumbled around a mouthful of sausage and biscuit. He stepped aside and let the two in as he retreated to the couch to finish breakfast.

“Hey, at least one of those is mine,” Ichigo called out as he kicked the door closed.

Grimmjow swallowed. “Yeah, the smallest one.”

“They’re all the same size, dumbass,” Ichigo scoffed, filling a glass with water at the kitchen sink.

A heated bundle struck Ichigo between his shoulder blades and caused the ginger to yelp in surprise. A breakfast sandwich fell onto the kitchen floor, smushed inside its wrapper. Ichigo glanced down at the contained mess before shooting a dirty look at the Arrancar. Grimmjow could only grin as he took a large bite out of another sandwich.

“So, I guess it’s safe to assume that the Arrancar has no clothes at all?” Uryū asked, his blue eyes studying Grimmjow in distaste.

“He’s got one days worth of clothing and that’s it. Grimmjow hasn’t really gone anywhere so it hasn’t been too much of an issue, but he’s not going to be cooped up all the time. He’ll also need clothes for colder weather. I let him borrow my biggest hoodie the other day and just breathing risked tearing it,” Ichigo snorted as he picked up his breakfast from the floor.

“That’s because you wear all of your clothes like an extra layer of skin,” Uryū said.

“I do not!” Ichigo objected, then promptly took a bite of his squished sandwich.

Grimmjow had seen the boy’s closet and what he wore. He didn’t want to agree with the Quincy, but he wasn’t wrong.

Uryū ignored the ginger in favor of studying Grimmjow’s form. “What kind of style would you prefer? Normally I wouldn’t have difficulty figuring out a person’s taste, but I don’t know you, which is a relief, and I also find you rather hard to look at,” Uryū mocked.

“I’d be envious too if I were a short, skinny ass dipsh*t human who thinks that mocking an Arrancar is a good idea,” Grimmjow replied calmly before fixing Uryū with a serious stare, “Normally a human like you wouldn’t be appetizing, but I’m petty enough to devour anything so disgusting that it’ll make me regurgitate.”

The bottom of a glass cup struck the marble counter, the sound sharp enough to make Grimmjow wince as it pierced his ears. Water had spilled over the rim and dripped down the sun kissed hand that held the glass in a tight grip. A dark look festered on Ichigo’s face, a look Grimmjow had never seen before, then it was swiftly wiped away with a frighteningly large smile as he pushed his glass aside.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. Try not to kill each other, m’kay?” Ichigo said before disappearing into the bathroom.

The smile on his face was as fake as the last, but it was so thin anyone could see the malicious anger boiling beneath. For some reason his eating habits really disturbed Kurosaki, and Grimmjow didn’t believe it was for the normal generic reasons.

“Stand up. I want to get this over with,” Uryū ordered.

A poisonous retort danced on the tip of Grimmjow’s tongue but the words slipped away when the shower turned on. Fighting wouldn’t make any of this go faster. It would only end up pissing off Kurosaki, which wasn’t ideal. If he was mad then everyone was mad. The brat had that effect on people.

“Make this quick and don’t get handsy,” Grimmjow warned as he stood up.

“I’m revolted just by breathing the same air as you. Touching you is the last thing I’d ever want to do,” the Quincy scoffed.

The experience wasn’t as painful as the Arrancar expected it to be. With every direction that tumbled from the human’s tongue in an authoritative tone was met with a roll of Grimmjow’s eyes. Every time fingers brushed his skin a low rumbling growl rattled in warning, which the the Quincy waved away with an unintimidated snort. The delicate balance the two had created lasted much longer than Grimmjow had expected, but it all came to an end when Uryū decided to speak.

“What are your intentions with Ichigo?” Uryū asked while standing behind Grimmjow as his measuring tape stretched from one shoulder to the other.

Grimmjow was beginning to notice that he rolled his eyes a lot around humans. “Don’t phrase your questions like that. He’s not your damn daughter and I sure as hell ain’t dating him. He told you already. I’m helping him regain his powers so I can kick his ass.”

“You’re going to wait to fight him?” The Quincy sounded surprised.

“I have to. In the state he’s in he wouldn’t be fun to kill. It’d be like murdering a baby,” Grimmjow scoffed. Humans didn’t seem to understand the difference between fighting to the death and assassination. He wasn’t Nnoitra. He didn’t need nor wanted sneak attacks to overpower his enemies and win his battles. He didn’t want advantages and he didn’t want the higher ground. He wanted even footing so that there would be no doubt as to who was stronger.

“You plan to honor your own words?”

Measuring tape suddenly wrapped around Grimmjow’s throat with the ends pulled tight. It didn’t hurt, and it wasn’t meant to, but it applied enough pressure to send a message.

“If you don’t uphold your own words, I would like to give you a warning. If you even try to lay a hand on Kurosaki outside of training or take training too far, you’ll find many new holes in your body, Arrancar,” Uryū warned, his voice holding the same sophisticated tone as before, but with a heavy weight to his words.

A broad smirk split Grimmjow’s face in two. “I would love to see you try, Quincy.”

~***~

A bell sang as Ichigo pushed on a glass door and waved to the humans in uniform who greeted him by name.

“I’m in here so much they know be my name. It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” Ichigo laughed.

Grimmjow watched as Ichigo approached the first rack of CDs, his brown eyes expertly brushing over each title as he searched for what he wanted. The boy had a real obsession with music. The only reason why Grimmjow agreed to come with him on his little trip to the music store was because he was tired of sitting in that boring apartment. He wasn’t used to being so still all the time.

“I wouldn’t know. Nor would I care. You’re just buying things you enjoy, and it’s your damn money. That shouldn’t be a big deal,” Grimmjow shrugged as he pushed his hands deep into his pockets. He felt very out of place. The music that floated throughout the store was foreign to him as were the CDs Kurosaki was practically drooling over. Entertainment in Hueco Mundo was very different from the World of the Living. Here, they had books and movies and games and music, all of which are intended to create laugher and joy. Back home it was the opposite. All Hollows could do is survive. Kill and eat. Eat and kill. Fight and become stronger. Run and hide. Grow weak and die. He wasn’t sore about it. That’s just how things were. Living was a thing for humans. Suffering was for sinning creatures like Hollows.

“Huh. I guess that is a way to look at it,” Ichigo mused, then paused and looked at Grimmjow, “Wait, have you ever heard music? Do Arrancars even have access to this stuff?”

Grimmjow shook his head. “I personally haven’t heard much. When I was a Hollow I heard it whenever I went hunting and humans would be playing it in their homes, performing on the streets, or blasting it in their cars. Now that I’m an Arrancar I never really leave Hueco Mundo. Well, until now that is,” Grimmjow said as his eyes browsed over a few titles. He couldn’t tell the difference between album titles and band names, but neither mattered. Most of them were gibberish anyways.

“That literally hurts my soul,” Ichigo said, a look of determination washing over his face as he smirked, “I’m gonna have to give you a crash course on music. Luckily for you I listen to just about everything, so you’re gonna get a broad education. “

“You do realize that I’m not here for fun, right? Do I need to remind you why I’m here?” Grimmjow asked with an arched brow.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re gonna train me and then kick me ass. I get it, and it’s a great plan, but seriously Grimmjow you gotta let yourself have some fun during all of this,” Ichigo said as he picked the first album.

“Fighting you is supposed to be the fun part,” Grimmjow grumbled under his breath. There was no point in resisting. The ginger did whatever he wanted and it seemed like he couldn’t be stopped.

He allowed the ginger to drag him throughout the store as he droned on and on about his favorite bands and the different genres of music. Grimmjow had fully intended to tune the boy out, but he actually found himself listening intently to every word Kurosaki said. This was one of the few times Grimmjow had seen Ichigo happy. Real smile and everything. The Arrancar had honestly forgotten what the ginger looked like without a scowl on his face and lighthearted joy in his eyes. Then again, he probably had never seen Kurosaki look this way before. People aren’t normally happy around their enemies.

So far, Grimmjow had deduced that Ichigo didn’t particularly have a favorite genre of music. Every album he selected had been different from the last and he spoke of each one with high praise. Rock, hip hop, alternative, metal, the genre didn’t matter. That wasn’t what Kurosaki was interest in. What he loved was the emotional value of songs. Anger. Sadness. Betrayal. Pride. Hope. Regret. Rebellion. All he wanted was for the song to make him feel something. The boy spoke so passionately of music and its history that he couldn’t help the question that burst from his lips.

“Do you do any of this stuff? Like play an instrument or sing?” Grimmjow asked, interrupting Ichigo’s current speech on an American rap artist.

An awkward and shy smile curled on Ichigo’s lips as his eyes turned back to the albums. “Uh, not really. I mean, I used to play guitar but I was never really that good at it. I sold it few years back so I could pay for my apartment,” he replied.

Ichigo’s fingers brushed over the stack of albums as his eyes grew dull and distant. “Sorry if I’m talking too much and annoying you,” he murmured.

He hated that face too. Almost as much as he hated that fake smile. With a loud snort Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders and began thumbing through a cluster of CDs. “Can’t really annoy someone who’s not listening to you,” Grimmjow replied. It was such a big and obvious lie, but he’d rather lie than actively acknowledge that he was trying to make the ginger feel better. As if that was even something he should be concerned about.

An odd silence followed after his words and his curiosity overwhelmed him. His light blue eyes glanced at the human and his thumb stilled. The world’s softest yet most genuine smile dusted Kurosaki’s lips, and the smile was directed at him. Grimmjow tore his eyes away from the boy’s lips to his eyes in hopes of escaping the weird atmosphere that suddenly surrounded them, but that decision was a big mistake. The smile the human wore was nothing compared to the look in his eyes. Those brown irises were cozy and warm and full of not only gratitude, but fondness. It was beyond wrong. He wanted to make Kurosaki look away. He wanted to say something vile and watch with satisfaction as that scowl marred the ginger’s brow once again. But his tongue wouldn’t remove itself from the roof of his mouth and his jaw was frozen in place.

This was weird.

“Ichigo?”

The moment shattered and Grimmjow felt as if he could breathe again when those brown eyes turned away. Kurosaki’s honest smile fizzled away and was replaced with another overstretched grin.

“Chad! What are you doing here, man?” Ichigo greeted as he approached his friend.

Great. Another friend that wanted him dead. At least the human interrupted whatever that thing was. Grimmjow chose to continue flipping through the different albums, pretending to appraise the art on each cover as he eavesdropped on their conversation.

“How’s school?” Chad asked, his deep voice rumbling but gentle. Grimmjow remembered what Ichigo said about the human, but immediately dismissed the “he’s a teddy bear” theory. Ichigo’s opinion was bias.

“Same old sh*t, honestly. Majoring in criminal justice has been interesting, but the workload is awful,” Ichigo sighed.

“You sure you’re not forcing yourself to do too much?” Chad asked.

“I’m not forcing myself to do more than I need to,” Ichigo said indignantly.

Grimmjow couldn’t restrain his sarcastic snort. The noise was loud enough to be heard by the two, which resulted in Ichigo shooting him a dirty glare.

“What? The name of this band is ridiculous. The Sassy Laddies. Who the hell would ever willingly call themselves that?” Grimmjow said as he turned his attention back to the albums. He had lied again, but at least he was more convincing than Kurosaki was.

To keep himself from getting involved in their little talk Grimmjow devoted all of his attention to the albums. They were in the American music section so he didn’t understand a f*cking word he was reading, but he read it anyways. The only words he recognized were the occasional Spanish titles, which usually consisted of the use of amor. If he rolled his eyes one more time he was going to get dizzy.

“Hey, Grimmjow.”

His eyes jumped up to the ginger who was pointing over his shoulder.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go ask about an album I can’t find,” he said.

Grimmjow emitted a grunt as he turned his eyes away, the sound alerting Kurosaki that he heard him. Without another word the ginger walked away. He had expected the large human (Chad?) to go with his friend, but he didn’t move an inch. Grimmjow didn’t pay attention to him, choosing to act as if the man wasn’t even there as he became engrossed with the titles.

It wasn’t until a massive shadow loomed over him that Grimmjow acknowledged the human with an annoyed glare.

“You got a problem?” he snapped.

The man’s face didn’t change, although Grimmjow wasn’t sure he ever really expressed anything. Kind of reminded him of Ulquiorra but taller, larger, and a little less dangerous.

“Just a small one,” Chad replied.

The human moved closer and Grimmjow took a wary step back. When his heel struck the wall behind him a defensive sneer wrinkled the Arrancar’s face. He couldn’t believe he let the human back him into a corner. He couldn’t believe how massive this human was, either. He was only four inches taller, but the man’s biceps alone were larger than Grimmjow’s head. He was like a gross fusion of Yammy and Ulquiorra. The thought alone nearly made him gag.

“Don’t hurt Ichigo,” Chad warned. He continued to lean down until he was face to face with Grimmjow, who suddenly realized that he was cowering away. Well, this was really pathetic and shameful.

Chad’s spiritual pressure suddenly spiked and caught Grimmjow off guard. He tried to push back with his own, but that damn Urahara had placed a limit on how much spiritual pressure his Gigai could release. The Arrancar clenched his jaw tightly as he tried to still the buckling in his knees while glaring back at the human.

“If you hurt him...you’ll have to answer to me.”

His knees finally gave out from the pressure. Grimmjow’s hands flew out and held onto a large CD bin to keep himself standing as he refused to allow panic to fester in his chest. This human was asking to die by his hand.

“Don’t get so f*cking co*cky, human. The deal is I won’t hurt Kurosaki. Doesn’t say sh*t about his friends. Keep talkin’ bullsh*t to me and I might just use you to clean the rust off my blade,” Grimmjow snarled. He wasn’t as intimidating as he wanted to be. His voice was strained from the amount of energy he was using to keep himself standing. Despite his best efforts panic had wormed its way into his heart and now it was pumping through his veins. He hated this damn Gigai so much.

“I need to leave before I blow all my money on music.”

Chad’s spiritual pressure vanished and a gasp burst from Grimmjow’s mouth. His head swam as he struggled to regain his footing on reality and continued to cling to the bin.

Ichigo peered around Chad with a thick stack of CDs in his hands and frowned. “Grimmjow, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” Grimmjow wheezed, “Some of these band names are just really painful.”

~***~

It took three hours and four full sized helpings of lunch to wash off his shame. He couldn’t believe he let a human get the upper hand so easily. If he had reacted faster he could’ve gotten out of his body and taught that damn human who was really in control, but he had become slow and lazy. The damn Gigai was infuriatingly sluggish and was always exhausted no matter how much sleep he got. Plus, the tiny cuts all over his arms and face were still sore. Especially after Ichigo changed every bandage with fresh medicine and a new band aid. The only reason why he stayed in the stupid thing was because of Ichigo. The human couldn’t see him without it.

A knock came to the door and Grimmjow barely held in a groan. Who was it now? Was Urahara going to threaten him again? Maybe Ichigo’s father if he heard the news? He could have guessed for hours and nothing would have prepared him to see the woman responsible for the war (well, at least Kurosaki’s involvement) standing at Ichigo’s doorway with a large cake in her hands.

“Orihime? What are you doing here?” Ichigo asked in surprise.

That sweet smile the girl always wore sparkled on her face as she held out the cake. “The bakery had leftovers and I know you like chocolate cake, so I thought I’d bring it to you,” Orihime answered.

Her voice was annoying. Not as annoying as her obvious lie, though. Ichigo either didn’t notice the lie or didn’t care as he smiled in return and let her in. “I’ll get us some plates. Uh, I assume Chad and Uryū told you about the situation,” Ichigo asked warily, casting a glance at Grimmjow.

“Oh, yeah! Uryū told me this morning. I’m glad you found a way to get your powers back, Ichigo!” she said cheerfully.

Oh, she was good. If he didn’t know any better Grimmjow would’ve believed that lie too.

Ichigo turned to the kitchen to divvy up the cake, giving Orihime the opportunity to sit in the chair across from Grimmjow. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew why she was here. It was another “don’t kill Kurosaki” conversation. Out of the three, she was the least intimidating. The healing powers she possessed were unbelievable, he’ll recognize that, but outside of that she was as weak as they come.

Although he was rather surprised to see the girl’s smile morph into a serious frown as she shot him a hard stare. Since when did she have backbone?

“Mr. Jaegerjaquez, I know you are helping Kurosaki regain his powers...but I do feel like I have to warn you.”

He blinked. Was she serious? Was she honestly going to threaten him? A confident smirk slithered across Grimmjow’s lips as he chortled. “If I hurt him what are you going to do? Heal me to death?” he snickered.

“I wouldn’t hesitate to take you down.”

Okay. He wasn’t expecting that answer. “What?”

“Kurosaki always protected me and fought for me when I was in trouble, now it’s my turn to do the same for him. I don’t want to hurt you, Mr. Jaegerjaquez, but if you harm Kurosaki in any way I will have to do just that,” Orihime stated. Her voice was steady. Her eyes didn’t look away. Her body calm and still. She was serious.

“And just how do you expect to do that, princess?” Grimmjow mocked.

“Remember how my healing abilities reject the wound and make it as if it never existed? Imagine that ability honed into a weapon,” her honest eyes were almost cold, “That’s what’s what I will do if Ichigo is hurt.”

Humans weren’t supposed to be intimidating. What the f*ck is wrong with Kurosaki’s friends?

~***~

Even a thirty minute scolding hot shower couldn’t wash away his irritation and shame at this point. He left the bathroom deep in thought, grumbling to himself about how stupid it was to be intimidated by a bunch of humans. Powers be damned, they were still weaker than him.

Grimmjow froze upon seeing Ichigo sitting alone on the couch with a laptop on his lap. He wouldn’t have given two sh*ts about what the ginger was doing if it weren’t for the three humans on the laptop’s screen glaring in his direction. That was it.

Ichigo caught sight of Grimmjow and smiled lightly. “Oh, hey Grimmjow. These are some of my friends from my hometown. Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro—.”

“That’s enough!” Grimmjow snarled as he threw the towel he was using to dry his hair on the floor in a fit of rage, “How many times do I have to f*cking say it! I’m not gonna hurt Kurosaki! I want him at full strength when I kick his ass! All of you overprotective little sh*ts need to f*cking keep to your own damn business!”

Steaming, Grimmjow stomped toward the bedroom and kicked the door open before turning back around. “And if you humans try to threaten me, I will kill you with no regrets.”

The Arrancar slammed the door with an earsplitting boom that caused Ichigo to jump. The ginger stared at the door for a few moments before looking back at his laptop unamused.

“Alright, what have you and the others been up to?”

Chapter 16: More Apologies

Chapter Text

The bed dipped from added weight. A burst of cold air brushed over Grimmjow’s skin as the blanket was temporarily lifted. After a few moments of shifting the boy finally settled and heat began to build under the covers once more.

“Grimmjow? You still awake?”

The Arrancar sighed. Just one night of sleep. That’s literally all he wanted.

“Am now,” he grumbled in reply.

A gentle chuckle filled the air and Grimmjow’s heart stuttered. That was his real laugh again. Why did he keep doing that?

“Sorry, man. I just wanted to apologize for my friends. That’s why I didn’t tell them about you before. I knew they would hound your ass about my safety. Sorry if they got on your nerves,” Ichigo apologized.

Laughing. Smiling. Apologizing. Why did Kurosaki keep doing that? More importantly, why did he mean it when the three were directed at him? All he did was lie about his happiness to his friends, but when he was with Grimmjow it suddenly wasn’t a lie anymore. It was confusing as hell.

“None of them are on my level anyways.” Grimmjow dismissed with a shrug, “Your friends don’t play around, though. They’re about as serious about taking me down as you were five years ago.”

“They’re overprotective,” Ichigo admitted.

He did not just hear that come out of his mouth.

“That’s a lot coming from you,” Grimmjow said before rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his arm to stare down at Kurosaki, “And they’re right. Given the chance to skewer you, I will take it. It may not now because killing a weak human is boring as f*ck, but when your powers come back I won’t go easy on you.”

The light in Kurosaki’s eyes dimmed and the smile on his lips disappeared. Cinnamon brown eyes dropped, avoiding Grimmjow’s gaze.

“Got it,” he mumbled before rolling onto his side, turning his back to the Arrancar.

With a snort Grimmjow did the same and laid on the edge of the mattress with a scowl.

For some reason that hadn’t felt as good as he expected it to.

Chapter 17: Leaning

Chapter Text

Light seeped through thin white curtains, bathing the bed in a dim yellow hue. Dust twisted slowly through the shafts of light like weightless snow. The air was still and the atmosphere calm, the shadows soaking the room in cozy blue. The traffic in the busy streets below couldn’t penetrate the apartment’s protective bubble, the silence making it seem like they were in their own world. One where the only sounds their eager ears could hear was the steady cycle of breathing and the gentle beats of their hearts. The faded light warmed bright locks of orange hair and caused gold to twinkle in brown eyes. The strained rays eagerly swarmed the boy’s white clothes and caused him to glow in an angelic fashion. The shadows clung to a larger form as if they wanted to consume his body, staining him in a deep, chilly ocean blue.

“Ready?” Grimmjow asked.

The Arrancar moved from the shadows to stand before the human as his fingers tugged at the red glove clinging to his hand. The sunlight spread through a black tank top and warmed the frozen skin on his back, while his shadow consumed the ginger in a cold solar eclipse. Sunkissed fingers squeezed the covers in comfort. The fabric was released moments later as the boy’s spine straightened with newfound bravado and nodded.

“I’m ready,” Ichigo agreed.

He was nervous. Grimmjow could see it in his eyes. What they were about to do wasn’t necessarily risky, but he understood why he wouldn’t feel comfortable. Being powerless in a dangerous situation would make anyone antsy.

“Just breathe normally. You start freaking out and it’ll make this whole process a lot harder,” Grimmjow said as he gave the glove a final tug.

The human chuckled and brushed bangs from his forehead, only to let them fall back into place. “You know, I have been in my Soul form before,” he replied.

The cold fingertips brushed over Ichigo’s skin and the smile on his lips flickered away. Grimmjow motioned for Ichigo to stand up and the human obeyed. He placed his palm flat on Ichigo’s chest, taking note of how the human’s breath hitched. The warmth of the boy’s skin and the rushing heartbeat drumming under his palm pulsed through Grimmjow’s arm. The sensation caused a ripple of goosebumps along the Arrancar’s flesh, but he ignored it.

“Your enemy wasn’t standing before you then,” Grimmjow said.

Ichigo’s brow furrowed. “You’re not—,” the boy stopped himself and lowered his eyes to the Arrancar’s clavicle, a pained smile brushing his lips, “You’re not wrong.”

Grimmjow stared at the boy’s face for a few moments then turned his gaze to his hand. He pushed his palm forward slowly, uncertain of the outcome it would produce. Ichigo’s breath caught and Grimmjow’s hand stilled.

“I told you to breathe. You’re resisting,” Grimmjow muttered. His spare hand reached up and his finger flicked the ginger’s temple. The unexpected touch caused a rushed chuckle from Kurosaki’s lips.

“Sorry. Guess I am nervous,” he admitted.

Being cautious was a good thing. Being nervous and anxious was not. Normally, Grimmjow would use a good dose of violence to shape up baby Arrancar that were too chicken to hold a sword. A bash to the head. A broken limb. A hand through their body. Even make them watch as he slaughtered an Arrancar that had no chance of becoming stronger. His bloody actions always frightened others into abandoning their cowardice.

If he used such methods on Kurosaki, the boy would surely die or resist. He needed to use a softer method.

This human was a lot of work.

With a sigh Grimmjow placed his free hand on Ichigo’s shoulder and gently squeezed the muscle below. “Relax. If you keep resisting it’s gonna hurt like hell when I push you out. I don’t wanna deal with your bitching,” Grimmjow repeated.

“Yeah, that doesn’t help, man. That’s like a teacher telling a whole class how important it is too make a good grade on a test, and then tells them they’ll do great, but it ends up freaking them the hell out and they all fail,” Ichigo muttered. His fingers began to pick at his nails, struggling to tear off the extra length to ease his jitters.

“You’ll be fine.”

“That’s not help—.”

Grimmjow moved his hand from the boy’s shoulder to cradle the back of Ichigo’s neck and forced the human to look into his eyes.

“It’s not helping because you’re not believing me. Since when have I been a liar, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow asked.

Ichigo parted his lips to speak in retaliation, but soon his lips morphed into a smile. “I guess you got me there. Sorry,” Ichigo squared his shoulders as his smile grew, “I’m ready when you are.”

The ginger trusted him way too much, but at least it was helpful in this situation.

Grimmjow’s hand slipped back down to the boy’s shoulder as he pressed the gloved hand forward. His fingers sank into Ichigo’s chest bit by bit when all resistance suddenly disappeared and his whole hand pushed through. Ichigo gasped as he was pushed free from his body. His hand shot out and held onto the bed frame for support as his knees buckled. Grimmjow grunted when Ichigo’s body collapsed against him, surprised that someone so lean could weigh so much.

“Breathe,” Grimmjow warned as he carefully laid Ichigo’s body on the floor.

“Y’know telling me to breathe doesn’t magically fix the problem, right?” Ichigo snapped.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, “It would if you actually listened to me.”

The boy ignored him. Heavy pants and rocky wheezes poured from Ichigo’s throat. Sweat raced down his temple as his body continued to shake from the strain. The boy clenched his teeth tightly as he tried to resist, but soon a slew of curses spilled from his lips as his buckling knees finally gave out. Ichigo collapsed onto the bed while clutching the chain that jutted out from his chest.

“f*ck, f*ck, f*ck. I forgot...how much it f*cking sucks...to be a Soul,” Ichigo panted.

A smile dusted the corner of Grimmjow’s lips as he took a step back with a snort. “Stop bitching and stand up. You gotta get used to this form.”

Ichigo nodded in agreement. He took in a deep breath, released it, then pushed himself to his feet. He smiled to himself as he managed to stand at his full height, but that smile immediately disappeared when his knees started to buckle again.

“C’mon, stay standing, damnit,” Ichigo hissed.

Without warning his knees gave out and Ichigo cursed as he fell forward.

Grimmjow’s hands took hold of the boy’s waist in an attempt to catch Ichigo before he fell, but he continued to fall anyways and crashed into the Arrancar. Grimmjow grunted as he adjusted his feet to keep his balance with Ichigo’s added weight. He still couldn’t believe how heavy the brat was. The ginger was shaking in his arms, but his face was hidden in Grimmjow’s neck, making it hard for the Arrancar to decide if it was from fear or anger.

“Come on. Stand up. Don’t be pathetic,” Grimmjow ordered.

“I know, I know. Just...give me a second,” Ichigo murmured.

Grimmjow shivered when he felt Ichigo’s lips brush his neck as he spoke. He suddenly became aware of their position and quickly grew uncomfortable. This was definitely not something enemies did. His hands on Ichigo’s small waist. Kurosaki’s fingers clawing at his shirt. Their bodies pressed flush against one another as if they were lovers. It was wrong. Totally and completely wrong. It didn’t help that Kurosaki continued to pant right on his neck, either. The boy’s breath was hot and heavy and spread a simmering fire through his skin, and the sound alone caused heat to rise in his belly. This was really bad.

“Stand up! You’re acting pathetic!” Grimmjow growled, his voice tense. His hands tightened on Kurosaki’s waist in an attempt to push the ginger away, but dead weight was incredibly heavy and in his gigai he wasn’t as strong as he wished to be. Not to mention Ichigo was still panting very loudly and the breathy sound had a major effect on the arousal growing in the pit of his stomach.

This was worse than bad. It was a f*cking nightmare.

“Just...give me a second,” Ichigo murmured.

Warm hands took hold of Grimmjow’s biceps and the Arrancar jolted at the unexpected touch. With a weak groan the ginger pushed himself away from Grimmjow and stood on his own, but his hands continued to cling to Grimmjow as a precaution.

“Okay...I think I’m good now,” Ichigo sighed, his breathing still harsh and erratic.

Which also caused Grimmjow’s stomach to do somersaults.

“Then why are you still touching me?” Grimmjow growled.

“Usin’ you...as a safety net,” Ichigo replied.

He wanted to shove the human away. He wanted to punch the ginger for even thinking about touching him. He wanted to yell at the boy for making him feel this weird sh*t. But he didn’t. It wouldn’t solve anything. Judging by his state, the brat wasn’t aware of what he was doing. So Grimmjow kept his mouth shut and tried with all his might to stomp out the fire he was ashamed even existed. There was definitely a drawback to living alone for five years.

Ichigo, on the other hand, was still struggling to breathe. The cycle was too fast. With those short huffs there’s no way he was getting air into his lungs. This was more work than Grimmjow had signed up for. With a sigh the Arrancar turned his hands to hold onto Ichigo’s elbows to ensure that he wouldn’t fall.

“Push out all the air in your lungs, then breathe in as deeply as you can. Do that for a few minutes,” Grimmjow ordered.

Ichigo nodded and did as he was told. Eventually each breath became easier. His panting became softer. The tight grip on his arms loosened. The boy’s legs no longer quaked.

“Good. Try to breathe normally. Is it any easier?” Grimmjow asked.

“Still hurts a bit, but at least I don’t feel like I’m dying from asphyxiation,” Ichigo chuckled.

“It’s a start. You need to move around, though. You won’t be able to stand on your own at this rate,” Grimmjow said.

“Where’s a treadmill when you need one?” Ichigo joked.

“No idea what that is, but you don’t need it. As much as it pains me, we have to take things slow.”

“Urahara didn’t take it slow when I first lost my powers.”

“Back then you lost your powers for a day, and they were technically the powers of your friend. It’s been five years since you fought Aizen and that time you lost your own abilities. You’re going to need more time to recover,” Grimmjow corrected.

A sad smile twisted Ichigo’s lips as his eyes became dark. “That’s true. At this rate, who knows if I’ll actually be able to get them back.”

That look was never a good sign. It annoyed him that the kid gave up so easily. He didn’t used to. Then again his persistence pissed him off too, but at least it wasn’t pathetic.

“Knowing you, if it’s impossible for something to happen, it’ll happen for you. The odds tend to lean in your favor,” Grimmjow scoffed.

“Doesn’t really feel like it,” Ichigo replied honestly.

“Yeah. That’s why you’ve escaped death a billion times. You have terrible luck,” Grimmjow said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

A chuckle made Grimmjow’s heart stutter. Honey brown eyes twinkled as the boy smiled at him brightly. “I guess you’re right,” Ichigo admitted.

The heat radiating off Ichigo’s hands suddenly flushed through Grimmjow’s body and forced the Arrancar to shake off the last rush of cold with a shiver. What was with this kid and touching and smiling and being nice? Why the hell did this body respond to all of that? Why couldn’t he stop looking at those damn eyes?

He had to get out of there fast.

“I have to take a sh*t.”

Okay. That was a little too fast.

Ichigo raised a brow as he bit on his lips to hold back his growing smile. He didn’t have as much control on his laughter.

“Do some stretches or a light workout or whatever. I gotta go,” Grimmjow said as he pulled his arms away. Ichigo struggled for balance, but caught himself before he could fall.

Grimmjow retreated as quickly as he could. His hands scrubbed at his arms in an attempt to brush away the goosebumps that had risen and push away the heat teasing his skin. The sound of Ichigo’s loud panting echoed in his mind and Grimmjow reached up to rub at his neck, shivering when he remembered how the boy’s breath felt on his skin. Heat warmed Grimmjow’s face and he grumbled to himself as he scratched at the skin in an attempt to erase the sensation.

He really hated this body.

Chapter 18: Unforeseen Touch

Chapter Text

His whole body was buzzing. From his fingertips to his guts he was shaking from the anticipation of what they were about to do. Even the three hour car ride hadn’t even caused a dent in his eagerness. He had waited for so long, but it was finally here. The first day of training. His body was singing. The thought of crossing swords with Kurosaki again—even thinking about it made him dizzy with overwhelming giddiness. Today was going to be perfect.

That is, until f*cking Urahara ruined the only thing he enjoyed in the world.

“Both of you will have to take it easy and start out slow. Kurosaki can’t leave his body either. I don’t want to chance his health over a little training. Also, remember that you only have two hours,” Urahara warned as they entered the training grounds.

Grimmjow’s shoulders slumped and his back hunched as he released a long, drawn out sigh. “Thank you for the reminder, you absolute buzzkill and thorn in my side. Don’t you have anything better to do other than ride my ass over stupid sh*t I already know?”

“I wasn’t aware you actually knew anything,” Urahara responded.

A snarl formed in Grimmjow’s throat as a turned to give the blonde a piece of his mind (and probably a swift punch to the gut), but was stopped when Ichigo swatted at Urahara’s shoulder.

“Leave him alone. You keep acting like that and you’ll turn into the mean old man on the block. It’s not a good look for you,” Ichigo said.

Long fingers twisted orange locks into a disheveled bun and pushed a headband into place. There were always a few hairs that still fell onto his forehead. Grimmjow wanted to ask why the ginger even bothered with having long hair if it always got in his way, but it would be pointless. He already knew the answer.

“So, Grimmjow, what did you have in mind? I never really thought to ask,” Ichigo said, looking at him with curious eyes.

“Sadly, nothing special. At this point we don’t really know if you can get your powers back, unless you take a big risk, which I have been warned not to let you take,” Grimmjow scoffed at the memory. As if any of these humans could take him on.

“So...what are we doing here?” Ichigo asked.

“We can’t force your powers to come back to you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t boost your spiritual pressure. Before you became a Soul Reaper you were able to see and interact with Spirits and eventually saw Hollows. Getting you back to that point is our goal, for now,” Grimmjow dug into his pockets and pulled out the Soul Candy Dispenser, “I want to focus on exposing you to spiritual pressure and make it so you are able to sense the presence and movements of spiritual beings. Seeing them takes too long and your eyes can make you see what you want to see and some enemies can pull the same trick. If you can sense spiritual pressure the rest doesn’t matter. No matter who your opponent is you’ll be able to anticipate and dodge their every move.”

A light smirk dusted Ichigo’s lips. “I’ve never heard you talk so much without yelling and cursing at me.”

Grimmjow snorted and pushed the pill from the dispenser. “You’re the one who asked, dumbass.”

He tossed the pill into his mouth and swallowed. The same wave of dizziness rolled through his body and pushed him free from the Gigai. His fake body dropped to its knees as he took a step back and rolled his shoulders with a groan. It felt so much better to be in his own skin rather than that sock puppet body. His hand slipped down to Pantera, smiling when the blade burned under his touch. It was great to be himself again.

“Don’t get any ideas, Arrancar,” Urahara warned.

Grimmjow watched as the blonde’s hand tightened on the end of his cane and snorted. “Try threatening me with that pathetically concealed sword when I’m in my Gigai. You’re nowhere near my level, dumbass,” he said, dismissing his threat by turning his attention completely to Ichigo.

Grimmjow instantly deflated at the sight of Kurosaki. His brown eyes bounced from one patch of air to the next in hopes of finding Grimmjow’s face. He knew the boy wasn’t going to find him. He couldn’t even hear him either. There were drawbacks to being in his own body.

“Uh, what ideas are we talking about?” Ichigo asked, his eyes still searching for Grimmjow.

The Gigai suddenly twitched. Grimmjow quickly became aware of how creepy it was to watch his body (even a fake one) move without his command. The Gigai’s head lifted and a large grin stretched across the face, a smile that was lustful and sleazy and Grimmjow found disgusting.

“I have a few ideas I think you and I should talk about, love,” the Kaizō Konpaku purred.

A snicker blossomed from Kurosaki’s lips as Grimmjow glared.

“Have you thought about what you want us to call you?” Ichigo asked. The Kaizō Konpaku’s smile faltered. He ducked his head in embarrassment and plucked at a loose strand on his jeans. “I, ah, thought about going by the name Goro. It was the name one of my brothers chose for himself before...y’know, imminent death.”

Ichigo’s smile became sad. “That’s a good name. Sorry for your loss.”

Goro nodded and dusted off his jeans as he stood. “It’s alright. sh*t happens. Although if you’re wanting to give me a kiss as means of cheering me up, I will eagerly accept—.”

“If you don’t stop talking, I will cero your ass,” Grimmjow growled.

Goro held his hands up in surrender while rolling his eyes. “Me-ow. Relax. I was kidding. You’re a little too sensitive about your Gigai, man. You don’t even like it.”

“I don’t like it, but it has my face. If you say one more word I will seriously rip off your arm and beat you to death with it,” Grimmjow warned.

The Arrancar watched as his own eyes rolled in response to his words, but at least the Kaizō Konpaku wasn’t talking anymore.

“Alright, we’re going to start off with the easiest most boring sh*t first so we can get it out of the way. I won’t attack you, since apparently that’s too much for training,” Grimmjow mocked as he cast Urahara a glare, “So I want you to stop me before I’m able to tap you. Got it?”

Ichigo blinked.

Grimmjow sighed again. Right. He couldn’t hear him. “Goro, tell him what I said.”

When the Kaizō Konpaku didn’t speak, Grimmjow shot him an unamused glare. “Why are you causing me trouble?”

Goro shrugged dramatically and gestured at his tightly sealed lips.

“If you want to be a smartass do it on your own time. I only have two hours to train him,” Grimmjow growled.

Usually people ran away when he growled. This moron didn’t even flinch and instead did the stupidest thing possible.

“Grimmjow is gonna touch your body and you’re gonna have to guess where to stop him. Really kinky for a dude who doesn’t want his Gigai flirting with beautiful men,” Goro said.

Oh he was going to kill him. And he was going to enjoy it.

“Sensing and predicting when and where Grimmjow is going to touch me, and stop him before he does. Simple but effective. At least that’s what I’m assuming he meant,” Ichigo replied seriously.

Thank whatever deity existed, the kid had a brain. Unlike the jerk in his body. Grimmjow shot Goro a glare and pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Urahara. “Get your ass back there with the other loser. You’re distracting and in the way,” he ordered.

With a scoff and an upturned nose Goro joined the ex-Soul Reaper, both of them looking grumpy at the current situation. Grimmjow ignored them for the task at hand. He approached Ichigo carefully, placing his feet on firmer ground to avoid disturbing the sand. He didn’t want the ginger cheating, after all. He stopped only a foot away and synced his breathing with the human’s, his breath mixing with Kurosaki’s as they exhaled. He knew he had successfully moved without being detected by the way Ichigo’s eyes searched the air. His eyes were on the right track. They were searching at the right height, but they neglected to focus directly in Grimmjow’s direction.

As he expected, Ichigo began to doubt himself and his gaze started to drift, his head turning to search to his right. An opening. Grimmjow’s hand shot forward and two fingers pressed against the side of his throat. He took a step back as Ichigo whipped around and his hand snatched at the air in an attempt to catch Grimmjow’s wrist. At least his reflexes worked. Slowly, he began to circle around the ginger as his eyes analyzed the boy’s body. His stats were about the same as five years ago, except for his height and weight increasing. He held the same stance he had when they had fought. Tense, proud, and ready for any trouble that faced him. He would have thought of his bravery and confidence as heroic or respectable, if it weren’t useless. There was no point in having any of those qualities if he couldn’t back it up. Those types of attributes killed the weak and powerless. The ginger needed to be reminded how serious the situation was.

Just as Grimmjow prepared to land another touch to Ichigo’s shoulder, the ginger’s hand suddenly shot forward and caught the air right beside Grimmjow’s head. The Arrancar’s eyes widened in surprise. That had been close. Crazy close. Just an inch more to the left and Kurosaki would have been able to touch his hair. Was the boy already able to sense where he was? This quickly?

Ichigo frowned and tsked as he withdrew his hand and started peering through narrowed eyes. Had he just guessed? Luck? Pure instinct?

Grimmjow kept his questions to himself as he circled around Ichigo again, but this time in the other direction. His defense was sh*t and his guard was full of holes, but something told Grimmjow that touching the boy again wasn’t going to be as easy as the first time. He came to a stop. The hardest spot for Ichigo to protect was his back and he had plenty of opportunity to take advantage. He took hold of the loose end of the hair string that bound orange hair into a bun and pulled. A hand lashed out and Grimmjow jumped aside as the hand grabbed at the air where his wrist had just been. Ichigo grumbled to himself again and pulled the headband off then tossed it away, allowing all of his wild orange hair to stand in gravity defying positions. Grimmjow smirked to himself. This was getting good.

The Arrancar moved to stand beside the boy and stretched out his arm to tug on the bangs between Ichigo’s eyes.

“Ow! Hey man, that’s not fair,” Ichigo pouted as he rubbed the tender spot on his head.

“I’m not trying to be fair,” Grimmjow scoffed. As if the ginger could hear him.

While Grimmjow continued to touch various places on the ginger’s body he became aware of two things. First, the boy’s sides were oddly sensitive. One poke had him shivering and squirming like a child. Second, the kid had wickedly smooth skin. Sure, his scars were bumpy and a few were nothing more than large carved out chunks of flesh, but overall the skin was still oddly smooth. It made Grimmjow a little jealous. Not that he wanted soft skin or even cared to have it, he just found it annoying that Kurosaki’s scars were still beautiful and made him look good, while he had this embarrassing and gnarly looking strip of burned flesh across his torso. And his thigh. And his wrists.

He couldn’t be too upset about it. Or at least he wouldn’t allow himself to be upset about it. He earned this scar.

Grimmjow shook the thought from his mind and forced himself to stay focused. Just in time, too. A sunkissed hand burst forward, fingertips inches away from touching Grimmjow’s face. Instinct took over and Grimmjow jumped aside just as Ichigo snatched the air where he had currently been standing. Five years and this kid was still weird as f*ck. Grimmjow had never seen someone develop so quickly. Kurosaki had made him use Sonído for f*ck’s sake. Maybe Urahara had been right about only needing two hours.

“Alright then. Time to kick this up a notch,” Grimmjow murmured.

He moved back into place and watched Ichigo carefully. The boy wasn’t as tense as before. Confidence oozed from the ginger but he wasn’t co*cky, still wary enough to keep his defenses up. Speaking of which, his defense wasn’t so haphazard as it had been in the beginning. It was stronger and far less easy to intrude on. All good signs. Grimmjow lifted his gaze to Ichigo’s eyes and his heart stuttered. Those cinnamon brown eyes drenched in honey stared straight into his. Almost as if Ichigo were looking right at him. Curious, Grimmjow took a few steps to the left. Ichigo’s gaze never broke from his.

Grimmjow’s heart stammered once again as a massive grin split his face in two. He now understood why Gin used to say Kurosaki was scary. His development was insanely fast and his perception dangerously accurate. Anyone would feel threatened if they faced against someone with such a gift. Grimmjow, on the other hand, couldn’t be happier about it.

Grimmjow shot forward with the aid of a Sonído. His smile tripled as Ichigo’s eyes widened when he appeared inches away. Muscles coiled tightly. Fingers clenched into a large fist. Grimmjow snarled and swung his arm forward. Ichigo’s eyes grew larger, but before Grimmjow could make contact the ginger jerked out of the way, his fist gliding past the human’s cheek.

He wasn’t even giving it his all. The punch wouldn’t have been devastating if it had made contact. It only held strength the average human contained. Despite all of that Grimmjow couldn’t stop the booming laughter that erupted from his lips.

“That’s it, Kurosaki! Do it again!” Grimmjow demanded.

He swung his left fist and the ginger dodged again. Adrenaline bubbled in the Arrancar’s veins as he continued to attack. With every punch thrown and every punch dodged he grew more and more excited until the smile on his face stretched so wide the skin ached. He wasn’t the only one smiling either. It took much longer for his smile to appear, but gradually a smirk appeared across Ichigo’s lips. Even his eyes shimmered with absolute glee. It wasn’t a battle to the death, but it was a fight nonetheless.

Soon, dodging was no longer the ginger’s main means of escaping. Once he became grounded the human started blocking blows. Deflecting each attack before he could be harmed. Then Ichigo started throwing punches of his own. Grimmjow evaded each punch with ease. Even if Ichigo did land a punch it wouldn’t hurt because of his Hierro skin, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of this.

Then it happened.

A punch intended for Ichigo’s cheek was caught by the ginger’s steady hand. Long fingers clamped down on Grimmjow’s wrist like a beast's heavy jaw, holding his arm still as he threw an attack of his own.

Kurosaki’s fist collided with Grimmjow’s jaw. The proud twinkle in the human’s eyes bleeding down to his broad smile.

It didn’t hurt at all. The force only caused his head to turn a little. Despite that Grimmjow couldn’t help but mirror the human’s grin.

“Atta boy, Kurosaki. Good job,” Grimmjow purred.

Chapter 19: Breathing in the Past

Chapter Text

Uneven gasps fill the air like broken and incomplete music. The painful noise grated on Grimmjow’s ears, but he said nothing to stop it. Ichigo had regained a small amount of spiritual pressure, but it hadn’t been enough to make his Soul form bearable. A raspy cough fell from the boy’s lips as his teeth clenched. His Chain of Fate rested in his hand as he tugged at the metal plate jutting from his chest. He knew pulling it wouldn’t make it any easier to breathe, but instinct was currently ruling his actions.

Grimmjow sighed as he forced himself to be patient. He smacked the ginger’s hand away. “Stop playing with it and stop thinking about it. S’only gonna make it harder on you,” Grimmjow ordered.

When Ichigo’s gaze didn’t shift from the chain Grimmjow rolled his eyes. The kid was such a piece of work. His fingers took hold of the boy’s chin and forced his head up. Redirecting Kurosaki’s focus to the Arrancar.

“Look at me. The longer you think about that chain the longer yer gonna be trapped in your body. Think about something else,” Grimmjow said.

Ichigo’s brown eyes were steady, but lost. “I...I dunno what to think about. It’s hard to think about anything else. It’s...so hard to breathe,” Ichigo said, nose wrinkling as he winced.

The boy’s fingers twitched to grab the chain, but Grimmjow held his wrist and tilted his head back further, ensuring that the ginger was looking at him. “Then ask me questions. I know you have some that you’ve never asked,” Grimmjow replied and released the human’s chin.

Long lashes brushed freckled cheeks as Kurosaki blinked. His lost irises slowly solidified as he grounded himself with questions he intended to ask.

“How long were you trapped to your body? When you died.”

It was Grimmjow’s turn to blink. He always expected the ginger to ask him questions that could offer up weaknesses, but instead he asked questions with rather intimate and useless answers. It was odd.

“Dunno. Don’t remember much about being a Soul. I remember waiting a lot, I don’t know why or who for, but I remember it. Guess whatever I was waiting for didn’t come, so I changed,” he answered.

Grimmjow’s eyes watched as Ichigo’s chest expanded and deflated at a rapid rate. He was breathing as if they were locked in a brutal battle. He had hoped that after gaining a little spiritual pressure he wouldn’t have such a hard time in his Soul form. Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Were you ever afraid?”

The question caught Grimmjow off guard. He gave the ginger a weird look. “Of what?”

His deep brown eyes were sincere. He really did want to know. “Being eaten by a Hollow. Never reaching the Soul Society. Being...forgotten by your family,” he listed, his voice softening toward the end.

Even if they were useless questions, they were the hardest ones to answer. Most of his memories of being a Soul had been overshadowed by his days as a Hollow. Memories of humanity became lost when one turns into a monster.

“Not much I can say. Don’t remember a lot about being a Soul. Also, I really don’t have memories of being afraid. All I can remember feeling was...hatred towards Soul Reapers.”

Ichigo’s breath hitched. Grimmjow noticed, but said nothing as he continued.

“I only remember fragments...but that’s more than enough to put the pieces together. I remember being hunted by Hollows. I watched other Souls get crushed between their teeth, felt their blood spray onto my skin and soak my clothes, heard their screams. Soul Reapers never came to save us. I never knew what they even were, but many Hollows taunted Souls for their absence, as if they were our beloved gods that didn’t heed our prayers.”

The boy had stopped breathing. He should have been concerned, but he had become too engrossed in his own story to care.

“After I became a Hollow that hate only grew. Suddenly, Soul Reapers cared for Souls. They tried to kill me, treating me as if I was a monster when it was their fault I became a Hollow. I despised them. I hated the Souls they protected too. I never understood why those Souls were worth saving but I never was. With each Hollow I devoured I only came to hate them more and more as their memories became mine. All they wanted to do to Hollows was kill them. It’s like they had forgotten that we were once humans, that we deserved saving. We became a symbol of evil, when in reality we were victims—.”

A warm hand caressed his cheek. The bitter words died on Grimmjow’s tongue as honey brown eyes stared up at him in earnest.

“I’m sorry, Grimmjow,” Ichigo murmured.

The heat radiating from Ichigo’s hand became scolding hot as Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. He slapped Ichigo’s hand away and released his wrist with a sour shove. “Don’t act as if you’re any different.”

“I’m not. I know I thought that way before. That’s why I’m apologizing,” Ichigo admitted.

He wanted to call Kurosaki a liar...but he wasn’t. His eyes were open and honest. His brows weighed in a sorrowful arch. The corners of his mouth tilted downward in concern, the pink lips parting as if Ichigo was to apologize again. His hand lifted to touch Grimmjow’s cheek once more. What was wrong with this human? Shouldn’t he be defending Soul Reapers? Shouldn’t he be angry that a Hollow just called everyone he cared about monsters? That he called him a monster? Why did Ichigo even care about what he went through?

A frustrated scowl marred Grimmjow’s face as he stepped away from Ichigo’s reach. “Training’s over for today. Get back in your body before you suffocate. I’m usin’ the shower,” Grimmjow ordered.

He refused to meet the human’s eyes as he turned away. Leaving Ichigo alone on the massive bed with his still body at his feet.

~***~

He should be sleeping. Even if he slept in late like he usually did, at this rate Grimmjow would still be exhausted. He knew this, but for some reason he couldn’t close his eyes long enough to look away. This was one of the few nights Ichigo slept without the disturbance of a nightmare. It was honestly weird to see the boy so peaceful. All of his daily stress had drained from his face, leaving behind smooth skin and features most models would kill for. He was even drooling a little bit.

Ichigo deserved the rest. The ginger had been working hard to balance school, his job, and training. Not to mention he was now cooking for two and had to share everything he owned with Grimmjow, of all people. It was a stressful situation to be in. He was surprised the kid hadn’t snapped already.

“Don’t act as if you’re any different.”

“I’m not. I know I thought that way before. That’s why I’m apologizing.”

What kind of Soul Reaper admits to being cruel and even apologizes for it? Hell, what human would even apologize to a Hollow? It was ridiculous. Unnecessary. Unrequested. Yet...the ginger did it anyways. He hadn’t seemed pressured or obligated. Ichigo just...wanted to repent.

Why would he care?

Grimmjow’s wrist burned as a memory arose. Ichigo was the same five years ago. The ginger had delivered the final blow. A devastating stab to the Arrancar’s gut that pierced through his body and turned him into nothing more than a hunk of meat skewered by Zangetsu. Any normal enemy would let their kill crumble into a heap of torn flesh and blood soaked bone. Grimmjow would have done that to Kurosaki without a second thought. For some reason the human was different. He didn’t let him fall. When gravity took hold of his aching body and gradually peeled him free from Ichigo’s sword, Grimmjow expected to disappear into the vast white sand below. Instead, warm fingers encased his wrist, halting his descent, and gently lowered his body onto the sand. It was an act of kindness Grimmjow had never understood. He was a Hollow. He was the enemy. Why would Ichigo care? Soul Reapers never gave two sh*ts about Hollows. Judge, kill, and move on. That’s how Soul Reapers worked. The mercy, concern, and kindness of a Soul Reaper were not for Hollows. Hollows were garbage in their eyes. A dark mark upon the world that was to be scorned and removed. They save humans. They save Souls. They never saved Hollows. They never saved him.

Ichigo had.

Grimmjow’s eyes stared at the sleeping boy. Ichigo had saved him more than once. Refusing to kill him in their fight. Protecting him from Nnoitra. And if the Arrancar were to be honest with himself, the ginger had a hand in keeping him alive after he lost his Fracción and his arm. Even if the ginger hadn’t meant to.

If Ichigo had been a Soul Reaper when he was a Soul...maybe things would be different. Maybe the boy would have reached him in time. Kurosaki could have saved him from becoming a Hollow. Maybe Grimmjow could have made it to the Soul Society. Hell, it was likely Grimmjow would have become a Soul Reaper, too. He and Kurosaki could have been comrades instead of enemies. Maybe even more.

His heart emitted a dull pulse. The Arrancar snorted at his own thinking. With an angry huff he turned his back on the boy and clung tightly to the pillow under his head.

Becoming a Soul Reaper? Being Kurosaki’s ally? His friend? What a f*cking stupid and ridiculous thought.

Chapter 20: Kidnapped Katana

Chapter Text

Fingers traced along Ichigo’s jaw, the gentle touch urging him to tilt his head back and expose his throat to hungry blue eyes. Pink consumed the ginger’s cheeks and heated the tips of his ears as nails softly grazed his sensitive skin. Sky blue eyes twinkled as sharp teeth were exposed by a large smile.

“You look ravishing today, Ichigo. If there weren’t so many people present I’d show you just how delectable you are,” the man purred.

The blush darkened into a deep crimson as cinnamon brown eyes resisted meeting his salivating blue gaze. However the smile on his lips never faltered. “You talk smooth for an old man,” Ichigo murmured.

A blue brow lifted, yet his smile only grew. “Don’t talk back to your elders,” he taunted.

Laughter bubbled from Ichigo’s throat and soon the man followed suit, even as the ginger playfully pushed his shoulder. At this point Grimmjow had given up on controlling Goro’s flirtatious habit. It cost more energy than he was willing to spare to stop the dumbass from making himself look like a fool. Besides, everyone here knew he wasn’t the one flirting with Kurosaki and that’s what was important.

Although, the way Kurosaki responded to the blatant flirting was...strange. The blushing. The giggling. The careful punches and slaps. It looked like the ginger enjoyed Goro‘s advances. Grimmjow wouldn’t have given a sh*t about whether or not Ichigo liked Goro, if the blasted pill hadn’t been wearing his face. Was Kurosaki reacting to Goro and his words, or to the Arrancar’s features?

Grimmjow snorted and resisted the urge to slap himself. Boredom was apparently sucking the intelligence right out of his skull day by day. As if Kurosaki would be into the Arrancar. He shouldn’t be. The mask on his face existed to strike fear into beating hearts, not cause those hearts to stutter and clog with feelings of love.

“I-I didn’t mean that you look displeasing with the mask. I just meant you look different. I think I, ah, actually like you with your mask better.”

His fingers thoughtlessly traced the sharp edges and smooth curves of the teeth jutting from his cheek. Seconds later Grimmjow tore his hand away from his mask in disgust. He couldn’t believe he let the brat get to him so easily. He couldn’t believe that he would remember the kid spewing that crap. It was a waste of neurons.

Muffled snickers grated on Grimmjow’s nerves and his eyes moved to burn holes in Goro’s smiling face. His arm was draped over the ginger’s shoulders as if they were old pals, but his lips—Grimmjow’s lips—brushed Kurosaki’s ear as if they were lovers. If he had a stomach it would be doing somersaults.

“Not a fan of the Kaizō Konpaku I gave you, Mr. Arrancar?”

Just what he needed. His eyes moved from Annoyance Number One to Annoyance Number Two. Although, if he really thought about it, Kisuke Urahara was easily the god of annoyances.

“I don’t like anything that involves you,” Grimmjow replied honestly, then shrugged, “But I’m surprised you would take such a risk just to bother me.”

The smug gleam in Urahara’s eyes flickered. “Risk? Is that a threat, Mr. Arrancar?”

“I don’t make threats, I take action. If I wanted to do something to you, I would do it. Threats are for people who hope to scare their enemy away before a battle occurs,” Grimmjow scoffed.

“What are you getting at, Arrancar?” Kisuke demanded.

Grimmjow allowed a smug grin to tug at his lips. “You wanted to bother me so badly that you gave me the most obscene and perverted dick of a Kaizō Konpaku, and you didn’t even consider Kurosaki’s safety. Let’s do some simple math. We have an attractive and available Gigai, a horny Kaizō Konpaku, and a convenient and blatantly beautiful human located all in one apartment. Gee, I wonder what the f*ck will happen,” Grimmjow said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

It was immensely satisfying to watch the man’s face bleed into an unhealthy pale hue. It was even more fun to see his eyes grow large with horror at his own actions.

With a petty chuckle Grimmjow harshly slapped a hand to Urahara’s back and smiled. “For someone who boasts about his intellect being greater than mine, you really don’t think sh*t through.”

Before the ex-Soul Reaper could retort Grimmjow turned his back to the man and shifted his attention to the task at hand.

“Move it or lose an arm,” Grimmjow ordered.

Goro’s glare was amusing. The look of bitter resentment even better. Grimmjow hoped the Kaizō Konpaku would fight back. Just a few spitting words would be enough to cause an all out war. Even if the thing did have his face, he wouldn’t hesitate to behead the annoyance. Goro looked as if he was going to argue, resist, but a gentle pat to his back drained the urge to fight from his body.

“Don’t say anything. I know you want to fight, but Grimmjow and I need to train,” Ichigo murmured.

To his bitter disappointment, Goro released Ichigo without argument and slunk away with a heavy grumble buzzing from his lips as he continued to shoot daggers in the Arrancar’s direction. Grimmjow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Flirting with Kurosaki aside, the Kaizō Konpaku was a child. Or an obsessive and jealous friend with a secret crush on the ginger or some other dramatic human bullsh*t Grimmjow found plastered on every damn channel on the television. Humans are so basic. All they gave a f*ck about was romance and sex. At least most of them did. Sex he understood to a certain degree, but even then it was ridiculous to be obsessed with it. Romance on the other hand was completely worthless. A distraction from reality. A compulsive need to be attached to another living creature so as to not risk lonely solitude. Humans needed to learn how to nut up and die alone.

Grimmjow’s thumb stroked the guard of his sword as he studied the ginger before him. He hoped Kurosaki would never succumb to such useless notions. He already spread himself thin amongst his friends and comrades. A lover would be troublesome. Grimmjow could only imagine how protective the human would be towards someone like that. Kurosaki would get himself killed before Grimmjow could ever cross blades with him. The pad of his thumb pressed under the guard and exposed a sliver of his sword to the air. Then he’d just have to kill whatever caused Kurosaki’s downfall.

“Grimmjow, what are you doing?” Urahara asked slowly, his voice soaked in a dark warning.

The Arrancar ignored his words as he pulled Pantera free from its sheath. His own power pulsed in the palm of his hand in an eager purr. It had been far too long since he held his blade. Even longer from the last time he used it. Hopefully Kurosaki could knock off the rust. His gaze hardened. Once again there wasn’t any fear in Kurosaki’s eyes. Either the boy was looking down at him and didn’t view him as a threat, which Grimmjow doubted. Or it could be that Kurosaki was willing to sacrifice his life for his powers. That was very likely. His hand held Pantera steadily as he raised the sword high above his head. The sharp edge twinkled under the artificial light and cast a shadow over the ginger, splitting his image in two.

“Grimmjow, don’t you dare—!”

Urahara’s warning was dismissed as the Arrancar brought down his sword with fierce strength. The blade was seconds away from slicing into the human’s sunkissed skin when the exposed shoulder vanished and the tip of Pantera sank deep into the rocky earth below their feet. As the dust began to settle, Grimmjow couldn’t help but grin. Kurosaki had dodged it perfectly.

“He evaded the attack?” Goro said in soft wonder.

A broad, co*cky smile stretched across Ichigo’s lips and caused Grimmjow’s body to sing. Without hesitation he withdrew Pantera and swung again. Urahara and Goro held their breath in fear of Ichigo’s safety, but their concern wasn’t needed. Kurosaki escaped the attack with ease and even shot Grimmjow a teasing smirk.

“C’mon, Grimmjow, you haven’t gotten that slow have you?” Ichigo mocked.

A harsh snicker rolled through Grimmjow’s throat. What a manipulative little bastard Kurosaki was.

“Don’t get too co*cky, dick,” he replied, even though Ichigo couldn’t hear.

With another thrust of his blade their spar continued. When Grimmjow took a step forward, Kurosaki took a step back. When he swung Pantera with the intent to slice sunkissed skin, he instead ended up carving stone. Their movements matched perfectly. To an outsider it would seem as if they had practiced the same routine over and over again. As if it were a dance. Grimmjow found himself unable to describe it as anything else. The human moved with so much fluidity in his limbs it seemed like he was made of water. His body swaying from side to side. Spinning to avoid a fatal wound. His feet placed in careful and planned points on the ground. His body bending in positions Grimmjow had thought only he was able to manage. Each muscle was controlled with such precision it seemed impossible to reach Kurosaki with his sword.

That is, until his blade tore through the side of Kurosaki’s cheek.

A jab beside Kurosaki’s head, an attack that he thought would be easy to evade. Apparently he was wrong. Grimmjow’s body froze at the sight of blood spilling from the cleanly sliced wound upon his cheek. The cut wasn’t deep, but the Arrancar had felt the tip of Pantera rip through resistant skin and the feeling alone caused his arm to grow numb. Had he misjudged Kurosaki’s ability? The boy had been dodging everything perfectly before. Why not now? Should he dial it back?

A co*cky smirk twisted Kurosaki’s lips and Grimmjow’s thoughts faltered. Why was he grinning like that?

With astonishing speed the ginger ensnared his wrist with a strong hand as long fingers tightened on his arm like hungry snakes. Caught off guard, Grimmjow did nothing as he was yanked forward with a vicious tug. Too dumbfounded to think the Arrancar found himself holding his breath as Ichigo’s face drew dangerously close. He could count every freckle again, if he wanted to, but oddly enough he found his blue eyes drawn to a set of pink lips. They were getting close. Too close for comfort. Just as it seemed their lips were going to touch, Kurosaki tilted his head at the perfect angle to bash his head against Grimmjow’s in a jarring headbutt.

A shocked snarl tore through Grimmjow’s chest as his teeth rattled from the attack. His grip weakened on Pantera and suddenly his sword was freed from his hand and thrown aside. Grimmjow wasn’t given enough time to react to the disgraceful treatment of his zanpakutō when a fist slammed into his cheek at full force. It didn’t hurt. Not one bit. Yet the power behind his attack was enough to turn Grimmjow’s head, and the attack carried a familiar scent of spiritual pressure. Kurosaki’s spiritual pressure. His body reacted instantly to the long lost but familiar scent. Adrenaline shook him to his very core as a wicked smile split his face in two. Blue flames of battle lust burned in his light blue eyes as his body shuddered with a thrill he hadn’t felt in five years. Kurosaki was smiling too. The same look of bloodlust glowed in his brown eyes and suddenly Grimmjow understood how humans felt when they were intoxicated.

“Don’t you dare back down, Kurosaki. This only just started to get fun!” Grimmjow bellowed with an unrestrained laugh.

He freed his wrist from the boy’s grasp and threw a punch of his own, his body singing when Ichigo dodged it with ease as that smile continued to grow. He wasn’t using even a quarter of his strength. He was hardly using any speed at all. Yet a thrill he hadn’t felt in years coursed through his veins and his face ached from the strain of his smile. It was nowhere near a battle to the death, but that didn’t matter. It was a fight against Kurosaki.

Kurosaki’s touch ignited an intense fire over his skin when he blocked every punch he threw. When the boy retaliated with a punch of his own and made contact, the fire swallowed Grimmjow’s body with a vicious roar. Kurosaki had been taught some form of hand to hand combat and was incredibly skilled at it. Grimmjow had never once seen the boy use that skill in battle and it made the Arrancar feel cheated. When the occasion to fight Kurosaki arrives, to truly battle against him, he was going to demand for the human to go all out. He wanted to feel every drop of the ginger’s power thrown against him, and he wanted to crush every bit of it with his own hands.

Having become distracted by his own thoughts he barely registered when Kurosaki dropped from his view. Not until a leg swept under his and knocked him hard onto his back. Grimmjow cursed and moved to push himself up when a hand took hold of his shirt and slammed him back onto the ground. Shadows consumed Grimmjow as a heavy weight sat upon his hips and pinned the Arrancar in place, the hand on his chest pressing down with an alarming amount of strength. Before Grimmjow could utter a single word a shimmering sword appeared between his eyes, just a mere centimeter away from piercing his skin. Light refracted from the smooth blade and made it seem as if the sword were engulfed in golden flames, but even through the glare he could see the hilt and the mighty spiritual pressure oozing from the sharp edge. Pantera. He hadn’t even seen Kurosaki pick him up.

Heat coiled tightly in his belly as his blue eyes lifted to Kurosaki’s face. A confident and proud smile branded the ginger’s lips even as heavy gasps wheezed from his lungs. Even though his whole body shook with his struggled breath, his hands were steady and Pantera never wavered in his grasp. As if Pantera belonged in his hands. Sweat poured down Ichigo’s face. A single drop gathered on Ichigo’s nose then broke free and fell onto Pantera. The drop traveled along the sleek blade before pooling at the very tip and plunged onto Grimmjow’s skin. The Arrancar gulped, although he didn’t know why. He forced his eyes past the ginger’s smile to stare at his eyes. The gold in Kurosaki’s irises glowed and the honey brown smoldered like hot coals—bursting with pride, thrill, and a lust for violence. Violence against Grimmjow. The heat in his belly morphed into a raging fire and pushed up goosebumps all over his body.

A massive grin overtook Grimmjow’s face as he tried with all his might to stomp the fire out, “Good job, Kurosaki.”

The human’s smile was blinding.

Chapter 21: Mamihlapinatapai

Chapter Text

“I haven’t had a fight like that in so long. I mean, I know you weren’t even trying and you could’ve killed me if you wanted to, but it was still such a rush. Humans can’t fight like you can. And to have a sword in my hand...I never thought I would get to feel that again. It was just...amazing.”

Kurosaki had been gushing about their fight for hours. He acted normal around Urahara and Goro, but the moment they were alone in the car Ichigo had completely lost his cool. Grimmjow would never admit to jumping at the unexpected sound of Ichigo’s squealing, and Kurosaki would never admit to emitting such a noise, so neither had to admit anything. However it was hard to ignore the lift in Kurosaki’s spirits. It was incredibly infectious. Grimmjow swears he almost felt the inklings of a smile on his own lips. Almost.

“You probably didn’t enjoy it as much as I did,” Ichigo chuckled.

Grimmjow’s hands paused in bandaging Kurosaki’s bruised, battered, and bloody knuckles. He almost looked into the ginger’s eyes, but held himself back as he continued to dress the human’s injured hands. He wanted to tell Kurosaki he was wrong. He did enjoy it. Immensely. He swallowed every word. There was no reason for him to tell the human how he really felt about their training. He wasn’t here to console or encourage him.

He finished wrapping the bandages on Ichigo’s right hand and gestured for access of the other. Ichigo obeyed and placed his hand in Grimmjow’s grasp without question. He didn’t even flinch when the Arrancar poured alcohol onto his torn skin. Kurosaki was far too trusting. It would be so easy to snap his wrist or blind him with the alcohol. Grimmjow would never allow someone to do this for him. Not unless he was unconscious or they were much, much weaker than him. He couldn’t understand why the brat trusted him to this extent. Grimmjow carefully blotted the alcohol and blood from the boy’s skin. He knew that Ichigo threw every punch with all the strength he had, but during the fight Grimmjow hadn’t noticed how his Hierro skin had mangled the kid’s hand. He was honestly surprised there weren’t any broken bones. Grimmjow spared a quick glance at Ichigo’s face. Maybe it wasn’t trust. Kurosaki was incredibly intuitive, and even claimed that when he crossed blades with someone he could feel their heart, their reason for fighting. Their intent. Maybe it was never trust. Kurosaki was fully aware of what the Arrancar could do to him. Grimmjow could snap his wrist, blind him, make him bleed...but they both knew he wouldn’t. Not yet.

“I heard your voice at the end of our fight. It was a bit garbled, kinda like something was in my ears, but I heard you,” Ichigo murmured softly.

This was news to Grimmjow, but he said nothing. The boy’s advancement rate was astonishing, but expected. He wouldn’t be surprised if by next week the ginger could see spiritual beings. A pleased shiver teased his spine at the thought. Kurosaki would be able to see the real him. He wouldn’t be able to ignore him anymore. Maybe he could ditch the meat suit along with all of the weird feelings that came with it.

Fingers combed carefully through wild wavy blue locks and Grimmjow stilled. His eyes lifted to meet Ichigo’s, his breath trapped in his lungs. He had never seen the boy’s eyes look so soft before. In fact, everything about the boy looked tender and—shockingly enough—relaxed. Ichigo’s fingers brushed the skin just above his ear and Grimmjow became tense. He was glad he already wasn’t breathing. Otherwise the boy would have heard his breath hitch. Or worse, maybe even a moan.

Suddenly the hand withdrew and a dopey smile spread across Ichigo’s bashful face. “Sorry. Your hair just always stays in that style and I’ve never seen you use gel or anything so I was trying to figure out how it stayed...wild,” Ichigo’s eyes drop the the floor, pushing his luck by murmuring, “It’s soft.”

When the Arrancar said nothing in reply the ginger became anxious. His worried eyes were torn between staring at the floor and gazing into Grimmjow’s eyes, gauging his reaction. Waiting for the Arrancar to grow angry and break something. Most likely his face.

Normally he would. Grimmjow didn’t appreciate people who invaded his personal space unless he allowed them to. He never told Ichigo that he could get close to him, much less touch him, but Grimmjow couldn’t find it in himself to get angry. He knew the kid had a thing for wanting to be close to others, and he also knew that Ichigo’s kindness wasn’t a sticky trap meant to bite him in the ass later. He didn’t have a vile bone in his body. Probably the only person to ever exist to be that way. It was extremely weird and twisted, but Ichigo was one of the few Grimmjow could actually trust. Kurosaki’s honor, sense of duty, and selflessness irritated the f*ck out of him, but he wasn’t the type to pull a trick or cheat. So he trusted him, in his own strange way.

With a slight upturn of the corners of Grimmjow’s mouth he raised a hand and took hold of the bangs between Ichigo’s eyes and gave them a soft tug. “The same way your hair stays obnoxiously spiky and orange,” he replied.

The shock on Ichigo’s face lasted only a moment before it was replaced with a sincere smile and honest snicker. Grimmjow felt a tiny little smile start to form on his lips, but it wilted away the moment he saw the pink blush glowing on Ichigo’s cheeks.

The smiling. The giggling. The blushing. It was just like when Goro flirted with Kurosaki. This time Goro wasn’t there. Was Ichigo responding to the face...or the person?

Grimmjow dropped his eyes down to Kurosaki’s half bandaged hand and continued his work. He had hoped it would push the thoughts away, but the questions kept nagging at his mind. By the time he had finished pressing the gauze in place his questions had only grown louder in his head, but they weren’t directed solely at Kurosaki.

He had finished bandaging Ichigo’s hand, but why was he still holding it?

Why didn’t the ginger pull away?

How the f*ck could someone have skin that warm?

Ichigo’s knees bumped against Grimmjow’s and time seemed to freeze. He lifted his eyes once again and realized how close they were. Just a breath away from one another. Why did this keep happening?

A small smile lifted Ichigo’s lips as his eyes grew soft once again, and somehow their beauty was enhanced by peering through long, thick lashes. “Thank you, Grimmjow. For everything you’ve done. For helping me.”

The atmosphere was heavy.

It was nearly suffocating.

Grimmjow swallowed dryly before turning his eyes away. He pulled his hands free and stood up abruptly. Words squeezed through his throat and filled his mouth, but they died on his shy tongue. Without saying anything in reply he disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door, leaving Ichigo alone and answerless on the couch.

Grimmjow leaned against the bathroom door with his brows knitted tightly together. His eyes roamed to his arms and stared at the bandaids that littered his skin. Kurosaki had changed them for him a few times. He could have done it himself...but he never did. Kurosaki wouldn’t let him, and Grimmjow never argued against it. His thumb traced the bandaid placed over his pulse, noticing that this set was a soft orange. It reminded him of Ichigo’s hair early in the morning, when the strands were caught in a beam of sunlight.

The Arrancar frowned.

He peeled up a corner of the bandage with the edge of his nail and ripped it off with a violent jerk.

One by one he tore the bandages from his skin, ignoring how the adhesive stung and bit in response, resisting separation.

One by one they fell to the cold bathroom floor.

One by one his wounds were laid bare and unprotected.

Chapter 22: Discovered History

Chapter Text

They hadn’t talked for a few days after that incident. It’s not that they were avoiding each other or that things had grown awkward between them. Education and work consumed most of Kurosaki’s time so even if he was home, he was too exhausted to hold a conversation or too busy studying to speak more than five words. It didn’t bother Grimmjow. He didn’t have anything to say. There wasn’t really any point in talking to one another. The only complaint Grimmjow had was how bored he was without the ginger around.

Blue eyes glanced at the screen of his phone. No new messages. With a huff Grimmjow shut off the screen and tossed it aside. In addition to clothes, that Quincy had insisted on purchasing Grimmjow a cellphone. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the human only wanted to keep tabs on him. He wouldn’t doubt that there was a way to track him with that device, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t leave the apartment and even if he did it would be with Ichigo. Despite the intention of the device, Grimmjow still used it to text Kurosaki, but the boy was so busy he was only able to reply in short messages. At this point he really didn’t bother texting him. He didn’t enjoy small talk.

With nothing left to occupy his time he was reduced to snooping through Kurosaki’s things as means of entertainment. Although the entertainment was fairly dull since the ginger didn’t seem to hide anything. He already knew of his love of music and had seen the vast amounts of CDs and records that stacked high throughout his apartment. He was fully aware of the vast collection of literature the boy had filled bookcase after bookcase with. He saw the textbooks. Saw his clothes. Could list everything in Ichigo’s medicine cabinet. Knew the names of every cleaning item under the sink and where everything was in the fridge. All he really could do was physically go through his things. Like read his books or watch his movies or look through his photo albums—

Grimmjow’s eyes paused on the thick leather bound binder. It might prove to be amusing. He might even recognize a few faces. With a lazy grunt he pushed himself off the couch and pulled the binder from the bookcase and plopped down onto a patch of carpet beside it. He hadn’t known what to expect when he pulled back the cover, but a picture of Kurosaki as a fat baby lying butt naked in a tub wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t lie, though, it did make him snicker and he may have smiled just a bit. If it weren’t for the huge brown eyes Grimmjow wouldn’t have known who it was because that baby was as bald as bald gets.

“That’s embarrassing,” Grimmjow snorted. He could imagine the blush on the ginger’s face if he saw the Arrancar going through his photos. The kid would be mortified.

To be honest, that only made him want to see more.

He was right about recognizing faces. Isshin Kurosaki was easy to spot. He looked a lot like Ichigo, or rather Ichigo looked a lot like him, but his features were more rugged and angular than his son’s. Karin and Yuzu had been easy to spot too, even as tiny little babies wrapped safely in matching blankets. Their hair was an obvious giveaway. That and the way Ichigo held them in photos (even though he wasn’t that much older than the twins) with a proud smile on his face tipped him off. There were a lot of photos with Ichigo and his siblings. Playing with them. Helping them walk. Teaching them to ice skate. Helping them open their presents before he even touched his own. Watching movies. Celebrating birthdays. Falling asleep in a bundle of limbs on the couch. Ichigo had always loved his sisters. It was strange to see him now. He wouldn’t even call them anymore. Not even to lie about not being able to visit.

Grimmjow pushed the thought aside and turned the page, then stilled. Ichigo looked a lot older in this picture than the last. With brows knitted he turned the page back and forth. He hadn’t skipped anything. Ichigo’s life had been so well documented until this point. Why? Grimmjow studied the new picture carefully. That goofy smile he had always worn in literally every picture had vanished. Instead he looked serious. He looked far older than he should have for a kid so young. Confused, Grimmjow began flipping through more and more pages. Eventually the quality documentation from before returned, but Ichigo’s smile never did. In fact, he looked worse in every picture. The scowl grew darker as he became more and more closed off. He was...almost completely separated from his family. It didn’t make sense. He obviously loved his family and they loved him back, so why had it turned out like this?

He stared hard at a photo of Ichigo and his sisters on a picnic. Ichigo looked irritated, but not angry. Karin was indifferent, but with the way Yuzu looked at her it had been obvious that she said something mean and insulting, most likely to their father who must have been holding the camera. Wait. Isshin was holding the camera. That’s it! Grimmjow flipped back to the front of the photo album and searched through the pictures of a tiny Ichigo. Isshin was in almost every photo. Either he was holding Kurosaki or he was in the background. He never once held the camera. Not until Ichigo stopped smiling. Then who was holding the camera before?

He browsed through each picture once more until he came to an image of a very little Ichigo wearing a martial arts uniform, grinning from ear to ear, while holding a woman’s hand. He couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t need to. The long hair that poured over her shoulder was more than enough information to go off of. It was almost exactly like Ichigo’s. Just a shade darker with a little wave in each strand. He had seen that hair before. Saw it on a memorial poster that hung on a wall in the Kurosaki Clinic. A poster with a beautiful, smiling woman with the name Masaki Kurosaki.

Ichigo’s mother. It couldn’t be anyone else.

He glanced down at the innocent smile on Ichigo’s face before tearing his eyes away and shutting the photo album. This was none of his business. It didn’t matter to him why Kurosaki stopped smiling. Knowing that information meant they were familiar with one another. The only thing Grimmjow wanted to be familiar about with Ichigo was his physical weakness so he could exploit them in their future battle. Nothing more. Nothing less. Personal matters were not important.

Even if his curiosity was killing him.

Grimmjow stared at the binder in his hands, then at the other two albums resting on the shelf. With a relenting sigh he pushed the photo album back into place and retrieved the next one in line. The binding on this one was different. The cover was smooth with a simple design stretched over thick cardboard, something cheap but durable. He flipped to the first page. The theme of this album was easily deduce. Every page was filled with images of Ichigo and his friends through the years. Study groups. Extracurricular activities. After school clubs. Sleepovers and birthday parties. Movie marathons, concerts, festivals and holidays. Surrounded by friends and living a life most people would kill to have. He was lucky. Yet, for some reason, he never seemed to smile. Not like he had when he was a kid, anyways. What happened to his mother that made him so...unhappy? Grimmjow understood mourning someone who was dead, but that regret and unhappiness usually faded away into a distant memory. Kurosaki seemed to carry that sorrow on his shoulders every day. Why?

Grimmjow snapped the album closed and moved onto the next binder. This one was very different from the other two. It was rather small and made of durable black fabric with a zipper mending it closed, withholding memories from any searching eyes. This of course led him to believe what laid inside was personal. More so than what had been in the others. With a long tug on the black zipper he pulled back the cover eagerly, and was immediately disappointed. There was only enough room for one picture per sleeve and the first one was of that damn Quincy. Although he was vaguely surprised to see the human smiling. Grimmjow hadn’t known that the human could smile. It was disturbing to see him so...happy and normal. With a snort Grimmjow flipped to the next page and froze. He swore the universe came to a sudden halt and he couldn’t blame it. Ichigo was smiling. Actually smiling. Not only that, he was smiling with Uryū. The ginger’s arm was slung over the Quincy’s shoulders and held him close until their faces were only inches apart, forcing them to share the same breath. They both held beer in their free hand and judging by the condition of the background those beers hadn’t been their first. His eyes flicked to the next photo and his heart stammered. This picture had been taken just seconds after the last one. Ichigo still clutched his beer tightly in his grasp, but his fingertips clawed desperately at Uryū’s shirt in a drunken attempt to pull the boy closer. A sunkissed hand cradled the back of Uryū’s head with long fingers tugging hard on black locks and pushed the Quincy into a deep, passionate kiss. Judging by the look in Uryū’s dark blue eyes he definitely wasn’t hating it. Ichigo looked rather pleased with himself as well. How hammered were they? Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed as he added numbers in his head. How had they gotten their hands on alcohol anyways? By his calculations Ichigo was only just now twenty-one and this photo was pretty old. He could see Kurosaki’s high school jacket hanging off the couch cushions in the background. He turned to the next page and his brows vanished in his hairline. Ichigo’s goofy brunette friend was grinning from ear to ear and obviously wasted judging by how close his face was to the camera, but Grimmjow could still see Ichigo in the background just over the moron’s shoulder. During some point in the night Ichigo had managed to push Uryū onto the couch and decided to take residence in his lap. The two were still locked in a breathless kiss and Grimmjow could practically feel the heat rolling off of them. His eyes spotted Uryū’s hands on Ichigo’s hips and his stomach flipped. Just how smashed was he?

Grimmjow’s ears perked at the quiet sound of feet gradually approaching and a curse spilled from his lips. He hastily zipped the photo album and shoved it back into place before scrambling for the couch. Just as he threw himself down onto the beaten cushions the lock popped and the front door swung open.

A loud sigh rolled from Ichigo’s lips as he stepped into the apartment and kicked the door closed behind him. The maroon apron fastened around his waist was quickly untied and tossed onto the counter after a thick wad of cash was removed from one of many pockets. Scarred hands pulled the tails of his formal black shirt from dark pleated pants and then loosened the white tie around his neck. With ease his thumb pushed three buttons free and a relieved groan spilled from Kurosaki’s lips.

“Ugh. I don’t get paid enough to deal with snobby, rich jerks,” Ichigo mumbled.

Kurosaki didn’t talk about his job much, but Grimmjow had heard the human complain enough to know he was a waiter at some fancy restaurant. Why Kurosaki would have a job like that he didn’t understand. “Why would you even get a job like that?” he scoffed.

Ichigo looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Serving others. Letting them use you to do their bidding and treat you like trash,” Grimmjow settled further into the couch, “You’re literally being paid to treat strangers like kings.”

“It’s not that bad. Some customers are nice. I usually make good tips too,” Ichigo said with a shrug.

“It sounds like indentured servitude, which is one paycheck away from being slavery,” Grimmjow mocked.

A smile brushed over Ichigo’s lips. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

Before the two could have a long awkward moment of eye contact, a cheerful ringtone emitted from Ichigo’s pocket. Brown eyes rolled and the phone was retrieved and answered.

“What do you want, Uryū?”

Grimmjow’s eyes glanced at the small photo album. It was weird. Why would Ichigo hold onto such embarrassing pictures? Considering his rocky relationship with the Quincy, hell, with all of his friends, Grimmjow was surprised that Kurosaki hadn’t just thrown them out.

Then again, Ichigo wasn’t that type of person.

“Yeah. I just got off work. We were swamped today with a sh*t ton if anniversaries. Apparently this is the right month to hook up with someone,” Ichigo laughed.

That was unusual. His chuckle was real. Was he seriously talking to Uryū?

“Nah, I’m just gonna be doing homework. I have to give a speech this upcoming Tuesday. It has to be informative which is boring as f*ck. I’m not looking forward to it.”

Ichigo’s shoulders were relaxed as he began pulling ingredients from the cabinet. A faint smile still touched his lips and his eyes were sparkling. Grimmjow hadn’t noticed it until now, but the bags under his eyes were much smaller than before.

“Huh? Oh, well, no. I don’t have any plans tonight. I was just about to make dinner. Why?”

Ichigo’s hands paused as he listened intently to the Quincy.

“Oh. I mean, I wouldn’t mind going out but then Grimmjow would be left to fend for himself. I’ve only taught him to make ramen and I’m pretty sure he’s getting tired of that.”

He was. Today he had actually skipped lunch because of that exact reason. Besides, he never made it nearly as well as Kurosaki did.

“Uryū, not this again,” Ichigo groaned as his shoulders slumped, “I’m not going to change my mind about Grimmjow, okay? He’s helping me a lot and we’re making great progress. You do remember that I’m not a total wimp, right? I’ve been fighting punks since middle school. Why has everyone forgotten that?”

It was true. Everyone treated Ichigo as if he were a weak little child. He may not be able to hold a sword but Ichigo was far from defenseless.

Ichigo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you worry, Uryū. I get it. If our positions were reversed I’m sure I would be just as protective as you are. I’m not asking you to trust Grimmjow. I wouldn’t expect that from any of you. I’m asking you to trust me. I’m doing what I think is best for myself. You don’t agree, and I get that, but you seriously need to respect my choices. I’m not kidding. It’s irritating to have you and the others ignore my decisions and then force your own onto me. Quite frankly, I’m an adult and you can’t say jack about my life. Bitch and complain all you want but it’s not going to change anything. Grimmjow isn’t going anywhere.”

Grimmjow could only imagine the flabbergasted look on Uryū’s face and smirked to himself. He really wished the Quincy were here so he could get a picture. Add that to Ichigo’s photo album.

With a brief goodbye Ichigo slipped his phone back into his pocket and smirked at Grimmjow, radiating pride and confidence. “How was that? Snarky enough for you?”

“Eh. You should’ve told him where he could stick his concern,” Grimmjow shrugged.

“I felt that those words were implied,” Ichigo laughed.

A pan was set on the stove and more ingredients were taken from the fridge. The kid had to be exhausted. Why hadn’t he agreed to go out? He could have gotten a free meal, and judging by the size of Uryū’s wallet, an expensive one.

“Why didn’t you go out with him?” Grimmjow blurted. Lately, the Arrancar realized it was almost impossible to hold back his questions.

Ichigo glanced over his shoulder and smiled genuinely. “To be honest, I’d rather be here with you.”

His heart stuttered. “That’s pathetic. You’d rather be with your enemy than your friends?”

Kurosaki’s smile morphed into a smug smirk. “Deny it all you want, Jaegerjaquez, but you’re actually excellent company to have.”

Grimmjow felt his heart stammer again. It was a good thing he wasn’t a human or technically living. That erratic heartbeat would be dangerous under normal circ*mstances.

“You’re only saying that because I don’t give a sh*t about what you do,” Grimmjow scoffed.

“That’s true, but it’s not the main reason,” Ichigo replied.

Grimmjow quirked a brow. “And your main reason would be…?”

That teasing smirk grazed Ichigo’s lips once again and Grimmjow swore his heart stopped beating for a good ten seconds.

“Pfft, like I’m gonna give up that information. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually,” Ichigo chirped as he turned back to the stove.

Good thing, too. Once Kurosaki looked away Grimmjow’s face felt uncharacteristically warm. He was praying a sudden illness had infected his Gigai, but he feared it was something much worse.

This was the second time Ichigo had made him blush.

Chapter 23: Decoding a Death God

Chapter Text

You’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually.

What the hell did that mean?

It had been hours since Ichigo said that to him, the clock on the ginger’s nightstand claimed it was well past midnight, and Grimmjow still didn’t understand what he meant. What was there to figure out?

“To be honest, I’d rather be here with you.”

“That’s pathetic. You’d rather be with your enemy than your friends?”

“Deny it all you want, Jaegerjaquez, but you’re actually excellent company to have.”

Grimmjow snorted as he clutched his pillow tightly to his chest. Kurosaki was messed up. Why would he want to spend time with his enemy? No one had ever wanted to be around him before. At least not many. And definitely not a Soul Reaper.

You’re smart.

A burning heat consumed Grimmjow’s face. Why was it so easy for Kurosaki to compliment him? As his enemy, shouldn’t it be impossible for Kurosaki to find anything to compliment him on? His own peers couldn’t even do that. They all had pretty much regarded him as an insolent nuisance and never gave him an ounce of respect. Which they somehow never realized was a two way street, so hell yeah he was insolent.

In his whole lifetime only a handful of people had given him adulation: his Fracción and Aizen. His Fracción he trusted. They were loyal to him. They respected him. He meant something to them so he knew they meant every word they said. Aizen, on the other hand, was a f*cking manipulative bastard who thought he could win Grimmjow over with fabricated flattery. Grimmjow had claimed for years that Aizen was going to stab them in the back. He had known the truth long before he accepted the help of the Hogyoku, but no one ever believed him. He was a fool in the eyes of the Espada. All because Aizen turned him into a joke.

None of that mattered anymore. Aizen was gone. The number on his back held no meaning. Hueco Mundo, his pathetic excuse of a home, was reduced to a wasteland of rubble. But he alone had survived. That’s all that mattered.

Grimmjow’s fingers clawed the pillow in his grasp as his eyes burned holes in the mattress.

Even his own survival meant nothing. No matter how he looked at it, he lost. He wasn’t sure he ever had any true victories. He became stronger. He changed. He devoured and killed and conquered...but all for what? To become an expendable soldier to some ex-Soul Reaper with an ego larger than a Menos Grande? To be sneered and laughed at by Arrancar he would have considered scum on the bottom of his shoe? To be treated like a fool instead of a king? To lead his soldiers to their deaths all because he wanted to eradicate some f*cking human child?

A child that didn’t even give a sh*t about whether he was a Hollow or a Soul Reaper.

A boy who actually gave a f*ck about his existence.

A human who always took him seriously and never questioned his strength...

Grimmjow’s blue eyes turned to Ichigo’s sleeping face. The ginger looked far more content than usual. Kurosaki, when he didn’t have nightmares, had a tendency to sleep on his back with the covers pulled up to his chest and his arms at his sides. He slept stiffer than a board and provided a great imitation of a rock. Hell, the only movement he made was his frighteningly subtle breathing. Grimmjow had no idea how the kid could get any rest like that. He supposed it was better than the brat having those pesky nightmares all the time, but at least when he had bad dreams he seemed alive.

Suddenly, Ichigo inhaled deeply and pushed out his chest, then after a soft beat he released it with a heavy sigh. Kurosaki did that occasionally in his sleep, although Grimmjow never knew why. He never really thought to question it either; he’d become so used to it he didn’t find it out of the ordinary anymore. What was different was how a soft hum vibrated in Ichigo’s throat as his head rolled to face Grimmjow. Kurosaki never turned his head while he slept. Grimmjow’s fingers sank deep into his pillow as he studied the human’s face for any signs of discomfort. His forehead was devoid of stressed lines. His brow relaxed. His lips slightly parted as he snored, his jaw loose. He didn’t seem to be in any kind of pain. It was weird to see Kurosaki move in his sleep for no reason.

The bangs that usually rested between Kurosaki’s eyes grew heavy and fell away to expose his forehead. Grimmjow’s brows furrowed. There was a slim pink scar jutting out from his hairline. That hadn’t been there when they fought, had it? It didn’t look nearly as old as his other scars.

Another sigh with a faint hum spilled from Ichigo’s lips and Grimmjow found himself staring intently at the boy’s face once again.

Kurosaki had changed. Only in a few ways. The main virtues that his personality pivoted on were the same. He was still a selfless hero who wanted to protect everyone and supplied an endless amount of second chances even to the undeserving.

However, there was a big difference in Ichigo from five years ago and the Ichigo now.

Almost every time they crossed swords the boy had been a panicked mess. There was no denying that Kurosaki had skill in battle, but he was young. A child. While he had months of experience under his belt, Grimmjow had years. Grimmjow had known and fully accepted that he was a monster, but Kurosaki feared his Hollow. When they had first met, Ichigo was one popped seam away from falling apart.

Now nothing seemed to faze him. He was composed. He was calm. He didn’t respond with anger. He was patient with others and planned beyond an initial goal. Kurosaki had matured. In Grimmjow’s eyes that growth was for the better. A mature opponent provided a larger challenge than that of a disorganized child. That’s what he wanted, after all. A challenge. Not an easy win.

However, there was a downfall to Kurosaki’s development. His depression had all but destroyed his confidence and pride. The human thought he had hid it well, but even Grimmjow could see how much he was hurting. It was always the little things that exposed him. For instance, the human owned a vast collection of books and DVDs, but never touched them. He was sure the boy’s excuse would run along the lines of always being busy with school or work, but it would be a feeble lie. He wasn’t enjoying the things he used to love. Not to mention his relationship with his friends was sh*t, and that’s coming from a guy who doesn’t have any friends. He wasn’t sure even the human’s friends’ noticed this one: Ichigo refused to look at his own reflection. In the morning his brown eyes were always fixed on the bathroom sink as he brushed his teeth or dried his hair. The full length mirror that stood, gathering dust, in the corner of the bedroom was angled in such a way that Kurosaki wouldn’t chance catching a glimpse of himself. Making the mirror completely useless and a waste of space.

Then there were the nightmares.

Grimmjow didn’t ask for the details, but he knew that Ichigo dreamt of the gruesome fate his friends were granted to face without his protection. Of course the human’s bleeding heart also ached and mourned over those he had a hand in killing. Grimmjow never understood that part. However, Kurosaki was getting better. He was already showing great improvement by having less and less nightmares, but it wasn’t enough to make the Arrancar’s wary concern disappear.

Ichigo shifted in his sleep, brows knitting together as he became uncomfortable. Sunkissed fingers brushed away long bundles of hair trapped under his head until his hair pooled around him in a vast sea of orange. Satisfied, Ichigo’s hand returned to his side and the wrinkle upon his brow was erased. Goosebumps sprouted along Grimmjow’s arms as the tips of Kurosaki’s long hair brushed against his skin and held back a shiver.

I don't know about you being a king or whatever... But just beating up everyone who annoys you and becoming a king by yourself...where the hell's the fun in that? If I really piss you off that much, I'll fight you as many times as you like. So for now...can't you just stop?

Grimmjow’s eyes traced Ichigo’s sleeping face. Despite being a child, Ichigo had been right. He got nothing out of being alone. His eyes slipped down to the silky orange hair tickling his arm. Aside from his Fracción, Kurosaki had been the only other person to respect him. The only person who gave a crap about his life.

Why?

Grimmjow’s fingers started to comb through the spiked ends of orange hair and stroked the soft strands as a smile dusted his lips. He already knew the answer.

That’s just who Ichigo is.

It’s not because he was special. That’s how Ichigo looked at everyone. Grimmjow was one of many rejects Kurosaki defended and protected. Nothing more. Nothing less.

A warm hum beckoned Grimmjow to look at the boy.

A small smile lifted Ichigo’s lips as his eyes grew soft once again, and somehow their beauty was enhanced by peering through long and thick lashes. “Thank you, Grimmjow. For everything you’ve done. For helping me.”

Blue eyes traced the shape of Ichigo’s lips as he remembered that smile. They were plump, the bottom lip being fuller than the top. He never cared for the color of someone’s lips, but Kurosaki’s were an alluring natural pink, the kind of shade that was normally had due to constant biting. Sitting on the bottom lip, just a little right from the true center, was a stray freckle. He never noticed it before, but now he couldn’t look away.

Grimmjow’s fingers twitched as he swallowed. Those lips formed a beautiful smile, when it was real. The one Kurosaki had given him when he bandaged his hands was real. It had been real and it had been so close. He had felt Ichigo’s breath on his skin. He had counted the number of gold stars in his eyes. He had seen the opportunity to lean forward and capture Kurosaki’s lips with his own.

But he hadn’t.

Soft ginger hair slipped between his fingers as he slowly stretched out his arm towards the human.

The closer his fingers came to touching Kurosaki’s lips the more his hand trembled.

The more his heart pounded in his chest.

The more his breath hitched.

The more frightened he became.

His fingers shook a few mere centimeters away from Ichigo’s lip. He could feel the boy’s warm breath ghosting across his skin, heating his cold body. That lovely freckle, that lovely lucky freckle, was almost in his grasp. That’s when his resolve shattered.

Grimmjow withdrew his arm quickly and pulled the covers high over his shoulder. He pushed himself to lay on the very edge of the bed, but he never turned away from the ginger.

He was too entranced to look away.

Chapter 24: A Death God's Mother

Chapter Text

He hadn’t felt this exhausted in years.

Grimmjow crammed himself into the furthest corner of the couch as he drew his knees to his chest and scrubbed at his heavy eyelids. Every time he blinked his vision got blurrier and blurrier and his eyelids sank lower and lower, it was driving him crazy. He would have slept in, like he usually did, but there was no point. He wouldn’t have been able to turn his brain off long enough to get any rest.

“Grimmjow? You sure you don’t want to go back to bed? You look exhausted.”

Grimmjow’s ears twitched at the sound of Kurosaki’s voice and lowered a hand from his face. Kurosaki looked legitimately concerned about his wellbeing. Grimmjow wasn’t sure he would ever get used to that. Then again, he shouldn’t be given the time to get used to it. Get Kurosaki’s powers back, kill him, and get out. That was his plan. He had to follow the plan. Otherwise he’ll get used to all of this. He wasn’t meant to be here. Even though Kurosaki made him feel the opposite, he was a Hollow through and through. No amount of homemade dinners and late nights watching movies would change that.

“Grimmjow? Are you okay?” Ichigo asked, his soft concern morphing into worry.

Grimmjow turned his gaze away from the boy before he found himself staring too much. “‘M fine. Just go back to studying,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes once more.

The ginger didn’t look convinced but did as told, giving Grimmjow the opportunity to stare at Kurosaki once more. Usually when Ichigo studied he would be surrounded by paperwork and textbooks and would hunch over all of it like some goblin with nice hair tied in a loose bun. Today was different. He had only one textbook resting on the coffee table and a spiral notebook sitting beside it, and that was all. He only scribbled down the occasional note, short ones that were only a fraction of what he took before. Instead of tight shoulders and an aching back, Kurosaki’s body was relaxed. There wasn’t a single tense muscle in his body. Grimmjow doubted anyone had ever seen him this calm before. The cherry on top was Kurosaki’s hair. The long orange locks poured down his back and over his shoulders, uncontained by a hair tie or headband, and framed Ichigo’s face in a way that was purely angelic. Of course that could be from sunlight pouring through the window and drenching his body in light and causing his hair to glow like fire. Either way it didn’t matter. He was undeniably beautiful.

Grimmjow watched as Ichigo thoughtlessly twirled his hair on the end of his finger. At this length, Kurosaki’s hair looked like his mother’s. His was a lot brighter and not nearly as wavy, but anyone could see the similarities. Grimmjow’s eyes moved back to the boy’s face. He wondered if Ichigo noticed, too.

“Who’s the woman in that picture?”

There was no reason for him to ask such a question. He already knew the answer. There wasn’t a reason to ask a question in general. He wasn’t supposed to care about Kurosaki’s personal life. Grimmjow had told himself not to go digging, but his curiosity overwhelmed him. Kurosaki was such a strange person that he couldn’t help but want to pick him apart piece by piece (figuratively and literally) to find out what made him tick.

Ichigo looked up from his notes in confusion. “What picture?”

He could have dismissed it. He could have told the ginger to forget about it, but he didn’t. Grimmjow unfurled his tightly curled body and walked over to the shelf and pulled out the first photo album. Without looking he flipped the album open to the page he wanted and thrust the binder toward Kurosaki.

Ichigo’s eyes connected with the picture and his whole demeanor changed. A tight and somber smile stretched across his face. His shoulders slumped. His eyes darkened and dulled. He looked just like all those other pictures. Grimmjow hated that look.

Ichigo took the album from Grimmjow’s hands and continued to smile sadly even as his fingers stroked the picture, “That’s my mom.”

Suddenly, the album was shut and set aside as Kurosaki stood and disappeared into his room. Grimmjow’s stomach twisted. He shouldn’t have brought it up. He was just as bad as the human’s friends.

Before he could berate himself any further, Ichigo returned with a wooden box roughly half the size of the photo album. The urge to apologize died on his tongue when Ichigo placed the box in his hands with a soft smile.

“I keep her photos in my desk drawer. It’s kinda hard to have her...easily accessible to visitors. I don’t like to talk about her,” Ichigo admitted as he sat back down on the floor.

Grimmjow gave him a curious glance as moved back to the couch. “Why?”

“I’m not worthy enough to talk about her,” Ichigo replied as if rehearsed.

No, as if he believed his own words.

Grimmjow slowly pulled back the box’s lid and removed the first picture. “To be perfectly honest, I’m probably not worthy enough to hear about her anyways,” he offered.

A chuckle spilled from Kurosaki’s lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Grimmjow stared down at the photo in awe. The woman was beyond beautiful. Everything about her screamed warmth and happiness. Her auburn hair. Her big brown eyes. Her smile. Grimmjow had never met the woman, but just looking at her made him feel more calm and comfortable than he had ever felt before.

“She was the heart of our family.”

His eyes peeled away from the pictures to look at Ichigo. The boy’s eyes were distant and the smile resting on his lips was painful, but Grimmjow didn’t stop him from speaking.

“She meant everything to us. Her whole life was dedicated to loving us and she loved living that way. She stopped at nothing to make us happy. She was always kind and caring, and not just toward us, but to everyone. Everyone loved her. She was never angry. She was never sad. All she ever did was smile. Which meant all we ever did was smile, too. Her happiness was our happiness. As long as we had our mom, nothing else mattered,” Ichigo’s fingers anxiously combed through his long hair as his smile slithered away, “Losing her shattered our world. Someone might as well have just tore the hearts out of our chests. She was our reason for being happy, and without her...everything changed.”

Grimmjow knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he did.

“What happened to her?”

A dark scowl marred Ichigo’s face as his hands stilled. Hatred burned in his honey brown eyes and caused a prick of fear to spark in Grimmjow’s chest. He had never seen his eyes look like that before. Not even when Grimmjow had hurt his friends. His fear soon melted away when Ichigo closed his eyes, but his curiosity grew impatient as the ginger wordlessly refused to answer his question. Grimmjow stomped the curiosity away and forced himself to look back at the pictures. Nothing good could come out of antagonizing the human.

Silence consumed the apartment and turned the atmosphere heavy, and it was Grimmjow’s fault. He knew this topic would cause Kurosaki turmoil but he opened his big mouth anyways and got involved. He was just like Kurosaki’s friends. He would rather be a pile of sh*t than be like those bastards.

How could he fix this?

Grimmjow’s thumb brushed over the last picture. He had thought that Ichigo looked a lot like his father, which he did to a degree, but now that he saw the boy’s mother...it was obvious who he took after. Her auburn hair glowed a fiery orange under the sun, a hue Grimmjow had become accustomed to seeing every day. Her features were soft and round, which explained why Ichigo didn’t have the sharp and angular appearance of his father. Her smile—even her lips—and her nose were the same as Ichigo’s. She even had a faint dusting of freckles on her face, just like Ichigo. Grimmjow’s gaze became transfixed on her eyes. Big and expressive, cinnamon and honey fused brown eyes that looked at the camera as if whoever stood behind it meant the world to her. How many times had he seen those exact eyes whenever he looked at Kurosaki?

“She’s gorgeous,” Grimmjow murmured.

A fraction of the boy’s smile returned and his eyes reopened, all anger drained from his face. “Yeah. She was, anyways.”

“You look a lot like her.”

Grimmjow didn’t look away when Ichigo’s brown eyes lit up stared at him in surprise.

“You think so?”

His voice sounded so hopeful.

“Wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it,” Grimmjow replied.

The Gigai’s heart tightened when Ichigo smiled and a cold sweat broke out across his skin as Kurosaki blushed.

f*ck.He had made a mistake.

Chapter 25: Swallow It, Stomp It Down, Burn It to Ash

Chapter Text

Ichigo Kurosaki was a disease. Grimmjow wasn’t sure that anyone else had noticed it, but he had. He wasn’t some sickness that after a few days of coughing and sniffles it was over and done with. Kurosaki was an infectious disease, one spread by parasites that bore into muscle and flesh to take over the mind and heart. He didn’t transmit the sickness by vicious bites or contaminated food (at least Grimmjow hoped not because at this point he wasn’t sure he could make himself stop eating whatever Ichigo put in front of him). He passed his disease with a look, a touch, a smile. His eyes burning with so much passion that anyone who looked directly at them would find the motivation to take action, usually for his cause. His touch so gentle and soft that it would be impossible to consider him an enemy. His smile...his smile was reserved for only those worthy enough to see it...and seeing it once was never enough, and the need to make him smile again was compulsive and relentless. Kurosaki’s disease reconstructed the heart and the mind to the point where anyone he infected could never, and would never, conspire against him. The evidence was everywhere. Kurosaki’s friends followed him into battle blindly. Kurosaki’s enemies became his friends. Even Aizen, in his own twisted and sad*stic way, cared for the ginger. Ichigo’s disease was a manipulative, controlling, and terrifying weapon. Grimmjow had seen what Kurosaki did to others first hand. He wouldn’t allow himself to succumb to Kurosaki’s disease.

Grimmjow watched Ichigo carefully. He spoke to Urahara with a smile—a real one, although small—and it was strong enough to make Urahara’s whole face light up with glee. Existing without Kurosaki’s smile was like going through withdrawal. Flailing to become whole again when something important had been taken from them. Ichigo had the ex-Soul Reaper wrapped around his finger. It was sad and frightening to see a human with so much power.

“Kurosaki. Stop visiting and wasting my time,” Grimmjow ordered.

Ichigo turned and shot him a brilliant smile. Disgust bubbled in Grimmjow’s belly. He had known people like him. More accurately, people who had the same ability as Kurosaki. They used their powers in different ways and for opposite reasons, but in the end they were all pulling on puppet strings.

He had been a puppet for someone like him before.

He wasn’t going to allow that to happen again.

“You know Urahara doesn’t start timing us until we start training, right?” Ichigo chuckled.

“Don’t care. I don’t like messin’ around. Talk on your own time,” Grimmjow replied coldly.

The ginger looked surprised by his blunt words and his smile waned, but didn’t disappear. “I guess you’re right. What do you have planned for today?” Ichigo asked, his smile sparkling once again.

Was he the only one that saw the poison dripping from Kurosaki’s fangs?

“Gaining control of your spiritual pressure. It’s the same concept as muscle control. The more you exercise the stronger you get, the more familiarity you have with your body. Five years ago you had almost no control over your spiritual pressure. Quite frankly you were out of touch with your full potential because of it. Hacking and slashing won’t work against every enemy you encounter. Arrancar use their spiritual pressure for both offense and defense. Bala and Cero are our spiritual pressure condensed into an attack, consider them a more refined version of your Getsuga Tenshō or kidō. That is our offensive. Our defense is our skin, the Heirro. It’s spiritual pressure tightly compacted together to function as armor for our bodies. At your level I don’t expect you to perform any kind of offensive attack, but you can manage to create a defense. Which, if you’re smart enough, you can also use it for offense,” Grimmjow explained.

“Okay...so, what do you want me to do?” Ichigo asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Exercise your spiritual pressure. I’ll raise mine and you raise yours to push back. Simple,” he replied.

“Really simple. I’m surprised you would start off with something so easy,” Ichigo said.

Grimmjow scoffed as he pulled a pill from his pocket. “I said it was a simple concept. Didn’t say anything about you being able to do it. Judging by your stats from five years ago, I doubt it’ll be easy for you.”

Before Ichigo could respond the Arrancar tossed the pill into his mouth and swallowed. The nausea from being separated from the Gigai went unnoticed as it mixed with the uneasy feeling currently sliding through his veins like mud. He didn’t give Goro a chance to speak, snapping his fingers to get the attention of the Kaizō Konpaku and jabbing his finger in Urahara’s direction. Goro scowled and stuck out his tongue in a childish attempt to mock the Arrancar, but moved to stand beside the blonde after giving Ichigo a brisk wave. Ichigo smiled back and Grimmjow’s eye twitched.

Everyone fell into his trap, didn’t they?

Grimmjow started out slow. He released the tiniest bit of his spiritual pressure, just enough to give Kurosaki a nudge. The human responded quickly, smiling as he pushed back with his own spiritual pressure. Kurosaki had a surprising amount of sensitivity to be able to feel such a soft touch. Maybe the ginger was stronger than he was letting on. Grimmjow doubled his spiritual pressure. It took a moment of struggle, but soon Ichigo’s spiritual pressure matched the level he was emitting. Grimmjow raised his again.

Kurosaki’s wasn’t frightened at all. The boy couldn’t see his enemy, but there wasn’t an ounce of concern weighing down his smile. Confidence rolled off his relaxed shoulders in waves, his hip co*cked as if they were merely having a conversation, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans as if he trusted Grimmjow.

Or he knew that Grimmjow couldn’t hurt him.

The Arrancar clenched his jaw and tripled his spiritual pressure, his stony eyes watching beads of sweat form on Ichigo’s forehead as he adjusted to the sudden weight. With a grunt Ichigo managed to stand straight once more and smiled at Grimmjow with pride.

Why did he keep smiling? He had nothing to smile about. He was completely powerless. Completely at Grimmjow’s mercy. Did he think his friends could save him? Goro was bound to a Gigai. Grimmjow had noticed early on that the Gigai was made specifically to contain him and his spiritual pressure, so Goro had more freedom in the meat suit than he did. Even then Grimmjow knew he wouldn’t need his zanpakutō to kill him. Goro was outlandishly strong, but he was slow and that strength didn’t even begin to compare to a low level Arrancar. Urahara was the tricky one. Scientists always had a Plan B, and twenty-four after that, but Urahara had never seen him in battle. At this rate Grimmjow was completely unpredictable. Five years was a long time to gain and hone power. He could squash them all like bugs.

“C’mon, Grimmjow, I thought you said this wasn’t going to be easy?” Ichigo teased.

That pompous confidence was irritating. There was nothing for him to be proud of. He was nothing. Kurosaki was just a human with the same level awareness of the spiritual realm as a stray cat. So why was Kurosaki so sure that he could survive anything Grimmjow threw at him? Did he really think that little of him?

Grimmjow’s spiritual pressure slowly began to climb as he searched Kurosaki’s eyes. He should have seen hatred, rivalry, bloodlust or disgust or fear...but he saw none of them. All he saw was trust. f*cking trust. What for? Did Kurosaki think he was going to survive if Grimmjow attacked him? Did he think he was stronger? What made Kurosaki so sure that Grimmjow wasn’t going to harm him?

The mud in Grimmjow’s veins hardened into sharp rocks.

The compliments. The smile. The familiarity and concern. The urge to call him a friend. His kindness. His care...

Grimmjow’s strange need to make Ichigo smile. His unnatural instinct to protect the ginger from his friends. His bizarre desire to help the human. Changing his diet and means of nourishment to keep Kurosaki happy, even at the risk of his own health...

The bait was sweeter, but it was the same f*cking trap as before, and this time he had fallen for it. He knew the symptoms. Just like the Espada, he had succumbed to flattering lies. He had become a puppet once again, but this time he f*cking gave the puppet master his strings. He had become infected like the rest of them.

“You claim to be a king, Grimmjow, but you cannot become a king by screaming your title and calling your friends soldiers. You become a king by allowing yourself to be used by a god. You ride into battle for your deity. You watch your friends die for your deity. Then, eventually, you too will die serving your superior being, and in death your power will be credited to your god, because without them you wouldn’t have amounted to anything. As your god, Grimmjow, I advise that if you wish to be a king you should behave and do as I tell you. Otherwise you’ll be nothing more than an insolent fool claiming to be worth more than he really is.”

Ichigo’s spiritual pressure surged forward in an attempt to overwhelm Grimmjow, the action causing the rocks in his veins to shatter as his body jolted and flooded with panic, knees locking in refusal to fall. He instantly threw his spiritual pressure back at the ginger in defense, drowning the human in thick, merciless waves of hooked claws and destruction.

His power easily shattered the human’s weak spiritual pressure and brought Kurosaki to his knees with a painful crack. Strangled gasps tore through Ichigo’s throat as his sightless brown eyes stared at Grimmjow in terror, his body crumpling under the tremendous weight. Grimmjow’s panic spiked at the sight of those eyes and suddenly every last drop of his spiritual pressure swallowed Kurosaki whole.

He had to kill those eyes.

Within seconds saliva bubbled and spilled over the human’s lips as his gasps ceased, his lungs no longer able to function. The terror in Ichigo’s eyes slowly bled away until all that was left were the empty husks of lifeless brown irises that started to slowly roll back into his skull. A burst of spiritual pressure pulsed from Kurosaki’s body, the scent dark and heavy and laced with the intent to kill. Grimmjow’s hand immediately took hold of Pantera’s hilt, the grip biting into his skin as his sword screamed for blood.

Grimmjow’s knees struck the rocky ground while his arms were twisted into painful and useless angles behind his back as Pantera was thrown far across the training grounds, discarded like garbage. His palm began to glow, a cero building with his fear as he bared his teeth with a snarl, a roar tearing through his throat as rough hands grabbed handfuls of his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Just as the cero reached its maximum charge a sword was placed at his throat and everything became still.

Urahara’s green eyes boiled with hatred and bloodlust. He wanted to kill him. Who didn’t? His sharp blade nicked Grimmjow’s skin, a wet trail of blood sliding down his throat as Urahara spoke through his teeth. “I think training is done for the day.”

“Ichigo! Ichigo say something!” Goro shouted in desperation, the strength of his booming voice piercing Grimmjow’s ear almost as painful as the Kaizō Konpaku’s hold on him, “Urahara he’s not responding!”

“It’s alright, Goro. Ichigo’s alive. For now. We need to get him to his father quickly,” Urahara replied as his removed his sword, staring down at Grimmjow in disgust.

Grimmjow’s eyes connected with Ichigo’s crumpled body and a wave of nausea washed through him. If it weren’t for the very slight rise and fall of Kurosaki’s chest the boy would have seemed dead. A few more seconds under Grimmjow’s spiritual pressure and he would have been.

Reality pierced through his body like a blade and the cero died in his hand.

What had he done?

Chapter 26: Tense

Chapter Text

Grimmjow’s brain throbbed in his skull, each pulse filling his head with pain and increasing the nausea in his stomach. He was pinned in a deep corner in the living room of Kurosaki Clinic, forced to sit on the floor as scattered bodies stood around him like a cage of flesh. He paid no mind to them. His fingers took large fistfuls of his hair and pulled in an attempt to lift his skin from his scalp and relieve the pain. No matter what he did that nightmare played again and again in his mind. Every time he saw the life drain from Ichigo’s eyes his nausea increased, and the anger he was gradually building towards himself caused his head to feel as if it were falling apart.

He f*cked up.

He attacked Kurosaki while he was still weak. It was dirty. It was cheap. And it was far from what he wanted. He had nearly killed the ginger. If the boy had his powers Grimmjow wouldn’t feel this way, but Ichigo was nowhere near ready for their battle. At this rate, killing Kurosaki would simply be cowardly slaughter. His actions were shameful. He was no better than Nnoitra. How the f*ck had he become so weak?

Enraged voices grew louder as Ichigo’s friends argued and bickered. They were trying to decide what was to be done with him, as if he were an unwanted object that could be thrown away. It’s not like this was the first time Grimmjow had heard such desires. They spoke of methods to kill him. A common reaction to anything he’s done. They spoke of ways to punish him for years to come. That was one of Aizen’s favorites. The bastard had a thing for torture masked as simple punishment. Then they started blaming each other and themselves, wishing they had finished him off when they had the chance. That was something Arrancar never did. The blaming themselves part. Saving one’s own skin always came first. Most of those harsh words came from Urahara and Uryū. He had expected that. Orihime on the other hand looked as if she was about to fall apart. Her cheeks and the skin under her eyes had turned a bright red from insistently scrubbing tears from her face. She was doing better. An hour ago she was practically sobbing into Chad’s chest, berating herself for not being useful and unable to heal Kurosaki. Grimmjow had been so distracted with his own misery that he hadn’t been able to explain to the princess that there was nothing she could have done. A shattered spiritual pressure was vastly different from shredded flesh and muscle. Luckily his words weren’t needed. Chad’s hand gently rubbing her shoulder was the only thing holding her together. Chad’s eyes met with his and Grimmjow immediately looked away. He knew he f*cked up. He didn’t need the damn human to look at him like that. At least Kon had taken the twins out before they arrived. Even Grimmjow could agree that the girls didn’t need to see their brother like this.

“Ichigo doesn’t know when to quit. I shouldn’t have allowed them to use the training grounds,” Urahara huffed.

Grimmjow’s eye twitched, but forced himself to ignore it as he pressed the heel of his hand against his eye.

“I tried to get him to change his mind but you know how he is. He’s stubborn and never listens. He’s always been frustrating,” Uryū growled.

Grimmjow’s eye twitched again as his headache throbbed in anger. He wished they would stop talking.

“He doesn’t know what’s good for him,” Urahara agreed.

Grimmjow snapped. He lifted his head and glared at Ichigo’s friends in bewildered rage. “Are you f*cking sh*tting me?”

Uryū bristled at the sound of his voice and shot a glare back. “Excuse you, Arrancar?” he hissed.

He ignored the Quincy’s tone and lowered his knees to sit with his legs crossed. “What in hell makes you think you’re qualified to know what is and isn’t good for Kurosaki?” Grimmjow snapped.

“The same qualifications you’ve never had: brains and friendship,” Uryū retorted tightly.

“Being friends with Kurosaki doesn’t mean sh*t! You can’t f*cking rule over someone’s life like that!” Grimmjow spat.

“I don’t remember asking for moral insight from a soul devouring Arrancar,” Uryū sneered.

This Quincy infuriated him beyond belief. If he weren’t trapped in this damn Gigai he wouldn’t have to use words to make the bastard shut his big mouth.

A hand took hold of Uryū’s shoulder, quietly asking him to back down as Urahara took a step forward. “Jaegerjaquez, do you know why none of us have tried to help Ichigo regain his powers?” he asked calmly.

Grimmjow glowered at the ex-Soul Reaper. “I assumed it was for a ridiculous, stupid, and unfair reason that none of you consulted Kurosaki on.”

Urahara shook his head as he released Uryū’s shoulder. “The reason is because we don’t want him to get his powers back. Ichigo is a man fueled by self sacrifice and he will and has died for others. We don’t want that to happen again. It’s our turn to protect him and fight our own battles. We can’t rely-.”

“That’s not whatKurosaki wants.”

They all stared at him as if he had lost his mind. At this rate he probably has, but not over this. He knew he was right about this.

“What do you mean?” Chad asked slowly.

Grimmjow crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall with a snort. Idiots. All of them.

“It’s not that f*cking complicated. Ichigo wants to protect all of you. He wants power to save lives. He craves to prevent pain at the risk of his own safety, for whatever reason he may have. His whole identity is based upon protecting others. Taking that away from him has caused severe damage. Do any of you realize how fake he is? I barely know sh*t about him but even I can see how forced that smile is. He’s not happy like this,” Grimmjow replied.

“How would you know—.”

Grimmjow shot Uryū a vicious glare and slowly climbed to his feet.

“How do I know? f*cking look at him. He feels useless! He watches you three run around killing Hollows and knows he can’t do a damn thing to protect you even though he would give anything to be able to do so. He’s doing what he can to feel like he’s making a difference. He’s studying day and night to become some desk jockey homicide detective to protect people from killers, to bring peace and justice to the victims and their families. He’s training with me to get his powers back when he knows the chances of regaining his powers are slim, even though it puts him at my mercy. He knows the risks as well as you do. Unlike you, Kurosaki knows it’s a risk he has to take. He doesn’t want to see any of you hurt and the fear of your pain is causing so much damage to him because he’s powerless to help. He has to get his powers back. Otherwise he’ll be haun—,” the mentions of Ichigo’s nightmares die on Grimmjow’s tongue, knowing that was information he shouldn’t share, and clenched his fists at his sides, “I know that he’s haunted by memories of being unable to help you all before, and I also know that he’s driving himself insane by worrying about whether or not his friends will come back alive when they leave to exterminate a Hollow. You want to keep Kurosaki safe and you want him to live a normal life, and believe it or not I understand that...but that’s not what he wants. You’re forcing your desires upon him and those wishes are killing him from the inside out and make him feel worthless. I know you can see it. You know damn well that your actions are making him unhappy, but all of you are so f*cking stubborn. You think you know what’s right for him and that eventually everything will turn out the way you want it to and you won’t even listen when he states otherwises. Why the f*ck am I, Kurosaki’s f*cking enemy, the only one listening to him? How can you call yourself his friend when you can’t even do that?”

Now it was their turn to avoid his gaze. Good. They should feel ashamed. Grimmjow never claimed to be anything he wasn’t, so neither should they. They couldn’t call themselves Kurosaki’s friends if they hurt him as much as they did.

Grimmjow scoffed as his nose wrinkled in disgust, “I bet you don’t even know why Kurosaki grew his hair out.”

They were still silent. Uryū glared at the floor as if he were still trying to deny the truth, and Kisuke didn’t look as if he was faring any better. Chad was, as usual, impossible to read, but at least Orihime displayed the desired response of sorrow and guilt. Maybe now they won’t interfere as much. The Gigai’s heart sank and Grimmjow’s frown deepened as he became uncomfortable. That’s if there was anything left to interfere with. Kurosaki might not want his help after what he did. There was no telling if he would survive, either. At least not in one piece.

“Ichigo, wait! Ichigo stop! You can’t leave in this condition!”

Isshin’s panicked voice called Grimmjow’s attention to the stairs. Clinging to the railing with sweaty palms and shaking arms, Kurosaki slowly shuffled into view at the bottom of the stairs. All of his weight rested against the wall in a weak attempt to stay standing while his energy was focused on fixing his strangled breathing. His teeth were clenched, sweat dripping down his jaw, a dark scowl marring his face. Kurosaki was in a lot of pain, and it was his fault, but the burning glare in his eyes was pointed at his friends, not at Grimmjow.

Isshin appeared over Ichigo’s shoulder and took hold of his arm in an attempt to usher the ginger back up stairs. “Ichigo, you need to rest! You’re going to—.”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Ichigo screeched as he ripped his arm from his father’s grasp.

The human’s piercing scream caused Grimmjow to flinch, his headache returning from the shrill sound. He waited for Ichigo to scream at him next. He waited for Ichigo to turn his hateful stare onto him, but he didn’t. The moment Ichigo’s eyes connected with his the ginger’s body sagged under the strain of his own weight, the hate in his irises melting away and was replaced with a silent plea.

“Grimmjow...I want to go home,” Ichigo whispered.

Kurosaki didn’t hate him.

Of course he didn’t. That’s not the kind of person he is.

Ichigo’s knees started to shake and a weak whimper jumped from his throat as he started to collapse. Multiple hands reached out towards the ginger, but before they could make contact Grimmjow swatted them all away. He caught Ichigo with his left arm and held the human against his side, while he kept his right hand free to hold Kurosaki’s friends back if it was needed. Ichigo’s body sagged as he entrusted Grimmjow to hold him up. Grimmjow’s arm tightened around his waist in response.

“You should’ve stayed in bed, dumbass,” Grimmjow grumbled gruffly.

Ichigo responded by pressing his face deep into Grimmjow’s chest while his fingers sank into his side and stomach.

Stubborn idiot.

“Kurosaki and I are going to take a cab home. I’m surehe would appreciate it if one of you drove his car to the apartment for him. Four eyes,” Grimmjow snapped his fingers at Uryū and curled his fingers, “Fork over the money. I’m not gonna use any of Kurosaki’s.”

The Quincy scowled. “Why won’t you let one of us drive you?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a car for three hours with any of you. Besides, Kurosaki obviously needs space,” Grimmjow sneered. He snapped his fingers again but Uryū still didn’t move.

Uryū’s dark, deep blue eyes studied Ichigo. Sweat dripped down the ginger’s temple. Harsh breaths spilled past his lips. His face buried deep in Grimmjow’s chest as his weak fingers clung to the Arrancar desperately. There was a sudden shift in Uryū. The anger and resentment he held towards Grimmjow was wiped from his face and replaced with a look of sorrow, despair, and...loss. The Quincy lowered his eyes to the floor, his brow furrowed in pain as all the fight in his body drained away.

“Let me drive you both home. I owe Ichigo that much,” Uryū murmured.

“I told you we’re not-.”

Grimmjow’s argument died on his tongue when the Quincy fixed him with a broken and resentful stare.

Why were all humans so weird and complicated?

Grimmjow clenched his jaw with a growl, “Fine, but don’t f*ckin' bother talking to either of us.”

Chapter 27: Remain With Me

Chapter Text

A weak cry spilled from Ichigo’s lips. The sound was quickly soothed by Grimmjow adjusting his grip on the ginger’s waist as he slowly led Ichigo to their room. A grimace marred the boy’s face and his fingers clawed Grimmjow’s arms.

“You’re almost there,” Grimmjow murmured, his voice strained from being silent for so long. He wasn’t a conversationalist. He had always prefered silence, at least on his end. It wasn’t until now that he realized he was so used to speaking with Kurosaki that even three hours without so much as a teasing remark passing between them rendered his voice dusty and unused.

“I told you not to carry him like that. He shouldn’t be walking on his own,” Uryū snapped.

“Shut your f*cking mouth, Quincy. I’m not gonna take advice from you,” Grimmjow retorted.

“My father is a doctor so my advice is guaranteed to be better than yours,” Uryū growled.

“Well I’ve murdered and eaten thousands of people, so my advice for you to shut your goddamn trap before I make you is pretty solid,” Grimmjow replied with a threatening grin.

Uryū scoffed and pushed up his glasses with his middle finger, “As if you could touch me in that Gigai.”

“Humans kill each other all the damn time. I’ll find a way,” Grimmjow snapped.

He wished they could go back to those three hours in the car. Uryū hadn’t said a word the entire car ride and honestly that was the closest Grimmjow was ever going to get to Heaven. Even if Kurosaki had been clinging to him so much to the point Grimmjow’s shirt was soaked by his sweat—it had been worth it. Now that they were back on their own feet the Quincy wouldn’t f*cking shut up. Apparently he had been bottling up his insults and waiting to unleash them when Ichigo wouldn’t get in their way. That was a mistake. Now Grimmjow had an equal chance to break that perfect nose as Uryū did shooting him with an arrow.

Ever so gently, with far more care than Grimmjow expected from himself, he eased Ichigo onto their bed and pulled away when the boy laid flat on his back. Kurosaki looked awful. He was still panting. Every breath was rocky and painful and Grimmjow swore he could feel his lungs aching in empathy. Ichigo’s lips were frozen in a permanent snarl, the burdened scowl from his teenage years resting upon his brow once more. Every muscle in the boy’s body was tense. He looked as if he were laying on a bed of nails rather than an expensive king size mattress. Hell, with the amount of sweat pouring from Ichigo’s skin Grimmjow wouldn’t doubt that he would be dehydrated by morning.

He couldn’t believe he would do something so stupid.

“You and Ichigo are sharing a bed?”

Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder at Uryū and frowned. “I remember telling you to drop off the car and leave...damn, I just can’t remember telling you to stick around like a f*cking parasite. You do realize you’re putting Kurosaki at risk, right? The more he’s exposed to spiritual pressure stronger than his the worse his condition is gonna get. I’m literally the only one who can get near him thanks to this plum smuggling Gigai.”

The Quincy ignored his voice and instead became transfixed on Ichigo. There was something in those blue eyes that was bothering Grimmjow. He and Kurosaki were friends, and good ones judging by the fact they fought side by side in two wars, but at the moment Uryū was looking down at the ginger as if his whole world had been torn apart and burned by the powerless human’s hands. That in itself was odd. Uryū and the other’s were the one f*cking with Ichigo’s life, not the other way around. Then why did the Quincy look so betrayed and brokenhearted?

“Any reason why you’re not listening to me, Quincy?” Grimmjow bit.

Uryū’s eyes tore away from Ichigo to stare at Grimmjow, but he quickly averted his gaze.

“No. My apologies, Arrancar. I’ll be leaving now. Call me if…,” a pained face shattered Uryū’s dark, mocking scowl, “Nevermind. You most likely won’t need anything. Just...take care of him...please.”

Wait.

Please?

Just like that, with a somber click of the front door, the Quincy was gone. He had never been that easy to get rid of before. The broken note in his voice, however, was even harder to get rid of as it echoed in Grimmjow’s mind. What the f*ck was going on?

Grimmjow tore his eyes away from where Uryū last stood, pushing the man from his thoughts, and turned to look at Ichigo once more. It was probably best if he started sleeping on the couch again. Ichigo needed space to heal, and once he came to he most likely wouldn’t want the Arrancar around anymore. Or at least not so close.

He f*cking hated that couch.

It was a punishment well deserved.

With a sigh Grimmjow turned to leave, but froze when weak fingers trapped his wrist in a loose grip. He peaked over his shoulder and found of Ichigo’s half lidded cinnamon brown eyes peering up at him in earnest. Ichigo’s fingers squeezed his wrist softly and Grimmjow swallowed.

“C’n...y’stay?” Ichigo murmured, his voice laced with pain and exhaustion, desperately seeking comfort.

Can he? Speaking on a physical level, yes, he could. Should he? No. Absolutely not. There was a line carved in the soft white carpet of this apartment and stepping over it would be equal to setting his dumb ass on fire.

Maybe he really had lost his mind.

“Okay,” Grimmjow agreed.

The very corners of Ichigo’s lips lifted and Grimmjow found himself mirroring the expression with unease and uncertainty. The boy released his wrist and Grimmjow tossed his jacket aside as he circled over to his side of the bed and climbed in. He settled beside the ginger stiffly, choosing to sit with his back against the headboard, unsure of what he was really doing. Consoling others and helping people wasn’t his thing. Normally he would never do this, but he owed Ichigo for saving him when his friends nearly killed him. And for feeding him, housing him, and generally putting up with his crap. All of this was foreign territory. He had no clue what to do, or what he was even willing to do. What the f*ck was Grimmjow supposed to do? Talk to him? Apologize? Tell Kurosaki that the next time they trained he was allowed a free punch? Not knowing which was the correct answer made him anxious. Uncertainty wasn’t a desired emotion for Hollows.

Fingers brushed over a pale strip of skin exposed by a tear in his jeans, the unexpected touch causing Grimmjow to bristle. His eyes bounced over to Ichigo. The boy was in such poor shape, but he was trying his hardest to hold it together.

That’s when it finally clicked.

Ichigo gained comfort from physical connections with another person. It grounded him. No wonder he wanted Grimmjow to stay.

He was really going to hate himself in the morning.

Before he could change his mind Grimmjow took hold of Ichigo’s bicep and pulled the ginger closer, allowing the human’s head to rest on his thigh. As expected, the same fire he felt any time Ichigo touched him consumed his body, and it took all of his self control to restart his breathing. “Stop dickin’ around, Kurosaki. If you want something f*cking ask for it. Stop being so damn meek, it’s annoying,” Grimmjow growled gruffly.

A quiet chuckle tickled the uncovered skin of his stomach and caused the Arrancar to shiver. He f*cking hated goosebumps. Also, he seriously needed in invest in long sleeved clothing with no tears or rips or anything else that would allow Kurosaki to touch him directly. Damn his taste in clothing and f*ck Uryū for somehow figuring out his fashion choices.

Ichigo laid his head on Grimmjow’s thigh, his hair tickling the sensitive skin on the Arrancar’s belly and snuggled—snuggled—as closely as he could to Grimmjow without climbing into his lap.

f*ck hating himself in the morning.

Grimmjow hated himself right now.

“S’ry. Felt weird...t’ask,” Ichigo murmured, wincing against a twinge of pain.

“Everything about you is f*ckin’ weird, Kurosaki. I’ve gotten used to it,” Grimmjow scoffed.

Ichigo chuckled again, the sound causing Grimmjow’s heart to throb.

“‘M glad t’ ‘ear it,” the ginger joked.

Pale fingers tugged on orange bangs. “Shut up and sleep,” Grimmjow ordered.

Try as he might, he couldn’t hide the relief from his face as he combed his fingers through soft orange hair. Maybe Ichigo was going to be fine after all.

Chapter 28: Examining the Heart

Chapter Text

“I can’t find that damn glove,” Grimmjow snarled. To emphasize his anger he roughly pushed around the items in the nightstand drawer before slamming it shut.

“It’s...not that big of a deal,” Ichigo said softly, a tired smile resting on his lips.

It had been a few days since the incident and the ginger still looked like crap. Not that Grimmjow would ever admit it, but the boy had scared him sh*tless the other day. Kurosaki’s breathing was so raspy it was impossible to tell if the human was able to pull any air into his lungs, and the boy’s usual sunkissed skin bled into a sickly white, making the fevered blush on his cheeks and forehead burn that much brighter. His spiritual pressure was even worse. It was so brittle and broken that Grimmjow was honestly waiting for it to crumble and collapse. Eventually Ichigo regained his color, was able to open his eyes, and could sit up in bed on his own, even if the dizziness never really subsided.

The remaining issue was the constant pain Ichigo felt in his chest.

“Kurosaki, I may not know much about hearts since I don’t, you know, have one, but I’m pretty sure that typically if a human has chest pains it’s a bad sign,” Grimmjow sneered.

The kid’s lack of self preservation was getting on his nerves. Kurosaki wouldn’t even admit that he was hurting until Grimmjow pointed out how he cringed and pitifully hid the way he grabbed his chest every few minutes.

A small, crooked grin tilted Ichigo’s lips. “Are you concerned about lil’ ol’ me?” he teased.

“I want my damn fight, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled as he ripped open another drawer, “Your damn brittle human body isn’t going to take that away from me.”

As always, the ginger responded with amusem*nt instead of irritation or anger. A soft little hum of laughter that buzzed in Grimmjow’s ears and seemed to fog over and haunt his mind. It was distracting. He hated it.

“How do you even know this isn’t just a human thing? You said it yourself. Humans are brittle,” Ichigo said pointedly.

“Oh yeah, you’re totally right. I’ve been alive five times longer than your current age and I’ve never seen someone get crushed with spiritual pressure, so we should totally listen to the bratty human who thinks he’s hot sh*t because he fought in two wars and refuses to admit when he’s in pain because he doesn’t want to make his enemy feel guilty,” Grimmjow replied, his voice dripping with thinly veiled sardonic intent.

The overstretched and joyless grin that split the Arrancar’s face in two sparked enough fear in Ichigo to cause the ginger to raise his hands in surrender. Good. Maybe the kid will shut up for once and let someone help him. Although Grimmjow wasn’t too happy about being the one who was helping. This shouldn’t be his problem. He shouldn’t have made it his own problem either...but he had. He hated owing people sh*t.

Grimmjow’s eyes turned away from the ginger as he busied himself by gently reopening the drawer he had just closed and searched through the clutter once more. As if shuffling through the ginger’s belongings for the fifth time would suddenly reveal the damned glove. “Your spiritual pressure spikes every time your chest aches. Granted, you’re still healing from...the incident...but the volume of your spiritual pressure when it spikes is ten times stronger than what you actually have. I don’t how...but it’s definitely your spiritual pressure. It’s darker, heavier, and carries a craving for death...but I could never confuse it for anyone else’s. Even if the texture is different, the scent is still the same,” Grimmjow murmured.

He didn’t need to turn to know what look the ginger was giving him. Big eyes blown slightly wider. Brows lifted in a calm surprise. Lips parted because he feels the need to say something in return, but it takes forever as he runs through the scenarios before he eventually filters himself.

“You...can recognize the scent of my spiritual pressure?” Ichigo asked.

Fresh air on a bright sunny day after the night before had been consumed by a storm. An obnoxious amount of bright flowers with mixed meanings and clashing colors. The dark alcohol hidden deep in the kitchen cabinet that Grimmjow pretended not to notice was replaced at least once every week.

“It’s a figure of speech.”

He wasn’t sure comfort would be considered a smell, but Grimmjow felt that it also applied. Even though it was so weak, Ichigo’s spiritual pressure screamed protection and healing rather than hatred and bloodlust. That’s how it had always been. That’s why the sour and bitter flavor that was added into the mix alarmed him so much.

“I don’t think we’re going to find this glove any time soon,” Grimmjow sighed as he closed the drawer and finally gained the courage to look at Kurosaki...or at least Kurosaki’s forehead, “There’s another way I can get you out of your body but it’s up to you if you want to do it.”

Ichigo tilted his head in curiosity. “What is it?”

“Soul Separation. It’s an ability many Hollows have. Well, it’s fairly common amongst the low ranking Hollows, anyway. They tend to need a physical advantage and pulling someone from their body is pretty debilitating. Generally they lose that ability when they reach Gillian.”

He was rambling. Why the hell was he rambling? Only nervous idiots did that and he was neither of those things.

Ichigo straightened his back and winced as he rubbed at a kink in his spine while his eyes connected with the Arrancar’s. Grimmjow’s eyes immediately dropped to Kurosaki’s chin.

“Why do you have the ability?” he asked.

“No idea. Don’t really care either. Never used it much and I wasn’t exactly able to choose which abilities I kept and which ones I lost when I evolved. Now do you want it or not?” Grimmjow snapped.

Really poor choice of words. He should start looking out for terms with double meanings.

“Well, I guess that’s fine. If my chest issues are really bothering you that much,” Ichigo said with a shrug.

Grimmjow had half a mind to punch the twerp right on the sternum. “Shut the f*ck up, Kurosaki. You’re the one who’s supposed to be concerned. I only give an ounce of sh*t because I want a fight out of you before you croak for good.”

“I never said you were concerned. I just said it bothered you,” Ichigo replied with a cough and tender rub to the center of his left pectoral muscle.

Grimmjow’s eye twitched. “You’re really trying to piss me off, aren’t you?”

“No. I just know from experience that I’m kinda too stubborn to die, so I’m not really worried,” Ichigo explained with a weak shrug, his brown eyes dark and distant.

The Arrancar had come so close to losing control of his tongue. Quite frankly, the boy’s disinterest in his personal health and safety was akin to suicidal tendencies. The boy might as well have tied rope around his neck and stood on a rickety, thousand year old stool and claim that the stool hadn’t collapsed before so there was no reason to worry it would fall apart now. It was ignorant and self destructive. Almost as if the brat was waiting for something to come along and finally take him out.

Grimmjow was willing to do just that, but he wasn’t going to do it without a legitimate battle. He was already pissed at himself for flying off the handle and injuring the ginger. Killing him without a fight wouldn’t be satisfying at all.

“Kurosaki...let me separate your body so I can look at your Soul form.”

The Arrancar’s gentle tone was enough to bring a spark of light back into Kurosaki’s eyes as he lifted his gaze. Grimmjow forced himself to stare back with sincerity in his blue irises as concern weighed upon his brow. When the ginger looked as if he was going to refuse, Grimmjow unleashed his final attack. His fingers brushed over the trail of freckles on Ichigo’s cheek, gathering some of the human’s bangs along the way. Carefully, he tucked thick orange locks behind the ginger’s ear, which lead his fingers along the humans stubbled jaw—the texture of his scruff causing goosebumps to devour Grimmjow’s skin and making it unbearable to restrain an excited shiver. Then it ended with the Arrancar taking hold of Ichigo’s chin and raising his face to force the boy to look deep into his eyes as he closed the distance between them.

Grimmjow was fully aware of the implications behind his actions. Their proximity couldn’t be taken as threatening or violent. The tension between them was much softer and far more dangerous. The way Grimmjow held the boy’s chin was nothing like grabbing his throat. The look in their eyes was different from five years ago, drained of their animosity and replaced with something much gentler and desirable among humans. With the way Kurosaki’s breath hitched he was sure the boy understood it too.

He was glad he didn’t have to say it, but the atmosphere screamed that treacherous word.

Please.

Ichigo’s eyes lowered to stare at a shimmering bedpost as a pink blush lit his freckles on fire. “I-I wasn’t ever against it,” he murmured.

“Yeah, but you weren’t agreeing to it either. I’m not about forcing people out of their bodies without permission,” Grimmjow replied.

His thumb brushed over the human’s lower lip. He couldn’t believe how soft those lips were. Uryū had gotten a taste of them first hand and unexpectedly that left Grimmjow feeling envious. The Arrancar knew hundreds of people would pay for the same opportunity. Grimmjow pressed his thumb down on the ginger’s lower lip, enjoying the sight of the perfect pink hue changing colors under his strength. It made him wonder what the ginger would look like with freshly bitten lips.

He wondered of dangerous and stupid things.

“It’s okay. You have my permission,” Ichigo mumbled. The blush on his face extended to his ears as brown eyes refused to meet blue.

It was a dirty trick to play with the boy’s heart in such a way, but it was all Grimmjow could think of to get him to listen. His first instinct is always to yell and snarl, and that option obviously wasn’t working. Gentle touches and low personal space was more the ginger’s speed.

Grimmjow’s thumb slowly slipped away from the boy’s lips and his chin was soon released. The Arrancar’s fingers immediately started twitching with the need to hold Ichigo’s face once more. He had no clue as to why, but he really enjoyed the ginger’s stubble. It was rough and coarse and would scratch his skin to hell, yet he still felt the urge to brush his fingers over the boy’s jaw.

He really needed to catch up on his sleep.

“I have to get out of my Gigai to make this work, so you won’t see me for a second. You alright with that?” Grimmjow asked as he reached into his pockets.

“It never bothered me before. Why would you ask?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow said nothing in reply. He didn’t need to. His face said everything, silently reminding the ginger why he was in this situation.

Ichigo dropped his gaze again. “Right. It’s okay. I don’t mind,” he replied honestly.

For some reason that was a major relief to Grimmjow. Even though he already knew Kurosaki was more forgiving than any god in existence.

A green pill was pulled from his pocket and Grimmjow sighed as he stared at his botched reflection on the smooth surface. He really didn’t want to mess with this jerk right now but there was no way around it. Not with that glove still missing. Dreading the reunion, Grimmjow swallowed the pill with a struggled gulp. The usual nausea he felt when being separated from his Gigai lasted only a moment—interrupted by his own hands wrapping around his neck, nails clawing at his throat and palm crushing his windpipe, ripping him forcefully from the Gigai. An alarmed snarl spilled from his lips when his back struck the hard floor, the sound silenced by a strong fist colliding with his cheek.

“Goro! Goro stop!” Ichigo begged, his voice cracking as he fell into a fit of coughs.

Grimmjow’s jaw ached from grinding his teeth in an attempt to keep himself silent. As much as he would love to unleash a slew of curses and insults at the Kaizō Konpaku, it would only make the situation worse for Kurosaki. The human was stressed enough in his condition. Being helpless as two people tear each other apart would only cause Kurosaki pain. So Grimmjow wedged his tongue between his teeth and bit down until blood soaked his throat as he held his fists at his sides—even if the urge to crack open Goro’s skull was overwhelming.

Goro took a fistful of blue hair and with a hard yank he smacked Grimmjow’s skull hard against the floor, a fist co*cked in preparation for another strike. “Don’t you f*cking dare touch Ichigo! I’ll kill you if you hurt him again! Do you understand me? I’ll tear you apart limb from limb myself!” Goro screeched.

“Goro stop! It was an accident!” Ichigo shouted, his voice raw and fading as he continued to cough until tears lined his lashes.

“He almost killed you!” Goro snapped.

It was weird to see hatred and rage burning in his own eyes, stranger still to see those eyes directed at himself. Even if the face was his, Grimmjow knew Goro couldn’t hide his secret any longer. He despised the Arrancar with every fiber of his being and wanted him dead. The Kaizō Konpaku’s spiritual pressure alone was trying to strangle him, reeking of bloodlust and jealousy. Grimmjow had never felt it himself, but he could recognize the symptoms easily. Rage. Jealousy. Entitlement. They all lead to one thing. Goro had fallen in love with Kurosaki.

How pathetic.

“If you’re so worried about Kurosaki dying before you tell him how you feel, then how about you stop being a coward and just f*cking confess?” Grimmjow sneered, his voice low and calm to keep his words a secret from Kurosaki.

Goro’s lungs collapsed as his body turned to stone. Just a few words and the Kaizō Konpaku had been reduced from a vicious dragon to nothing more than a fish out of water. His face was still twisted with anger and hatred but now his eyes were laced with fear. This is why Grimmjow refused to believe in or fall for love. That vulnerability could be easily exploited. It’s why Kurosaki always found himself fighting in wars that were never his problem. It’s why Goro was paralyzed, waiting for Grimmjow to expose him.

Grimmjow would never allow himself to have such preventable weaknesses.

“Why haven’t you said anything? Scared he’ll say no to an artificial soul without a body? Or is that just your insecure and pathetic excuse to not say anything?” Grimmjow mocked, already knowing the answer.

Goro’s eye twitched as he bared his teeth. His fist tightened and shot forward, causing Grimmjow to flinch as the punch made contact with a splintering crack. Shocked to not feel any pain, Grimmjow slowly squeezed open his eyes to peer up at the Kaizō Konpaku. Large chunks of wood pierced through the skin of Goro’s fist, blood oozing freely from the deep and antagonized wounds. Apparently the bedroom had hardwood floors before the current plush carpet. Pure loathing marred the Kaizō Konpaku’s face as he glared at Grimmjow in a silent seething snarl. What caught the Arrancar off guard were the tears burning in Goro’s eyes. Sorrowful diamonds soaking his lashes and threatening to spill. The look was so foreign on his face. Grimmjow hated to see such a weakness on his own features, even if it wasn’t his own emotions.

“f*ck you, Jaegerjaquez. You’re the one who keeps—.”

“Don’t f*cking use me as an excuse. Ask him now or don’t ask at all. I have nothing to do with it,” Grimmjow hissed.

A dark sneer cracked the Kaizō Konpaku’s lips as he drew his fist back further. Shimmering red blood seeped through large gashes and dripped onto Grimmjow’s cheek. He felt each heavy drop run down the side of his face, followed by tears that fell from long lashes as the fist trembled. He wasn’t going to miss this time.

“Goro...please stop.”

The Kaizō Konpaku stilled and two pairs of blue eyes turned to stare at the ginger. Ichigo still looked like a mess. His long tangled hair spilling over his shoulders and down his back like a scattered river. Sweat blotted his forehead, his breaths short as he tried to recover from his coughing. His brown eyes stared at Goro in earnest, watching the Kaizō Konpaku as if he was one action away from turning from a friend into a villain. The look wasn’t directed at Grimmjow, but even he could feel the sting of those eyes.

Suddenly, Grimmjow was released with a violent shove, hissing when his head struck the floor once more. Goro avoided Ichigo’s gaze as he climbed to his feet and backed away until he stood in the shadows of the room. “I’m not leaving. I don’t trust him,” Goro said sternly, eyes burning holes into the carpet.

“Goro, we need to take care of your hand—.”

“Worry about yourself,” Grimmjow pushed himself into a seated position and shrugged his jacket from his shoulders, “He’s a warrior. He was made to take a beating just like the rest of us. He can handle it. You, however, cannot. Not in this state. You can help him later. You have to help yourself now.”

Grimmjow used the jacket to scrub the blood and tears from his face and tossed the clothing at Goro as he stood up. “If you aren’t going to leave and take care of that mess then at least wrap your hand up. You’ll get blood all over the carpet and I’m not gonna clean it up,” he ordered.

Goro refused to acknowledge the Arrancar, but did as told and wrapped Grimmjow’s jacket around his hand, ignoring the splinters that desperately need to be removed.

“Grimmjow we have to take care of Goro first. If those splinters aren’t removed quickly he could need surgery,” Ichigo said as he moved to stand up.

Grimmjow’s large hand took hold of Ichigo’s shoulder and pushed the human back down and held him in place. “You’re in worse condition than he is. Besides, he won’t have to deal with the pain for long. It’s my body, not his.”

The boy frowned. “But Grimmjow—.”

“Ichigo, he’s right,” Goro met Kurosaki’s eyes and smiled gently in encouragement, “Your condition is worse than mine. Kisuke can replace this body if need be, but he can’t replace yours. Let Jaegerjaquez help you.”

Kurosaki looked as if he was going to argue, but his face twisted in pain and his hand clawed at his shirt as if trying to relieve it.

“f*ck...okay, okay. I get it,” Ichigo sighed, his brows furrowing in a frustrated scowl, “I’m ready.”

Grimmjow cast a glance over his shoulder at Goro, but the Kaizō Konpaku was watching as his blood seeped through Grimmjow’s jacket and dyed the white fabric crimson. Loving someone was as messy and painful as those wounds.

What a f*cked up nuisance this all was.

The hand on Ichigo’s shoulder slipped down to his chest, pale fingers pushing away sunkissed digits. A pale white light spread underneath Grimmjow’s palm which in turn slowly consumed the human’s body and outlined the boy in an angelic glow. With a gentle nudge Kurosaki’s body slipped away, falling beside the Soul on the unmade bed with a long chain connecting the two.

It was worse than Grimmjow had suspected.

“What the hell is that?” Goro asked, unable to hide the disgust in his voice or on his face.

“I…,” Grimmjow swallowed dryly as his brows knitted together, “I don’t know.”

The Chain of Fate was hanging from Ichigo’s chest by a thread. Throughout the chain there were massive lacerations and chunks of metal missing from the links as if it were withering away...or decaying. Grimmjow carefully took hold of the chain and examined it. The chain was still attached to both body and soul, so it couldn’t be an encroachment that caused it. But there wasn’t anything else that could cause such damage.

Sadly, that wasn’t even the worst of it.

“f*ck...it hurts even more, now,” Ichigo cursed.

His fingers approached his chest and Grimmjow quickly swatted his hand away.

“Ow! What the hell—!”

Grimmjow took hold of Ichigo’s chin and forced the boy to look straight into his eyes. The boy froze, even his breathing stalled as his eyes widened at the sight of the Arrancar. If Grimmjow was still in his Gigai or the situation wasn’t so tense, he was sure his heart would have stuttered at the look in Kurosaki’s eyes. It had been five years since Ichigo has seen the real Grimmjow, mask and all, and Grimmjow wasn’t even able to enjoy it.

“Don’t look down yet, Kurosaki. Got it? I need to look at what’s causing you pain and I can’t do that if you’re freaking out. Alright?” Grimmjow ordered.

“You know that’s not exactly comforting, right?” Ichigo ask, voice growing tight with anxiety.

“Yeah, I know, it’s not my specialty. Just relax. If you’re breathing then you’re not dying. And even though you really shouldn’t…,” Grimmjow sighed and moved his hand to rest on the back of Ichigo’s neck, pressing his thumb under the corner of the boy’s jaw to keep the human’s eyes on him, “Trust me. Just for now.”

Ichigo nodded. “I don’t have any issues with that. I just want to know what’s freaking you out.”

Grimmjow parted his lips to defend himself, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t scared by any means. There wasn’t a reason to be scared. That didn’t mean he wasn’t wary. There was definitely reason for that.

Ichigo continued to search his blue eyes and Grimmjow’s resolve crumbled. He pulled his hand away and gestured for the boy to take a look, tightening his grip on the human’s wrist as a precaution.

Resting under the plate connecting the Chain of Fate to Kurosaki was a throbbing mass of slick tissue and muscle slowly consuming the boy’s chest. Purple veins pulsed along the startling white surface as the muscle held a slow and calm beat. The organ was unlike anything Grimmjow had seen before. He wasn’t sure anyone had seen anything like it. However, there was something familiar about it with the way it twitched and jumped.

It was almost like a heart.

“I don’t know what it is,” Grimmjow admitted, “Do you?”

“No. I don’t,” Ichigo said breathlessly. His eyes wouldn’t move away from the alien mass.

“It feels like it belongs to a Hollow. f*cking reeks of their scent. Whatever it is,” Goro said, his cold eyes shooting Grimmjow a glare.

“Don’t f*cking blame me for this,” Grimmjow snapped, “If I had done it I would know what the hell it is. Also, my spiritual pressure would be all over it. There’s no residue on this thing. We both know someone of my caliber can’t do anything without leaving evidence everywhere.”

He was right and Goro knew it. The Kaizō Konpaku scowled and turned his head to glare at the wall beside him, jaw clenched tightly. Great. When Grimmjow returned to that body not only was he going to have to deal with an injured hand, but most likely a headache too. And the bastard was ruining his jacket. Why the f*ck did he even offer it to him in the first place?

Pushing the thoughts and growing anger aside Grimmjow turned his eyes back to Ichigo’s chest. The human wouldn’t be able to stand much longer in his soul form. Lack of sleep and lack of food was catching up to him quickly and it was showing. The muscle surged and froze mid-beat, causing a curse to spill from Kurosaki’s lips as he cringed in pain. Grimmjow frowned as he waited for the growth to continue its steady beat, but it wouldn’t move. Odd. It obviously was part of Ichigo’s body, so logically when the muscle moved it would be taking nutrients from the human, which in theory should be what causes him pain. Instead, when the muscle stilled in its work that’s when Ichigo would wince. It didn’t make sense.

Then again he wasn’t a scientist.

Curiously, Grimmjow reached out slowly and gently brushed his fingertips over the slimy surface. The muscle jolted and began to pound rapidly as black and red bolts lashed out with each pump and singed the Arrancar’s pale fingertips.

“f*cking hell!” Grimmjow snarled as he ripped his hand away, releasing Ichigo, and took a step back. Flapping his hand in an attempt to cool the burns on his fingers he watched as bolts of red and black danced protectively over the heart in shocked awe. He knew that spiritual pressure. He had been burned by it before. A shiver rocked through his body from head to toe, pushing up goosebumps along the way and causing his hair to stand on end. Could it really be—

“Grimmjow? Are you okay?” Ichigo asked anxiously, his hands clutching his Chain of Fate as means to hold himself back from touching the Arrancar.

“I’m fine. Just a little burn, won’t even scar. Whatever this thing is, it’s not good. It looks like it has attached itself to your Soul and my guess is that it’s not gonna leave unless you die or we tear it out. We’ll need to speak to Urahara to find out what exactly it is,” Grimmjow said. He really didn’t want to see that man but at this rate there wasn’t anything else they could do.

“Why don’t you just tear it out? It’s obviously hurting Ichigo,” Goro asked with a scowl.

“There’s a few reasons. One, there’s no guarantee that Ichigo will survive if we tear it out. Two, his Chain of Fate is attached to the thing. Three, if it’s parasitic the thing can move onto someone else. Or it could be like a tick and leave part of its body behind to poison Kurosaki or grow back or whatever other horror you can come up with. In other words that will be Plan Z,” Grimmjow replied then examined his fingers. That growth had quite a bite to it, but as he thought it wasn’t severe enough to leave any permanent damage. Good thing, too. Kurosaki would have tortured himself over it if that wasn’t the case. He really didn’t need the brat tripping over himself to fix a problem that wasn’t even there.

Ichigo coughed again, gritting his teeth in pain. It was time for him to go back.

Grimmjow wrapped his fingers around Kurosaki’s wrist and heaved the body into a sitting position beside the ginger. “You ready to get back in your body?” he asked. As if the answer was going to be no.

“Hold on.”

A gentle hand took hold of the Arrancar’s wrist, keeping him from moving the body any further. Grimmjow blinked in surprise and lifted a brow in confusion as Ichigo stared at his face.

“What?” Grimmjow asked gruffly, growing frustrated by the silence.

He never thought he’d be annoyed by silence.

A brilliant smile blossomed across Ichigo’s face as the ginger chuckled, the sound causing Grimmjow’s ears to twitch, eager to hear the pleasing sound once more.

“Nothing. Just making sure I was right. I like you more with your mask, rather than without,” the ginger replied sweetly.

He waited for the biting joke or sarcastic crack at his race, but it never came. Ichigo’s words were genuine.

A light pink blush dusted Grimmjow’s cheeks at the compliment and it only grew darker when Ichigo’s eyes sparkled at the sight.

Of all the damn people in the world who could make him blush and it just had to be this asshole.

“Shut up and get back in your body, dumbass!” Grimmjow snapped as he shoved the body at Kurosaki.

He ignored the gingers wind chime laughter the same way he ignored Goro’s dark and jealous glare, by leaving with a dumb excuse and an order for Ichigo to clean Goro’s wounds.

He needed some air anyways.

~***~

“I get that you were pissed, but why did you have to punch the floor? I mean, I’m glad you didn’t hit Grimmjow a second time but getting all these splinters out is a pain in the ass and there’s a huge hole now. What were you two even fighting about anyways?” Ichigo huffed as he carefully pinched a piece of wood with tweezers and removed it from Goro’s knuckle.

“I’m tired of that bastard getting away with everything. He almost killed you,” Goro replied.

“I told you already, man. It was an accident,” Ichigo sighed.

“How can you be so sure? You couldn’t even see him!” Goro argued. Why did Ichigo defend the Arrancar so much? It didn’t make sense. That Arrancar had no redeeming qualities whatsoever but Ichigo practically praised the ground he walked on. It was annoying and unfair. Jaegerjaquez didn’t deserve kind words from someone like Ichigo.

“I couldn’t see him but...I don’t know. His spiritual pressure just felt...panicked,” Ichigo murmured, his hands pausing on their mission to clean Goro’s wounds, “I’ve fought Grimmjow three times before and I’ve never felt his spiritual pressure like that. He’s not the type that would use spiritual pressure alone to beat someone, in his eyes that wouldn’t show his true strength. It seemed like...he was defending himself. I could feel it. I think, somehow, I triggered a bad memory.”

A revolting taste stained Goro’s tongue. He hated the way Ichigo spoke of the Arrancar. It seemed like he was talking about an old friend rather than his enemy. Like he couldn’t see who Jaegerjaquez really was. Human features and voice aside the man was still a Hollow. He still had a hole in his body and he wore a mask on his face. He was a monster. Why couldn’t Ichigo see that?

“I like you more with your mask, rather than without.”

That was the problem. He did see it, but Ichigo didn’t care. He saw something in the Arrancar that redeemed him. Goro had no clue of what that was. So far he hadn’t seen a single good thing in the Arrancar. At first he had found Jaegerjaquez’s refusal to truly battle Ichigo until he regained his strength admirable, until he pulled that recent stunt that almost killed Ichigo. That incident could still kill him, actually. Goro wasn’t sure that thing in Ichigo’s chest hadn’t been caused by the Arrancar. In fact it was too coincidental for it not to be.

Careful fingertips brushed across his tender skin and pulled Goro from his thoughts as he watched the ginger. Ichigo’s brows were furrowed deep in thought as he gently turned Goro’s hand this way and that in search for any remaining splinters. Finding nothing Ichigo soaked a cotton swab in alcohol and gave Goro a caring smile.

“This will sting a bit, but not for long. Promise,” Ichigo said.

Goro nodded, unable to say anything after seeing that smile. He didn’t have much to compare it to but even if he did he would still claim Ichigo to have the most beautiful smile out of anyone in the four worlds. In fact, Goro was positive Ichigo was the epitome of beauty. He doubted anything could rival this gorgeous human. Tall and sculpted like a god. Long orange hair that glowed under light. Skin that had been kissed by the sun and littered with a wonderful flourish of freckles. Deep brown eyes with twinkling stars and a voice that consumed Goro like a warm blanket. Ichigo’s soft touch. His caring words. His loving personality...no one could ever exceed this human’s beauty.

Orange bangs blocked Ichigo’s vision, causing the boy to grunt in irritation as he tried to blow them away. It was useless, of course. Before the human could try again Goro reached out with his unharmed hand and brushed the bangs from Ichigo’s eyes, tucking them behind the ginger’s ear. Even the skin on Kurosaki’s ear was soft. Ridiculous.

Ichigo blinked at Goro in surprise as a weak smile crawled onto his lips, “Ah, thanks.”

Goro hummed in return, “Anytime, Ichigo.”

The boy eventually returned his eyes to the task at hand, but Goro’s gaze never strayed from the man before him. Ichigo practically saw Grimmjow as a human. Did Ichigo think of Goro the same way?

“Don’t f*cking use me as an excuse. Ask him now or don’t ask at all. I have nothing to do with it.”

Jaegerjaquez was as annoying in his memories as he was in person. At least Goro could use his words against him. The Arrancar was convinced he had nothing to do with his feelings towards Ichigo, but his words were about the be the exact reason why Goro confesses.

“There, that should do it. How does it feel, Goro?” Ichigo asked with a dazzling smile as he finished tying the gauze in place.

Goro’s pale fingers traced along Ichigo’s jaw, wishing that the ginger had shaved so he could feel the smooth skin below. His hand cupped the side of Ichigo’s face, his fingers sliding behind the boy’s ear and pushing his bangs free as he tilted the human’s head back, making their gazes lock. Those gorgeous eyes widened, exposing more stars to the light that poured through the glass doors. Ichigo’s hair consumed that light, turning each strand of hair into an untamable fire that felt soft against Goro’s fingertips instead of burning his flesh. He heard Ichigo’s breath hitch as he leaned in. Felt the boy’s pulse race under his pinky. Saw those unbelievably pink lips part as his lips drew close, causing Goro to shake with an unexplainable thrill as Ichigo’s breath ghosted over his skin. Long fingers brushed over Goro’s chest and his heart skipped a beat. It was perfect. Ichigo was perfect. They were perfect together. The Arrancar was a thing of the past. He meant nothing.

The hand resting on his chest grabbed a fistful of his shirt and—...pushed him back?

A mere centimeter away from kissing Ichigo’s lips and he was stopped. Why?

“G-Goro...I can’t.”

A piercing ring filled Goro’s ears as his body turned to stone.

Ichigo gulped nervously as he struggled to keep eye contact, failing over and over again as his eyes continued to fall to the floor.

“I’m...I’m really sorry, Goro. I just...can’t do that,” Ichigo said honestly as an embarrassed blush overtook his cheeks.

Why? Why couldn’t he? Was it because he was a Kaizō Konpaku? Or because he didn’t technically have a body of his own? It couldn’t have been his appearance. He looked exactly like that blasted Arrancar, and he was a helluva lot nicer to boot and he was one of the good guys. He knew he wasn’t perfect, he would never claim to be, but he knew he wasn’t less than f*cking Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. So why?

“Would you have pulled away if I were Grimmjow?” Goro murmured.

One question revealed the answer without Ichigo saying a word. The blush on the ginger’s face claimed every inch of his visible skin and his shy eyes grew wider with the truth.

Grimmjow was a f*cking dumbass.

He had everything to do with this.

“Ah,” a sad smile dusted over Goro’s lips as he slowly pulled his hand away, “I understand. Guess I overstepped my boundaries. Pretty f*cking embarrassing, eh?”

Ichigo frowned as he tightened his grip on Goro’s shirt, and unknowingly on Goro’s heart.

“Goro, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I mean, I’m honestly flattered that you would find me—.”

“Kidding!” Goro laughed, an enormous grin splitting his face in two, “I was just playin’ with ya, Ichi. Today’s been a rough day for you and I figured I’d joke around a bit. Obviously I have some work to do on my standup.”

Goro removed Ichigo’s hand from his shirt and stood up, still smiling even as the muscles began to ache. “I’ll tell Grimmjow that he can have his body back. You get some rest, okay?”

Long fingers snagged the edge of his shirt and held Goro in place.

This had been such a mistake.

“Goro I know this wasn’t a joke. Even if it embarrasses the hell outta both of us we have to talk about it,” Ichigo replied.

The smile on Goro’s face cracked and fractured. His heart ached as he resisted the need to take hold of Ichigo’s hand, and resisted the greater need to cry like the baby he truly was. He hadn’t been able to cry when his brother died. He might as well make up for it now.

“I know you see right through me, Ichigo. You’re too damn smart not to. But...please humor me. I want to forget all of this. Just pretend it was all a bad joke...for me. Please,” Goro asked, seconds away from begging if he had too.

Luckily he hadn’t.

Ichigo eventually released his shirt and gave Goro a polite nod.

“A joke, then,” Ichigo agreed.

Goro smiled at the unattainable human.

He really was just a joke.

Chapter 29: Stories That Should Have Been Told

Chapter Text

Grimmjow picked at his nails as he ignored the pain in his bandaged hand. He stared at them as if they were the most interesting things he had ever seen in his life, when in reality he was trying to keep his eyes off of Kurosaki. He had never seen the ginger look like this before. Sure, he had seen Ichigo angry, but he had never seen the boy livid before. The look itself was terrifying. The reason behind it even worse.

It all started when they visited Urahara. They had hoped the scientist could look Kurosaki over and come up with some out of the box solution to fix him, but unfortunately that’s not what happened. The blonde took one look at Ichigo’s chest and within seconds the Ex-Soul Reaper appeared to be the old man he truly was. He knew what was ailing Ichigo, but he had no true idea on how to fix it. All he could do was advise Ichigo to speak to his father.

So they did.

Ichigo hadn’t wasted time on pleasantries and demanded answers from Isshin, while Grimmjow stood leaningagainst the other side of the wall. Isshin told him everything. He told Ichigo how he used to be a captain of the Gotei Thirteen, and his last name had been Shiba. He explained why he came to the World of the Living and the Hollow that was causing trouble. He spoke of Ichigo’s mother. What she looked like. How she made him feel. How she protected him even though he was a Soul Reaper, and she a Quincy, from the very Hollow that now resided inside Ichigo’s chest. The very Hollow Grimmjow had faced in their battles. The same Hollow who gave Ichigo enough power to mark Grimmjow’s body with scars. Then the story bled into explaining Masaki’s death, and by then Grimmjow knew Isshin wasn’t going to hear from Ichigo for many years to come.

He hadn’t been able to see Ichigo, but he didn’t need to. His spiritual pressure was small, yet it roared with anger, sorrow, confusion and betrayal. Soon he screamed those feelings toward his father until his body couldn’t take it anymore and stormed out of the clinic, dragging Grimmjow along with a tight grip on his wrist.

That brought them to where they were now. Ichigo glaring at the road, refusing to speak as he clutched the steering wheel in an iron grip, as if he was imagining strangling a certain parental. Then Grimmjow, who was avoiding Ichigo’s gaze at all costs, traced the bruise beginning to purple on his wrist. Ichigo wasn’t able to control his strength so well when he was angry. Although Grimmjow was sure Ichigo was going to spend days on end apologizing to him once his anger was gone. As if he really needed it. This side of Kurosaki—the angry and violent and brutal side—was who Grimmjow understood. He didn’t need an apology for this. For the first time in five years they were speaking the same language.

The Arrancar’s light blue eyes peered over at the ginger.

All this time he thought Ichigo had a bleeding heart, when in fact he was just trying to prevent others from feeling the same pain he did. The same pain he was suffering from, and would probably always suffer from.

It was amazing he was still in one piece. Grimmjow rested his headagainst the window as he searched Ichigo’s dark eyes and stroked the bruise on his wrist. “As frightening as it sounds...you’re starting to make sense to me, Kurosaki.”

Chapter 30: A Weird Distraction

Chapter Text

It was almost poetic.

Beautiful words strung together in a melodic line that twisted and burned from sour notes. Dark sonnets made of poisonous flowers. A tragic tale written by Shakespeare, one full of betrayal from a family member and discovered family ties. Except this time the story wasn’t bound in a thick hardback cover that rested on the dusty bookshelf in the living room among the other classic tales created by a dead englishman. This story was alive and thriving. A bloodsucking parasite that latched onto Kurosaki’s mind and filled him with confusion and despair. Unlike in fiction, this tragic hero wasn’t in danger of being harmed nor had he caused his own pain, but that reality only made his suffering worse.

Acidic sadness poured from Kurosaki in thick waves. It filled the room and painted the walls with black muck, aided by the black night sky. The lush green covers on the human’s side of the bed laid twisted at his feet, the lumpy form mocking that of a mangled carcass in the beginning stages of decay. As it were every night, the only source of light came from the moon and the stars. However tonight the stars seemed to hide their presence while the moonlight pierced through the darkness with long, cold fingers. A harsh shiver overtook Grimmjow’s body as the moon’s claws scratched his skin, the sensation reminding him of the moon in Hueco Mundo. He pulled the covers higher over his shoulder, thankful that the sheets on the bed were helping warm his cold skin. He should start considering wearing a shirt to bed. Grimmjow’s blue eyes shimmered in the darkness. Despite the terrible lighting he could still see Kurosaki clearly.

The boy was freezing. That much was obvious. His body trembled and shook like he had been struck by lightning. Yet Kurosaki made no attempt to warm himself. Instead he pressed his hunched back against the headboard with his knees drawn suffocatingly close to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and the ginger’s face hidden deep in a protective wall of arms. The boy was either trying to hold himself together or make himself crumble apart. Either way he was allowing his body to suffer while his mind fell into turmoil.

It was time for him to step in. He had hoped Kurosaki would fix himself, but honestly Grimmjow shouldn’t have expected that much self care from the boy.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Grimmjow murmured, his voice softer than he had ever heard from himself before, “You’re all over the place, kid. You need to calm down or else you’ll snap.”

Kurosaki’s body continued to shake and Grimmjow sighed, believing his words hadn’t gotten through to the stubborn ginger. Before he could say anything more Ichigo’s body suddenly stilled.

“I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about any of it,” Ichigo replied, his voice muffled by his own skin.

It was the first time Ichigo had spoken since they returned to the apartment. It was odd. Grimmjow never thought he would be relieved to hear someone’s voice.

“Can’t you...try?” Grimmjow offered lamely. He didn’t know what else to say. He had never had his whole world turned upside down like Kurosaki had. At least, not from what he remembered. His human life was literally a lifetime ago. He didn’t remember a thing about being a Soul, and he was a mindless Hollow for so long that change hadn’t affected him. Consoling people wasn’t his thing, either.

“How can I? Everything I knew—my whole damn life has been a lie, Grimmjow,” Ichigo spat through his teeth. Honey dipped brown eyes flashed, slicing through the darkness like daggers as they were exposed to the night and burned dark holes on the mattress. Grimmjow had never seen those eyes before. They were cold and unforgiving—a sight that looked alien on Kurosaki’s sweet face. The Arrancar wasn’t sure how he felt about them.

“My father lied to me. My father was a f*cking captain of the Gotei Thirteen and he never told me. How the f*ck can someone just hide something like that? I understand why he wouldn’t tell me that stuff when I was a kid—actually, no, I can’t even excuse that. I grew up talking to ghosts because I couldn’t even tell the difference between them and the living. I was bullied and beaten for that kind of sh*t. He had plenty of opportunities to tell me everything! He could have helped me! My dad just watched me endanger myself, fully aware of everything that was going on, and never interfered! He let me spend my summer fighting for my life and the lives of my friends in a f*cking war without saying a single word to stop me!” Ichigo’s tense body slowly deflated as his anger slowly drained away, “Even...even if he had said something I still would have rescued Rukia. I don’t regret that at all. He just...should have told me that I wasn’t a freak.”

As much as Kurosaki covered it up, or tried to, being thrown into the world of Soul Reapers and Hollows had left a resentful mark on his heart. The boy loved having the power to protect his friends, but having fought in two wars at the young age of fifteen with only a few weeks worth of training under his belt caused a massive toll. Both physically and mentally. Grimmjow fully understood why Kurosaki was so angry. He had been used to clean up bloody messes the Soul Reapers had created and it wasn’t his place to do so.

“And my dad was a Shiba. A Shiba. Family means everything to me. If I had known that I was a Shiba, meeting Kūkaku and Ganju would have meant so much more to me. I feel like a f*cking idiot for not seeing it sooner. I saw a picture of Kaien. I look exactly like him except for the black hair and blue eyes. Of course that wasn’t a f*cking coincidence,” Ichigo growled, his anger boiling once more, “So, I guess I’ve lost two relatives to Hollows.”

He was spiraling.

“Kurosaki—.”

“And the mother f*cking cherry on top is my mother. She couldn’t have been just some normal human my father fell in love with, oooh no, she had to be a Quincy. A Quincy who risked her life to save my f*cking father from a f*cking Hollow that is either part of me or trying to take over my body. As if that’s new,” Ichigo scoffed.

“Kurosaki you—.”

“What the hell am I? Do you know? Because I have no f*cking clue. Is something like me even supposed to exist? If not then my f*cked up life suddenly makes perfect f*cking sense,” Ichigo snarled.

Grimmjow said nothing. He waited as the steaming rage in Kurosaki dissipated and was replaced with another wave of quiet and confused grief. Giving the boy a few extra seconds to completely cool down, Grimmjow finally responded.

“Don’t think about it. S’not doing you any good. In fact thinking about it is giving you an identity crisis,” Grimmjow replied before lowering his voice to a gentle whisper with a sigh, “You were lied to and fooled—you have every right to be pissed off—but the past isn’t gonna change no matter how pissed off you are. Human, Soul Reaper, Hollow or Quincy, none of that matters. You’re Ichigo Kurosaki. You fight to protect anyone and anything from danger despite who they are; and pretty much everyone who comes in contact with you becomes your ally. That’s who you are and that’s all you need to know. Now sleep. Otherwise I’m not gonna be able to.”

He didn’t expect his words to magically heal Kurosaki, but he wished that they would work well enough to convince the boy to sleep. He looked awful. A few days without shaving and many nights without sleep wasn’t a good look for him.

Sunkissed fingers combed through tangled bangs and exposed Kurosaki’s forehead as brown irises turned to the Arrancar. The lost and frantic gleam in those eyes were painful to look at. “Why would my mom hide the truth from me?” Ichigo whispered, voice cracking as a lump filled his throat.

Those brown eyes tore themselves from Grimmjow’s gaze and once again Ichigo’s face was hidden in his arms, his body shivering from more than just the cold.

This boy’s life was a poetic mess. A dramatic, theatrical storm that soap opera lovers would drool over. Too bad Grimmjow f*cking hated poetry and drama. It was time for this sh*t to end.

With a sigh Grimmjow pushed himself up and propped himself on his elbow as he scowled lightly at the boy. “Kurosaki, you need to stop. Torturing yourself by trying to figure out why your parents did what they did is only going to harm you. Parents are made to f*ck up their kids’ lives. It’s in their nature. At least that’s what every kid on television claims,” Grimmjow scoffed.

Kurosaki ignored his words and curled into a tight ball. Clearly talking to him wasn’t doing jack sh*t to help. What else was there for Grimmjow to do? Smacking the boy upside the head would only start a fight and with the mood the ginger was in Grimmjow didn’t dare take him on. Not while he was powerless in this damn Gigai. With a tired sigh Grimmjow sat up and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Thinking was the damn brat’s problem. If he were to shut off his damn brain for five seconds he’d actually live in peace. If the Arrancar had to guess he’d say that the human’s “relax switch” had been smashed to pieces long ago. Still, there had to be something Grimmjow could do.

His pale hands fell away and his blue eyes landed on Kurosaki once more. If he didn’t do something fast the ginger was sure to self destruct. Hell, his nails were already leaving deep scratches on his arms.

“Kurosaki, stop,” Grimmjow ordered as he took hold of the human’s wrist and pulled his arm away from his face, “You’re gonna hurt yourself, which is really f*cking stupid because that’s my job.”

Still no response.

With a scowl Grimmjow tightened his grip on Ichigo as he moved to sit in front of the boy and grabbed his other wrist. “Snap out of it, dumbass. It’s not the end of the world. Turn off your damn brain for once. You overthink everything,” Grimmjow demanded.

When the Arrancar pulled Ichigo’s other arm away and exposed his face the boy didn’t react as if he hadn’t been disturbed. Those once brilliant and infuriating brown eyes were now dark and soulless as they gazed upon the mattress. The stars in those irises had collapsed and left his gaze cold and stranded as the universe collapsed around him. Devoid of light, yellow flakes turned red and appeared upon the brown pigment like blood coating mud. They were the same eyes Kurosaki had worn after Ulquiorra blew a hole in his chest. Cold. Dead. Unseeing. As if the boy was all alone.

As if Grimmjow wasn't even there.

Grimmjow’s eyelid twitched as he grew impatient. He was tired and frustrated and most importantly—tired. He was sick of playing this game.

“Kurosaki, either you clear your mind and go to sleep or I’ll make you. Your choice, bucko,” Grimmjow growled.

Kurosaki still refused to speak.

Grimmjow’s eye twitched again. “You asked for it, asshole,” he growled.

Despite what most people thought of him, Grimmjow didn’t live by pure instinct alone. He wasn’t a newborn Hollow who roamed the streets of the World of the Living in constant search of its next meal. He had evolved beyond those primitive measures of survival. He lived by meticulous plans and followed them faithfully to reach his goal. Instincts were just a last resort he usually reserved for a tight pinch in battle. But he was so exhausted and drained in the damn Gigai that he couldn’t even formulate any steps to reach a goal. All Grimmjow wanted was for Kurosaki to turn off that damn brain of his and look at him and listen for once. So he fell into the familiar arms of Instinct and did as she commanded, even if he knew she was leading him down the wrong path.

When his pale hands framed Kurosaki’s face and thick stubble scratched the skin on his palms, shooting an electrified shiver down his spine—he knew it was massive mistake. There wasn’t an excuse for what he was about to do. He could claim that he had finally lost his mind after all these years, but even he couldn’t fool himself with such a lie. Decades upon decades of devouring his brethren and having his body broken and torn inside out—no one would believe he lost his mind from tilting Ichigo’s head back as he breathed in the boy’s sweet breath. He had to be honest with himself. The thought of being invisible to Ichigo’s eyes drove him mad. He despised it so much that a growl tore through his throat as he pulled the boy close, smashing his lips against Ichigo’s in a violent kiss.

It only lasted two seconds. That’s all the time Grimmjow would allow, but somehow it felt like an eternity. In that one small moment Grimmjow’s senses were overwhelmed. Each little hair on Ichigo’s face shot shocking bolts of electricity through his arms, encouraging him to hold on tighter or risk losing himself. Those pink lips were not only as soft and firm as he expected but the heat they radiated banished the midnight chill from Grimmjow’s body and consumed him with a pleasant fire. He wanted to chase that heat. To swallow it and claim it as his own while Kurosaki’s damn facial hair continued to tease his sensitive skin. He wanted it...but those two seconds ended as he broke their kiss quickly and pulled away, only his hands remaining on the human’s face.

Distracting Ichigo had worked. Life had returned to his eyes. The brown irises blossomed with flaming stars and oozed a cavity inducing amount of rich honey and cinnamon. Everything that stained his eyes before were wiped clean and replaced with emotions that better suited him. They were burning, they were alive, and they were staring at Grimmjow as if he were the only thing Kurosaki could see.

That. That right there. That’s the look he wanted to see on Kurosaki’s face. Everything forgotten—family, friends, and responsibilities all pushed from his mind. All of Kurosaki’s attention, all of his focus, directed at his opponent. His enemy. The one and only Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

“G-Grimmjow?” Ichigo stammered as his eyes began to move, searching the Arrancar’s face and scrambling to put the pieces together.

The trick was keeping those eyes on him, which meant shutting down the boy’s brain for once in his chaotic life. Kurosaki needed a distraction. A shocking one at that.

Pale fingers intertwined with thick orange hair, the texture cluttering Grimmjow’s mind with thoughts praising the heavenly structure of each strand, as he took hold of Kurosaki’s jaw and kissed him once again. This time it felt like he had been struck by lightning. Heat from Kurosaki’s lips tore through his body with ease and ignited a dull fire in his belly. His fingers tightened on perfect orange hair and pulled, the responding mewl causing an excited shiver to roll through his bones. This time the kiss didn’t break. It couldn’t break.

Especially not when Ichigo started to kiss back.

Suddenly Grimmjow felt mediocre and inadequate. When the human kissed him everything was amplified and charged with expertise. It was no secret that Arrancar had little to no experience with any form of friendly physical contact among one another. Breeding—and everything that came with it—wasn’t needed for the survival of the Hollow race. In fact Grimmjow doubted natural reproduction was even possible for them. However, just because it wasn’t needed didn’t mean the initial desire wasn’t there. Grimmjow had been one of the few who happened to act upon those desires, but the opportunities to do so were limited. Unfortunately for him it was showing.

His ego was bruised but he had to admit—at least to himself—that Kurosaki’s skill far exceeded his own. Annoyed by this and not wanting to be bested, Grimmjow caught the boy’s lower lip between his teeth and pulled long hair, smirking when Ichigo emitted a desired groan. It was funny. Ichigo’s voice used to grate on his nerves and every time they fought he wanted nothing more than to silence him. Now he couldn’t get enough of the sounds pouring from his throat. They were addictive. Each groan and whimper caused the heat in his belly to boil—but Grimmjow wanted more.

With each slow kiss Ichigo began to unfurl with a silent invitation. His long legs lowered and extended, allowing Grimmjow closer until the Arrancar’s large thighs rested on each side of his hips. Ichigo’s breath hitched, his hands fisting the sheets below them as Grimmjow seated himself comfortably in the boy’s lap. A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips. His powerful hand pushed on the boy’s chest and shoved him onto the large mattress. With hardly any effort at all he had managed to pin Ichigo on his back. It was impossible not to grin at the sight. Tangled orange hair mussed by Grimmjow’s own hands. Perfect lips moistened by a pink tongue, the freckle hidden by the rosey color of his bite. Face flushed. Breaths heavy and panting from pleasure. Those brown eyes glazed with thinly veiled lust. The kid may have had more experience than him, but he sure did fluster easy.

Grimmjow liked that a lot more than he should have.

Sharp blue eyes watched as Ichigo gulped, his adam's apple bobbing while his fingers clawed deep into a thick, impressionable foam layer. He wasn’t scared. He didn’t want to run either, but he wasn’t making any advances. He was holding himself back. The kid was shy. Almost timid. The thought alone made the Arrancar snicker.

“Since when did ya turn chicken?” Grimmjow taunted.

“Not chicken. Just careful,” Ichigo replied, a small smile improving his perfect lips and erasing the evidence of many sleepless nights from below his eyes, “One wrong move and I could become a panther’s lunch.”

It was impossible to stop the grin that split his face in two. As if he wanted to stop it. Most people cowered away from such a frightening smile. For some reason it only made Kurosaki smile in return. He liked that.

“How about this,” Grimmjow purred as he pressed himself closer go the ginger, tugging on his hair once again and practically buzzing at the returned groan, “You stop being a chicken and I promise not to bite you when you cross a line...at least not much.”

He didn’t give Kurosaki enough time to answer before crushing their lips in another kiss.

Ichigo’s hands immediately sought out his body. Apparently a little encouragement was enough to push the boy into action. Warm hands pressed against Grimmjow’s chest, the heat radiating through his palms relaxing the tight muscle underneath, causing the Arrancar to hum in appreciation. Ever so slowly those hands carefully traveled down his body. As per usual, the boy’s touch triggered a wave of goosebumps to wash over his flesh. Calloused fingertips traced every dip and curve of his muscle, like a sculptor appreciating their own creation after it had finally been completed. Overworked hands with a soft and delicate touch. No one had ever touched him like that before. Then again no one had ever really touched him before. His Fracción had, on occasion. It was mostly during training. Then there was a time or two where one of them touched him intimately like Kurosaki currently was, but they were never gentle. Grimmjow hadn’t allowed them to be. They were getting rid of primal urges not falling in love. But there was still another difference between Ichigo’s hands and that of his Fracción.

The body of an Arrancar is extremely tough. They are built to withstand sharp swords and penetrative teeth of Hollows. Daily wear and tear wasn’t an issues for them no matter how repetitive and strenuous. No matter how many times an Arrancar trained or fought—unless a blow had seriously wounded them—they never obtained callouses. At least not easily. His Fracción and himself—for the lack of a better term—all had relatively soft skin. Decades upon decades of weilding a sword and fighting tooth and claw and Grimmjow’s hands still felt smooth like he hadn’t worked a day in his life. Kurosaki was different. It was five years ago, and his time as a Soul Reaper only lasted a few months, but Kurosaki had the hands of a warrior. They weren’t soft. They were rough. Without seeing his scars it would have been hard to believe that this pretty boy caused so much chaos in two wars, but his hands instantly gave him away. They were powerful and battleworn—far stronger than anyone would expect. That’s what he liked about Kurosaki. The kid was unpredictable.

Which is why Grimmjow never considered Kurosaki to be forward enough to brush his thumb over the Arrancar’s nipple, causing his breath to hitch.

Misinterpreting the sound Ichigo tried to pull back, his hands started to peel from Grimmjow’s body as the beginnings of an apology balanced on the tip of his tongue. With a low rumbling growl Grimmjow sank his teeth deep into Ichigo’s lip, his sharp canine slicing into the vulnerable skin and making Ichigo gasp as blood poured from the small wound. Taking advantage of the opening Grimmjow brushed his tongue over the cut, a small apology before he slipped his tongue inside the ginger’s mouth.

Grimmjow considered himself to have a lot of self control—maybe not when it came to violence or his temper—but he couldn’t stop himself from moaning. The boy’s taste was intoxicating. His red blood buzzed sweetly on his tongue, bursting with spices that reminded Grimmjow of his and Kurosaki’s last battle. That power Kurosaki had nearly destroyed him. Every deep laceration from Tensa Zangetsu and the blade’s terrifying Getsuga Tenshō ripped blood from his veins and sprayed the air with a fine mist he swallowed with every breath. Of course he had done the same to Kurosaki in return. By the end of their battle his tongue had been soaked with the sweet and bitter blend of their blood that he craved to taste again. That memory alone caused the fire in his belly to roar.

Heated fingers with blunt nails raked down his back, scratching his sensitive spine, and caused Grimmjow to shudder violently. His skin erupted with a new layer of goosebumps and every muscle in his body twitched and jerked as he fought with every fiber of his being to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head.

Holy sh*t.

“f*ck,” Grimmjow moaned, breaking their kiss as his body continued to tremble.

He didn’t dare open his eyes. Reacting like this from a simple touch was bad enough. He didn’t need to see the brat’s judgmental face to be ashamed of himself. This was one of the many reasons why he had only trusted his Fracción to be intimate with. His all too eager noises and embarrassing sensitivity wasn’t something he wanted to broadcast and boast.

“f*ck, you’re gorgeous.”

Grimmjow’s eyes snapped open.

Ichigo’s lustful gaze stared back at him. He was calm—far more calm than Grimmjow had ever seen before. Or expected. All of Kurosaki’s thoughts had been completely shut off. He wasn’t lying and he wasn’t playing a game. Without overthinking he was merely speaking his mind. He meant what he said.

Long fingers scratched down his spine once more and Grimmjow groaned with a pathetic curse, wasting no time to kiss Ichigo once again to mute himself.

Kissing didn’t mean sh*t. Grimmjow was merely trying to distract Kurosaki and nothing more. He had succeeded and now the boy wasn’t tearing himself apart. None of this meant anything.

Yet, for some reason, when the ginger’s tongue teased his and when those fingers continued to scratch his spine over and over and over again until all the Arrancar could do was groan and fight back the urge to drool—Grimmjow felt that he had distracted himself, too.

Chapter 31: The Shift

Chapter Text

There had been a shift in their reality. It was subtle, almost indiscernible from how things had always been, but it was there. Grimmjow could feel it. Taste it. There definitely wasn’t a romantic relationship between him and Kurosaki. There never could be, but the Arrancar couldn’t deny that they had become oddly comfortable with one another.

Before, if Kurosaki looked at him for too long or dared to touch him in any way Grimmjow would snap by slapping away Kurosaki’s fingers and snarling threats to turn his gaze. Now...things were different. Ichigo’s brown eyes seemed to follow every move he made and his fingers actively sought out Grimmjow’s cold skin—and the Arrancar wasn’t upset by it. He literally couldn’t be. Every time he found those eyes watching him, Grimmjow enjoyed the human’s gaze. He liked being noticed. He liked being the center of Kurosaki’s attention. He was finally more important than anyone else. No friend or foe would be able to divert the human’s attention and Grimmjow relished it.

Even more shocking—he didn’t mind how often Ichigo touched him. Many, many weeks ago when they had first reunited, if the ginger wasn’t touching him because they were fighting he would hiss violent promises until those long fingers retreated. Now it was almost...normal. Those calloused fingers still caused his body to burn and banished the ice from his veins, but now he never felt the need to evade the sensation. In fact lately Grimmjow found himself leaning into Kurosaki’s touch. In a sense he savored it. It was hard not to. Although those hands were powerful and rough, they were careful and considerate and never took whatever they wanted. Kurosaki’s hands were usually beneficial to Grimmjow rather than the human. For instance, the past few days he had been woken by Kurosaki’s fingertips scratching his wide back—side to side, back and forth, slowly and gently—gradually introducing Grimmjow back to reality as his mind pulled from a sleepy fog. If he had fallen asleep at an odd angle and the muscles in his neck or shoulders grew tight, Ichigo’s keen eyes would spot the discomfort and his hands would massage the pain away. When he grew cold a simple brush of Kurosaki’s thumb on his wrist warmed him. When he was tired but found it impossible to rest—he didn’t know how Kurosaki knew when he couldn’t unwind—a warm palm would cup his cheek and eased him to sleep. Of course that one didn’t happen often because it was a really f*cking weird thing for Kurosaki to do. Then there were instances such as waking up in the middle of the night to find their backs pressed together, or Kurosaki’s hand touching his side, or even the boy’s cheek resting on his shoulder. It shouldn’t have been that easy for Ichigo to touch him, and he shouldn’t be so okay with it, but that’s how it was.

Granted, that was mostly due to how close they were allowing each other to get for a little distraction.

Kurosaki overthought everything. Doing so made him panic, grow angry, and feel lost. Pulling him away from himself was a task left to Grimmjow and he did the only thing he could that wouldn’t make things worse. Kissing had become as natural as breathing for them. Grimmjow noticed that while he had a habit of biting lips, Kurosaki had a habit of sucking on them—especially if they were bleeding. With Grimmjow’s extremely sharp canines and thoughtless clumsiness it wasn’t rare for one or both of them to come away from a kiss with a split lip. Their distractions also tended to get rather familiar with each other’s bodies. Honestly, two make out sessions had given both of them far more information about each other than their three battles combined ever had. Kurosaki liked having his hair pulled and his neck forcefully exposed, both causing a rather low and attractive groan to push through his throat. His sides were sensitive to the point where he trembled whenever fingers grazed over his waist. He favored having his hips held down by large hands, and even though Grimmjow would never go lower than that, when his fingers brushed over the beginnings of Ichigo’s thighs he had seen how those legs immediately responded by spreading further apart.

While he learned these things about Kurosaki the boy learned things about him too. Grimmjow’s back (particularly the spine) was a major erogenous zone for him. He took full advantage of it, too. Meeting Ichigo’s lips was always followed by fingers raking down his spine, teasing the bone segment by segment. Despite his pathetic response of shaking limbs and drool coating his loose tongue, Kurosaki never looked down on him for it. He actually seemed to like seeing Grimmjow that way, and not for malicious or sad*stic reasons. The human also quickly discovered how sensitive his jaw was to teeth and how he shivered when fingers stroked above and behind his ears. Probably the most embarrassing one for Kurosaki to know of was his chest. After their first kiss the human had quickly gotten over his previous timidity and no longer had problems with touching his scars and squeezing his chest as if he had more there than he really did. Not that Grimmjow wasn’t aware of how muscular and large his pecs were compared to most. Admittedly they were a bit hard to ignore. Especially after Kurosaki claimed he had the “male equivalent of double D breasts” with a smug smirk adorning his lips. Yeah. That earned him a swift punch to the kidney.

Grimmjow knew these developments should concern him. He couldn’t deny that the change was dangerous. They were both guilty of treating one another as a comrade instead of an enemy. But Grimmjow found himself unable to focus on such a small problem while another screamed in his face.

Kurosaki wasn’t eating.

Grimmjow understood skipping a day or two, but they were approaching dangerous territory by exceeding five. When Grimmjow had first brought it up Ichigo had dismissed him by claiming he wasn’t hungry and stated that the human body could survive up to twenty-one days without food. As the Arrancar continued to press him the boy became defensive. Suddenly he was too busy catching up with schoolwork to consider eating. Or he was going into work for a few hours, just long enough to earn a few bucks, and didn’t have time to eat a meal. He always had an excuse.

Always.

That is, until Grimmjow cornered him and demanded for the truth.

He never thought five simple words would cause his blood to freeze.

“It all tastes like ash.”

Chapter 32: Shutting Up a Death God

Chapter Text

It all tastes like ash.

Blunt nails sank deep into a beaten and well worn pillow as a concerned scowl weighed upon Grimmjow’s furrowed brow. He hadn’t said anything to Kurosaki but that was one of many signs of becoming a Hollow. The boy was still connected to his body so it was natural for him to feel hunger, but food tasting like ash was not. To make matters worse the strange heart in Kurosaki’s chest had grown by at least two inches. The Hollow was trying to consume him, body and soul. Whatever balance they had five years ago was gone and there was no denying that the ginger was in grave danger. What could they do? This kind of situation had never existed before Kurosaki. Neither of them knew how to handle it. Kurosaki didn’t know sh*t about his Hollow because he spent more time being afraid of it rather than communicating, and Grimmjow had never seen anything like this before. There hadn’t been anyone like Kurosaki before. It was like they discovered a new life threatening disease with no leads on how to cure it or any ideas of what will happen besides inevitable death. The whole situation was soaked in uncertainty which in turn made Grimmjow beyond anxious. At this rate it was more likely Kurosaki was going to be killed by his own Hollow rather than Grimmjow. That thought alone filled him with dread.

Ichigo’s breath hitched, the action quickly followed by a desperate groan. Grimmjow sighed and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. The ginger having a nightmare was the last thing either of them needed right now. They both needed sleep. Physically the boy was doing much better. He only showed major signs of illness while outside of his body, but there was no telling how long that luck would last. To be perfectly blunt Grimmjow was more concerned about Kurosaki’s mental state than he was of the physical. Especially with his nightmares returning after a small break of nights filled with actual sleep. He could ignore it and opt to sleep on the couch...but neither of them would benefit from that. Even when he couldn’t hear the ginger’s distress he could always feel it in his bones. Not to mention he would rather sleep on a pile of rocks and swords than sleep on that damn couch. Waking Kurosaki and calming him down was the only option Grimmjow had.

With an exhausted sigh the Arrancar turned onto his side, the human’s name balanced on the very tip of his tongue with the intent to wake him, when he suddenly stilled.

Something was off, and not in the usual sense.

Kurosaki wasn’t sleeping how he normally did. Instead of laying on his back with his hands at his sides, he was on his stomach. His arms wrapped tightly around a pillow and clinging to it like a lifeline, fingers clawing at the expensive fabric and turning his fingertips a pale white. At some point during the night he had kicked the covers away which left the exposed skin on his back vulnerable to the late night cold air. It was just a small strip of flesh unprotected by the boy’s nightshirt, riddled with chilled goosebumps, but even in the cold he was still sweating. His forehead was damp, beads of sweat gliding down his slightly flushed face and tight jaw. Deep lines caused Kurosaki's brow to furrow while curt groans and huffs shot from his bitten lips. (Grimmjow couldn’t remember if that had been done by him or if the human had bitten himself.) Kurosaki’s legs were restless, too, twitching and squirming as his urgent noises grew louder.

Grimmjow frowned. Most of those were signs of a nightmare...but something was bothering him. Kurosaki didn’t look as if he were under any stress. Hell, Grimmjow had seen pain displayed on the boy’s face hundreds of time—almost all of them having been caused by the Arrancar himself—but he couldn’t recognize a single aspect of suffering on his features now.

So, if Kurosaki wasn’t in anguish, why—?

Ichigo’s hips twitched and rolled forward, a drawn out groan falling from his lips as those fingers sank deeper into his plush pillow. The boy’s shoulders stiffened as a shiver scattered over his sleeping form, the sensation causing another whimper from his throat as he bucked his hips once more.

Grimmjow could only stare as a violent and greedy crimson blush consumed his face. His intense blue eyes couldn’t break away from the sight of Ichigo’s hips grinding—damn near humping—the f*cking mattress as his moans gradually gained volume. He knew from their battles that the human had a lot of control over his own body, but Grimmjow still found it completely ridiculous that someone could move their hips like that while sleeping. And his damn noises, too! Kurosaki always had a nice voice, but come on. How many f*cking favors had heaven given this kid?

“Ah!...hahh.”

Arousal ignited inside Grimmjow at the sweet, sweet sound of Kurosaki’s moan, but he immediately stomped it down as he rolled onto his other side, turning his back to the human.

There was no way this could be happening. This had to be a dream. Some kind of weird nightmare induced by lack of sleep and watching far too many dumb television programs.

“Hhhah...ahn!”

Grimmjow screwed his eyes shut as he pulled the blanket over his head in an attempt to escape those dangerous sounds. Kurosaki had no business sounding like that. Why was he even having a f*cking wet dream? Who was he even dreaming about, anyways? Grimmjow shook the question from his head. It didn’t matter who he was dreaming about because there’s no way in hell the Arrancar cared. They were enemies. Whatever Kurosaki was into in no way involved him.

He really wished the brat wasn’t so noisy, though.

As the minutes passed those sounds only grew worse. The ginger panted loudly—dear lord Grimmjow really liked the loud ones, and Kurosaki was no exception—the pattern broken by rumbling groans and breathtaking gasps. With each whimper the bed vibrated from Kurosaki’s hips rocking back and forth, the motion causing Grimmjow’s stomach to twist. Despite how fiercely he denied reality with his mind, his body had continued to respond.

The arousal in Grimmjow’s stomach switched from a small flame to a raging fire every time the bed dipped under the power of Ichigo’s hips. His audible breathing encouraged goosebumps to spread over Grimmjow’s body as he bit the inside of his cheek and drew his legs closer to himself. Kurosaki’s moans were the worst. Each time one of those amazing and haunting moans poured from his tongue Grimmjow was ashamed to realize they held a direct link to his co*ck which throbbed and pulsed with every needy groan.

“Hhn...ngh! F’ck.”

Grimmjow cursed as his co*ck twitched. He immediately muted himself by biting his bottom lip until blood filled his mouth and pressed his palm on his erection as if to stop it from responding. The hard member jumped under his touch, causing him to grit his teeth as he squeezed his thighs together tightly. There wasn’t anything he could do but wait for either the dream to end or for Kurosaki to finish. At this point he didn’t really care which as long as those damn moans stopped.

Unfortunately that didn’t seem like it was going to happen any time soon; and Grimmjow was too impatient to wait.

Without pausing to think about the repercussions, Grimmjow spun around with a snarl, planted his foot on Kurosaki’s hip, and directed all of his power into his leg and kicked the human off the bed.

A piercing yelp burst from Ichigo’s lungs when his body struck the floor with a hard thud. Seconds later the human’s head popped over the edge of the mattress. His hair in a wild disarray, a dark glare glowing in Ichigo’s eyes while his hands clawed the bed as if trying to stop himself from launching at the Arrancar and strangling him.

“What the f*ck, Grimmjow! What the hell was that for!” Ichigo barked.

Grimmjow’s eye twitched as he bared his teeth. Although he doubted Ichigo could see the expression. “You were keeping me up! If you didn’t moan so f*cking loud we wouldn’t be having a problem!”

The human stilled. With a quick glance at his own lap the ginger turned twenty shades of red that—in all honesty—illuminated the room as he averted his gaze. “S-s-sorry,” Ichigo stammered.

He didn’t know what f*cked up creature possessed him to open his big mouth. Grimmjow wished he could blame it on lack of sleep, but there honestly wasn’t a plausible excuse for snorting, “Don’t start sh*t if you don’t intend to finish it,” at his mortal enemy.

If he could blow his own brains out with a Cero right now, he definitely would. Of all things to say, why that?

Ichigo’s eyes widened, looking completely gobsmacked as he struggled to form words. “You...you mean—.”

“We’re both aware of what I meant!” Grimmjow snarled defensively, so very thankful that Kurosaki’s vision at night was complete sh*t and couldn’t see the blush on his face, “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

The Arrancar turned his back on Kurosaki once again and pulled the blanket high over his shoulder. He wished this was a nightmare. It f*cking had to be. He was fully equipped to deal with dying and killing and f*cking cannibalism to survive but this was far from his wheelhouse. Physical attraction sh*t was still fairly new to him after all. He had been alive long before Kurosaki’s mother had been conceived, but he hadn’t had human urges—or even a human body—until rather recently. For f*ck’s sake, he’s only had two sexual partners and one of them was when he and his partner were in that weird in-between phase before Aizen hit them with a second dose of Hōgyoku. Sex in that form was...simply put, the anatomy he had then doesn’t match what he has now. So, yes, he had no idea what to do.

The mattress dipped as Kurosaki climbed back into bed and Grimmjow’s co*ck responded with an excited twitch. He growled, a blush spreading to his ears as he pressed his thighs together tightly. He hated this Gigai and its ludicrous wishes and expectations. This body didn’t have a chance in hell of being touched by Kurosaki. The top three reasons were pretty obvious; they were enemies, Kurosaki couldn’t possibly want to be with someone who nearly killed their friend twice, and Grimmjow would never allow for something so stupid to happen. He was here to kill Kurosaki. Touching each other outside of training was out of the question. The Gigai was going to have to suck it up and stop this nonsense. Immediately.

“Y’know, I could finish what I started.”

Those seven words caused Grimmjow to whip around so quickly that his head smacked against Kurosaki’s. The ginger cursed and pulled back while rubbing his tender forehead, meanwhile Grimmjow was too startled by the human’s words to register the pain.

“What! Are you serious! Why the f*ck would you even propose that!” Grimmjow barked.

“Technically you proposed it,” Ichigo groaned, hissing when his fingers brushed over the newly formed bruise, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really hard head?”

“I wasn’t serious!” Grimmjow exclaimed.

Ichigo lowered his hand and gave the Arrancar a deadpan stare. Did he know that Grimmjow could see him? The lighting was dim, but his vision far exceeded that of a human’s. “You’re always serious. And I don’t think you could ever be funny even to save your life. Besides, it’s kinda obvious that we both need this. Who else would we go to?”

“You have two hands. Use one,” Grimmjow growled through clenched teeth.

This was a joke, wasn’t it? It had to be.

“If I did that you’d know what I was doing anyways and honestly at that rate there’s no point in not helping each other out,” Ichigo pointed out.

Okay, so, the kid wasn’t yanking his chain.

“You seriously think your enemy is gonna want to help you jack off? Go ask one of your friends,” he spat.

Even though he said it...the thought of Ichigo doing just that bugged Grimmjow for some reason. It made sense, in a way. Kurosaki was his prey. If anyone were to lay a hand on Kurosaki—harmful or not—of course it would make him see red. That and the thought of sharing Kurosaki’s attention really ticked him off. His friends and Goro always got in the way of their training and it aggravated Grimmjow to no end. The Arrancar saw himself as being more important than anyone else in Kurosaki’s life since Grimmjow was helping with his powers and his enemy, so sharing the spotlight with some f*ck buddy would tick him off.

Ichigo’s soft brown eyes rolled. “That’s not what friends are for.”

Big words coming from someone the Arrancar was 85% sure f*cked that Quincy dipsh*t.

“You think that’s what an enemy is for?” Grimmjow replied sarcastically, his annoyance growing.

The boy sighed, his sugar filled breath ghosting over the Arrancar’s face. Instinctively Grimmjow parted his lips and inhaled deeply. It was like drinking syrup straight from the bottle. Achingly sweet and coating his tongue. He could practically taste Kurosaki. That discovery alone caused his co*ck to twitch again. Goddamnit.

“Enemies aside, that would leave you empty handed...no pun intended. Anyways, it is my fault that I got you all riled up. Consider this one of those I cause a problem so I fix it type situations,” Ichigo said with a wry smile while he traced the wrinkles of the bed sheets. Those fingers were so close to touching Grimmjow’s bare skin. Everytime they approached the muscles in his arms jolted with the need to get closer. To let those calloused hands brush over his shoulders, down his chest, trace each bump of muscle and finally take hold of—

What the hell is wrong with him?

“What makes you think I’d want you touching me, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow scoffed. He prayed the ginger couldn’t recognize the tightness in his voice. Lying wasn’t something he did often, but when he did he was usually rather convincing. However, all the blood in his body seemed to be directed to an area down south instead of fueling his brain up north. That made lying difficult.

“You popping a boner in my bed from hearing me moan is a pretty big indication that on some level you’re into the idea of me in a sexual situation. That and you get really handsy when we kiss,” Grimmjow said nothing, which induced a smirk to split across Ichigo’s smug face as he propped himself on his elbow and rested his cheek in his hand, “Subtlety isn’t your thing, man.”

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed, his tongue burning with the need to put the brat in his place, but found it impossible to lash out against the truth. He wanted to bring light to the fact that Kurosaki made himself familiar with Grimmjow’s body too, but Kurosaki was the one proposing to do that so it would only end up hurting his case. With nothing to say he turned his back on the ginger once more. A smug chuckle crawled over the Arrancar’s shoulder and teased his ear, encouraging him to pull the blanket tighter around himself. Kurosaki was way too close. Not only could he hear the boy’s breathing, but his heartbeat as well. The rapid pace of the muscle’s thump thump thump was the only indication that the boy was nervous. It was oddly reassuring, in a strange way, but it wasn’t enough to distract him. Kurosaki was severely pushing his limits as he slipped closer, the bed dipping as their joined weight caused the human to lean in until only an inch was left between them. The heat radiating from Kurosaki’s body seeped through Grimmjow’s blanket and caused another outbreak of goosebumps—the sensation heightened by the human’s breath warming the back of his neck.

“Could it be that the great Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is actually a chicken?” Ichigo taunted.

Hell no.

“Afraid you can’t keep up?”

As if. Kurosaki wasn’t nearly as athletic as he was. At most they were equals. And that was merely because Grimmjow was stuck in this damn Gigai. In his real body the brat would be begging for him to take it slower—okay. Time to stop thinking before that picture solidifies.

“That I’ll be better?”

Oh, please. Keep on dreaming, Kurosaki.

“I do have more experience than you.”

He really regretted telling Kurosaki that. Why did he even tell him something so personal? When the brat asked about his level of experience Grimmjow could have lied or just kept his mouth shut. Now the kid was feeling superior just because he had stuck his tongue in more mouths than the Arrancar. f*cking brat. Having more partners didn’t mean he was better. Kissing was only part of the bigger picture. Not that he really had a huge amount of experience on that either.

“That’s so cute. Is the horny Arrancar embarr—?”

With a roaring snarl Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo’s shoulders and slammed him back onto the bed, straddling the ginger’s hips as he pinned him in place. Kurosaki’s co*ck throbbed as Grimmjow sat on his lap—and it took every bit of strength the Arrancar had to hold back the moan bubbling in his throat. Apparently Kurosaki was blessed in all aspects of life because of course he was.

“You never f*cking shut up until someone makes you,” Grimmjow growled before smashing their lips together in a hungry kiss.

It was such a big mistake, but Grimmjow couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision because the taste of Kurosaki was unbelievable. The perfect combination of sugary sweetness with a hot bite of spice. Not so sweet that his teeth ached, and not so hot that his mouth would catch fire—just enough to make him realize how hungry he really was. How long had it been since he had done this? The concept of time meant nothing to him. Being undead and bound to survival alone left Hollows no reason to care for time—leaving them as aloof to minutes and hours as animals were. It was hard to count the years. It was easily summed up as too long. He never thought he would miss it. Calloused fingers brushing over his skin. Nails scratching his shoulders and down his chest. A warm body bucking eagerly under him. Hands praising his body and treating him like a god. His body had been starved, desperate for another’s touch. Why had he ignored this need for so long?

Hot fingers traced the sensitive skin just above the band of his underwear, teasing him and waiting for a sign of rejection before a single digit hooked on the elastic and pulled down, just far enough to expose the tip of Grimmjow’s co*ck to the cold night air. His weak curse was—thankfully—muted by the kiss, but there was no hiding his erection’s excited twitch or the small bead of precum that seeped from the head. Kurosaki’s thumb stroked the skin beside it, silently asking for permission without breaking their kiss.

This was Grimmjow’s opportunity to stop this mess before everything got out of control.

A thumb traced the edge of his bellybutton, the digit just faintly grazing the sensitive skin on his co*ck.

His whole life was a f*cking mess. He was an undead, cannibalistic, demon—he might as well f*ck up everything else.

He rolled his hips forward and immediately bit Ichigo’s lip in an attempt to silence his (if he was fully honest with himself) whimper. The human hummed in appreciation, tongue darting forward to tease the Arrancar’s lip as he reached down and wrapped his fingers carefully around his erection with a experimental stroke.

“sh*t,” Grimmjow hissed.

He didn’t understand how one person could be so warm. His hips bucked into the tight heat of Ichigo’s fist and grunted, breaking their kiss and squeezing his eyes shut as he bit his lip. It had been way too long since anyone last touched him. He was so pathetic. He could only hope that Kurosaki was way more desperate than he was.

“f*ck, you’re as big as I thought you’d be.”

Grimmjow’s eyes shot open. Kurosaki had tilted his head to the side, biting his lip with a light blush on his cheeks as he watched his own hand ease a small dribble of precum from Grimmjow’s co*ck.

“Didn’t expect you to be that thick, though. Not gonna lie, I would gladly choke on it,” Ichigo laughed, a breathless jingle that exposed his anxiety.

He wasn’t anxious about what they were doing. He was anxious about how the Arrancar would receive his filthy confessions. The brat had nothing to worry about. The thought alone of those lips around his co*ck and that tongue teasing his skin—and the knowledge that Kurosaki wanted to do such a thing—was enough to push a moan from Grimmjow’s throat as he dove for another kiss.

With each stroke of Kurosaki’s calloused and warm hand on his co*ck Grimmjow’s mind grew heavy with lust, making it impossible for him to concentrate on anything besides Ichigo. His senses were overwhelmed and overpowered by the human. The sweat beginning to form on his skin was intoxicating. He couldn’t stop breathing it in whenever they broke their kiss for air—filling his mouth and lungs with his scent. He had never smelled something so amazing before. Even an aged Hollow—even a Soul or a Soul Reaper—could never begin to compare to the scent of Kurosaki’s sweat, skin, and the blood pumping through his veins. Grimmjow couldn’t begin to describe it.

The Arrancar was even finding it near impossible to blink in fear of missing the delicious expressions on the boy’s face. The human was far more direct than he had anticipated, but he still blushed each time Grimmjow twitched in his hand. He bit his lip and turned his head away as if ashamed by his own actions. His hair a long and messy halo scattered around his head like a crown, begging to be pulled by Grimmjow’s large hands. Dark brown eyes smoldering with lust. His young and pretty face twisted in poorly restrained pleasure. His body screaming for Grimmjow’s touch. A lustful sun bathed in moonlight.

The urge to spew compliments and praises was overwhelming.

He bit his tongue to hold them at bay.

The f*cking noises that poured from the boy were astounding. Kurosaki’s racing pulse drummed in his ears, each throb of his heart begging for Grimmjow to tear into him. His blood racing through his veins, echoing the Arrancar’s name. His body was demanding to be devoured by Grimmjow, wanting to feel his claws and teeth sink into his skin. Kurosaki was f*cking lucky Grimmjow wasn’t a young Hollow anymore. If he were, he wouldn’t think twice about ripping the human apart for a meal. He had noticed it from the first moment they met. Kurosaki was exactly his type. Drenched in power that held endless potential. Spiritual pressure dense and uncontainable with an intoxicating scent that was invasive and defiant. He fought and struggled and would never bow to anyone, even if they were obviously superior. Grimmjow hadn’t run into his type often. Souls were spineless and weak, and the Soul Reapers that protected the World of the Living were mostly insignificant. But when he did find a Soul Reaper with a delectable aroma like Kurosaki’s, his young Hollow self had always become restless and uncontrollably excited to chase and catch such worthy prey. To this day he still remembers how wonderful those few Soul Reapers tasted, and he could only imagine how Kurosaki would overshadow them all.

But things had changed.

Now the only part of Ichigo he was willing to swallow were the sounds pouring from his mouth as they kissed. His surprised gasps. Those breathless pants. His needy groans. Those long and deep moans that cast a shiver through his spine and rocked him to his very core. He wanted to hear them again and again and again until he got sick of it, but he wasn’t sure he ever would.

Grimmjow snarled and rocked his hips forward, abandoning all shame as he used the boy’s hand. Kurosaki was going way too slow. Why was he going so slow?

“f*ck, Grimm,” Ichigo moaned, almost whining, desperate for friction on his forgotten erection.

Grimmjow’s hips stuttered at the sound, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Kurosaki.

A tilted smirk split across Ichigo’s face as he chuckled breathlessly. His thumb gathered and smeared precum on the swollen head and caused Grimmjow’s breath to hitch. “You like it when I call you Grimm?” Ichigo asked, his eyes shining with delight at this discovery.

co*cky little brat. Grimmjow growled as he took hold of Ichigo’s jaw and forcefully tilted his head, granting himself full access to the ginger’s neck. The boy shivered when pale fingers brushed his hair aside and exposed his ear to the Arrancar’s lips. His teeth nipped harshly at the pierced lobe, secretly enjoying how the ginger’s hips squirmed in response. Grimmjow nibbled on the outer shell of Kurosaki’s ear as his fingers combed through his long hair while his hips continued to roll into the human’s wonderful hot grasp. As the boy’s panting grew louder Grimmjow tightened his grip on Kurosaki’s smooth jaw while his other hand pulled on orange locks, grinning against Kurosaki’s ear as needy whimpers pushed from his throat. He rather liked this side of Kurosaki.

“Apparently,” Grimmjow growled huskily, directly into his ear, “I’m not doing this right if yer still talkin’.”

He didn’t give Kurosaki any time to respond. Without warning he latched onto Ichigo’s long and gorgeous neck, biting and licking and sucking at the skin as if he were going to devour him. In a sense, he was, but not as seen among Hollows. This was far more animalistic. It was nothing but humanity condensed into one primal need to take and to conquer. To consume.

“sh*t,” Ichigo groaned. He screwed his eyes shut as his perfect teeth sank deep into his swollen and heavily bitten lip, attempting to hold back his noises. It didn’t take long before the ginger started to shiver and shake in pleasure. Eventually he was so overwhelmed that he released Grimmjow to claw and cling at the Arrancar’s waist. At a particularly hard bite on the juncture between shoulder and neck the boy broke by emitting a guttural cry, his nails digging deep into Grimmjow’s ribs. He was definitely going to bruise from that. Honestly that only excited him more.

But it was his turn to be useful. After all, he really hated owing people sh*t. It was time to break even.

His hand slipped free from Kurosaki’s hair down to the boy’s chest. His heart raced under the Arrancar’s palm, pumping life through the boy’s body at tremendous speeds. It was such a soothing thump thump thump against his hand—he nearly regretted moving his hand down to Kurosaki’s stomach. All inklings of regret were immediately dismissed as he pushed up the human’s shirt halfway to expose his muscular stomach. The sunkissed skin burned Grimmjow’s fingers as he traced one of many scars on the boy’s stomach, a massive pink mark just above his belly button, given to him by Byakuya Kuchiki in an attempt to remove his powers. Son of a bitch had no idea how resilient and determined the brat was. A smirk grazed Grimmjow’s lips. What he wouldn’t give to have been there to witness Kurosaki turning the Seireitei upside down and bringing them all to their knees. He practically had them begging for his forgiveness. A human teenager. It was a magnificent display of power, and probably the sexiest thing he had ever heard.

Grimmjow’s fingers brushed the jagged scar one last time before sliding his hand down further. He slowly peeled back the band of Kurosaki’s sweatpants, appreciating how the boy’s breath hitched and immensely enjoyed the strangled whine that vibrated against his teeth. Grimmjow released his neck, nipping at the tender skin covered in his bite marks and saliva in farewell with a promise to return, and placed his lips by Kurosaki’s ear once again.

“I really hope you’re loud, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow purred, “Otherwise I’ll be incredibly disappointed.”

Without skipping a beat he plunged his hand into those boxers and took hold of Ichigo’s co*ck. The boy gasped and his whole body jolted at the touch, his back lifting slightly off the mattress while his nails etched deep scratches on pale skin. Damn. Grimmjow’s ego could feed for weeks off this boy’s reactions alone. Grimmjow was glad that Kurosaki was reacting so dramatically. It made this so much easier to ignore. And by this he means the way his mouth watered at the volcanic heat radiating from Kurosaki’s dick and the intense need to do something with it besides touch it with his hand. He’s had sexual thoughts before. Just not ones that depicted him doing anything besides f*cking his partner until they couldn’t take it anymore. Thinking of himself in a vulnerable or...giving position was beyond weird.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts Grimmjow started out slowly, stroking Kurosaki experimentally to gauge his reactions. He never really thought about the human’s size down south since they were, you know, enemies, but he was still shocked to find that Kurosaki was big. Bigger than himself, actually, which he found really surprising. A curse whistled past Ichigo’s gritted teeth as he continued his pathetic attempt at holding back his noises. Grimmjow smirked and returned to the boy’s neck. Kurosaki may have beaten him in length, but Grimmjow won the girth category. Yet in the end none of that mattered. Kurosaki claimed that he wouldn’t mind choking on the Arrancar’s dick and to be perfectly honest Grimmjow felt the same about the ginger. Not that he would ever admit that.

He cast a glance at Kurosaki and smirked. Maybe he should.

“I dunno about choking, but I might not be against having this puppy in my mouth,” Grimmjow drawled with a tug on the leaking co*ck in his hand.

Jackpot. The boy turned five shades of red, but the lust in his eyes tripled and his body trembled with unbridled need as he bucked his hips. “f*ck. Grimm, just—please,” he whimpered.

He had never heard something so beautiful before.

Grimmjow did as asked, his grasp firmer and his pace quicker as he teased veins and choked on his own grunts when the human twitched against his palm.

But there was something missing.

He bucked his hips to gain the boy’s attention. Thankfully Kurosaki knew what he was asking for, and that tight heat from before returned.

“Fuuuuuuck, that’s good,” Grimmjow groaned, taking a moment to collect himself as he rested his head beside the ginger’s and panted in his ear. Despite needing a little break he never stopped his hand. His hot breath panting and ghosting over Kurosaki’s wet and sensitive neck mixing with Grimmjow’s strokes was enough to dissolve the boy’s restraints. His noises were small at first. Dramatically enhanced breathing. The usual grunts and groans. But when Grimmjow bit down on his tender neck once again a very loud moan tore free from his throat.

“f*ckf*ckf*ck,” Ichigo gasped. At this point Grimmjow was afraid of looking at Kurosaki’s face. If he did he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just blow his load right then and there. He did not want to give the brat that kind of ammunition.

Although listening to the boy wasn’t any better. Kurosaki was loud. Almost too loud. Under normal circ*mstances Grimmjow never believed such a thing existed. He enjoyed it when his partners screamed in pleasure. That’s how he knew he was doing something right, and of course each sound was a tremendous boost to his ego, and the thought of someone hearing their activities thrilled him to no end. However, neither of his previous partners sounded anything like Kurosaki. His angelic voice was purely sinful and it all shot straight to his co*ck which was f*cking painful at this point.

“sh*t...ahh! f*cking hell—ngh! H-holy f*ck, Grimm,” Ichigo groaned.

Even curses sounded pure on that tongue. Grimmjow had never heard his name uttered in such a tone before. Normally people spat his name from their mouths as if it were poison. Kurosaki repeated it over and over again as if he were trying to keep it forever—like he had become addicted to it. Grimmjow might have become addicted to hearing it.

“f*ck!”

Grimmjow froze at the sudden scream, thinking he had done something wrong, until he noticed Kurosaki’s body arching off the mattress as his legs trembled.

“Sh-sh*t. Grimm...f*ck it feels so f*cking good. Goddamnit,” Ichigo cursed.

The Arrancar shivered and tightened his grip on the ginger’s jaw. He really wasn’t going to last long if Kurosaki kept talking like that. Hell, he was probably waking up the whole neighborhood with those p*rnographic moans. Grimmjow didn’t want to give a f*ck, but it was going to be a problem if someone decided to interrupt them to complain about the noise.

Fingers tugged at his wrist. “Gr-Grimm, can...can I try something?” Ichigo panted.

Having a good idea of what the ginger was attempting to do, Grimmjow cursed and released Kurosaki’s co*ck and busied his newly freed hand by pulling on long orange hair. As expected, Ichigo wrapped his long fingers around both of their erections and stroked them together with one hand as the other scratched the back of Grimmjow’s neck.

“Ngh...f*ck, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow grunted, unable to hold himself back as his hips bucked, biting his tongue when the boy’s co*ck twitched against his in response.

“You’re f*cking gorgeous.”

That was going to cause problems.

“Shut it, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow ordered, but the demand fell flat when the human used the head of his co*ck to tease the underside of the Arrancar’s. This brat was f*cking filthy.

“You look like a goddamn Greek god,” Ichigo laughed tightly, cutting himself off with a moan.

“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow warned. He yanked painfully hard on orange hair for emphasis. Curses and moans were one thing. Genuine compliments were another. The latter was extremely dangerous.

“Sorry. Can’t help it,” Ichigo chuckled, “It’s hard—f*ck—s’ard not to say anything. You have...ngh, no idea how—.”

Grimmjow silenced him quickly by letting go of Kurosaki’s jaw and cupped his cheek, pushing his thumb into the boy’s mouth to make it impossible for him to speak as Grimmjow continued his work on the boy’s neck. The skin was mutilated by now. There was no way he could cover what Grimmjow had done, and he definitely couldn’t excuse those markings as a normal bruise. Ichigo’s teeth clamped down suddenly on his thumb as he moaned, his hand stroking their co*cks faster. He was getting close. Good. Grimmjow wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

Fingers tangled themselves on hair at the nape of Grimmjow’s neck and pulled sharply on the blue locks. He winced at the sudden pain, a snarled warning on his tongue as he pulled back to snap at the human, but stilled. Ichigo’s eyes were incredibly dark—almost black—and were drowned in a thick, syrupy layer of pleasure. They were so distant Grimmjow wasn’t even sure the boy could actually see him. His lean body was stiff with his back beginning to arch off the mattress. His teeth biting down on the Arrancar’s thumb, splitting his skin open as drool seeped from the corner of his lips. He was so goddamn sensitive. Was he always this this during sexual situations? Or was it just because it was Grimmjow?

“You have no goddamn right to look that f*cking good, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled before latching onto the boy’s throat once more.

He pushed Ichigo’s hand away and took charge, setting a fast pace as he pistoned his hips in tune with each stroke. The hand in his hair grew painfully tight, but Grimmjow couldn’t care. Not when those deliciously pathetic moans and whines spilled from Ichigo’s lips. The Arrancar encouraged him to continue by stroking the inside of his soft cheek with his thumb.

“D-don’t, goddamnit, don’t you dare stop, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow snarled in his ear, struggling to regain his voice, “Moan for me.”

Neighbors be damned. If they wanted to complain they had to talk to him.

Immediately a flood of noises escaped the boy’s throat, each one sweeter than the last, each one causing the heat deep in his belly to burn like a raging fire as his hips stuttered. f*ck. How could one goddamn person be so f*cking sexy? Kurosaki wasn’t even intentionally trying to knock the air out of Grimmjow’s lungs and yet he was. As if that were natural.

This human was unlike anyone he had ever met, on or off the battlefield. He gave everything his all without a second thought. He fought his enemies with everything he had. He protected his friends even after his body had been broken and mangled. He devoted limitless hours to his studying and to his training. He did everything he could to make Grimmjow feel at home. He poured his heart and soul into everything he did. He kept giving and giving and giving as if he were invincible and nonexpendable. It was completely different from the way Hollows existed. The true opposite of how Grimmjow functioned. Hell he didn’t even have a heart or a soul to pour into anything he did. All he did was take and demand and consume. His place in life was purely selfish. He fought for no one. He protected no one. He bled only for himself and he would die only for himself. Himself, himself, himself.

In theory they shouldn’t work. He and Kurosaki were opposites. One was selfless and giving and kind and the other...the other wasn’t. They shouldn’t work. They aren’t supposed to work.

But they did. In their own twisted way.

The absolute worst aspects of themselves melded together with so much ease it made Grimmjow dizzy. Kurosaki wanted to be used. Spent, like an offering to an uncaring god. He craved to be consumed. To please some undeserving bastard with a smile on his face while his tight body bucked with every touch as moans rolled from his tongue—as if an angel were blessing his body instead of a gluttonous demon tainting his clean soul. Grimmjow wanted nothing more than to be that drooling, fang bearing, sad*stic beast. Grimmjow wanted to shatter that perfect image everyone saw of their precious protector. f*ck that goddamn awful chocolate coating Kurosaki’s heart wore. He wanted that disgusting, distasteful, and pitiful center. The one that was needy and jealous and begged to be touched by a savage creature like him. A pitiful human that melted under the touch of a gruff monster and waited and hoped the monster would tear him apart and reduce him to a shameful, sweating, and aroused disaster. Grimmjow wanted to bring Kurosaki to his knees. Make him vulnerable. Degrade him into his worst form—to be as pathetic and messed up as he was. Then he wanted to take every piece for himself. Devour every sinful moan and angry insult the brat could throw at him as if it were the best goddamn thing he had ever tasted because Grimmjow knew it would be. Nothing could compare to Kurosaki’s taste. Even in this weakened state he still reigned superior.

Grimmjow panted heavily on Ichigo’s skin with a whine lodged in his throat. His light blue eyes were glazed with an odd mixture of lust and a brutal animalistic heat that caused his teeth to pulse and ache with a strange, primal need he didn’t understand. Kurosaki was a mess. The human’s neck was a dark shade of purple and red, the hickies turning his skin into a blotched canvas. He could smell the blood pushing through Kurosaki’s veins in overwhelming waves. Human, Soul Reaper, Quincy and Hollow—every goddamn drop was an unspeakably beautiful combination. What he wouldn’t give to have a taste of it again.

With a sharp gulp Grimmjow lowered his head and placed his nose by the boy’s ear and inhaled deeply. The Arrancar cursed as he became woozy and his hips stuttered, precum dripping from his co*ck like honey. Kurosaki’s scent was...it was f*cking indescribable. Grimmjow could try to string a couple of coherent words together but nothing he could say would ever do the smell justice. It was addictive. Each intake lead to another until Grimmjow beyond lightheaded and positively intoxicated and suddenly he understood why people drank and smoked to chase that thrilling high. His co*ck understood it, too. Precum spilled from his dick like a slick waterfall and coated Kurosaki’s swollen head and stained his scarred stomach—a sight that was sure to embarrass him in the morning. To think the boy’s mere scent did this to him was ridiculous. He could only imagine what tasting him would do.

Luckily he didn’t have to imagine it.

Taking one last lungful of Ichigo’s scent Grimmjow’s tongue slipped past his eager fangs and licked painfully slow along the human’s ear, shaking as his tongue retreated with a moan balanced on his burning taste buds. Once again Kurosaki was indescribable. His sweat was a wonderful blend of salt and caramel. His skin tasting of chocolate and fiery spices that kept Grimmjow’s body alive. Sweet and savory all rolled into one. It was breathtaking.

Grimmjow’s teeth grazed Kurosaki’s jaw as his hand tightened, squeezing their co*cks together as his pace slowed. He eased his lips apart, allowing Kurosaki’s scent to roll over his tongue once more as he inhaled deeply—but this time it was different. He wasn’t targeting the boy’s musk. A weak whine pushed from Ichigo’s throat as he squirmed. His body was aware of Grimmjow’s actions even if he wasn’t. A small piece of Kurosaki’s spiritual pressure broke loose from the boy’s body and dissolved on Grimmjow’s tongue, causing the Arrancar to moan. His spiritual pressure wasn’t anywhere near what it used to be but the taste still shook him to his very core. He hasn’t wanted to devour a human since he was a newborn Hollow but of course Kurosaki had to completely change that. Even while he was this weak he still reeked of power and potential. It drove Grimmjow crazy. Luckily for the both of them he was trapped inside this Gigai and unable to do anything about his insane cravings. He really shouldn’t have skipped dinner.

His fangs were throbbing in need, sore and painful as if they were growing larger in anticipation for the stupid, stupid thought clouding his mind. He drank Kurosaki’s scent. He tasted his enemy. He bruised the boy’s throat in ways that were possessive and common among humans not Hollows. It should’ve been enough. For some reason it wasn’t. He was greedy. Grimmjow wanted to gloat. He wanted credit for what he did to Kurosaki. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had reduced the proud Soul Reaper Ichigo Kurosaki into a moaning, slu*tty mess and he wanted everyone to know. He wanted Kurosaki’s friends to know just how much their precious Ichigo loved being mutilated by a filthy Arrancar. How willing Ichigo was to expose his neck to Grimmjow’s fangs and allowed himself to be used. Anyone could leave hickies. He wanted to do more. He needed to do more. To show that Ichigo wanted Grimmjow. To remind Kurosaki who broke him down and brought him so much pleasure that he couldn’t even speak.

Grimmjow pushed Ichigo’s head back to expose the front of his throat as drool caressed the curves of his pearly white teeth and coated Kurosaki’s bruised skin when it fell. This was his doing. The great Ichigo Kurosaki reduced to nothing more than a lust driven slu*t. This was his. His. Grimmjow tilted his own head to the side, jaw tense as his teeth hovered over Kurosaki’s skin. Ichigo whined and bucked his hips, tugging on Grimmjow’s hair and pulling him closer until they laid flush against one another. A hesitant growl rumbled in Grimmjow’s throat as Kurosaki’s flames consumed his body, his body shaking as he struggled to hold himself back. It would’ve worked too, if Kurosaki hadn’t chosen that specific moment to drag his nails down Grimmjow’s spine, clawing each individual bone with a wanton moan. f*ck. Drool flooded Grimmjow’s mouth and drizzled onto Ichigo’s neck as he released a heavy, animalistic snarl from his throat and snapped his jaws on overworked flesh. Grimmjow abandoned all shame as his teeth tightened their grip on Ichigo’s long and slender neck, growling and moaning as Ichigo’s muffled curses rattled in his throat and adam’s apple bobbed against the Arrancar’s tongue. His hand picked up speed when his hips began to stutter, disgracefully thrusting into his own grasp like a wild animal as the lust fogging over his mind tripled in density when Kurosaki’s co*ck throbbed and twitched against his. A hot, breathless whimper escaped Ichigo’s mouth as his fingers pulled on blue locks, his body seizing as his nails sloppily scratched down Grimmjow’s spine one last time. That’s it. Grimmjow couldn’t hold back any longer. Drooling and snarling with his hips jerking wildly Grimmjow struck his climax. His vision flashed a blinding white as his org*sm tore through him. His jaw tightened on Ichigo’s throat, threatening to tear through sensitive human flesh as wave after wave of pleasure crashing through his body. It was unbelievable. It felt so f*cking amazing that he couldn’t stop groaning as he turned into a trembling mess slowly climbing down from the high. A whine squeezed through Ichigo’s throat, sending vibrations through Grimmjow’s jaw and skull as Ichigo climaxed with a jerk of his hips, fingers clawing at the Arrancar’s back and hair. A pathetic growl slipped from Grimmjow’s mouth from the overstimulation as a second climax crushed through his exhausted body, a small trickle of cum dribbling from his co*ck and onto Kurosaki’s.

A few minutes pass between them in silence with only their pants filling the void. Ichigo didn’t dare move, holding his head at an odd angle so as not to disturb Grimmjow who bit harder and harder with every twitch of muscle in his body. He couldn’t stop shaking. Grimmjow gulped as his tongue brushed over Kurosaki’s skin. He drank in every groan and whimper he gained from the simple touch before teasing the skin surrounding his teeth with the tip of his tongue. No blood. That was both a relief and a let down for some strange reason. Either way he had to resist the urge to make the human bleed.

It seemed like hours, although it was probably only minutes, when Grimmjow’s tremors came to a stop and his mind cleared, his animalistic urges drifting away bit by bit. His jaw ached as he carefully released the boy’s neck and removed his thumb to pull back—just enough to assess the mess they made.

Kurosaki’s neck was bruised and abused by his teeth and tongue—and the bite on the front of his throat, just under his adams apple, looked as if it was one second longer of captivity away from bleeding. It had to hurt and it was definitely going to tomorrow. Despite that there was a tiny smile on Ichigo’s lips. A highly satisfied and slightly smug little grin. Grimmjow swallowed and turned his gaze down to his hands. His thumb was bleeding where Kurosaki had bitten him. It ached, but the knowledge that Kurosaki drew blood from him made it completely worth it. His other hand...f*ck, his hand was covered in so much cum. Apparently they both really needed this.

He swallowed again as his co*ck twitched in interest. He needed more.

His blue eyes moved back to Kurosaki. The boy knew what he was thinking. Hell, the brat was thinking it too. He could tell by that damn smile and the look in those frustrating eyes.

“f*ck you, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow grumbled.

He took hold of Ichigo’s jaw once more, but this time with his left hand, smearing the disgusting mixture of their cum on the boy’s face as he kissed him deeply.

He was a f*cking moron for allowing this to happen, but he had to win some idiot award for making it happen a second time.

When had he become so weak to temptation?

Chapter 33: Stay Cool

Chapter Text

Exhausted blue eyes scanned brightly colored and overly excited food labels, each one promoting themselves to be the best. Grimmjow’s eyelid twitched as his anger started to boil. His eyes landed on a brand with two versions of the same name and flavor, with one having “50% less sodium” and frustration suddenly surged through him as he threw the cheap plastic shopping basket to the floor with a snarl.

“WHY ARE THERE f*ckING FIFTY TYPES OF INSTANT RAMEN! WHY DO THEY MAKE THIS SO DAMN DIFFICULT!” Grimmjow bellowed, causing others in the same aisle to jump and slowly distance themselves from the man. He didn’t give a sh*t if he was scaring them. They were the ones being f*cking ridiculous. There were millions of brands for one goddamn item and they acted like that was normal! For f*cks sake why did humans need such variety? Hollows never pulled this sh*t. They just ate whatever they could find. Of course they had preferences but for f*cks sake being picky as a Hollow meant death. The whole point of eating is to keep from dying. Why the f*ck were humans making this so goddamn complicated?

Grimmjow sighed and crouched down, scrubbing his tired eyes as he tried to calm himself. He was overreacting and behaving like a child just because he was tense. Although he had a legitimate reason to be panicked out of his ever-loving mind. Last night he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Not after what they did. Ichigo’s moans wouldn’t stop echoing in his head. He couldn’t seem to forget those eyes either. They haunted him. The brat had fallen asleep after their...activities without a problem. He was as content as could be with life. The Arrancar, on the other hand, spent the last few hours of his evening staring at the ceiling as he tried to register what the f*ck they had just done. Twice.

This morning definitely wasn’t any better.

Grimmjow had once been envious of humans. While he lived his life under a bone chilling moon, the humans thrived under a warm sun. They could bathe in those warm rays every single day and were able to escape the cold moon at night. He never could. He hated it. Years upon years of living in Hueco Mundo hardened his skin beyond repair while frostbite overtook him. Now that sun belonged to him just as much as it did to humans.

Unfortunately it wasn’t until now that he realized the moon held secrets in her shadows, but the sun illuminated dirty deeds with glee.

There was no hiding what he had done to Kurosaki. In fact, the light that poured through the glass balcony doors only seemed to highlight his mess. Dark hickies stained Kurosaki’s neck, each one looking more possessive than the last, but not nearly as avaricious as the violent bite mark practically engraved on the boy’s throat. To an unassuming onlooker it looked as if Kurosaki had been mauled by a wild animal. Grimmjow, however, was burdened with the knowledge that he was the wild animal. He had no idea what possessed him to do such a thing to Kurosaki. The urge to bite a partner during any form of a sexual encounter wasn’t new. It didn’t surprise him at all that he wanted to sink his teeth into Kurosaki’s skin. His body was easily overwhelmed with the need to leave his mark in heated situations. To remind whomever he got his hands on, and whoever looked at them, just who caused their pleasure. The urge was normal. To act upon it wasn’t. Grimmjow had always been careful and held back. He never allowed himself to leave a mark. Those primal human needs were always to be forgotten and ignored, as if they never happened. With Kurosaki...something in him snapped. He didn’t restrain himself at all. Not once did he question or argue with himself about marking the ginger. He should have. Now there was no way he could deny what happened. Not when the evidence was literally all over the human’s body.

After the first round Grimmjow had moved on from Kurosaki’s neck, seeing how the flesh had been thoroughly conquered, and ventured to other areas. Not much was available since neither of them removed their clothes—praise whatever deity was protecting his dumb ass—but that didn’t keep him from creating more incriminating damage. There were many noticeable bite marks on Kurosaki’s shoulders. Deep ones that bruised his sunkissed skin and swallowed the many freckles on his shoulders—the discovery of which secretly thrilled the Arrancar to no end. His fingers had stretched the material of Kurosaki’s shirt so much that it wouldn’t be suitable for public. The collar had been yanked and tugged with such need that the shirt now only covered one shoulder instead of two. Thanks to the wardrobe malfunction he was able to sneak in a nip or two on Kurosaki’s clavicle, leaving more imprints on his skin, but that was all. Except for the massive handprints he burned into Kurosaki’s hips in an unfruitful attempt to keep the boy still.

In his defense Grimmjow hadn’t walked away unscathed either. Kurosaki wasn’t nearly as violent as he was, but he left a few marks of his own. Grimmjow’s thumb was bruised beyond belief from the ginger’s teeth and the skin was mending slowly compared to what he was used to. It was sore and hurt like hell, but the pain was nothing compared to the abuse Kurosaki had heaved onto his chest. Specifically his nipples. It was embarrassing as f*ck to admit—so he wasn’t going to verbally—but they were so goddamn sensitive that he nearly moaned from the material of his shirt touching his chest while getting dressed this morning. Not to mention the wild and stinging array of scratches on his back. Every time he moved his shirt shifted, brushing against the red cuts, and he could feel Kurosaki’s nails raking down his spine all over again. It took everything in his willpower to swallow the groans that followed. Then there was the oddly placed bite mark on his right hand, between the thumb and forefinger, when he tried to silence Kurosaki’s ridiculously loud moans a second time. Luckily no one complained about the noise. Sadly, those unbelievably sexy noises had been muted and his whole hand ached from the strength of Kurosaki’s jaw.

To make matters worse, Kurosaki showed no affliction toward what they did. He woke up with a smile on his face, albeit shy with a tender blush on his cheeks, and acted as if last night was normal. He wasn’t disgusted by the marks on his neck nor did he try to hide them. He merely gathered his hair into one of those sloppy ponytails that Grimmjow had become so fond of and allowed the hickies and bite marks to be seen. Hell, Grimmjow had even caught the ginger brushing his fingers over the bruises while smiling. And for some reason Grimmjow enjoyed that response.

The Arrancar groaned as he tugged his blue hair in frustration, ignoring the pain pulsing in his hand. Why the f*ck did he do this to himself?

“Jaegerjaquez? Is that you?”

Grimmjow lifted his head in surprise. As shocked as he was to hear someone call his name, nothing could prepare him to see Uryū Ishida standing at the end of the aisle, looking like he had just walked out of hell. He had never seen a single flaw in the man’s appearance before. Seeing how the Quincy made clothes for a living it was obvious that stuff was important to him. Today that wasn’t the case. His hair was a mess. His clothes were wrinkled and definitely not his style. Baggy grey sweatpants, black flip flops, and a red hoodie with some team name scrawled across the chest. They didn’t even look like they were his size. Did they belong to someone else?

The Arrancar’s sour temper tripled. “What are you doing here?” Grimmjow huffed as he stood up. He was not in the mood to play with this Quincy.

“Shopping. Just like you...apparently?” Uryū stated it like a question as he peered at the battered handbasket on the floor in uncertainty.

“You’re saying you didn’t know I was here?” Grimmjow asked in disbelief.

A weird look crossed over the Quincy’s face. “Why would I know that? Your Gigai pretty much snuffs out your spiritual pressure. The only way I would be able to detect you is if I were actively trying to find you.”

“I’m talking about the phone, Quincy,” Grimmjow scoffed as he picked up the basket, “Don’t play dumb. I know you can track me on it. I’m not as stupid as people seem to think I am.”

Uryū blinked in surprise before his face dropped into a look of uncomfortable shame. Alright. That was new.

“Uh, yeah, there is a way for me to track you, but I gave up on that a while back. You didn’t really leave the apartment, and when you did you were with Ichigo. It seemed pointless to keep track of you,” he admitted.

“...I can’t believe I actually believe you,” Grimmjow said. Today was full of surprises.

A tight, sarcastic smile stretched Uryū’s lips, bringing attention to the purple bags under his eyes. The human looked worse than Grimmjow did. That was saying something considering Grimmjow is dead. He must not be getting much sleep either. Was it because he was worried about Ichigo?

“So...what are you doing here? Of all things I thought I would see you do, shopping was not one of them. I doubt Arrancar’s have supermarkets,” Uryū asked, his defenses building once again. Good. The normal Uryū is an asshole but the other guy was freaking him out.

“There’s no food at the apartment. I had to go because Kurosaki’s—,” an image of Ichigo sleeping on their bed, snoring, with the marks on his neck on full display played in Grimmjow’s mind and his mouth ran dry, “...recovering.”

What the f*ck was he doing here? From a man’s point of view—more accurately anyone with a brain’s point of view, he could be giving Kurosaki another dose of last night but instead he was shopping for goddamn human food like some errand boy.

Dear lord, Kurosaki was right, he was a chicken.

Uryū suddenly became somber, vaguely pulling the Arrancar from his thoughts when light refracted off his glasses as he dropped his head. “Ah.”

Silence passed between them as Grimmjow tried to push the memories of last night...or rather midnight, out of his mind. Okay, no, he wasn’t a f*cking coward. If they were both humans, then sure, they could go at it like p*rnstars until their bodies were ground to dust, but they weren’t. Even if they weren’t enemies any kind of relationship between them would never and could never work out. He was a Hollow through and through. Love and romance was bullsh*t and he didn’t need it, and definitely didn’t want it. What they did was not something he should be thinking about now or ever. It meant nothing. It was merely convenient. It was over. End of story.

But...

Normally he didn’t regret the decisions he made. Actually, the real problem was that he didn’t regret what they did, but regretted that he didn’t regret what he had done with Kurosaki. Which barely made any sense but sh*t involving Kurosaki rarely ever did. All Grimmjow knew was that it’s literally physically impossible for him to regret what they had done last night. It felt way too f*cking good to wish it never happened. Even if his common sense was cursing up a storm. It was like he said. It didn’t mean anything. They were merely blowing off steam. It was just...what it was. It was the same as his other sexual encounters. No emotional ties. No double meanings. Only lust.

“Do you need help shopping? You seem aggravated and I know which brands Ichigo likes,” Uryū offered awkwardly, his voice and posture stiff.

Grimmjow blinked. He had forgotten the Quincy was there. Did he seriously offer to help him? Why would he want to? For Kurosaki’s benefit? He f*cking hoped that’s why he wanted to help.

“And you want to help me...why?”

A dark scowl twisted Uryū’s face and bared his teeth in a vicious snarl. “Don’t make this difficult. Either you can shut your oversized mouth and let me help you, or you can spend the rest of your day tearing your hair out from deciding which cheap brand of ramen to buy. Spoilers, they all suck,” he snapped.

Touchy. It seemed the Quincy had an ulterior motive for helping him. Grimmjow was interested in finding out what that could possibly be. That and pushing the shopping onto someone else sounded like a great idea.

Grimmjow pulled out the wrinkled list from his pocket and tossed it at the human. “Knock yerself out, sh*tface. Don’t bitch at me like that again or you’re gonna lose some teeth.”

Uryū unexpectedly caught the list and shot him another glare. “You seem to forget who almost killed you when you returned.”

What an abrasive little sh*t.

“Don’t forget who almost killed you with his bare hands in a weakened Gigai,” Grimmjow spat in return, “Remember, Quincy, it only takes five pounds of pressure to crush a windpipe. Don’t be so co*cky.”

“You’d have to catch me first, Jaegerjaquez,” a sly smirk tilted Uryū’s lips, “You can’t even dream of overpowering me with that Gigai.”

“You don’t even have half my muscle mass. We’re literally the reason why there are weight classes in wrestling. In fact I would love to see you take a swing at me. That is if you can face your enemies head on instead of using surprise attacks and depending on others to hold down your target,” Grimmjow replied tartly. He was still sore about that night. He didn’t like being pushed into that unthinking state. Nor did he enjoy how the memories of Kurosaki caring for him that night held a permanent home in his mind.

“If Kurosaki hadn’t held me back I would have eliminated you on the spot. I knew you were going to cause problems,” the Quincy spat.

“Oh yeah, because my intentions were always a secret. Unlike you and the rest of Kurosaki’s f*cked up friends I don’t hide sh*t. How many times have I said that I plan to kill Kurosaki? I’m honest because I know I’m a monster and I own it and I don’t give a sh*t about what people say otherwise. Compared to the rest of you I look like a f*cking saint. Even I can see the irony in that!” Grimmjow exclaimed.

“You honestly believe that you’re a better person than us? Do you hear how stupid you sound? Don’t hold yourself up to such high standards, Hollow. You can’t lie about being a monster because it’s obvious. You’re a two dimensional animal with a big head—not because you have a large brain, but because you have a massive ego that makes you think you’re a king while everyone else is garbage. You can’t lie because you have nothing to lie for. You’re scum and everyone knows it. Claiming otherwise would be wasting your br—.”

Grimmjow snatched the front of Uryū’s hoodie and yanked him forward until their faces were uncomfortably close, forcing the Quincy to stand on his toes. The human’s eyes widened, but the deep ocean blue irises hardened and refused to look away or be intimidated.

He was an animal?

He had an ego?

He was scum?

Humans uttered the dumbest sh*t. It was so idiotic he wanted to laugh right in the Quincy’s face.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I suddenly forgot who I was because I can pass as a human if I wear a shirt and wrap a scarf over my face? You think I can forget something like that?” Grimmjow asked with a tight jaw.

His blood was boiling. He hated humans. They practically thought of themselves as gods. Praising the few things they did right as if they performed miracles, and buried their mistakes like rotting corpses. They were deceitful and flawed and manipulative pieces of sh*t—just like Aizen. He would love to slaughter them all...but no matter how much Grimmjow relished the thought of bathing in their blood and viscera...he couldn’t give assholes like Uryū the satisfaction. Not with so much at stake. Not when there was a chance his actions could make Kurosaki take their side.

That didn’t mean Grimmjow couldn’t put the fear of Jaegerjaquez in him.

“Even in this Gigai I fight the urge to rip out your throat and feast on your disgusting excuse of a soul. However, I don’t, because even if I were starving I would still choose death over consuming a filthy Quincy. You’re kind carries a stench I find f*cking repulsive. Your so called friend Kurosaki, on the other hand, is a completely different story. His scent is so complex and heavy it’s intoxicating,” fear flashed through Uryū’s eyes and Grimmjow pulled him closer until he was snarling in the human’s face, “Every f*cking day since I got here I’ve been surrounded by his scent. Hell, even without his powers his existence still leaves an impression on everything he touches. The furniture reeks of Kurosaki and the whole damn apartment is flooded with his mark. So you can bet your scrawny, underdeveloped ass that I can recognize his scent, no matter how stale or faint it may be, on a hoodie that is very obviously not yours.”

That fear from before resurfaced at full force, but Grimmjow wasn’t done. Not yet.

“Either we can discuss the philosophical reasons as to why a good natured Quincy such as yourself would be in the possession of Kurosaki’s clothes and hiding it, or you can shut up for once, accept that I’m here and not leaving, and finish shopping before I do get hungry enough to eat whatever living thing I can get my hands on. Up to you,” Grimmjow stated. He released Uryū with a shove and resisted the impulse to cradle his injured hand. He hated how pathetic this Gigai was. This tiny wound would have healed already in his real body. Normally this kind of thing didn’t bother him, but every time his hand throbbed in pain he was reminded of Kurosaki’s face as Grimmjow muted his moans—and that wasn’t something he should be thinking about.

Uryū smoothed the new wrinkles on the hoodie, his eyes avoiding Grimmjow’s piercing gaze. “It’s none of your business.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Grimmjow replied, causing a look of surprise to brighten Uryū’s face, “I don’t need to know jack about your life and to be honest I don’t really want to. Right now all I want is to get this shopping sh*t done, eat some f*cking food because I’m actually really f*cking hungry, and go back to bed. This Gigai drains the life outta me and taking care of Kurosaki at the same time is beyond exhausting. Then I have you and all the others in the Kurosaki Defense Squad riding my ass over Kurosaki’s safety, which I’ve said over and over and over again that I won’t permanently damage him until he’s ready to fight. But then I go and f*ck up. I probably screwed my chances to fight him, all of you are more pissed than ever, and I still can’t f*cking understand why Kurosaki isn’t just as pissed at me if not more than all of you combined. Do you even understand how dramatic and screwed up your world is? I never had to deal with this kind of sh*t in Hueco Mundo. It’s like living in a poorly written soap opera. Which is all of them. All at the same time.”

His head was hurting again. It wasn’t as painful as the one he felt after the incident, but it was still annoying. He knew what a headache was. What he didn’t understand was why his temples and forehead were trying to rip him apart. With a low growl Grimmjow turned his gaze away and closed his eyes, trying to push away the harmful light as he rubbed at his throbbing temples. He should have stayed in Hueco Mundo. Dealing with this many people and their problems was far too frustrating. He didn’t know how Kurosaki managed it. Although the source of his problem was Kurosaki, so the brat probably wasn’t having as many issues as he was.

“Are you...are you seriously stressed out?”

Grimmjow bristled and shot a glare at the Quincy. “Excuse you?”

Uryū sighed, shoulders slumping as the venom drained from his body, making him appear tired all over again, and gestured at the back of his head. “Massage the base of your skull for a few minutes. Should help reduce the pain if not completely get rid of it. You have a tension headache. We’ll grab some aspirin before we leave.”

“I’m not stressed. I don’t get stressed,” Grimmjow argued. His fingers brushed the base of his skull, debating on whether or not he should listen to the Quincy.

“Everyone gets stressed. Especially those who deal with Ichigo on a daily basis,” Uryū replied, his thumb gliding down the list of groceries.

“Was that a joke?”

Uryū peered over his glasses at the Arrancar and snorted, “Apparently not.”

Grimmjow blinked before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you being creepily friendly? You gonna poison me with aspirin? Is that what that stuff is?”

“Aspirin is a white, crystalline substance, derivative of salicylic acid, used as an anti-inflammatory agent and to relieve headaches, among other pains. It’s not a poison. Granted you can overdose, but I’m not going to make you swallow a whole bottle. You only need two tablets,” Uryū explained.

“...Then can you explain Mr. I-Should’ve-Killed-You from a few moments ago because I’m getting f*cking whiplash from this sudden character change,” Grimmjow huffed. He carefully pressed his fingers to the base of his skull and began massaging the tense muscle.

The human shrugged as he grabbed a few cups of ramen and dropped them into his basket. “You piss me off and I hate your guts—,” Uryū’s eyes glanced to Grimmjow’s stomach, right where his Hollow hole would reside, “or lack thereof—but if you’re stressed that means you really are upset by what you did and are concerned about Ichigo’s wellbeing. As much as someone like you can, that is. Plus, I made a promise to Ichigo long ago to not bring harm to you.”

A promise? Was that the same as the deal Kurosaki made with Kisuke?

“What promise?” Grimmjow asked.

The Quincy pinned him with a deadpan stare before pointing over his shoulder. “What we need is in the next aisle over.”

“Answer the damn question, jackass,” Grimmjow growled.

“I planned to. Just shut up and follow me,” Uryū huffed, then regained his composure and gestured for Grimmjow to follow.

He really wanted to deck this human.

“The promise wasn’t solely about you, but you are involved,” Uryū explained, “Ichigo asked all of us to do two things. First, not to kill any Arrancar that might come into the World of the Living. Second, not to tell the Soul Society of their existence.”

Grimmjow’s brow furrowed. “Why would Kurosaki want to protect us? We tried to murder him and pretty much everyone he knows.”

“Not all Arrancar are evil,” Uryū said with a shrug, “Ichigo made a few friends while we were in Hueco Mundo. I assume that’s who he wanted to protect.”

That’s right. The little green haired Arrancar who turned into a woman and her so called brothers. Of course Kurosaki was trying to protect them. ...Then why was he using that deal for him?

“What’s wrong with Ichigo?”

Grimmjow blinked as he was pulled from his thoughts. Uryū stared at him expectantly. The Arrancar frowned. “You don’t know?”

“Ichigo hasn’t exactly been talking to any of us for roughly four years. That condition hasn’t improved since the incident,” Uryū replied, his eyes busy reading the nutrition listings on a can, “His spiritual pressure has returned, I can feel trace amounts of it on the list and on you, but there’s something off about it.”

Grimmjow studied the Quincy. He always forgot how short the man was compared to him. Uryū was always so proud and confident that he carried himself as if he were a much bigger man than he really was. Now that illusion was gone. All that was left behind was a five foot nine, scrawny, and deflated Quincy. A human worried about his friend. He didn’t owe Uryū an answer. He shouldn’t give him one either, but seeing the Quincy like this creeped him the f*ck out. And despite his feelings about Kurosaki’s friends, these people were still important to Kurosaki whether he wants them to be or not. They were his support system. A sh*tty support system, sure, but it was all the kid had. Leaving them in the dark would only cause more drama and Grimmjow literally couldn’t handle any more of that bullsh*t.

“Physically he’s fine. For a while he was struggling to breathe and couldn’t do anything on his own, but recently he’s been able to attend school and work for a few hours,” Grimmjow sighed as he massaged the base of his neck harder, “The problem is when he leaves his body.”

“What do you mean?” Uryū asked cautiously. Grimmjow pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and dug through his small collection of photos before holding it out to the Quincy. Uryū took the phone from his hands and his eyes widened.

“That day I nearly killed Kurosaki, I think my spiritual pressure triggered his inner Hollow and awakened it,” he said.

Uryū looked at him in wild disbelief. “His Hollow still exists?”

“Apparently so. Although this time around the Hollow isn’t merged with his soul like it should be. Looks more like a mutated heart sticking four inches outta his chest,” Grimmjow sighed. He dropped his hand back to his side. The massage wasn’t helping at all. Neither was this topic.

“Shouldn’t the Hollow be removed? According to the Visords, the fusion of a Hollow and a Soul Reaper is deadly and dangerous. If it puts Ichigo in harm's way, wouldn’t this be the best time to separate the two?” Uryū asked.

Grimmjow expected for the Quincy’s words to hold a sharp, poisonous edge that mocked his race, but they didn’t. Uryū wasn’t trying to insult him or his kind, just genuinely concerned about Kurosaki’s wellbeing. Sometimes Grimmjow wasn’t even sure the Quincy actually hated Hollows. It seemed to be more of a ruse to uphold appearances.

“It’s not that simple. Things with Kurosaki rarely are,” Grimmjow replied with a snort, “You’re thinking of Kurosaki and his Hollow as being two separate entities. Unlike Visords—or even Arrancars like myself, Kurosaki wasn’t altered or modified to be a newly, man made species. He’s not two pieces of a puzzle forced together. Kurosaki is, true to form, something entirely different. We were created by experiments, Kurosaki was created naturally.”

Uryū stared at him in confusion. “How can a human be naturally created with a Hollow fused to their soul?”

It wasn’t his place to talk about any of this. It was Ichigo’s decision to share his past with his friends, not Grimmjow. But Kurosaki hid everything. His enemy shouldn’t be the only one helping him through this. His enemy shouldn’t be helping at all. Besides, Uryū would be useful to both of them if he knew the truth, so he opened his big mouth and told the Quincy everything. How Isshin and Masaki met, who they both were, what they both were, and what brought them together. The truth affected Uryū as deeply as it did Kurosaki. To the point where the Quincy ran his fingers through his tangled hair with a pained scowl.

“That’s...that’s a really big mess. What the hell was Isshin thinking keeping a secret like that?” Uryū turned his ocean eyes back to Grimmjow, “Does Urahara know what’s going on with the Hollow?”

“Not a clue. At least not yet. Kurosaki is going to visit him again this weekend to see if they can figure anything out,” Grimmjow shrugged.

Impregnable silence built between them as they continued to shop. Uryū seemed to be trapped inside his mind, formulating solutions to Kurosaki’s health. Grimmjow didn’t bother to force a conversation. Whatever the Quincy was planning wouldn’t involve him, and he was glad to have a moment of peace. This week—two weeks?—have been an absolute mess. From f*cking up Kurosaki to literally nearly f*cking Kurosaki, all of it had taken a massive toll on his mind and body. He needed a nice forty year nap.

“When Ichigo gets better, I can teach him how to use his Quincy powers.”

Grimmjow’s distant eyes focused on Uryū. He was hoping the Quincy would say that. “I’ll pass it along.”

“You’re really going to tell Ichigo for me?”

Apparently that was harder to believe than Kurosaki being a Soul Reaper, Hollow, Quincy, and human hybrid.

It was kind of insulting.

“I’ve said it a billion times that I want Kurosaki to fight me with everything he’s got. That includes Quincy abilities,” Grimmjow said with a snort.

Uryū looked away. Grimmjow had thought that answer would satisfy him. The Quincy had a legitimate reason to spend time with Kurosaki and actually be helpful, all the while making it possible that Kurosaki will be victorious in their battle. Instead, Uryū looked marginally upset. Humans were ridiculous.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” Uryū asked quietly.

Grimmjow shrugged again. “Depends on what you’re asking.”

The heavy basket moved from one hand to the other, allowing Uryū to stretch his tired fingers. “What happened to your hand?”

His bruised thumb twitched, but the rest of his body didn’t budge at the question. “I got into a fight with my Kaizō Konpaku. Dumbass was making me look like a fool in my Gigai and pissed me off. Technically this wound is self inflicted,” Grimmjow replied as he raised his hand wiggled his thumb.

It was an easy lie. Even a lie detector wouldn’t have been able to say he was fibbing. Hell, Grimmjow would have believed it himself if it didn’t come from his own mouth. Yet Uryū didn’t seem to buy it at all. The Quincy nodded and acted as if he accepted the answer, but the look in his eyes stated otherwise. On some level he knew the truth behind the wound. They both knew who really bit his hand until it bruised and bled. And they both knew why. Neither of them were willing to address it.

“That day you hurt Ichigo...what did you mean about us not knowing why he grew out his hair?”

This he didn’t have to lie about.

“I never saw it myself since I was half dead at the time, but there were a lotta rumors floating around after the war. They were about the Soul Reaper who took down Aizen and a Vasto Lorde that killed Ulquiorra. Both were described to have long orange hair. I doubt it could be anyone besides Kurosaki. No one else has hair like that. If it was him, those two times were when he was most powerful. In his current state I don’t blame him for trying to feel like he’s still connected to that immense power he once had,” Grimmjow shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “The bastard is depressed out of his goddamn mind and usually people like that cut off their hair, not grow it. That’s just my theory, though. I don’t know the kid well enough to be sure.”

Uryū chuckled in return. The sound was painful. Brittle and broken, choked out and spat out like blood. The sorrowful smile on his face was even worse. It was like someone had ripped out his heart and Grimmjow had a theory as to whom that might be.

“Maybe not,” Uryū mused, his eyes distant and sad, “but I think you know him better than I ever did.”

~***~

“...Hold on, I had to have heard that wrong. Repeat that bullsh*t you just said,” Grimmjow demanded.

Ichigo shrugged as he dug through a kitchen cabinet. “I said I don’t wanna learn how to use my Quincy powers. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong wi—are you f*cking serious? It’s literally a part of who you are—a piece of your power—and you don’t want to learn how to control it?” Grimmjow spat. His headache was back again. He had a feeling no amount of aspirin was going to get rid of this one.

“Quincies eradicate Hollows permanently. Whatever Hollow they kill, no matter who they are, they will never be given a chance to go to the Soul Society. They distort the balance between the four worlds and I don’t want to be part of it,” Ichigo said, grumbling as he removed a few cook books to reach deeper into the cabinet.

What a load of bullsh*t.

“It’s a f*cking connection to your mother. The center of your universe. For some reason I really f*cking doubt that you don’t want to learn how to use that ability,” Grimmjow said pointedly.

“I share DNA with my mother. I’m already connected to her. I told you how destructive Quincy powers are and you know first hand how dangerous they are to your species. I’m not going to use that power against any Hollow,” Ichigo replied.

“Okay, fine, whatever. Your mother aside, no one's telling you that you have to kill Hollows with—,” Grimmjow paused, his stomach twisting as realization washed over him, “Kurosaki, you better not be acting like a moron because of me.”

Ichigo sighed and dropped his head. He pulled his hands from the cabinet and turned to face Grimmjow with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter. “I’m not acting like a moron. Those powers really are incredibly destructive to Hollows. So, yeah, I don’t want to use them against you. There’s no telling what it could do to you.”

Grimmjow’s jaw hung loosely, completely flabbergasted by the ginger’s words. It took a few moments for him to close his mouth, his eye twitching as he clenched his jaw tightly. “What the f*ck do you think I’m doing here, Kurosaki?” he snarled through his teeth.

The boy scowled and turned his back to the Arrancar to continue his search.

“I asked you a goddamn question! What do you think I’m here for, Kurosaki? Do I need to remind you? Because it sure as hell isn’t to become one of your little friends who needs to be protected by some human punk. I came here to tear you apart limb by limb and I expect you to do the same to me,” Grimmjow barked, seething with rage he hadn’t felt in years, “You aren’t supposed to give a sh*t about my state of being except for bloody and dead. I’m your enemy! You’re supposed to come at me with everything you have and I do the same to you, and in the end one of us is going to be skewered on the other’s blade!”

The cabinet door suddenly slammed shut, the sharp sound causing Grimmjow to jump as his ears rang. The ginger was tense. Every muscle in his body was coiled and ready to burst—when suddenly he deflated. Kurosaki turned, setting a large bottle of some type of alcohol on the counter as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Grimmjow, as hard as it is for you to believe, I don’t want to kill you. I never have and I doubt I ever will,” Ichigo stated honestly.

Grimmjow bristled. What the hell was he saying? They were enemies. Hollow versus Soul Reaper. Monster versus human. They were supposed to want blood and chaos.

“What kinda bullsh*t are you trying to pull, Kurosaki? We’re f*cking enemies! The whole point of being enemies is wanting to destroy each other!” Grimmjow said, resisting the urge to pull out his hair. Being around Kurosaki had made him realize that he talked with his hands a lot. More often than not those wild gestures and the strangulation of invisible necks was induced by frustration. Which was usually aimed at Kurosaki and his nonsense ideals and bleeding heart concepts.

“I’m your enemy,” Ichigo’s eyes were steady, “You aren’t mine.”

That was by far the most moronic thing he had ever heard—and that included every syllable regurgitated out of the mouth of Yammy.

His unvoiced thoughts were easily expressed by his twitching fingers and eyelid, two screaming actions brown irises observed. Ichigo’s eyes connected with Grimmjow’s before they fell. His shoulders dropped lower as he took hold of the bottle’s neck once again and dragged it off the counter, the glass singing from the action. “It doesn’t matter, anyways. Quincy powers or not, you’re still going to fight me. We made a deal. I won’t go back on that,” Ichigo murmured as he twisted the cap off and pushed himself away from the counter.

Grimmjow’s stomach flipped at the sight of the bottle. Ichigo didn’t drink often—at least not in front of him—but every time he did it wasn’t a pretty sight. Alcohol changed him completely. The human didn’t become violent or angry while under the influence, but honestly Grimmjow would’ve preferred that to the discombobulated, emotional mess he usually turned into. He had read a bit about the effects alcohol has on humans in a psychology book hidden among Kurosaki’s collection. With the ginger’s current state of being, anything that was considered a depressant was something he should greatly avoid. There was no benefit to consuming it either, unless it was wine, but what rested in his hand was far from an aged grape. The only reason why Kurosaki drank was for a distraction.

A distraction.

“I don’t know the kid well enough to be sure.”

“Maybe not...but I think you know him better than I ever did.”

“What’s wrong with you, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow asked, his voice careful and his face serious, “You’re not acting like yourself.”

More accurately, he was acting like himself, a version of himself that Grimmjow hated to see.

The ginger refused to meet his eyes. At first Grimmjow thought he was going to have to beat an answer out of Kurosaki, when fortunately he finally spoke. “Work called. Due to my frequent absences they fired me. I have money saved up so we can still buy food and gas, and luckily Uryū paid for a years’ worth of rent...but I dunno how I’m going to pay for my classes. Finding a new job isn’t going to be easy either. Not while I’m still this weak.”

He lost his job because of his health. No wonder Kurosaki didn’t want to tell him the truth. He didn’t want Grimmjow to blame himself for what happened. Kinda hard to ignore the obvious fact that he really was responsible for this whole mess. He was here to bring back the boy’s powers, but so far all he had done is burn through Kurosaki’s money, physically harm him while in a weakened state, and lost his only source of income. Why was it so hard for Kurosaki to see him as an enemy when he did sh*t like that?

Frankly, Grimmjow wasn’t supposed to care. It was merely collateral damage and in no way affected the Arrancar or the human’s powers. It shouldn’t matter to him at all. But it did. He knew Kurosaki wasn’t going to stop drinking unless he found something else to distract him from his sh*tshow of a life.

Damnit.

Before Ichigo could walk past him, Grimmjow caught the boy’s hand, the lip of the bottle seconds away from kissing the ginger’s lips. Kurosaki gave him a confused look as Grimmjow pulled the bottle from his grasp and set it aside. His fingers lingered on the smooth glass, allowing himself a few seconds to really think about what he was doing before he took hold of Ichigo’s hips and pinned him back against the counter. Kurosaki’s hands flew back to steady himself, his hand knocking over the bottle with a loud clankas its contents spilled across the marble.

The mess going ignored, pale fingers tightened on his hips as a light blush dusted Ichigo’s face while he stammered in confusion, “G-Grimmjow?”

No one had the right to look that cute when he was pissed at them. No one had the right to worry about him either. He was an undead monster responsible for thousands upon thousands of murders, including the deaths of his family from his human life and countless Arrancar, his own allies. No one should worry about whether or not he’s alive. No one should worry about making him feel guilty. No one had a reason to. Hell, he barely had a reason to care himself and honestly Grimmjow didn’t think it was a huge leap for people to blame him for everything that happened because it usually was his fault. But this stupid, stubborn, confusing mother f*cker did care and he never blamed him.

None of this made any sense.

“If you need a distraction don’t drink that sh*t. It’s disgusting,” Grimmjow muttered, unable to reach the ginger’s eyes as he stared at the marks on his neck, “I hate the smell of it. And I’m not gonna let you use me as an excuse to turn yourself into that pathetic, self hating bitch.”

Ichigo’s adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow, a serious scowl weighing heavily on his brow. “Why are you doing this?”

The Arrancar released one of Kurosaki’s hips and brushed his fingers over the deep impression of his teeth on the boy’s throat. The contrast in texture of Kurosaki’s soft skin versus his engraved mark was remarkable. He had never felt anything so amazing before. His touch ignited goosebumps to appear under his fingertips, the sight of sunkissed flesh in such a state causing Grimmjow to shiver.

“Thought you said we were enemies?” Ichigo asked breathlessly. The words were stated as if he were attempting to find a way out this situation. Both of them knew it was a lie.

Kurosaki was a sh*tty lier, but always tried to get away with it. Grimmjow was a natural, but hardly bothered to cover the truth. Denying reality was equal to running away with a tail between the legs. He refused to be that person. He could admit that Kurosaki was beautiful. He could admit that Kurosaki drove him crazy in both a hateful sense and that of lust. He could admit that he hated seeing Kurosaki depressed and defeated. He could admit that on some twisted level he was actually proud of Kurosaki’s progress and development with his powers, and proud to be the one who helped him come this far. He could admit that he found it difficult to sleep without Kurosaki beside him. He could admit that Kurosaki’s current illness worried him. He could admit that Kurosaki was the closest thing to an angel the world would ever be blessed with—because it was all true.

Grimmjow’s nails gently scratched the tender skin, the action causing the boy’s breath to hitch. He shouldn’t have enjoyed that response as much as he did.

He could admit to a lot of things.

The catch is that no one ever asked questions.

“You don’t have to be friends to do what we did last night,” Grimmjow replied. He doesn’t have to like Kurosaki either. As he said before: sex was sex. Who he did it with didn’t matter. At least it didn’t used to.

“I doubt enemies do thi—f*ck!”

A single blue brow lifted as he continued to press his thigh between Kurosaki’s legs. He hated it when Kurosaki drank. That sh*t smelled worse than death and turned the brat into a completely different person. Seeing the ginger in such a state felt beyond wrong. Wrong enough that kissing those lips, marking that sunkissed skin, and allowing those rough hands to touch his body paled in comparison.

“Do you want a distraction,” the Arrancar’s fingers grabbed Kurosaki’s shirt and pulled the boy closer to murmur in his ear, “or do you want to keep pissing me off?”

His teeth nipped at Ichigo’s lobe as he rolled his hips forward. The human’s responding gasp triggered from feeling the beginnings of Grimmjow’s erection against his hip caused the corners of the Arrancar’s lips to curve.

“There a way we can do both?” Ichigo panted, his fingers clawing at Grimmjow’s waffle knit sweatshirt like a lifeline, fingers digging deep into the muscle of his arms. The urge to flex his biceps—to show off his body and bask in Kurosaki’s compliments—was unimaginably strong, but he restrained himself.

“I think we can manage that,” Grimmjow chuckled, seconds before sinking his teeth into Ichigo’s bruised flesh, drinking in every moan that spilled from pink lips.

Grimmjow could admit it.

They both needed a distraction.

They both had their reasons.

They dealt with it the only way they could: flesh between their teeth and under their nails, hearts beating in unison, struggling to breathe with the only other person who understood.

Chapter 34: Red Myocardium White Myocardium

Chapter Text

Seeing Kurosaki like this was painful.

Grimmjow had lost track of the last time Kurosaki had eaten—or even made an attempt to eat.

Or if that attempt even lead to him swallowing the tiny bit of food instead if spitting it out and gagging at the dense flavor of ash.

Malnourishment was severely damaging Kurosaki’s body. The brat wouldn’t admit it but he was beyond frail. His idiotic resistance to nutrients made him so weak that he couldn’t train, much less leave his body without collapsing under his own weight. As much as Grimmjow hated being unable to further their progress, he wasn’t stupid enough to push Kurosaki to his breaking point. So instead of exercising the human’s spiritual pressure in the vast training grounds Grimmjow found himself glaring at Ichigo in an attempt to keep the ginger still as Urahara studied the growth in his chest. It wasn’t an easy task. Doctors made the worst patients, but the offspring of doctors were impossible. If he weren’t so physically weak, Grimmjow was positive the brat would have made a run for it long ago.

Gloved fingers caught the attention of Grimmjow’s keen eyes, tentatively approaching the throbbing, white mass—and were instantly slapped away before making contact.

“Ow! What the hell, Jaegerjaquez!” Kisuke snapped as he rubbed his wounded hand.

“You can’t just touch it! I told you that if you do it’ll hurt you and Kurosaki. Do you f*cking scientists ever listen?” Grimmjow barked back.

“Just because something happens once doesn’t mean the same reaction is guaranteed,” Urahara retorted.

“Just because I resist the urge to smack the stupid outta you once doesn’t mean I can guarantee I won’t beat the sh*t out of you if you f*cking touch the f*cking Hollow when I f*cking told you not to, twice,” Grimmjow fired back.

The ex-Soul Reaper didn’t appear to take his threat seriously, evident by the bored and exasperated stare on his face, but pulled his hands away from Kurosaki regardless. The nature of his relationship with the blonde had changed and it was obvious. Where Grimmjow had ignored and avoided conversation with Urahara was now active defiance and irritability. Where Urahara had worn a friendly mask with poisonous words, now rested open anger and resentment. It seemed that neither of them were willing to deal with the other’s bullsh*t anymore. The one positive that came out of the incident.

Despite their differences and dislike of one another, at least he and Urahara had a common goal: to return Kurosaki back to normal. Even with their arguments the whole situation would’ve been smooth sailing to a solution if they weren’t being opposed by the world’s most stubborn creature, Ichigo Kurosaki. It had become apparent that Kurosaki was one of those people who waited out illnesses instead of seeking help and medication. Pretty ironic for the son of a doctor. Then again, Kurosaki practically raised himself, so on some level it made sense.

Overall it was just f*cking stupid.

“It looks like the Hollow has grown,” Urahara mused.

“It has,” Grimmjow replied, shooting Ichigo another glare before he could dismiss the truth, ignoring the glare he received in return.

“And he hasn’t been eating?”

“Not a thing. He can manage water and other beverages, but even then that’s rare.” Mostly because Grimmjow refused to let Kurosaki drink himself into stupidity.

“I’m right here. I can speak for myself,” Ichigo piped up, voiced rigid and annoyed.

“Can you speak without lying?” Grimmjow countered sarcastically.

The ginger rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

“Well, bad news on bad news,” Kisuke said as he straightened his back and disposed of his gloves, “Growing means spreading. With you not eating it’s made you weaker, and in turn easier for your Hollow to consume you. At this rate it’ll kill you if we don’t do something.”

That was not the news Grimmjow was wanting to hear. “Is there a way to stop it?”

Urahara sighed and pushed his hat down lower. “Not that I know of. This is something that has never been seen before. Even with Mrs. Kurosaki the fusion of her and the Hollow reacted and functioned differently. This is the same Hollow but an entirely different person with a complex genetic background and a natural fusion between a Hollow and a human. Before it was, in essence, like hammering two souls together. With Ichigo, he and the Hollow are already one person. Separating the two would cause tremendous pain and possibly death.”

“Even if it didn’t kill me it would destroy my powers. Or at least weaken them significantly,” Ichigo interrupted as he stared down at the white heart then back at them, “Don’t forget that a majority of my abilities comes from my Hollow. Take him away and I’ll probably return back to a normal human.”

There were nothing but bad choices. Everyone under the sun knew that Kurosaki would rather die than live without his powers again. That possibility was quickly becoming more than a manner of speech.

Grimmjow sighed to himself as he rubbed and squeezed the stiff muscle on his shoulder. There had to be an answer to this. There was an answer to everything. Allowing the Hollow to spread further and letting Ichigo waste away from malnourishment wasn’t an option for obvious reasons. Simply tearing it free held serious repercussions of either death or powerlessness. Plus, removing the heart meant removing the Chain of Fate and at that point there was no telling what would happen to Kurosaki. All of this would be so much easier if they could just tal—

Grimmjow lifted his head to stare at the ginger. What had he said when they were in the car all that time ago? To rescue that Soul Reaper he trained with Urahara to get his powers back. Their training hadn’t been that different from Urahara’s when it came down to the essential goals. They both made him sensitive to spiritual beings. They both encouraged him to exercise his spiritual pressure. The key difference in their methods was speed. Grimmjow hadn’t wanted to rush Kurosaki into regaining his powers because they were literally starting from scratch. Urahara was trying to pull out the power already residing inside Kurosaki with an added time limit. Plus, Grimmjow hadn’t demanded for Kurosaki’s Chain of Fate to be broken. The only way a human could gain power is to have their Chain of Fate severed from their body, but it was too risky. Even without the possibility of his Hollow still existing, Kurosaki was bound to the same rules as all other humans. Cutting ties to the human body, rejecting it in a sense, opened the soul to possibilities unattainable by a feeble human form. For instance, becoming a Hollow was the most prominent reaction—but hearing the voice of a zanpakutō was another. Grimmjow never suggested such a thing because Kurosaki didn’t have anything to fall back onto if everything went south.

Now that wasn’t the case.

“What if you talked to him?”

Ichigo raised his eyes to Grimmjow’s gaze and blinked, leaving the Arrancar faintly aware of Urahara watching him as well.

“What do you mean?” Ichigo asked, perplexed.

“Exactly what it sounds like. Talk to the Hollow. The same way you talked to Zangetsu when you first gained your powers to rescue that Soul Reaper.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened at his words and Grimmjow felt his body begin to buzz with anticipated excitement. The answer was right there and it was so simple. He felt like an idiot for not seeing it before.

“Would that even be possible?” Urahara asked with an uncertain frown on his lips, “A Hollow and a zanpakutō are two separate entities entirely.”

“They are, but only in a normal situation. Kurosaki’s Hollow isn’t technically just a Hollow. It’s a part of him and a part of his power, the same as Zangetsu,” Grimmjow said with a smile beginning to curl on his lips, “It’s not such a huge leap that it wouldn’t be worth trying.”

“But is Ichigo’s Hollow even able to communicate? Every time it made an appearance it was reported to be more animalistic than...well, anything really,” Urahara asked.

“He’s not like that.”

Their eyes moved back to Kurosaki, who looked truly hopeful for the first time in who knows how long. That smile on his lips shouldn’t have made Grimmjow’s heart flutter the way it did.

“My Hollow is more like a zanpakutō than people expect. I’ve spoken to him in my Inner World plenty of times to know that it would work if we tried. If anyone would know how to fix this or bring my powers back it would be him,” Ichigo replied with a giddy jingle in his voice.

Neither of them could stop grinning. Ichigo’s was larger without contest, but the smile Grimmjow wore was no less honest. He couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely smiled instead of that wolfish smirk that split his face in two. It didn’t matter because either way he had a true smile on his face and it was directed right at Kurosaki. That really didn’t make sense but things with Kurosaki seldom ever did.

“Do either of you understand how dangerous that is? To speak to the Hollow the Chain of Fate has to be cut and he has to be able to reach it before the Hollow takes over. In Ichigo’s weakened state and with the Hollow already physically developing in his soul form there’s a massive chance the Hollow will completely take over,” Urahara stated seriously.

Grimmjow eagerly opened his mouth to reply. So what? Ichigo would still be there. He may lose his humanity, among other things, but he would still have his power and he wouldn’t be sick anymore. It was like asking someone if they’d rather amputate a limb or die. Where was the problem—

Immediately Grimmjow bit his tongue upon seeing Kurosaki’s face. The amount of fear and anxiety radiating from him was disgusting. Becoming a Hollow clearly wasn’t an option for him. Grimmjow had nearly forgotten that deep down the brat was a Soul Reaper and a human first. Turning into a Hollow was a fate worse than death itself. He’d rather die than lose his heart. He’d rather be powerless than a Hollow. The smile on Grimmjow’s face soured as he swallowed the vile words he was desperate to spit. It was unfair. They had a chance to save Kurosaki and bring him power and they were going to throw it away. All because they despised his species. Grimmjow ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he crossed his arms over his chest—trying to dismiss the painful ache beneath his sternum.

“No matter what he does he’ll end up dead. So he might as well try, right?” Grimmjow said, a scowl darkening his face.

Ichigo stared at the white tissue protruding from his chest and shook his head. “Grimmjow’s right. This is an issue between life and death. We can’t waste this chance.”

Urahara searched Ichigo’s eyes before he sighed and pushed back his hat to scratch his head. “Alright then. We’ll give it a shot. But if you can’t make contact or your Hollow decides to take over, the only option left to save you is removing the Hollow from your chest. And even at that rate I’m not sure that won’t end up killing you either. Are you sure about this?”

Ichigo smiled crookedly. “I’m not really known for taking the safe route.”

A plan was made and quickly set into motion—but Kurosaki was dragging his feet. Literally. While Urahara made preparations with the help of his assistant Tessai, Ichigo stubbornly struggled to carry his own body down the hall. It took him two whole minutes to get a good hold on his arms and the brat still had trouble with actually moving the body. It was so pathetic watching him exhaust himself and sweat from attempting to move his own corpse that Grimmjow felt his previous anger soften. This definitely wasn’t the time to be defensive. It’s not like he could blame Kurosaki for rejecting the concept of being a Hollow. When Hollows regain sentience the emotionally weak often destroyed themselves because of what they had done. Kurosaki was the type who would rather die than kill the innocent. Or kill anyone for that matter.

Without a word Grimmjow batted Ichigo’s hands away from his limp human body and hoisted the dead weight over his shoulder with ease. He really had lost a lot of weight.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Ichigo asked with a quirked brow. “It’ll take us forever to get down there if you’re supplying the muscle. I’m just tryin’ to speed things up,” Grimmjow replied with a shrug.

Before Ichigo could respond he was suddenly swept off his feet with one strong arm under his knees and an arm around his back, holding him firmly against the Arrancar’s chest. A blush burst across the ginger’s cheeks as his hands took large fistfuls of Grimmjow’s thin shirt and pushed back as if trying to escape from the hold.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing!” Ichigo stammered with a scowl. The brat tried so hard to be angry. He couldn’t even lie with his eyes. They gave away everything.

“What does it look like, stupid? We don’t have all day and I’m tired of pitying you because you can’t drag your body five feet without passing out,” he scoffed.

The fingers clawing at his shirt dug deeper, nails scratching his pale skin as Ichigo’s eye twitched. “Okay, I get that, but why are you carrying me like this?”

Grimmjow snorted and rolled his eyes as he continued their walk. “Get your head outta the clouds, Kurosaki. If I held you any other way I would’ve touched the Hollow. I don’t plan on getting burned again. Although I do find it rather ridiculous that we’ve touched each other’s dicks a few times but you blush harder from me holding you,” he scoffed.

“There’s a difference between getting each other off and carrying me like I’m your f*cking bride!” Ichigo hissed, immediately wincing from his own volume and glancing to see if anyone happened to hear his noisy declaration.

The corners of Grimmjow’s lips curled as a humored gleam twinkled in his eyes. “An’ here I thought you were a prude, but really you’re just a dirty bastard with a kink for being doted on. That’s pretty soft, Kurosaki,” he mocked. Soft but not unexpected. He was definitely the romantic type, if the human’s vast collection of love poetry was anything to go by. People like Kurosaki normally sickened him and made him beyond uncomfortable but there was just enough moody douchebag inside the ginger to make him tolerable.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking a gentle touch and adoration,” Ichigo snapped defensively, then quickly turned his eyes away, “Not that you’d understand that.”

Grimmjow’s light blue eyes traced the curves of Ichigo’s cheek and lips before shifting his gaze to battle scarred hands. Kurosaki was nearly as violent as he was during their distractions but he also had a soft edge to him. Sure, he’d bite the Arrancar’s lips and scratch the hell outta his back enough that it would sting in the shower later, but there were things he did afterwards that were gentle. For instance, the human had gotten into the habit of combing his fingers through wavy blue locks at night. Just above Grimmjow’s ears, Kurosaki would brush his fingertips through his hair over and over again until the methodical action made the Arrancar drowsy. The first time the ginger had done it he nearly bit his hand off. Grimmjow was not a fan of someone touching him outside of battle. Actually, even during battle it pissed him off. When Kurosaki tried again he was already half asleep. Having fingers graze such a tender spot in such a careful and caring way...Grimmjow didn’t really see the need to stop him. It helped him sleep, too, and with the recent stress of literally everything he didn’t see a reason to stop him. Then there were times his Gigai couldn’t keep up with his active personality and caused muscle aches and pains, all of which Kurosaki willingly massaged away without being asked. And Grimmjow could never forget his random touches. Whether Kurosaki was trying to get his attention, lead him, or generally sooth him with a simple touch, they had the same effect they always did: warming the Arrancar’s skin with fire. Metaphorical fire or not, Grimmjow couldn’t deny that Kurosaki’s hands had a tendency to take away the cold from his flesh and cause an army of goosebumps to rise. And they way Kurosaki looked at him...he never expected anyone to look at him in such a way. Grimmjow wouldn’t say that he actively sought out that gentle type of attention, but he didn’t hate it.

“I understand both of those, actually,” Grimmjow said, “It’s the compliments I don’t get. People only tell others what they want to hear to manipulate them. I don’t want to be reminded that I’m being used when I’m trying to get off.”

He tore his eyes away when Ichigo looked at him.

“...Is that...is that what you think sex is? Like, anything sexual between you and another person...you think they’re just using you?”

The disbelief in the ginger’s voice made him want to keep his mouth shut, like he gave the wrong answer to the wrong question. He should keep his thoughts to himself like he always had, but Ichigo was different. He was one of those weird people he could actually trust.

The Arrancar lifted his shoulders in a half hearted shrug. “That’s what it is. But it’s not like I wasn’t using them, too. I just don’t like hearing compliments. There’s no reason to lie and butter me up when we’re already f*cking,” he replied honestly.

Silence built between them like a wall. He could hear the gears in Ichigo’s head spinning and clicking a mile a minute, but the boy was still at a loss for words. Didn’t matter anyways. Grimmjow knew the truth. That was the agenda of sexual interactions: to get off. It didn’t necessarily matter if the partner got what they wanted. It was a completely selfish act.

“Um, not that you were fishing for this, but you know I’m not trying to use you, right? I mean, I know you stop me from giving you compliments during...that stuff, but...when I say them it isn’t to manipulate or use you. It’s how I honestly feel and I never intended to use them against you. And I...I don’t like to think that I’m using you to get off. I don’t really...hook up with people often. I’m kinda picky about my partners and my goal isn’t to please only myself. I want you to feel as good as I do,” Ichigo stammered through his speech with an embarrassed blush on his face, but his eyes were sincere.

Why was Kurosaki like this?

A small smirk twisted Grimmjow’s lips as he snickered. “You? Having a wrongful intent that could hurt someone? I doubt that’s even physically possible for you,” he teased.

A soft smile brightened Kurosaki’s face and Grimmjow’s heart fluttered again. What a weird human.

“What took you so long?” Urahara asked when they turned a corner, brows vanishing into his hairline at the sight of Ichigo in his arms.

“Brat couldn’t even walk so I had to carry him. Would’ve taken longer if I let him be,” Grimmjow shrugged, all signs of his smile wiped from his face.

Kisuke studied them suspiciously as his nose wrinkled. “You two are creeping me out.”

“We’re creeping you out?” Grimmjow wanted to laugh in his face.

“The severe lack of death threats between you two mixed with Ichigo wearing a turtleneck sweater in this heat is pretty concerning. Even you have to admit that,” Urahara said as he opened the hidden hatch to the training grounds.

“So what? He can wear whatever he wants. What does that even have to do with me?” Grimmjow dismissed as he set Ichigo down on his feet. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“There’s only two reasons to wear a turtleneck in this heat. Ichigo is not Ishida and won’t sacrifice comfort for fashion. So that leaves the second reason and I’m not even gonna dare to say it out loud because dear lord I hope it’s not that reason,” Urahara said with a hint of paternal anger in his voice.

Grimmjow didn’t react at all. Kurosaki, on the other hand, found it impossible to keep eye contact and gave them away.

Kisuke’s shoulders slumped and shook his head with a sigh. “Of course it is. I hope the two of you know what you’re doing because you just created the world’s biggest mess—.”

Before Urahara could react, Grimmjow tilted his hips and lifted his leg, then swung, slamming his heel against the ex-Soul Reaper’s side and forcefully pushing the blonde through the hatch and silently enjoying the massive explosion of curses that came with it.

“Old man talks too much,” Grimmjow snorted as he set Ichigo’s body on the floor, “Give me a second. I’d rather not jump down there in this Gigai.”

He dug through his jeans and pulled out the Kaizō Konpaku, plucking lint off the pill’s hard shell before swallowing it. From the sheer amount of times he’s left his Gigai for training and separating Kurosaki from his body—because that damn glove was still missing—the nausea he felt previously didn’t affect him anymore. The experience was more like taking off his coat than it was shedding his body.

“Do me a favor, Goro, and hang back. I don’t want you getting in the way,” Grimmjow ordered as he rolled his shoulders.

His hand paused the massage he was giving to the muscles on his neck and glanced at the Kaizō Konpaku, curious as to why the man didn’t object to being bossed around. Goro stared down at his hands, watching them with a blend of emotions in his eyes. His eyes seemed particularly attached to the bruised and bitten hand, brushing his fingers over the damaged skin and swallowing sharply.

“Goro?” Grimmjow repeated.

The man’s head snapped up and immediately he dropped his hands. “S-sorry. Yeah. I’ll stay back. I wouldn’t be much help anyways,” his eyes flickered to Ichigo and then dropped to the floor, “I’m designed to fight weaker Hollows. Kurosaki’s Hollow is way outta my league.”

Kurosaki? That was new. Goro usually addressed Ichigo with colorful and lewd nicknames and only occasionally by his first name. Never his surname. Odd or not he didn’t have time to think about the change.

“You ready?” Grimmjow asked, turning back to the ginger.

A soft smile adorned the boy’s lips and made Grimmjow more confused than before. Why was he smiling?

“Whenever you are,” Ichigo replied.

Seriously though, why was he smiling? There was a chance he was going to die and he was smiling?

Dismissing the confusion with a snort he tossed Ichigo’s body over his shoulder once more, relieved to have his full strength back, and pulled Ichigo to his side, arm wrapped tightly around his waist. “You’re f*ckin’ weird, Kurosaki.”

He only had a moment to register the confused look on Ichigo’s face before he jumped through the hatch. The rushing speed of their fall sparked excitement in his chest, but died as soon as they landed, a cloud of dust swallowing their legs and the ground beneath their feet scarred with wide fingerlike cracks. He was dying for some action. Kurosaki wouldn’t want him to hunt Hollows, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stretch his legs every once and a while. He was going to get rusty if he didn’t.

Of course, if this went south, he could kill whoever and whatever he wanted and Kurosaki wouldn’t be able to bitch about it.

For some reason that brought a frown to Grimmjow’s lips.

“Urahara, Ururu and Jinta aren’t around, are they?” Ichigo asked as Grimmjow released his waist and eased his body to the ground.

“Don’t worry about them. Kon took them to the mall before you two showed up. They’ll be gone for a while,” the blonde replied, brushing dust from his hat in an attempt to appear casual. Grimmjow could see how tense his shoulders were. The ex-Soul Reaper really was worried about Kurosaki’s safety.

“Good,” Ichigo sighed in relief.

Grimmjow thumbed the guard of Pantera. She wasn’t pulsing with enthusiasm like she usually did. The blade responded to his touch with a soft hum of spiritual pressure, but she didn’t warm nor roar at the mere chance of being used. Grimmjow’s eyes flickered to Ichigo, watching as the boy took a few steps away from his body while his fingers grazed each chipped link in his chain. If he were to be completely honest with himself...he was worried too. Kurosaki’s chances were slim to begin with, but eliminating the chance for him to live as a Hollow lowered the possibility of his survival dramatically. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Grimmjow? I’m ready when you are,” Ichigo said, interrupting the Arrancar’s thoughts.

Grimmjow lifted his gaze back to the ginger and dismissed his concerns. There’s no way Kurosaki was going to die. The brat was far too stubborn to let that happen. He wasn’t going to lose his powers either. Not on his watch. His hand wrapped around the hilt of Pantera and pulled her free, stroking the blue grip as if to ease the concerned hums of his blade.

“Breathing is going to be even harder after I cut it. Don’t push yourself physically,” Grimmjow warned.

A smirk tilted Ichigo’s lips. “I have done this before, you know.”

True, but it hadn’t been this serious. Grimmjow tore his eyes away and stared at the chain dragging on the desert ground. He parted his lips to speak but the two words he tried to utter clung to his tongue. He swallowed them and opened his mouth once more, the replacement words tumbling from his mouth like an authoritative order, “Stay cautious, Kurosaki.”

He didn’t have to look at Ichigo to know that the human understood what he really meant.

Be careful.

Before anything else could be said Grimmjow lifted his sword high and brought it down with a powerful swing, Pantera’s fangs slicing through the metal like skin. The effects slammed into Kurosaki all at once. It had taken him an hour to breath normally just from being pushed outside of his body, but disconnecting him from it completely tore out his lungs. A strangled curse spilled from Ichigo’s lips as his knees began to shake, determined to stay standing.

What a dumbass.

Sweat pouring down his face, a whine slipped from Ichigo’s throat as his legs started to crumble under him, his arm stretching out in a vain attempt to catch himself on a stone structure. A pale hand caught his elbow in a tight grip and pulled him back onto his feet, allowing sunkissed fingers to claw at his elbow in return as a way for Kurosaki to steady himself. Ichigo peered up at Grimmjow in surprise.

“I told you not to push yourself, dumbass,” Grimmjow said, swallowing the strange emotions fluttering in his chest.

A weak smile touched Ichigo’s lips as his fingers dug deep into Grimmjow elbow, the action causing the Arrancar to tighten his grip as a precaution. “I d...d-don’t listen...very well,” Ichigo joked through his strained pants.

“Stop talking and concentrate,” Grimmjow ordered.

Ichigo nodded in agreement. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, but judging by the pressure behind the boy’s nails and the twisted grimace on his face he was having a hard time concentrating on the task at hand. Getting Kurosaki to relax was like pulling teeth. Just as he opened his mouth to intervene his sharp eyes caught Tessai moving in his peripheral vision and glared at him.

“What are you doing? Back up. You’ll get in the way,” Grimmjow demanded.

“I need to bind Mr. Kurosaki’s arms, otherwise he could harm—.”

The man’s voice vanished when the tip of Pantera nipped at the skin of his throat. Both the blade and Grimmjow radiated vicious malice as the Arrancar bared his teeth. “Don’t f*cking touch Kurosaki,” he snarled.

The ground beneath his feet vanished and Grimmjow’s eyes widened as a massive black hole consumed the ground at an alarming rate. Spitting a curse, Grimmjow pulled Ichigo close to his body, protecting the boy with his own flesh and bone, and held on tightly as they fell. They struck the bottom of the abyss with a shocking boom (luckily on their feet), the ground shaking and threatening to crumble from the impact.

“What the f*ck, Urahara!” Grimmjow roared, “You could’ve gotten Kurosaki killed!”

“He’s already dead, Mr. Arrancar!”

Grimmjow’s eye twitched. “Now is not the time for jokes, you asshole! Why did you—!”

He pushed Ichigo’s head into his chest, shielding the boy’s face as he spun around and slammed his foot into Tessai’s stomach, who has been sneaking up behind them, throwing the man across the abyss and embedding his body deep into hard rock.

“I told you to back off! I can handle Kurosaki and his Hollow!” Grimmjow snapped, “Tying him up will only cause problems! If his Hollow senses a vulnerability in Kurosaki he’ll go ballistic!”

Tessai pulled himself from the rock wall and adjusted his broken glasses as pebbles rolled off his unscathed body. What was this guy made of?

“If Mr. Kurosaki isn’t contained he’ll—.”

“Tessai...it’s okay,” Ichigo pulled back from Grimmjow’s embrace, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “If anything...goes wrong Grimmjow c-can handle it. He’s one of the strongest guys I know.”

Grimmjow resisted the urge to scratch his mask as a strange flutter echoed in the bone from Kurosaki’s compliment.

Tessai studied Ichigo’s eyes before bowing his head. “Alright, Mr. Kurosaki, if that’s what you think is best.”

Blue eyes watched as Tessai left, making sure that he wasn’t going to cause anymore trouble before turning back to Ichigo. He wasn’t expecting to see the light dusting of a blush on the ginger’s cheeks. He would’ve dismissed it as a reaction to having problems with breathing, but the blush had turned the tops of his ears pink. Of all the times to get embarrassed why now? And what for?

“Uh, y-you mind...putting me down?” Ichigo asked, nervously meeting the Arrancar’s eyes.

His hand cradling the back of his head. Their bodies pressed close. Holding Kurosaki’s face to his chest. Protecting him. Okay. Now he understood why the brat was blushing.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, Grimmjow guided Ichigo to sit down on the rocky floor and propped him against the wall. Ichigo smiled, a thanks balanced on the tip of his tongue, when the first encroachment struck. The boy’s eyes widened in horror as his breath hitched from choking on a scream. Panic flooded the stars in Ichigo’s eyes and the sight caused Grimmjow’s mask to ache.

Grimmjow snapped his fingers to get the boy’s attention. “Kurosaki, you’re fine.”

A fearful squeak pushed through Ichigo’s throat, his eyes glued to the gruesome sight of his Chain of Fate as Grimmjow’s words fell on deaf ears.

“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said his name softly as his fingers curled around the end of the chain, their teeth snapping at his skin and shattering from his Heirro, “You’re fine. Focus. I’ll keep an eye on things on this end.”

Ichigo watched as the teeth continued to break over and over again on Grimmjow’s hard skin before meeting the Arrancar’s blue eyes. Eventually he calmed enough to regain his composure. “Thank you, Grimmjow,” he murmured as his eyes slipped closed.

Grimmjow pulled back slowly, granting Ichigo space to meditate and sheathed Pantera. All he could do was watch and wait.

As time went on Grimmjow couldn’t help but feel déjà vu while watching Kurosaki. It was almost exactly the same as when he had returned. Wasting hours at a time for Kurosaki to notice him. Spending day after day studying how the ginger breathed. Except now Ichigo could see him, but there was a painful chance he wouldn’t anymore. Despite himself he became antsy. He paced back and forth in the abyss, waiting for Ichigo to come back. Over time the Chain of Fate grew shorter and shorter. Each encroachment brought them closer but Grimmjow had never felt so far away. Physically Kurosaki was close enough to touch, but he knew realistically that the ginger was out of his reach. He didn’t know much about Inner Worlds. Grimmjow knew just enough to understand that it was a place he would never be. The one place Kurosaki could go that he can’t. He didn’t know why, but that thought irritated him. Kurosaki could invade every part of his life; his home, his thoughts, his focus—but he couldn’t invade his? It felt unfair.

Ichigo’s body suddenly seized and Grimmjow stilled. The boy’s entire body was stiff, his face wiped clean of any expression and his eyes still closed, when the white heart throbbed and started to pound. Ichigo’s body sagged and fell limp as the heart continued to race faster and faster while ever so slowly the boy’s skin began to change from sunkissed to a chilly white.

“Kurosaki?” Grimmjow asked cautiously.

Suddenly the chain in his hand burst to life. Tongues and teeth bit and lashed at his hand, forcing a curse from Grimmjow as the teeth pierced through his Heirro and ripped at his flesh. He dropped the chain immediately, eyes widening when he saw the plate over the white heart begin to crumble away.

“f*ck, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow called out.

His hand throbbed as blood poured from his wounds, another curse falling from his lips as he reached for Pantera who practically screamed to protect him. Kurosaki must have failed. The Hollow was taking over. He had to—Grimmjow hesitated, watching as the white bled up the ginger’s neck and tightened his grip of Pantera’s hilt. He had to remove the heart...but at the risk of Ichigo’s life and his powers. Kurosaki’s chances of survival were better if he allowed himself to become a Hollow, and his powers would surely return faster if he did. Grimmjow’s eyes bored into Ichigo’s face before he huffed a growl and sheathed Pantera once more. While shaking his hand the fingers and skin started to morph, black fur consuming his hand as sharp claws split from his fingertips. This wasn’t his decision to make. He had to do what Kurosaki wanted.

Even if it was going to hurt like a bitch.

Wasting no time to prepare himself for the inevitable burning lashes of the Hollows spiritual pressure he drew close until he towered over the ginger with his arm co*cked back. His arm shot forward like a bullet, coming within centimeters of the throbbing white heart, when his wrist was caught in a firm but gentle grip. The Arrancar stilled, surprised by the ginger’s speed. Was he a Hollow already? Had he been too late?

The sunkissed hand squeezed his wrist before lowering it but never released him as Ichigo raised his head, a massive grin causing his face to glow. Grimmjow’s breath hitched as he watch the white fade from Ichigo’s skin, but became mesmerized by his eyes. The right was the usual honey glazed cinnamon brown he saw every day. His left was a startling and almighty haunting gold and black.

Ichigo squeezed his wrist again as his smile turned blinding, “I found him. I found Ogihci.”

Chapter 35: Ikigai

Chapter Text

Hollows are never aware of the passage of time. It’s not that they don’t notice the World of the Living changing or haven’t seen the sun and moon spin in their daily rotation in the sky. They knew it existed, but it held no meaning for them. They didn’t age and wither away. They didn’t have busy lives; no social events to prepare and look forward too and no families or friends to visit. They simply didn’t notice time because the concept was useless for their race. The Arrancar were no different. Starrk slept days on end and never noticed time slipping away. Nnoitra would battle for weeks, oblivious because his body never tired. There were even a few times he had seen that little green haired Arrancar play games with her brothers three days straight. Hell, Grimmjow himself spent months on end training to fuse with Pantera and he only knew the specific dates because of Aizen’s meddling. Everything changed, but the Arrancar never did.

Seeing evolution first hand was like watching the birth of the universe.

One week—one measly little week—had changed Kurosaki almost completely. The apartment was constantly alive with music. Those CDs that sat gathering dust were now singing joyfully from the stereo and filling the air with their poetry. Books that had been abandoned were now read, full of thoughtful and deep annotations with colorful notes sticking out from each page. Food was abundant. The television always playing their favorite programs. A smile permanently etched onto Kurosaki’s face.

He was happy. The human was actually happy. Grimmjow never thought he would get to see that face again or for such a long amount of time.

His attitude had completely transformed, but even more shocking was his appearance.

Grimmjow’s eyes raked over the boy’s form, feeling comfortable with ogling while the human’s nose was buried deep in a textbook. Having his Hollow back improved his mood immensely, but the Hollow also had a hand in his looks. His eyes were still mismatched: one brown and white, the other black and gold. Every time they landed on the Arrancar he felt pinned in place, unable to move or look away from that heavy, piercing gaze. Of course his eye had to be hidden from humans. Normally he worse sunglasses in public but for the hard ass professors the sunglasses were replaced with an embellished eyepatch created by Ishida who despised the thought of Kurosaki wearing a normal, cheap brand. At home, however, Grimmjow couldn’t escape those eyes.

Grimmjow’s gaze shifted to the boy’s hands, enjoying the rushed scribble of notes the boy wrote with a dull pencil, light refracting off naturally black nails. Every time Grimmjow saw those nails he couldn’t help but want to know how they would look and feel while clawing and scratching at the pale muscles on his back. It would, without a doubt, be one of the sexiest things to ever experience.

Then there was the hair. That was a major sign of his development. When he had first returned the boy’s hair was just starting to tease the middle of his back. Now the fiery locks pooled around his hips, framing his curves as if Grimmjow hadn’t already noticed them. The only difference since the Hollow returned were the tips of the human’s orange hair. They turned a bone chilling white. The same hue as the Hollow’s so-called heart. Grimmjow swore they continued to spread day by day, but he couldn’t exactly prove it. He didn’t really want to confess to the brat that he had been staring at him often enough to notice little changes.

With all of that said, there was one issue impossible to ignore. Kurosaki was a blend of human and Hollow and it was undeniable.

Ichigo’s finger tugged at his earlobe, humming to himself as he narrowed his eyes on a problem, the shimmering black stone winking in the Arrancar’s direction. Grimmjow gulped, his mouth running dry as if the gem were flirting with him without shame. That was another major change in the boy’s appearance. The Hollow’s presence lifted his spirits enough that Kurosaki placed more effort in his appearance—tighter pants which seemed humanly impossible and clothes with more color and style—but mostly in the jewelry department. Grimmjow had known that Ichigo had piercings—he had even seen a photo of the boy wearing them when he was younger—but seeing those piercings in person…

Grimmjow shivered as his eyes traced over the smooth black metal. Black stones, one large and the other small, on each of the upper and standard lobes. A black ring on the snug on his left ear. An industrial piercing on his right ear with a black bar. On his left there were a slew of black, silver, and gold rings pierced on along the shell of his ear—and Grimmjow desperately wanted to nip at each one with his teeth. He never thought of himself being into piercings—he never really thought about stuff he was into in general—but f*ck if those piercings on Kurosaki didn’t make his co*ck twitch in interest. The worst part—or the best part depending on who the question was directed at: Grimmjow or his dick—the piercings didn’t end at his ears. Oh no. Kurosaki went all out. For instance two sharp spikes jutted out from below Ichigo’s plump lower lip. Grimmjow had looked up the name of the piercing: snake bite. The name and design of the piercing looked as if it would slice his lip open while they kissed and Grimmjow prayed that it was true. Finally, but definitely not least, was the a midline tongue piercing. Just a simple little black ball with golden swirls resting on the center of Kurosaki’s tongue—nothing super fancy or over the top, fairly traditional—but the thoughts that filled Grimmjow’s head at the sight of it were straight up sinful. He wasn’t religious, it was hard to be with what he was, but he was sure that some deity was going to smite his lustful ass if he didn’t stop staring.

But with so many piercings on his face...would Kurosaki really limit the decorations to just above his neck?

Grimmjow’s eyes quickly darted to the ginger’s lap but were immediately torn away as he forced himself to read the manga going ignored in his hands. He really needed to calm down. That definitely wasn’t any of his business and he shouldn’t care whether or not the brat had steel down there and should focus on getting steel back in the ginger’s hand.

...Okay. Bad choice of words.

A chuckle pulled Grimmjow’s eyes back to Kurosaki. Once again he was gobsmacked by the smile on Ichigo’s lips. Kurosaki’s brows furrowed in concentration before lifting as another snicker fell from his lips, those same lips muttering a silent response. That had been something Grimmjow struggled to get used to. Kurosaki had been successful in reaching his Hollow, but he was so successful that the two were constantly connected. The Hollow—Ogihci, Ichigo had said he called himself—could not only see and hear and feel whatever Kurosaki did, but he could also hold a constant conversation with the ginger. They were almost always talking to one another. Grimmjow could tell by the way the boy’s expressions changed even while no words were said.

Ichigo was happy. He was alive and he still had what little powers he did and now he had his Hollow back. It should’ve been nothing but positives. Grimmjow told himself to be optimistic for once in his goddamn life, but he couldn’t shake the creeping feeling off his mind. Kurosaki’s body had changed so much due to the Hollow’s presence...when was it going to stop? At this rate Grimmjow wasn’t sure if the boy was going to get back his Soul Reaper powers...or turn into a Hollow.

It was a serious problem.

One that he should bring up to Kurosaki.

But when Ichigo looked up from his homework and noticed his stare and then smiled with a faint pink blush dusting his cheeks, Grimmjow felt all of his worries melt away.

Like they never existed.

It was impossible to believe that something in this universe wanted to destroy such a lovely smile.

Chapter 36: Altruistic Greed

Chapter Text

“Grimmjow?”

Fingers tapped his bare shoulder, the disturbance causing the man to frown in his sleep.

“Grimmjow.”

A calloused hand gently shook his shoulder as a hot breath rolled across his skin, carrying his whispered name.

“S’not wise t’ wake me, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow murmured. He pulled the covers up to the tips of his ears and settled deeper into the mattress while pushing the side of his face further into his pillow. Compared to that lumpy decorative piece of sh*t he had used before, this one was like sleeping on a cloud. Or a nice pair of tit* (an experience he only had once by pure accident and was amazed to walk away unscathed). Either way he was enjoying it and he wasn’t going to let Kurosaki ruin this for him.

A soft chuckle caused Grimmjow’s ear to perk despite his wishes.

“Sorry, Grimm. Ogihci is keeping me up so I can’t sleep,” Ichigo explained.

Grimmjow hummed in reply, acknowledging the human’s words but not understanding how that was his problem. Between the two of them it was obvious who needed more sleep. Kurosaki seemed to be able to run on nothing. Grimmjow, on the other hand, will eagerly snap the neck of whomever dared talk to him after a restless evening. Right now the boy was walking an extremely dangerous line.

The bed dipped as Ichigo shifted closer. Grimmjow could feel the heat radiating from his body and ignored the way his fingers twitched with the instinct to pull Kurosaki closer. He was warm enough with the blankets. He didn’t need the ginger to be his personal heater. No matter how good Kurosaki’s skin felt against his.

“I, ah, think I know how to get him to settle down,” Ichigo said, voice hushed and sweet breath teasing his exposed ear.

“How?” Grimmjow muttered, choosing to humor the boy before beating the sh*t out of him.

But Kurosaki said nothing.

Seconds ticked by, the silence between them swelling rapidly and threatening to burst. With a sigh Grimmjow rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at Kurosaki, forcing himself to open one tired eye and peer through his long lashes. As per usual the moon provided enough light to expose the ginger’s angelic face, but this time his eyes seemed to glow brightly in the illy lit room. The gold and brown irises were smoldering, brimming with hunger as they stared at Grimmjow’s eyes then at his lips. It wasn’t until Ichigo started to chew on his own pink, bottom lip that Grimmjow connected the dots. Oh. A distraction. That’s what Kurosaki wanted.

An electrifying thrill shot down Grimmjow’s spine and repressed his shiver. Nothing in all of history had ever woken him up so quickly. He kept his face blank, refusing to give anything away as his body practically screamed for Kurosaki’s touch.

They should be sleeping. Kurosaki had class in the morning and Grimmjow was still working off the backbreaking stress from when the boy was sick. They should be saving energy, not wasting it.

And yet that look in Kurosaki’s eyes beckoned him to make bad choices.

“Alright, fine,” Grimmjow said as he stretched his arms over his head, then slowly pulled them down as he flexed the muscles on his back and arched his spine in an attempt to wake himself and his stiff muscles further, “If it’ll get you both to shut up and let me sleep.”

In a flash the blankets were torn from his body and Grimmjow jolted at the sudden shock of chilly night air. Luckily the cold wasn’t felt for long when lean thighs suddenly framed his hips. Grimmjow’s breath hitched as the fire living under Kurosaki’s skin oozed from his sunkissed thighs and burned his pale flesh. It was ridiculous that one person could be so f*cking warm. Kurosaki straddled his lap with a lazy grin on his face, planting a possessive hand on each side of the Arrancar’s head as if the man planned to run, towering over him as the hunger in his eyes tripled in intensity. Speechless, Grimmjow struggled to gulp with a dry throat. This was new.

A smirk tilted Ichigo’s lips as he slipped down onto his elbows, long fingers combing through blue locks as the ginger’s lips ghosted over his. “Stop me if I cross a line,” he murmured.

With a firm tug of Grimmjow’s hair Ichigo tilted the Arrancar’s head before crushing their lips together in a deep kiss. An appreciative hum bubbled in Grimmjow’s throat as he immediately kissed back, allowing Kurosaki to take the lead. He never knew the ginger had the guts to take charge. Although it wasn’t that surprising. Kurosaki wasn’t the kind of person who would bow down to authority and instead always challenged it. Of course he’d do that with power dynamics in the bedroom.

Youthful teeth tugged at his bottom lip, the sharp points on snakebite piercings scraping across his skin. The sensation caused the hair on Grimmjow’s arms to stand on end. His groan muffled by Kurosaki’s tongue, Grimmjow squeezed his thighs together tightly as his co*ck responded with an interested twitch. They didn’t make him bleed, but those piercings were in no way a disappointment. A smooth, warm ball of metal brushed over the sensitive roof of Grimmjow’s mouth and a stunned moan tumbled from his tongue, his hands fumbling to hold onto Ichigo’s sides. Holy f*ck. His fingers clawed at the bagy material clinging to the boy’s body—wait, was that his shirt? When had Kurosaki put it on? More importantly, why was that such a f*cking turn on?

Cursing to himself, Grimmjow dug his fingers deep into Ichigo’s waist, pulling him closer while bucking his hips and grunting at the feeling of the ginger’s building erection against his. Grimmjow hadn’t exactly taken notice of his previous partners’ bodies to the point of appreciating them. Of course he knew a vague description of their forms. Tall. Lean. Muscular. Long hair he adored using to control their tall, lean, muscular bodies and spines. That was it. He remembered nothing else. It wasn’t to say neither of them were worthy to be looked upon and admired, but Grimmjow had never caught himself doing such a thing. With Kurosaki he felt almost forced to admire the young body on top of him. He was tall, lean, and muscular just like the other two—but they were paralleled lines. Identical and headed toward the same destination but on completely different levels. Kurosaki wasn’t just some mere body. He was an artform. A living masterpiece. Music blaring from booming speakers and demanding to have its praises sung. It’s why Grimmjow admired every long strand of orange hair even when they invaded his side of the bed. Why he managed to count every last freckle upon those high cheeks and straight nose. Why he knew the twinkling pattern of the gold stars in his eyes. And it’s why he found himself so obsessed with the human's co*ck. Grimmjow had no logical reason for it. He didn’t understand why it happened either, but f*ck if he didn’t admire Kurosaki’s co*ck. The brat was just so big. His girth wasn’t as thick as Grimmjow’s, but the sheer size had the Arrancar floored. Kurosaki felt so damn heavy with his erection straining and tenting his pants, grinding down on Grimmjow’s growing problem and making the Arrancar moan as it twitched against his. He had never wanted to touch someone’s co*ck so badly before. Honestly, all those months ago when they reunited and Grimmjow had insultingly sneered, “You still talk like you have the biggest dick in the room,” well...it was true. The Arrancar was roughly around seven to seven and a half inches. Kurosaki was easily nine. At least Grimmjow knew for sure that Zangetsu didn’t look like a human sized butcher knife to overcompensate for what he lacked. The brat didn’t lack anything. Smooth with a decent girth and a modest display of a straining vein on the underside. Two freckles, one on the vein and another on the deep pink head. Curved, guaranteeing to reach the desired bundle of nerves. Unlike his own, Kurosaki was uncut, allowing foreskin to stretch over the head of his co*ck slowly and release a flood of precum it had been holding back. f*cking hell it was a gorgeous co*ck. He could imagine the long list of pathetic losers who would run for the hills and claim that Kurosaki was “too big” and would demand to be on top. Pathetic. Grimmjow didn’t bottom for a lot of personal reasons, but f*ck in another life there’s no way he’d be scared of taking a good dicking from a co*ck like that.

A deep growl rumbled in Kurosaki’s chest and Grimmjow stilled, surprised by the deep, animalistic sound and dazed by his lustful thoughts. He had heard it somewhere before. Or at least something similar. But where? Their kiss abruptly broke, allowing Grimmjow to gasp and greedily gulp down air as the ginger grinned down at him, glowing with smug pride. Who was this guy? Why hadn’t Kurosaki done this sooner?

A firm tug on wild blue locks exposed his neck to burning eyes. His sensitive scalp tingling from the rough treatment as his breath hitched. Grimmjow’s pale and unmarked flesh glowed in the moonlight, beautiful and alluring, the perfect prey for pearly white teeth to sink deep into. As Ichigo’s face drew closer the Arrancar’s pulse raced, his blood lashing out at the rest of his body in panicked anticipation for the inevitable action the human was about to take. If he was going to survive long enough to experience it. Grimmjow couldn’t understand how humans functioned with these damn hearts. The erratic beat caught inside his chest was frightening and confusing all at the same time. He didn’t know whether to be excited or wary. Kurosaki wasn’t someone to be fearful of. Least of all like this. There was no reason to be afraid. To refuse being touched. To hate the rounded ridges of Kurosaki’s incisors scratching his racing pulse, teasing the vein with playful threats of harm—

Just like that. Just like that Grimmjow’s blood turned cold.

It happened so fast that Grimmjow himself wasn’t sure what occurred, even though he was the one who grabbed Kurosaki by the throat and threw him down onto the bed, pinning the human and snarling in his face as his nails scratched the flesh above the boy’s thyroid gland.

“What the f*ck do you think you’re doing, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow spat.

He had never allowed someone to mark his neck for the same reasons he forbade himself from doing the same. Not only was it a massive invasion of personal space and weirdly possessive for his race, but the risks alone were insane. Even humans with their weak jaws and omnivorous teeth could tear a larynx free from an unprotected throat. The neck was incredibly vulnerable, especially in this Gigai. Trusting someone enough to grant access to such a weakness was unheard of among Hollows. It went against everything he believed in. Against every instinct in his body.

Ichigo held up his hands to signify that he meant no harm, his eyes wide with surprise but otherwise completely calm. “Sorry. I crossed a line. I won’t do that again,” he stated.

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed as his nose wrinkled and lips peeled back in a mocking sneer. “You’re lying.”

“Grimm, I’m not lying and you know that,” Ichigo said with his voice soft and face serious, “I just wanted to make you feel good, like what you do for me.”

This sh*t again? Kurosaki wanted to make him feel good? What the hell for?

“Why?” Grimmjow demanded.

Ichigo looked lost. “...That’s...kind of the whole point of this? Wait, have any of your partners ever done something for you? Like, just for you and not for their own gain?” he asked.

The Arrancar made another face. “Why would they?” Kurosaki wasn’t making any sense. All of this stuff was a selfish act. He sure as hell wouldn’t benefit from getting the brat off. It didn’t make him stronger or richer or any other ideals humans practically drooled over. All he had were bragging rights and what he and Kurosaki did he wasn’t exactly broadcasting.

“Okay...so that explains a lot,” Ichigo said slowly, pushing the pieces together as he searched Grimmjow’s eyes, “You’ve had to depend solely on yourself to get off, haven’t you?”

“And?” he scoffed.

Kurosaki made it sound like a bad thing. It wasn’t. He knew better than anyone else what he liked. He knew what he wanted and when he wanted it and he didn’t have to waste time trying to figure out what his partner liked. They took what they desired and moved on. Kurosaki was just a hopeless romantic. He made sex out to be more than what it really was. Carnal desires. A distraction from reality. A meaningless moment of bliss.

Fingers brushed over his scarred sternum and brought Grimmjow back to the present. Ichigo chewed his lip while mulling over his own thoughts as worried fingers trace every inch of the jagged burn. He didn’t release the overworked skin until brown and gold eyes connected with the Arrancar’s brilliant blue. “You mind if I try something? I promise you’ll be in complete control the whole time,” he offered.

Grimmjow pressed the tip of his thumb under the boy’s chin with a scowl. “And what exactly do you want to try?”

Unexpectedly the boy’s face turned a vivid pink as he avoided Grimmjow’s gaze. “I, ah, I want to try...blowing you.”

Okay. What?

Beyond shocked by the boy’s words all he could do was stare. His speechless reaction caused Ichigo’s blush to darken as he nervously watched his finger trace Grimmjow’s deep scar.

“I-I ah, I mean, we don’t have to. I just...I dunno, I thought you might like it,” Ichigo said with a flustered cough, “I wouldn’t mind doing that for you.”

Ichigo f*cking Kurosaki wanted to give him oral. What universe had he wandered into? Did that Garganta he opened all those months ago bring him to the wrong reality? How could the brat that took down the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo suddenly exclaim that he wanted to blow his enemy? A f*cking Hollow.

“Didn’t expect you to be that thick, though. Not gonna lie, I would gladly choke on it.”

Grimmjow’s co*ck twitched at the memory. He thought at the time Kurosaki had been joking, but the brat was serious. Still, why?

“What’s your angle? People don’t do sh*t if they get nothing out of it, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said as his hand slipped away from the boy’s neck, his guard lowering slightly.

Thin eyebrows twitched in poorly masked confused, irritation. “Then why did you kiss me that day?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow’s scowl darkened as he bristled. He knew that night was going to bite him in the ass. “Because I was sick and tired of you being a little crybaby bitch and wanted to get some goddamn sleep. That’s why,” he spat.

His skin crawled at the look on Ichigo’s face. He meant for his words to hurt. They were supposed to slice and stab at the boy’s heart and wound him to the point that he would drop the topic. Yet it looked as if Kurosaki didn’t believe a single word he said. That starlit brown eye and glowing gold iris only watched him with a strange mixture of emotions—none of which were the desired look of pain. Kurosaki knew he was lying. Nothing had ever made him so uncomfortable before.

Ichigo’s face flickered. A slight shift in the set of his lips and an odd spark in his mismatched eyes. Completely unreadable. Grimmjow frowned. He had seen that look before. Five years ago when they fought. Kurosaki had something up his sleeve. Something that would gut Grimmjow to his very core.

“Fine, let's say you’re right. What we do is entirely covetous. Nothing but greed and lust and the desire to take what we want,” Ichigo murmured as his hands slowly drifted along Grimmjow’s arms.

Fiery fingertips left a long trail of goosebumps in their wake, the heat seeping deep into Grimmjow’s muscles and causing them to weaken. His body wanted to crumble under Kurosaki’s gentle touch. Eager to succumb to those haughty eyes and rough, authoritative hands—to release all control and see what Ichigo was fully capable of—but the Arrancar snuffed each desire with a horrified internal shriek. Seeking to be dominated and willingly allowing himself to be devoured and used however someone else pleased—he wasn’t supposed to want such things. That vulnerability was a gateway to being controlled, being stripped of his identity and left to be nothing more than a soldier and a fun f*ck. Sneered at. Inferior. A joke. He refused to be in such a position again.

Kurosaki waited, forcing their eyes to connect—curious and guarded brown and gold against hard, unbreakable and impenetrable blue. Silently asking an unspeakable request. Grimmjow’s gaze hardened and his lips peeled back to expose his teeth, a vicious response building on his tongue—when black nails suddenly sank into the sensitive flesh on the Arrancar’s shoulders, carving into the flesh mercilessly.

“sh*t!” Grimmjow snarled, “What the f*ck, Kurosaki!”

Black nails sank deeper, threatening to pierce pale skin as another slew of curses poured from the Arrancar’s mouth. The pain was temporary and doubtful to leave marks, but the action distracted Grimmjow long enough for Ichigo to flip their positions, slamming Grimmjow onto his back to tower over him once more, immobilizing Grimmjow with an irritated frown on his pretty face.

The bastard had no right to look like that.

Enraged, Grimmjow’s face twisted into a fang bearing grimace as his hands clawed with the need to rip sunkissed skin. “Kurosaki, what are—!”

Grimmjow froze when warm lips pressed against his in a deep kiss, ending his complaints and easing the tension in his shoulders when long fingers grazed the deep divots in apology as they traveled across his chest. Those deftly fingers teased the Arrancar’s pale skin with a heated spark. They traced the hard structure of his pecs. Outlined the sharp line of his clavicle. Stroked the scar carved deep into his flesh. Circled and pinched hardening nipples, enticing a muted curse from Grimmjow’s busy lips. Those calloused hands devoured his body slowly, consuming him with each lingering touch as Kurosaki’s lips and tongue pushed Grimmjow’s mind into a fogged haze. When Ichigo’s burning palms came to a stop just below his belly button—right above where Grimmjow actually needed the ginger’s hands to be—their kiss broke. Biting his lip to hold back his protests Grimmjow squeezed his legs together tightly in an attempt to ignore the needy twitches of his awakening member.

That was hard to do when Ichigo suddenly decided he was Satan.

“My desires are entirely gluttonous. Despicably esurient,” Ichigo murmured, his warm hand sliding down to palm Grimmjow’s erection, a brief flicker of a smirk appearing upon his lips when the Arrancar’s breath hitched, “Selfish. Self centered. Self-subservient.”

“I get it, you own a f*cking thesaurus,” Grimmjow snapped. Muscular thighs rubbed together in need as his co*ck pressed against the boy’s palm, fighting to find a way out of the fabric bindings. f*ck. He had never gotten this hard so quickly before. Least of all with someone on top of him. At this rate he was going to cream himself before they even got to the good stuff. His pride despised the idea, but his body was more than ready to make a mess of itself. He really f*cking hated this body—and Kurosaki too.

A harsh pinch on his nipple pulled a snarl from Grimmjow’s throat as he winced at the flash of pain. The brat was being rougher than usual. Was he actually pissed off. Why? Grimmjow was only telling the truth. And now the bastard was agreeing with him!

“You want to know why I offered to blow you, Jaegerjaquez?” Ichigo asked, forcing Grimmjow to turn his head with a harsh yank on blue locks, whispering the answer in his ear, “Because I’m a f*cking greedy bastard and want nothing more than to feel your co*ck on my tongue.”

Grimmjow’s co*ck jumped at his words and his thighs tightened again. Lust burned all the air in his lungs and left the Arrancar flailing as the artificial heart in his chest hammered away and his fingers tore at the sheets. Since when did Kurosaki talk like that?

Teeth nipped at his jaw and Grimmjow shivered as Ichigo continued.

“I offered because ever since I saw your gorgeous co*ck I can’t stop thinking about you f*cking my mouth and stuffing my throat with it. I still can’t decide how I’d want you to do it,” Ichigo mused as he slowly peeled back Grimmjow’s tight underwear, “I’m torn between taking complete control and setting my own pace, watching you writhe in tortured pleasure while I do as I wish. Or letting you yank on my hair, guiding me along your ridiculously thick co*ck and making me gag as you push yourself in as deep as you can.”

Holy f*ck. A wet tongue traced the pulse on his throat slowly, the sensation too pleasurable to spark his anger. What the hell. The human’s hot breath teased the sensitive skin and the Arrancar shivered. His jaw starting to ache from his painful attempts to mute himself as a trail of soft kisses traveled up his neck, ending with a playful nip at his earlobe. Mother of all things holy.

“I’m selfish because I want to see your face twisted with lust I caused. I wanna make you curse and moan as you claw at my bedsheets and thrash on my bed. I want to be the reason why you split your lip when you try to mute your moans. I want to be the one who makes your spine arch as you come,” Ichigo growled, his hand squeezing Grimmjow’s co*ck possessively, “So you’re right. I offered to blow you for my own gain. I want to be the man who gave Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez the best goddamn climax of his entire life, the best f*cking blowj*b he’ll ever get, and to be the first person to ever serve his majesty in a selfishly selfless manner. I want to ruin you, Jaegerjaquez, all in the name of my prideful ego.”

A tiny, pathetic groan rattled in Grimmjow’s throat as his toes curled. His whole body was alive with flames, the arousal in his stomach having boiled over and flooded every molecule in his body. Selfishly selfless? Utter bullsh*t. The two words cancelled each other out. It meant nothing and didn’t make sense. Except it did. Those two words perfectly described Kurosaki during their distractions. He wanted to be the best in Grimmjow’s eyes. He wanted to be the first person the Arrancar thought of whenever he was struck with arousal, and he wanted to be the only person to give Grimmjow everything. That sh*t had to be self destructive. If Grimmjow were anyone else—some human that only wanted Kurosaki’s body and didn’t give a sh*t about who he was or his power—the ginger would be demolished beyond repair. But why him? Why didn’t Kurosaki feel this way about a human? Was he a challenge to Kurosaki? Is that why he chose him over someone like Ishida? Grimmjow swallowed dryly as he ignored the jealousy bubbling in his chest. Had he done the same for Ishida? Kurosaki was obviously experienced. He had to have done this with someone before. He couldn’t be the first.

But that nickname...could Kurosaki really have called anyone else that?

“How ‘bout it, your majesty,” Ichigo purred, stroking Grimmjow slowly as he nibbled and sucked on his pale earlobe, “May I be of service to my king?”

Kurosaki was most likely mocking him, but f*ck if those titles didn’t go straight to his dick. He should be concerned about the my in my king but at this point he couldn’t give a sh*t. Goddamnit he was this brat’s king and he couldn’t deny that he wanted Kurosaki’s gorgeous mouth on his co*ck. Even if he was going to regret it tomorrow.

“Stop talking and get on with it, Kurosaki,” he said through his teeth, attempting to buck his hips and failing.

The irritation in Kurosaki’s eyes disappeared once permission was granted and a smug grin split his face in two. “I had no idea you could be so cute, Grimm,” Ichigo snickered, his breath heating the Arrancar’s skin. Or maybe he was just blushing again.

f*ckin’ bastard.

“Shut your f*cking mouth, Kurosa—hah!” Grimmjow interrupted himself with a loud gasp as Ichigo’s jaws latched onto his clavicle, leaving a collection of bruises and teeth marks leading back towards the Arrancar’s neck, his teeth grinding in an attempt to keep himself quiet.

Kurosaki had been telling the truth. He didn’t try to mark his neck again. But that didn’t stop him from doing other things.

Canines grazed his jaw.

A tongue traced the shell of his ear.

A whispered name fell from pink lips.

“Ichigo.”

Grimmjow’s brows furrowed as he bared his teeth in a sneer. “Excuse you?”

Kurosaki pulled back and faced Grimmjow head on, his eyes serious as he repeated himself. “Call me Ichigo.”

Hard as a rock or not, Grimmjow couldn’t help but snort. “That’s not happening.”

Wow. The ginger was literally pouting. “But I call you by your first name all the time!”

“I didn’t ask for that,” Grimmjow scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “In fact it annoys the f*ck outta me.”

Ichigo studied the Arrancar when a confident smirk stretched his lips. “I’m totally gonna get you to say my name.”

“You think too highly of yourself,” Grimmjow replied.

“We’ll see about that,” Ichigo chuckled, leaning down for another kiss.

Grimmjow tried to fight back. He tried to take the lead. Unfortunately he miscalculated. That blasted tongue piercing rolled against the roof of his mouth once more and he quickly lost with a groan, cursing to himself as Kurosaki stayed in control. Without breaking their kiss the human managed to part Grimmjow’s legs with no resistance. Something Grimmjow was going to yell at himself for later. Ichigo came to rest on his knees between muscular, pale thighs, the sensation of a body forcing his legs apart making Grimmjow’s co*ck jump—although that also could’ve been from the lack of attention from Kurosaki’s hand. This was a position he had never found himself in before. It’s not like others hadn’t tried. It usually just ended with him snarling, pinning them below his body, and f*cking them until they understood who was calling the shots. Being at anyone’s mercy made his skin crawl...but he didn’t feel that way with Kurosaki. All he felt was lust and a strange desire to see just how far Kurosaki was willing to go.

A very dangerous desire to have toward an enemy.

Calloused hands brushed along his thighs. The worn fingers tickling his skin with playful touches as they stroked every expanse of muscle as if trying to memorize the structure. Suddenly those scarred hands hooked under the Arrancar’s knees and guided his legs to the human’s waist, leaving him no option but to lock his legs around the ginger. The compromising position caused a light blush to warm Grimmjow’s cheeks. He could feel Kurosaki’s erection throbbing against the underside of his thigh. This brat was asking for a beating. Before his anger took hold, a thumb brushed over his nipple and he shivered, biting Ichigo’s lip as he braced himself for the inevitable. Even fully prepared he still choked on moans when Kurosaki pinched and caressed his embarrassingly sensitive chest, drool flooding his mouth. It wasn’t until Kurosaki started to grind against him did he really question his chances of losing to the ginger. Damn this brat and his experience.

Without warning the ginger broke their kiss and Grimmjow bit his tongue to hold back his frustrated groan. Kurosaki openly stared at him, those eyes boring into his very soul as Grimmjow’s blue eyes narrowed.

“I’m not f*cking saying it, Kurosaki. Give it up,” he barked.

Ichigo smiled. “You’re such and idiot,” he chuckled, pulling back until he was out of arm's reach, “I was only thinking about how gorgeous you look, my king.”

His co*ck twitched at the nickname again. “Why do you keep calling me that?” Grimmjow demanded in exasperation.

“What? King? I thought I remembered you holding yourself to such high standards? Your dick seems to appreciate it,” Ichigo teased. His thumb brushed over the head, retreating with a long, sticky string of precum.

Why did he do this to himself?

“I thought I remembered you sayin’ you were gonna blow me? Either you shut up and get to work or I’m gonna shut your mouth for you,” Grimmjow spat.

Ichigo shivered at his words and bit his lip.

Okay. Not the reaction he was expecting.

“As amazing as that sounds I think for the first time I’m going to take the lead,” Ichigo leaned down to gently peck Grimmjow’s lips, “But don’t let that stop you from getting rough.”

Grimmjow’s mind came to a halt. Did he say first time? As in there’s going to be more than one occurrence of this? Was he serious?

He wasn’t given much time to think about it when his boxer briefs were tugged down to mid thigh as Kurosaki’s skilled lips and tongue teased the scar across his torso. Unexpectedly Grimmjow felt his face grow warm. He wasn’t a stranger to little to no clothing. That damn uniform Aizen had made him wear was evidence of that. He was fine with showing off skin, actually, if it was his decision. Plunging necklines, sleeveless shirts, and lounging around the apartment in just a pair of sweatpants or simple underwear was pretty much what he always wore. He had no issues with his body and if people looked he often enjoyed the attention, but those situations weren’t strangely intimate like this one was. It wasn’t until now that Grimmjow realized that not once had he been completely naked in his past sexual encounters. They came close. Shawlong had seen him stripped down to only one article of clothing before, but that was just after Aizen’s Hogyoku transformed them into monstrous beasts with weird lustful desires for flesh in a very non-Hollow sense—and neither of them wore much clothing to begin with. The concept of clothing had been fairly new. They were both clumsy at the time, inexperienced and driven by physical needs and emotionality alone. This was different by a long shot. Kurosaki was fully aware of his actions and so was Grimmjow. It couldn’t be chalked up to animal necessities. He could make excuses. Such as, Kurosaki overpowered him—but even in this Gigai that was a joke. No one would ever believe that. They weren’t thinking—painfully accurate but not enough to cover their asses. Technically, he was still wearing underwear and therefore not entirely naked, but regardless of that Kurosaki had seen everything because those boxer briefs now only shielded his thighs—which even Ishida had seen—and Kurosaki still had all of his clothes on. Grimmjow didn’t dare complain, though. He didn’t want Kurosaki to have an excuse to get naked. Then they really would go too far.

“If there’s something you don’t like you better tell me now,” Ichigo warned as his teeth grazed the scar on Grimmjow’s hip.

Something he didn’t like? Grimmjow’s toes curled as Ichigo’s lips continued down his thigh, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh on the inner thigh as his thumb traced a throbbing vein. The soft fabric of his underwear sliding further and further down his thighs until with a gentle tug he was left completely naked. Grimmjow gulped. Technicalities out of the way, he was f*cking naked in front of Kurosaki. Besides the inevitable panicked breakdown Grimmjow was positive to have after this, he still doubted that he was going to hate anything Kurosaki did.

“Just hurry up, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said with a—as masculine as he could muster—whine. He didn’t bother hiding his desperation. He was dying to feel that hot mouth and what it could do. When Kurosaki got co*cky and boasted that meant he had the skill to back it up. The human was one of the rare few who didn’t make themselves out to be more than what they were. Probably the only person beside himself, to be honest.

Teeth clamped down on his inner thigh and Grimmjow yelped. He lifted his head to glare at the ginger and met eyes of brown and gold without a drop of regret in them. “Sorry,” Ichigo said with a shrug as he settled further between his legs.

“No you’re not, ya bastard,” Grimmjow grumbled as he laid his head back onto the mattress, lowkey wishing he had a pillow which were at the head of the bed and far out of his reach, “A little pain isn’t going to motivate me to do sh*t, Kurosaki.”

He expected another bite. Hell, maybe even for the ginger to slap the newly made bruise on his thigh. Instead a hot, wet tongue traced a vein on the underside of his member and a groan caught in Grimmjow’s throat which quickly caused him to choke.

“Good to know that pleasure is still an option,” Ichigo murmured, his warm breath brushing over sensitive skin as he kissed along the wet trail he created, “Trust me, Jaegerjaquez, one way or another you’ll say my name. Even if I have to suck it outta you.”

Grimmjow was suddenly thankful he didn’t have a pillow because he didn’t need to see the boy’s face to know that he was grinning like an asshole. Overconfident, irritating little basta—

Warm lips gently kissed the throbbing head and slowly parted to take just the tip between them. A tongue lavished the skin with attention, tracing the edge and teasing the hole before licking up every drop of precum as if it was the best goddamn thing Ichigo had ever tasted. Squeezing his eyes shut, Grimmjow locked his jaw in refusal to release any incriminating noises, but good lord was it hard. Kurosaki opened his jaw further, taking more of Grimmjow into his mouth, his tongue stroking further down his co*ck and—holy sh*t. Grimmjow’s whole body jerked as the smooth metal piercing rolled under the head and brushed over throbbing veins, the hard surface contrasting with the ginger’s tongue and causing his co*ck to twitch and weep an embarrassing amount of precum. How could he have forgotten about that damn piercing? And how could it feel that good? Kurosaki was always so shy with sexual topics but every goddamn time he got his scarred hands on the Arrancar he only proved himself to be a goddamn deity of sex. Why did that brat have to be so unpredictable?

That wonderful mouth suddenly disappeared and cold air struck the wet skin, making Grimmjow flinch and curl his toes. There’s no way he’s going to give Kurosaki what he wanted. The bastard had already made him blush and had him in this position, giving him the satisfaction of hearing his first name was too much.

Grimmjow still had his pride. What was left of it, anyway. After today there wasn’t going to be much. “Don’t go quiet on me, Jaegerjaquez,” Ichigo murmured as his fingers wrapped around the Arrancar’s wrist and held it beside his hip, “I want to hear my king.”

“Stop sayin’ that,” Grimmjow demanded weakly through clenched teeth.

An honest chuckle vibrated in Ichigo’s throat but the ginger said nothing more as he went back to work. Grimmjow tugged on his own wrist. Ichigo’s iron grip didn’t budge. What was he planning?

Ichigo took things slowly. Too slowly. It was unfair. Pure torture. His tongue twisted and stroked every inch of skin he could reach. His lips were firm and soft even as they stretched around his girth. The short and gentle sucks never lasted long enough, although Grimmjow doubted he would forget how the ginger’s cheeks felt like f*cking expensive velvet only royalty could afford. There was no denying that it felt fantastic...but he somehow felt cheated. With all of Kurosaki’s bragging he expected him to hit the Arrancar with everything he had. In the end, Kurosaki could only take half of him into his mouth before he pulled back. It was oddly disappointing. He never thought he’d use that word to describe Kurosaki.

With an aggravated growl he pulled on his wrist again. Ichigo still wouldn’t let go. “f*ckin’ pick up the pace, Kurosa—mother f*cker!”

An extremely painful pinch to his inner thigh, right where that f*cking bite mark was, interrupted Grimmjow and ripped a snarl from his chest. He lifted his head and glared at the human. The son of a bitch was grinning. He wanted to beat that f*cking smirk off his face—

An idea struck Grimmjow and it took every muscle in his body to keep himself from smiling at the malicious thought. Oh, he was gonna wipe that look off his face for sure.

Grimmjow locked his ankles together and pressed his heels down on Kurosaki’s lower back, holding him in place. Ichigo gave him a curious look. Grimmjow smiled sharply and bucked his hips, slamming every inch of his co*ck into the boy’s throat.

“f*ck,” Grimmjow moaned as his head fell back, pulling his hips back slightly only to slam into the boy’s mouth again, “It’s amazing how tight your throat is despite the constant bullsh*t you spew.”

He lifted his head to smirk at the human, excited to see the inevitable rage and tears gathered in Kurosaki’s eyes, but his lips faltered. Kurosaki wasn’t disturbed at all. Every inch of Grimmjow’s co*ck—which they both agreed is big—was deep in Kurosaki’s throat and the human hadn’t even batted an eyelash. He wasn’t even angry. Both eyes burned with lust and begged—no, demanded for Grimmjow to do it again as he swallowed, the muscles in his throat massaging the Arrancar’s member as if it was meant to be there. Kurosaki had no f*cking gag reflex. Kurosaki didn’t have a f*cking gag reflex.

Why did he even think he could win?

The human chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest as he bobbed his head at that painfully sluggish pace, using his skilled tongue in the worst of ways, and smirked at the sensitive hisses Grimmjow released. He eventually pulled off with a lewd pop and licked his lips gleefully before grinning at the Arrancar. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do that these past few weeks. You taste exactly how I imagined,” Ichigo teased as his hand stroked the Arrancar’s abandoned co*ck.

Grimmjow dropped his head with a snarl and bucked his hips but to no avail. “Kurosaki I swear to—son of a bitch!” he yelped. He tried to snap his legs together but Ichigo easily took hold of his thighs and pushed them apart as he brushed his thumb over the growing bruise on his light skin.

“I told you to call me Ichigo. I’ll stop pinching when you call me by my name,” Kurosaki replied dryly, unamused as he studied his mean handywork.

“I’m not gonna do it, you bastard,” Grimmjow spat, but the sound was weak.

Ichigo sighed and clicked his tongue. “Someone’s gotta teach you some manners,” he murmured, then paused and smiled, “Then again, I like it when you misbehave.”

He what now? Before Grimmjow could ask for clarification, Ichigo took him into his mouth with one swift drop, letting the erection strike the back of his throat before setting a steady pace. The Arrancar grunted, his jaw aching and teeth cracking as he watched Kurosaki. If he could smile Grimmjow was sure the human would. He didn’t get it. Kurosaki wasn’t acting like he was forced to do this. Grimmjow never asked him to be submissive—in fact he would never ask Kurosaki to do something he wouldn’t be willing to do himself. There wasn’t an ulterior motive in his actions either. No trick up his sleeve or rug to rip out from under the Arrancar’s feet. He just...genuinely wanted to give him pleasure. Did he really get something out of this?

Kurosaki swallowed him whole without warning, his tongue stroking the base of his co*ck from side to side.

f*ck.

That damn piercing.

His hips twitched, struggling to stay still as a curse escaped Grimmjow’s locked teeth, “sh*t.” It was a battle to peer through his eyes when they lidded with lust, but he was glad he fought to keep them open. Kurosaki was watching him intently. His mismatched eyes hungrily drank in the Arrancar’s reaction as if Grimmjow had given him exactly what he wanted. Wait...he had, hadn’t he? Kurosaki didn’t want to just please him...he wanted to do something to Grimmjow that no one had ever done before. He wanted to tear down his barriers. He wanted to strip him bare.

He wanted Grimmjow to be vulnerable.

It was such a tall order. No one had ever done such a thing before.

At least, not without causing serious damage.

Grimmjow was pulled from his thoughts when Ichigo tugged on his wrist to gain his attention. With a comforting squeeze his arm was lifted and his hand coaxed open with a caring brush of a calloused thumb, the open palm coming to rest on Ichigo’s head. Those gorgeous eyes stared pointedly, scarred fingers encouraging Grimmjow to stroke his long hair before his eyes fell closed and hand slipped away. Subtle. Grimmjow carded his fingers through the orange locks, enjoying the thick strands sliding against his skin like an angel’s feathers. Despite their spiked appearance Kurosaki’s hair was impossibly soft. Ichigo always claimed that his was softer (something about it being so soft and fluffy that it seemed weightless had almost no texture at all), but Grimmjow could never find it in himself to agree. His fiery orange hair was always soft and smooth and slipped between his fingers like silk...and each strand was attached to a moan. Grimmjow’s brows furrowed. Selfish selflessness...is that what he was doing?

His pale fingers tightened on thick orange hair and pulled. A moan spilled from Ichigo’s throat as he pulled back, releasing Grimmjow as he bit his lip and shuddered. “f*ck,” Ichigo cursed in a hushed tone. Moments later his lips returned to Grimmjow’s member, kissing along a vein before taking him into his mouth once again.

Selfishly giving himself pleasure while selflessly giving Grimmjow pleasure...that was the closest Ichigo was ever going to get to thinking about himself.

He really couldn’t let himself be the one to stop him.

No matter how f*cking stupid this was.

Grimmjow licked his lips and pulled in a nervous breath.

“Ichigo.”

The ginger stilled. His mismatched eyes lifted to meet Grimmjow’s gaze in wonder. Why did one f*cking person have to be so damn pretty? How could a face like that—with those expressions, morals, and wonderful personality—occur naturally? A being of all four worlds or not it was still beyond ridiculous.

Grimmjow tugged on orange hair again and bucked his hips. “Hurry the hell up before I change my mind.”

Ichigo’s eyes glazed with intense desire as he moaned again and pushed his head down, greedily swallowing all of Grimmjow’s co*ck in one fluid drop as his black nails clawed at broad hips.

“f*ck, Ichigo,” Grimmjow breathed, the ginger’s name foreign on his tongue but not unwelcome, “Your throat is so damn tight.”

The human moaned again and Grimmjow felt himself twitch. It wasn’t from Kurosaki’s hot throat or the way it hugged his co*ck as if were made to be f*cked by the Arrancar—it was the moan. It wasn’t because it stroked his ego or anything like that, he just...liked knowing that the boy was enjoying himself. Was this how Kurosaki felt when he did stuff for him? Is that why he was so eager to do this? Grimmjow shouldn’t waste his time thinking about it. It was impossible for him to piece together a puzzle while Kurosaki’s sucked the soul out of his body.

The human had too much skill. His tongue knew just how to twist to reach as much skin as possible. His lips stroking him as his throat took every inch without complaint. Hollowing his cheeks at the perfect moments. The moans vibrating in that suffocating throat doing so many things to Grimmjow’s co*ck that he himself was beyond shocked that he hadn’t climaxed yet. Although the most surprising development had to be that Kurosaki was actually enjoying this. A pink blush brightened the human’s cheeks, showing his self consciousness, but those ridiculous feelings were cast aside by his eager moans and relentless drool—hell, Grimmjow didn’t even need to rock his hips anymore. Kurosaki was practically f*cking himself. Eager to have his throat pounded and abused and doing so himself without being told to do so. Ichigo Kurosaki, savior of the world, was blowing an Arrancar and loving it. Good thing Grimmjow didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. They wouldn’t have believed him.

“Good lord, Ichigo,” Grimmjow teased as he brushed the bangs from mismatched eyes, “Have you always been a slu*t?”

Ichigo smirked. His tongue poked out from his lips and licked along the base of Grimmjow’s co*ck slowly and sensually before he returned to his work. That was a yes. He really hadn’t expected Kurosaki to agree, but the fire in his belly was glad to hear it. Blue eyes studied his face, watching the human’s jaw particularly. It had to be sore by now. He still didn’t complain.

What a weird guy.

He brushed more hair away from Ichigo’s face, exposing his long neck as Grimmjow pushed himself onto his elbow. Kurosaki really was undeniably gorgeous. A beautiful face that wasn’t too masculine or too feminine. That one of a kind long hair. Cinnamon brown eyes with so much depth they held the stars—now with a gold iris containing such rich color and intensity that Grimmjow found himself breathless when he was caught in its gaze. Sunkissed skin that warmed the Arrancar’s frozen and dead body and filled him with life. Powerful scarred hands. A commanding voice with a gentle touch. A body straight from the heavens…

For years Grimmjow had called himself a king. A man with so much power he couldn’t be conquered. Kurosaki had defeated him and all this time he had resented it, seeing the loss as a fluke. Another king could never topple him, but a god...a god could demolish him or show mercy. There was no other way to describe Kurosaki. With his lineage of multiple races with vastly different cultures and seemingly endless power, what else could he be? He was literally connected with everything in the four worlds. He was a deity. Denying otherwise would be a mistake.

And yet this deity chose to be with him.

Grimmjow didn’t understand it. He doubted he ever would.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Overthinking sh*t only caused problems. He needed to take his own advice.

“So f*ckin’ good, Ichigo,” Grimmjow sighed, voice shaking as he tightened his grip on the boy’s hair and laid down. It felt way too good to say that name.

The piercing prodded the hole of his aching erection and a moan fell freely from his lips. He continued to yank on the human’s hair, pleased to hear those filthy noises struggling to free themselves from the human’s busy mouth as black nails scratched his thighs in response. Burning hands took hold of Grimmjow’s wide hips and pulled him closer while those sinful moans grew louder. At first he hadn’t noticed the way the bed shook under him. It wasn’t until Ichigo’s whole body surged with a wet snarl, drool pouring from his lips and nails slicing into his skin, did Grimmjow realize what was going on. Kurosaki was humping the mattress. He was that f*cking turned on.

“Fóllame,” Grimmjow cursed.

Unable to hold himself back he started to roll his hips, thrusting slowly into Ichigo’s mouth to test the waters. The human replied with a desperate moan, tugging on Grimmjow’s hips to encourage him to do it again. Nails tearing at his skin and begging for the Arrancar to give everything he had.

“Hijo de puta,” he moaned. Grimmjow bucked his hips again, cautiously building speed as he watched Kurosaki take everything in stride. The human rocked his own hips in tune with Grimmjow’s thrusts, moaning lecherously as his lips met with his groin every time.

“Ichigo...eres tan malditamente hermosa,” Grimmjow panted, fingers tightening on orange hair.

The blush on Ichigo’s face darkened and Grimmjow’s stomach flipped. There was a good chance Kurosaki knew what he was saying. As embarrassing as that was he couldn’t stop. Not while the bastard seemed to enjoy it so much.

Pulling hard on Ichigo’s hair he slammed his hips forward, snarling as he struck the back of Ichigo’s throat, “No dejes que se te suba a la cabeza, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo snorted, smirking around Grimmjow’s member and causing a tiny smile to curl on the Arrancar’s lips.

This whole situation was beyond abnormal and he shouldn’t be enjoying it, but he couldn’t care less.

Black nails scratched down his thighs, the muscles jumping and twitching at the touch when those wonderfully scarred hands guided Grimmjow’s legs over his shoulders. Oh. Pink bit at Grimmjow cheeks and he felt their heat spread to his ears. Kurosaki’s head was trapped between his thighs and seeing how the ginger couldn’t stop touching them he most likely wanted it that way. He’ll admit it. It was a rather nice view. The boy’s head between his thighs, sucking him off like a desperate whor* as he humped the bed to get off.

Ichigo’s eyes caught his gaze, eyes widening upon seeing the Arrancar’s blush and making Grimmjow blush harder as he bristled.

“Not a word, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow snapped.

Ichigo hummed a chuckle, another smirk stretching his lips as he sped up, bobbing his head and sucking until Grimmjow’s thighs trembled and started to close, squeezing the ginger’s head. Yeah. He was right. Kurosaki loved being between his thighs, if that blush and moan was anything to go by.

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow’s teeth slashed through the skin of his lip as he found it nearly impossible to keep his body from shaking or hold his head up, “Ich...Ichigo ‘m getting close.”

He expected Kurosaki to pull back.

He didn’t.

Grimmjow tugged on orange hair, shivering at the moan Ichigo released. “Ichigo, I’m serious. I can’t—f*ck! I can’t hold off much longer. Get off,” Grimmjow ordered.

Brown and gold eyes met his gaze and Grimmjow’s heart stuttered.

Kurosaki had no intention to pull away.

Ichigo dropped his head, taking every inch of Grimmjow back into his throat and swallowing repeatedly, massaging his co*ck with his throat and breathing heavily through his nose.

“f*ck!” Grimmjow barked, throwing his head back as he arched off the bed. He really tried to hold back, but he was at his limit. Both of his hands became tangled in Ichigo’s hair, pulling hard on the soft locks as he jerked his hips forward and pushed himself deeper into Ichigo’s throat, squeezing his head tightly with pale thighs. Grimmjow’s climax crashed into him in overwhelming waves. Each one caused his body to twitch and his hips to buck while booming moans tore through his throat—ones he would be extremely embarrassed about later. Ichigo coughed as his throat was flooded with cum, but quickly recovered and swallowed every drop greedily, pushing Grimmjow’s thighs tighter on his head as he did so.

When the final wave washed over him, Grimmjow fell back onto the bed as a massive panting mess, mind and vision stuffed and clouded with lust as his body became limp. With a few greedy swallows Ichigo pulled off his co*ck inch by inch, releasing him with a final suck that ripped a tired moan from Grimmjow’s lungs. Still on his high, Grimmjow barely registered when Ichigo crawled back on top and kissed him deeply—his moans and heavy pants turning the kiss sloppy and uncoordinated. If he weren’t so spent already he was sure the taste of himself on Kurosaki’s lips would’ve—

Something bitter and salty slid over his tongue and Grimmjow groaned. The bastard was making him swallow his own cum. Why was that so f*cking hot? He didn’t put up a fight and willingly swallowed everything Kurosaki gave him, fingers weakly grasping at the ginger’s shirt and gasping when their kiss was broken. Grimmjow’s tongue licked his lips, tasting himself in Kurosaki’s spit before he stroked the inside of his cheek in search of cum, making sure he swallowed every last drop given to him. He was pretty damn sure more than that came out of him. Kurosaki really had swallowed nearly all of it.

“Guess that must’ve felt pretty good,” Ichigo snickered, a wide grin splitting his face in two as he licked his lips, “You said my name, like, fifty times when you came.”

Grimmjow mirrored the ginger and licked his lips again. He did? Dear god. He doesn’t remember doing that at all. f*ck, he barely remembered his own name. Grimmjow’s hand brushed over his stomach, pausing when something slick met his fingertips. He lifted his hand and stared. Kurosaki had made a mess on him again. Must’ve jerked off while they were kissing. No wonder he had been breathing so hard.

“Grimmjow? You okay?” Ichigo asked with a tilt of his head.

Grimmjow nodded and laid his hand back onto his stomach. He barely registered a word the human said. Ichigo...the brat really did get him to say it. There was no way he could ever say his name again. Not around other people, at least. It would only remind him of tonight and while it wasn’t unpleasant he really didn’t need to pop a boner in f*cking public. ...Well, not unless Kurosaki could take care of it. Still. Kurosaki’s first name was a filthy confession or a forbidden curse word. He wasn’t even sure he could say it during another distraction.

“So, uh, did you really mean all that stuff you said?”

Grimmjow opened his eyes, having not realized that he even closed them. The blush on Kurosaki’s face was so innocent, although the state of his lips claimed otherwise. What had he even said?

“E-eres tan m...malditamente hermosa,” Ichigo said, his Japanese accent butchering the Spanish he was trying to replicate, “I think that’s how you said it. I, ah, I’m not the most fluent in speaking Spanish, but I understand most of the language thanks to Chad.”

He really said that? Was he crazy? Why would he say such a thing?

The wise choice would be to say it was a mistake. A jumbled translation. The wrong choice of words. That’s what he should’ve done...but the look on Kurosaki’s face…

Expectant.

Excited.

Enthralled.

Embarrassed.

While in this body...this Gigai with a heart...there’s no way he could lie.

As he always said, there was no point in hiding the truth.

The corners of Grimmjow’s lips curled as he lifted his hand to flick the skin between Kurosaki’s eyebrows, chortling when the boy’s nose wrinkled cutely as he winced.

“I told you not to get a big head about it, Kurosaki.”

Chapter 37: Près De Toi Je Rêve Encore

Chapter Text

“What if...what if I can’t get any stronger than this?”

Grimmjow stabbed the air with a quick thrust of his arm, the moon’s light bouncing off Pantera and his brilliant blue eyes as he turned his gaze to his Fracción. “What?”

Di Roy sat in the shadows of a towering boulder with his small body curled in on itself, his eyes staring at the cold white sand. His eyes were the only feature he had that looked even remotely human, and even then one of them was blood red and swallowed by his massive mask. Compared to Grimmjow and the others, Di Roy was the only one who hadn’t changed much after gaining contact from the Hogyoku. He still looked more monster than human and his powers...they hadn’t changed either.

“What if I can’t get stronger? What if this is my limit? It’s been months since we were changed by that Soul Reaper and I’m the only one who hasn’t made any progress. I still can’t bind with my sword. At this rate...I’m gonna hold everyone back,” the small Hollow brushed his fingers over the grip of his katana before tossing it aside with a frustrated snarl, the sword striking the desert ground with a pathetic tumpt, “I’m completely useless.”

Grimmjow studied the boy. Out of everyone in the group he looked and acted the youngest. His rash and rebellious nature only highlighted their age gap and made obvious the possible reasons as to why someone would die at such a young age. Unfortunately his psychological age held a lot of drawbacks human teenagers seemed to have: doubt and self hatred being the most prominent. Di Roy wouldn’t usually come to him with this kind of thing. He normally tried to bother one of the other Fracción with his questions and problems, so Grimmjow wasn’t equipped to deal with this situation. The issue had to be pretty big for Di Roy to choose him as a consort.

Grimmjow straightened his form and lowered his blade as he turned to face the boy. “What do you think of Shawlong?”

Di Roy’s face twisted in a mixture of confusion and disgust. “You want my opinion of him? I thought you two were just f*cking? Gross, are you seriously interested in hi—?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Grimmjow barked, spitting as his ears folded back, tail twitching and pink eating his pale cheeks.

Di Roy held up his hands in surrender and Grimmjow continued to glare until his anger broke with a snort.

“You think Shawlong’s strong, don’t you?” Grimmjow asked.

“Well...yeah? He’s the best in the group besides you. Kinda figured that’s why you two are so close,” the gears turned in Di Roy’s head, “And probably why you guys bumped uglies a few times.”

Grimmjow snarled and Di Roy raised his hands again. Little twerp was lucky he wasn’t hungry.

“And what about Edrad and Nakeem? Are they strong too?” Grimmjow continued.

“Yeah. Edrad treats me like a kid and Nakeem is always quiet, but I’ve never doubted their abilities,” Di Roy replied.

“And Yylfordt?”

Di Roy paused, then shrugged. “He’s an overconfident, prettyboy asshole who makes fun of me almost as much as he stares at your ass, but yeah. He’s strong too.”

Yylfordt did what? Grimmjow shook the thought from his mind. That wasn’t important.

“You recognizing a pattern, kid?” he asked.

“...I’m the weak one in the group? Is this supposed to cheer me up? You kinda suck at it,” Di Roy snorted.

“Shut up! What I’m saying is that everyone in this group is strong. You think I would let some useless nobody follow me around everywhere?” Grimmjow said as he sheathed Pantera.

“But I am weak! I can’t do anything except kill off little Hollows and the newbie Adjuchas,” Di Roy argued.

In a flash the tip of the boy’s sword was placed against his neck, the blade glowing in the hand of Lord Grimmjow as he towered over his Fracción.

“There’s a difference between being weak and lacking strength. If you give up, if you let others trample you, if you don’t fight and train to become stronger despite all the odds—then you are weak,” Grimmjow lowered the katana and flipped it, holding out the hilt to the young Hollow as the cold metal nipped his skin, “I’ve known you for a while, Di Roy. You never give up and you get into fights that would be impossible for you to win on your own and you fight tooth and nail to earn your place among us. You’re far from weak.”

Di Roy could only stare. Grimmjow felt a rare smile curl the corners of his lips.

“You’re one of the strongest guys I know. I have no interest in being involved with those who aren’t. My Fracción aren’t weak, remember that.”

A soft gasp escaped Grimmjow’s lips as his eyes shot open. His blue eyes searched the vast and empty white ceiling above him while the remaining itches of fear melted away. It was a dream, but it was also a memory. How long ago had that happened? Eight years? Twenty? A hundred? It seemed so long ago and he had completely forgotten about that day...so why was he thinking about it now?

Warm hands chased away the cold from his skin with a simple glide of a calloused palm over his chest, down to his stomach. A short tremor passed through Grimmjow’s shoulders as he turned his gaze to Kurosaki. He looked exhausted. While his mood had lifted recently due to the return of his Hollow—Ogihci—there was still a lot of stress in his life. Three exams in two days in one week was the first strike to the face. Urahara’s constant concern about the strange growth still in Kurosaki’s chest (even though it no longer caused any damage to his health) refusing to let Ichigo train and instead sit for hours as Urahara played doctor was also grating on the boy’s nerves. Although Grimmjow was certain the ultimate punch to the gut was money. The ginger was still searching for a job, something that will keep cash flowing, but so far he wasn’t having any luck. The usual response was that Kurosaki was “overqualified” and the second most popular was “no open positions”. A bunch of bullsh*t in Grimmjow’s opinion. Ishida was more than willing to pay for any expenses Kurosaki had, but true to form the brat refused to take Uryū’s money without having earned it. Apparently saving the lives of literally everyone in the three worlds wasn’t worthy enough to accept a few hundred bucks from a rich prettyboy who wouldn’t even miss the cash. At least Kurosaki agreed to help Ishida with his work long enough to earn grocery money. Stubborn dumbass.

A short hitch in Ichigo’s breath hindered his soft snore as he pressed his face deeper into the Arrancar’s shoulder. It was like the kid was a snake trying to tie himself around Grimmjow. Head on his shoulder. An arm draped across his torso. Even Kurosaki’s legs were attempting to tangle with his. Figures. He should’ve known the kid was clingy. Grimmjow knows he should be mad. It was an invasion of his privacy and personal space and blah blah blah. Once you let a guy suck your dick it’s a little difficult to claim you don’t want him touching you. Especially if that guy is Ichigo Kurosaki.

Grimmjow watched him silently before he started to pull away. A small frown marred Ichigo’s face as he tried weakly to hold onto him, but eventually Grimmjow was able to escape his grasp and sat up.

“You want my opinion of him? I thought you two were just f*cking? Gross, are you seriously interested in hi—?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Grimmjow scowled as he continued to watch the sleeping boy. Shawlong had never expected anything more than sex out of their relationship. Neither wanted love or attention or anything like that. They just wanted to get off, plain and simple. If anything they were more like friends than lovers. Out of the five, Shawlong understood him better than anyone else. They had mutual respect for one another and even though he never said it Shawlong was considered his right-hand man.

“He’s an overconfident, prettyboy asshole who makes fun of me almost as much as he stares at your ass, but yeah. He’s strong too.”

Yylfordt was a different story. They only had sex two—maybe three—times and he was extremely clingy. It was different from Ichigo, though. Yylfordt liked to brag. He merely wanted to show off that his ass was getting tapped by the boss and damn near begged for attention and got real grabby with his arms. Eventually it wore away, but those few months Grimmjow suffered through gave him a headache just thinking about it.

Kurosaki was clingy...but it was different. It was strange, but Grimmjow reveled in the human’s need to be close to the Arrancar. Kurosaki still gave him space, trying to avoid certain topics and made sure Grimmjow was alone with himself more than once a day, but he also tried to spend every second he could with the Arrancar. Not to mention Kurosaki respected the hell outta him and even claimed Grimmjow to be one of the strongest people he knew—which Grimmjow already knew himself, but that admittance didn’t stroke his ego any less. The human seemed to have a good balance between the two...but it still didn’t answer why Grimmjow didn’t mind Kurosaki being that way.

“What if...what if I can’t get any stronger than this?”

Grimmjow felt his throat tighten as he tore his eyes away from Ichigo’s youthful face. Kurosaki had asked him the same question once and Grimmjow hadn’t had an answer. It was probably a good thing he kept his mouth shut. Di Roy trusted and believed every f*cking syllable that Grimmjow had uttered and look where that got him. He fought harder. He trained harder. He never backed down. He never quit. He was the first into battle—

He was the first to die.

Grimmjow tried to swallow but it felt as if bone were lodged in his esophagus. Di Roy had tried so hard to prove himself, to be an asset instead of a hindrance, and wanted nothing more than to have Grimmjow’s respect and admiration. The pleading look that burned in his eyes when he asked to join them on their raid of Kurakara Town was so full of passion and confidence that Grimmjow couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

He should have.

Di Roy was strong—Grimmjow never once doubted that—but their enemies were stronger. He had too much confidence—too much pride in the young Arrancar that he couldn’t see the possibility where Di Roy lost. He underestimated the Soul Reapers. He could have slaughtered every last one of them without batting an eyelash, but his Fracción...he shouldn’t have let any of them go. They all should have picked partners. They should have fought as a team. He was their leader and he abandoned them. The only goddamn person they believed in, trusted, and looked up to and he was too busy f*cking around with Kurosaki to help. It was all because of his selfish need, his idiotic desire to be the strongest and prove himself better than Kurosaki, better than Ulquiorra, better than Aizen that killed his Fracción. He might as well have slit their throats with Pantera and cut out the middleman. It was all his faul—

“Grimmjow?”

Ichigo’s groggy voice caused Grimmjow’s body to jerk as he was ripped from his thoughts and his eyes locked on the human once more. A long yawn stretched Kurosaki’s jaw as he scrubbed at his eyes, his hair a frizzy mess that poured down his back in bumpy waves when he sat up.

“What’re y’doin’ up s’ late?” Ichigo asked, the tired question immediately followed by another yawn as he opened an eye.

Ichigo turned to stone as both eyes widened. “G-Grimmjow? Are you okay?” he asked cautiously.

A scowl furrowed Grimmjow’s brow. What the hell was he talking about? Of course he was fine. Why was he looking at him like that?

“Grimmjow…,” Ichigo’s hand stretched out and hovered an inch away from his face, “Grimmjow, you’re crying.”

The Arrancar blinked. What? He pressed his palm against his cheek and pulled it back. Ichigo was telling the truth. His palm was soaked. A drop landed on his wrist, tracing a blue vein before plunging into the vast sea of covers in his lap. More fell, jumping from his cheeks and sliding off his jaw like rain while all he could do was stare. He was crying. Why? Why was he crying?

“Grimmjow….”

A warm hand cupped his cheek and his blue eyes met Kurosaki’s face once more. The human was scared. Not for himself. For Grimmjow. He was worried. Why? A calloused thumb brushed away the stream of tears from under his right eye as Ichigo moved closer slowly. He wasn’t leaning in for a kiss. He wasn’t touching any part of his body except his face. He didn’t want anything from Grimmjow. He wanted to help him. Why?

“Grimmjow, are you okay? Is it physical pain?” Ichigo asked, his voice gentle but firm, politely demanding for an answer. It was the same tone Isshin used on his patients.

Grimmjow parted his lips to speak—but nothing escaped his throat. The words he wanted to say died the moment he opened his mouth and refused to be heard. He tried to push them free but they didn’t budge. His voice was gone. He hadn’t had this problem in years. Why were all the bad things suddenly returning?

Wordless, Grimmjow shook his head in an attempt to communicate. Physically he wasn’t hurting. He wasn’t sure what was.

Ichigo’s brown eyes searched his face before carefully placing a hand on his other cheek and wiping away a line of tears. It was pointless. He was still crying. “Do you know why you’re crying?”

Grimmjow shrugged and severed the connection between their eyes. He knew, but he didn’t understand it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ichigo asked, scooting closer as he continued to hold his face.

Grimmjow shook his head. He definitely didn’t want to do that. Even if he could he still didn’t want to.

“Okay…,” Ichigo brushed tears away one last time before he pulled back, but he didn’t go far as he started playing with the ends of his hair nervously, “Um, I bought a new anime a while back—well it’s not new, it’s from the nineties I just haven’t watched it yet—but, ah, do you want to watch it? We can relax on the couch and I can make some popcorn. I think I might have some sweets hidden somewhere, too.”

Kurosaki really was worried about him. Just like five years ago. That’s just who he is...but it’s also more than that. Kurosaki worried about strangers. He worried about his family and he worried about his friends—he worried about Ishida, too.

But he wasn’t offering to comfort Ishida at two o’clock in the morning with television and food.

“Unless you want to go back to sleep?” Ichigo asked tentatively.

No way. Grimmjow shook his head and climbed out of bed, reaching out to grab Ichigo’s wrist and tugged on his arm. Ichigo continued to watch without moving. The Arrancar tugged on his arm again and tilted his head toward the door. Understanding him, Ichigo smiled softly and slipped out of bed to stand beside him.

“Alright, how about you grab the covers and get comfortable on the couch while I get everything set up?” Ichigo asked with a soothing pat on the Arrancar’s arm.

Grimmjow nodded and released his wrist, although slowly, and yanked the covers from the bed. He pulled the covers over his shoulders, shivering to regain the warmth he felt from touching Kurosaki and made his way to the couch. He flopped down on his usual spot, the end furthest from the television, and drew his legs onto the cushion in an attempt to pull as much of his body as possible inside the blanket. He watched silently as Ichigo set everything up. There was a slight sway in each step that was quickly followed by a stifled yawn. He almost appeared as if he were falling asleep even while standing. He confirmed his suspicions when the harsh scream of the microwave made Kurosaki nearly jump out if his skin. The boy was exhausted. Why would he even offer to do this, then?

“Alright,” Ichigo yawned as he sat beside on the other end of the couch, placing their nutrition-lacking spoils between them, “I got popcorn and various candy that...yeah some are probably outta date so keep an eye out for that. First disk is in...you ready?”

Grimmjow nodded and watched the TV expectantly. He frowned at the blurry figures that appeared on the screen, then released a frustrated growl. He grabbed a corner of the blanket and scrubbed viciously at his eyes. Why was he still crying? Why the f*ck won’t it stop?

“Grimmjow, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Warm hands caught his wrists and pulled his hands from his face. Calloused fingers framed his cheeks as sunkissed thumbs gathered tears and gently pushed them away. Ichigo’s eyes connected with his and a small gasp fell from pink lips. Ichigo removed his hands quickly and moved back to his side of the couch.

“Sorry. I invade your personal space a lot, don’t I?” Ichigo sighed, worriedly rubbing at the back of his neck.

He did. It didn’t really bother him anymore. Grimmjow had gotten used to it. Admittedly he had started to appreciate it. At least for now.

Grimmjow shrugged, trying to signify that he didn’t care. His eyes focused back on the television, pleased to see the anime the way he was meant to. The animation was fluid and detailed and the creativity behind the designs of machinery alone made the story compelling. Of course the main protagonist was just as appealing. Although the name “Cowboy Bebop” was rather strange.

“Hey...you mind if I ask you a question?”

Grimmjow’s eyes shifted over to the human. He opened his mouth to speak but once again the words he wanted to say couldn’t be formed by his tongue and lips. He was left with nothing but nods and shrugs.

“Ah, you don’t have to say anything. You can just nod or shake your head. Is that okay?” Ichigo asked.

He thought about it and immediately nodded his head and shrugged. There wasn’t a reason to hide anything.

“Good. Has this, ah, being unable to speak thing...has it happened to you before?” he questioned, eyes curious.

Grimmjow nodded briskly.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me. That’s all I wanted to know,” Ichigo said with a healing smile. His curious eyes had changed. They were full of understanding. Whatever he had revealed to Kurosaki gave the ginger an answer to a question he hadn’t asked. At least one of them knew what was going on.

They didn’t speak for a few hours after that. ...Okay. Poor choice of words. Grimmjow wasn’t speaking. Ichigo was. It seemed the boy couldn’t stop. He filled the silence, speaking for both of them as they watched the show. All of it was pure gibberish to Grimmjow. Kurosaki was babbling about the anime—strange tidbits, information on the animators, how the story was conjured, and even shared that the director of Cowboy Bebop also directed his favorite anime, Samurai Champloo. Grimmjow barely understood what any of it meant, but he was glad Kurosaki was talking. He didn’t like silence. He hardly ever invested in conversations, even when he could, but he was used to constantly hearing voices. Mild conversations to heated arguments to giddy exclamations—all of it. Five years of silence had been beyond painful.

“I think Spike is my favorite,” Ichigo mused and shoved a jumbled concoction of chocolate and buttered popcorn into his mouth, “He’s pretty cool. Pretends like he doesn’t care but actually does. Skilled fighter. He’s more than people expect him to be. A smartass. Kinda reminds me of Mugen just a bit...I think I might have a character type.”

Grimmjow snorted and shook his head as a light smile grazed his lips. The boy was a walking cliché. A goody two shoes, prettyboy with a golden heart that likes the violent bad boys. He should’ve seen that coming a mile away.

His eyes jumped back to Ichigo’s face.

Is that why the human took an interest in him? Was he just his type? Grimmjow didn’t consider himself to be something as stupid as a bad boy but he wasn’t exactly a good person. From his point of view most of the sh*t he did was justified. Being a cannibal and literally more animal than man made most of his actions excusable. Then there was the bloodlust and hunger for battle that wasn’t as easily explained. He wasn’t a hero and he wasn’t a villain—he really wasn’t anything. But from the eyes of a Soul Reaper, Quincy, or human he looked like a demon. Was that it? Ichigo just had the hots for an ill tempered jackass who was more monster than man?

“Grimm? You okay? You need some water?” Ichigo asked.

No. Even if Kurosaki had a thing for bad boys he would be friendly no matter who he was. But...would he be this friendly with just anyone? Or did he want something from Grimmjow? He had to want something from him, right?

“Grimm?”

Fingers brushed over the shell of his ear and grazed his jaw, the fire living in Kurosaki’s skin warming his face. Those mismatched eyes—the brown so warm and inviting and the gold cold and hungry—they were always watching him with such intensity. Even now those eyes...those goddamn eyes...why were they looking at him like that? What did Kurosaki want?

“Grimmjow?” Ichigo murmured, his concern sparking into fear, “Grimm, please, respond to me somehow.”

Grimmjow lunged forward. Their snacks crashed to the floor, scattering on the white carpet as Grimmjow yanked Ichigo towards him and crushed their lips together in a deep, sloppy kiss.

“Mmmff!”

As Ichigo’s eyes widened Grimmjow’s closed, pulling the ginger closer as he hummed into their kiss. Sharp canines nipped at pink lips, a tongue diving into Ichigo’s warm mouth as Grimmjow tilted his head for better access. This is what Kurosaki wanted, wasn’t it? If the human was only being nice because he wanted to get off he should just say so. Grimmjow didn’t need Kurosaki to coddle him or care for him or any of that sh*t to get what he wants. He’d prefer Ichigo just...take what he wanted instead of buttering him up and tricking him.

It wouldn’t hurt as much if Ichigo was honest.

With a low groan rumbling in his throat Grimmjow’s hands moved to Ichigo’s hair, tugging on the thick strands, and his shoulder, nails digging deep into sunkissed skin as he fought back a whimper of his own. The noise was hollow. He got nothing out of this. The kiss felt great and Ichigo tasted fantastic as always, but it wasn’t satisfying at all. It felt wrong. He swallowed that sick feeling and yanked hard on Ichigo’s hair once more. This was what Kurosaki wanted. There weren’t any feelings between them. It was the same as it was with Shawlong and Yylfordt.

Sex and nothing more.

Burning hands were placed on Grimmjow’s chest and the Arrancar groaned in response, shivering as his cold skin warmed and broke out in a wave of goosebumps.

Kissing and nothing more.

He pulled on long hair again, empty heat pooling in his belly at the sound of Kurosaki’s low moan.

A distraction and nothing more.

The warm hands on his chest pushed him back and their kiss shattered. When Grimmjow moved forward to restart their kiss the hands on his chest became firm, holding him back from the human.

“Grimmjow...stop,” Ichigo panted heavily.

Stop? Why? This is what he wanted. Kurosaki didn’t have to be nice to get it. He made that excruciatingly obvious. So why was he saying no? It didn’t make any sense.

“What...what was that about?” Ichigo demanded.

He was scowling. Why? It’s what he wanted! Grimmjow opened his mouth to speak when his voice failed him again. With a snarl Grimmjow slapped Ichigo’s hands away and pointed at Ichigo’s chest, then held out his hands flat—palms up—and curled his fingers in a clawing motion as he brought his hands to himself, and pointed at his own chest. Ichigo could only stare.

“Ah, I don’t know sign language, Grimm. And I don’t think you’re using Japanese sign language, anyways,” Ichigo said perplexed.

Goddamnit this was annoying. With a growl Grimmjow stabbed Ichigo’s chest with his finger and then gestured towards his own lap. Ichigo’s eyes followed the motion and his whole face turned scarlet upon seeing the Arrancar’s tight underwear. As if he hadn’t seen them a billion times before.

“Wh-what the hell is that supposed to mean? And why did you kiss me! You just had a nightmare or something and you were crying and now you’re all over me. What the heck is going on? Don’t you need some space and time to calm down?” Ichigo asked, looking more and more lost with each question.

It seemed like that was the mood of the night. Gears churning, Grimmjow gave Ichigo an odd look as he pointed at the human once again, pointed to his lap, and then made an X with his hands.

“I don’t…of course I don’t want that right now!” Ichigo exclaimed as his blush darkened, “I’m trying to make you feel better! I wouldn’t want a distraction while you’re upset. That’s rude to you and terrible for me to even ask for such a thing when you’re vulnerable. Is that what you thought I was trying to do? Get in your pants?”

Grimmjow nodded. Without a doubt he was sure that’s what Kurosaki was after. That’s all anyone was after. Right? A nice piece of ass. An easy lay. A powerful yet expendable soldier. That’s all anyone ever wanted from him.

Ichigo deflated slightly as his blush softened. “Grimm, we’ve been over this. I’m not trying to use you. I only want to do those things when you want to do them too. If...if that stuff is going to cause problems we can stop. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Grimmjow blinked. So...he didn’t want that? Kurosaki was just genuinely...caring for him? No one had done that for him before. Well, Shawlong had tried to do something similar, but Grimmjow refused to be dotted on and treated like he was helpless or in need of someone’s aid. Besides, they weren’t lovers and they weren’t friends. Why was Kurosaki so concerned about his health and happiness?

“...is that...is that what you think sex is? Like, anything sexual between you and another person...you think they’re just using you?”

“Um, not that you were fishing for this, but you know I’m not trying to use you, right? I mean, I know you stop me from giving you compliments during...that stuff, but...when I say them it isn’t to manipulate or use you. It’s how I honestly feel and I never intended to use them against you. And I...I don’t like to think that I’m using you to get off. I don’t really...hook up with people often. I’m kinda picky about my partners and my goal isn’t to please only myself. I want you to feel as good as I do.”

“I-I, ah I mean, we don’t have to. I just...I dunno, I thought you might like it.”

“How ‘bout it, your majesty? May I be of service to my king?”

Kurosaki legitimately cared…

An embarrassed blush dusted Grimmjow’s cheeks as he slipped back onto his side of the couch, closing his thighs tightly together as he pulled the blanket back onto his shoulders. Oh boy. He dug himself into some deep sh*t this time.

“Grimmjow? What’s wrong?” Ichigo asked with a raised brow.

Grimmjow shook his head and refused to meet his eyes. This is probably the worst situation he’s ever been in. Embarrassment always overruled physical pain.

Ichigo studied his face with narrowed eyes before a massive, cheesy grin stretched his lips. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you have a thing for being cared for? Didn’t you mock me for that?” he teased.

Grimmjow struck the human with a sharp glare and a powerful flip of his middle finger, but they only made Ichigo smile more. That or maybe it was Grimmjow’s obnoxious blush.

“Do you have any idea how f*cking cute that is?” Ichigo chirped—almost practically squealed—as he moved closer and laid an unsuspecting hand on his thigh, “Because it’s ridiculously adorable. Who knew someone as big and manly as you would be into that?”

Grimmjow drew the covers closer around himself and pulled his knees to his chest, forcing Ichigo’s hand to drop. He saw the irony. He didn’t need Kurosaki to point it out.

“Aw, you don’t need to pout. Seriously, it’s pretty awesome that you’d be into something so cute when you’re usually this big violent dude who wants to destroy my ass—okay, probably shouldn’t have said it like that,” Ichigo said while making a face.

Grimmjow pushed on Ichigo’s arm with his elbow, trying to move the ginger away but was unsuccessful due to his confinement in the blanket. The blanket wasn’t helping either. Everything was so damn warm. His cheeks were on fire. His body simmered with a heat his thighs couldn’t seem to extinguish. The blanket only maximized both—turning into an oven made of fabric.

“Oh man, you’re legitimately embarrassed right now. You’re so damn cute when you blush, you know that?” Ichigo said as he pressed himself against the Arrancar.

The bastard was grinning like an idiot. It was the biggest smile Kurosaki had worn up to date. Of course it had to be directed at him. Why did it have to be him? His friends and family should be the ones seeing this face, not him. Grimmjow didn’t care about what caused Ichigo to ignore and avoid them so much—he still shouldn’t be so chummy with his enemies. There had to be something wrong with Kurosaki’s head to get the two so mixed up.

A warm finger poked at his cheek as an arm slipped over his shoulder. “If you’re not careful I’mma gonna take a picture of you like this and make it the screensaver on my phone. I’m getting pretty bored of the generic background that comes with it,” Ichigo taunted.

That was it. Grimmjow cast the blanket aside and tackled Ichigo, slamming the ginger onto his back roughly and holding him in place. Kurosaki yelped in surprise but found himself unable to move away when Grimmjow locked his arms tightly around Ichigo’s waist and refused to let him go, dropping all of his dead weight onto the boy to keep him still as he pressed his ear to Ichigo’s chest.

“G-Grimmjow! Wh-what are you doing, man?” Ichigo stammered. His eyes widened. “W-wait...are you har—.” Ichigo’s face turned red, suddenly unable to speak.

Grimmjow snorted. What an idiot. He rubbed his cheek deeper into the boy’s chest with a soft, “shhhh,” whistling between his teeth.

“Grimmjow—.”

“Shh!”

Hearts were so weird. They were noisy little organs that gave away a creature’s hidden fears and desires. Made to keep a body living, but easily shattered by emotions. Kurosaki’s had by far the loudest heartbeat out of any human and Soul Reaper he had met. His heart practically screamed its existence at the world. So full of emotions. So strong. So determined. So brittle.

“You’re weird, you know that?” Ichigo sighed, but the sound was more content than annoyed.

Fingers carefully combed through his blue hair and Grimmjow hummed, letting his eyes slip closed.

Hollows had to trust word of mouth alone for news of the World of the Living and Hueco Mundo, so word spread like wildfire. He had heard a billion stories about the monster who destroyed Ulquiorra. Long orange hair. Snow white skin. Blood red markings. An impossibly massive canyon in its chest…

Grimmjow frowned and pressed his ear harder to Ichigo’s sternum. That Vasto Lorde...it couldn’t have been anyone else. There was no doubt it was Kurosaki. That power was undeniable. The gruesome hole in his chest was even harder to ignore. Ichigo had such a big heart...he tried to hold the whole world within that single muscle and stretched it so thin. For him to lose his heart and be forgotten, especially in the fragile mental state he’s in now, it would be catastrophic. That golden heart would turn into an endless black hole and destroy the whole world. No one would be spared. Kurosaki wouldn’t be spared either. Savior of the world or not...if Ichigo were a Hollow no one would think twice about ending his life.

Warm fingertips stroked his hair, paying close attention to the skin above his ear, and inadvertently coerced Grimmjow to open his eyes.

Whether Ichigo knew it or not he was at battle against his Hollow. He could continue to stay human and possibly remain powerless forever, or he could become a Hollow and gain the power he craved...but at a deadly price. In one form he keeps his heart but loses the power he wants. In the other he gains impenetrable power but loses his heart. The world always stays in balance. All good comes with bad.

Grimmjow could handle a blood thirsty Hollow. He didn’t care how destructive and vile Kurosaki’s Vasto Lorde form could be. He could handle that constant bloodshed and risk of death on a daily basis. All he had to do was stay alive and stay out of his way, and watch from afar as Kurosaki destroyed the world he once saved.

That wasn’t an issue for Grimmjow.

If Kurosaki were to decide his own fate...he would choose to be a human. He would hate to be powerless again but it was the choice that would benefit others the most. Forevermore a human...could Grimmjow handle that?

“What if...what if I can’t get any stronger than this?”

Grimmjow’s brows furrowed as his arms squeezed Ichigo’s waist firmly. He could handle it. Even without his powers Ichigo was still strong. If they couldn’t fight with swords then they could fight by hand. If he couldn’t justify killing Kurosaki then...then he wouldn’t kill him at all. He wanted to win fairly. If it took Kurosaki a hundred years to regain his power—or if he’s unable to regain any power at all—Grimmjow would wait. Kurosaki could live for a thousand years and not gain a drop of spiritual pressure and Grimmjow would still be here. He wouldn’t question it. He would wait for all of eternity because he knew Kurosaki was strong even if others didn’t see it. Kurosaki had potential. Just because he wasn’t an unstoppable force didn’t mean he was weak. Grimmjow wouldn’t be here if he was. He wouldn’t let an inferior being touch him the way Kurosaki did.

Thump-thump-thump.

Grimmjow turned his head to lay his other cheek against Ichigo’s chest, the heart hammering directly where Grimmjow’s mask was supposed to reside. He wouldn’t give up. He didn’t care how long it took. Ichigo was strong and he was going to get stronger again. Human. Hollow. Powerful or powerless. None of that mattered. Grimmjow wasn’t going to give up. He wasn’t going to leave.

He was going to do it right this time around.

Chapter 38: Moi Dans Tes Cicatrices

Chapter Text

His limbs were bound by rope and iron. Sewn to the hard body below him that held him in place. He couldn’t move and it wasn’t because of the possessive arm wrapped around his body. His muscles had morphed into lead and his bones to stone. The overzealous, abundant layers of blankets covering his tired body held their own gravitational pull and pinned him in place, making the mere thought of leaving this heavenly position seem outlandish and insane. The relentless heat seeping into his muscles from the firm form beneath him seemed to agree with how they caressed his buried structure, leaving the rest of the room in cold shadows that were sure to freeze him to his very core. Grimmjow rubbed his face deeper into a warm chest, enjoying the steady heartbeat and breathing pattern that sang into his sensitive ears. All of that was unneeded. He had no intentions to abandon such an oasis. Especially when Ichigo did this. Letting long fingers comb through his tangled hair, easing the knots loose until those slim fingers could brush through without resistance. As they always did those calloused fingertips stroked behind his ear. Coaxing his skin to break out in pathetic shivers of pleasure, those fingers massaging and scratching that sensitive spot to entice a low groan from Grimmjow’s throat.

“Grimm? You awake?”

Hearing someone speak with his ear pressed to their chest was an indescribable experience. Ichigo’s voice was so clear but the sound echoed and vibrated deeply in the cavity, creating a symphony with his steady heartbeat and lungs. It was little things like this that baffled Grimmjow. This was an everyday occurrence for humans. They could experience things like this all the time, yet they never did. Their world was chaotic to the point of making the human race restless and tense, never taking enjoyment from the world and freedom they had. Hollows never had opportunities to admire such things. They had no hearts. No moments of peace. No lovers to lay with in a safe place. Humans took all of this sh*t for granted. It’s not like Grimmjow cared if he had a heart or anything as stupid as a lover or partner, but the ability to relax and feel safe was a luxury he wished held a common occurrence in his life. Bloodthirsty or not, Hollow or not, he was exhausted just like everyone else.

“Grimm? Dude, I know you’re awake. You never make a sound when you sleep.”

Kurosaki’s voice sounded even better in stereo. What a bastard.

“Been ‘round you too long,” Grimmjow replied, his voice weak and hushed, but thankfully back into use, “Your snorin’s rubbin’ off ‘n me.”

Chuckles in this position were beautiful too. He liked the way the sound vibrated in Ichigo’s chest. It tickled his ear.

“You’re obviously awake, idiot. Glad to hear your voice again, though,” Ichigo murmured.

Grimmjow hummed as sunkissed fingers continued to run through his wavy hair. Last night had been a mess. Something Grimmjow desperately wanted to ignore. Admittedly while he hadn’t cried consciously and he hadn’t chosen to lose his voice—but he did have to take credit for attacking Kurosaki and trying to initiate something neither of them wanted—none of that made it any less humiliating. Crying in front of his enemy. Showing weakness to someone besides himself. As a Hollow his mere existence was already garbage, but hell if this didn’t make it worse.

“Usually comes back when I calm down,” Grimmjow murmured.

He didn’t like talking about his condition. Before Kurosaki he never had to. For most of his life he had been alone. The only one who noticed the absence of his voice was himself and it hadn’t been an issue. When he gained traveling companions as an adjuchas that’s when it became complicated.

The first time that hiderance reared its ugly head with an audience he wasn’t sure why it happened. They were hunting Hollows; easy targets that couldn’t even begin to dream to cause problems. There shouldn’t have been any difficulties. Then again they hadn’t anticipated to be interrupted by a rivaling adjuchas. It wasn’t particularly strong, at least not relative to Grimmjow’s power, but the beast was desperate and crafty. Starving Hollows were always the worst to fight. For them it was literally life and death, doing everything in their power to survive; living off instinct and instinct alone. Tricky but not threatening in the slightest.

He hadn’t expected the adjuchas to bring its tail down upon his head like a hammer.

One strike caused Grimmjow’s ears to ring as his vision blurred and his body hardened into a heavy steel statue, making him stunned beyond words. Literally. The blow to his head left him feeling gutted and weak, inferior to the massive creature before him—which was f*cking ridiculous because the bastard had only half of his spiritual pressure. The creature was a nobody, a nothing, but its strike rocked him to his very core and left him vulnerable. He felt so pitiful. Insignificant.

Then it said that word.

One word in a deep, growling voice that had been dramatically altered by years of alcohol and smoking. A man’s voice that froze the blood in his veins and snatched the air from his lungs. A cruel voice that snarled, “worthless,” before striking him a second time and successfully cracking open his skull.

He survived because of his Fracción. Edrad and Di Roy viciously tore the adjuchas apart while Nakeem tended to his wounds with Shawlong’s help. The wound wasn’t deep. His regeneration along with Nakeem’s healing abilities sealed the wound within an hour or so and everything had returned to normal. All except for his ability to speak. He just...couldn’t. He wanted to. He tried, but it didn’t work. It took almost a full human day for it to pass before he could manage a word or two in reply and travel without constantly looking over his shoulder. His Fracción wisely never questioned him and he never explained it. He doubted he really could. Fortunately the incidents were few and far between so it rarely ever affected their lives.

Then Aizen came along.

That’s when his condition worsened.

Grimmjow had gotten away with it for a while. He wasn’t one for talking in the first place so if he didn’t reply they assumed he wasn’t listening or didn’t care enough to give input on the conversation. Of course over time Aizen had grown suspicious. He was a cruel man. Brutal, especially to the sexta Espada, but those last months of his reign were pure torture. Grimmjow could tell that the man was toying with him. Teasing and testing him like some science experiment that he wished to see fall apart from the inside out. First, Aizen allowed—practically encouraged—Tosen to punish him by mutilating his body. It only took an instant. One moment he was listening to two bastards bitching about his reckless attack upon Kurakara Town, the next his arm was sheered from his body and burning at his feet. It happened so quickly but the pain lasted for weeks. For days he couldn’t speak, tortured with the nauseating feeling of Tosen’s blade cutting his skin, slicing his muscles and tendons, and sawing through bone. The taste and smell of his burning flesh engraved in his exceptional senses. He had been violated. Purposely handicapped. Stripped of his identity and discarded as if he were useless. Used and no longer needed. He had met the tortured souls of men and women who had been used and discarded by selfish and disgusting people. Left to rot beside dumpsters in alleyways after those sick, evil bastards had their fun with unwilling victims, uncaring of what they had done to those fragile bodies and minds. After that incident he easily understood why they turned into vindictive Hollows with a thirst to devour and destroy the abusive and cruel that crossed their path. They were forced to wallow in their pain for an eternity. It was the only form of justice they could reach.

Then there was the incident during a meeting taking place just after Kurosaki arrived into Hueco Mundo. Grimmjow had acted as if he had free will, that he could do as he pleased without permission. It was a mistake he made over and over again. One that always ended with the same punishment. Aizen’s spiritual pressure had manipulated his body with ease. Forcing him to his knees and controlling his body—his breathing, his his sweat, his fear—as if he were nothing more than a doll in his grasp. He was suffocated and pinned and unable to fight back or, heaven forbid, run. He felt like a child. Dying to spit curses and scream but all words losing volume on his tongue.

He hated those memories. He hated falling mute when he wanted to bellow his hatred from the top of his lungs. He despised that weakness. He never wanted to speak of it. He wanted to pretend it didn’t exist.

It was different with Kurosaki.

He wasn’t going to have an in-depth conversation about it. There's no way in hell he’d ever let the brat ask a billion questions about it either, but he didn’t mind offering little bits and pieces of information here and there. Kurosaki wasn’t Aizen. He wasn’t a villain and he didn’t prey upon his vulnerabilities. Grimmjow could trust him.

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad you got some rest. You were pretty exhausted and I know you’re still trying to catch up on your sleep from looking after me. Thanks again for that,” Ichigo said, his finger tracing the shell of Grimmjow’s ear before gently pinching and tugging on his lobe.

“You are pretty exhausting,” Grimmjow remarked.

His words earned him another chuckle, the sound bringing a tiny smile to his lips. Grimmjow liked that sound a lot.

He shifted his legs in an attempt to get comfortable, frowning at the constriction of the thick blankets burying him alive. “What’s with all the blankets, Kurosaki?”

Another lovely chuckle. “As nice as you are to look at I figured you’d be getting cold without wearing any clothes besides your underwear. I didn’t want to disturb you so I just grabbed all the blankets I could reach. Luckily I tend to keep a few on the back of the couch. We should probably invest in some pajamas or sweats for you to wear at night.”

Grimmjow hummed again as he snuggled deeper into Ichigo’s arms. “Not enough freedom of movement. Too warm. Sleep naked if I could,” he admitted.

The ginger snickered and scratched behind Grimmjow’s ear vigorously until Grimmjow groaned and squirmed against him. Damn tease.

“I’m not exactly against that,” Ichigo admitted, his voice lowering and growing husky.

Dear lord was this bastard always horny?

Grimmjow craned his neck to look at the human, resting his chin on Ichigo’s sternum as he gave the man a stern look. “‘M not doin’ it if it makes you happy,” he scoffed.

Ichigo smirked as his fingers slipped down to stroke a pale jaw. “Clothes or no clothes I’ll still like it. You’re one of those guys that looks good in anything.”

The Arrancar couldn’t help but snort. Like Kurosaki wasn’t one of those guys too. The bastard had practically been dying and still looked gorgeous. Not very many people could pull that off.

A flash of light pierced the darkness. The lightning illuminated Ichigo’s features as thunder snarled furiously and rattled the walls of the apartment, the returning darkness causing Ichigo’s gold eye to glow. Kurosaki tilted his head to peer out the window, watching as fat drops of rain splattered and splashed against the glass. Grimmjow hadn’t even realized that it was raining.

“I figured we were going to get some bad weather today. My scars have been bugging me since last night,” Ichigo mused. His fingers retreated from Grimmjow’s jaw and relocated to massage his own shoulder. Right where multiple scars laid.

Grimmjow’s brow knitted. “What’s the weather gotta do with your skin?”

“Hm?” Ichigo turned his eyes back to the Arrancar and realization dawned on his face. “Oh, right, you guys probably don’t get rain in Hueco Mundo. When there’s a change in the atmosphere, usually caused by rain, it can irritate old wounds. Weak joints and scars are typically affected; in my case it’s scars. Not everyone can feel it but I often can.”

Kurosaki was right. It never rained in Hueco Mundo. Constantly cold and constantly dry: his frostbitten hell hole of a home. The World of the Living was strange. There was so much variety in everything—it made it all unbelievably complicated.

“Which ones?” Grimmjow asked.

The ginger gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

Grimmjow studied the human’s eyes before he slowly pushed himself up, rubbing his tired eyes as he sat in Ichigo’s lap. “Which scars does it affect? The one from humans or the ones from spiritual beings?”

Ichigo blinked, his fingers unconsciously holding onto Grimmjow’s thighs as the blankets pooled around his hips. “Oh. I never really thought about it. I think most of them are scars from battle. Makes sense. They were deeper wounds.”

Grimmjow dropped his hands to rest on the ginger’s stomach as he once again stared at the human, the gears in his head churning. Suddenly his arm jerked forward and stabbed Kurosaki’s ribs with his finger, striking a scar and watching blankly as the boy jolted with a surprised yelp.

“Whoa! What the heck, man!” Ichigo exclaimed in alarm as he tried to push the Arrancar’s hand away.

“What about that one? Does the rain f*ck with it?” Grimmjow asked.

“I don’t know! I don’t keep a record or anything!” Ichigo huffed while he fruitlessly tugged on Grimmjow’s wrist, “Why do you care? And stop poking it like that!”

“It’s one of mine,” Grimmjow stated bluntly.

Ichigo stilled and all signs of annoyance was cleared from his face. “How do you know?”

The Arrancar gave him a disgruntled look. “Nice to know that our battles weren’t memorable enough for you to know which scars I inflicted. I can sense my spiritual pressure in them. It happens all the time when spiritual beings cause wounds. Their spiritual pressure can get trapped inside the scar and leave residue, kinda like an artist marking their handy work, but unintentional. Your body is covered in scars, primarily spirit inflicted, but I can still find mine easy.”

His hands roams over Ichigo’s torso, tapping each scar he created without needing to lift the human’s shirt. “That one. This one. That one and that one, too. All of those smell like Pantera. His scent is far more pungent than the others. Hard for me to miss or mistake.”

“Ah,” Ichigo smiled softly, his eyes distant as they crawled along Grimmjow’s body, “Nah, they don’t really bother me. Orihime healed me at the time and while she hadn’t been able to finish, she got far enough that they healed within a few days.”

Grimmjow hummed in acknowledgment with a light frown set upon his lips. It was annoying that his scars never bothered the bastard. Sure, all the ones given to him by those f*cking Soul Reapers—scars that were older than his—were felt occasionally and remembered, but Grimmjow’s were forgotten. He didn’t know what else he could’ve done to be memorable. He figured beating the sh*t out if him, nearly killing his friends and threatening their lives was more than enough. Maybe he should’ve devoured a few Souls and act like a bitchy know it all to really make an impact.

Then again doing such a thing wasn’t exactly original. Not in Kurosaki’s dramatic world.

“What about you?”

Hot hands brushed across Grimmjow’s thighs and pulled the man back into the present with a frown. “What do you mean what about me?”

Ichigo smiled crookedly as he lifted a hand to prod at the jagged scar across Grimmjow’s torso. “Your scars. Do they bother you?”

Every day. That’s what he wanted to say. It was the truth. For weeks after he gained that scar all he could feel was Kurosaki’s spiritual pressure twisting and writhing inside his body like maggots. After it healed the feeling never faded. He could feel Kurosaki’s power throbbing, surging under his skin as if it were alive. The closest thing to a heartbeat that Grimmjow had ever felt inside himself. It was still like that today. Five years had dulled its power but it was still there. The problem is...the scar didn’t bother him the way Kurosaki was thinking. It wasn’t painful. It was merely...persistent in confirming Ichigo’s existence.

“No. Nnoitra’s did at first but after he died his spiritual pressure nearly vanished. The scars you gave me only ache from time to time but it’s the normal ache scarred muscle and tissue feel,” Grimmjow said with a shrug.

“Scars?” Ichigo frowned, “I thought I only gave you one scar.”

Grimmjow shook his head. “No, you scarred me with one attack, but I have multiple scars from it. You remember how I protected myself, don’t you?”

He pulled back slightly to hold up his arms, showing off the light scarring on the sides of his wrists (one longer than the other) and then tugged down the band of his underwear to flash the scar embedded on his hip and a portion of his thigh that connected to the scar across his torso. “The wound on my head wasn’t deep so it healed just fine, but the others stuck around,” Grimmjow replied as he snapped the band of his underwear back in place.

“Wow,” Ichigo said in wonder, “I never noticed them before. How did I never notice them?”

“Not to call you out or anything, but you’re usually too busy starin’ at my pecs or my dick or my ass or my thighs to notice,” Grimmjow snorted dryly.

“Gee, remind me to never get called out by you,” Ichigo replied sarcastically, his tone ruined by the honest blush on his cheeks.

Grimmjow smiled. It was twisted and sharp, yet honest enough that Ichigo’s glare faltered.

“So...they don’t hurt too badly...do they?” Ichigo asked slowly.

Rough fingers ventured carefully along Grimmjow’s scar, ghosting over the jagged edge as Grimmjow shivered.

“Not really. I can usually touch them just fine. It tickles more than anything. Although sometimes if you get rough it can hurt like a bitch. Follows along with the same concept as my Hollow hole,” Grimmjow shrugged, again.

Ichigo’s eyes sparked with interest. “It’s like your Hollow hole?”

“Yeah, basically. When you touch the edges of my scar, like you are now, it’s like tracing the rim of my Hollow hole. It doesn’t hurt. Just teases the sensitive skin a bit. If you were to scratch my scar with your nails it would be uncomfortable. If you scratch the inside of the hole it would more or less feel like you sawing my body in half with a dull blade. Practically torture,” Grimmjow explained, “I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Sounds like hell,” Ichigo murmured with a distant voice. His hand continued to travel down Grimmjow’s body before coming to a sudden halt low on Grimmjow’s stomach. Directly where the mark of a heartless beast would reside. “What about pleasure?”

Grimmjow tilted his head slightly. “Pleasure? The hell you talking about?”

“Pleasure. Like...can you touch the inside without having it hurt?” Ichigo asked. His thumb continued to stroke the skin above the snug elastic band, occasionally teasing the edge of the Arrancar’s belly button.

“I…,” Grimmjow’s eyes searched Ichigo’s face, “I actually don’t know. I never tried. I just know that touching it usually lead to pain. Not to mention the damn thing aches most of the time since it’s a gaping hole that’s missing a heart ‘n all.”

Ichigo smiled softly as the high winds outside threw rain at the window in harsh waves. His thumb continued to stroke Grimmjow’s skin in a wide circle—the exact circumference of the hole.

“I was just curious. I had one, too, a few times. I wasn’t exactly conscious for them but...I remembered how much it hurt. For my chest to feel so empty...it was torture. Even worse it was frightening. I felt so abandoned and alone...do you live with that feeling every day?”

Those mismatched eyes were looking at him again.

“No. I don’t feel any of that. Never have,” Grimmjow replied.

The ginger smiled, the action strained and sad as his thumb continuously traced the unseen hole. “Ogi says you’re lying.”

Grimmjow snorted as he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of Kurosaki’s head as their lips brushed in a faint kiss. “Tell Ogihci to stuff it.”

It was dangerous for Kurosaki to have a Hollow. It was getting harder to lie.

Chapter 39: These Are The Jokes

Chapter Text

Hollows are cursed creatures. Monsters filled with desires and yearnings that could never be felt or reached. Wanting nothing more than to touch and caress human skin but instead damned to rip and tear it for all eternity.

That’s why Grimmjow hated cravings.

The torture of wanting something he could never have drove him mad. Every time he felt it his flesh, mind, and soul were at war. That itch was self inflicted torture and it played him like a fiddle every damn time.

Of course, that was when he was just a Hollow.

Hollows were the ones bound to eternal suffering. Soul Reapers weren’t. The Hogyoku f*cked with his body and turned him into an abomination. An unholy unity of evil and good, death and life, black and white. Hollow and Soul Reaper. As a Hollow those cravings never disappeared. As a Soul Reaper he could take what he wanted.

His whole life had been dedicated to honing his skills. Tirelessly he trained and fought for his power, but after gaining the new form from the Hogyoku...things changed. Cravings for human flesh plagued his mind on an endless loop and it wasn’t for the usual reasons. He pacified those needs occasionally with the help of two of his Fracción—two Arrancar that seemed to struggle with desire as much as he did. It never seemed to be enough. It never was. No matter how many times he fed he never felt full. That was the fate of a Hollow.

This time it was worse than before. He had the cravings of a Hollow. He had the means of a Soul Reaper. He didn’t have an outlet.

He had done so well before. Swallowing every itch even if it choked him. Refusing to be distracted. Eyes staring straight ahead. Now his eyes wandered and his gaze was aimed right at Kurosaki. He still wanted to destroy that brat and his power, but now, deep in the underbelly of revenge and hatred was a thin film of desire he was never supposed to feel. Least of all toward his own enemy. He wanted to blame Kurosaki for making him feel this way, but honestly he should’ve expected this.

He had never been able to take his eyes off Kurosaki.

It didn’t matter what he was doing, he just couldn’t stop watching him. Not when the boy cooks, dancing around the kitchen with a faint smile on his face and a hum in his throat. Not when the boy slept, curled against Grimmjow’s side as if he was more comfortable than the mattress itself. Not when the boy was doing homework, tongue peeking out between his lips as he gave the burning laptop his undivided attention. Not when they trained, sweat dripping down the boy’s skin as he smirked, glowing with confidence. Not when they watch movies together, Kurosaki laughing at something Grimmjow hadn’t even been paying attention to, far too focused on the human’s arm or thigh pressed against his. Not when they kissed...when Ichigo clung to him like he was his source of life and pulled on his shirt, kissing back with intense ferocity as if to show how much he wanted the Arrancar...how much he wanted Grimmjow.

Kurosaki had ruined his plan. They were supposed to battle. Give it their all and destroy one another. Yet all Grimmjow could think about is how Ichigo would look under him. How sweet his voice would be as he moaned in his ear. How amazing those black nails would feel scratching down his back as he screamed his name. How those brown and gold eyes would stare right into his with that frustrating and complex gaze Grimmjow still didn’t understand but was always thrilled to see. He wanted to see Kurosaki completely at his mercy and loving it. Hell, he knew the boy would. Contradicting what people thought, Grimmjow wasn’t an idiot and he wasn’t oblivious. He saw the way Kurosaki watched him when the ginger thought he wasn’t looking. It was ridiculously obvious that Kurosaki liked his body. In fact it was impossible to go to bed without having the human touch him in some form; which was incredibly flattering but he’d never admit that. Just the other day when Grimmjow had come from a fresh shower one would’ve thought Kurosaki had seen a god by the look on his face. It was amusing since the boy had seen him in nothing but a towel a billion times before, but after their distractions he couldn’t help but openly gawk. The boy still blushed and stammered like he was religious, which Grimmjow was positive he wasn’t judging by the sh*t he did during said distractions and the alarming amount of curses that fell from those pink lips. Which was a good thing because Grimmjow didn’t want either to stop.

Constantly thinking about the brat was getting pretty tiresome, though. It was impossible to clear his head. He really needed to get the kid out of his system.

Grimmjow shook his head violently, water leaping from his soaked blue hair. No way. He was not going to cross that line. It was bad enough that they were doing what they were doing. He was not going to bring sex into the mix. That would seriously only make things worse.

Although these ice cold showers were getting annoying and uncomfortable.

With a frustrated growl he shut off the shower with a smash of his fist and shook his head again until he was dizzy. He had to get those thoughts out of his head. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to make the world stop spinning he pushed aside the shower curtain and eased himself out of the tub. The thin shower rug did nothing to warm his body as he dug through the cabinet over the toilet for a towel, only to return empty handed. The gods had to be sh*tting him. More accurately, sh*tting on his whole existence. He was not about to walk around in front of Kurosaki without a towel. He himself didn’t give a sh*t about nudity in general but with his recent train of thoughts and the way Kurosaki reacted to seeing his body he really didn’t want to push his luck. With a sigh he searched through the cabinet again and then moved to the cabinets under the sink. All he could find was a hand towel which—not to brag—barely covered his junk. This was not going to work.

Dragging a hand down his face the Arrancar groaned at his misfortune. He had the choice of either running for his life to the bedroom and pray that Kurosaki wouldn’t see him, or ask Kurosaki for help. The second one was honestly less embarrassing and didn’t make him look like an idiot.

“f*ck me,” Grimmjow grumbled. With the tiny, useless towel in hand he reached out for the doorknob and pulled the door open.

He wasn’t expecting a person to be attached to it.

“Ah!” Ichigo gasped as his body fell forward, his hand tightening on the doorknob by reflex. He managed catch his footing at the last second and stopped his fall, making the human sigh in relief as he released the doorknob and lifted his gaze—only to come face to face with Grimmjow’s naked chest.

Well, so much for that plan, too.

With a shocked squeak Ichigo jumped back, spine straightening as he clutched a towel to his chest while a crimson blush devoured his cheeks. “S-s-sorry, Grimmjow. I just remembered that I didn’t...I didn’t…,” Ichigo’s words trailed off as his eyes slowly slipped down the Arrancar’s body and froze, openly ogling at the prize between pale thighs and gulped, “I, ah, forgot to put clean towels in the bathroom.”

This wasn’t the first time Kurosaki saw it, so why was he staring like that?

Grimmjow blinked when it finally clicked. Everything they had done up to this point, every lewd action they took against one another, they had done at night. In the dark. Grimmjow could see everything almost as clearly as he could during the day. Kurosaki hadn’t been blessed with the same vision he had. Overcome with a sudden surge of quiet shyness, Grimmjow slowly lowered the pathetically small towel in a futile attempt to cover himself. He seriously wasn’t boasting when he thought the towel was too small to cover his junk. He really hated being right, sometimes.

The view pathetically blocked, Ichigo’s eyes jumped back to Grimmjow’s face and his blush tripled. “S-s-sorry. I shouldn’t have stared like that. H-here’s a towel for you,” Ichigo stammered as he turned his head and held out the towel.

Grimmjow eagerly grabbed for the towel to hide his shame but suddenly stopped as his fingers brushed the cotton surface. Kurosaki was trying his hardest to keep himself from looking at the Arrancar. Grimmjow could tell that he was biting the side of his cheek to keep his imagination at bay. He was rubbing his thighs together, too, and squeezing them, and Grimmjow could see why. It was faint, but thanks to Kurosaki’s ridiculously tight jeans he could see how the boy was reacting to his body. He was hard, and the problem was only getting worse. He really affected Kurosaki that much?

He took the towel from Ichigo slowly, gears turning at amazing speeds as he ran through the options and the results each one had. There was a fifty-fifty chance he would crash and burn...but that’s practically how he lived his life anyways. The odds could go either way and that was a chance he was willing to take. He tossed the hand towel aside and unfolded the bath towel—only to bunch up the material and drape it around his neck with a snort.

“You act like you haven’t seen a naked man before, Kurosaki. You know what a dick looks like. For f*ck’s sake you have one,” Grimmjow scoffed.

Ichigo continued to blush as he gave the Arrancar and embarrassed glare. “It’s normal to be flustered at the sight of a naked body!” he argued.

“You sayin’ my body flusters you, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow teased with a smirk. Despite his confident mask his artificial heart was hammering away in his chest. He should just cover himself up and get out of there as quickly as possible. What was he doing teasing Kurosaki? What was he, a child?

“I would have to be blind to not be flustered!” Ichigo snapped.

Grimmjow’s blue eyes twinkled with amusem*nt as he leaned in, his close proximity causing Ichigo to take a step back. “Oh? Like what’cha see, Kurosaki?”

The way Ichigo’s eye twitched in irritation reminded Grimmjow exactly why he chose to tease him. His reactions were golden. “You know damn well I like what I see! Don’t be a jackass!”

“And what kind of ass would you prefer me to be?” Grimmjow asked.

“One that wears clothes!” Ichigo shrieked.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who busts into bathrooms without knocking,” Grimmjow said as he pulled back with a shrug, “But if you ask me it doesn’t seem like you’re suffering.”

His jaw motioned for Kurosaki to look down and the boy blushed as he tugged his shirt down lower to hide the slight bulge in his jeans. Like that would help. His shirts were almost too small for him to wear in the first place.

“I-it’s not like I can help that. If I see something that arouses me of course I’m going to get an erection. That’s the whole reason for having a libido. Well, that and sexual reproduction,” Ichigo’s glare burned brighter, “But don’t flatter yourself, Grimmjow. Men can get erections from a lot of things, even fear.”

“I doubt you got hard because you’re terrified of my dick, Kurosaki. It’s not that big,” Grimmjow retorted with a smug grin.

“Of course not. I had that thing in my mouth and I didn’t break a sweat. You’re not the first dick I’ve had in my throat, Jaegerjaquez, and you’re certainly not the biggest,” Ichigo bit back.

Now it was Grimmjow’s turn to blush. The knowledge of Kurosaki’s experience honestly shouldn’t be such a turn on for him. Of course he shouldn’t be visualizing the bastard on his knees, eagerly blowing multiple dudes at once either, but here he is, thinking of just that. In his defense Grimmjow seriously doubted he was the first and only guy who’s thought of Kurosaki in that position.

“Why are you blushing? I thought you’d be pissed at me for saying that you weren’t the biggest I’ve seen,” Ichigo huffed, annoyed that his insult didn’t have enough kick to it.

Grimmjow’s blush faded as he blinked at Ichigo’s pouting face. Cute. The smirk returned to his lips as Grimmjow held the ends of the towel around his neck and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, tilting his hips in a flattering manner.

“A big dick is a big dick Kurosaki. Gonna feel good either way. Being too big is a problem, though, so actually what you said is a compliment,” Grimmjow shrugged, “And seeing is different from feeling.”

“We were talking about blowj*bs, feeling was implied,” Ichigo growled.

That anger shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Seriously what was wrong with him? Grimmjow never found anger to be attractive before, least of all when it was directed at him, but Kurosaki erased everything he knew about himself. Maybe it was the way Kurosaki stood up for himself? Or the promise of violence when he clenched his fists? The fire in his eyes was wonderful, too. He got rough when he was moody, which was a big contrast to his usual gentle and kind self. Was it a combination of the four? He’ll never know. All he knew is that he wanted to see how many buttons he could push before the kid snapped.

“That wasn’t the hole I was referrin’ to, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow replied with a straight face. He had to have been an actor in his past life because underneath his calm composure every vein in his body was taking massive abuse from his rapidly beating heart. He had stepped way over the line. It was a joke. Something he didn’t mean, just something to make Kurosaki flail and scramble. At least that’s what he told himself.

Kurosaki’s blush slipped down to his neck and his mouth fell open. His jaw moved to speak but his lips and tongue were paralyzed. A deer caught in headlights. A bird trapped in a cage. A rabbit under a fox’s paw.

“Oh-ho-ho, and the truth comes out,” Grimmjow snickered, bravely deciding to speak, “Kurosaki’s never been with a real man.”

“I-I have so!” Ichigo sputtered, taking an angry step forward, “I’m not a virgin, Grimmjow! I’ve been with guys before!”

Grimmjow snickered as he reached out and took hold of Ichigo’s chin, yanking him forward until their noses nearly touched.

“I said you haven’t been with a real man, not that you haven’t been with a man,” he corrected.

The rage tearing through Ichigo’s eyes shouldn’t be as thrilling as it was. Being pinned by that gaze was like having a sword placed at his throat and f*ck if he didn’t love it. The frustration and anger made Kurosaki almost animalistic—almost like a Hollow. It was sick. It was twisted. It was beautiful. This was the real Kurosaki. f*ck those fake smiles the boy wore. He wanted to see that snarling anger under the mask.

“If you’re so concerned about me getting f*cked by a big dick then why don’t you do something about it?” Ichigo spat with a harsh jab to Grimmjow’s chest.

Their whole world came to a sudden halt. The anger in Kurosaki’s body drained as he was overwhelmed with embarrassment. The blush on his face extended beyond his shoulders and disappeared under the collar of his shirt while his eyes struggled to meet Grimmjow’s piercing gaze. If he didn’t have such good hearing Grimmjow would’ve thought he misheard what Kurosaki said. There was no way he could confuse those words with anything else. Was that a legitimate invitation? Had he meant what he said, or was he just trying to win a battle in a verbal war?

Ichigo slowly withdrew his hand and cradled it to his chest as he chewed his lip nervously. “Um, I think...I think I should go back to studying. I have a quiz tomorrow and the teacher takes his job way too seriously so I need to know the material.”

When Ichigo took another step backwards Grimmjow snatched the front of his shirt and yanked him back into place. “Why’re you running away, Kurosaki?”

The ginger bristled at their close proximity and dropped his head, refusing to meet Grimmjow’s eyes as he tried to hide his blush. Apparently Kurosaki quickly realized the flaw in his plan and jerked his head back up, looking traumatized from seeing Grimmjow’s business in clear view once again. Ichigo turned his head away to avoid the Arrancar’s eyes, the tendons in his throat stretching so far that Grimmjow feared that long neck of his was going to snap just to get an eyeful of the empty couch.

He was embarrassed and flustered all because he saw Grimmjow naked—and practically confessed that he wanted Grimmjow to f*ck his I’m-a-selfless-good-boy ass. Why Kurosaki would be embarrassed about that Grimmjow had no clue. Considering what they had done to each other he would’ve figured not much else would make Ichigo blush. Then again the human was a bit of a prude with a freaky side.

He was so f*cking cute.

“Ku—ro—sa—ki,” Grimmjow drawled with a needling note in his voice, dragging out each syllable of the boy’s name as he smiled, “Answer me.”

The muscles on Kurosaki’s jaw rolled under sunkissed skin, orange bangs shielding soft brown eyes. “Grimmjow, that’s enough. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Aw, c’mon, Kurosaki. Don’t be such a wet blanket,” Grimmjow purred as he pulled the human closer.

He held back a shiver when he felt the long, loose sleeve of Ichigo’s shirt brushing the naked skin on his chest. The soft fabric teasing the old scar with too quick kisses. There was something about one person being fully dressed while the other is naked that caused a low burning fire to crawl under Grimmjow’s skin. He had noticed it the first night they shared the bed. Grimmjow had stripped down to his underwear without thought and laid beside a fully dressed Kurosaki and immediately the room filled with an unintentional air of sexual desire that smelled so sweet and begged for him to dig into the delicious dish laying beside him. If he had no self control and didn’t know Kurosaki on a personal and enemy level the Arrancar wouldn’t have had any problems f*cking the masterpiece beside him. Hell, Grimmjow would’ve taken every opportunity possible to put his dick in the human, even if it meant f*cking in public. However he doubted Kurosaki would ever want to do something as risky and inappropriate as that. No matter how goddamn sexy it sounded. The Arrancar licked his lips at the thought. It was an amazing image, though.

“Grimmjow, drop it.”

“Don’t be a chicken, Kurosaki. S’not like I’m gonna mock you for being a slu*t. I’m just as bad as you are,” Grimmjow snickered. He tugged Ichigo forward again until the human’s whole forearm was held against the scar running across his torso. Their hips were mere inches apart and he oh so badly wanted to make them touch. Grimmjow parted his lips as he leaned in and inhaled deeply. f*ck Kurosaki smelled so damn good. He could practically taste the boy’s skin on his tongue. The need to do just that—to drag his tongue across tanned flesh—flooded his mouth with ravenous drool. No matter how many times he tasted it his tongue could never get sick of that flavor. He doubted anyone could. Kurosaki was lucky he had control over his urges. Otherwise Grimmjow would have devoured the human long ago—and not in the desired sexual sense. Grimmjow parted his lips and with another deep inhale he allowed Kurosaki’s scent to ghost over his sensitive tongue and groaned. This was so goddamn dangerous but f*ck so far it was worth it.

“Grimmjow...please just let me go. This isn’t funny,” Ichigo whispered, his voice tight with mixed emotions.

Grimmjow stared at Ichigo in surprise. That was...odd.

“What’s wrong with you?” Grimmjow asked, tilting his head and craning his neck in an attempt to see the boy’s face.

He watched as Ichigo’s shoulders tightened when he winced. He hadn’t realized that the human wasn’t breathing until he released a soft sigh and turned his gaze up to the Arrancar. Grimmjow swallowed dryly at the sight of those eyes. They were muddy and dull, trying their hardest to hide his true feelings but unable to snuff the overwhelming gleam of hurt. What the hell? Ichigo had never looked at him that way before—not since their battle when he tried to convince Grimmjow to drop his blade.

“Kurosaki, what’s goin’ on?” Grimmjow demanded, his tone firmer in a silent demand for a truthful answer.

Sunkissed fingers circled his pale wrist, a thumb brushing the faint scar left from Zangetsu’s fiery wrath in an attempt to make Grimmjow release him as his eyes lowered onto the scar at the juncture between the Arrancar’s neck and shoulder. Grimmjow tightened his firm grip.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it, Grimmjow. It’s not like you’d want to talk about it anyways,” Ichigo muttered.

His black nails scratched the Arrancar’s pale skin. The angry red lines went unnoticed.

“The f*ck do you think I’m askin’ you what’s wrong for? Fun?” Grimmjow snorted in irritation.

Black nails sliced deep into his skin, dark crescents appearing under Kurosaki’s fingertips.

“Grimmjow-.”

“Spit it out, Kurosaki. What’s pissing you off? I’ve told you to stop hiding that sh*t,” Grimmjow barked.

He almost thought Ichigo was going to refuse to speak.

That is, until a dark scowl blossomed upon his brow.

“...Fine. You really wanna know why I’m upset? I’m pissed off because you can make jokes about us being together but I can’t,” Ichigo met his eyes, anger and frustration a brief flash in his irises, but only managed to hold his gaze for a second before his head dropped in shame, “Our distractions...they’ve been beyond amazing but...I’ve been wanting...more.”

Grimmjow’s brows furrowed. More? He wanted more? The hell did that mean? They’ve kissed. They’ve jerked off. Kurosaki blew him. Grimmjow called him by his first name. The brat wanted more? All that was left was—

Grimmjow’s heart stuttered.

Oh.

Oh f*ck.

“You keep teasing me about going further because it’s a joke to you, but for me it isn’t. I...I really want to...do that with you. But...I mean, I know you don’t. I understand that and I know the reasons why. I’m your enemy and these distractions are just that, distractions, and I’m not supposed to want something...that major to happen between us. As irritating and frustrating as it is...it makes sense,” Ichigo loosened Grimmjow’s fingers from his shirt one by one, “I get it. I just...I can’t stand hearing you laugh at the thought of us getting together. It hurts and I know it shouldn’t. I can’t...I don’t find it as funny or impossible as you do.”

He got it? What the f*ck did that mean? What the hell was he even talking about? Was he being serious?

“What the f*ck are you talking about?” Grimmjow asked with a scowl.

The muscles in Ichigo’s jaw flexed as he lifted his gaze once more, his mismatched eyes torn between determined anger and hurt. “You kept treating it like a joke. You and me together...why? Would it really be that bad for you?”

This definitely wasn’t a joke.

Grimmjow gulped but found it impossible to swallow as Ichigo dropped his eyes again.

Kurosaki wanted to have sex. Not a distraction. Not a joke. Actual sex.

Grimmjow’s brain was so fried from the confession that he couldn’t even form a response.

How did he want to respond?

He could hear Pantera screaming at him from inside. Chanting and bellowing “enemies, enemies, enemies” over and over again like a crazed wild animal with drool dripping from its fangs. But his heart—the artificial heart that wasn’t even his...it was saying something completely different.

“I see,” Ichigo said as he unfurled the last finger from his shirt and pushed Grimmjow’s hand away.

The Arrancar jumped, being pulled from his thoughts, and immediately tried to grab Ichigo’s shirt again. He had this all wrong.

“Kurosaki, I—.”

“Please, let's not talk about it,” Ichigo said as he took a step back, eyes glued to the floor and a deep scowl carved upon his gentle face, “I know you don’t want to go that far. I get it. I really do. I’m not going to pressure you into anything. I’m not gonna ask for you to do any more than what we’ve been doing. I don’t want to be that type of guy. You’ve had enough selfish partners as it is.”

Grimmjow scowled. “Kurosaki, you’re not listeni—.”

“You don’t want me.”

Grimmjow’s breath hitched. Those four words hung between them like a deadly sword when Ichigo met blue eyes. A sparkling smile made of cheap plastic diamonds marred Ichigo’s beautiful face as he took a few cautious steps back.

“It’s okay. Really. I get it. You don’t want me and I respect that. You’re an Arrancar and I’m a human...it would be impossible.”

Grimmjow was stunned.

He didn’t want Kurosaki?

What the f*ck?

Grimmjow felt his eyelid twitch. He has never been so goddamned pissed off in his entire life. Who the f*ck did this brat think he was? Kurosaki doesn’t know sh*t. He made assumptions! Of course the Grimmjow in his mind didn’t want him—Kurosaki, the f*cking clinically depressed little asshole, was the one fueling those dumbass misconceptions. Grimmjow grit his teeth until they ached. That bastard. Laughing at the thought of them together? Like a joke? Since when? He didn’t think of that stuff as a joke either! Something that serious couldn’t be! Sex with Kurosaki definitely wasn’t funny nor was it impossible—completely improbable—but not impossible.

Goddamnit.

This is why he f*cking hated it when people acted like they understood him.

Kurosaki was such a dumbass. A pitiful, insecure little dumbass. Grimmjow f*cking hated him. Not Kurosaki—at least not at the moment—but the whiny little bitch he turned into when he felt like he wasn’t enough. Nothing about Kurosaki made anyone feel short changed. It was that goddamn ugly depression poisoning his mind. If Grimmjow could rip it from his skull he would. Unfortunately he had to settle for an alternate route.

With an enraged snarl Grimmjow threw down his towel and balled his fists. “Take one more f*cking step away from me and I’ll shatter your f*cking jaw, Kurosaki. We aren’t done talking yet you f*ckin’ asshole,” Grimmjow hissed.

Ichigo’s muscles froze and the smile was washed away by an angry scowl, immediately ditching his happy mask. “Drop it, Jaegerjaquez. I already told you I get it. You don’t want sex so we won’t have sex. I never demanded that from you.”

“Let me correct myself, I’m not done talking. You are. Shut your f*cking mouth for once so I can get a goddamn word in you f*cking idiot! You just had that whole damn conversation by yourself!” Grimmjow snapped.

“Because I knew how you were going to respond! I could see it on your face!” Ichigo shouted.

“You don’t f*ckin’ know me, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled as he approached the boy, body burning with rage.

“No offense but you’re not exactly a complicated guy,” Ichigo sneered.

A frightening snarl tore through Grimmjow’s throat as he pressed his hand to the boy’s chest and slammed Ichigo’s back against the wall. Ichigo hissed in pain, his eyes glowing with fearsome bloodlust as his fingers curled into deadly fists, but Grimmjow didn’t have time to deal with this dramatic bullsh*t. So before Ichigo could even attempt to strike him Grimmjow hooked his fingers onto a pink shirt and without hesitation he pulled the unfairly attractive and extremely stupid human right into his arms, and with every inch of his naked body against Kurosaki—his enemy—he kissed him. A simple kiss that screamed nothing but lust and desire. A simple kiss that rendered Ichigo speechless as Grimmjow pushed his tongue inside his mouth, moaning at the human’s taste. A simple kiss that caused Ichigo’s muscles to melt and body shake, struggling to press himself closer to the Arrancar as his knees buckled.

It was just a kiss.

And it was just sex.

That’s all it was.

Their kiss broke with a shared gasp. A disgusting, sparkling line of saliva connecting their lips as Grimmjow pressed his forehead against Kurosaki’s and peered deep into his wide eyes.

“You gotta let me f*cking talk before you jump to sh*tty conclusions,” Grimmjow huffed.

Ichigo parted his lips as if to speak, but not a single syllable could be formed. It was beyond cute and highly amusing—even going so far as to bring a slight smile to Grimmjow’s lips. Large, pale hands carefully framed Ichigo’s face, his fingers taking in every soft expanse of those freckled cheeks as Grimmjow breathed him in. Kurosaki’s scent was purely sinful. So sweet yet overflowing with biting spices—teasing the Arrancar until he was driven mad. f*ck. Ichigo was intoxicating. There was nothing else too it. His scent. His power. His personality and his looks...all of it drew Grimmjow in. It wasn’t a trap. He knew that now. But hell, even if it was he wouldn’t care. Not anymore. This time he wanted to be captured. He needed to be ensnared.

“You think I don’t want you? That the thought of us f*cking until the neighbors complain about the noise is a joke to me?” Grimmjow’s fingers slipped into Ichigo’s hair and pulled, tilting the boy’s head one way as he tilted his the other, breathing on delicious plump pink lips, “Now that is a sh*tty joke.”

He crushed their lips in a passionate kiss once again. Trying with every drop of his shattered and broken soul to memorize the feel of those soft, firm lips against his. Groaning as his teeth sank into a pouting bottom lip. Tongue tasting and searching every inch of the human’s mouth as if Grimmjow had never done so before. Moaning when Ichigo kissed back.

Fingers clawed at his waist, struggling to hold on as Ichigo’s knees continued to buckle. There was only one way to fix that problem. Slowly Grimmjow pulled Ichigo away from the wall and moved him back step by step toward the bedroom door. There was no way the couch could even dream of surviving the strain of what they were about to do. Without interrupting their kiss Grimmjow grabbed the doorknob behind Ichigo and wretched the door open and guided them inside, his hands once again framing the boy’s face as sunkissed hands sparked wildfires across his skin. There was nothing stopping Kurosaki from touching what he wanted. All barriers were dropped and everything was free game. Grimmjow was actually rather excited to see what Ichigo would do with such freedom. There were things he expected. A thumb brushing his nipple. Nails scratching his abs. Warm, calloused hands taking hold of his ass and squeezing—Grimmjow moaned and fought the instinct to pull from their heated kiss. No one had touched him there before. He hadn’t even known if he liked to be touched there. Once again Pantera was screeching warnings, but the Gigai was screaming something else entirely.

It was embarrassing that his ass was as sensitive as his spine...although it made sense.

An excited growl ruptured in Grimmjow’s throat as he took Ichigo by the shoulders and shoved him down to sit on the edge of the bed, shattering their kiss once again. Brown eyes connected with his awakening member and Grimmjow shivered at the hunger burning in those honey drizzled depths, choking on a groan as Kurosaki’s pink tongue licked his lips. He would love nothing more than to have Ichigo’s talented mouth on his co*ck, but he literally wouldn’t be able to reach the main event if he chose that route.

Pale fingers carded through orange locks and forced Ichigo to switch his gaze to the Arrancar. “I’m f*cking you, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled huskily.

A smirk curled Ichigo’s lips. “That works too.”

He should be pissed at Kurosaki for thinking there was a chance he was going to dominate Grimmjow. The idea was completely ludicrous. Completely improbable...but not exactly impossible. Normally he would laugh at the thought of anyone pinning him underneath their body and having their way with him. But...if there was anyone in the four worlds who could do it, there was no doubt in his mind that it was Ichigo. His blue eyes raked over Ichigo’s body and he shivered. Yeah. Kurosaki could totally do it. Grimmjow wasn’t ever going to give him that chance, though. It was way too vulnerable of a position to be in. He couldn’t even trust Kurosaki with that kind of power.

“You’re weird, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow murmured as he leaned in for another kiss.

“It’s Ichigo,” he whispered back.

Their kiss was slower this time. It was careful, allowing Ichigo to hold Grimmjow’s face between his warm hands as the Arrancar’s large palms slipped down his shoulders. Pale fingers brushed over the soft material of Ichigo’s pink shirt, silently admiring the body he felt below. Firm chest. Spectacular muscle. Small waist. Many, many scars. A true masterpiece. The body of a warrior. The body of a protector.

Grimmjow’s fingers tugged on the soft hem of his shirt and started to lift it. Ichigo hummed into their kiss, his teeth biting the Arrancar’s pale lip as cold fingers brushed over the vast collection of scars and muscles on his stomach. Grimmjow expected their movements to be uncoordinated. Undressing himself was different from undressing someone else after all, and seeing how Grimmjow had never done it before he anticipated for the shirt to get caught on Ichigo’s arms or stuck on his neck. Neither happened. As if they had practiced it a thousand times before they moved in unison and pulled the shirt free, wild orange hair spilling around Ichigo’s shoulders in an angelic glow. Despite himself Grimmjow’s breath hitched as the shirt fell from his hand to the floor.

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had seen Ichigo in plain view without a shirt. He recognized the scars on his stomach and the rippling muscle beneath, and to a degree the multiple scars on his shoulders. He also recognized a few scars that carried the scent of Pantera’s teeth. He didn’t, however, recognize the scar in the center of his chest. A scar that had been created by the same sword that stabbed his stomach long ago. Nor did he recognize the sizable tattoo resting on Ichigo’s left pectoral. Grimmjow had completely forgotten that he had one. It had been so long ago since he caught that glance and Kurosaki was always so modest. He never left the bathroom after a shower without a robe (which, by the way, was rather short and highly appreciated) so Grimmjow had never had the chance to see the tattoo in clear view. Now he could see it all. A black shield consumed the left of his chest, the natural color of Ichigo’s skin being used to provide gothic designs and flourishes to the metal surface—that Grimmjow suddenly realized were chains, the same chains that had resided on Kurosaki’s bankai. Stamped amidst the chains on the bottom of the shield was a familiar symbol. One that boasted power. Literally. Grimmjow would recognize the guard of Tensa Zangetsu anywhere. The most eye catching feature of all, however, was the dramatic blood red kanji in the center of the shield boldly stating, “Forever Protect”. Being a Soul Reaper really did mean everything to Ichigo. It was practically his goddamn identity. Those powers are where his self worth lied.

“I know you don’t want me.”

Who wouldn’t want him?

“Uh, Grimm? You okay?” Ichigo asked curiously as he searched light blue irises.

Grimmjow met his mismatched eyes and snorted, wiping all expression from his face to make himself unreadable. “You’re a walking cliché, y’know that Kurosaki?” he asked.

A look of confusion and slight irritation settled on the human’s face. “Wow. You really haven’t done this much have you? In this type of situation people don’t really mock or degrade each other,” a thoughtful pause caused Ichigo to blink, “Okay, some people actually do want that, but that’s a little heavy for a first time and you really should only do that with a partner you trust fully and have discussed it beforehand.”

What kind of nonsense was Kurosaki babbling about? He honestly wasn’t paying attention. He was too distracted by the light bouncing off those black snakebite piercings and the way muscles shifted under inked skin to listen to a word Kurosaki said. It didn’t matter anyways. Unless Kurosaki was saying no or stop, there weren’t any reasons to listen to anything but the human’s moans.

He never wanted anything more.

“Grimm? Seriously man, are you okay? You keep spacing ou—mffff!”

Grimmjow initiated another kiss as his hands began to roam over Ichigo’s naked torso. There were so many scars. So much more than he had anticipated. Each one was different from another. Long and short. Raised and carved. Smooth and rough. Old and new. Pink and white. Each one different yet the same. A perfect balance. For far too long Kurosaki had thought of himself as a freak because he didn’t belong to a single category. He wasn’t a human or a Soul Reaper, Hollow, or Quincy—he was all four. The perfect mixture of all living things. A man whose blood connects with all realms. Grimmjow inhaled deeply when their kiss broke for air, drawing in Kurosaki’s musk. He could smell it. The human scent was overpowering now, but the Arrancar could still find traces of his old self. Could taste it on his tongue. The sweetness and life of a human. The righteousness and sacrifice of a Soul Reaper. The bitter and dark stain of a Hollow. The sour and lonely taste of a Quincy. All were different yet the same. They all made Kurosaki who he was. Grimmjow couldn’t get enough of it.

Grimmjow’s fingers ghosted over Ichigo’s sensitive sides, the boy responding with a shiver and breathless gasp. Goosebumps built under the his fingertips, adding an uneven and dramatic contrast to Ichigo’s usual velvety skin. A sly grin stretched Grimmjow’s lips as white teeth nipped at his tongue. It was nice to know he affected Kurosaki the same way the brat affected him. Ichigo’s breath rolled over Grimmjow’s tongue and the Arrancar held back a shiver of his own. Okay, maybe he didn’t affect Kurosaki in all the same ways. Where Ichigo wanted to bite his flesh with lust, Grimmjow wanted to rip it free from his beautiful body. Those primal urges—the ones that begged for Grimmjow to tear skin from Ichigo’s body and crush bones between his teeth—would probably never disappear. At least he could manage it. Somewhat. Kurosaki was still healing from the bite on his throat. He brushed his fingers over the deep indentations and savored the responding gasp. It wasn’t like Kurosaki hated it either. In fact he seemed to like how rough Grimmjow was. That was something they had in common. Neither of them liked to be pushed around, but they despised being treated like they were made of glass.

Manhandled but not abused.

Speaking of which...

Large hands engulfed Ichigo’s chest and shoved him, splitting their kiss and forcing Ichigo onto his back with a violent bounce of resistance from the mattress. Ichigo parted his lips to speak, but the words died on his tongue as those big hands continued to hold him down on the thick mattress. His long legs were pushed apart by a strong knee as soul piercing light blue irises stared deep into his eyes, the irises and their resolve unwavering. Ichigo gulped, his fingers twitching with need to touch the Arrancar as he held himself back and his eyes flooded with lust. Grimmjow loved that look in his eyes.

He didn’t like the lack of warm hands on his body.

Grimmjow lowered himself slowly, placing his forearm beside Ichigo’s head as his fingers tangled in orange hair. With a small twitch of muscle he pulled on the orange locks, tilting the human’s head back to expose his throat. His other hand slowly traveled down Kurosaki’s body, counting scars along the way as he pressed their bodies together. The flames living in Kurosaki’s skin seeped into Grimmjow’s body and pushed away the ice in his muscles, making him shiver. Pressing closer to chase that warmth, Grimmjow’s hand continued its journey and only stopped when he started to palm the front of Kurosaki’s jeans, the cold zipper stinging his skin.

“I don’t remember tellin’ you to stop touchin’ me, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow murmured, teeth scraping a strong jaw.

Ichigo’s breath hitched, chewing the inside of his cheek as he bucked into Grimmjow’s hand with a groan. “S-sorry. I didn’t...I couldn’t think while you were looking at me like that.”

Grimmjow didn’t even have to look up to know that the human was blushing. He did so anyways and eagerly drank in the sight. Eyes full of lust. Teeth embedded deep in a plump bottom lip. Dark blush illuminating his freckles like stars. How could that bastard think that Grimmjow didn’t want him?

“Like what?” Grimmjow asked.

Ichigo’s face grew darker. “Like...like you want to devour every part of me.”

A smirk grazed Grimmjow’s lips. “Well, it’s not exactly off the mark,” he admitted.

The Arrancar nipped along Ichigo’s jaw and then traced the sharp edge with his tongue, tasting Kurosaki once again. He couldn’t get tired of his flavor. He could only imagine how Kurosaki’s taste would maximize during sex. The sweat on his skin would be an unbelievable burst of flavor on his tongue. The blood from a split lip sizzling on his tastebuds. The bitterness of Kurosaki’s cum coating the walls of his mouth and flooding his throat, causing him to choke while struggling to swallow every last thick drop. He wanted it all.

He was the first person to make him want it all.

Grimmjow pressed his nose deep into Ichigo’s neck and filled his lungs while fighting back a groan. Why did he have to smell so goddamn fantastic?

With a groan Ichigo tilted his head further and exposed more of his throat to the Arrancar, bucking against a large frozen hand. Taking the hint, Grimmjow continued to grind his palm against Ichigo’s erection while his lips, teeth, and tongue assaulted a sunkissed neck.

“You thought about this before, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow murmured against his skin. His teeth grazed lower. Sharp incisors scraping supple skin at the juncture between neck and shoulder.

“Wh-what?” Ichigo stammered. His blush seeped down and consumed his freckled shoulders as a wet tongue dragged slowly across his clavicle.

“This,” Grimmjow emphasized his meaning by squeezing the large tent under his hands, smirking against Ichigo’s chest as he moaned, “You thought about it before?”

Ichigo gulped as his blush burned Grimmjow’s lips. The Arrancar smirked deviously but refrained from speaking as he continued to kiss down the human’s chest, occasionally allowing his hungry teeth to nip at the vivid tattoo. The skin was so soft against his tongue and gave so easily under his teeth. The instinct to tear into sunkissed flesh and devour every delicious morsel was overwhelming, but he was able to hold back. He had done a lot of sh*tty things in his life but there wasn’t a single muscle nor bone in his body willing to destroy such beautiful art. Grimmjow had never really thought about tattoos (seeing how he had no free time to do so and his skin was impenetrable to needles), however there was no denying that what rested upon Kurosaki’s chest wasn’t some mere tattoo. It was a masterpiece. A shrine built for the might of an unstoppable man. The elaborate mark held as much power as a crown did. Grimmjow couldn’t help but respect it.

“Um, you remember the night...the night I was having that, um, dream and you woke me up because…,” the words wouldn’t escape Kurosaki’s throat. Whether it was from embarrassment of admittance or from the way Grimmjow’s mouth lead a wet, bitten trail down his pec to his nipple didn’t matter.

Grimmjow decided to be nice enough to help him out. “Because you were moaning and humping the bed like a needy bitch in heat?”

That blush was beautiful. Although Grimmjow didn’t know how there was any blood left over to power a blush while Kurosaki’s erection was trying its hardest to burst from his jeans.

“Y-yeah. I guess,” Ichigo coughed, “Um, the dream I was having was, ah, kinda about you.”

An excited thrill shot through Grimmjow’s body. That had to be the best damn thing his ears had ever heard. Aside from Kurosaki’s moans, of course.

“Only kinda? What, was I just standing in the background?” Grimmjow teased.

“N-no. Definitely not that,” Ichigo chewed his lip nervously before he relented with a sigh, “You...you were in it a lot. You were kinda the focus.”

Music to his damn ears, he swears it.

“And what was I doing?” Grimmjow asked in a low purr.

His thumb brushed over the brass button on Ichigo’s jeans and popped it loose while his tongue traced the red kanji of his tattoo. He heard Ichigo’s breath hitch and smirked to himself, letting himself drool on tanned skin as he took hold of the zipper and tugged it down tooth by tooth.

It was time to get a little revenge.

“You were—.”

Ichigo swallowed dryly as pale fingers hooked on the band of his jeans and pulled them down slowly. Completely distracted from the sensation of the Arrancar’s lips on the move.

“You had—.”

Tanned hips lifted off the bed, inadvertently grinding against Grimmjow as his jeans and underwear were pulled down to mid thigh. A choked grunt lodged in Ichigo’s throat as a hot tongue licked at a dusty rose nipple.

“You—f*cking hell.”

Ichigo moaned, white teeth tearing into a pink bottom lip as Grimmjow took hold of his co*ck, stroking him at a torturously slow pace while ravenous teeth latched onto his nipple.

“What was I doing, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow asked between each bite as his teeth began tugging on a quickly hardening nipple, grinning with glee when he felt Ichigo’s co*ck twitch in his hand with every pull. Apparently the brat liked this kind of treatment as much as he did.

Ichigo whimpered and bucked his hips in need. His hand twitched in the sheets beside him, desperate to pull on Grimmjow’s hair and urge him to continue his work. “You had me up against the wall with my legs at your hips, and you f*cked me so hard that all I could do was moan your name.”

Grimmjow’s body shook with a pleasured shiver. He felt kinda bad for interrupting that dream now. He really wanted to know how it ended. His own co*ck twitched at the picture painted in his mind. Kurosaki clawing at his shoulders and back, clinging to him so as not to fall. Sunkissed thighs bruising from his powerful hands. That wonderful voice panting, moaning, and groaning directly in his ear. Marking his neck with his teeth and stealing Ichigo’s hot breath with long, deep kisses. He was totally interested in making that dream a reality.

“Interesting,” Grimmjow hummed as if that wasn’t the sexiest goddamn sentence he had ever heard.

Trying to keep himself from admitting that he liked the idea he quickly ensnared Kurosaki’s nipple between his teeth again and sucked on the mound of flesh greedily, lavishing the gently abused skin with his tongue. Curses and moans flowed from Ichigo’s mouth as his back arched off the mattress, pushing out his chest at Grimmjow’s hungry mouth. Seeing how he had never done this before, yet was still causing Ichigo to moan like a whor*, Grimmjow was feeling fairly proud of himself. Of course Kurosaki had claimed a few weeks ago that his kissing technique was improving so he couldn’t exactly place all of his developed skill solely into sheer natural talent. Kurosaki (as always) had a hand in his growth. Although before it was for strength in battle, now it was something along the lines of turning someone into a puddle with just his mouth.

“H-have—f*ck—have you thought about this?” Ichigo panted.

Grimmjow sank his teeth deep into pink flesh and pulled, tearing a loud and drawn out moan from Ichigo’s throat before he released the nipple with a fake apologetic lick and pulled back to stare into Ichigo’s mismatched eyes. The human looked so expectant yet struggled to keep his hope at a minimum. He also struggled to wipe the horny look from his eyes in an attempt to concentrate without clouded, lustful vision. As if that could happen. He was beyond ridiculous.

“I don’t take cold showers for nothing, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow answered.

One human shouldn’t be this damn cute.

That confession shouldn’t have been that important to Kurosaki either, but regardless the look on his face claimed it was.

“What, uh, have you thought about us doing?” Ichigo asked, clearing his nervous throat with a cough.

A small smile curled the corners of Grimmjow’s lips then leaned in close until they were nose to nose. “I don’t really need to tell you, Kurosaki. You’re about to find out first hand,” he purred.

He pressed their lips together in another kiss, swallowing every groan that spilled from Ichigo’s throat as he took both of their co*cks in hand and stroked them together. A curse rattling in Ichigo’s mouth as his hands rejoined the event. Grimmjow couldn’t have been more grateful. Those burning, calloused fingers scattered pleasure throughout his body as they brushed over his skin. Goosebumps broke out across the pale flesh. His nipples hardened as they were pinched. Encouraging growls rumbling deep in the Arrancar’s chest quickly followed when his co*ck pulsed and a small bead of precum seeped from the tip. Ichigo’s tongue searched his mouth as if he were hiding secrets, his hands trying to pull answers from Grimmjow’s body. Lean, muscular legs squirmed under Grimmjow in a fit to kick off tight jeans, a snarl of frustration building in Ichigo’s throat. He would’ve thought Ichigo’s desperate anger was amusing if he weren’t just as eager to move on. They’d done all of this already. They wanted something new. Gluttony had overtaken them. Kissing and touching one another was no longer enough. They wanted more. They needed more.

They were wasting time.

With a growl Grimmjow snatched the band of Ichigo’s jeans and underwear and yanked them down—nearly tearing the clothing from Ichigo’s body—and pulled back to remove them completely. Meanwhile Ichigo had no hesitation as he turned his eyes away from Grimmjow—albeit slowly—and threw open the nightstand drawer. Tossing the clothes onto the floor, Grimmjow returned to his rightful place towering over Kurosaki, kissing and nipping at his bare shoulders and distracting the human as he continued his search. His pale fingers brushed over Ichigo’s hips, tracing the sharp cut of his pelvis before his hands traveled further. He had felt Kurosaki’s thighs before. Usually when they clung to his hips or the ginger tried to use him as a body pillow at night, but this was different. This time Kurosaki was completely naked. He could feel every twitch of muscle, feel every inch of soft skin, feel every scar directly on his fingertips. He could feel Ichigo responding to every touch, his legs spreading further and further apart the lower Grimmjow’s hands sank. It was f*cking beautiful. If he weren’t in such a hurry he’d take the time to drink it all in, but all Grimmjow could think about was how badly he wanted Ichigo clawing at his spine and moaning his name while the Arrancar f*cked his tight, I-look-good-in-everything ass.

“Goddamnit!” Ichigo cursed as he slammed the drawer and pulled Grimmjow from his lustful haze.

“The hell is wrong with you, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow demanded.

Ichigo laid on his back with a huff, clutching a small bottle in his angry fist. “I have lube but I don’t have f*cking condoms. Of f*cking course I don’t! I don’t know why I thought I did! I haven’t gotten laid in three f*cking years!” Ichigo snapped in exasperation.

Grimmjow quirked a brow. The hell was that? Whatever it was it sounded like Kurosaki wasn’t going any further without it. That was the opposite of what he wanted. “Do we really them?”

Ichigo pinned him with a hard glare. “As the son of a doctor I’m obligated to say yes. Just because neither of us can get pregnant doesn’t mean we can’t contract a disease.”

Okay. That somewhat explained what that was.

“Uh, you don’t have any diseases, do you?” Grimmjow asked.

“Well, no. I make sure to get checked at least once a year because some stuff doesn’t show up until later in life. Mostly because my father scared the sh*t outta me when I was a kid and he talked about STDs so I’m super paranoid,” Ichigo said, his anger lowering from a boil to a sizzle, “Although now that I think about it I really shouldn’t have blown you without a condom either.”

The brat was seriously regretting that now? Hell no. Grimmjow wanted that to happen again and he wasn’t going to let some human virus or whatever f*ck up his chances of feeling Ichigo’s mouth and ass on his dick. They had come way too far to stop now.

“Alright. So I wanna point out two things to you,” Grimmjow said, raising fingers as he listed them off, “I’m already dead and this is a fake body.”

“The hell are you talking about? Is that supposed to make me feel better? You’re making me sound like a creep for wanting to f*ck you,” Ichigo huffed.

“You are a creep for wanting that. I’m a Hollow after all. Kinda your natural sworn enemy. But that’s not what I was talking about,” Grimmjow placed a hand on his own chest, “I’m literally dead. A spirit—or at least a twisted version of one. I literally can’t get sick and I can’t carry diseases either. Soul Reapers can get sick only because they’re life in the rawest form. So even if you did have an STD or whatever it literally won’t hurt me. Also this thing you can see is a Gigai. If the body gets ruined I can just force Urahara to make me another one.”

The gears turned in Ichigo’s mind. Grimmjow started to fear that the human would still say no, but when a bright red blush burst upon Ichigo’s cheeks he knew he had nothing to worry about.

“S-so...we can still do this,” Ichigo murmured slowly.

Brown and gold eyes raked over Grimmjow’s naked body and filled with an odd mix of lust and anxiety when reality seeped in. The human gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing as his mind scrambled to find the next step. Luckily for him Grimmjow knew exactly what it was. With a crooked grin he bent down to kiss Ichigo again, taking it slow as his fingers brushed over the boy’s jaw and traced the dark hickies leading down to a freckled shoulder. Ichigo groaned into the kiss and grabbed Grimmjow’s waist in an attempt to ground himself as soft fingers roamed over his bicep down to his wrist, pulling the small bottle of lube from Ichigo’s hand.

“Now do you wanna keep takin’ everything excruciatingly slow,” Grimmjow whispered between kisses, “Or do you want me to f*ck you so hard that you can barely stand?”

“f*ck, how do you know to talk like that?” Ichigo whined, “Obviously I want the second but you’ve gotta prep me first. sh*t, do you even know how to do that?”

Grimmjow snorted. “I’ve had sex before, Kurosaki.”

“Right. Sorry, but ah...have you ever used lube?” Ichigo asked with hope in his eyes.

“No, but I know what it is and how to use it,” Grimmjow said with a shrug and cracked open the bottle.

“How do you know?” Ichigo asked.

“I was watching you for a few weeks before I came to your school in a Gigai, and during that time there was a night where you used it on yourself,” Grimmjow shrugged again as he pulled back and positioned himself between Ichigo’s thighs, “I didn’t really see anything because I hightailed it outta there when I realized what you were doing, but I got the gist of what lube is used for.”

There was a long—very long moment of silence where Ichigo just stared at the Arrancar. Grimmjow hadn’t known what to expect. Anger was the most probable. It was Kurosaki’s normal reaction to someone invading his personal space or being embarrassed—pretty much everything. So Grimmjow was mildly surprised when Ichigo dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand and settled deeper into the mattress while spreading his legs a bit further apart.

“I’m too turned on to give a sh*t at the moment. Get going before I change my mind,” Ichigo ordered.

Grimmjow snickered at Kurosaki’s blunt command, too amused by his actions to be insulted from being told what to do. “You’re pretty bossy for someone who’s got their legs spread so wide they might as well be two continents separated by an ocean,” Grimmjow mocked as he flicked the skin on a tanned inner thigh.

“Yeah, like you’re not into that. I can feel your dick twitching on my thigh, jackass,” Ichigo scoffed.

Called out and brutally burned. That sort of thing shouldn’t turn him on but it totally did. Normally when people gave Grimmjow attitude they were instantly annihilated by a Cero or even devoured. Ichigo’s heated sarcasm filled the Arrancar with a need to annihilate and devour the human, but for completely different reasons with vastly opposite results.

“Y’know,” Grimmjow purred, brushing his pale fingertips up a sunkissed thigh—stopping mere inches away from a weeping co*ck in desperate need of attention, “I’ve always wondered if there’s a way to shut up that pretty mouth of yours. Obviously f*cking your throat doesn’t cut it and jacking you off while marking your neck only makes the walls shake with your embarrassing moans. You think if I give you a good dicking you’ll finally find yourself at a loss for words? Maybe an Arrancar’s co*ck will turn you speechless for once?”

Ichigo’s legs shifted, damn near placing his body on full display...actually that’s exactly what he was doing. Glowing orange hair pooling dramatically around his sunkissed and sculpted body. That burning look in his eyes and fiesty smirk on his lips. Those long and lean legs pushing apart without any aid from his hands. f*ck. Grimmjow seriously thought he was the only one flexible enough to do that. He really shouldn’t be surprised. Kurosaki had a ridiculous amount of control over his body.

“There’s only one way to find out, right?” Ichigo challenged.

Grimmjow smiled. It was small, but also the first genuine smile he had worn in years, if not lifetimes. There was no malice, cruelty, or anger in the upward curve of his lips. Only a glowing grin that radiated fondness and peace. That smile alone caused Ichigo’s breath to hitch. A reaction that went unnoticed by the Arrancar.

“Well, if there’s only one way...,” Grimmjow chuckled as he leaned in.

Their lips met in a brief kiss, one that was soon followed by another to rebuild the heat between them. Fully recharged on lust Grimmjow pulled back and squeezed a sizable amount of lube onto his fingers, making a face at the strange texture. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it was very different from just using saliva like he had done in the past. Of course the focus back then was to get off. The focus now was to...he didn’t actually know what the focus was. All Grimmjow knew was that this was more important than just getting off and held value greater than a mere distraction. That knowledge alone was frightening.

Grimmjow swallowed dryly as he stared down at his lube slicked fingers then down at their destination. This was...extremely intimate. Right? This wasn’t just prep—it was important of course but he didn’t just want to make room for himself, so to speak. He wanted to make Kurosaki enjoy it. It wasn’t just prep it was...what the hell would anyone call this?

“Grimm, I’m dyin’ here. What’s wrong?” Ichigo groaned with an impatient roll of his hips.

Dear lord he wanted nothing more than to see Kurosaki moaning and sweating and twisting on the mattress as he f*cked him with his fingers. Torture him by bringing him so close to climax before taking it away and repeating the action over and over again until Ichigo begged for release. Grimmjow would willingly give Kurosaki the best damn climax of his life if he begged for it.

What had Kurosaki called this?

Selfishly selfless?

“Keep talkin’ like that Kurosaki and I won’t be able to hold back,” Grimmjow warned as he placed a hand on the human’s warm hip.

“Never asked you to,” Ichigo said, then struck him with an intense gaze, “And I told you to call me Ichigo.”

Blue eyes struggled to break away from those alluring irises but eventually managed to turn his attention back to the task at hand. He hated this Gigai for a billion reasons, but his current issue was the damn heart in his chest. It pounded so heavily that he feared it was going to burst through his sternum. Not to mention the blasted thing was louder than a drum, literally screaming how nervous he truly was. He hoped Kurosaki couldn’t hear it or at least mistook it for his own heartbeat.

He was such a coward. He hated being this damn pathetic.

With an audible gulp Grimmjow tightened his grip on Ichigo’s hip as his middle finger slipped between his cheeks and prodded the tight hole.

“sh*t,” Ichigo gasped, sucking in a deep breath as his fingers clawed at the sheets.

At least Grimmjow wasn’t the only one blushing. He hadn’t expected this to be any different from sleeping with his Fracción, yet it was. Hell if he knew why.

Biting the inside of his cheek Grimmjow watched Ichigo’s face as he eased his finger inside all the way to the second knuckle. The array of expressions that appeared on Ichigo’s face left Grimmjow in awe. He didn’t know there could be so may types of pleasure, much less that Ichigo would wear all of them from something so simple. Or that Grimmjow would be the cause of it. He hadn’t seen any discomfort yet either. After clearing his throat Grimmjow adjusted his knees and moved his hand to rest beside Ichigo’s waist, leaning over him and jumping his eyes back and forth between the human’s face and his own finger disappearing into his enemy, a thrilled chill oozing across his skin as Ichigo cursed and released a moan.

“Grimm stop torturing me and hurry up,” Ichigo whined.

He loved it when Ichigo’s ears turned pink. It always made him look so cute and innocent. Even though Grimmjow knew the opposite was true. At least the second part, anyways.

“I’m not torturing you, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow murmured as he pulled his finger back and forth, steadily thrusting his finger in and out of Ichigo in search for a specific spot and mesmerized at the sight of such a tight ring of muscle pulling the digit in deeper, “I’m trying to enjoy my meal. Completely gobbling down everything laid out before me without taking my time to taste it would be a waste.”

The hell was he talking about? He never took his time with anything. Least of all with eating. He barely ever chewed whatever Hollow he trapped in his jaws.

Ichigo groaned and rocked his hips again, trying to impale himself on Grimmjow’s thick finger. His notes of pleasure gradually increased as Grimmjow pushed his finger in as deeply as possible, curling and stroking the incredibly velvety and hot walls. It felt like his finger was melting. He could only imagine what this tight ass was going to do to his dick.

Grimmjow swallowed and lowered his body against Ichigo’s, gently grinding his hips against Ichigo’s lean thigh as he kissed and nipped at a freckled shoulder and hard clavicle. “You ready for a second finger?” Grimmjow asked, licking a wet stripe up the boy’s neck.

“Dear lord yes,” Ichigo whimpered.

Long fingers combed through wet blue hair, tugging gently on the locks and scratching just above Grimmjow’s ears as Kurosaki bit his lower lip.

That felt way too good.

He pulled the first finger out, aligning a second beside it before pushing back in slowly.

Ichigo’s breath hitched as his ass immediately clenched down on the abrupt intrusion. This wasn’t going to work.

“Relax, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow ordered. He pressed kisses along the hickies on Ichigo’s neck, pausing to lick and suck at the teeth marks he had left behind.

“I know, I know. It’s just been a while,” Ichigo admitted.

Calloused fingers continued to card through wavy blue strands as Grimmjow gradually eased two fingers inside, curling slowly and thrusting gently. It took a minute but soon Ichigo was moaning once more with all signs of discomfort wiped clean from his face.

“Fuuuuck I haven’t felt someone else’s fingers in such a long time,” Ichigo moaned and tugged on Grimmjow’s hair, “And what the hell, man? You look so goddamn sexy when your hair is wet. It’s stupid and unfair. I just look like a wet mop.”

That was a goddamn lie and it literally physically hurt Grimmjow to hold back the scoff building in his chest.

“My bad, but is that the only time I look presentable?” Grimmjow teased before taking the flesh of Kurosaki’s neck between his teeth.

“Of course not. You always look drop dead gorgeous, which only makes this whole situation worse,” Ichigo admitted.

Grimmjow felt himself smile again. He drove Kurosaki crazy. Good. They were on even footing. But he had to push that enjoyment aside. He was on a mission. He pulled away from Ichigo’s grasp, sitting back to get a better view as he slowly scissored his fingers, pushing them far apart and stretching Kurosaki obscenely wide. It was a beautiful sight. He was so damn tight and yet his ass looked as if it were dying to be filled with his co*ck. That and more. Grimmjow licked his lips as his co*ck twitched, oozing out a small drop of precum. Would Kurosaki even allow him to do that? Just because they weren’t using a condom didn’t mean he was willing to let a crazy, murderous Arrancar fill him up like a damn pastry. Then again there was a chance Kurosaki would like it. And even if he changed his mind afterwards or decided he didn’t like the feeling Grimmjow wasn’t against using his tongue to clean—

Okay, he really needed to get a grip on himself. One thing at a time. He shouldn’t get excited about something that wasn’t likely to happen.

Dear lord he really hoped it would.

“Grimm, seriously, what’s the hold up?” Ichigo whined, tilting his hips suggestively.

“You’re f*ckin’ needy, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said with a smirk. Needy people were annoying, but as per usual it was different with Kurosaki.

“You’re taking too long!” Ichigo huffed.

“Don’t be an impatient slu*t, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow scoffed. Now he was trying to keep himself from smiling but for the life of him he couldn’t. Not when Ichigo looked like this while looking at him.

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Now hurry up!” Ichigo demanded.

“You’re only twenty-one,” Grimmjow replied.

“It’s an expression. I f*cking swear Jaegerjaquez, if you don’t pick up the pace I’m gonna f*ck myself and leave you in the dust,” Ichigo threatened.

“Maybe I like goin’ slow. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, after all,” Grimmjow mocked. Well, he was grinning again. He shouldn’t even bother stopping it. Grimmjow had a feeling the smile wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“I’m gonna smack the sh*t outta—oooohhhhh f*cking hell.”

Ichigo’s threat crumbled with a hiss as a third finger joined the first two. The miffed scowl on the boy’s face melted away to reveal lustful eyes and starving white teeth chewing on a freckled lip.

“What was that?” Grimmjow asked innocently.

“f*ck I love this feeling,” Ichigo groaned.

Not the answer he was expecting, but hell, Grimmjow will gladly take it.

With another uplifting twitch of his lips the Arrancar continued to coax Ichigo’s body into accepting the intrusion. Despite being the third finger there wasn’t a single sour note of discomfort from Kurosaki’s voice, only small whimpers and breathless gasps. His boyish face fell deeper and deeper into desire as his eyes darkened—the honey brown simmering and the gold piercing. Were Hollow eyes always this breathtaking? It was common knowledge that Hollows typically had a haunting shade of gold for their irises with the occasional exception of red—a rarity among their race but not so uncommon that it made those individuals special. Kurosaki’s Hollow eye wasn’t any different. It was the same as every other. The same color Grimmjow once wore himself. Cold, animalistic, and heartless...qualities that didn’t seem to belong on the boy’s face. There was something about it. Something that made Kurosaki different. What was it?

Grimmjow twisted his fingers while deep in thought, mindlessly searching for that one special spot when his fingers finally struck gold, firmly pressing on that sensitive bundle of nerves every man loved. Ichigo’s eyes widened as his muscles locked. Black nails clawed at the bedsheets as heels dug into the bed. A limber spine arched off the mattress and his head was thrown back when Kurosaki released a booming cry of pleasure. Grimmjow’s breath hitched as his mind was ripped back into the present, biting the tip of his tongue as he watched Ichigo unravel with every tremble of his shaking limbs while the tight heat wrapped around his fingers nearly cut off his circulation. The golden eye suddenly boiled with life, the breathtaking color burning with the same intense passion as the brown iris. Clouded with lust and completely unaware of its surroundings and living. None of those were the emotions of a Hollow. That’s why his eye was different. Kurosaki’s Hollow wasn’t purely Hollow the same way Kurosaki was never purely human. Ogihci felt everything Ichigo did. Experienced the same pleasure, the same pain, the same everything. He was a Hollow...but he wasn’t heartless.

But that brought up another question.

Did Ogihci want this?

“G-Gr-Grimm st-stoooop,” Ichigo gasped, gritting his teeth as he tried to snatch Grimmjow’s wrist even though he couldn’t control his own body, “St-stop t-touching—hah! I c-can’t breathe!”

The warning snapped Grimmjow from his thoughts. He hadn’t realized that he was continuously stroking and pressing on those nerves. Immediately he pulled his fingers back until only the tips rested inside. Ichigo released a pathetic whimper as his spine kissed the bed one more, his body breaking out in waves of intense shivers while his co*ck jumped with each shake and spat an obscene amount of sticky precum. Grimmjow had never felt the need to have someone’s dick in his mouth before but for f*ck’s sake at the rate precum poured from Kurosaki’s co*ck he was starting to believe the damn thing belonged on his tongue for him to suck on like a damn straw.

“f*ck,” Ichigo rasped, “That...was too much.”

Shame washed over Grimmjow but he tried to bury the feeling deep down inside and refused to react, although the bright blush on his cheeks gave him away. “Whimp.”

Ichigo smiled softly around his pants. Both of his eyes sparkled; the brown beaming with adoration and understanding, the gold glowing with thick, smug teasing. Damn brat saw right through him.

“S’alright. Not gonna lie it felt pretty damn good. I just didn’t want this to end so quickly,” Ichigo chuckled.

“Even if it did, that wouldn’t mean—,” Grimmjow stopped himself.

That wouldn’t mean this will be their only chance.

Even if Kurosaki finished early—even if he finished early, it wasn’t a problem. f*cking one time didn’t insinuate that this wouldn’t happen ever again. In fact having sex ensures this will happen again. Even though the first time shouldn’t. The only way there wouldn’t be a repeat is if the sex was completely dull and unfulfilling. Even if Grimmjow were that sh*tty in bed Kurosaki would still be amazing enough to make it worth it.

Ichigo’s smile turned into a smirk, his breathing under better control, “Wouldn’t mean you’d stop yourself from getting what you want? How caveman of you.”

His brows furrowed. “No,” Grimmjow replied seriously. Why would he do that? Taking what he wanted had limits. Granted he knew he wasn’t exactly a good person but taking advantage of Kurosaki like that...just thinking about it stained his tongue with a foul taste. Taking advantage of anyone like that was beyond his limits. He didn’t want Ichigo to just lay there and take it. He would never want that. It was no different from battle. He wanted Kurosaki to fight back and challenge him. It wouldn’t be enjoyable any other way.

Ichigo raised a curious brow. “Care to elaborate?”

Grimmjow thought about it. “No.” He couldn’t put that possibility on the table. Or at least not mention that there was a possibility this could happen again.

The boy snorted but his smile returned. “Have I ever told you that I find your mysterious shtick oddly sexy?”

The corners of Grimmjow’s lips curled. “You’re f*ckin’ weird, Kurosaki.”

Grimmjow’s grin faltered when warm fingers cupped his cheek, calloused fingertips prodding his jaw and guiding the Arrancar into a soft kiss. His muscles melted from the gentle action, mind clouding over as Ichigo’s soft lips kissed him so sweetly. It was unlike anything he had experienced before. Everything in his life was rough. Swords slicing through his skin. Bones shattering and tearing through muscle. The violent hands of his enemies. The controlling hands of his allies. The absence of lips against his. Sex under a cold moon against cutting rock and brittle quartz. Every aspect of his life was one kick in the teeth after another. With Ichigo it was different. His rough hands were always so careful. They admired his body but never took, marked his skin but never scarred. Here they were in broad daylight, naked bodies pressed flush against one another on a heavenly bed with their lips glued in an endless kiss. Ichigo’s kind personality was overwhelming. The presence of the human’s care always eased the tightness in his shoulders and placed him in a strange state of peace and content. It was something Grimmjow had never felt before, the emotions so foreign to him that he now understood why Ichigo’s kindness had affected him so deeply the other night. Even if popping a boner from Ichigo refusing to engage in sexual activities with him was rather embarrassing. And pathetic.

All too soon the kiss ended and Grimmjow groaned, leaning in to capture Ichigo’s lips in another. A burning thumb sealed his lips together as the other brushed across his cheek, encouraging him to open the blue eyes he hadn’t realized he closed. The smile on Ichigo’s face was small but it wasn’t any less sincere. It still made the artificial heart in his chest race as if he were caught in a devastating war.

“I don’t want to wait any longer. I’m ready whenever you are, Grimm. If you still wanna do this.”

Those words struck Grimmjow like lightning and he swallowed dryly. It was now or never. Now sounded better than never, even though his brain continuously called him a dumbass. The Arrancar nodded and removed his three fingers completely, the hairs on his arms and neck rising at the sound of Ichigo’s whine from the loss. He adjusted his knees and brushed his hands over Ichigo’s thighs as he got into position. Ichigo immediately locked his legs around Grimmjow’s hips and an excited growl vibrated in the Arrancar’s chest. That’s what he liked about Kurosaki. He was needy. He was demanding and possessive. Grimmjow never thought he‘d be into something like that, but it made his co*ck twitch just thinking about it. It made him wonder if Kurosaki was the jealous type. On the surface the human seemed so trusting and confident in others that he would never be envious. Below that laid a maggot infested heart shrouded in self doubt. How would Kurosaki react to someone else touching the Arrancar? Grimmjow squirted an excessive amount of lube onto his hand, using up what was left, and tossed the bottle away—surely landing somewhere on the immaculate carpet. He was definitely going to get yelled at for that later but currently Ichigo’s eyes were too busy staring at his dick too care. With a faint smile on his lips Grimmjow took hold of his own co*ck and stroked himself slowly, spreading the lube across his member in an erotic display. As expected the ginger appreciated the view and stated so silently, Ichigo’s adam’s apple bobbing greedily as he licked his lips. He was so easy.

“f*ck,” Grimmjow purred. He rolled his hips forward and f*cked his own hand with a husky grunt. He couldn’t stop grinning when Ichigo responded with a desperate whimper.

“sh*t,” Ichigo breathed, tightening his legs further, “The next time you decide to jack off remember to invite me. You look so f*cking gorgeous when you touch yourself.”

Grimmjow didn’t really touch himself all that much (at least he didn’t used to) but hell. Having those eyes—Ichigo’s eyes—watching Grimmjow pleasure himself and completely unravel before the human? He had never wanted anything so badly before. Kurosaki would undoubtedly make lustful comments the whole way through. Would praise his body and the way it moved. Would purr at the noises he released. Would say filthy things about what he wanted Grimmjow to do to him, what he wanted to do to Grimmjow, and would call him teasing names. Names that would describe what a f*cking slu*t he was. Grimmjow shivered as pre beaded from the tip of his co*ck. sh*t. He could hear it already. Ichigo’s youthfully deep and smooth voice murmuring a silky “slu*t” as he watched Grimmjow cum all over himself. Kurosaki would lose his f*cking mind if he came all over his own face and hair. Grimmjow knew he could do it. He’d done it before. Even if it was by accident.

A sunkissed hand caught his wrist and stilled his movements. Blue eyes lifted to stare at Ichigo in questioning, wondering why the boy would stop him with a smile on his face.

“I said next time, Grimm. As hot as this is I’d rather not miss out on that aching feeling your dick is likely gonna give me from stretching my ass so damn much,” Ichigo snickered.

Grimmjow couldn’t help but smirk again. Kurosaki continued to surprise him with that filthy mouth of his. He hoped the ginger would never stop. “That’s real cute. Thinkin’ that if I come I’m not gonna be able to f*ck you six ways to Sunday. f*ckin’ adorable Kurosaki,” Grimmjow leaned down, their noses touching as he pressed his co*ck at Ichigo’s entrance and watched the human’s eyes blow wide, “I don’t care how many times I come. I’m not gonna stop f*cking you until I can’t stand to feel you writhing beneath me and moaning in my ear. So as you can see, yer not leaving this bed anytime soon.”

A drawn out moan echoed in Ichigo’s throat as he clawed at the mattress. His co*ck jumping at the picture Grimmjow had painted. A promise he intended to keep.

“G-good thing I don’t have any plans then, huh?” Ichigo stammered as his ears turned pink.

Another wide smile split across Grimmjow’s face, “Lucky.”

Grimmjow nipped at Ichigo’s bottom lip before he retreated. His eyes raked over the human’s body one last time. Pure poetry in physical form. Nothing more, nothing less. His large hand took hold of a tanned hip, fingers sliding down the supple flesh as he fell deep into thought. Ichigo hid it well—or at least assumed he had—but Grimmjow wasn’t oblivious to the animosity festering in that oversized heart in Kurosaki’s chest. For some reason the boy despised himself. Ashamed of who he was, what he had done, or how he looked Grimmjow didn’t know. The Arrancar was positive about only one thing: Kurosaki had nothing to hate about himself. He should only feel a sense pride upon viewing his own reflection. Kind. Powerful. Beautiful. Completely flawless. Overwhelming good. Ichigo was the only one who didn’t see it.

Grimmjow wished he could change that.

But how?

And why?

Why was he so concerned about his enemy?

Embedding crescents into soft skin, he pushed his hips forward slowly. A whispered curse spilled from Grimmjow’s tongue as Kurosaki’s ridiculously tight hole resisted his advances until the head of his co*ck forced its way inside. f*ck f*ck f*ck. Goosebumps broke out across Grimmjow’s pale skin as his fingers clawed at tanned hips and a curse squeezed through gritted teeth. Kurosaki was purely volcanic. Ichigo’s hand was one matter, his mouth far above it, but nothing could begin to compare to what Grimmjow felt now. The heat. The suffocating tightness. So goddamn soft. It was beyond amazing. Easily the best body Grimmjow ever had beneath him. No contest. He couldn’t believe someone who felt this f*cking good would be with him.

His blue eyes opened and traced the soft curve of Ichigo’s cheek, watching as the boy’s face continued to seep into a dark shade of red as he fought to hold back his noises. Kurosaki was going to split his own lip by the end of the night.

Maybe it wasn’t concern.

He just didn’t want to watch Kurosaki destroy himself. It was Grimmjow’s job to be the death of the Soul Reaper, not some damn depression and stupid insecurities.

Kurosaki was his prey.

His sharp ears twitched at the sound of Ichigo’s breath hitching, air unable to enter and exit his lungs. They needed to go slower. The Arrancar stilled his hips to allow the human to adjust. Moments passed with Grimmjow’s pale hands gently stroking Ichigo’s hips and thighs as means of distraction for both of them. He didn’t dare look at the human again. As time passed he wondered how Kurosaki had procured scars in such strange places. Along his arms and over his chest and stomach, even going so far as to brand his back—those scars made sense. The ones on his thighs, especially on the vulnerable insides, those were the strange ones. Some of them contained spiritual pressure. Many of them didn’t. Possibly the work of jealous and inferior thugs at Kurosaki’s high school. Even without his powers people still lusted over his abilities and natural talent.

When the ginger started to breathe again Grimmjow began pushing his hips forward slowly. It was pure torture to move at such a sluggish pace. He wasn’t used to slow and careful. With his Fracción he hadn’t needed to be. Their bodies were tough enough to withstand the little things human’s couldn’t. Ichigo wouldn’t be able to handle something that rough. At least not in this frail human body. (Well, not frail but not exactly able to survive the attack of a starving Hollow.) Going slow was beneficial to Kurosaki, but it was f*cking hell for Grimmjow.

Kurosaki was so much tighter than he had anticipated. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had felt how tight the bastard was when he prepped him but his fingers weren’t nearly as sensitive as his dick was—nor as big. Not to mention he was so goddamn hot. So goddamn warm to the point that it was almost painful. Hell, painful or not it was still f*cking amazing. Kurosaki felt wonderful. Perfect. He was nearly indescribable because Grimmjow’s mind was practically fried from all the pleasure. The issue was restraints. Kurosaki felt so f*cking good that he wanted nothing more than to drive his hips forward and smash into Kurosaki full force, impaling him with every thick inch of his co*ck—but he held back. It would only cause Ichigo pain and ruin the moment. So, he had to move slowly. While leisurely pressing his hips forward his sensitive ears twitched with every breathless gasp and whimper the human released until his pelvis laid flush against Ichigo’s ass with every inch of his throbbing member fully seated inside his enemy. f*cking hell he’s never felt anything so good before. Grimmjow was fairly aware that he was chanting curses in his mind as his fingers clawed at Ichigo’s hips with an iron grip. He could barely think. His breathing wasn’t any better. He couldn’t stop panting. It’s like his lungs forgot how to circulate air. Or maybe he had. It sounded stupid enough to be something he’d do. f*ck he couldn’t even think straight. Sex had never felt like this before. It was just so...different. Of course...he hadn’t had sex with Ichigo before. He was so goddamn tight—f*cking hell it was driving him crazy. And they hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Why you gotta be so damn tight, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow growled.

“Why’s your dick gotta be so damn big? I swear I’m havin’ a religious experience over here,” Ichigo bit back, struggling to steady his breathing.

A strange noise squeezed through Grimmjow’s throat and pushed past his teeth. He tried his hardest to hold it back, but the growing smile on his face made it impossible.

“Pffffft—ha ha ha!” A massive smile stretched across Grimmjow’s face as he laughed and pulled back in an attempt to hide his genuine merriment behind his hand, “Th-the hell is wrong with you, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo stared at Grimmjow in wonder, the stars in his eye twinkling fiercely as he soaked in every bit of the Arrancar’s dazzling smile. “I have no idea,” he murmured breathlessly.

“Y’know, for over five years I thought you were a dull, normal guy, but these past few months have proved that wrong,” Grimmjow snickered, “You’re bizarre as f*ck.”

Ichigo gulped as his eyes became lidded, irises continuing to grow dark as he ogled at the Arrancar’s face. “Yeah...couldn’t be normal if I tried,” he said.

Grimmjow chuckled at the admission and dropped his hand onto Ichigo’s stomach, tracing the scars with his searching fingers. “Honestly that’s what makes you interesting.”

“I’m interesting?” Ichigo asked, beginning to smile.

“Don’t get hard over a simple compliment, Kurosaki. That’s pathetic,” Grimmjow scoffed.

“It’s Ichigo.”

Grimmjow smirked. Indignant little bitch. He pulled his hips back slightly and snapped them forward, watching with glee when a moan caught in Ichigo’s throat as his knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets in a frightening grasp. “It’s whatever I wanna call you, Kurosaki.”

The smug grin on his face didn’t last long. Ichigo’s eyes were smoldering with a thick glaze of erotic, sparkling honey that went well beyond p*rnographic. His smirk, on the other hand, was just downright frightening. Not the type of frightening that made him scared for his life, but the brand of frightening that made reality sink deep into his bones and forced Grimmjow to fully understand that Ichigo was still in complete control. It was terrifying. Yet strangely thrilling, too.

“Don’t you ever get tired of fighting yourself, Jaegerjaquez?” Ichigo asked.

His voice was creamy, cozy, and undeniably safe—like a room made of golden feathers and pure white silk. His smile was menacing, threatening, and treacherous—the sharp teeth of a venomous lizard grazing the pale skin of Grimmjow’s throat. His eyes, those goddamn eyes, they were all knowing, excruciatingly clever, and saw right through him. They looked at him the same way five years ago and they still pissed him off. Ichigo Kurosaki was the only being alive—or that had ever lived—who could read him like a book. It unnerved Grimmjow to no end. People usually didn’t understand him. He thrived on others not understanding his true thoughts and feelings. That never worked on Ichigo. The bastard was too damn smart.

“You think I forgot about the night I took you into my mouth?” Ichigo teased as his hands slid along Grimmjow’s arms, tracing every dip and curve the muscle structure had to offer, “You keep yourself so outrageously guarded that you can’t fully enjoy anything we do. You refuse to lose control. Refuse to say my name. You deny yourself so much pleasure….”

Suddenly, Ichigo’s heels dug deep into the small of Grimmjow’s back and forced his hips forward, pushing the Arrancar deeper inside him right as he tightened around his co*ck. Grimmjow snarled a curse, angry at himself for dropping his guard. He held back his incriminating noises by grinding his teeth, his fingers sinking deep into the flesh on Ichigo’s hips. The damn brat looked so smug. Granted he had a right to be but still.

“C’mon, Grimm, let yourself have a little fun. I know you’re dying to say my name,” Ichigo purred.

A growl rumbled deep in Grimmjow’s throat as bruises started to form under his fingertips. His light blue eyes seemed to glow when he glared at Ichigo. “That’s a lotta big words comin’ from an uptight, homework humping asshole like you,” Grimmjow sneered.

That goddamn smirk only grew wider.

“You’re so f*cking infuriating,” Grimmjow grumbled as he broke their gaze, “S’not that easy, Kurosaki. Not for me.”

“I know.”

Grimmjow’s eyes snapped back to Ichigo’s. His smile had softened, becoming light and gentle like his voice, which doubled when Grimmjow looked at him once again.

“I get why you’re on guard and why you always had to be, but I want you to understand that this is different,” Ichigo’s eyes twinkled with sincerity as his hands framed Grimmjow’s face, “You can trust me. At least for a little bit. Long enough for you to truly enjoy yourself.”

Trust him?

Grimmjow blinked. Did Kurosaki understand how ridiculous he sounded? He was the last person Grimmjow was ever supposed to trust. Naturally he wasn’t supposed to trust anyone ever but trusting his enemy was beyond insane. He had pushed his limits in the past by trusting his Fracción and even then he was still extremely wary. There were reasons why he never allowed himself to play the submissive role.

A rough thumb stroked his cheek and Grimmjow felt his lungs release a captive breath. Didn’t Kurosaki understand what he was asking? He practically told Grimmjow to turn his back on everything he had ever known. The rules he had lived by to survive. How was he supposed to just...trust like that?

But...this was Ichigo.

With a dry gulp and a relenting sigh Grimmjow gave in and struck Ichigo with a serious stare, “Don’t you dare make me regret this.”

Ichigo smiled and chuckled as he scratched behind Grimmjow’s ear, coaxing the Arrancar to lean in. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ichigo murmured against pale lips before kissing Grimmjow again.

A groan immediately spilled from Grimmjow’s throat, the sound quickly being chased by a blush that was then rescued by Ichigo who mimicked the sound. Unexpected hands pulled the Arrancar closer until their chests touched when Ichigo suddenly bucked his hips.

“f*ck,” Grimmjow grunted, struggling to oppose the need to shut himself down as he ended their kiss. It was okay if Kurosaki knew how much he was enjoying this. Kurosaki wanted to know. This wasn’t sex to maintain bodily needs. This wasn’t manipulation. This was pleasure for pleasure’s sake.

Grimmjow’s heart stuttered in realization. That’s it. That’s the difference. That’s why all of this was so weird. They weren’t f*cking because they needed to. It’s because they wanted to.

A hand broke loose from blue hair and scratched weakly at Grimmjow’s back, insistently trying to urge him along. “Grimm...c’mon, man, pick up the pace,” Ichigo huffed breathlessly.

He sounded so needy. A shiver rushed down Grimmjow’s spine and shook his body to the core. “Yer a f*ckin’ freak,” Grimmjow murmured, licking his lips as he locked his eyes with the ginger’s, “Ichigo.”

Seeing those big eyes react like that, exploding with awe and bursting with life, was completely worth the risk.

“sh*t,” Ichigo chuckled breathlessly, “Your voice is so goddamn sexy. I swear if you hadn’t been trying to kill me five years ago I would’ve started jacking off to your voice a lot sooner.”

Grimmjow snorted and shook his head in an attempt to keep the pleased smile off his face. “Shut up, dumbass. You’re distracting me.”

“My bad. Didn’t know it took so many brain cells for you to f*ck,” Ichigo jeered.

Grimmjow’s large hand grabbed a fistful of orange hair and pulled without warning. A sound mixed between a snarl and a moan spilled from Ichigo’s lips as he bared his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut tightly from the pain while his co*ck jumped, giving away how much he was enjoying the rough treatment. What a f*ckin’ slu*t.

Grimmjow smirked as he removed his hand and brushed his fingers over the human’s waist, pleased with the responding shiver. “You can keep talkin’ if you want, but only if you’re moanin’ my name and tellin’ me how great I am at f*ckin’ your tight ass,” Grimmjow murmured.

Another groan rolled off Ichigo’s tongue in response. The pink muscle grazed his plump lips and left them glistening as he reopened his eyes. Those goddamn eyes were so sinful for someone who was quite frankly a saint. That wry smile, however, belonged to a demon. It spelled trouble. Kurosaki was a walking definition of the word. Whether Kurosaki meant to or not, he stirred up chaos everywhere he existed. It was half of his charm.

“Then why don’tcha get to work, king?” Ichigo teased, his breath heavy and voice smooth.

Scarred hands roamed over Grimmjow’s shoulders. Taking in every last detail of the Arrancar’s skin and muscle, those fingers glided along the segments of his neck one by one to grab fistfuls of blue hair and pulled. He wasn’t nearly as rough as Grimmjow, choosing wisely to be cautious while braving new territory, but the action was firm and commanding enough to cause a wild breakout of goosebumps on his sensitive scalp. A heated groan rumbled in Grimmjow’s throat as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against Ichigo’s, oblivious to the blush rising on the human’s face.

“f*ck. Why do you keep saying that?” Grimmjow asked as his hands took hold of Ichigo’s hips again.

“W-what? King?”

Grimmjow nodded briskly. His eyes were closed; his perfect teeth chewing on his bottom lip. Ears eager to hear that word again but unwilling to admit it. It was beyond silly and incredibly stupid that something like this would get to him, but there was no point in hiding it. Not when Ichigo can feel his co*ck twitching inside him. Not when Ichigo asked him not to.

Fingers tangled in blue hair tugged on short locks again, trying to bring Grimmjow closer even though it was impossible to do so. “I say it because you like it. It’s the same as calling you Grimm. The same way I like you calling me by my first name.”

Was that even considered selfishly selfless? It just seemed selfless. Kurosaki literally got nothing out of calling him Grimm or king.

This f*cking brat didn’t make any sense at all.

While chewing the inside of his cheek Grimmjow slowly pulled his hips back, his sharp ears catching every little hitch and breathless groan in Ichigo’s voice, then slammed his hips forward, shoving every inch of himself back inside.

“sh*t,” Ichigo gasped, biting his lip as his nails clawed at Grimmjow’s neck, “f*ck that felt amazing. Grimm, you’ve gotta start moving. I need you to move faster.”

“S’not my fault you’re so goddamn tight that I can barely move,” Grimmjow bit back, but the venom was missing. Ichigo felt so damn good. He honestly feared that this was going to end way sooner than he expected. Kurosaki definitely wasn’t going to mock him for it, but that wouldn’t stop Grimmjow from berating himself.

He just needed to calm down. Concentrate on something else. Something that wouldn’t remind him of how tight Ichigo felt on his co*ck and how badly he wanted to fill him up.

Grimmjow’s thumbs rubbed the sharp V of Ichigo’s pelvis as he opened his eyes just enough to watch. His grip on Kurosaki’s hips had to be painful. He didn’t know how Ichigo wasn’t complaining. He could see the skin turning red and purpling under his fingertips, bruising right in front of his eyes. They were going to hurt tomorrow. If Kurosaki tried to wear anything besides a very loose pair of sweatpants the material was going to cut and scratch at the wounded skin. It would sting for sure. Then again Grimmjow was fairly certain Ichigo liked it rough. He would probably admire those marks as much as the ones Grimmjow had placed on his neck all those weeks ago. He wasn’t brittle and he didn’t need to be treated as such.

That was going to make this so much easier.

“Grimm, not to sound desperate, but you’ve gotta move. I haven’t been f*cked in so damn long that I dunno how long I’m gonna be able to keep this up. I’m seriously so hard that it hurts and there’s not enough room for me to take care of it,” Ichigo whined.

Kurosaki shouldn’t worry about sounding desperate.

Closing his eyes again Grimmjow started out slow. Simple and soft little bucks from his hips, easing short whimpers and needy groans from Ichigo as Grimmjow allowed them both time to adjust. A pale hand found its way back to orange hair and tugged, tilting the boy’s head back to seal their lips in another searing kiss. When the first groan bubbled in Ichigo’s throat Grimmjow bucked his hips sharply, slamming deep inside the ginger before starting a hard pace.

“sh*t!” Ichigo moaned, his voice muffled by their sloppy kiss.

A growl rumbled in Grimmjow’s chest, the sound predatory and encouraging Ichigo to be louder as each thrust continued to push deeper and deeper. As expected their kisses couldn’t last for long. Eventually Ichigo’s perfect lips melted into a pattern of spewing curses and moans instead of kissing as Grimmjow’s thrusts became hard enough to rock the massive bed. At least the headboard wasn’t smacking against the wall. Yet.

“f*ck f*ck f*ck,” Ichigo hissed through his teeth.

Black nails clawed ferociously at his neck, embedding deep crescents into pale flesh as legs tightened around Grimmjow’s waist and caused the Arrancar to snarl. What a f*cking vixen. Grimmjow’s yanked on Ichigo’s hair again, drinking in the human’s obnoxious moans as he exposed his neck to Grimmjow’s eyes. He could still see that mark he left on his throat. Each and every last one of his teeth embedded into the boy’s sunkissed skin. He was surprised it was still there, but then again he had his jaws fastened on Kurosaki until he was on the brink of bleeding.

He didn’t feel bad about it.

His hand still hurt from when Ichigo bit him back.

Now they were even.

“F-f*ck, Grimm,” Ichigo whined, “sh*t. You’re so f*cking big. I’ve never felt so goddamn full before.”

Grimmjow gritted his teeth as his co*ck twitched at the compliment. His teeth ached. They throbbed in need, eager to carve into sunkissed flesh. It was so goddamn painful that he almost gave in. He could imagine it. The way Ichigo’s skin would give under the strength of his jaw. His fangs piercing tender flesh. Blood soaking his tongue, burning his taste buds. The thought alone induced precum to dribble from his co*ck; knowing that he was doing it inside Ichigo almost caused him to lose control.

Almost.

He couldn’t. Not yet.

He had to wait for the right moment.

Imagine how full yer gonna feel when I come in that tight little ass of yours. Your ass is so f*cking greedy, you’ll milk every last drop from my co*ck; is what Grimmjow wanted to say. But he didn’t.

Or maybe he had.

“Holy sh*t,” Ichigo bit his lip as his arms snaked around Grimmjow’s neck, pulling him closer.

f*cking hell. He could feel Kurosaki’s co*ck pressing against his stomach, squished between them and using the friction of their bodies with each thrust as stimulation while it twitched for attention. That couldn’t be satisfying at all. Or at least not as much as it should be.

Licking his lips, Grimmjow released Ichigo’s long hair and snaked a hand between them, taking hold of the human’s co*ck and squeezing.

“sh*t,” Ichigo moaned, biting his bottom lip as his toes curled, “I love your hands. How are your hands so damn big?”

Grimmjow couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve—hah, f*ck—got weird fetishes, Ichigo.”

“Oh l-like you don’t. You’ve been sniffing at my skin all night and I know you’re dying to bite me,” Ichigo snapped back, biting his lip when he was struck by a particularly hard thrust.

Grimmjow felt his cheeks grow warm as his hips stilled. He hadn’t realized he was that obvious.

“Sh-shut yer f*ckin’ mouth or I’m leaving,” Grimmjow threatened.

“I’d tell you to shut it for me but your co*ck is already busy,” Ichigo snickered.

Kurosaki was so damn strange.

Why was that so compelling?

Grimmjow gave Ichigo’s member one last stroke before releasing him, smiling slightly when Ichigo argued against it.

“Aw c’mon, Grimm, I didn’t mean it,” Ichigo groaned.

“Tch, relax Kurosaki,” Grimmjow snickered, “I’m not done with you yet.”

“What are you—mfff.”

Grimmjow interrupted the ginger with a kiss, framing his freckled face with his hands and smiling when Ichigo released appreciative hums. Tanned hands continued to pull on Grimmjow’s body, nails scratching the Arrancar’s back and shoulders in a pathetic attempt to pull the man closer. Any closer and their bodies would’ve merged into one. Slowly Grimmjow’s hands began to venture. His soft fingertips brushed along Ichigo’s jaw. Tracing the bruises along his throat. Teasing those sensitive sides until he felt Ichigo’s co*ck twitch against his belly. He loved how sensitive the human was. Every move he made enticed musical notes of pleasure from that golden throat. Each touch caused an outbreak of shivers. Each breath caused a swarm of goosebumps. Kurosaki was completely at his mercy and loving every second of it. If that didn’t get his dick hard nothing in this world could. Grimmjow rocked his hips, practically grinding against Ichigo’s ass to push himself as deeply as he could, relishing the wanton moan Kurosaki released.

“Holy f*ck you’re in so deep,” Ichigo said with a groan, breaking their kiss as his body jolted from overstimulation, “sh*t. I dunno if I’ve ever had anyone get this deep before.”

Grimmjow smiled as he continued a steady pace, allowing himself to enjoy the masterpiece laying below. His fingers travelled along the boy’s thighs, counting freckles and comparing scars as those legs coiled tightly around his hips, trying with all their might to pull Grimmjow closer. He wanted to call Ichigo a clingy bastard, but he would be a hypocrite. He wanted Kurosaki closer, too. His desires evident by his large hands consuming tanned hips. Nails scratching sunkissed skin as he lifted the man’s hips; their kiss continuing and deepening until they shared the same breath.

Kurosaki’s beauty was astounding. From every strand of exotic hair to the husky, needy moans; every last bit of this man was gorgeous. It was infuriating. One person shouldn’t be this intoxicating. His sweet breath. His spiced skin. The way he bit his lips as he tried to hold back his moans. The way his muscles shifted and rolled from the slightest touch. How black nails clawed his shoulders and raked down his spine, luring shameful sounds to spill forth from Grimmjow’s preoccupied lips. Sleek piercings exuding dangerous and lustful themes. That skillful tongue stealing his soul and ruling their sloppy, desperate kiss. Freckles highlighting the boy’s perfection, enticing Grimmjow to study every last inch of the human’s body with his hands, his eyes, his teeth and tongue.Those eyes gazing into his with so much desire and passion that for once in his life Grimmjow felt as if he was exactly where he should be. Kurosaki’s fire consuming Grimmjow whole until every last piece of him belonged in the human’s arms. The Arrancar wasn’t even sure Kurosaki was aware of it; his spiritual pressure pulsing from his body and rolling over Grimmjow’s skin in deep, sensual waves. He could feel Ichigo’s hands all over his body because of it. His spiritual pressure stroking and tasting all Grimmjow had to offer and weakening the strength in his muscles, injecting the Arrancar with a hazed lust.

This is where things get dicey. The moment his mind starts to slip everything goes to hell. His defenses lower and his whole existence is limited to a single moment. A single person. Everything around him vanishes. The soft mattress below him. The sunlight reflecting off his slick skin. The headboard crashing brutally against the wall, peeling the paint and creating a violent indent. This room that he had become so familiar with, the very place he had started to call home, all of it gone. As if it never existed. Leaving only Ichigo behind. Ichigo with his honest moans. Ichigo with his kind eyes and needy hands. Ichigo with his sweet words and high praises. Ichigo with everything Grimmjow wasn’t. Everything the Arrancar had once sneered at. Everything the Arrancar used to mock, until that everything was suddenly directed at him. Until all of that overwhelming good was in his grasp, willingly given to him by the only pure Soul Reaper to exist. The only human he could trust. The only human he could ever—

“Ahh!”

Ichigo’s gasp shook Grimmjow from his deep thoughts, his lips immediately seeking Ichigo’s again as the boy’s spine arched, pressing their sweat drenched bodies together like an erotic art form. Ichigo’s nails scratched red lines across the Arrancar’s neck, fingers fisting blue hair and holding the man back. Just out of reach. Grimmjow released a pathetic growl, bucking his hips in frustration as his lips burned with the need to kiss perfect lips.

“Hah! Sh-sh*t. R-right there. Right there, Grimm,” Ichigo panted, teeth tearing at a freckled bottom lip, “Do...do it again.”

Grimmjow snarled at the demand, trying to fight against the human’s tight grasp on his hair as he slammed his hips forward forcefully. He hadn’t intended to please the ginger. He merely wanted to shut him up. Instead he got so much more.

“f*ck, yes!” Ichigo cried out, “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He swore those nails were trying to peel the skin from his body. These deep scratches that broke his skin and caused him to bleed, they marked him the same way his teeth marked Kurosaki’s throat. Such small cuts reeked of the boy’s scent, his spiritual pressure flooding through Grimmjow’s body by entering the wounds. They coated his back, claiming every last inch of the Arrancar’s spine and screaming ownership. They were burning. Searing into his flesh and turning into scars. Undeniable evidence of Kurosaki’s hold on him. This should strike fear into the darkest pits of Grimmjow’s soul. Awaken the Hollow within him and make all of this nonsense end. It didn’t. Grimmjow wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t belong to anyone and he never will, but something about this body craved Kurosaki. Maybe it was because of the scar across his torso; a lingering symbol of the ginger’s wicked power living in his pale skin that craved to be claimed by someone so powerful. The idea of being Ichigo’s as much as Ichigo was his...the thought alone almost filled the void in his stomach. To be wanted by someone. To be actively sought after and desired despite who he is and what he’s done...all of it was too much.

A weak whimper squeezed through Grimmjow’s teeth as he deepened his thrusts, distracting himself by nailing that sensitive bundle of nerves with every jerk of his hips. The melodic string of pleasured noises that flew from Kurosaki’s lips scattered goosebumps across his body. Those hands clinging to him causing his hunger to spike. The overstimulated tears in Ichigo’s clenched eyes making his teeth ache as saliva soaked his eager tongue. His cyan eyes couldn’t stray from the human’s long, slender neck; the predatory irises watching Ichigo’s pulse race with every sinful scream. His co*ck throbbed inside of Kurosaki, leaking an abundance of precum as his mind became plagued with thoughts and memories of sinking his teeth into a soft throat. He wanted to possess Kurosaki. He wanted this human all to himself. His enemy and no one else's. His servant and no one else's. His god...and no one else's.

Hollows weren’t allowed to have possessions. Cursed to devour anything that held a place in their vacant hearts. Doomed to destroy to only good thing in their lives. He couldn’t have this.

Long fingers pulled on thick blue hair, harshly steering the Arrancar’s head to rest beside Kurosaki’s as the ginger held him in an invading embrace. It took Grimmjow ages to realize it was a hug.

“Grimm, stop holding back,” Ichigo said weakly, his voice strained from his lewd screams of lust, “I want all of you. I want...I need it. Stop holding back.”

He couldn’t have this.

But Kurosaki wanted it too.

Grimmjow tilted his head slowly. One hand held onto a tanned hip with a bruising grip, the other brushing orange bangs from brown eyes and carding through exceedingly long hair. With a soft yank Grimmjow exposed Ichigo’s throat, his co*ck twitching again at the sounds spilling from a pierced tongue. Pale lips kissed along a tanned jaw, a tongue tracing the sharp line before placing a brief but passionate kiss to Kurosaki’s lips.

“Why do you do this to me, Ichigo?” Grimmjow murmured.

Another hard thrust pushed all words from Ichigo’s lips as he groaned silently, his back arching off the mattress and allowing Grimmjow to fasten his thick arms around the human, hugging Kurosaki back. He kissed Ichigo again, stealing the rest of the vocabulary from his tongue as Grimmjow’s rough thrusts slowly morphed into an insistent grind of his hips, continuously pressing his co*ck on the ginger’s prostate.

“Why do you get under my skin so easily, Ichigo?” Grimmjow asked during their kiss.

When their kiss ended the boy still couldn’t speak. His voice and mind lost to unexplainable pleasure as his arms held the Arrancar as if they were lovers. Every time his hips pulled back the human sucked in a deep breath. Every time he pushed forward, striking his prostate over and over again torturously, Kurosaki’s co*ck jumped, straining painfully between them as precum drooled thickly from the head.

“Do you believe that I want you now, Ichigo?” Grimmjow whispered in his ear.

f*ck. Ichigo’s face was so red. He always looked beautiful when he blushed. Now he was blushing in his arms; naked and dripping with sweat and seconds away from release. There were still tears in his eyes when he nodded in reply.

“Good,” Grimmjow said, licking a pierced lobe and kissing along that precious neck, lavishing the bruised skin with his tongue, “I’m gonna make sure you remember how much I want you.”

He slammed his hips forward suddenly, ears ringing as Ichigo screamed and squirmed under his large body, co*ck throbbing madly as precum oozed from the swollen tip. Aching and eager, Grimmjow’s teeth sank deep into sunkissed flesh, snapping down on the human’s long neck and jaw locking in place as he rolled his hips again. Profanity poured from Ichigo’s lips as he came. His body trembled uncontrollably as he clutched Grimmjow in an iron grip. His moans vibrated through the Arrancar’s skull, pushing all thoughts aside as cum spilled between them. Only aware of how the boy’s co*ck pulsed against his stomach. How the tip spat thick spurts of cum onto their stomachs, soaking and smearing on their bellies as Grimmjow continued his thrusts.

Ichigo couldn’t stop shaking. The overstimulation electrocuted his body with every overwhelming thrust, the air being zapped from his lungs as Grimmjow chased his own completion. He could taste copper in his mouth. This time he really had broken skin. He wouldn’t dare let it stop there. Ruthlessly he sucked on the flesh, ignoring the exhausted whimpers as he bruised the skin until it was a haunting shade of purple. He was so close. When Ichigo fell limp Grimmjow slowed his hips to a soft roll, allowing Ichigo to catch his breath. He chewed on Ichigo’s neck gingerly, easing and tightening his jaw on the man’s jugulator when his hips began to stutter. He was so, so close. Grimmjow groaned, lamenting his current reality. He needed to pull out. They hadn’t discussed going this far. He would give anything to fill Kurosaki with his cum. To completely ravish him in every way and leave the human with a thousand reminders of what the Arrancar could do to him. He wanted to see every disgusting moment of his own co*ck stained with cum f*cking this brat. Hear every moan as he fills the ginger, licking his lips as it all pours out of that deliciously tight ass when he pulls away. He wanted it so damn badly, but that wasn’t reality. It was wrong. Practically forbidden to do such a thing. To violate someone in such a possessive way. It wasn’t his place and it wasn’t his decision. So ever so slowly he began to pull out—

A dark pulse of spiritual pressure burst from Ichigo’s body and consumed the room with greed. It burrowed deep into Grimmjow’s bones, electrifying every atom in his being before setting them on fire and filling him with heart racing adrenaline as Ichigo’s heels pushed on his lower back, forcing him back inside. f*ck. His sharp teeth pierced Ichigo’s skin when his jaw tightened as an earth shattering earthquake collided with the Arrancar and left him shaking. What was Kurosaki thinking? Grimmjow was trying to do the right thing. He never did this. Not to Shawlong or to Yylfordt—to no one. It was disrespectful. Defiling and emasculating. It turned a respectable person into an object. Doing that to Kurosaki would be invasive and humiliating. Predatorial and possessive. It was too much. Overkill. Weren’t the bruises on his hips and the teeth marks on his neck enough of a statement? He shouldn’t have even done those. They aren’t supposed to want more.

A hand cradled the back of his head, holding him in place as black nails continued to bruise his shoulder. “Do it,” Ichigo was panting, his body exhausted and slowly emerging from his high, but his eyes honest, “I told you to give me everything you have. Do it. Come in me.”

f*ck.

They’ve lost their minds.

Grimmjow came with a snarl. His hips jerking frantically. His large arms squeezing Kurosaki’s ribs. His co*ck pulsing as it filled Ichigo with cum, coating the hot walls with his seed. Just as he expected Ichigo moaned while his ass was flooded and stuffed, tightening on Grimmjow’s dick and causing the man to tremble. f*cking vixen. A goddamn slu*t. A f*cking blessing. An angel with demonic tendencies. Grimmjow released Ichigo’s throat, drool dripping from his teeth and tongue as he moaned and latched onto another patch of skin, rutting against Ichigo weakly as he rode out his climax, the human’s whimpering moans echoing in his ears and feeding to the electrifying high.

He rolled his hips slowly, grinding against Kurosaki as his teeth sliced into skin. Liquid splashed onto his tongue, the heavy spices causing the Arrancar’s mouth to flood from the wonderful taste. sh*t. He wasn’t supposed to make Kurosaki bleed. Grimmjow groaned and swiped his tongue over hot skin. He could taste it. Everything Ichigo was, all of it buzzing right on his tongue. His blood practically exuded a noble flavor with a dark twist of filth. Soul Reaper, human, Quincy and Hollow: good and evil combined to create a magnificent creature. Grimmjow eased his deadly teeth from Ichigo’s skin and moaned as blood coated his tongue. The bleeding ended quickly but the blood left an unforgettable imprint on his taste buds. Kurosaki’s blood was like a naturally occurring drug. Grimmjow could tell the difference between this man’s blood and that of the Arrancar. Grimmjow swallowed as he swiped his tongue across the seam where teeth met skin. He was the first to ever taste such a thing. Ichigo was one of a kind. Unruly power from all four realms in one gorgeous vessel—and Grimmjow was the first to get a taste. He could imagine the furious jealousy the Hollows in Hueco Mundo would feel if they heard of this. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the hated king of Hollows, devouring such a delicacy with selfish greed. All of it was such a huge turn on.

Fingers combed through his hair, pushing bangs from his sweat drenched face. Grimmjow’s tense shoulders eased from the gentle touch; his consciousness returning as another hand traced the scratches on his back. A tired, resistant grunt rumbled in Grimmjow’s throat when those tender cuts were disturbed by calloused fingers and a warm palm. Kurosaki was trying to convince him to let go. A low growl rattled in the Arrancar’s chest as he tightened his jaw.

Ichigo hissed from the pain, clenching his teeth in an effort to stay calm while his touch remained gentle. “E-easy, Grimm. S’alright. Just need you to ease up a bit.”

Careful scratches behind his ear drained the tense animosity from his limbs. There was no need to be possessive like this. Especially since Kurosaki wasn’t his to possess. His sore jaw became slack and he gingerly released the human’s throat with an apologetic lick. His arms unfurled as he slowly pulled out, watching when Ichigo’s face twisted as he bit his lip and groaned. When Grimmjow finally pulled free Ichigo released a pathetic whimper.

“f*ck. Now I feel so empty,” Ichigo laughed breathlessly, his fingers twirling Grimmjow’s hair to distract himself.

f*ck. It was worse than last time. Grimmjow couldn’t tear his eyes away from Kurosaki’s neck. Those bruises were almost pitch black and his teeth marks...f*cking hell there was a possibility they could scar. He had done some serious damage. If Ichigo were a normal human Grimmjow wouldn’t doubt that his bite could have shredded his windpipe or snapped his neck. Luckily Kurosaki was far from normal. f*ck. They had to hurt though. Why did Kurosaki want this?

“So…,” Ichigo’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes awkwardly bouncing from blue eyes to the anywhere else and back, “Wow.”

Grimmjow gulped, mirroring the nervous action, “Yeah.”

“That was—.”

“Yeah.”

“You were—.”

“You too.”

“I never—.”

“Me neither.”

Ichigo continued to stare at Grimmjow as if he contained the answers he had been searching for. Meanwhile, Grimmjow was finding it impossible to blink, fearing to miss a single second of this strange and pleasant afterglow. He still couldn’t understand Kurosaki. Bruised, bleeding, sweating and panting—the same way he had been five years ago and just as gorgeous. Lethal in so many ways. In all ways. Truly a god. A god that begged Grimmjow to f*ck him and come inside of like a goddamn animal. He could have anyone he wanted. He knew numerous people were in love with Kurosaki. Hell, all of Soul Society practically sucked his dick whenever they hit a patch of trouble. Three years without sex—for what reason Grimmjow didn’t know—and out of everyone he chose a Hollow. A god craving a demon. A Soul Reaper desiring a Hollow. A human lusting after a cannibal. It was unheard of. Completely unorthodox. Unrealistic.

Improbable, but not impossible.

“I’ve never...I’ve never had sex before without a condom,” Ichigo started slowly, his fingers twisting a lock of blue hair as his eyes nervously connected with Grimmjow’s, “No one has ever...you know.”

Kurosaki’s face turned an alluring shade of red as his legs shifted, thighs desperately trying to press together tightly as if to hide the evidence of their misdeeds, but Grimmjow was still in his way.

“I’ve never done it either,” Grimmjow replied. His eyes roamed over Ichigo’s body, the heart in his chest beating wildly at the state of the human below him. Red, bitten lips. Long hair messy and tangled. Sweat racing down his muscular body, the tattoo on his chest shimmering as he panted. The vast amount of sticky cum streaking across the human’s abdominal muscles. How could someone so angelic look like they belong on an 18 and up website that lonely losers use to get off? Although admittedly if Kurosaki were on such a site Grimmjow would no doubt become one of those losers.

Ichigo’s teeth worried his bottom lip as he looked at the Arrancar through his lashes. “I didn’t...I didn’t make you do something you didn’t want to, did I?”

“No. I definitely wanted to,” Grimmjow replied honestly, “Just never had before. It always felt...too personal.”

A light smile brightened Ichigo’s face, his cheeks burning an embarrassing pink. Utterly ridiculous. So, so excruciatingly dangerous. Grimmjow tore his eyes away, deciding to turn his focus back to the human’s body. He couldn’t stop himself from touching sunkissed skin, brushing his fingers over a sensitive waist and listening intently when Ichigo sucked in a deep breath. Next his thumbs traced the sharp curves of Kurosaki’s hips, admiring the bruises he left behind. He doubted Kurosaki would want to wear any type of clothing for a while. Even underwear would disturb the wounds. It would be safer for him to walk around naked. A sly smile flickered on Grimmjow’s face. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

Grimmjow’s eyes jumped back to Ichigo’s face, loving the way the human was trying not to squirm under his touch. Stupid and cute, as always. “So,” Grimmjow started as his hands grazed Ichigo’s thighs, “did I prove my point?”

Ichigo smirked and bit the inside of his cheek, hips lifting to chase Grimmjow’s attention. “Dunno. Depends on what you were trying to prove. If it’s that you’re a sex god in bed then yeah, we can consider that box checked.”

The Arrancar snickered and shook his head. Laughing had never been an easy thing for him. At least not genuine laughter. As always it was different with this human. Kurosaki really was something else. “Don’t think that was my point, Kurosaki.”

“Hm, well even if it wasn’t, lesson learned. You’re an excellent teacher,” Ichigo teased.

Grimmjow snorted. It felt weird to smile like this. Good, but weird. While adjusting his knees he laid his arm beside Kurosaki’s head, towering over the human as his hand roamed down a tanned thigh and squeezed that delicious, tight ass. Ichigo’s breath hitched and Grimmjow smirked. “You know what the point was, Kurosaki,” he murmured, leaning in to place brief kisses on plump lips.

“O-oh yeah?” Ichigo countered, the defiant tone in his voice vanishing when a finger prodded at his hole.

“Yeah. You do,” Grimmjow whispered. Without warning he pushed his finger inside Ichigo, his co*ck twitching from the heated sounds of Ichigo’s whimpering moans. Slowly he pumped his finger in and out, f*cking Ichigo slowly and grinning when black nails broke through pale skin.

“Gr-Grimm, I...I can’t,” Ichigo bit his lip as his face turned red from the wet squelch of Grimmjow’s large finger using his cum as lube, his body trembling as he was teased, “It-it’s too much.”

So damn cute. Grimmjow kissed Ichigo again, groaning softly into his mouth before pulling away to kiss and lick the tender flesh of Ichigo’s neck. Too damn cute.

“Grimm—.”

“You could never be a joke, Ichigo,” Grimmjow murmured against Ichigo’s throat, placing a final kiss to a dark bruise.

Ichigo clamped down on Grimmjow’s finger, his back lifting off the mattress as he emitted a whining moan and co*ck twitching back to life. “sh*t.”

Pulling on his hair, Ichigo lead Grimmjow into another breathtaking kiss as he rocked his hips in tune with Grimmjow’s thrusts.

Yeah. This could never be a joke.

Chapter 40: Welcome Back Complication

Chapter Text

He never wanted to wake up.

He never knew he could be this content with living. The expensive mattress embracing his body, cradling him to allow his muscles to relax and draining all stress away. His body renewed and peaceful instead of damaged and disrupted. It was like being reborn. How could humans leave something this blissful? Hollows never had the chance to sleep like humans do. They couldn’t sleep no matter how desperate they were for it. Staying alive was more important than being well rested and comfortable. Having the time and a place to actually rest without keeping one eye opened was a miracle. Here...he didn’t have to worry about that here. This world held numerous flaws and was far from perfect, but it was as close to a heavenly paradise a filthy Hollow like himself would ever get. To rest and recharge whenever he wanted. To sleep for as long as he wanted to. To drop his guard and exist without feeling as if there was a target on his back...how could humans take this sh*t for granted? He never wanted to lose this feeling—although, really, he knew it was never his to begin with. Like all things in their universe this pleasure was fleeting. The only eternal rest allowed to reach his grasp was a fate he wished to avoid for centuries to come. So finding his consciousness stirring and teasing him to open his eyes depressed him, as it would depress anyone, but all sadness came to a halt when reality seeped in.

When he saw what the world could give him.

Grimmjow hummed to himself as he turned his head. His cold lips pressed against a heated forehead, the simmering fire in tanned skin seeping into his body while enticing his consciousness to emerge. Slowly he mustered enough energy to peel his eyes open, first one and then the other, and gradually his blue eyes digested the world around him. There was only one thing in this world—in any world—worth waking up to and luckily he was laying beside him.

Kurosaki was in the same position he had been in last night when they finally fell asleep. Snuggled against his side as if he belonged there, his head resting on Grimmjow’s shoulder and his legs attempting to pin the Arrancar in place. Grimmjow smiled faintly to himself. This wasn’t particularly new. Ichigo had done it before. He was as clingy while unconscious as he was conscious. Nothing had changed, except for one little detail. This was the first time Kurosaki had slept beside him without any clothes concealing his body. He was always so pure, going the extra mile to be modest and concerned about other’s level of comfort, but now that uptight and prudish behavior was gone. Not even a blanket obstructed Grimmjow’s view. He was able to see everything he had done to the human. How completely ravaged the boy was. Bruises coated Kurosaki’s hips and claimed his thighs, stamping exactly where Grimmjow’s hands had been the day before as if either of them could forget. Hair twisted and frozen in a wild disarray from Grimmjow’s large hands yanking on every last strand. Dry sweat clinging to freckled skin and staining the sheets below. A complete mess. He didn’t have to look to know that Kurosaki’s throat was atrocious, too. He had seen it last night moments before passing out from, quite frankly, an extremely exhausting day. It had looked as if Grimmjow had choked him for f*ck’s sake. Probably hurt like hell. Yet Ichigo hadn’t complained once. Not even when he broke skin.

Grimmjow wrenched a tired arm off the mattress and reached across his body to touch the damaged flesh, brushing his fingertips carefully across the mutilated skin. The cuts he created with his teeth were already scabbed. A loud and bold statement that ordered Grimmjow to keep his hands off the human until he healed. Advice Grimmjow would gladly accept if everything else about the boy’s appearance wasn’t begging for Grimmjow to touch him. Incredibly long orange hair glowed in the sunlight, the vivid colors twisting over Ichigo’s sunkissed form and leading blue eyes down his naked body. That angelic body was still moaning his name. Scars wishing to feel his lips once more. Bruises eager to feel the hungry drag of his tongue. Every last freckle demanding his attention. That tattoo taunting him to prove who was better. The boy’s skin was a treasure map of bad decisions and filthy memories. Evidence of their disgraceful misdeeds from last night was smeared all over Kurosaki’s toned stomach. It was sad that so much cum went ignored, but honestly at the time Grimmjow had been far more invested in cleaning up what was inside Kurosaki rather than outside.

“Gr-Grimm what’re you? Ah! Gr-Grimm you don’t—you really shouldn’t—Grimm wait! It’s not...oh f*ck. ...Holy sh*t that’s...fuuuck.”

A wide smirk split across Grimmjow’s face as he licked his lips at the memory. Kurosaki really was the best goddamn pastry he had ever taken the pleasure in eating.

A soft sigh slipped past Ichigo’s lips and heated Grimmjow’s pale neck, causing the Arrancar to shiver. His fingers continued to trace the scabs on Ichigo’s throat, counting the ridges of his teeth as he did so. He loved seeing Kurosaki’s neck like this. It was all he could think about when the high ended after each mind blowing org*sm. It was gorgeous. Uncomfortably possessive for a Hollow, sure, but breathtaking nonetheless. Grimmjow licked his lips again and swallowed as his nail prodded a thick scab. He would f*cking kill to watch that bruised neck bulge as he f*cked the boy’s throat. Watch his own co*ck stretch that skin to its limit. Claim every last inch of flesh inside that tight throat like he had done to the outside. Just thinking about it made his dick twitch in interest. It would be undeniably sexy. It would probably make him climax in under thirty seconds. However, Grimmjow couldn’t even fathom doing anything remotely sexual for a long time.

Or at least a few hours so he could breathe.

There was a reason for Grimmjow’s disdain toward rejoining reality. He was well beyond exhausted. The first time they f*cked had been a few hours before noon. By the time they finally stopped f*cking it felt as if their bones had transformed into rubber and it was well past midnight. That’s what happens when a guy who hasn’t f*cked in three years and a guy who hasn’t f*cked in five end up naked in a room together. Grimmjow would call it pathetic but...hell nothing about what they did yesterday was pathetic. That sh*t was jacko*ff material that could be used for many millennium. Which Grimmjow definitely intended to use if he ever needed to. As for now he only wanted to create more material.

After a few more hours of rest, of course.

Ichigo sighed again and pressed his face further into Grimmjow’s shoulder. The man smiled in return and tightened his grip on the boy’s waist as he closed his eyes. He never knew his existence could be so peaceful. Humans had it made. For the moment, although brief, he did too.

A shrill alarm pierced the soothing atmosphere, the painful noise causing Grimmjow to flinch and growl under his breath. He hated that sound.

Ichigo whimpered as he was beckoned from his deep slumber. He rolled onto his back and blindly swatted at the nightstand until he finally struck his phone and quickly shut off the ongoing alarm.

“The hell’s that for, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow grumbled, refusing to open his eyes as his arm pulled the boy closer.

“Thursday. Got classes. Need to get ready,” Ichigo muttered in reply.

“At this ungodly hour?”

“It’s almost nine.”

“Point still stands.”

“Class still exists whether I show up or not.”

“So you don’t need to go.”

“Have to go. Miss information if I don’t.”

“The f*ck is so important to learn this damn early in the morning?”

“Grimmjow it’s only nine. But the answer is nothing. Just need the credits for my degree.”

“Waste of time.”

“And money.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Obligation.”

The resonating silence was deafening. It was enough to convince Grimmjow to open his eyes, although slightly, and peer over at the human. Kurosaki was thoroughly f*cked. Having sex over and over again until passing out did that to a person. However Grimmjow was more interested in the boy’s words than his own handy work. Obligation. Who would say that about their future career? That’s what all of this was for. Building upon his skill to do what he wanted for a living. If he didn’t want to do this then why did he feel obligated? Why wouldn’t he want to be a detective? Serving and protecting others seemed to be right up his alley. Besides, since when did Kurosaki do something because someone wanted him to? The guy was caring and helpful but he still did as he desired. Ordering him around was like talking to a wall. At least that was how it used to be. What the hell could have changed that?

“Why’s it an obligation?” Grimmjow asked before he had realized the question formed on his tongue.

Ichigo was silent for so long that it seemed as if the human hadn’t heard him. Or he had fallen asleep once more. Grimmjow was inclined to believe the second was true when Ichigo opened his eyes and parted his lips, but the words he had planned to say refused to leave his throat. The human was torn in two. Half of him was resistant to share information while the other was eager to flood the air with his baggage. Or more accurately, Kurosaki didn’t want to explain anything but his body had been trained to do otherwise. Grimmjow could easily guess who was at fault for this. Kurosaki’s friends were always prodding and poking at the human’s privacy. Surely they didn’t mean to upset Kurosaki nor did they intend to make him do something he didn’t want to, but they didn’t seem to understand that he folded easily to the will of his friends. It was sad how Kurosaki reacted to certain things. Questions about himself to be precise. The ginger was an easy to read open book and was probably used to his friends pinning down his emotions and thoughts and daily problems. He must feel as if he had no secrets. Like he had to tell everyone everything and keep nothing to himself. Those friends of his probably pestered him for answers until their curiosity was satisfied. A life completely without privacy. It was so different from what Grimmjow had. That was the only positive of being a Hollow; no one ever asked questions. No one ever cared enough to ask. If they weren’t bleeding or half dead then no one cared about what was wrong because technically nothing was. A life of solitude. Everything impersonal and miles upon miles of room to breathe. Kurosaki would never have that kind of privacy.

It had to be suffocating.

Grimmjow closed his eyes once more and rolled onto his side, draping his arm across Ichigo’s middle and pressing their bodies close. With one hand he gathered Ichigo’s hair and brushed it aside to expose that bruised throat; the perfect place for Grimmjow to hide his face. “You don’t have to say anything, Kurosaki. It’s none of my business,” Grimmjow murmured before pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s jugulator, “You can tell people to f*ck off, dumbass.”

A chuckle, one of those unfairly beautiful chuckles that vibrated Ichigo’s throat caused Grimmjow’s lips to fall numb. The sound was beautiful, but it was cold. Frostbite spread across the sensitive skin, the deep poison of such a dark and sad chuckle demanding pale skin to rot. He had never known that such a terrifying cold could come from someone as warm as Kurosaki.

“I know I can,” Ichigo admitted, Grimmjow could feel his sharp grin from here, it felt like a knife against his throat, “That’s why I can’t. Not again.”

Ah. This attitude of his must be the result of why he doesn’t talk to his family anymore. That was still the biggest mystery about Kurosaki. He knew the boy cared for them and Grimmjow knew that he hated being away from them, especially his sisters. Separation from family was Kurosaki’s definition of torture. Why it was self inflicted Grimmjow will probably never know. Although knowing the dumbass he most likely thought he deserved the punishment for some stupid reason that no one else agreed with. He was harder on himself than anyone else could ever dream to be. Grimmjow doubted his own cruelty could compare to Ichigo’s impossibly high standards for himself.

Obligation.

What a terrible way to waste a human life. Humans had a gift no other creature did. They had freedom. Despicable humans stole freedom from others. Unfair humans claimed freedom came at a deadly price. Broken humans said such a thing didn’t exist. It existed and they all had it. They had it as long as they allowed themselves to. Choosing what to do each day. Deciding what to eat and what to wear and who they want to be. Millions of opportunities at their fingertips while Souls, Hollows, and Soul Reapers only had one: to be what they are. Hollows suffered. Souls mourned. Soul Reapers killed. That’s all their life offered them. Kurosaki’s had so much more potential. He could use it the way it was meant to be used. Do what he wanted to do and see what he wanted to see. Anything otherwise was akin to destroying oneself. Hell, even Grimmjow had given himself the chance to live. He had no memories of his human life but he knew he had used it correctly. His exact age was unknown, but you don’t die from mere obligation. He surely died doing something so goddamn stupid that it cost him his life and even if it was idiotic at least he had done something. Living life how one wanted was dangerous. Obligation was the safe way to live.

He hated that Kurosaki was trying to play it safe. It was so unlike him. He wanted back that brat who broke into his home and beat him black and blue with his birthright freedom. Grimmjow’s lips brushed the soft skin connecting Ichigo’s shoulder and neck. The world needed the real Kurosaki back. This one was too depressing. A slick tongue slathered saliva across Ichigo’s flesh, goosebumps appearing against the muscle as a shiver shook the human’s spine. Before a word could be said Grimmjow’s razor sharp teeth chomped down on the sunkissed flesh, fangs slicing deep into the scarred tissue.

“f*ck! Grimmjow, what the hell are you—ah!”

The Arrancar smirked lightly at the choked gasp. No matter how many times he touched Kurosaki’s co*ck he still reacted like that. Air vanishing from his lungs. Toes curling. Fingers clawing. It was such a turn on to know he affected someone that much.

“Tell obligation to f*ck off,” Grimmjow murmured while kissing along Ichigo’s neck, ending his travels by nipping at the human’s jaw, “I want to have some fun.”

“Gr-Grimmjow I can’t! I have to...f*ck,” Ichigo moaned and bucked his hips, thrusting into Grimmjow’s tight fist.

“Well if you have to,” Grimmjow teased, his tongue licking a small trail of blood from a freshly bitten shoulder.

“Hah-ahh!” Ichigo’s eyes squeezed shut, wrinkles appearing on his straight nose while his teeth chewed harshly on his bottom lip, trying to keep his noises at bay. It was cute. Stupid and futile, but cute nonetheless.

“C’mon, Ich, if I can’t hold back then neither can you,” Grimmjow chuckled, teeth nibbling on a pierced ear, “You gotta live in the moment.”

Ichigo groaned a string of curses as his hands moved, one clawing the sheets as the other scratched Grimmjow’s arm. Either he liked the nickname or he was enjoying the handjob. Hopefully it was both.

“¿Estás disfrutando esto, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow purred.

“f*ck not this again,” Ichigo whined.

He couldn’t help but laugh. The weirdest things turned Kurosaki on. Apparently f*cking with someone bilingual was a big one for him.

“Maldita obligación. Juguemos un rato,” he whispered, breathing heavily on wet skin until goosebumps brushed his hungry lips.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna be late,” Ichigo panted.

Nails cut deeply into Grimmjow’s arm, skin turning red and tearing under the desperate strength. Ichigo’s co*ck pulsed in his hand. Kurosaki could deny it all he wanted, but his body always spoke the truth. He was already half hard just from a few strokes and a some playful banter. He really didn’t want to go to class.

“No te importa, ¿verdad? Toda esta charla sobre tus clases y tus calificaciones, cuando en realidad no te importa una mierda. Sólo haces lo que otros desean. Ser egoísta de vez en cuando. Toma lo que quieras,” he whispered, thumb brushing across a sensitive vein.

“But I need to go to class,” Ichigo argued weakly, his hand circling Grimmjow’s wrist.

“Entonces hazme parar.”

Ichigo whimpered and a pathetic pout washed over his face, “I can’t.”

Grimmjow smiled. It seemed Kurosaki knew more Spanish than he originally lead on. That, or maybe…

His pale hand squeezed the base of Ichigo’s co*ck, watching as precum dribbled from the throbbing head while his teeth tugged on a pierced lobe. Ichigo gasped, his eyes opening slightly to watch Grimmjow torture him. One eye dark and flooded with heavy, rich cinnamon; the other glowing a vibrant, electric gold. It might not be that Kurosaki knew Spanish. Ogihci could be translating everything he said. He was a Hollow after all. Spanish was their natural language. Besides screaming, that is.

Long, tanned fingers squeezed his wrist in earnest and tugged, encouraging Grimmjow not to let go but to pick up the pace. “St-stop teasing me, Grimm. Too early in the morning for that sh*t,” Ichigo demanded.

The Arrancar snickered and kissed the small sliver of skin behind Ichigo’s ear before saying, “Eres una zorra necesitada, Kurosaki.”

“Shut up and hurry up,” Ichigo groaned impatiently, pulling on Grimmjow’s wrist again.

He smiled. What a whor*.

Ichigo’s breath hitched when Grimmjow started stroking again. His large hand encasing every last centimeter of burning skin and feeling each pulse as he pumped his tight fist at a torturous pace. It wasn’t slow yet it wasn’t quick either. It was the type of speed that kept one on edge but never made them explode. It was worse than going so slow that he lost interest, or so fast that it was all over in an instant. It was the type of pleasure that never ended with no climax in sight. At the very least unreachable. The type of thing that would drive someone to the brink of madness.

“Grimm, please—.”

Another song poured from Ichigo’s phone and interrupted him. A familiar jingle that Grimmjow hadn’t recognized until he glanced at the glowing screen. Someone was calling his phone. His blue eyes narrowed. An evil grin cracked his face in two. Not just anyone. Ishida was calling.

“f*ck,” Ichigo panted, squirming under the Arrancar’s touch, “The hell could he be calling for? And why now?”

Because the universe had decided to bless Grimmjow with a very despicable opportunity that he wasn’t going to pass up.

“Contestar.”

Ichigo stilled as the insistent ringing continued. “Wh-what?”

His hand stopped, frozen at the base of Ichigo’s dick and halting all pleasure as he grinned. “Contestar, Kurosaki. Podría ser importante.”

“Grimmjow! I-I can’t answer it while...while you’re touching me,” Ichigo replied in an alarmed rush, his face turning red and his voice squeaky from slight panic.

“Si quieres llegar a clase a tiempo tienes que hacerlo, porque de lo contrario no voy a ayudarte a bajar,” Grimmjow said with a shrug.

“That’s not fair!”

“La vida es una perra, Kurosaki.”

What he was doing was cruel. Grimmjow knew that. Cruel and highly inappropriate, but hell, he couldn’t help himself. Not when he was blessed with such a great opportunity to be so awful. He couldn’t blame the strange urge on Hollow nature. His mischievous streak was a result of his own personality not his race. To make Kurosaki do something so disrespectful and dangerous—he should have his ass kicked for it, but he loved the idea of tainting Kurosaki. The boy already had a dark side to his gleaming heart. Grimmjow only wanted to bring it out just a little. Just to see a glimpse of who Kurosaki really was.

“Te estás quedando sin tiempo.”

Perfect teeth chewed on a plump pink lip until Ichigo ended his contemplation with a curse and snatched his phone off the nightstand to answer it.

“What,” Ichigo growled through his teeth.

Grimmjow shivered at the animosity in Ichigo’s voice, excited goosebumps traveling across his skin. He knew that anger was directed at him. Knowing that only made Kurosaki’s anger sexier. Even if he could hear Ichigo’s fearful heartbeat pounding away inside his chest.

“You sound grumpy. Did you just wake up? You know your first class starts in less than five minutes right?”

“I had a long night,” Ichigo replied, elbowing Grimmjow’s side when he started to snicker, “What do you want, Uryū?”

Kurosaki was trying to wrap this up fast. It was cute that he thought it would work.

“It seems you’re still not a morning person.”

“No one is.”

“Orihime is. Chad is. I am. Shockingly enough Keigo is too.”

“If you called just to chat about who has their life more put together than I do I’m gonna hang up.”

Grimmjow grinned. He loved the boy’s sharp tongue. In fact he adored Kurosaki’s rude nature. He hadn’t seen it much since the first time they met, but the Arrancar still remembered what he was like. Kind, but over all pushy and indignant as hell. Such a person should piss him off—and at one point he had—but now Grimmjow craved that attitude. With a firm squeeze Grimmjow started to stroke Ichigo once more—when long fingers ensnared his wrist and pushed his hand away, the boy’s twitching co*ck completely out of his reach. Okay...what?

“Calm down, Ichigo. I didn’t call to mock you or be mocked by you. I called on Orihime’s behalf.”

“Orihime?”

Was Kurosaki f*cking serious? That brat had the audacity to stop him? That wasn’t how this was supposed to work! A low growl rumbled in Grimmjow’s throat as he tried to take hold of Ichigo’s erection but was once again blocked by Ichigo tightening his grip and lifting their arms high, silencing Grimmjow’s objections with a glare. What a bitch. The deal was that Kurosaki answered the phone and he’d continue giving them both pleasure. Not Kurosaki answers the phone but Grimmjow has to wait until the call is over to touch him. It was unfair!

“She wanted me to invite you to her favorite coffee shop tomorrow afternoon. You and Jaegerjaquez.”

Grimmjow’s irritated scowl drifted away when he lifted a brow in curiosity. Princess wanted the Arrancar to join them? That was shocking for billions of reasons.

Ichigo was just as confused. “Me and Grimmjow?”

“Only if he decides he wants to come along. You know Orihime. She didn’t want to seem rude by not inviting the Hollow. Although I’m sure there are other reasons.”

Other reasons?

“Other reasons?” Ichigo asked as he let go of Grimmjow’s wrist.

Now was his chance.

“It’s not exactly a secret, Kurosaki. You don’t go anywhere without Jaegerjaquez except for school. You two are practically attached at the hip.”

“Would you rather I ha—,” Ichigo paused and slapped Grimmjow’s hip, surprising the Arrancar who jumped at the sudden attack, in an effective effort to stop the man’s wandering hand and not so subtle sexual intentions with a hard glare, “Sorry. Would you guys rather have me leave Grimmjow by himself without supervision?”

Grimmjow frowned as his eyes narrowed. What a bitch. He was too nice. Why couldn’t the bastard do something wrong for once? It’s not like Uryū would know what they were doing if they were careful enough. Then again even if he did figure it out Grimmjow didn’t give a sh*t. The bastard deserved it for being so annoying.

“I would rather he not be here at all but that isn’t an option. Apparently. I merely made an observation that you two spend a lot of time together for enemies.”

Grimmjow’s frown morphed into a scowl, his nose wrinkling as he stared heatedly at the phone in Ichigo’s hand and snorted. “No es asunto tuyo, idiota.”

“What?”

“Uh, nothing. I think you just heard the TV in the living room,” Ichigo replied nervously, scrambling to cover Grimmjow’s presence, “Anyways, what’s the invitation for? Do you know?”

“No clue. She just wanted me to ask because out of the three of us you tend to answer my calls more.”

A frown twisted Ichigo’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean? They never call me. Of course I don’t answer their calls. There’s no calls to answer. Why would they think I—?”

Another hard smack echoed off the walls but this time it landed on Grimmjow’s thigh, the strike harsh enough to force a hiss through Grimmjow’s teeth. The two glared at one another, Grimmjow baring his sharp canines while Ichigo’s eyes never waivered. A silent argument filled the space between them. Their anger and frustration sparking with the same tingling electricity resonating deep within the red handprint now evident on Grimmjow’s leg. Bastard. That sh*t hurt. Not the kind of pain that was actually harmful—in fact the sensation was oddly pleasurable for reasons Grimmjow really didn’t want to think about—but it was still annoying that Kurosaki had turned his game against him.

“Ichigo? What’s going on?”

With a huff Grimmjow pulled away and flopped onto his back with his arms crossed over his chest, grumpily glowering at the ceiling as he waited for the call to end. He hated that Kurosaki was always such a goody two shoes.

Ichigo smiled softly at Grimmjow, his fingers brushing over Grimmjow’s hip in a wordless apology. “Sorry. I just...get annoyed about this kind of thing. How can I be expected to answer calls if no one calls me? And since when are you guys scared to call me? I haven’t been an asshole as far as I know. At least not enough to warrant you three acting like this.”

“It’s not fair to blame them, Ichigo. You haven’t been cruel but...you have to admit it. You haven’t exactly been the most friendly person since….”

Ichigo’s eyes drained of their life and Grimmjow’s mask of anger weakened and cracked.

“Since I lost my powers,” Ichigo finished.

Those words hung heavy in the air. A crushing weight laying upon their chests. They both hated being reminded of Kurosaki’s powerlessness. They may be slowly returning now, but that hadn’t erased five years of excruciating pain.

“You know you’ve been distancing yourself. Orihime and Chad don’t even feel like your friends anymore.”

Ichigo said nothing. There wasn’t anything he could say. It was true. They all knew it was true. Ichigo had been pushing himself away. The reasons were unknown to everyone but Kurosaki himself; however,the problem still existed nonetheless. Grimmjow doubted Ichigo’s friends would ever leave him. They had their faults but each and every last one of them was loyal until the eventual bitter end. Except loyalty didn’t shield anyone from pain. They wouldn’t abandon Ichigo no matter what, but they could only stand to take so much. Being hurt repeatedly by the one you love is enough to shatter souls and strain the foundations of any relationship. That’s how Hollows were brought into this world, after all.

“Look, you know I hate upsetting you but I have limitations. You’ve been going through a hard time and I understand that completely but there’s no valid reason for you to treat those two that way. They think the world of you. Hell, we all do, but that doesn’t mean you can keep pushing us away like this. Do you know how much you’re hurting them?”

The silence was deafening. Whatever arousal the two had felt before had been completely demolished by Ishida’s needling words. The four eyed dick really knew how to destroy someone’s heavenly afterglow. Figures. Happiness couldn’t last forever. People, humans particularly, claimed that bad events highlighted the good to make life more vivid and colorful and that flickering happiness is gold found in a muddy river. To Grimmjow that was all bullsh*t. Poetic crap strung together with pretty words that distracted from their f*cked up reality. Grimmjow had only fleeting moments of what he could barely manage to call happiness and they were in no way highlighted by his damned existence. Happiness could be cherished even if it was all someone knew. Accepting misery was the lazy man’s excuse to do nothing. To let the world walk all over them. It was moronic. The only things in this world who were meant to have sh*tty lives were Hollows and even then many of them wouldn’t be pushed around. They formed families. Gained allies and friends. It was all they could do to stick it to the way things were. Every Hollow would trade a life of misery with only grains of content for a life bursting with happiness. Humans settled for so little. Grimmjow hated watching Ichigo follow the aimless crowd.

He had enough of this.

With an exaggerated yawn Grimmjow rolled into Ichigo’s personal space, damn near laying on top of the human with their faces a breath away, when Grimmjow snatched the phone from Ichigo’s hand and pressed it to his ear.

“Y’never f*ckin’ shut up do ya, Ishida? S’rude to wake people up so early in the morning,” Grimmjow drawled.

“Jaegerjaquez?”

Uryū sounded surprised. As if he had forgotten that he and Ichigo not only shared an apartment but also a bed. For some reason Grimmjow highly doubted that.

“The hell you doin’ depressin’ someone so early in the day? No offense—and I may not have much experience, but what kinda friend does that sh*t when he’s inviting them to an outing with other friends?” Grimmjow continued. His eyes couldn’t and wouldn’t look away from Ichigo’s. It was surprising how quickly he had adapted to the mismatched irises. Although human, the eye of a Hollow somehow seemed to belong on Ichigo’s sweet face. He wore it so differently compared to others.

“My intent wasn’t to upset Ichigo. Unlike you I actually care for him.”

“That’s a f*ckin’ weird way to show it, Quincy.”

“I don’t recall asking for the opinion of a Hollow.”

“Next time you should. Even a Hollow like myself can sense how insensitive you’re being.”

“As if a Hollow could feel anything besides hunger.”

“As if a Quincy could understand any form of emotion.”

“Alright, alright you two!”

Ichigo snatched the phone from Grimmjow’s grasp and slapped a hand over the Arrancar’s face, pushing him back with an annoyed scowl. “Both of you cool your f*cking jets. I don’t want to hear anymore bickering. I get it, I’m a sh*tty friend, but I’m not so sh*tty that I’m gonna ignore Orihime’s invitation. I’ll be there tomorrow. Text me the time, I’ve got class.”

“Wait, are you both—?”

Ichigo ended the call and tossed his phone aside, staring up at Grimmjow with pure annoyance written all over his face. Grimmjow’s brows furrowed.

“Whahff?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes and released the Arrancar’s mouth only to place his palm against the man’s sternum and roughly shove him back onto the mattress, allowing Ichigo to sit up and stretch his arms over his head with a yawn.

“Nothing. Just never realized that you’re needy,” Ichigo said with a shrug.

“Needy!” Grimmjow cried out incredulously, bursting into a seated position and staring at Kurosaki as if he had lost his mind. In Grimmjow’s books he had. Needy? Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is needy? Since when?

Ichigo’s disinterested eyes roamed over Grimmjow’s form before a little smirk tilted Ichigo’s lips. “Maybe jealous is a more accurate term.”

“Jealous? Are you f*cking sh*tting me Kurosaki? I don’t have anything to be jealous over! I have everything I want and need, so no, I’m not jealous. Why the hell would you think that? Who the f*ck could make me jealous?” Grimmjow scoffed.

Ichigo gathered his hair over one shoulder and started combing the tangled mess with his fingers, then shrugged, “Uryū.”

No matter how long Grimmjow starred at Ichigo those words could never and would never make any sense. “The Quincy. You think I’m jealous of that pompous, arrow deepthroating, know it all jackass? Y’know, I never pegged you to be a complete moron but now I’m seriously considering it.”

Ichigo snickered and tossed a detangled strip of hair onto his back as he continued his work, taunting Grimmjow with a grin. “If you’re not then why do you act so weird whenever he calls or we see him?”

“He pisses me off.” Grimmjow didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“So, because Uryū pisses you off, you wanted me to answer the phone and talk to him while you jacked me off, which would inevitably lead to me moaning and alert Uryū of what we’re doing. In a sense, showing off that you got a piece of my ass last night,” Ichigo explained bluntly.

“More like your whole ass,” Grimmjow mumbled, turning his head to avoid the human’s piercing gaze. This was getting...weird.

“You wouldn’t feel the need to show off if you weren’t jealous,” Ichigo reiterated, “I never pegged you as the type of guy who’d be insecure enough to brag. Jealousy on the other hand....”

Blue eyes turned back and glared at the smug human. “Shut up and leave. You’re late for class,” Grimmjow ordered under his breath.

Ichigo laughed, the sound washing a large wave of goosebumps across Grimmjow’s naked body. He couldn’t believe the human still did that to him. After all these months of living together and invading each other’s personal space and Ichigo’s voice still had enough power to trigger reactions from his body. Yet the boy’s voice had nothing on his touch. Grimmjow shivered as the deep lacerations across his back and along his spine burned at the vivid memories of last night. Yesterday they had been unstoppable. Swallowed in so much pleasure that time lost all meaning and the mere thought of trying to decipher where one body started and the other ended seemed sacrilegious. Each breath was shared. Each moan equally belonged to the other. Each curse and cry rolled freely from both tongues. All those hours spent in one another’s arms united them to the point that a separate existence was unfathomable. Kurosaki’s hands kept him from becoming truly lost. They grounded him. Their heat warmed his chilled body. The hard calluses teased his soft skin, keeping his senses on edge. Those black nails...those black nails were his undoing. They tore and sliced his skin like the sharp edge of a sword. Made him bleed as if locked in a vicious battle, the scent of his own blood driving him wild with a dangerous thrill. Kurosaki’s own form of possessing another’s body. It was parallel to what Grimmjow had done to the human’s neck. Those deep scratches claimed every last inch of his back the same way his teeth claimed Kurosaki’s throat. Thin cuts reeking of Kurosaki’s spiritual pressure and screaming ownership, warning anyone who dared to touch the Arrancar of a deadly punishment. The aching symbol of need and desire Kurosaki felt for him. It was a lesser form, but Grimmjow couldn’t see those scratches as anything besides marking territory. Being claimed and owned should terrify him...yet it didn’t. He was definitely apprehensive, just not scared. In fact it was the exact opposite of that. He was elated. Someone wanted him. Someone needed him and had zero intentions to share. Grimmjow had never thought anyone could feel that way about him. Arrancar, Soul Reaper, or human, it didn’t matter what he was. He never believed his existence could hold that much meaning in another person’s life.

Fire laced hands brushed across Grimmjow’s skin and caused the man to shiver and shake as he was pulled from his thoughts. Ichigo towered over him, having moved to stand beside Grimmjow’s side of the bed without the Arrancar noticing. One burning hand after another cupped Grimmjow’s cheeks and gently lifted the man’s face to stare directly into Ichigo’s mismatched eyes. Kurosaki was already dressed and ready for the day. White basketball shorts that showed off those lean legs. A light blue tank that highlighted the gold in both irises and complemented long orange hair tied in a high ponytail, the bruises swallowing Ichigo’s neck displayed without a drop of shame. Gorgeous and edible as always. For f*cks sake how long had he been lost in thought over those damn scratches?

Ichigo smiled softly and brushed his thumb over Grimmjow’s cheek, his eyes shimmering with an emotion the Arrancar failed to recognize but the Gigai’s heart reflected with a tight squeeze. “I still can’t get over how gorgeous you are.”

Why did Kurosaki always say such embarrassing things? And why did they always make Grimmjow blush? It wasn’t like he hadn’t already known the stuff Ichigo complimented him on. He knew he was good looking and he knew he was strong. He knew everything about himself. Kurosaki was only making observations. There was nothing special about that. And yet...there was something special about Kurosaki saying those words with such heartfelt and sincere emotion that Grimmjow couldn’t help but breathe them in as if they gave him life.

“Aren’t you gonna cover your neck?” Grimmjow offered lamely. He had no idea what to say in return, but he really wish he hadn’t said that. He didn’t want Kurosaki to cover his neck. He liked the thought of complete strangers seeing what he had done to the universe’s hero.

Ichigo’s smile widened, his eyes glowing with heated glee. “And hide your work? Why would I do something like that?” Ichigo murmured as he leaned in.

Grimmjow’s eyes drifted closed as the boy’s scent washed over his senses, drowning him until all that was left in his world was Kurosaki and Kurosaki alone. Perfect lips pressed against his, a pathetic groan falling from Grimmjow’s tongue in a weak attempt to beg for a deeper kiss. Thank the heavens Ichigo wasn’t cruel and mean like he was. A hand slipped away from Grimmjow’s cheek as long fingers carded through blue locks, cradling the back of the Arrancar’s head as Ichigo nipped at a pale bottom lip. Grimmjow groaned, his voice full of need as he took hold of Ichigo’s shirt and pulled him closer. His taste. His scent. His touch. Those piercings and his overwhelming heart. Grimmjow wanted all of this to himself. He made that desire obvious on Kurosaki’s neck. Maybe Ichigo was right. He was jealous.

How stupid. How ridiculous. How needless.

How very Hollow of him.

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow groaned into their kiss, trying with all his might to bring Kurosaki closer.

The ginger chuckled and bit Grimmjow’s soft lip one last time before pulling away. “Sorry. I gotta go to class.”

“You already missed it,” Grimmjow said with an angry whine. Why did Kurosaki have to leave?

“That’s only one of my classes, Grimm. I still have others to go to. I really need to go to the next one since there’s a quiz and my teacher doesn’t allow make ups,” Ichigo said. His thumb grazed Grimmjow’s cheek again before removing his hands and taking hold of the Arrancar’s scarred wrists, encouraging the man to let go.

Grimmjow’s grip only tightened on the blue shirt in his grasp.

“Damn your obligation. You can’t just kiss me like that and walk outta here like it doesn’t do anything to me,” Grimmjow argued.

“I doubt that you’ve forgotten how to masturbat* that quickly,” Ichigo laughed.

“It’s not funny, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow barked, eye twitching in irritation. Why did he find this jerk attractive?

“I know, I know but I’ve still gotta go to class. However,” Ichigo took hold of Grimmjow’s chin and smiled crookedly, “I can think of a few things we can do when I return.”

Grimmjow’s eyes bounced from Ichigo’s smirking face to the oddly close proximity between his mouth and Kurosaki’s pelvis. No way. Kurosaki couldn’t possibly be thinking…Grimmjow met Ichigo’s eyes again. Oh yeah. He was definitely thinking it. Face turning red, Grimmjow smacked Ichigo’s hand away with a huff and avoided the human’s lustful eyes. “As if. Get goin’ if yer gonna leave. I wanna go back to sleep anyways. You kept me up way too late last night.”

“Oh please. I wasn’t the one doing the f*cking. You were relentless,” Ichigo scoffed, placing his hands on his hips.

“You were the needy bitch begging for me to f*ck you! You wouldn’t stop tightening on my co*ck and kept giving me this look like you’d die if I didn’t keep dicking you,” Grimmjow bit back.

Unexpectedly Ichigo smiled again, content and pleased with himself. “Hm, I have been called a whor* before. Of course that came from some hom*ophobic assholes in high school, but, y’know, I guess they really weren’t that far off. It’s easy to be a slu*t for a dick like yours,” he said as his pierced tongue brushed across his lips.

f*cking hell. Kurosaki really was a whor*. And of course that only made him hotter. Damnit. Why couldn’t they cancel class just this once?

“Oh, while I’m gone do you mind doing me a favor?” Ichigo asked as he moved to his desk and started shoving textbooks into his bag.

Grimmjow lifted a brow. “A favor?”

“Yeah. Nothing big. You don’t really have to do anything, but you’re probably not gonna like it,” Ichigo said honestly, his face hopeful and anxious when he met Grimmjow’s gazed once more, “Goro...would you mind letting him have your body for a while?”

Blue eyes blinked. Goro? Why would Kurosaki want him running around? The Kaizō Konpaku was a flirtatious prick who hated the Arrancar’s guts. That guy was the living definition of jealousy. “Uh, why?”

Ichigo nervously adjusted the strap on his bag and tossed it over his shoulder, struggling to meet Grimmjow’s eyes. “I...I feel bad about him being forced to stay in that pill all the time. With Kon I had at least given him a stuffed animal body to inhabit while he wasn’t looking after mine, but I never thought to get Goro something like that. I know it sucks to be stuck inside a pill like that and...I dunno. I guess I don’t want him to be cooped up in there all the time. I don’t think it’s fair to him. When I’m out today I can see if I can find anything good for him, but for now...you mind letting him have your body for a few hours? Just until I get home or something?”

Kurosaki was a saint. Always concerned about the comfort of others. Always considerate to their feelings before his own. An overall angel. It was sad that he hadn’t realized how cruel he was being. If Goro were to take his body now he would be plagued with the knowledge of what they had done the night before. Grimmjow’s Gigai was drenched in evidence. Aching muscles and scratches across his back. Hair tangled and skull tender from the locks being pulled. The taste of Kurosaki’s blood staining his teeth. Kurosaki’s sweat dried on his skin. For Goro to see and feel all of that and to know that he hadn’t been a factor in Ichigo’s pleasure...it would destroy him. Grimmjow wanted to tell Ichigo all of this. Yet he couldn’t. It wasn’t even because Grimmjow didn’t want to seem as if he cared about the state of Goro’s heart or that he wanted to crush Goro’s soul with reality. Neither were true. He just didn’t want Ichigo to know just how deeply he affected Goro. If he knew the ginger would be plagued with worry. He would stress and tear himself apart trying to decipher a way to help Goro without hurting him. Grimmjow doubted that Ichigo would be able to see that such an option wasn’t possible. In situations like these it was best to rip the bandaid off without hesitation...but Ichigo wasn’t that type of person.

“I know you two don’t see eye to eye. You don’t really like each other and I get that. I’m not saying you have to stick around while he’s in your body or that he has to stay in the apartment, in fact you both are free to come and go when I’m not here, I just,” Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck and frowned sorrowfully at the floor, “I don’t want him to feel like an object. We use him as a tool to get you out of your Gigai and...it’s not fair that his only purpose in life is to be a body inhabiter. I want him to have a life outside of us. To be his own person and not just a pill.”

Ichigo had no clue that his words were as healing as they were shattering. Just a pill. Those words were unintentional friendly fire that could easily set the whole world into a chaotic apocalypse. Goro’s world, that is. For someone so kind and loving Kurosaki was shockingly oblivious to how easily he demolished lovestruck hearts.

“Alright. He can have my body for a few hours. I’ve been feeling cooped up for a few days anyways,” Grimmjow said with a shrug.

The human’s smile was brilliant as always. Brilliant and bright and dripping with a toxin designed to crush Goro’s soul. Kurosaki really didn’t have a clue on how much he affected others. “Thanks, Grimm. I’ll be back around five and then I’ll make us dinner. Any requests?”

“As long as it’s edible and not vegetables I don’t care,” Grimmjow snorted.

Ichigo chuckled, his hands nervously fingering the strap of his bag as he watched the Arrancar. He looked as if he wanted to say something. What that would be Grimmjow didn’t know. He most likely never would considering how Kurosaki dropped his eyes when a pink blush devoured those freckled cheeks.

Tanned fingers wrapped around the door knob and twisted the shimmering brass, pulling the door open with a quiet squeak. “Ah, I’ll get going. See you tonight and, ah, thanks again. For letting Goro use your body.”

What a wicked heartbreaker Kurosaki was. Uryū and Goro, neither of them had a chance. It wasn’t as if they could move on and love someone else. Kurosaki was the epitome of all living beings. There wasn’t anyone better and there never would be. Falling out of love with Kurosaki seemed like a mythical impossibility. Poor bastards.

“Don’t you need to take a shower first?” he asked with a quirked brow, “You’re...kind of a mess.”

Ichigo blinked, his blush darkening upon embarrassment. “A-ah, y-yeah. I forgot. I wasn’t thinking. Um, I’ll go do that now.”

Grimmjow couldn’t stop the light smile that grazed his lips. “You’re an idiot, Kurosaki,” he tsked fondly.

Ichigo frowned at the insult but stilled when he saw the smile on the Arrancar’s face. The warm pink on freckled cheeks turned a burning red as Ichigo avoided Grimmjow’s gaze and clumsily slipped out of the room, the sound of the shower soon following after the door closed.

What an absolute dork.

Smile fading, Grimmjow sighed and flopped back onto the massive mattress, blankly examining the empty ceiling above him. This was quickly developing into a nightmare. It wasn’t the shock of having sex with Kurosaki. Nor was it the way Kurosaki held back words that seemed important, or at the very least life changing. It was jealousy. Frankly, Grimmjow had no reason to be jealous. He knew this, and hell, a few more days of boning Kurosaki and he wouldn’t feel that way anymore. It was Goro’s jealousy that concerned him. If it came down to a fight Grimmjow knew he would win easily, but that wasn’t the problem. There was no telling how Goro was going to react to this. Anger and envy were to be expected, but what about after that? The Kaizō Konpaku wasn’t the type to let things go or let them continue. Would he take out his anger on Grimmjow? On Kurosaki? On himself? Whichever course of destruction the man chose Grimmjow should at least be clean for it. He was a smug bastard but shoving evidence of what he did last night in someone’s face wasn’t exactly his style. Kurosaki definitely didn’t need to look the way he did this morning. He was more of a mess than Grimmjow could ever be. It’s why he mentioned a shower in the first place. Although taking a shower probably wouldn’t do much on Grimmjow’s end. Goro was going to feel everything first hand soon enough.

With a sigh Grimmjow sat up and dragged a hand down his tired face.

This wasn’t going to be fun.

~***~

Silence.

Silence for hours on end. Lasting long enough for the Arrancar to wonder if his superior hearing had abandoned him. It was eerie. The complete lack of sound had always made Grimmjow feel uncomfortable. No noise from the unseen world beyond these four walls. No indications that anything outside or inside the apartment was moving and alive. He didn’t even feel like he was allowed to breathe, fearing that the sound of oxygen and carbon dioxide being sucked into and pushed out of his lungs would cause the world to fracture. Of course the world wouldn’t fall apart by his mere existence. He knew believing so was idiotic and ridiculous, but the heavy and dark cloud of angst poisoning the air stated otherwise. The despair dripping from the ceiling flooded Grimmjow’s throat and suffocated him, choking him with the wild emotions of a singular being.

Who knew such intense anguish could radiate from such a small, little pill?

Grimmjow had done as Kurosaki asked. Despite his inhibitions toward letting Goro take control he swallowed the pill dutifully and now suffered the consequences of following thoughtfully thoughtless requests. Although, what Goro was currently going through was much more gruesome than anything Grimmjow had ever experienced. Having Pantera reject him and rip his body to shreds for weeks on end was paradise compared to this level of torture. He had never seen the Kaizō Konpaku this distraught. The man was usually so loud, confident, angry and superior toward the Arrancar. Now he just seemed so small. Curled in on himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and knees pinned to his chest, Goro sat in the darkest corner of the living room; the furthest he could physically be from Grimmjow and the bedroom without leaving the once cozy apartment. Now it seemed to be Goro’s own personal hell. Pale fingertips dug deeply into the flesh of the Gigai’s forearms as Goro hid his face in his knees. It was pathetic. It was sick. To see himself fall apart like this over a human was disgusting. If he could stop it he would, but there was no way to end this brand of grief. A heart had to die out on its own. That much Grimmjow knew. If it had been anyone else who cracked the Kaizō Konpaku’s heart he may have recovered over time. Unfortunately, Ichigo Kurosaki had been the one to hold his heart in calloused hands and choked the beating muscle until it popped. No one could recover from such a brutal treatment.

Grimmjow grunted to himself as he adjusted his stance, his legs going numb from standing stock still for so long. Minding Pantera he leaned back against the kitchen counter and scratched his jaw, his thumb grazing the bottom edge of his mask. “Goro—.”

“Don’t. Don’t speak to me,” Goro said slowly, his voice thick and rough with bloodlust and agony, “Not now. Not ever.”

Grimmjow scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t be a dick. It wasn’t my decision to give you my body.”

The lump of limbs shrank into a tighter ball. “Why didn’t you tell him no?”

This was so pathetic. How could someone willingly place their heart into a mess like this?

“Because he was trying to be nice and I wasn’t about to f*ck up his good mood. The bastard’s been depressed for ages and now he’s not acting like a whiny, bitchy emo and I wanted to keep it that way.”

“Then why didn’t you lie?”

Why was he getting blamed for this? Grimmjow never told Goro to fall in love. He would never tell anyone to do that. It was suicidal to do such a reckless thing. Hell, falling in love with Kurosaki was probably far more deadly than falling in love with anyone else. A mere friendship with the human held enough power to bring unseasoned soldiers into war. Loving him could only cause chaos.

“You seriously want me to list all the reasons why that wouldn’t work? He probably wants to see you when he gets back,” he shrugged, not knowing the true answer himself, “Plus I have no reason to lie nor do I really care to. I’m just doing what Kurosaki wants.”

“Since when?” Goro lifted his head, blue eyes burning with a vibrant green glow that his body quickly adopted, his spiritual pressure rising and lashing out like whips, “Since when do you care to do what Ichigo wants? You two are supposed to be enemies but instead you’re fooling around like a bunch of f*cking morons! One moment you want to kill Ichigo and the next you don’t. You keep going on and on about how you’re special because you’re the only one trying to bring back Ichigo’s powers, when all you’ve done is brought back his Hollow and place his life in danger. What? Is normal training too boring for you? You’ve given up on Ichigo’s powers so you decided, ‘Hey, this obviously isn’t going anywhere, so why don’t I just f*ck him instead?’ Great goddamn idea, Hollow!”

“Back off,” Grimmjow calmly barked, his temper beginning to spark, “Training had to be postponed for safety reasons and you know that. His Hollow was devouring him.”

“You still haven’t fixed that problem either!”Goro’s arms lowered as his fists tightened, “This whole damn apartment reeks of Hollow. Unlike your stench this one has traces of Ichigo’s spiritual pressure. That Hollow is still taking control and you’re choosing to ignore it. Why is that? If training truly was your top priority then you would’ve done something about it instead of sticking your dick in the only person in the whole damn universe who doesn’t find you repulsive. What? Are you so lonely and desperate that you have to get some action from your enemy? Finally realizing that being an inconsiderate jackass turns people off and leaves you less options?”

Grimmjow’s fingers twitched, yearning to grab Pantera’s hilt and show this damn brat just who he was talking to, but he held back. Goro was hurt, and while Grimmjow didn’t necessarily care if he was, Ichigo would. He didn’t want to get on Ichigo’s bad side so soon. “I’m fully aware of the state between Kurosaki and Ogihci. There’s nothing I could do about it without placing Kurosaki in further danger. Not until his emotions stabilized.”

“You gave the Hollow a name?” Goro shouted in bewilderment. “And here I was thinking that you lost your mind when you said your magical dick saved Kurosaki from depression. Giving the damn thing a name is far worse.”

“I didn’t say us having sex fixed—for f*ck’s sake what we did last night has nothing to do with anything! Get off it! Humans f*ck each other all the time and no one seems to give a sh*t about that. Why the hell do our activities matter?” Grimmjow snapped.

“I dunno. Probably because humans f*cking each other is normal but a soulless, cannibalistic, carcass f*cking a human is pretty out of the norm,” Goro scoffed, nose wrinkling at the thought, “Nauseating is the better term.”

“Oh come on,” Grimmjow snapped, teeth flashing in rising frustration, “That has nothing to do with my mission or his training and everything to do with your envy—.”

“So now you admit that you weren’t focused on training. What’s wrong with you, Hollow? If you’re going to do something as shameful and deceitful as a pity f*ck you should at least own up to it.”

Was this jackass being serious?

“Pity? What the hell is there to pity? Kurosaki is the strongest person I know; with or without his powers he’s unparalleled. He’s bold and brave, determined and intelligent, caring and kind. He’s literally a stellar model for all humanity and I’m supposed to pity him because his life isn’t perfect? What kind of twisted logic is that? Welcome to reality, everyone has bullsh*t in their life. He can’t control his father’s decisions and it’s not his fault his mind doesn’t produce enough serotonin and dopamine to keep him happy, and yeah, he hates himself for stupid reasons and his friends kinda suck. Yet, I can’t pity Ichigo because he doesn’t use his baggage against others as a weapon to get what he wants. He tries to fix himself and he doesn’t expect others to solve problems for him; unlike you,” Grimmjow glared haughtily at the Kaizō Konpaku, watching Goro drop his eyes quickly with a pained flinch, “How long do you plan on blaming me for Kurosaki not giving you a second glance? You still think I’m responsible for your sh*tty personality? That I’m at fault for your life being awful? Bullsh*t. I have nothing to do with your existence. Don’t you dare compare me to someone who would take advantage of others because I’m a Hollow. My race doesn’t indicate that I would do something that goddamn disgusting. Using people ain’t my thing, especially not in a sexual capacity. I’m a monster but I’m not deplorable.”

With an ear splitting crack Goro’s fist smashed into the side of the couch, his overwhelming strength snapping the wooden frame with ease. Knuckles bruised and skin torn the Kaizō Konpaku’s fist continued to shake as the aching spiritual pressure swallowing the man’s form increased its density, the vibrant green darkening into a deadly poison. He was falling apart. Sluggishly suffering through the eternal stages of Hollowfication without losing his heart or wearing a mask. In a way this was much worse. In others it really wasn’t. A small part of him tried to sympathize with the Kaizō Konpaku, but he couldn’t. He was being childish and insufferable. A man who couldn’t stand being told no.

And he thought Kurosaki was supposed to be the pitiful one.

“I’m supposed to be the bad guy now? Between the two of us I know who has more value in this world. A Kaizō Konpaku isn’t much, just an artificial Soul designed to be expendable soldiers for Soul Reapers. We could never dream of being as strong as Soul Reapers nor as useful and we’re forever doomed to live inside a tiny goddamn pill...but at least I’m better than you. My kind protects Souls and humans. We sacrifice our lives doing so. Thousands upon thousands of my siblings died doing the right thing. Meanwhile, your kind slaughter and consume everything in their path. Men, women, and children, living or dead, all of them are your prey. You have a selfish existence and mine is sacrificial. My jealousy doesn’t make me any less of a hero the same way your so called morals don’t affect your cursed existence as a Hollow. A killer will always be a killer. No good deed can help you repent,” Goro met Grimmjow’s gaze with a harsh and steady glare, “That’s why I can’t stand watching you try to take the high road. You insult Ichigo’s friends, mock them for not helping Ichigo regain his powers just so he can get himself killed for a stupid, selfless, and suicidal reason. You aren’t better than them, Jaegerjaquez. You want Ichigo to be a Soul Reaper again for selfish reasons. You reawakened that vile thing inside Ichigo and now he’s at war with himself. You made excuses: he was sick, he needed to rest, or his emotions were unstable—and you still haven’t done anything since to bring back his abilities. You became distracted. When Ichigo finally recovered, what was the first thing you did? It happened right after he got in contact with that Hollow, right? Did I miss a training session? Are you suddenly able to use your powers in your Gigai and you don’t need me anymore? Or did you get another Kaizō Konpaku to help you leave your body? Tell me what the first thing you did was, Jaegerjaquez. Enlighten me.”

Grimmjow parted his lips to reply, but instead bared his teeth. Goro was right. Grimmjow’s first move wasn’t to train. Hell, the moment Ogihci came into the picture Grimmjow hadn’t once suggested training. The first thing he had done...for f*ck’s sake the first thing they did was make out, jack off, and Kurosaki gave him the best damn blowj*b he’d ever experience. Training hadn’t been the first thing on his mind...but Grimmjow wasn’t completely in the wrong. Yes, he and Kurosaki’s sexual relationship had developed much further than Kurosaki’s powers had and that fact was rather disgraceful, but that was only due to timing. Grimmjow had been waiting for Ichigo’s mood to change. The human had gone through so much bullsh*t in such a short time that, yeah, he needed a breather: a distraction or two, especially when dealing with a Hollow. Everyone misunderstood the concept and function of his kind. Just because they didn’t have hearts didn’t mean their emotions didn’t exist. In fact it was the exact opposite of that. The emotions of a Hollow multiply at a terrifying and destructive rate, but without a heart they don’t have an outlet. Instead of feeling simple sadness they wallowed in despair. Instead of feeling heartbreak they felt their world shatter. Instead of anger they felt murderous rage. Instead of experiencing a simple emotion they were tortured and broken. Kurosaki’s heart was already so fragile. He didn’t want to see it be swallowed by the greedy Hollow living within him. So he waited. He waited for Ichigo’s heart to settle and helped him push through the struggle as well as he could. He let Kurosaki vent all of his problems, listening to every word as if it meant anything to him. He gave advice even though he wasn’t sure what to do himself. He used his own body to distract Kurosaki so the human could exist without thinking for once. Granted, he benefited from the distractions as well, and training had fallen to the back of his mind, but Grimmjow hadn’t lost sight of why he was here.

Right?

A harsh snort came from Goro as he shook his head. “That’s what I thought. A Hollow becoming distracted by a human, and liking him nonetheless. What a recipe for disaster.”

Grimmjow jolted at the man’s words. “What the are you talking about? I’m not distracted and I don’t like Kurosaki, either, we’re—.”

“Enemies,” Goro continued, disregarding Grimmjow’s words with a disinterested stare, “I’m not impressed with that lie. Enemies don’t do what you two have done. You know that I can feel these scratches branding your back. Not a single drop of hatred resides in them. It’s all lust. The marks of intense passion and pleasure. His blood on your tongue. His scent on your skin. I can feel all of it. I remember all of it.”

Blue brows furrowed in confusion. Remember?

The Kaizō Konpaku lifted a hand and watched the digits tremble with steady eyes. “This body remembers everything you do. Bits and pieces of your experiences are left behind each time you leave it...and every time I’m forced to relive it. It’s bad enough to feel what Ichigo did to you...but I have to see it, too?”

Grimmjow swallowed tightly. He hated the Kaizō Konpaku with every fiber of his being...but the pain displayed on his face was excruciating. He had no idea Goro was seeing his memories.

“The way he looked at you. The way he said your name. The things he confessed and asked for...begged for…I’ve seen all of it. As if I were the one touching him...but he says your name. He f*cking chants it more than he breathes. It’s like some goddamn lifeline for him. I hate hearing him say it. I hate how he says it. I hate that he’s saying it to you. It pisses me off. It doesn’t make sense,” Goro grits his teeth as he clenches his fist, his eyes beginning to shine, “Why would he pick a Hollow? What makes you any better than me? Is it because you have your own body? Because you’re some egotistical, dangerous criminal that gives him a thrill? When you have this body he can’t stop looking at you, but when I have it...I don’t even exist.”

Now he understood why Goro hated him so much. Aside from the Kaizō Konpaku being designed to kill his kind and having an incredibly frail ego, all this time Goro was seeing the life he wanted for himself through someone else's eyes. He wasn’t just watching his nemesis and crush from the sidelines. He was sitting front row, watching his worst nightmare develop right in front of him. This was the type of sh*t found in those tragic romance novels that Kurosaki devoured and praised. The type of pain that caused a heart to grow cold and resentful, and eventually, blow a gaping hole in a human’s chest. Grimmjow brushed his thumb along the edge of Pantera’s guard. He hated this feeling. This rare moment when his chest grew tight and his tongue longed to spit stupid words to console others. When he felt like he owed someone. He shouldn’t feel this way. He wasn’t the one who caused the man’s pain. Kurosaki made his own decisions. The human chose who he liked and who he slept with and Grimmjow was merely along for the ride. Ichigo could have chosen to have sex with Goro instead of him and Grimmjow wouldn’t have cared or interfered. He literally held no significance in this textbook, unrequited love scandal. None of this was his fault...and yet he still felt responsible. He wasn’t the root cause but he took part in the brutal equation. Guilty by association. He hated that sh*t.

He hated having morals.

No matter how limited they be.

“Goro—.”

“You were a mistake.”

The foreign apology sizzling on Grimmjow’s tongue fizzled away as the Arrancar starred. A mistake? The Arrancar’s eye twitched while the fingers stroking Pantera suddenly clawed at his blue grip. A mistake? The word continued to echo in Grimmjow’s mind as his ears began to ring. He was so focused on that singular word that he could barely hear himself speak through gritted teeth, “Excuse you?”

Those hateful eyes struck Grimmjow with a harsh wave of animosity that pierced through his empty chest. A sarcastic sneer twisted Goro’s face as he snarled the words again, “You were a mistake. Do you honestly think this will last? In what universe do you see this working out?”

Blue threads popped one by one as black claws formed at Grimmjow’s fingertips. “What are you—.”

“He’s a human and you’re a Hollow,” Goro interrupted, ignoring the Arrancar completely, “It’s a sick joke.”

His skin was decaying. The black death crawling along his fingers burned like a wicked fire as they engulfed each digit with greed. His claws continued to grow longer and sharper, slicing deep into Pantera’s grip and causing the fabric to tear and fray. “Sick joke?” Grimmjow repeated through clenched teeth.

Goro took his simmering anger in stride, unaffected by the bloodlust tainting the air. “What else would you call this? A human and a Hollow sleeping together is the best goddamn punchline I’ve ever heard.”

His teeth ached. The strain of his fangs sharpening and elongating forced a throbbing headache onto the Arrancar as a snarl started to build in his throat. He needed to get out of here. Grimmjow knew the Kaizō Konpaku was purposefully pissing him off, but that knowledge wasn’t going to stop him from breaking Goro’s neck.

“Do you really think he isn’t bothered by it? A boy whose mother was killed by a Hollow doesn’t care about you being a Hollow?” Goro’s eyes were cold, freezing the air in Grimmjow’s lungs as realization struck him light lightning, “His blood belongs to that of Soul Reapers and Quincies. He’s bred to despise you and your kind. Sadly, Ichigo has a bad habit of forgetting that not everything with a human face is actually human. Sooner or later he’ll remember and when he does this sick joke will come to an end. So don’t get attached, Jaegerjaquez. You can only play human for so long.”

Playing human? That couldn’t be what he was doing...could it? Eating human food. Watching television and enjoying books. Sleeping in a heavenly bed and living under the sun. None of those were inherently Hollow. Those activities belonged to humans, but here he was, acting as if they belonged to him as well. Doubt wasn’t something Grimmjow had really ever felt before. Sure, there were times of uncertainty, but he had never been overthrown by doubt. Now he had. His mind was infested with it. Each little squishy, slimy, and disgusting bug wriggling deeper and deeper into his psyche and ripping out the core foundation of his confidence by shattering it. Goro was right. Kurosaki had limitless reasons to abhor Hollows and all subspecies of that race. Hollows attacked his friends and his hometown. Hollows tore him up from the inside out, screaming to take control and destroy his mind. Hollows stole the last few years of his youth. Hollows took his mother from him. How could Kurosaki not detest him? Either he hid it well...or Goro was right. Kurosaki had forgotten what he was. Could that really happen? Could he really forget?

Or was Ichigo faking everything?

The deadbolt released a loud pop and Grimmjow jumped, yanked from his overdeveloped thoughts as Ichigo entered the apartment with a tired sigh and closed the door behind him.

“One last semester and then I’m done with all of this. Graduation can’t come soon enough,” Ichigo huffed as he tossed his bag onto the floor.

His eyes met Grimmjow’s body huddled in the corner, then slid over to the other Grimmjow—the real Grimmjow.

“Uh, are you guys okay? You didn’t get into a fight, did you?” he asked as his eyes bounced back and forth between them.

“No,” Grimmjow replied smoothly, unable to say anything else.

Goro only managed to snort and grumble in reply.

The three sat in a long silence. The type of silence that chilled Grimmjow to his bones and encouraged his wild thoughts to race once again. Was Goro right? Did Kurosaki hate him? As enemies that was natural so it shouldn’t bother him if it were true. But if he did...why was Kurosaki hiding it? Why pretend to be kind? Was he trying to trick him? To deceive him and use him to regain power and then ultimately stab him in the back? Did he have some nefarious plan laid out to kill him before Grimmjow had a chance to fight back? Why—

“I can’t believe I’ve forgotten how much I love your mask.”

Eleven words. Eleven words and fourteen syllables was all it took to erase the chaotic thoughts raiding his mind and banished the decaying sickness from his fingertips. Grimmjow’s eyes adjusted back to reality and stared openly at the ginger who stood only a foot away. The smile on his sweet face was kind and beautiful as it always was. The lights shining in his eyes were full of truth and happiness. His lean body relaxed and leaning toward the Arrancar instead of away. Kurosaki always looked as if he were two seconds away from embracing him in warmth. Trick him? Deceive him? Hide the truth and hate someone? Grimmjow was a f*cking moron for even thinking such a thing. This was Kurosaki they were talking about. Not Aizen. Not Ulquiorra. Not any of the Arrancar or Soul Reapers or humans that knew him. Kurosaki. How could he let Goro get in his head like that?

“I wish your Gigai had it. You don’t look like you without it,” Ichigo mused honestly. Tanned fingers stretched out slowly, giving Grimmjow enough time to pull away or stop him—but Grimmjow wouldn’t. Not until he felt what it was like to have Kurosaki touch something so important to him, something so undeniably Hollow that doing so would banish all doubt from his mind. Those calloused fingertips brushed over the angled edge of bone following the curve of Grimmjow’s eye, drinking in the smooth, dusty white surface. Swallowing dryly, Grimmjow stayed quiet as those rough yet gentle fingers traced the outline of his mask, shivering when burning skin touched the sensitive flesh melded with stiff bone. When Ichigo’s fingers counted each and every individual tooth and a smile spread across the human’s lips—that’s when all of his doubt melted away.

Goro was wrong. Kurosaki didn’t care about what he was and he never will. Enemies or not, Ichigo was far too kind to hold grudges against a collective because of the direct actions of one. Unlike everyone else he was different. He was always different.

Ichigowas the only one who saw Hollows for what they really were: heartbroken humans.

Chapter 41: King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table

Chapter Text

“What am I doing here?”

Ichigo gave Grimmjow an odd look as he adjusted the colorful and thick scarf around his neck. “Is that a philosophical question or a general one?”

The Arrancar rolled his eyes before shooting the human a dull glare. “You really think I’d ask a philosophical question? Besides, the whole point of philosophy is to have multiple interchangeable answers for a vast, nondescript question that has no direct answer. That bullsh*t is annoying and wastes my time. I just wanna know why I’m going with you to this stupid coffee place when I’m not wanted nor friends with anyone there.”

His words were met with silence. Silence and a look of shocked disbelief that was almost insulting. Actually, not almost. It was insulting. Insulting and irritating in many, many ways.

“What? You think I’m too stupid to know what philosophy is?” Grimmjow asked gruffly.

“No,” Ichigo said with a shake of his head and his eyes sparkling in awe, “Too be honest I thought you were too dead.”

Grimmjow was itching to slap the stupid out of Ichigo’s skull. Sometimes this kid was a real moron. “I’m not that old, Kurosaki. Philosophy has been around long before I lived and died. Although I still don’t understand why people are so obsessed with it. Same goes for people who babble about what a glorious poet Shakespeare was when they don’t even get that over half of his sh*t was inappropriate sexual jokes and made up words. Good writing, but it’d be great if people stopped sucking his dick so goddamn much.”

His words had been hostile and biting, but for some reason they made Ichigo smile. He was such an odd human. Grimmjow never understood him, which was a blessing in one form but a curse in another.

“You’ve honestly never been hotter to me,” Ichigo admitted before placing his hand on Grimmjow’s shoulder, “But there’s no f*cking way I’m gonna stop sucking Shakespeare’s dick.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes as Ichigo laughed, the sound lifting the corners of the Arrancar’s lips into a smile. Although he was annoying, it was good to see Ichigo in such high spirits. He was doing so much better than...well, better than he was when Grimmjow first returned. Genuine smiles and honest laughter. Caring about his appearance like he had back in high school and willing—eager—to see his friends. Grimmjow was tempted to say that the human was back to his old self but Grimmjow had no idea what his old self was like outside of battle. All he knew was that this Ichigo was much better than the one from a few months ago.

“Ah, they’re already here,” Ichigo said, then lifted his arm and waved at a little round table in front of building smelling strongly of a sharp and heavy scent that wrinkled Grimmjow’s sensitive nose, “Hey guys! Sorry if we kept you waiting.”

Three heads looked up in unison. Two faces smiled while the third frowned.

“Ichigo!” Orihime and Chad cheered together.

Both humans burst free from their chairs and eagerly greeted the ginger with tight hugs and loving chatter, to which Ichigo reciprocated willingly and left Grimmjow feeling awkward and out of place. He now remembered why he came along. He couldn’t pass up the chance to get out of the apartment nor could he ignore Ichigo’s promise to let him pick a few music albums of his own from the store just down the street. Now he wasn’t so sure if it was worth it. It’s not as if Orihime and Chad were hugging him until his guts were flattened and mashed, but it wasn’t the most comfortable thing for him to watch. Although, glancing at Ishida did make him feel a bit more at home. He could see the venomous curses the Quincy wanted to spit at him burning in those dark blue eyes.

Orihime was the first to pull back, her hands still holding onto Ichigo’s arms in a concerned, mothering embrace as she smiled brightly at the ginger, “Ichigo it’s been so long I was worried about you! How’ve you been?”

“Has your Hollow caused you any problems?” Chad asked, his large hand brushing Ichigo’s bangs from his face to look at the Hollowfied eye.

Ichigo smiled and chuckled at the two of them. “I’m doing fine, guys, I promise. Ogihci and I are getting along and I don’t feel sick anymore. I think I’m back to being my usual self,” he said while rubbing their shoulders and backs in an attempt to soothe their worry.

It must be nice to have friends who cared. Ichigo’s friends weren’t always the greatest but Grimmjow had to admit that they had his best interests at heart. Of course finding people who were trustworthy enough to watch your back was damn near impossible; especially for Grimmjow. He never entrusted his life and wellbeing to someone else. It wasn’t necessarily a Hollow thing. There were Hollows that gathered into small herds to find safety in numbers. Then there was the occasional siblings and friends that died together and chose to spend their afterlife side by side—if they were lucky enough to survive and override the initial desire to eat whatever form of power they could sink their teeth into, including each other. A few Arrancar were known to find friends in strange places, too. Most Espada had Fracción, and while those soldiers weren’t exactly used as a means to protect themselves but to increase the devastation of their destruction, there was still a level of trust for protection that Grimmjow didn’t have. His Fracción, for example, were undoubtedly strong. Powerful soldiers he was proud to have fight in his name, but he would have never trusted his life in their hands. They weren’t his backup. They didn’t exist to make sure he stayed alive. Spreading chaos was all Grimmjow ever cared about. He could protect himself just fine and he knew they could, too. Fighting as a unit had never been an option for him. It wasn’t because of his ego or heaven forbid a classist agenda and superiority complex, he just didn’t trust anyone besides himself to protect him.

Then again, he did know of at least one person who was honorable enough to defend him. Hell, the bastard had already done it once before.

“Did you want anything to drink, Ichigo? This place has the best mochaccino. You seriously won’t regret it,” Orihime asked as she finally pulled away.

Apparently they were done with their pleasantries.

“Oh man that sounds great. Uh,” Ichigo’s attention shifted to Grimmjow, “Is there anything you’d want? I could probably find something you’d like. There’s coffee that isn’t bitter at all.”

Grimmjow shook his head and pushed his fists deeper into his pockets. “If that’s what I’m smelling right now, then no thanks. It’s like inhaling smoke,” he replied with a disgusted smack of his lips and wag of his tongue, trying to push the scent from his mouth. He swears he could taste it.

“Uh, guess I could just get you a water. Or I can see if they have soda. You haven’t tried that yet and it’s nothing like coffee. The smell isn’t strong either,” Ichigo offered.

“You’re not gonna stop bugging me about it until I get something, are you?” Grimmjow asked with a deadpan stare.

A shy smile lifted Ichigo’s lips, “Yeah, probably not. It’s weird for me to get something when someone else doesn’t.”

“You’re a f*cking nuisance, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow huffed, then rolled his eyes, “Get me a soda.”

The brat smiled too damn brightly. Grimmjow swears he went blind for a second.

“One soda comin’ up,” Ichigo announced.

Before he could move he was suddenly held in place by a slim hand and a very determined Orihime blocking his way. “Don’t even think about it, Ichigo! I’ll get them for you. I was the one who invited you, after all!” she said sternly.

Ichigo was gaping like a fish, “O-Orihime I couldn’t possibly make you...at least let me give you some money.”

“Oh pbbtbbttttbbbbtt,” Orihime continued to stick her tongue out long after she made the strange sound and placed her hands on her hips, “I invited you, I pay. It’s simple.”

“How about I get it?” Chad offered, shooting the princess an amused smile, “Before a fight breaks out.”

Orihime crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks in a childish pout, “Aw, c’mon! I’m not helpless, you know. I’m not a teenager anymore. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. Had my own apartment and everything.”

“I know you’re not helpless, but your outlandishly bubbly attitude might scare those employees again,” Chad chuckled.

“College newbies, huh?” Ichigo asked.

Chad nodded. “They really don’t understand the meaning of happiness anymore.”

Grimmjow resisted the overwhelming need to roll his eyes. They were all being utterly ridiculous. For f*ck’s sake, Grimmjow would just go in himself if he had money and knew what the f*ck to order. He was about to choke on their suffocating cloud of considerate friendship.

“I think I should go,” Uryū said, his metal chair scraping across the concrete as he stood, “I need a refill anyways.”

Grimmjow glanced at the cup sitting on the edge of the table in front of the Quincy. “You came to a coffee shop and got tea?”

Uryū scoffed as he pushed his chair under the table and fixed the Arrancar with a halfhearted glare. “You came to a coffee shop and got soda?”

Alright. Point taken.

“I’ll be back. Try to stay civil,” Uryū warned with a curt wave over his shoulder.

Grimmjow snorted to himself. Even a stranger could see that the Quincy was talking to him indirectly. That sh*t annoyed him. Why the f*ck wouldn’t he be civil? Grimmjow knew he was violent and volatile and disgusting for a billion reasons but that didn’t mean he was always like that. If there’s no one to fight and no reason to fight he wasn’t going to cause trouble for the hell of it. He wasn’t stupid. Besides, what damage could he cause while in this Gigai? The only threat he posed was sexual and Kurosaki was the only victim he had eyes on. Civil. Like that bastard even knew the meaning of the word. A little, black beetle skittered across his path and Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. The toe of his heavy black boot crushed the frail exoskeleton with a soft crunch, his ankle twisting side to side to grind the insect deep into the sharp grooves of cement. If Ishida started to treat Kurosaki with respect and didn’t manipulate and criticize every last damn decision he made, then the bastard could talk. As for now Ishida didn’t have a leg to stand on.

“How have you two been? School going okay for the both of you?” Ichigo asked as he pulled a chair back to sit down.

Grimmjow counted the chairs circling the small table. There were four. One chair for each human, but none for the Arrancar. Shocking. He shouldn’t have expected anything less, really. They weren’t a fan of his existence in general, so they wouldn’t be too keen on the idea of a cannibal sitting among them as if he was their friend. Why did he even allow Kurosaki to talk him into this? He was just going to be bored out of his mind and swallow every impulse to punch Kurosaki’s friends every time they shot him a distasteful glance. It was times like this Grimmjow wished he hadn’t offered to help Ichigo get his powers back. Everything had to stay in balance. Kurosaki’s friends couldn’t harm him, but he couldn’t harm them either. He hated it. He wouldn’t want to hurt them if they weren’t ignorant jerks—

“Here, Jaegerjaquez,” Chad easily maneuvered an elaborate metal chair from a neighboring table over to Grimmjow, “We weren’t sure if you were going to join us, so we didn’t get you a chair just in case others needed it.”

Grimmjow blinked at the chair being offered to him. It was exactly like theirs. The same design, same material, intricate and fashionable with a level of comfort that wouldn’t drive customers away. They could have just as easily made the Arrancar sit at another table, or worse, let him continue to stand and hover around their table like a damn servant. They could’ve been cruel—and rightfully so, but they weren’t.

“Thanks,” Grimmjow said slowly. He wasn’t really sure how to react in a situation like this. He wasn’t used to people being kind and offering things to him. Hell, the only person who’s ever done that kind of thing for him before was Kurosaki, and even that took some major adjustments for Grimmjow to accept without holding suspicions on the human’s motives.

Chad released the chair with a smile and sat down at the table once more. Grimmjow was the only one left standing. His eyes stared at the chair a few moments longer before he sighed and dragged the seat closer to the table—closer to Kurosaki—and sat down. A shocking shiver immediately shot up his spine, to which Grimmjow quickly smothered by pressing his spine deep into the metal back of his chair and crossed his arms in an attempt to hide the goosebumps teasing his skin. Apparently there had been a shift he wasn’t aware of. He remembered Chad, Orihime, and Uryū’s threats vividly. Their intimidation was surprisingly effective and impossible to forget. These humans hated him. They hated him for hurting Kurosaki. They hated him for dragging Ichigo back into a world he didn’t belong to just yet. Ishida hated him for reasons beyond that of a mere friendship with Kurosaki. He doubted that last one changed, but the first two must have. The princess, the guardian, and the god were all casting him gentle smiles. Wordless invitations. Welcoming him as if he already belonged there. It was weird. He didn’t belong here and a few months ago they believed the same thing. Now that seemed to have changed. It was odd and it made him feel uneasy, but…

But at the same time he was grateful. He felt at ease. Relaxed. He wasn’t a despised outsider or a man with a target on his back. Accepted.

The three had restarted their conversion again. Happily chatting about things they were likely to forget ever occured the next time they enjoy another reunion. Grimmjow had been left out of the conversation, an arrangement the Arrancar was content with, but he wasn’t forgotten. He knew he wasn’t by the way Ichigo stole a glance and smiled in his direction every so often. It held enough power to make Grimmjow drop his gaze to the table. f*ck. This whole thing made him beyond uncomfortable. Being hated and ignored was normal for him. Being treated like a human and enjoying it was far beyond his understanding and capability. It completely destroyed the true nature of a relationship between humans and Hollows.

“Ichigo has a bad habit of forgetting that not everything with a human face is actually human. Sooner or later he’ll remember and when he does this sick joke will come to an end. So don’t get attached, Jaegerjaquez. You can only play human for so long.”

Grimmjow’s nose wrinkled as a hard scowl marred his face. He hadn’t intended to play human. The whole point of him returning to the the World of the Living was to get Kurosaki’s powers back and either die at the hands of the only man he respected or kill the man himself. He never expected to sleep in a nice apartment and eat delicious food like some common house pet. He really hadn’t expected to f*ck Kurosaki either. Grimmjow was sickened by it, but Goro was right. He was playing human. Planned or not it happened. Now he was suffering the consequences. Kurosaki’s friends were starting to treat him as if he were an ally instead of an enemy. They were forgetting who he was.

Grimmjow bit the inside of his cheek and clawed at his pale arms.

He had begun to forget, too.

Humans and Hollows were two sides of the same coin, but there was enough difference between them to lose or win depending on which was chosen. Deep, deep down he was a human. He would never deny that. However, up first and foremost he would always be the dark side of humanity, a monster. He couldn’t allow himself to forget that. He couldn’t let Kurosaki or any of his friends forget that. How they had forgotten he’ll never know.

“Here.”

A glass bottle was set harshly before Grimmjow, the material striking the metal table just so that it let out a high pitch screech that caused the Arrancar to snarl as he covered his sensitive ears.

“What the f*ck, Quincy!” Grimmjow snapped as he glared at the human.

Uryū shrugged halfheartedly and sat back in his seat, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles in his clothes as he crossed one leg over the other. “You seemed distracted. I got your attention the only way I could.”

Grimmjow bared his teeth but said nothing in return. In reality, he was actually thankful for Ishida’s rude temperament towards him. At least one person here still hated his guts. That made him feel a little less lost.

“So, Orihime, what’s the big news?” Ichigo asked, taking a long sip of his drink and licking his lips slowly afterwards.

f*ckin’ bastard. Kurosaki wasn’t messing with him on purpose, but Grimmjow still f*cking hated that everything the human did got to him anyways. Of course, simple things like the brat licking his lips probably wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the bitch didn’t have a tongue piercing. Then again the human could just look at him and Grimmjow would feel naked, and not in the fun way. Naked in the sense of his chest being torn open with his soul stripped and laid bare for the ginger to pick and prod to his heart’s content. The bad kind of naked.

Granted, any form of nudity around Kurosaki was dangerous for a plethora of reasons.

“Oh, right!” Orihime chirped as a happy blush dusted her cheeks, her hand reaching across the table to grab Chad’s, “Chad and I are getting married!”

Grimmjow felt his own jaw drop in surprise. Those two were dating? Since when! Five years ago the princess was all over Kurosaki. Speaking of which, why the f*ck didn’t Kurosaki tell him about this?

“Holy sh*t, you guys! It’s about time!” Ichigo laughed, beaming at his two friends with full sincerity, “You two have been together for, what, almost four years? You took your damn time, Chad.”

“Actually, Orihime proposed to me,” Chad said with a light smile.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Good for you, ‘Hime,” Ichigo said, gently elbowing the woman’s side and lifting his eyebrows suggestively until Orihime started to laugh, the others soon following suit.

Grimmjow frowned. Something about this didn’t add up.

“Hey Uryū, why aren’t you excited like the rest of us?” Ichigo asked with a tilt of his head.

The Quincy smirked into his teacup. “You took so long to get here that they already told me. Try leaving the house sooner next time.”

“Aw, cram it, ‘Yū. We all know I’m not a morning person,” Ichigo snorted. He was blushing. He really was embarrassed about being late. Technically it was Grimmjow’s fault. He slowed down their shower this morning because his hands couldn’t stop touching everything that was wet with water and covered in sunkissed flesh.

“When did you ask?” Ichigo questioned with a sparkling grin.

He was really happy. Extremely happy. Was an engagement supposed to make someone that happy? Even if the engagement wasn’t their own? Or was he happy for different reasons? Grimmjow’s stomach flipped as a possible answer entered his mind. Kurosaki was a hopeless romantic. There was an endless supply of romantic fiction flooding the human’s apartment in multiple forms: literature, theatrical video, and symphony. sh*t like this would make him unnaturally happy. This was the kind of thing he loved to devour in his spare time. Something he undoubtedly wants for himself. Ugh. Grimmjow was getting queasy just thinking about it. Romance and love and relationships, all of it made him sick to his stomach. Dizzy, nauseous, and apprehensive to the point of wanting to completely withdraw from the conversation. People could fall in love if they wanted to. Grimmjow didn’t give a sh*t about that. Factoring himself into a romantic relationship, on the other hand, caused his body to tremble with electrified panic. That was he and Kurosaki’s largest contrast. The ginger welcomed love with open arms, while Grimmjow snarled, spat, and stabbed the affection to escape its suffocating grasp.

“The night before last.”

Sharp ears twitched at the words and Grimmjow’s frowned deepened.

Brown eyes caught a glimpse of Grimmjow’s scowl which turned Ichigo’s attention to the Arrancar. “Grimmjow, are you okay? Oh wait, you don’t know what a wedding is, do you? A wedding is when—.”

“I know what a wedding is, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow interrupted with a snap, “We come from different dimensions, not universes.”

“Yeesh, okay, man. You don’t need to yell. If you know what that is then why are you making that face?”

“...I was just wondering why she didn’t call you the night of instead of the day after,” Grimmjow lied smoothly.

Technically that had been a question on his mind, but not exactly the most predominant issue.

It took an embarrassing amount of time before Grimmjow realized that no one had spoken for a few minutes. When he lifted his gaze from the table he was slightly startled to see Orihime blushing from head to toe as if he had just confessed to his filthy desires for Kurosaki. Actually, Chad was blushing too, although not as severely, but was definitely avoiding the Arrancar’s gaze. Confused blue eyes turned to a freckled face. Kurosaki was grinning from ear to ear, his body emitting a toxic cloud of amusem*nt as he snickered and scratched the light blush dusting his freckled cheeks. Why the f*ck were they all reacting like that? It was a simple question. There was no reason for—

Oh.

Oh.

Okay, yeah. That made sense. Grimmjow didn’t understand romance but he totally understood what it did to people. Say a few nice words and you could easily get under someone’s shirt. Make an emotional commitment to a person you’ve been seeing for years...yeah, there’s no way that wouldn’t end with two naked bodies lying horizontally on any surface that wouldn’t collapse under their combined weight.

“Nevermind,” Grimmjow mumbled as he lifted the soda from the table and cradled the cold, sweating bottle in his hands, “I got it.”

The ginger snickered into his fist and Grimmjow shot him a glare. Good lay or not, Grimmjow had no qualms with punching the dude in the gut if he kept making fun of him and laughing at him like that.

“You’re awful, Ichigo,” Uryū sighed as he set his cup back onto its plate and cast the boy a disapproving glance, “Enough of that. Let’s talk about plans. I insist that you two let me help pay for the wedding. I have plenty of connections, all of which are willing to do whatever I ask for a chance at getting in my spotlight. Anything you two want I can get, and at a great discount.”

“Have you two even talked about where you want to get married?” Ichigo asked.

“We’ve discussed marriage for years,” Chad answered, “We have a vague idea of what we would like, but those were mostly hypothetical and not set in stone. Tastes change.”

“I think I still want an outdoor wedding,” Orihime piped up, the blush ever so slowly fading from her cheeks, “A garden would be amazing. Chad looks so handsome when he’s surrounded by flowers.”

Grimmjow allowed his consciousness to recede until his attention was dedicated to the glass bottle in his hands. The color was frighteningly bright and seemed to glow like hazardous waste, the bubbles trapped within glass walls appearing like the last few breaths of thousands of drowning humans conquered by a radioactive ocean. He’ll never understand how humans could eat stuff like this without question. It looked deadly. Fizzing with frothy poison and glowing like venom, acid that human’s willingly chugged without care nor concern to stop them. It was the same as this love business. Humans took love so lightly. They tossed the word around as if it had no power or impact. They loved objects, perishable items of no significance that held meaning for only one living person and lasted a single lifetime. They loved ideals and effort, kindness and actions that were repeated all over the world, across the entire universe. They loved animals, including creatures that were ugly, frightening, or violent. They loved things that weren’t supposed to be loved.

“I can’t believe I’ve forgotten how much I love your mask.”

Jaggedly torn nails scratched the smooth, glass surface while pale fingertips collected condensation as he watched stray drops run from his touch. Humans never grasped the weight of that word. They depicted the emotion as something to actively seek and share in movies and books. They saw love as a chance to live a giddy, carefree life; to exist without feeling alone. They didn’t understand its consequences. Love wasn’t fleeting and it wasn’t to be used lightly. He had seen what love did to people. Jealousy. Distrust. Betrayal. Humans collapsed under the strength of an emotion they had expected to be weak and easily controlled. They didn’t get any better after passing on, either. Souls held onto that love like a lifeline. An identity they used to show that they were still needed, still wanted, and should live once more. One by one that love would fade away, becoming forgotten and replaced. Those lovestruck Souls become heartbroken and lonely. The love they once held so dearly and praised now turned them into twisted, selfish monsters seeking vengeance and equality. If they couldn’t have nor feel love, then no one else could.

Love was deadly. That’s all there was to it.

“Ichigo, what happened to your neck?”

The muscles in Grimmjow’s fingers twitched. Those words weren’t meant for the ginger. Without raising his head he peered through his thick lashes at the one who spoke. Ishida’s deep, ocean blue irises burned into Grimmjow’s frozen skin with a stern, silent accusation. The haughty orbs weren’t demanding for the truth, they already knew the answer. Those eyes didn’t want Grimmjow to confess and repent for everything he had done to Kurosaki. They pulsed with a fire akin to a religious leader spewing offensive opinions that labeled the Arrancar’s actions as unforgivable. Ishida looked upon Grimmjow as if he had spat in the face of his own god. Light blue eyes flickered over to Ichigo’s neck. The scarf wrapped around that gorgeous neck had unraveled slightly and pulled away from the ginger’s throat, exposing a sliver of bruised and mutilated skin. In a way, he probably had. Although what he had smeared all over Kurosaki’s face was far more disgusting and demonic than saliva. Grimmjow’s eyes slid back to the Quincy, unamused and refusing to defend himself, watching with a cool, calm, and collected gaze as the man’s poorly masked temper began to rise. He wasn’t about to feel ashamed for having a little fun. Knowing that the bastard disapproved only make it more exciting. Besides, Ishida should be grateful that he held back to the extent he had. For instance, he could have devoured Kurosaki in a literal sense instead of figurative. He could have torn out that beautiful windpipe just as easily as he bruised the flesh guarding it. Ichigo’s spiritual pressure was everything the Hollow in him craved. It was as sweet and biting as his sunkissed skin. The energy’s scent heavenly and alluring, teasing Grimmjow’s senses the same way Ichigo’s fingers teased his spine. Strong and pulsing with unlimited power. If he were a young Hollow again, the subconscious and vile personality ruling his hunger driven actions wouldn’t think twice about tearing Ichigo apart and swallowing each delicious morsel. Although no longer young, Grimmjow was still a Hollow. That wicked personality of his was still there and the need to feed on Kurosaki’s body was overwhelming, no matter the form it took.

“Huh? Oh, uh, that,” Ichigo adjusted his scarf in an attempt to cover what had already been seen, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” Chad replied with a concerned frown.

“Chad is right. It looks pretty bad, Ichigo. Do you want me to heal it?” Orihime asked, tucking her long hair behind her ear, exposing a familiar blue earring.

Huh. Grimmjow could have sworn those used to be hairpins.

“Whoa, wait, calm down guys. I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me. It’s—.”

“An odd place for a bruise,” Uryū interrupted, his dark blue eyes studying Ichigo’s neck before staring at Grimmjow once more, his gaze electrified with jealousy and hatred and a small dash of betrayal, “Meet someone new, lately?”

It was sad. Both Goro and Ishida depressed the f*ck out of him. Two men whose happiness and meaning of life were tied to one man who hadn’t once seen them in a romantic or sexual light. It was a sh*tty way to live and yet they continued to take that path. How hard could it be to move on? If a man is taken or not interested you shove that disappointment deep down and find someone else. It wasn’t that goddamn hard. Humans just had to complicate everything.

With a harsh snort Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, “Shut up, Uryū. You know I’m not that kind of person. I got these bruises from training.”

It wasn’t the best lie but it was more than enough to change the subject. Actually, it was a good lie. A surprising development on Kurosaki’s end, but it fell flat because Uryū knew Ichigo was lying through his teeth, and with a smile on his face, nonetheless. Now that had to hurt. Being lied to when they know the truth was the same as being stabbed in the back under the pretenses of a hug.

Jealousy. Distrust. Betrayal. The three demonic descendants of love.

Uryū was a slave to them all.

“Training? You’re training again?” Orihime gasped with a large smile and excited sparkles in her eyes.

Ichigo had no choice but to smile back. Her smile was as infectious as Kurosaki’s. “Yeah. I’ve been feeling like my normal self so there was no point in delaying any longer. Ogihci has been a bit restless, too, so I figured some exercise would help calm him down.”

“That’s wonderful news! I’m so glad you can train again, Ichigo!” Orihime cheered.

“How far along are your powers?” Chad asked.

“I’m not really sure, honestly,” Ichigo replied while rubbing his neck, “I still don’t have a weapon, so not that far along, I guess.”

“You can see and sense spiritual beings as if they’re living,” Grimmjow said, meeting Ichigo’s warm eyes with cold blue, “That’s a huge improvement compared to when I first returned. Your spiritual pressure is at a level that can resist competition against stronger energies. It would hurt like a bitch to go toe to toe with a seated officer, Soul Reaper or Arrancar, but at least you won’t fall apart. As for your weapon there’s no telling what it will actually be. Your abilities are a combination of the three powers of our universe and all of their subspecies. The probability of having a blade is just as strong as having a bow or no weapon at all with an enhanced body; which is far better than being defenseless like the past five years. Stop selling yourself short, Kurosaki, it’s f*cking annoying. Just because you’re not what you used to be doesn’t mean your value as a warrior has depleted. If it did, I wouldn’t be here.”

This was, once again, one of those moments where he didn’t have to look at Kurosaki to know his reaction. He was smiling, but this smile was different from the one he showed everyone else. It was softer, gentle with a more subtle emotion behind it. It wasn’t sweeter or any more genuine than the one he gave his friends, just different. He wasn’t the only one who could sense it. Uryū felt it like a knife to his throat. A poisoned dagger that drained the burning hatred from his eyes and left him a sad, depressed, and heartbroken man. All these months and Grimmjow still marveled at how brutally a caring and pure person like Kurosaki destroyed others. He could only imagine what a monster the human would be if he did such things intentionally. It was times like this that Grimmjow wondered what the world be like if Ichigo had become a Hollow. That is, if there would even be a world after Kurosaki’s first pained rampage. The first hunt of a newborn Hollow was always the most catastrophic to the human race.

“Hey, Grimmjow and I are going to train at Urahara’s tomorrow, why don’t you guys join us?”

Grimmjow was immediately torn from his thoughts as he shot Kurosaki and incredulous look. What?

“Really?” Chad asked, just as surprised as Grimmjow felt.

A warm smile caused Ichigo’s face to glow and sparkle. “Why not? I haven’t seen any of you in action in five years. I kinda miss watching you guys kick ass. Besides, it’ll be good for me to spar against someone who isn’t Grimmjow for once. Gives me a little variety so I don’t get bored.”

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. Bored? Now the brat was just making sh*t up. The Arrancar was many things but boring was not one of them. He had proven that a few days ago and reiterated it this morning.

“C’mon, guys! It’ll be fun! Just like the old days,” Ichigo crooned fondly.

Yeah. The good old days. When Kurosaki still had his powers and spent every last second of his life sacrificing himself for others and nearly died on multiple occasions. I’m sure he was the only one who missed it.

“Well,” Orihime smiled shyly while twisting a lock of hair between her fingers, “I haven’t used my powers much since we graduated. It would be nice to use them for an extended period. I’m sure my Shun Shun Rikka would appreciate the exercise.”

Oh no.

“Same here,” Chad nodded, “I’m in.”

Oh f*ck no.

Uryū adjusted his glasses and brushed nonexistent crumbs from his sleeves. “I’m free tomorrow. Might as well.”

Damnit.

Ichigo’s smiledoubled as Grimmjow’s mood soured.

“It’s a date!”

Chapter 42: Entrusting Callused Death God Hands

Chapter Text

How was it possible for one person to be so gorgeous? Beauty at this magnitude Grimmjow thought to believe only existed in fairytales. An aesthetic the world aspired to and projected onto their deities and the desired appearance for partners: impossible and unattainable, a wishful myth. But of course, Kurosaki had to prove him wrong.

The boy was broken and falling apart, Grimmjow would never deny that, but amongst the chaos laid priceless gems and jewels any greedy bastard would kill to get their hands on. How he hadn’t seen this treasure five years ago Grimmjow will never know. It’s not like the boy underwent a massive transformation during his absence. His skin had always been blessed by the sun. His hair had always burned like fire. His eyes were always piercing and tearing him apart from the inside out. It was the same boy from five years ago, but now Grimmjow had finally noticed him for what he was; for more than just his power. A human disguised as a god.

Blue eyes watched tanned fingers brush through long hair, from orange roots to the shocking white ends, gathering every last spiked and wavy strand into a high, tight ponytail. Vibrant green hair pins held a cluster of orange locks out of the human’s golden eye as the rest of his bangs were fruitlessly tucked behind his pierced ear, only to fall back in front of his sparkling brown iris. Each and every one of those strands were spun from the very essence of the stars. They had to be. The shine alone from the human’s silky hair was so brilliant it was blinding. They contrasted the black vortex nails lining his fingers, the same ones that combed the last few tangles from the river of sunlight and moonlight. The same nails that had torn his flesh and claimed every last inch of Grimmjow’s back. The Arrancar had grown used to the sting of those harmless wounds. This body, his real body, now felt foreign and uncomfortable because of it. The mask and Hollow hole should have made him feel at home. Instead they made him feel incredibly lonely and...longing. Grimmjow swallowed dryly as he watched Kurosaki skillfully twirl the fake zanpakutō, expertly testing the blade’s aerodynamic limitations and strength. It was as if the man had never been without a sword in his hand. In fact it seemed he had been born with the natural ability to slay his enemies with ease. He knew it wasn’t true. In fact the first time he met Kurosaki he found his abilities to be woefully worthless, but his growth rate was beyond intimidating. Grimmjow had never seen someone gain power so quickly. Hell, he himself was notorious among Hollows for his ability of speedy development, but he had to acknowledge that he had limitations. Everyone did; everyone except Kurosaki. For f*ck’s sake, the kid intended to fight in the world’s tightest pair of skinny jeans and an equally suffocating shirt with full confidence that the restrictive material would not hinder his abilities at all. That, or he was trying to distract his opponent. If he was, it was working.

Grimmjow’s eyes devoured the tantalizing sight before him with unquenchable greed. He had come to the conclusion that v-neck shirts were a f*cking blessing. This one in particular was a gift from the heavens. The cotton was as dark as Kurosaki’s nails. The type of black that hugged the human’s figure in all the right places and emitted a dangerously sexy vibe that squeezed the air from Grimmjow’s lungs, suffocating Kurosaki’s shapely figure until Grimmjow was sure one or both of them were going to pop. The plunging collar of the shirt flashing tanned skin—and white as well, the deformed heart in his chest still large and present, and the lack of sleeves made it easy for Grimmjow to devour naked flesh. Those jeans weren’t any better. In fact, they were far worse. The shirt placed emphasis on the muscle within the ginger’s arms and his thin waist, but those jeans made sure Grimmjow noticed his wide hips, toned thighs, and the mouthwatering curve of his ass and bulge in front of his pants. Was it possible to be a grower and a shower? Because that’s exactly what Kurosaki was. Now definitely wasn’t the time to be daydreaming about Kurosaki’s co*ck, but hell it was right there. Not to mention the need to have that thing in his mouth was still very alive and desperate. He knew they should’ve f*cked this morning or at least the night before. It was going to be impossible to compartmentalize his lust for Kurosaki’s body while satisfying his lust for fighting with Kurosaki. Maybe they could push this off until another time. They could go to Kurosaki’s car and...no. There wouldn’t be enough room for that. The thing was falling apart anyways. Maybe they could just go home, although that would take three hours and Grimmjow doubted he could wait that long. Or they could—

A sharp whistle of air pulled Grimmjow from his thoughts as Ichigo struck an invisible enemy with his sword, halting the blade before it could sink into the dusty ground.

“As expected it’s high quality. He can be an ass, but when it comes down to it Urahara is a genius,” Ichigo praised as he lifted the sword and inspected the sharp edge, “He said this sword will be able to handle your spiritual pressure when I can’t. It won’t shatter like normal unnamed zanpakutō. In other words, we can go all out.”

That gorgeous smile always made Grimmjow eager to return it, but he couldn’t. Not this time. Although no longer sick, Kurosaki was still fairly weak. Grimmjow doubted they could fight for more than a few hours—and that’s if they took things slowly. He should warn Kurosaki of this, tell him that they had to take things at a steady pace the ginger seemed to distaste, but he couldn’t. He was just getting used to seeing those mile wide genuine smiles. He didn’t want to lose them so quickly.

“Why did you request Urahara to make you a weapon? We should technically still work on exercising your spiritual pressure; pick up where we left off,” Grimmjow said as he thumbed Pantera’s humming guard. Pantera wanted to fight as much as Ichigo did, but Grimmjow knew they shouldn’t. His blue eyes slipped down to the throbbing white mass protruding from Kurosaki’s chest. He didn’t want to risk Kurosaki’s health any more than he already had.

“Honestly, I’m not really in the mood for spiritual training,” Ichigo mused as he lowered the blade to his side and looked up at Grimmjow through thick lashes, “I wanted to do something more physical.”

A shiver engulfed Grimmjow’s spine and the man toshook goosebumps free from his arms. Had Kurosaki intended for his words to be an invitation to come and get it rather than to shed blood? If so, Grimmjow wasn’t against it. Hell, he encouraged it. He would honestly rather cut Ichigo’s skin with his teeth than Pantera’s claws.

“There’s other things we could’ve done if ya wanted to get physical, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said with a grin.

Ichigo smiled softly in reply, amused, but his eyes were dark and full of a strange, deadly hostility. “None of which would give me the upper hand.”

He couldn’t help but arch his brow, “Upper hand? You think you have the upper hand here? No offense, but you’re making up for five years of inactivity; during which I trained mercilessly to kick your ass. You don’t have the upper hand.”

Grimmjow only liked that damn smirk when it wasn’t pointed at him. Sometimes he forgot that deep down underneath that smiling exterior resided a co*cky bitch that desperately deserved to be smacked.

“Tch, fine, think whatever you want, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow scoffed as he slowly withdrew Pantera from his sheath and held the zanpakutō with silent pride, “I’ll beat reality into you soon enough.”

Ichigo’s smirk stretched impossibly wide. “You’re so easy to goad, Grimm.”

He shouldn’t have rolled his eyes, but he did. It was a mistake. That split second was all the time Ichigo needed to appear before him, sword held high above his head and being brought down with immeasurable strength. Grimmjow raise Pantera just in time to block the blow, his eyes blown wide as he stared at the grinning ginger. A black pupil bedded in an ocean of gold shrank to a miniscule pinpoint as spiritual pressure burst from Kurosaki’s lean body, familiar black and red flames consuming it ravenously. Ichigo’s strength overwhelmed him, pushing him down until his knees began to quake. Snarling under his breath Grimmjow shifted his stance to steady his knees and pushed back. Ichigo’s smile doubled.Their swords slid, the metal singing as their blades narrowly missed each other’s bodies, Ichigo’s blade striking the ground as Grimmjow’s pierced the air.

“C’mon, Grimm,” Ichigo purred, “You better start beating reality into me or I’m gonna start thinking that the only thing you can beat is…well....”

Grimmjow’s brow furrowed, looking past the ginger’s smug mug and following the mismatched gaze down to his own...that bastard.

“You’re dead, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow hissed.

A waterfall of laughter poured from Ichigo’s tongue, the sound overpowering with a sharp, cold edge Grimmjow had never heard before. The laughter wasn’t familiar—the cruelty of it, that is—but Grimmjow recognized the tone and the spiritual pressure. Ogihci was getting rambunctious. Kurosaki hadn’t been kidding when he said he believed training would help calm the Hollow down. It seemed like he needed it. Grimmjow was thrilled tolearn that Ogihci was not only willing but eager to help fuel Kurosaki’s power. Ichigo may not be able to control him, but at least he won’t be completely helpless.

“Bring it, Jaegerjaquez,” Ichigo chuckled, his eyes flashing red as he took a step back and readied his sword. “Thrill me.”

Sparks showered the ground and singed their skin as their swords clashed once more, then again and again and again until they both wore smiles that split their faces in two. Until the dust surrounding them circled and scattered and left them standing on hard rock alone. With each jab and swing they narrowly missed carving into each other’s bodies, their violent rhythm rapidly gaining speed until Grimmjow realized that he was using Sonído—and Kurosaki was, too. If Grimmjow had a heart he was sure it would be soaring to the point of explosion. It was almost as if everything were back to normal. The sweat dripping down their temples. The adrenaline conquering their veins, muscles burning with every move made. Their spiritual pressure clashing and swarming and merging together to create another form of death. Just like it had been five years ago. Except...their battle wasn’t serious. It wasn’t supposed to be, he knew that. They were only training, after all, there was no need to attempt actual physical harm. Yet, at the same time...this wasn’t as serious as it should be. It was playful. Meant for fun, not to build and hone skills. Every action they took, no matter how violent it seemed, reeked of joyful teasing instead of murderous intent. Mere actors reenacting a violent and dramatic battle. Children pretending to be fabled tragic heros with their friends. They could easily cause harm if they chose to and their weapons were able to pierce skin, but all he could compare this moment to was a staged battle meant to amuse, each move scripted and known by heart by both men. Grimmjow’s blade narrowly missed a bruised throat; Ichigo’s wild eyes sparkled. A ritual instead of a battle. Ichigo’s sword sliced a few strands of blue hair; Grimmjow’s lips ached from the strain of his smile. A dance instead of murder.

Ichigostartedto advance, his attacks growing fierce and fast to place Grimmjow on defense. He wasn’t a moron. He knew Kurosaki was trying to corner him. Each thrust of that fake, pathetic excuse of a zanpakutō pushed him back step by step, herding the Arrancar into a tight space that would surely grant Kurosaki victory. The plan was painfully obvious. So obvious that Grimmjow should have known that Kurosaki had a second, less predictable trick up his sleeve. Of course he grew tired of blocking blows and retreating without a fight. Offense was more his game. When he found an opening he took it, and fell right into Kurosaki’s trap. He stabbed the small empty space just above Kurosaki’s shoulder, but the blood curdling grin consuming his face vanished as a calloused hand snatched his wrist in an iron grip and yanked him forward. The last thing he saw was Ichigo’s co*cky smile before stars and darkness shrouded his vision from a headache inducing headbutt. Damnit! Just as he had last time, his grip on Pantera loosened, allowing Ichigo to grab the hilt and wrench the sword free as he planted a foot on Grimmjow’s stomach—just above the Hollow hole—and kicked him into the large rock wall behind him.

A snarl burst from Grimmjow’s lips as he bared his teeth, seething with anger when sharp rocks cut into his back as a Bala fizzled on the surface of his fist. He didn’t want to kill Kurosaki—not yet—but he wasn’t going to allow himself to be pushed around either. A Bala wouldn’t kill him, just remind Kurosaki who the f*ck he was dealing with. The Bala grew, spitting violent sparks as his anger festered and aged. He was an ex-Espada. An Arrancar. A King. Superior—

Sharp silver, one burning and the other frozen cold, sliced through the first layer of skin on his neck, his breath hitching when two gleaming swords were placed at his throat, one blade resting on top of the other in a deadly X configuration. The muscles in his jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed. There was no way to escape. All possible routes were obstructed by deadly weapons threatening to remove his head and drain his blood. He understood his own blade well enough to know that Pantera wouldn’t think twice about slaying his own master. Grimmjow expected nothing less from the manifested form of his own power, his own soul. Pantera wouldn’t allow anything to stand in his way, not even himself.

“Put the Bala away, Grimm.” Ichigo’s face had grown grim and serious. His eyes were dark and lacked their usual fire, the smile he wore before nowhere to be found.

He was trapped in Kurosaki’s grasp, caught in the human’s twisted game, and there was no way to get out of it. All he could do was play along and obey. That reality made his skin itch. With a scowl Grimmjow did as told, shaking the energy free from his hand. Ichigo smiled again, his brown eye bursting with life as the wicked spiritual pressure encasing his body vanished. It seemed Ogihci was backing off for a bit. Kurosaki wasn’t. Grimmjow tilted his head back and pressed his body closer to the rock behind him as Ichigo leaned in, their blades nearly freeing blood from his veins.

“I won’t lie to you. There’s something about this that’s so...intoxicating,” Ichigo murmured, pausing to lick his lips, one of his lesser nervous ticks, “Pushing you into a corner. Leaving you weaponless...defenseless...completely at my mercy.”

Grimmjow’s scowl deepened. So this is what he meant by upper hand. Ichigo never intended to beat him in a battle. He wanted to overwhelm him. He wanted to control him, if for a brief moment. He wanted—

“To dominate me,” Grimmjow finished out loud.

The human gulped as his eyes dropped and nodded his head, looking rather submissive despite the situation. He was ashamed of himself. Ashamed of his desires for something so carnal and uncivilized—a selfish yearning. Grimmjow’s brow twitched. He should have felt disgusted by the thought. He, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, dominated by someone with hardly any powers and no zanpakutō of his own? Laughable. A sad example of dry humor with a weak punch line. Except neither of them were laughing and it wasn’t a joke. Kurosaki was completely serious. He wanted Grimmjow beneath him, at his mercy, the same way the Arrancar had done to him. He had hypothesized that Kurosaki wanted this, to be in control, but he never really thought the ginger would make an attempt. Quite frankly he figured the human would be too chicken to voice his lust for strength and power in the other aspect of his life. He was a person who lived to give instead of take. As for Grimmjow...it was almost impossible to repress the shiver that shot down his spine. To tell the truth, he was disgusted by the thought of having no power, no control. It left a horrible taste on his tongue. A poisonous flavor that he wished he could spit free and abandon because at the same time he could feel his body yearning for Kurosaki’s touch. Desperate to feel those burning hands brand his skin as they tease his body and did as they pleased. It was pure fantasy. It could be nothing more than fantasy. No matter how much he, or Kurosaki, wanted it, he couldn’t let it happen. Kurosaki was his enemy. He couldn’t trust anyone with that much control. There was too much vulnerability. Too many ways to get hurt.

Grimmjow flinched as the flat side of Pantera brushed across his cold, pale skin, his own blade nipping at his collarbone as Ichigo used the zanpakutō to open Grimmjow’s jacket and expose his muscular shoulder. “It wouldn’t be that bad, would it?” Ichigo asked, his eyes distant. Pantera sank deep into the rock behind Grimmjow, pinning his jacket open above the Arrancar’s shoulder. When the slim hand withdrew from the hilt, tanned fingers releasing the tight grip on Grimmjow’s soul, the Arrancar took hold of Ichigo’s wrist, grasping the man tightly.

“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow warned, trying to mask how his breath stuttered with a hard glare. This was dangerous; to be cornered and pinned with no escape. His mind should be scrambling to find an alternative counter or escape route. His anger should overtake his voice to throw insults and threats as if they were gold and the human a beggar. His instincts should overthrow his logic, or lack thereof, and rescue him from this risky situation. Hell, even fear would have been a respectable response. Instead he was calm. Nervous and anxious from uncertainty and the gamble of the situation, but otherwise calm. Anticipating the ginger’s next move.

Ichigo’s eyes met his, their intensity never swaying and eerily unreadable, then said nothing as the second blade peeled the other opening of Grimmjow’s jacket from his chest, the sharp edge scratching pale skin. When the second blade fell into position and prepared to mimic the sword that came before it another pale hand snatched Kurosaki’s wrist, halting the sword before it could pierce stone. He couldn’t allow this. It went against everything he stood for. All the rules he lived by to survive. He couldn’t change it just because some human brat gave him puppy dog eyes to play king for a while. It would be disgraceful.

“I don’t do that, Kurosaki. Never have and never will,” Grimmjow said sternly.

Ichigo’s stance hadn’t changed, but that gentle voice of his always knew how to cut deep. “But you want to, don’t you?”

Pale fingers squeezed Kurosaki’s wrist, nails scratching heated skin. The boy’s pulse was as violent as his own. Why was he even considering this? Grimmjow knew his answer was always going to be no. He didn’t trust anyone to take control. It wasn’t just Kurosaki. Not once had he ever given the option to either of his Fracción. He never let them entertain the idea. Grimmjow always made sure they knew who was going to top and banished the thought of doing otherwise from their minds. He hated vulnerability. Laying on his back with someone between his legs doing who the hell knows what was about as vulnerable as vulnerability gets. It was too much. It was too extreme. If he couldn’t trust his Fracción then he definitely couldn’t trust his enemy. It was that simple.

“I just wanted to make you feel good, like what you do for me.”

Grimmjow stared at Kurosaki’s steady eyes and gulped.

Damnit.

Squeezing his wrist one last time, Grimmjow released Ichigo and allowed the second sword to embed itself into rock, pinning him in place and exposing himself to Kurosaki. Silently he relinquished control and gave it all to him. Ichigo’s eyes widened slightly as he pulled his hand back, fingers shaking. Grimmjow wasn’t doing any better. He was able to hide his tense insecurities behind a stony face of indifference; yet, somehow, he was sure Kurosaki still noticed how his hands trembled at his sides and how his lungs were suddenly decommissioned. He shouldn’t behave this way. It wasn’t as if he was completely helpless. He was pinned but his hands and arms were free. If he couldn’t handle it anymore or Kurosaki took things too far he could easily stop it. Plus he was considerably stronger than the human in both physical and spiritual levels. It was letting Kurosaki take control. That was the hard part.

Ichigo anxiously rubbed his hands on his jeans, suddenly self conscious about the state of his body as he tried to brush dirt from his clothes. Grimmjow highly doubted Kurosaki understood that his delay was driving the Arrancar up the wall and, in turn, making him more and more nervous. It made him want to yell at the boy to hurry the f*ck up before he changed his mind. Ichigo approached slowly, giving Grimmjow enough time to object before his fiery hands framed his face gently. The Arrancar trembled as the boy’s heat consumed his body, wave after wave washing through his being with each stroke of a calloused thumb against his cheek.

Then a thumb brushed his mask.

Grimmjow’s eyes widened, his mask aching as Ichigo continued to trace the jagged teeth. Panic bubbled in his chest as Ichigo’s eyes lidded. They had never kissed while he was in this form. His mask had never been a problem before, but now it was. The way it contoured his face the mask ended up covering part of his lips with sharp teeth, the same teeth that would undoubtedly tear Ichigo’s skin if they kissed. His large hands took hold of Kurosaki’s waist in an attempt to hold him back.

“Kurosaki, wait, you’ll cut yourself if you—mphf!”

Blue eyes struggled to stay open as Ichigo kissed him. Those experienced lips moved across his passionately as nails teased his jaw, fingers cradling Grimmjow’s face while scratching at the sensitive skin behind his ears. Unable to hold back, Grimmjow moaned, the teeth of his mask parting and capturing Ichigo’s bottom lip, slicing through the flesh with ease. A weighted wetness splashed onto Grimmjow’s lips and caused him to groan. Guilt pooled inside of him as he felt Ichigo’s blood drip between the cracks of his mask and once again tried to push the boy away. He tried to avoid this. Now the bastard wore a busted lip and their kiss was ruined. There’s no way Kurosaki would—

A moan poured from Ichigo’s throat as his tongue brushed over Grimmjow’s stained lips, swallowing his own blood without thought. Grimmjow felt himself become lightheaded as he sagged against the wall. Kurosaki couldn’t be serious. He was okay with this? Kissing an Arrancar and bleeding because of it? How? No one would enjoy being mutilated from such a simple act. It was supposed to be sexy and a beautiful experience to share with another, not...not this. How could he be okay with this? Ichigo pressed his hips forward and Grimmjow shivered violently. He could feel Kurosaki’s erection throbbing against his hip. He wasn’t just okay with this, he was enjoying it.

“C’mon, Grimm,” Ichigo panted breathlessly, his tongue licking blood from the crevices of the Arrancar’s mask, “Let me in.”

f*ck.

With a relenting and needy moan Grimmjow pulled Ichigo closer, grinding back as he parted his lips and allowed Ichigo’s tongue inside. He had already known that Kurosaki’s blood was divine, but to have it pouring into his mouth from a deep wound as they kissed, and to have the human push it onto him with his own tongue, it was enough to make Grimmjow squeeze his thighs together in desperation. His co*ck twitched as Ichigo growled into his mouth. A groan crept from his throat as tanned fingers pulled his hair, tilting his head back as a burning hand slipped down his chest and took hold of the zipper on his clothes. Tooth by tooth the zipper was tugged down, revealing pale flesh and dark scars. Grimmjow honestly thought Ichigo wasn’t going to stop when the zipper struck the first belt, halting the progress and ending it just below the bottom edge of his Hollow hole.

“You’re so gorgeous, Grimmjow,” Ichigo whispered before sealing their lips in another deep kiss.

He couldn’t object to the compliment. Ichigo’s tongue kept his mouth too busy to even consider arguing. All he could do was blush as Kurosaki practically f*cked his mouth with that damned pierced tongue of his. Hot hands pushed at his clothing until the sleeves (or lack thereof) rested on his shoulders and exposed his torso. His breath hitched as rough hands took hold of his waist. Thick calluses stroked his skin, the gentle touch causing Grimmjow to breathe in deeply, pushing out his ribs as tan fingertips counted them.

“You’re always so responsive,” Ichigo murmured.

A harsh pinch to his nipples pulled a gasp from Grimmjow’s tight throat, his face turning a deeper red as Ichigo smiled.

“It’s like you’re meant to be under me,” Ichigo purred, “A king is meant to be pleasured and served, right?”

He couldn’t breathe. Had he ever been able to breathe? His head was so heavy. He was so f*cking hard. A king is meant to be pleasured? Forget that. He’s had more than enough of his fill on that. The king had been served enough. Now it was the god’s turn to take as he wanted. A deity was meant to be praised and worshipped, after all. The need to get on his knees was overwhelming, the desire to do whatever Kurosaki commanded was...it felt right. Kurosaki deserved to have the Arrancar serve him. To have Grimmjow take him into his mouth, deep into his throat, to use him the way the human wanted to and force every last drop of his cum to be swallowed. His co*ck was leaking at the mere thought. He almost begged for it. His lips parted with the words balanced right on the edge of his tongue, but he only found himself moaning as teeth nibbled along his jaw.

“Do you trust me?”

Grimmjow felt his whole body freeze when he realized the weight of those words. Ichigo’s wandering hands continued to fondle the Arrancar’s pecs, squeezing them as if they were soft breasts instead of hard muscle, teasing pink nipples with pinches and tugs. Yet the boy’s mouth never moved. His perfect, cut, bruised and bloodied lips hovered over the corner of Grimmjow’s jaw with the boy’s face pressed against his cheek to cheek. Both struggled to breathe. Air was trapped within Grimmjow’s lungs, unable to escape as those four words cycled through his mind on a torturous loop. Ichigo was able to exhale, but in the form of hot and harsh panting that ghosted over the Arrancar’s sensitive neck, making it impossible for Grimmjow to mistake what Kurosaki was asking.

“Grimm, you gotta talk, man,” Ichigo said.

Strong hands slowly grazed over hard muscle as they trailed down a cold torso, pausing just above the vast hole no one—not even Grimmjow—dared to touch. No one except Kurosaki. A thickly armored thumb traced the tender edge of the hole, stroking a small portion of the circumference and scattering jolting bolts of electricity throughout Grimmjow’s body as his eyes widened. His legs were shaking and his thighs were unable to press closer as pre dribbled from the head of his co*ck, a desperate whimper caught in his throat as he bit the inside of his cheek. sh*t. He hadn’t expected that to feel good. When Kurosaki had asked him if it could cause pleasure as well as pain he had thought the human lost his damn mind, but that never seemed to be the case. With a little more force Ichigo pressed his thumb down on the edge and traced the entire hole, circling it once, twice, three times before Grimmjow felt like his knees were going to give out. With a gutteral snarl, Grimmjow snatched Ichigo’s hand and yanked it away from his stomach—but it was too late. Lightning demolished every segment of his spine as he leaned heavily against the wall, legs shaking while his co*ck twitched, his chest pushing out when he struggled to fill his lungs once more. f*ck.

“Grimmjow? Grimm, are you okay?” Ichigo asked, pulling back to show his face full of concern.

Sharp teeth gnashed together as the red blush consuming Grimmjow’s face bled to his ears. f*cking hell. He hadn’t felt this in years. Since his libido returned, actually.

“Grimmjow? Are you sick? Can Arrancar’s get sick?” Ichigo continued to pepper him with questions, his voice growing squeaky as his panic increased.

f*cking hell. How was he supposed to explain this? He didn’t want to, but there’s no way Ichigo would continue any of this without an answer.

“Calm down, Kurosaki, yer being stupid,” Grimmjow grumbled as he tilted his head back to breathe, “No, I’m not sick and no, I can’t get sick.”

“Then...what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Ya didn’t hurt me, damnit,” Grimmjow snapped, blue eyes meeting brown and gold before quickly turning away. He still wasn’t used to someone looking at him with that face; full of concern and worry, “I’m fine. It was just...it was too much. You touching me like that. I...it made me….”

Ichigo’s confusion deepened and Grimmjow felt his anger spark in response to the embarrassing humiliation currently overwhelming his body. Damn this human! Why did he have to explain everything? Couldn’t this brat use intuition for once in his life?

Grimmjow’s fingers strangled Ichigo’s wrist, nearly threatening to break it when he snarled a clear answer to Ichigo’s invasive questioning, “It was a dry org*sm, ya bastard! Touching me there, like that, was too much. I’m too sensitive.”

That bastard looked as if he had struck gold. The worried creases in Ichigo’s brow disappeared as his eyes burned with life and thousands of needy questions. “You...you had a dry org*sm? I made you have a...holy f*ck. That’s...f*ck, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe I did that to you. I’ve never made anyone do that before,” Ichigo said in wonder.

“I doubt that, Kurosaki. Practically everyone who talks to you jerks off at the thought of you,” Grimmjow snorted, wishing the blush on his face would disappear. Of all the human qualities to return to Arrancar, blushing just had to be one of them. If he had stayed home in Hueco Mundo and not be bothered to fight Kurosaki then there wouldn’t be a problem. This brat was the only one to ever pull this reaction out of him. Then again, no one really tried to flirt or touch him in an over friendly way before, so, there’s that.

“Do you think I can make you do it again?” Ichigo asked with stars shining in his eyes.

“Don’t be so damn proud of yourself, Kurosaki! I’m not some experiment you can poke at because you’re bored,” Grimmjow barked.

“I’m not bored, I’m horny. Does touching your hole really get you off that much?” Ichigo pressed on, staring intently at the gaping void in Grimmjow’s stomach.

This was beyond mortifying. He had never wished to vanish off the face of the earth before but now he f*cking did. “Drop it, Kurosaki. You’re not gonna touch me there again,” Grimmjow huffed as he released the ginger’s wrist rather roughly, “I never gave you permission to do so in the first place. Why even ask if you were just gonna do whatever you wanted?”

Ichigo blinked. The boy looked slightly dazed; his eyes glazed and vacant and his scowl soft while deep in thought. A brief moment where the gears in Kurosaki’s head sputtered and struggled to gain traction. “Uh, that’s not what I was asking permission for. ‘Though I guess I should’ve. Sorry about that, Grimm.”

What? A frown furrowed Grimmjow’s brow as he digested the unexpected words. That wasn’t what he was asking for? What else was there? It wasn’t like Grimmjow had stopped the human from touching him anywhere else. Ichigo had practically touched every part of his body by now. What could he have—

Faint memories of a heated breath panting upon his sensitive neck caused air to seep from the Arrancar as if his lungs had been punctured, making it impossible to breathe. He had been so distracted by Kurosaki tracing such a sensitive part of his body that he hadn’t even noticed...oh f*ck. Gulping audibly, the blush decorating Grimmjow’s skin expanded as the man fully understood Ichigo’s question from before.

Do you trust me?

“Grimm, are you—?”

“Yes.”

Brown and gold blinked once more as pale snow turned crimson. The Arrancar swallowed and held his arms stiffly at his sides, popping his fingers clumsily as he forced himself to meet the human’s eyes.

“To your question earlier, the answer is yes. Just don’t...,” Grimmjow licked his lips and shuffled his feet, “Just don’t touch my stomach. Other than that….”

He couldn’t manage to form the words on his tongue, but he didn’t have to. Ichigo understood him. He always understood everything.

I trust you.

The unspoken words were suspended between them, floating lighter than an angel’s feather as they connected the two bodies. Grimmjow still couldn’t breathe but it seemed that Ichigo couldn’t stop. His lungs labored, panting as dark pupils grew with heated lust that flooded every cell of that sunkissed body. Three silent words made all the difference to Kurosaki. The implications behind them were significant and hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Arrancar. He wasn’t merely giving permission for Ichigo to touch him, but to mark him. To claim him. To allow Kurosaki to not only dominate him, but leave evidence as well. A sign that Grimmjow, the animalistic nemesis of this powerless human, trusted Ichigo Kurosaki to have control.

“You’re so goddamn sexy when you blush,” Ichigo purred, his voice rumbling as he drew closer. Grimmjow swears that had to be Kurosaki’s Hollow. It sounded too much like a growl to be any noise a human could make.

“Don’t make me change my f*cking mind, asshole,” Grimmjow threatened.

A sly smile split across Kurosaki’s lips when he slipped back into his previous position, pressing his body flush against the Arrancar’s as his bleeding lips hovered over a stained mask. “You’re irritatingly talkative when you’re cornered,” Ichigo mused as their noses touched, lips brushing lips when rough hands took hold of a small waist, “Makes me wonder what you’d sound like under me, when I’m f*cking you so damn hard the walls shake.”

f*ck. Unable to hold back Grimmjow groaned at the image, biting the inside of his cheek as his body melted and melded against the rock behind him. He really wasn’t supposed to want that. And he didn’t. He didn’t want it. But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t appetizing. It was akin to seeing food in a commercial or a magazine. It looked beautiful and they made it sound desirable, but the ingredients involved he would never willingly put in his mouth.

“D-don’t think your bed can take any more strain than it’s already gotten. I damn near broke it when I nailed your needy ass,” Grimmjow shot back, struggling to swallow the anxiety building in his throat.

Ichigo chuckled as he leaned in, pressing sensual kisses along Grimmjow’s cheek before taking the corner of his ear between perfect teeth. Grimmjow inhaled sharply when Ichigo bit down, mouth beginning to water as the human nibbled on the fragile cartilage. Then the damn bastard decided to f*cking pant on his goddamn ear. His dick was painfully hard at this point, and of course it only got worse when Kurosaki decided to grind against his thigh like some animal in heat.

“What makes you think we need a bed? I doubt either of us would be able to wait that long. No, I could just as easily take you on the floor, f*ck you until your skin burns from the friction. You seem like the type that enjoys a little pain,” Ichigo murmured.

His ear was released and Grimmjow swallowed his tongue when pink lips peppered caring kisses along his jaw.

“Or I could bend you over the kitchen counter,” Ichigo said, continuing his work at a torturous pace, “Touch your spine with each thrust. Make you cum all over the floor.”

Pale hands clawed at the wall behind him when Grimmjow began to suffocate, air being burned from his body by a raging fire of lust. Ichigo kissed the racing pulse on his throat, his pierced tongue brushing over unmarked flesh and scattering goosebumps across his skin. f*ck. He was getting dizzy. He still couldn’t breathe, either.

“Maybe I should f*ck you against the wall. You’d look so cute clinging to me, begging me to f*ck you harder, faster,” the ginger shivered at his own words, his co*ck throbbing against the Arrancar’s hip when he whimpered, “The thought of holding you like that shouldn’t get me off as much as it does.”

Grimmjow actually couldn’t blame him for that one. He thought of the same thing before, but with Ichigo in his arms. It was an appealing image to say in the least. He completely understood the desire.

“Or maybe I could f*ck you on the balcony.”

Grimmjow stilled. Callused hands caressed his body, touching and framing every curve of his form as teeth scratched his neck. Canines raked over light skin, leaving faint red marks in their wake as a wet, sloppy kiss mauled the man’s throat. The same pierced tongue from before smeared dripping saliva across those marks and erupted goosebumps with a contrasting heated breath, a groan spilling from two throats.

“Make you chant my name so everyone can hear. Let everyone know how good I make you feel.”

Muscular thighs squeezed and shifted. “Th-that’s only fantasy, Ich—Kurosaki,” Grimmjow cleared his throat, “I’d never do any of that.”

That golden chuckle oozing with sweet honey slipped into his ears and scattered electricity down his spine. Thumbs brushed over pert nipples and pinched them harshly without warning. The action pulled a whine from Grimmjow’s chest as Ichigo kissed the Arrancar’s cheek one final time. “Yeah,” Ichigo whispered, his hand slipping down to Grimmjow’s hip, “Merely fantasy.”

Teeth—teeth far sharper than Grimmjow had anticipated—pierced his skin with a vicious bite, pain blistering across his neck as Ichigo’s jaw tightened with a deadly grip. He hadn’t meant to—he would never want to—but the moan that burst from his lips was shameful, desperate, and needy. His legs were weak. They shook under his quivering body and with what little strength they had they tried to hold him up as pain and pleasure tore through every last cell. Kurosaki’s hungry groan vibrated against his throat, forcing more pleasure into the Arrancar’s body as a lustful high devoured his mind. He never imagined that this, being bitten and and dominated, could ever...feel this good. Kurosaki loved it, that was no secret, but Grimmjow hadn’t expected to like it being done to himself. He didn’t exactly get why it was pleasurable...but f*ck, he didn’t have the energy to question it. Skin was pulled into Kurosaki’s mouth as he sucked at the tender flesh, both of them moaning for separate but mirroring reasons. Grimmjow’s hands left the rock wall to claw at the ginger’s back, orange and white hair tangling on his fingers. When Ichigo released his throat he sighed, only to grit his teeth and hiss as the boy latched onto a new patch, biting harder to create darker bruises. f*ck. He was so hard. The precum leaking from the slit of his co*ck was ridiculously thick and the flow stupidly heavy. He couldn’t believe something like this was getting him off. All he needed was—

“f*ck!” Grimmjow cried out.

Throwing his head back his hips bucked and thrusted into Ichigo’s warm palm as the boy stroked his co*ck with adoring attention. Tearing at Ichigo’s clothes, Grimmjow pulled him closer and ignored the danger of the white heart in Ichigo’s chest touching his. At this rate Grimmjow didn’t care if he was electrocuted and burned by the blasted Hollow. He would probably find it enjoyable. Apparently he was a slu*t for pain.

“Gorgeous,” Ichigo murmured as he kissed purpled skin, “I love how sensitive you are, Grimm. It’s so easy to make you moan, and you’re always so loud. I wonder if you’d be just as noisy if I f*cked that tight throat of yours.”

sh*t, he was close. It was all too much. Kurosaki’s teeth on his skin. The calloused hand on his co*ck. The mouthwatering fantasy playing out in his head. Being dominated. Being marked. Too much. Way too much.

“Ich—hah! F-f*ck. Ichigo...I’m cl-clo—.”

“Ichigo! Mr. Jaegerjaquez! We’re here!”

The two froze. Their lustful haze shattered.

“Huh. I wonder where they are. It’s surprisingly quiet,” Orihime’s disembodied voice chirped curiously. Distant but growing closer.

“Urahara said they were down here,” Chad chimed in.

A judgmental snort followed the gentle giant’s words. “That man isn’t exactly the most trustworthy person we know,” Uryū said pointedly.

With a muffled, resentful groan Ichigo buried his face in Grimmjow’s shoulder. “Who’s idea was it to invite them?”

Grimmjow scoffed in an attempt to hide his whine when the human’s hands pulled away. Damnit. “Yours, of course. I would never suggest something this stupid.”

Ichigo pulled back and shot the Arrancar a grumpy glare. “Man, suck it. I was trying to get them off my back and I haven’t been able to see their powers in five years. You know what? Just for that,” Ichigo took a step back and flicked Grimmjow’s co*ck, causing the Arrancar to snarl when he stuck out his pierced tongue, “have fun taking care of that yourself.”

Blue eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

Another smirk split pink lips as mismatched eyes glowed with cruel mirth. “Try me, Jaegerjaquez.”

Grimmjow felt his eye twitch as Ichigo removed his sword and walked away, growling to himself as he tried to will away his erection. “Diabolical, sad*stic bastard.”

Cursing under his breath Grimmjow scrambled to put himself back together. He freed Pantera from rock and sheathed the cold blade. Brushed dirt from his flawless white jacket. Yanked the silver zipper back into place to cover his scars and bury his shame. That was the most embarrassing boner he had ever gotten, and Kurosaki didn’t even get him off. It was hardly worth the humiliation if he didn’t even climax. Grimmjow felt his eye twitch. That bastard. Kurosaki wasn’t going to get jack sh*t from him for a long time because of this damn stunt. Now he really needed to crack a human’s skull. Fuming silently Grimmjow stomped toward the merry sounds of Ichigo talking to his friends. Their excited babble deeply contrasted his aggravated brooding. Orihime’s voice was bursting with butterflies and stars, as it always had and will for eternity. Chad’s voice was softer, quieter, like the gentle plucking of strings on an acoustic guitar, but nonetheless lively. The only one who matched his current mood was Ishida, and the Quincy actually sounded rather content despite his opinionated remarks at Kurosaki. An orchestra of laughter enriched the air, swarming Grimmjow like sunlight and heating his cold body as he paused beside a small boulder to watch the humans interact. He had never heard Kurosaki laugh like that before. His smiles were no longer rare and his chuckles were just as present, but all out laughter...he was practically oozing wealth and happiness. They all were. The ring on Chad’s finger, a simple silver band with unintelligible writing glistened and glowed in tune with the matching ring on Orihime’s hand, the two beaming at Ichigo with adoration and pride. Uryū, completely unlike himself, smiled as if his burdens were weightless. His vast ocean blue eyes never wavered from Ichigo’s form, his never ending love drawn to the human as if Kurosaki provided the gravitational pull to keep his body bound to terren ground. They were moths lured in by the warmth of a non burning fire. Eager to be caught in such a wonderful embrace.

Slowly Grimmjow eased himself onto the boulder, unable to tear his eyes away from the peculiar and wholesome sight. Happiness such as theirs was an odd concept to him. Finding pleasure in the company of others. Creating a close knit brotherhood with those of different blood. Gathering in packs not for survival but for companionship. It was unlike anything Grimmjow himself would choose to do. He had never felt lonely. Solitude was always appreciated. He didn’t seek comfort from others nor did he rely on a being aside from himself to pose as a brother, friend, or lover. At least...he never intended to do such things.

“Lord Grimmjow, I propose that we ambush them. This particular collection of adjuchas seem to be unable to adapt to surprise.”

“C’mon, Grim—I mean, Lord Grimmjow, I want to fight beside you. How can I call myself one of your Fracción if I never fight anyone?”

“Would you like me to heal you, Lord Grimmjow?”

“Those morons. I’ll slaughter every last one of them for what they said. Weak Arrancar like them deserve death for insulting an Espada.”

“Even if my brother had asked me to be one of his Fracción...Lord Grimmjow, you need to understand that I can think of no one I would rather serve under than you.”

A heavy burst of spiritual pressure knocked Grimmjow from his deep thoughts and he flinched when a wave of dust overwhelmed him. The suffocating cloud quickly settled and revealed the humans battling to his blue eyes. It was as if nothing had changed, like Kurosaki never lost his powers. He watched as multiple unique attacks were released, unsurprised that Kurosaki was able to dodge them all despite the massive power behind each blow. Kurosaki had no idea how fortunate he was. Losing his powers had been debilitating. Grimmjow will never deny such an obvious truth. However, Kurosaki was lucky that he hadn’t lost any of his friends to that war. They had come close to death, going so far as to tease the demon with wicked smirks on their faces, but they lived. Not everyone could say that about that war. Least of all the Arrancar.

“Hey.”

Cyan eyes lifted. That was a face he hadn’t seen in a while. At least not this version.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Kon asked, gesturing to the ground.

Grimmjow studied the brunette Kurosaki look-alike before turning his gaze away. “It ain’t my dirt.”

The Kaizō Konpaku dropped beside him, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed and his arms bracing his weight as he leaned back. They watched the battle in silence. Kurosaki was still slow enough—even while using Sonído—that they could easily follow their movements without straining their eyes. It was five years after the fact but Grimmjow could see why they had lost to such an annoying group. They were strong and inventive and unbound by normal rules, particularly Orihime and Chad. Their abilities were completely foreign to Grimmjow and yet...somehow familiar.

“Do you like Ichigo?”

Wow. These people were obsessed.

Grimmjow shot the man an irritated stare and replied, “What do you want?”

The brunette lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. The subtle action pulled Grimmjow’s eyes down the body before him. There were more variations between him and Kurosaki than he originally thought. Kon wasn’t as lean as Kurosaki with his lack of waist as an indication. His arms were slimmer, having less definition in the biceps which apparently had been transferred to his legs instead. Most of the muscle in his body laid in his thighs and calves. That’s where Kon had Kurosaki beat. His abilities must lay within his legs for them to develop so differently from the rest of his body. It couldn’t have been Urahara’s doing. He couldn’t create a body that disproportionate.

“Nothing. Just wanna know why you keep staring at him,” Kon said.

“He’s my enemy. It’s natural to study his techniques and later use them to predict his attacks when we fight.”

Kon’s face wasn’t mottled with freckles either. His eyes were brown, but they were nothing like Kurosaki’s. The irises were too dark, almost black, and didn’t contain a single golden star; a lonely and unlit solar system. Grimmjow turned his eyes away. It looked wrong. Kurosaki’s face without freckles. Kurosaki’s eyes without light. Kurosaki’s hair, curled and burned a deep brown. It was all wrong.

Kon pursed his lips as he pondered the Arrancar’s words. “What kinda battle are we talkin’ about, exactly? Like, tonsil tennis and bumping uglies or actual battle?”

Grimmjow turned his head sharply to glare at the brunette. “Do you want me to rip out your throat?”

“Hey man, take it easy! I’m just curious,” Kon said while lifting his hands in surrender, “I’ve known Ichigo for years and I’ve never seen him look at someone like that. At least not in a while.”

Why did all of Kurosaki’s friends say sh*t like this? What about them being in the same room together makes people believe that they’re in love?

“Whatever you see in Kurosaki has nothing to do with me. Once he’s at full strength I’m going to fight him, and I’m going to kill him. Simple as that.”

Those words were so heavy. Since when had they held so much weight? Boasting about his eventual triumph and Kurosaki’s downfall had never been difficult before. In fact he had rather enjoyed it. Yet somehow those words grew obese and hard to swallow and spit out, nearly impossible to push from his tongue. It didn’t make sense. The thought of killing Kurosaki should elate him. As of now that joy felt empty. He didn’t understand why.

They sat in steady silence, observing the humans playing like lion cubs in tall grass when suddenly Kon sighed and stood up, knocking dirt from his skintight jeans. “Tell that to the hickies on your neck, man. Everyone can see them. I wouldn’t keep denying sh*t when you’re literally covered in contradicting evidence.”

Instinctually Grimmjow slapped a hand over the bruises forming on his neck and winced. They stung. A lot. They were also apparently very noticeable. Heat stained the Arrancar’s cheeks as he turned to retort, but the half baked insult vanished from the tip of his tongue when he realized Kon was abandoning his company for that of Goro who sat sullenly by the ladder in the distance. Grimmjow dropped his head as if to hide, although no one was around to see. He couldn’t believe he let Kurosaki do this to him. Scratches on his back were one thing. This...this was on a completely different level. A pink tongue dashed across plump lips and halted when bloodied bone teased his taste buds. With a shiver Grimmjow reached up to scrub the remaining blood from his mask. Of course he didn’t regret it. He doubted anyone could. It was amazing; far greater than the chaos he was expecting. And yet…Grimmjow sighed as his blush began to fade. To enjoy this felt as wrong as Kon’s inaccurate features. Pantera hummed in agreement, buzzing against his hip in a knowing growl. It was wrong. All of it was—

Painful goosebumps tore through Grimmjow’s skin as a horrific, blood curdling scream pierced his sensitive ears until they rang, until the only sound he could hear was his own pulse and that wicked howl. He no longer had a heart but his chest stillfelt heavy as if his heart turned to lead when his eyes lifted to find Kurosaki on his knees, blood soaking his clothes and pooling under him as the Quincy stood over him with his bow glowing a vicious, satanic blue hue.

Chapter 43: Two-Faced Freak

Chapter Text

It had been centuries since he last felt this sensation. Existing yet lifeless. Breathing but, somehow, dead. A body in perfect condition coexisting with mindlessness. Living by pure emotion and instinct alone was the only method of survival his primitive form could muster, now he had evolved and become so much more. To slip back through time and revert into what he once was, a vicious beast hellbent on slaughtering and swallowing every last living creature with flesh and blood before he himself was engulfed by a stronger monster, was shameful. He would surely berate himself for his actions later, but currently, his mind was so underdeveloped that only two words were left in his vocabulary: Kurosaki and Quincy.

In a blind rage, his body moved in a fraction of a second, his superior form appearing between a profusely bleeding Kurosaki and his so-called friend Ishida. If he had taken a second to think, to process the situation, he would have seen the broken look of horror upon the Quincy’s face. Grimmjow didn’t register any of it. His crazed mind had managed a third word that played on a torturous repeat as a dark snarl ripped through his chest and shook the very ground under their feet. Kill. The rage boiling under his skin beckoned and begged for the Arrancar to wrap his fingers around that pale neck and snap it clean; who was he to refuse such a demand? His hand struck out and caught Uryū’s throat with ease, watching with dead eyes as those deep oceans twisted and curled in a frightened storm. Overpowering the Quincy was comically easy. Ishida’s body was so thin and frail and weak compared to his armored Arrancar form. It wasn’t at all unexpected that Grimmjow was capable of slamming the Quincy against the bloodstained ground and pinning him effortlessly. He took immense satisfaction from the way Ishida gasped—yet it still wasn’t enough. He deserved more than a little discomfort. Grimmjow could almost marvel at how thin the Quincy’s neck was. How simple it was to ensnare that delicate throat with his large hands and squeeze, his body burning and buzzing at the sight of fear in dark blue eyes and the grating crackle of his choked pleads. He could finish this so quickly. One little twist and a few pounds of pressure and it would be over, but he refused to make it that easy. Grimmjow wanted to watch this man suffer. He wanted Ishida to beg for death. A chilling red glow simmered in his palms as blood surrounded his feet and lapped at his boots with sinful tongues. Uryū’s eyes were full of so much terror that he couldn’t help but smile demonically. This was the punishment for interfering. This is price one pays for touching what belongs to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

A thick arm of bulging muscle snaked around his throat and flexed to cut off airways as he was dragged backward. A choked snarl shattered in Grimmjow’s throat as his feet kicked wildly to gain purchase on loose ground. Panic settled deep in Grimmjow’s bones as his fingers started to slip and the ceros dimmed. Nails clawed the soft flesh of Uryū’s throat as anger chased panic throughout his body with a muted snarl vibrating behind his teeth.

“Let...go,” Grimmjow whispered, his voice unable to reach higher volume as he pushed against the opposing force, “He...Ichigo.”

“Release him,” Chad demanded, his deep voice steady and immovable.

A sneer wrinkled Grimmjow’s nose and peeled his lips from white teeth as he tried to growl in response, the sound snuffed by an easy flex of Chad’s muscles. He couldn’t let Uryū get away with this. Grimmjow resisted, fingers sinking deeper into the Quincy’s throat until his lungs failed, his vision faded, and his growls transformed into venomous gargling. Glowing blue eyes glared at Ishida’s pathetic face and he clenched his teeth and flashed them. Disgusting. The Quincy’s mouth gaped in a silent scream for air. It was pathetic and well deserved, but it warned of his own fate. Damnit. Grimmjow was ashamed and reluctant to release Ishida’s purpling neck to save his own but he didn’t have any other choice. Ishida collapsed to his knees and coughed violently while clutching his neck and an orange shield materialized before him. Grimmjow couldn’t believe it. They were protecting him. Another broken snarl crackled in his throat. His body was heavy; he continued to struggle. How could they call themselves Ichigo’s friends? His hands sought for a weak point in Chad’s grip, fingers scratching dark skin and turning black as Grimmjow searched for sensitive wounds or vulnerable scars.

“Calm down, Grimmjow. If you go ballistic we can’t help Ichigo,” Chad said softly, his voice laced with a tense, concerned edge.

He could feel his teeth beginning to change. Each tooth elongated and sharpened to brutal points that sliced into his own tongue. When was the last time he had been this livid? It seemed his body was tearing itself apart, especially when he saw Ishida shakily climb to his feet. He shouldn’t be the one left standing.

“Quincy,” Grimmjow spat, his vision clouding as saliva flooded his mouth like a ravenous animal.

For once Uryū actually looked terrified. Grimmjow would relish this moment if it weren’t so f*cked up.

“Grimmjow, please,” Orihime pressed, her demeanor serious and pleading as she knelt beside Ichigo, “Uryū didn’t mean to harm him.”

He would snort if he could breathe. Yeah right. Whether he meant to or not doesn’t matter. It’s what he did that mattered. He hurt Kurosaki while he was weak and vulnerable. That bullsh*t was inexcusable.

“Ichigo needs you.”

His squirming body stilled at her words.

Orihime’s grey eyes softened as her hand gently stroked Ichigo’s back. “The longer we spend taming you the less attention Ichigo’s wound gets.”

sh*t. Every muscle in Grimmjow’s body fell limp as he leaned back into Chad’s protective embrace. She was right. Just like that the animalistic haze controlling him melted and left the Arrancar feeling drained on all accounts. However, he wasn’t drained enough to ignore the fear latching onto his mind like a leech as he watched blood pour from Ichigo’s wounds. Kurosaki was so lost in his own pain that he hadn’t seen or heard anything going on around him. In a way he was relieved. That hadn’t exactly been his greatest shining moment. Grimmjow bit the inside of his cheek as the sharp edges faded away. How could he be so stupid to concentrate on revenge instead of aiding Kurosaki? It was foolish.

“Why aren’t you healing him?” Chad asked. He slowly loosened his grip on the Arrancar.

“Ichigo won’t let me,” Orihime replied. A worried frown creased her brow and aged her young face.

Her hands lifted and sought to examine the gravity of the wound when she was stopped by Ichigo’s blood-soaked hand. His fingers laced with hers in a tight grasp, refusing to let go to prevent her from touching him further as he used his forearm to fend off her second hand. Grimmjow still couldn’t believe how calm this woman was around blood and gore. She didn’t flinch once when Ichigo’s blood smeared across her skin or soiled her clothes. Meanwhile, Grimmjow was barely stomaching the sight of it.

“Ichigo I need to heal you,” Orihime pursued, “You’re not strong enough to handle a wound like this.”

“D-don’t,” Ichigo groaned, cringing as he wrapped an arm around his middle.

“Why are you refusing healing?” Chad asked as he released and stepped away from Grimmjow to join his fiancé on the ground, guarding Ichigo’s other side.

“I don’t know...I don’t know what happened,” Uryū suddenly spoke in a raspy voice, still protected by Orihime’s shield but looking vandalized as he stared at the bleeding ginger, “He was dodging everything so well and then...I don’t know. Maybe I misjudged my aim or didn’t calculate how long he could keep up his speed, but...the next thing I knew my arrow was tearing through his shoulder.”

A dark scowl twisted Grimmjow’s features as he growled and took a threatening step forward, noting how the shield followed his movements. It was tracking him. Great, there really wasn’t a way he could get around that thing and finish the job he started. “How about next time you f*cking focus and watch what you’re f*cking doing when you fight someone with a goddamn Hollow in their f*cking chest!” Grimmjow barked.

It was satisfying to watch Ishida flinch, but it wasn’t enough to make up for what he did.

“f*ck,” Ichigo whimpered. Grimmjow turned his gaze back to Ichigo just in time to watch the white organ in his chest contract and throb uncontrollably. With a pathetic yelp Ichigo started to cough. Thick globs of blood spilled from his mouth and stained his perfect teeth with each pained twitch of his throat. Grimmjow clenched his fists at his sides as he cursed to himself. What the hell could he do? Ichigo was refusing to be healed for some godforsaken reason and that girl was his best bet of survival. Orihime was right in acknowledging that Kurosaki wouldn’t last long under this strain. He was going to die if they didn’t do something quick.

“Ichigo I have to heal you,” Orihime said sternly, her gaze hard and unquestionable.

“No!” Ichigo argued then immediately started coughing again, more blood rolling off his tongue, “Grimm...Grimmjow.”

Mismatched eyes struck his form and Grimmjow froze. Ichigo looked so exhausted. He had been healthy for so long that Grimmjow had forgotten how heart-wrenching the boy looked when in turmoil. He hated it. More than he ever thought he would.

“Grimm…tear it out.”

His mouth ran dry. Was Kurosaki serious? Grimmjow stared at the heart in Ichigo’s chest, watching the erratic palpitations with growing anxiety as he shifted from one foot to the other. Ichigo wanted him to remove his Hollow?

“With Ichigo, he and the Hollow are already one person. Separating the two would cause tremendous pain and possibly death.”

“Even if it didn’t kill me it would destroy my powers. Or at least weaken them significantly. Don’t forget that a majority of my abilities comes from my Hollow. Take him away and I’ll probably return back to a normal human.”

Grimmjow shifted from one foot to the other once again. “Ichigo you can’t be serious. You could lose your powers. You could die.”

“Grimm, you have to,” Ichigo murmured as he brought a hand to his shoulder, trying to hold his splitting body together as he smiled weakly at the Arrancar, “I’ll be fine. I made a promise to fight you, remember? I don’t go back on my promises.”

“Now’s not the time for one of your heroic bullsh*t speeches,” Grimmjow huffed, but his tone lacked serious bite. Damn this human. Why did he always get mixed up in bullsh*t situations like this?

“Heh, I know,” Ichigo said, that smile never wilting, “You have to do it before he—.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened as he doubled over with a horrific scream. A waterfall of blood rushed from his mouth and splattered on the ground as the wail grew louder. Louder and louder the horrific sound became when it was suddenly garbled and muffled by something thick and grotesque building in his throat. Orange hair spilled over Ichigo’s shoulders in a chaotic mess, the orange hue of each strand of hair fading into a shocking white matching the color seeping through sunkissed skin. sh*t. Grimmjow braced himself as an intense spiritual pressure crashed down upon their heads, forcing Ichigo’s friends to bow under the unseen strength while Grimmjow fought to stay standing. Whatever clogged Ichigo’s throat finally fell loose, defying gravity as the white liquid snaked across the human’s freckled face and started to harden. The same white liquid bubbled under Ichigo’s hand and slowly crept along his wound to seal the massive gash before conquering the rest of his body. Grimmjow snarled and took hold of Pantera as he pushed back against Ichigo’s spiritual pressure with his own, matching the strength and nothing more. If he tried to overpower Ichigo—his Hollow—it would only create bigger conflict. Pantera vibrated at their shared uncertainty, both Arrancar and blade torn between what Kurosaki asked of them and what they believed. If this went south, if Kurosaki ended up dying by his hand without so much as a spat spiteful word...then what? What the hell was Grimmjow supposed to do with a victory that cheap? The Arrancar scowled and snarled to himself, forcefully pushing all thoughts aside and tried to regain his composure. Worrying about this bullsh*t wouldn’t do either of them any good. Kurosaki’s wishes always came before Grimmjow’s better judgment. He had no say in how to cherish or destroy Kurosaki’s body. Ichigo threw his head back with an ear-shattering roar as the mask consumed over half of his face and formed horns. Black claws split forth from Kurosaki’s white fingertips and raked across his shoulder and chest, unsuccessfully attempting to pierce the heavily armored skin seeping from the wound and crystalizing his body. He couldn’t hesitate any longer. With a steadying breath, Grimmjow allowed his hand to transform. He hovered over Ichigo’s twisted body with his arm co*cked back—but soon realized he couldn’t move. Grimmjow clenched his jaw. Move. His hand trembled beside his head as he watched the boy change, the shaking increasing with each passing second. Damnit! Move!

“If anything goes wrong Grimmjow can handle it. He’s one of the strongest guys I know.”

Determination settled in Grimmjow’s brilliant eyes and he relinquished Pantera to take hold of a frighteningly sharp horn, controlling Ichigo’s body by jerking the boy’s head back and exposing the white, throbbing muscle protruding from a tattooed chest; his hand poised and ready to attack. Without hesitation, Grimmjow’s arm shot forward and his clawed fingers sank deep into a wet, throbbing organ, the rapid pulse beating against his fingertips. The pain was instantaneous. Black and red fire lashed out at his arm with vicious, frightened cruelty and carved large gashes throughout his flesh and muscle, tearing Grimmjow’s arm apart as if it were trapped between the jaws of a merciless beast. Swallowing his pained snarls Grimmjow tightened his grasp on both the heart and horn and pushed distance between them as he tore the muscle from Kurosaki at a sluggish pace. The human’s Hollowfied wails stabbed his ears with sharpened knives until they started to bleed; a thick trickle of blood caressed its way down his lobe and plunged onto his white jacket and the center of Kurosaki’s mask. Grimmjow could feel the flesh on his arm turning black as he was burned. The scent of his own skin blistering and sizzling overwhelmed the Arrancar with nausea. He still refused to let go. Not yet. Not until this was over. He felt the heartbreak loose from Kurosaki’s body at an agonizing speed, flesh ripping under his grasp, tearing under his relentless strength cell by cell—but he was quickly losing control. The tendons in his arms were tattered and destroyed beyond repair with each outburst of the Hollow’s power, weakening Grimmjow’s arm and making it near impossible to hold onto the slippery organ. He was so tired of hearing Kurosaki scream. Gritting his teeth Grimmjow used all of his remaining strength at once. Blood spilled from his split palm as the blackened skin cracked and fractured, blood oozing from the wounds and mixing with the rich blood pouring from the white heart. Biting his tongue to keep silent Grimmjow wrenched the heart free with a violent yank, pulling his arm back without mercy. The sensation of a heart being torn from Kurosaki’s chest was a feeling that would echo on his fingertips for years to come and would chill his spine every time the grim memory resurfaced. But finally, it was all over.

Quickly he flung the heart aside. The slime covered organ collected dirt as it rolled across the ground, spitting sparks of red and black hues before dying out with a sputter. Ogihci and Kurosaki were no longer one and the effects held an immediate change to the boy’s body. Kurosaki’s mask crumbled, the horn against Grimmjow’s palm disintegrating to dust as the spiritual pressure holding them down vanished and allowed them to breathe. Color bled back into Kurosaki’s body, his hair switching to its natural glorious orange as his skin darkened into the usual tan—his nails and irises even returned to the way they were. The white liquid sprouting from the deep gash dripped from his body in thick, grotesque globs of melted flesh until all that was left was Kurosaki in all of his human glory. Human except for the canyon-sized hole blown through the boy’s chest. Knives sliced at Grimmjow’s lungs as he struggled to breathe, only able to pant and sway side to side. Goddamnit. He felt so lightheaded. So utterly tired. He wanted nothing more than to go back. Go back to that cozy apartment and sleep late into the afternoon on a soft bed with Kurosaki’s warm body in his arms. He should have stopped Ichigo from doing this, but “should have” was too late. They couldn’t turn back now. They had to suffer the consequences. Blue eyes fought to focus on the ginger’s chest, trying to understand if the gaping Hollow hole left behind from the white heart was real or a mere delusion his exhausted body produced. His feet shifted, body stumbling as his weakness spread throughout his limbs. He couldn’t feel his arm. Was he just blocking the pain? Or was it gone? With a whimpering whine, Grimmjow collapsed to his knees, his mutilated arm laying limply at his side. That hole was as catastrophic as he expected. For someone like Kurosaki to lose his heart, the entire essence of his being, would gut the boy if not kill him. It may have already taken his life. There was no Chain of Fate, no heartbeat and no mask, in fact, Grimmjow couldn’t be certain that Kurosaki was alive. Had they failed? Had he been too slow to react?

“Kurosaki,” he murmured, words awkwardly lining on his tired tongue, “Get up, ya bastard.”

Orihime eased Ichigo’s limp body to lay down and placed the boy’s head in her lap, gathering his bloody orange hair and pulling it aside before beckoning her powers. Grimmjow clenched his jaw and took hold of his own forearm. His thumb dug into one of the lacerations and pried flesh apart slowly to reveal more of his own bone.

“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow reiterated. You better wake up.

Eyes rolled behind eyelids and Grimmjow held his breath. He found himself speechless when the human’s eyes fluttered open, unable to look away from the matching set of honey drizzled, cinnamon brown irises.

“He’s okay,” Orihime said. Tears lining her long lashes were brushed away by careful hands. The same hands that cradled her head and pulled her close as Chad kissed her temple, whispering a quiet “thank you” in her ear.

The corners of Ichigo’s lips twitched into a smile and Grimmjow immediately shifted closer until he was kneeling beside the boy’s head, fingers falling from his wound. “Ichigo?” Grimmjow asked urgently, “Can you speak? Can you hear me?”

Smiling through death, as he always did. “Told ya I wouldn’t die,” Ichigo chuckled.

The boy’s rough voice grated on Grimmjow’s sensitive ears. He had never heard a more beautiful sound. “You’re an asshole,” Grimmjow huffed but despite himself he smiled, the expression relaxed, relieved, and real, “You lowered my life expectancy by a couple thousand years, dickhole.”

“You seem to be a bit obsessed with holes today,” Ichigo retorted.

Grimmjow could only laugh, the sound happy and weightless—although brief—as the Arrancar felt a warmth encompass his cold, aching body. They were enemies, but Kurosaki always had a knack for making others feel like they belonged by his side. Grimmjow always felt welcomed in his presence. It was easy to understand why his friends flocked to him so eagerly. He was hesitant and slightly evasive, but he was a moth just like the rest of them. He hated himself for it. Here he was practically thanking whatever deity existed for allowing Kurosaki to live when instead he should be craving the boy’s death. They were enemies. They were supposed to hate each other. To kill each other. Ichigo’s survival shouldn’t mean sh*t to him. Grimmjow’s smile weakened and wavered as thunder rolled and lightning cracked inside his skull, a headache tearing through his mind as emotionality and logic clashed. His blue eyes drank in the ginger’s beautiful, bloodstained smile and his mask ached. He was supposed to hate that face. Howcould he hate that face? Was he required to hate his enemy?

“Grimmjow, your arm.”

Warm fingers traced the cracks on the back of his hand up to the deep lacerations on his arm, their blood mixing in a sickening poetic mess. Pull back. Grimmjow leaned into the boy’s touch. He watched brown eyes absorb his injuries with a somber gaze and bit his tongue to hold back unnecessary soothing words. Pull back.

“Jaegerjaquez.”

Cyan eyes shot over to Uryū. The shield guarding him had shattered long ago but Grimmjow no longer held any desire to tear the man limb from limb. The Quincy coughed into his fist, the purpling marks on his skin noticeable with each twitch of muscle in his throat. With tears in his eyes and nails clawing at the ground Uryū formed a small, handheld bow in his palm and used the sharp tip to point. “Look.”

Grimmjow followed the gesture and his stomach plummeted. Well, at least it would if he had one. The white heart shifted in the sand and started to twitch and expand. Veins pulsed with each breath as white liquid oozed from the surface and took shape. Spiritual pressure burst from the heart in rapid waves as muscle swarmed around the heart. Tendons multiplied and fused to bone and organs that bled from the heart’s velvet skin in a rapid ooze. Grimmjow could only watch in astonishment as a body developed before their very eyes. Lean torso with long limbs. A muscular build confined by lily white skin. Black nails scratching the earth and a flash of a blue tongue. Uncontained, long white hair and a black tattoo upon a proud chest, red ink turned purple on the opposite yet identical skin. It was a body he knew well, even if the freckles dotting high cheekbones were an alarming grey. Those golden eyes...they were unforgettable.

“Mother f*ckin’ bitch! You Quincies don’t f*ckin’ hold back holy sh*t,” the Hollow spat. He winced as he held tightly onto his shoulder, the same wound Ichigo had moments ago causing the creature the same pain and bloodstained skin. The same, but not.

All they could do was stare. For the first time in history, they were seeing Ichigo’s inner Hollow. Grimmjow gulped as he found himself unable to look away. For a beast as powerful as the one Ichigo held within himself, Grimmjow hadn’t expected it to look so...human. Granted the color scheme was off and his eyes were undeniably Hollow, but outside of that, he seemed more like a twin than anything else. No mask. No sword. No vacancy in his chest. What kind of Hollow was he? Grimmjow’s eyes scanned the alien body and found himself blushing despite the situation. Either he hadn’t noticed or he didn’t care, but the Hollow was completely naked. Only blood attempted to hide his shame and even then it really only encouraged people to look more. Or at least people like him.

The Hollow lifted his eyes and grinned, blood dripping between his fingers. “Heyyy, nice to meet you all. Officially, that is. I see a lot of familiar faces.”

A black-nailed finger first pointed in Uryū’s direction. The Hollow smiled as if to mock him but there was a level of sincerity in his eyes that Grimmjow couldn’t dismiss. “You tried to stop me from killing that bat bastard in Hueco Mundo. Sorry about the arm, man, but that bitch had it coming. His ego was both aggravating and pointless in the end. Couldn’t even last a damn minute against me,” the Hollow chuckled.

The echoed laughter shot a shiver quaking down Grimmjow’s spine. The noise was so dark and heavy...it exuded danger in its purest, most terrifying form. It was an unseen nightmare: deadly and unexpectedly thrilling.

Gold eyes flickered to Orihime, who was blushing as badly as he currently was, and the Hollow’s smile deflated along with his interest. “You were terrified of me and I’m sure that hasn’t changed.”

Glowing eyes landed on Grimmjow and electrocuted every last cell within his body, leaving the Arrancar breathless and stunned. A sharp grin split across the Hollow’s face as he eyed Grimmjow from head to toe, drinking in the view with a lick of his lips. “You always put up one helluva fight and I appreciate that. Refreshing, compared to everyone else King has fought. I also recall you having a thing for my eyes,” the Hollow batted his eyelashes mockingly, “Something about me knowing that I was stronger than you pissin’ you off.”

The resounding cackle engulfed the air and made nearly everyone uncomfortable—save for Kurosaki and Grimmjow himself. This truly was Kurosaki’s Hollow. The monster responsible for slaughtering Ulquiorra in cold blood and for the scars branding his skin. Goosebumps sprouted across Grimmjow’s flesh and he shivered at the heat radiating throughout him. This had to be one of the strongest Hollows among their race if not the strongest. A power able to defeat someone of Ulquiorra’s rank wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“Ogihci? Is that you?”

Gold eyes shifted to peer over Grimmjow’s shoulder and the Arrancar followed suit. Ichigo tried to sit up on his own, making faces as he disturbed his tired muscles. Delicate hands braced Ichigo’s shoulders as Orihime aided her friend, cautious of the hole in his chest and refusing to let him go when her healing ability flickered out of sight. Out of all of Kurosaki’s friends she had to be the most protective. Aside from Ishida, of course. That Quincy was obsessed.

Ogihci smirked at the ginger. Unlike all the others, this particular grin was by far the largest and least intimidating, glowing with an air of fondness rather than aggression. “Heya, King. What’re you letting this Quincy kick your ass for? I know you ain’t really got your powers back,” gold eyes turned cold, freezing the gasp caught in Grimmjow’s lungs, “But that ain’t no excuse.”

His threat didn’t go unnoticed. Orihime held tightly onto Ichigo’s shoulders as her earrings sparkled, hinting that she wasn’t afraid to use her shield, or something much worse. Chad’s arm transformed into a monstrous state, the one made to absorb blows without flinching. Uryū, oddly, beckoned his bow slowly, his eyes uncertain and his hands reluctant to take aim. Grimmjow felt so out of place amongst them. He felt no fear toward the Hollow. Respect and awe, certainly, but not fear. There was something about this Hollow that seemed...off-kilter compared to others of their race. He seemed emotional. And gentle. Well, gentle for a Hollow, that is.

Laughter caught them all off guard. Even Ogihci blinked at Kurosaki in surprise. “I don’t doubt that you’ll change that soon. You hate it when I’m helpless.”

The Hollow was thrown by Ichigo’s words, his appearance disheveled by the unexpected friendliness. Ah. Grimmjow understood that reaction well. Kurosaki had done the same thing to him multiple times before.

White arms crossed over a tattooed chest and Ogihci scoffed to avoid brown eyes, “I don’t like playin’ horse to a sick king.”

Ichigo smiled in return, “I know.”

Horse and king? What the hell did that mean? Pain pulled his attention back to his arm and Grimmjow grunted. This sh*t hurt more than he was willing to admit; he hadn’t helped his condition when he overreacted and pried the flesh apart. He never wanted to be that dramatic ever again.

“Hey, princess,” Grimmjow grumbled, waiting until Orihime met his eyes to continue, “Mind healing my arm?”

“O-oh. Of course. I’m sorry Mr. Jaegerjaquez, I should’ve offered sooner.”

Honestly, she shouldn’t have. She didn’t owe him a damn thing. Chad took Orihime’s place as the woman knelt beside him and beckoned her powers, a soft groan rattling in Grimmjow’s throat as feeling returned to his dead limb. Ulquiorra’s regeneration was child’s play compared to this woman’s power, something that Grimmjow greatly admired and respected. Yet he was the only one lost in the strength residing within the human woman, even the girl herself was distracted. None of them were unable to take their eyes off the Hollow. Blue eyes were soon transfixed on the discolored and familiar figure. Grimmjow couldn’t blame them. It was nearly impossible to look away from such an outstanding sight. And he didn’t mean that because he was naked and drenched in blood—although Grimmjow did have to admit to himself that it was a bit of a turn on.

“Do…,” Orihime chewed her bottom lip before continuing, “Would you like for me to heal you, Mister…?”

That smile...it was as addictive as Kurosaki’s but for all the wrong reasons. He was sure he was the only one who enjoyed it.

“Nah. It’s not fatal. I can easily fix it myself,” Ogichi admitted. No sooner had he said those words did his bloodied hands fall from his chest and smear stamped blue handprints upon his thighs. The same white liquid that bubbled within Kurosaki’s wounds emerged from the large rip. The liquid webbed and weaved between the two lumps of flesh, sewing the Hollow’s shoulder back into one piece and appearing as if he had never been harmed, except for the blood. His regeneration abilities were awe inspiring. A wound like that would take Grimmjow weeks, maybe even a month, to recover from, where Soul Reapers would surely die.

“You’ve gotten rather sensitive since I last saw you, kitten,” Ogihci said as he rolled his refreshed shoulder at the Arrancar, “Since when are you a puss*, eh?”

Blue lashes fluttered and an eyelid twitched. His fingers curled weakly as tendons returned. Irritating and condescending little bitch. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. Not from eyes like those.

Ogihci smiled at the man’s dark scowl; obviously overjoyed by the Arrancar’s miffed silence. “You’re cute when you’re angry. I’ll be sure to piss you off more often.”

f*cking bastard. “You—.”

Artificial sunlight flickered and faded, casting a pillar of shadows to consume Ogihci’s pale body that beckoned all eyes upward. A small black spot blocked the sun, absorbing all light and outlined by golden rays, appearing as an angel of death. Grimmjow’s eyes widened. That was no angel of death.

“Kon, wait! You’ll be killed!” Grimmjow barked.

His words going unheeded, the Kaizō Konpaku’s body twisted and dove down upon the Hollow, striking his target with a splitting crack. Spiritual pressure overwhelmed them in relentless waves that tossed their bodies to and fro when the ground shook and spasmed, the earth splitting apart as dust shrouded the opponents. Grimmjow cursed. He pulled Pantera from her sheath and stabbed the ground, clinging to her hilt as well as he could with one working hand. From all those times he had come in contact with Kon he had never felt this tremendous power within him. He was no Captain or Espada, but he was a force to be reckoned with and Grimmjow couldn’t believe the man was able to hide it. The waves slowly dissipated into a distant echo and the debris settled with it to expose Kon and Ogihci in a frightening state. His attack hadn’t landed at all. Instead, Ogihci had caught Kon’s ankle with relative ease, his brow smooth and eyes blank. Kon’s eyes doubled, momentarily letting his emotions get the best of him before a mask of determination settled upon his features.

“You understand that you’re no match for me, right?” Ogihci asked blandly.

“Defeating you isn't the point of fighting you,” Kon countered.

The Hollow’s brow arched at the answer. His lips parted to utter a reply when he stilled. A dark, twisted snarl marred Ogihci’s face as he turned to glare at the ladder in the distance. Red and black flames emerged from blue blood, twisting and curling and growing along with the Hollow’s anger. With a curt growl, he yanked hard on Kon’s leg, taking the man by surprise as he tossed him aside with ease. Ichigo called out to his friend as Kon’s body skidded across the ground who cursed as his skin collected cuts, bruises, and dirt. Kon’s body came to a stop when his back struck hard rock. Small stones fell from the structure and pelted Kon’s body as a drawn-out groan tumbled from his lips and tanned fingers clutched the bump swelling on his scalp.

“Ogihci! Stop!” Uryū pleaded, “That’s enough!”

Once again they were ignored and the air rippled as Goro appeared. His soft green spiritual pressure burned the atmosphere, a pulsing heart that clashed against the Hollow’s fire. He wore a snarl that exuded pure hatred, a look of disgust and rage that was mirrored on Ogihci’s lips. They both wanted an all-out battle, to tear out each other’s throats and prove which species deserved to survive.

“Goro, stop! He’ll kill you!” Grimmjow shouted.

He shouldn’t have wasted the effort. With a booming battlecry and a poetic display of Goro’s strength, his fist shot forward at an impossible speed, headed straight for a grey freckled cheek. Before anyone could call out a warning—before anyone could register what they were seeing—white fingers caught Goro’s throat and halted scarred knuckles from reaching their destiny. The distance between their abilities was so vast, Goro was barely considered an ant to him. Ogihci lifted Goro high off the ground, the tendons in his arm popping under dead flesh when his grip tightened. The Kaizō Konpaku’s fists were no longer clenched but clawed at the powerful hand choking the air from his lungs; eyes that had been glowing green now a panicked blue hue. Nails sank into Pantera’s grip as the muscles in Grimmjow’s jaw flexed. How could that idiot ever think that he was capable of overpowering a Hollow of this caliber? It was moronic and insulting; he was going to be killed for it. As much as Grimmjow would love to see Goro’s guts outside of his body and crushed into the ground, he, unfortunately, couldn’t let that happen.

“Ogihci—,” he started, but was cut off by a low, thunderous voice.

“You,” Ogihci began, “You’re the most annoying piece of sh*t I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

Goro’s teeth flashed and parted. His tongue twitched to spit insults back, but he was unable to find his voice. Ogihci’s eyes flashed and his fingers tightened on Goro’s vulnerable throat, his armored skin impenetrable to desperate nails.

“If you weren’t needed I would crush that pathetic pill body of yours without a shred of remorse,” Ogihci said.

“H...hhh,” Goro’s nose wrinkled as he pried the Hollow’s gingers away from his throat, giving him just enough room to speak in a weak, whispered voice, “Hollows can’t...feel sh...sh*t anyways.”

That terrifying smile was back and the glow in gold eyes haunted him. “You all like to think that, don’t you?” The smile drove a blade through the man’s heart when it sharpened with final brutal words spoken so lowly that Grimmjow was sure he was the only one who heard them, “I love you as much as my king does, Goro. I want you to remember that next time you try to force open his heart.”

With a bursting breeze, Goro vanished from Ogihci’s grasp only to reappear meters away, kneeling and coughing at Urahara’s feet. The blonde smiled brightly and snapped a fan open in front of his face, eyes dancing with weary amusem*nt. “My goodness, it looks like I came just in time.”

The Hollow snorted and lowered his hand to his side. “I’m not a fan of you either, but I am indebted to you.”

Joyful irises turned reserved, caution overtaking the ex-Soul Reaper as he studied the blood-soaked creature. “Oh? How so?”

Ogihci’s face didn’t change, staying a vaguely irritated yet heavily guarded mask, refusing to respond. Kisuke chuckled and snapped the fan closed and tucked it away inside his clothing. “Well, either way, it’s nice to see you in the flesh, Mr. Hollow. Even if it is a little bit too much flesh. I assume you will want some clothing. Do you think you will be needing a Gigai?”

“I’ve known you long enough to guess that you have some nefarious plan that’ll keep me trapped inside a weak body as you did with Kitten,” Ogihci said with a jab of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m inclined to say no.” Gold irises flickered down to Goro, watching with dead eyes as the Kaizō Konpaku flinched under his cold gaze. “And I’m not done with him either.”

“I’m afraid Goro can’t play with you anymore, Mr. Hollow. While I know he thinks otherwise, Goro surely couldn’t compete against someone of your caliber,” Urahara admitted.

Goro’s shoulders stiffened and dirty fingers clawed at the earth. No. Grimmjow forced himself to look away from the man within his body, allowing him some small shred of dignity. Goro knew he didn’t stand a chance but he was willing to try no matter the cost. It was admirable; if not stupid.

“What if I promised to make your Gigai like Mr. Jaegerjaquez’ but with fewer restrictions? Would you accept that?” Urahara asked, “Without a body, there’s no telling how long you can survive on your own.”

The Hollow snorted, the sound strange in his echoed throat, and co*cked a hip as he crossed his arms again. “In other words, you don’t want me runnin’ around eating and slaughtering people. If it concerns you that much, then fine. You always do as you please anyway.”

“My, my, you have such a cold opinion of me,” Kisuke said with a cheeky grin.

The Hollow didn’t smile back. “That’s because I don’t f*ck with bullsh*t. I know who you are, what you do, and what you’ve done. I’m not gonna lie and pretend that I like you. Wouldn’t you rather treat me the way you want to?”

Kisuke’s smile splintered into a grim, half-baked crooked grin as honest dislike surfaced in his eyes. “I suppose you have a point, Hollow.”

“Just one thing,” Ogihci continued, a vicious smile curling his lips, “Don’t change my appearance to make me appear human. I won’t tolerate that sh*t. Parading around and pretending to be something I hate is a sickening thought.”

The silence was awkward, heavy, and uncomfortable after those words. Ichigo’s friends especially carried those responses upon their tense shoulders. Ichigo, oddly enough, only smiled at his Hollow as if the creature were merely joking. Grimmjow knew he wasn’t. Many Hollows held negative views toward humans and Ogihci had every right to think that way. Gold eyes drifted to the Arrancar and his smile changed, shifting to a grin that caused the pulse in his veins to stammer and shivers to tease his spine. There was no doubt in Grimmjow’s mind that Kurosaki was a god. Ogihci, however, was his equal and opposite. A demon with eyes made of wicked riches and a smile enticing the worst to emerge from Grimmjow’s soul.

It seemed they had a new roommate.

Chapter 44: Rough in Water

Chapter Text

An unrestrained whimper crawled from Grimmjow’s throat and tense shoulders slumped under the intense water pressure spat from the shower head. Within seconds his body was consumed by steam, his breath short as blood dripped down his body in rust colored streaks. He hadn’t realized how tense he was. It made sense, what with Kurosaki almost dying, his arm getting ripped to shreds, and Ogihci suddenly existing in the material world—but still, he wasn’t used to being stressed out. As far as they—Urahara and Ishida, that is—could tell, Kurosaki was fine. The hole in his chest didn’t interfere at all with the functionality of his body and couldn’t be seen while wearing his physical, flesh bound form. Aside from Ichigo and his Hollow being separated for whatever reason, everything was okay. Grimmjow sighed as he scrubbed his recently healed arm. The skin on his right arm now matched that of the left, both smooth and completely reborn. At first he hadn’t understood why Aizen had chosen that human woman to kidnap. It wasn’t until she healed him the first time did he begin to understand. Of course, like in all things, those egotistical assholes held too much pride in themselves to really think their plans through. Of all people to defect from Kurosaki’s group she seemed the least likely. Although none of them seemed to be the type that would stab Kurosaki in the back. He chose his friends wisely.

The door clicked and Grimmjow stilled. The hinges squeaked as someone slipped into the room and closed the door softly behind them. A faint hsshh hsshh hsshh whispered in Grimmjow’s ears as feet padded across the thick bathroom mat and came to a sudden stop, the room silent save for the heated hiss of the shower. Grimmjow scowled, his bangs sticking to his furrowed brow. He stretched out his arm in the cramped shower and placed his hand on the chilled, clouded glass door and scraped his palm and fingers across the smooth surface. His skin sliced through the steam and exposed a sliver of the outside world to the Arrancar. Ogihci, now dressed in a simple royal blue kimono with a deep purple obi, leaned against the wall across from him with his arms crossed over his chest. Gold eyes caught sight of blue and the Hollow smiled. Grimmjow snorted and wiped his hand across the glass again to ward off returning steam.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked.

Ogihci chuckled and his arms folded behind his back. “I just wanted to show off my new Gigai. Can’t even tell the difference, can you?”

Grimmjow only stared.

The Hollow’s smile widened. “Alright, fine. I didn’t feel like my company was desired by King’s friends. The feeling is mutual, believe me.”

“That’s no excuse to bother me while I’m busy and naked,” Grimmjow replied.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as goosebumps conquered skin. f*ck. Grimmjow chewed the inside of his cheek when a strange thrill pulsed through his body. That smile did things to him and he had no clue as to why. Those controlling golden eyes were worse. They held his body in place, commanding the muscles and tendons under his pale flesh to obey the Hollow’s every silent order. The merciless heat radiating from that intense gaze locked his lungs and tied his tongue. He didn’t stand a chance against those irises. Grimmjow shifted from one foot to the other. Was this what he was craving all this time? He was drawn to Kurosaki because of his Hollow?

“I wanted to give you a chance to stop being a puss* and take what you want,” Ogihci said, answering with complete honesty that canceled out his trickster grin.

He couldn’t help but snort. “You think I want you? Kurosaki must have a bigger ego than I thought,” Grimmjow retorted.

“Oh please, stop lying to yourself. Your eyes would've been undressing me if I hadn’t already been naked.”

“Your body is identical to Kurosaki’s. There’s nothing thrilling about something I’ve already had a taste of.”

“That’s not very nice,” Ogihci scoffed, his face holding a smile but his tone carrying a sharp edge.

“That ‘being nice’ bullsh*t doesn’t mean dick to Hollows, and you know it,” Grimmjow retorted.

A white brow arched. “We’re not exactly Hollows, are we?”

“Then what would you call us? Humans? Soul Reapers?” Grimmjow asked sardonically.

“What I call myself wouldn’t suit you. Besides, you can’t keep hiding from the truth, kitten,” Ogihci warned and brought his hands in front of himself, black nails tearing into each other with noticeable cracks, fidgeting fingers peeling loose pieces free, “You’re not as Hollow as you claim. You’re damned enough to fall into the category but just shy of being irredeemable.”

“I’ve eaten my own brethren,” Grimmjow countered.

“But did you do so with joy or remorse?” Ogihci asked.

Grimmjow scoffed and switched from one foot to the other and wiped the glass a third time. “You’re as poetic as Kurosaki.”

A genuine smile twitched across Ogihci’s lips. “I should hope so.”

“That isn’t supposed to be a compliment.”

“Then compare me to Goro if you want to insult me. You and I both know that comparing someone to King is like comparing them to a god.”

Grimmjow had nothing to say. Enemies or not, he was capable of noting the overwhelming greatness and good within Kurosaki. The boy was infuriatingly compassionate and kind to the point of being unfairly selfless and dismissive of his own being. Even a Hollow as ruthless as Ogihci could see that. Therein lies the problem. Grimmjow didn’t belong with a person like that. He wasn’t afraid of tainting Kurosaki or any bullsh*t of that degree. He was concerned about what was happening to himself; how influential a human heart could be on a heartless Hollow.

“Ugh, if you’re too chicken then I’m gonna leave,” Ogihci snorted, “Either make a move or stop wasting my time.”

Grimmjow scowled. “I told you I don’t—.”

“And I called you a liar.” Ogihci smiled—one that mirrored Kurosaki’s, faked and forced—as he patted the wall and took a step forward with a deep chuckle. “It’s pretty obvious what you want, kitten. You’ve been drooling since I showed up.”

Grimmjow’s muscles tightened. As much as he resisted such stupid wording he knew Ogihci was right, even while missing a few important details. He couldn’t believe he was that obvious. Then again, Ogihci knew how much he wanted Kurosaki. It wouldn’t take a genius to realize that he would want the Hollow as well.

“Well?” Ogihci said, interrupting Grimmjow’s thoughts with a mocking smirk, “What are you gonna do, kitten? Thrill me or disappoint me?”

Another eyelid twitch. “You’re annoying, Hollow,” Grimmjow grumbled.

“But you still wanna f*ck me, don’t you?” Ogihci asked.

A white hand took hold of the cold silver handle attached to the door as Ogihci pressed his shoulder against tiled wall beside it. A calloused thumb stroked the smooth metal and the Hollow leered when Grimmjow found himself unable to answer.

“Don’t tell me all those muscles and that snarky attitude of yours is all for show. That would break my heart,” Ogihci cooed.

“What heart?” Grimmjow scoffed.

“I’m serious, Jaegerjaquez,” Ogihci said, all signs of amusem*nt removed from his face, “Do you want me: yes or no?”

Grimmjow swallowed and dropped his eyes. Pale fingers passed through his blue hair and brushed the bangs from his eyes as he cleared his throat. He already knew the answer. He was positive Ogihci already knew the answer. The issue was admitting it to himself. This should have been easier than admitting that he wanted Kurosaki, but somehow it was just as difficult.

“I don’t...not want you,” Grimmjow said slowly.

Another smile emerged from the Hollow’s colorless lips. “So, if I were to do this…,” the shower latch popped, the sharp sound flooding his mind like an alarm as the door cracked opened, the bitter cold of the room seeping in and clashing with burning water as steam rolled out, “You wouldn’t care?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Grimmjow corrected.

“Alright. And if I were to, say, open the door,” a wall of ice slammed into Grimmjow’s body at full force and tore bumps from his skin, “You’d be okay with it?”

“It’s not gonna kill me.” Grimmjow had no idea what to do with his hands. Something about Kurosaki and his Hollow always filled him with uncertainty and it was annoying. He didn’t enjoy that feeling at all.

“And if I do this,” Ogihci stepped up to the shower until his toes teased the ledge and small droplets of water soaked into his clothes, gold eyes devouring the gorgeous sight before him, “You’ll like it?”

“I’m...definitely not going to hate it,” Grimmjow said honestly.

He was glad to be in his own body. If he were bound to a Gigai he would surely die from over exhaustion of the heart. Ogihci looked like Kurosaki, but he exuded a dangerous and deadly aura Grimmjow found intoxicating. He had never felt this from another Hollow before. From anyone, really. He had felt desire with Kurosaki, but this pull was almost carnal. It was intense and animalistic. A dark promise that one or neither of them would walk away from this without a piece of them lost in the other. This wasn’t purely desire for sex. In fact there was nothing pure about it. It was desire for battle, to rip into each other and see who will devour whom first, but with a twisted sense of sensuality that even Grimmjow was ashamed of. If they were to battle head-on, without Kurosaki interfering or holding either of them back, Ogihci would be ruthless. Grimmjow knew he would be slaughtered; like going up against Aizen, except Grimmjow would be honored—if not immensely turned on—to die at the hand of Ogihci. Bloodlust; no matter how human he looked that Hollow part of him would never dissipate. This is the kind of person he should be with. Someone as vicious and cruel as him. Someone without a heart.

“What do you say, kitten?” Ogihci murmured, inching closer as he released the door, “Are you going to take what you want?”

f*ck. He had turned into such a weak bastard. Snatching a handful of blue fabric Grimmjow yanked Ogihci to into a deep kiss, moaning as their lips met. The contrasts between Ichigo and his Hollow were quickly evident. Where Ichigo would groan and cling to him, Ogihci would growl and pull the Arrancar closer, demanding for the other to cooperate. Teeth ensnared and split Grimmjow’s bottom lip. The Arrancar snarled as blood spilled between them. Tongues invaded and clashed, both struggling to breathe as they became enamored in searching velvety cheeks. Their hands were vicious: nails raking marks into flesh and pulling hair. A snarl tore through Grimmjow’s throat when his sensitive scalp was tugged and rough fingers guided his head to tilt, allowing Ogihci deeper access, thrusting his tongue so deeply that Grimmjow started to feel overwhelmed. A clothed body pressed against his naked form, his co*ck twitching against the Hollow’s thigh at the contrast. This body was so familiar to him, yet alien all at the same time. The same lean frame he had learned and studied all these months, every inch of sculpted muscle the same right down to every last freckle—but the colors were all wrong. Ogihci wasn’t a sun; he was a moon. A frozen, lifeless wasteland that devoured and controlled everything within his relentless grasp. Kurosaki ignited a fire within his very soul, where this Hollow numbed his fingertips and dulled his senses. It was all wrong. Identical hair that was too sickly. A forest of colorless freckles, impossibly small tombstones wishing the best for the dearly departed. Cruel hands. Painful teeth. Taking instead of giving.

Long fingers ensnared his throat and squeezed, cutting off all airways as he was thrust backward. His back smashed into a frosty tiled wall and his elbow forcefully shut off the water. A strangled snarl slipped between Grimmjow’s gritted teeth as the Hollow’s grip tightened. Pressure continued to build and golden toned fingers frantically tore at unflinching white hands. Drool bubbled at his lips and dribbled down his chin. Blue eyes burned and glared at the Hollow as he exposed his teeth in a snarl. Ogihci smiled. A chuckle rattled in his throat.

“You’re cute, but f*ckin’ stupid baby Hollow. I may look like King, but I’m not as willing to roll over for a pretty face. I would’a killed you the first time we met if King hadn’t held me back. You can’t even dream of handling me.”

Blunt fingertips bore into the sides of his throat, deep into the aching hickies to coax a pathetic whine from the Arrancar. His nails scraped deep paths into Ogihci’s skin, ones that tore white flesh layer by layer until the Hollow’s arm was covered in blue lines. The Hollow chuckled and pressed their bodies together. Grimmjow tried to growl in response but the sound fell flat when grinning lips kissed his, a blue tongue gathering his blood before pulling back.

“You’re so cute when you’re pathetic,” Ogihci purred, “It makes me want to gobble you up.”

All he could manage was a furious glare. He couldn’t blame Ogihci for this. Grimmjow was the one who made the mistake in trusting a Hollow. He shouldn’t have expected honesty or any form of positive attention from someone of his own kind. Sharp teeth ground together and his mask ached. There really wouldn’t be anyone better than Kurosaki. Why had he attempted to search for something more?

Three gentle knocks seeped through the bathroom door and opened with a quiet click. “Grimmjow?”

Blue eyes widened. Lungs withered as Ichigo’s footsteps echoed in his ears like a hammer driving nails deep into the wood grain of a coffin. He struggled against the Hollow, trying to break free, only to grunt as more weight was pushed onto him. He didn’t remember Kurosaki ever being this heavy. Then again...Kurosaki had always let him have control.

Long fingers pulled back on the shower door and Ichigo stepped into view. Grimmjow braced himself, his breath caught in his throat as Ichigo stared at the two with a cluttered array of emotions that eventually landed on embarrassment. Tanned skin turned red as Ichigo dropped his eyes to the floor and yanked his hand away from the glass door. He hugged a towel to his churning stomach.

“I, um, s-sorry. I came to bring you a towel because I needed a breather from everyone worrying and Urahara isn’t prepared for anything—or so he says. I’m pretty sure it was a set up to humiliate me or, I dunno, he probably knew what we were doing earlier and was trying to make up for us being interrupted and—,” brown eyes glanced at their tangled bodies and looked away, the blush extending to pierced ears, “I’m gonna...I’m gonna stop rambling now. I should...I should leave.”

“No need, King.” The pressure around his throat disappeared and Grimmjow gasped, clawing at the wall behind him weakly. Two rough pats to the side of his face pulled a growl from his bruised throat and Ogihci smiled in return. “I think we’re done with each other.”

The smile never faded from Ogihci’s lips as he climbed out of the shower, not even under Grimmjow’s intense glare or Ichigo’s vaguely hurt sideways glance.

“You two have fun because I surely won't,” the Hollow sighed, “Your friends are extraordinarily annoying, King. I dunno how you can stand them.”

“They care for me. They’ve risked their lives for me. I couldn’t ask for anything more,” Ichigo murmured.

That sinister smile finally fell and was replaced by a disgusted snarl. “You forgive and forget too easily, King. Don’t expect me to do the same.”

And with that, he was gone, and two lovers were left in an awkward silence.

Grimmjow’s fingertips grazed the bruised skin of his throat. Ichigo wouldn’t meet his eyes. Those warm brown irises that he had become so accustomed to were busy studying the white towel rung and twisted in scarred hands, trying to avoid the very obvious elephant in the room. He swallowed slowly and cringed at the twitch of pain. He had made a mistake. A big one.

“I’m...I’m sorry for interrupting,” Ichigo stammered.

If Grimmjow had a heart he was sure it would be tightening in his chest. The brat really felt obligated to apologize for doing nothing wrong. No universe—no god nor afterlife, deserved such a soul.

“Don’t be,” Grimmjow said, waiting for Ichigo to meet his gaze to continue, “He was a mistake. He’s nothing like you.”

That was a smile Grimmjow would rather see. Granted, it was small, but hell, it was genuine, kind, and warm. A smile he could appreciate outside of a lustful haze.

“W-well, um, h-here.”

Ichigo offered the towel, to which Grimmjow quickly fastened onto his hips. Whether they had f*cked or not doesn’t matter. He felt enough shame to wear five winter coats if he had them.

Ichigo’s smile slipped to a frown and his brow knitted as he took a step forward. Muscles tensed as rough fingertips traced the budding red ring around Grimmjow’s neck. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Grimmjow couldn’t help but soften under the boy’s concerned touch. He smiled and eased his face into the hand that cradled his cheek. This version of Kurosaki, the caring human who always thought of others first, this was the version he liked. Hollows were dicks anyways. Grimmjow couldn’t trust someone like Ogihci. But Ichigo...Ichigo was different.

“I’m fine, Kurosaki. We should be worrying about you. How’s it feel to live life with an empty chest?” Grimmjow asked, tapping the ginger’s hard sternum.

He could feed on that chuckle for years and his laughter for ages.

“The depressed part of me wants to claim that there’s no difference, but...it does feel a bit odd.” Ichigo pressed a hand to his chest without letting go of Grimmjow’s cheek, his thumb grazing wet skin. “Living without a heart...it’s definitely going to be weird.”

“You think that Hollow is your heart?” Grimmjow asked.

Ichigo smiled and his hand fell away from his chest. “He’s a big part of it, I think. But if you’re worried about it,” that smile shifted into a smirk as Ichigo leaned in and drew Grimmjow closer with a tug on his jaw, “What I feel around you hasn’t changed because of that. Especially not when you look like this.”

This time it was Grimmjow’s turn to blush, and he did, big time. His cheeks burned a brilliant, undeniable red that strengthened Ichigo’s smug smile and increased his humiliation. “Y-you’re way too full of yourself, Kurosaki. I don’t give a sh*t about how you feel about me, or even what you think of me.”

What a sh*tty, ironic, little lie he had told himself.

Chapter 45: Flawless

Chapter Text

He had never avoided someone like this before. Grimmjow wasn’t the type to hide in the shadows for a chance to escape confrontation. Normally he did the exact opposite of that. Being the outspoken, needling type is what lead to his arm being cut off by Tosen and publicly shamed by Aizen to make him look like a fool—neither of which he regretted. Even if he was killed for it, getting under someone’s skin was a win in his book. This, however, was different. He hadn’t gotten under Ogihci’s skin, the Hollow had gotten under his. He should’ve known. What with Ogihci being apart of Ichigo, of course the Hollow was just as good at getting to him as his “king”. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing. Then again hiding in Ichigo’s room like a child wasn’t any better.

Grimmjow groaned and rolled onto his stomach, letting his back soak up the sun’s warm rays while burying his face deep in a pillow. He wished Kurosaki were here instead of his Hollow. That way he could get something to eat and his stomach would finally shut up, and he wouldn’t have to deal with those gold eyes alone. Damn that school for taking up so much of Kurosaki’s time—and for limiting the time they had together in the mornings. Thick thighs pressed together as Grimmjow blushed faintly. Kurosaki had gotten into the routine of waking him up in a...very unconventional way. At first, it was simple little kisses, nothing special or spectacular. Then the ginger moved to deeper kisses, ones that involved tongues and fingers carding through his hair. Now the human had evolved beyond that by waking him up with a deep kiss and then slowly moving down his body until Grimmjow was bucking into that hot, wet, and tight throat of his. It always left Grimmjow wanting more; to watch that violated mouth moan his name and that scarred body, drenched in sweat, to writhe under him. They were always interrupted by that damn alarm who insisted Kurosaki go to class. f*ck education. Grimmjow wanted to f*ck Kurosaki’s brains out and he was tired of sh*t getting in the way.

An angry snarl tore from Grimmjow’s stomach and the Arrancar groaned. He really didn’t want to leave this room. He had no idea if Ogihci was awake or not—it’s likely he was because no one could sleep on a couch that uncomfortable—but he didn’t want to face the smug bastard without backup. Hell, at this point he’d even accept Ishida’s company. Grimmjow made a face. Yikes. That was desperate.

An untamed fire singed Grimmjow’s senses and the Arrancar jolted. He pushed himself onto his knees, clutching his chest as the artificial heart raced. That spiritual pressure...it was across town but he couldn’t mistake it. Ogihci? How? Wasn’t the Hollow’s Gigai built like his own? Had he left after Ichigo and he hadn’t noticed?

Grimmjow gritted his teeth and scrambled out of bed, “sh*t.”

Once his feet hit the floor he rushed to the bedroom door and wrenched it open—freezing in place when Ogihci looked up from a manga he was reading with a curious glance.

“You alright, man? I dunno what you look like normally, but right now it isn’t good, dude,” the man replied.

Grimmjow’s brow furrowed and he took a careful step forward. Something was wrong. His voice didn’t echo. In fact, the voice was softer and, if he had to guess, carried a faint Quechua accent. Those eyes were kinder, too, in an uncaring and unbothered sort of way. “Og...Ogihci?” Grimmjow asked, “How are you here? I felt your spiritual pressure across town. I can still feel it.”

“Probably is him,” the man noted. He held his thumb between the pages to keep his place as he dug inside his pocket, humming when he found what he was searching for and held it up. A small blue tube with the head of a grinning white lizard on top and garish, yet familiar, pink lettering labeling the contents. Grimmjow’s heart plummeted.

“Ogi was hungry. Left to get a light snack half an hour ago,” the Kaizō Konpaku explained, continuing where he left off on the page he bookmarked.

“Why didn’t you stop him! You must know he’s a Hollow!” Grimmjow demanded.

The man hummed, turned the page, and set the container aside. “Not my problem,” a smile twitched across his lips, “Besides, I’m pretty sure he wanted you to follow him, not me.”

“Aren’t you a Kaizō Konpaku? Aren’t you made to hunt, kill, and destroy Hollows? How could you let someone that dangerous go?” Grimmjow barked over his shoulder as he dashed into the kitchen. He ripped drawers open one after another, digging through them to find the discarded dispenser. Where the f*ck did he put Goro? The bastard pissed him off last night after making a remark about him and Ogihci—stupid sh*t like, “You and that filthy creature nearly f*cked in Urahara-dono’s shower? Shocker. Never expected two inappropriate and bloodthirsty beasts like you two would get along.” Grimmjow had lost his temper and cramped Goro into a junk drawer and now, when he actually needed the bitch, he was nowhere to be found.

“Whoever told you that bullsh*t is a sick f*ck who lets his creators dictate his beliefs and ambitions. I have no desire to be used so easily,” the man snorted, “Although I do find it strange that a Hollow would be insistent on me killing a member of its kind.”

“You’d have no chance at killing Ogihci. He’d annihilate you before you could ever form a plan,” Grimmjow grumbled, “You’d only be a distraction.”

“Either you really want to suck that Hollow’s dick, or you seriously believe that bullsh*t you just said,” the Kaizō Konpaku replied, the grin on his face bubbling with confidence without an ounce of arrogance.

The high level of security the Kaizō Konpaku possessed enticed Grimmjow to pause in his search and stare openly. He didn’t seem to be over embellishing or bragging. Could he be serious? Was it even possible to create artificial life with enough power to go against Ogihci? Grimmjow shook his head with a snort. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. He had to stop Ogihci before he made a very big mistake.

“f*ckin’ finally!” Grimmjow huffed, ripping a mocking container from a drawer and slamming it closed.

He pushed down on the cat’s head and swallowed the pill hurriedly, choking from his own rushed persistence. Moments later his body was pushed from the Gigai and his hand held tightly onto Pantera’s hilt as he fought off a wave of vertigo. Ogihci’s spiritual pressure was even stronger in this form. The Gigai must dull his senses. Daydreaming about Kurosaki probably didn’t help either.

“Grimmjow!”

He really didn’t have time for this.

“What the f*ck are you doing outside of your body when you’re not train—,” Goro’s irritated ranting came to a halt when his eyes landed on a smirking face. He blinked once, twice, and by the third time Grimmjow wasn’t sure the Hollow’s Gigai could take the strain of the Kaizō Konpaku’s ever widening grin. Not that...Ogihci didn’t do the same.

Goro used both arms to gesture at the newcomer with an incredulous look on his face. “Who the hell is this! Where’s Ichigo’s Hollow—,” Goro paused and his eyes widened when he sensed the spiritual pressure in the distance, “Is that his spiritual pressure? What the f*ck are you two doing? How did the Hollow get a Kaizō Konpaku? Ichigo will pop a gasket if that damn Hollow—.”

“f*ckin’ shut your mouth, Goro! No one can think when you nag like a goddamn moron! I’m trying to take care of it, but first I need you to understand that you have to stay here and keep an eye on whoever the hell that is,” Grimmjow ordered as he headed for the bedroom door.

“Shōkōhin,” the Kaizō Konpaku replied and licked his thumb to turn the page, “And Ogihci stole me from Urahara’s when no one was looking. For a highly intelligent scientist the man has shoddy security.”

“He’s an ex-Captain, he doesn’t need security. And the people he lets inside are people he trusts,” Goro countered.

“With that logic that means he trusts the Arrancar.”

Goro scowled and Shōkōhin lifted his eyes from the manga one last time. “Seems to me either he wanted Ogihci to take me or you’re gonna have to admit that Soul Reaper’s aren’t omnipotent gods.”

“Are you siding with Hollows?” Goro asked, offended by the mere notion.

Shōkōhin smiled. “You’re going to be a piece of work, aren’t you?”

“Argue all you want, I don’t give a sh*t,” Grimmjow interjected before the bickering could continue, “Goro, watch him.”

Shōkōhin frowned. “It’s not hi—,” but Grimmjow was already gone, jumping off the balcony and tracking down the troubling Hollow.

The Kaizō Konpaku snorted and crossed one leg over the other. “Nevermind. No point in explaining it over and over again. By the way, you might want to throw on a shirt, Goto, you’re starting to nip.”

“It’s Goro.”

“Whatever.”

Grimmjow parted his lips and pulled in a deep breath. Ogihci’s spiritual pressure rolled over his tongue in thick waves, staining his taste buds like syrup that nearly caused him to groan. Ogihci was baiting Hollows. Only the young and weak would fall for it but Grimmjow had to admit it was pretty engenius. He had disguised himself, his scent transformed from the powerful threat he was to a young, greenhorn Hollow. Spiritual pressure flailing, inflating and dying out to imitate a newborn’s first steps. Grimmjow pulled in another breath. There was a tinge of fear and vulnerability in there, too. Ogihci had done this before and mastered it. It wasn’t Grimmjow’s style of hunting but he could respect the technique. In theory. Reality was always worse, crueler.

He almost missed it entirely but was saved by a sudden spike in the Hollow’s energy, the heavy aura leading him between the tight cracks of two buildings. He finally found Ogihci standing in a dark corner shrouded in the alley’s shadows—but he wasn’t alone. A massive Hollow bound in muscle towered over Ogihci and paced back and forth before him. Drool oozed from the teeth of its mask and a tongue slipped free and traced the cracks in anticipation. Grimmjow stopped, kneeled at the edge of one of two buildings and held himself back as he watched everything unfold. Coming between a Hollow and potential food was dangerous, and there were two Hollows ready to take lives.

“You’re small,” the Hollow said.

“Is this where I’m supposed to call you big boy and swoon over your big meaty hands and what that means for the size of the meat between your legs?” Ogihci asked with crossed arms and a co*cked hip.

The Hollow paused. “What?”

Ogihci sighed and placed his face into his hand. “This is why I abandoned our race. I’m unappreciated in my time.”

“You talk too much,” the Hollow growled, “I grow impatient, little one.”

“By all means, big daddy,” Ogihci said with a revolting grin, “Take what you want.”

Without hesitation, the Hollow roared and lurched forward. Meter long claws came within inches of Ogihci’s unimpressed face and the Arrancar’s breath caught—when he vanished. Grimmjow couldn’t deny the fear he felt. It welled within him as he watched the Hollow’s body twist and break at odd, painful angles by a white blur. At least the Hollow’s violent cry drowned out the sound of bones splintering through skin. The piercing scream halted with a brisk snap of the neck and the Hollow crumbled at Ogihci’s feet. Grimmjow swallowed. Terrifying was an understated description of this creature. If Grimmjow couldn’t track his movements then that Hollow definitely hadn’t understood what happened to him. It was brutal and cruel even by his standards. Grimmjow wasn’t the type to make his prey suffer unless they deserved it. He ended things quickly. What Ogihci did...was so much darker than Grimmjow could ever be. How could something like this come from someone like Ichigo?

“You’re at such a low level,” Ogihci sighed as he stepped around the corpse, bending down to take hold of the monster’s head and lifting it off the ground, “You won’t even justify as a snack.”

Grimmjow’s eyes widened as he parted his lips to speak but the words caught in his throat, missing his chance to stop Ogihci before his perfect teeth sank into a leather covered skull. The dead Hollow’s scalp cracked effortlessly under Ogihci’s strong jaw. Blood spurted from the wounds and coated the creature’s jaw, painting him in a thick layer of red that stained his clothes and soaked him to the bone. Grimmjow felt his guts churn at the sight. Ogihci took another bite and moaned, ignoring the blood that speckled his cheeks as if he were merely enjoying a juicy, rich red apple. Jaw clenched, Ogihci pulled hard when the corpse refused to tear and snarled until flesh split with a terrifying rip.

“What…,” Grimmjow swallowed and struggled to find his voice, anger growing, “Ogihci! What the f*ck do you think you’re doing!”

Gold eyes locked his body in place. He couldn’t advance nor retreat, stuck and forced to cling to the building’s edge like a frightened stray alley cat. Ridged teeth crunched on bone and blood squirted from tattered meat. The Hollow chewed slowly as he arched a brow. “Mhhpphh—,” Ogihci sighed with a roll of his eyes and swallowed. The large chunk of Hollow unhinged his jaw and expanded his throat as it inched down, then cleared to allow him to speak, “I figured a Hollow even as young as yourself would know what I’m doin’. I’m starved. You think Ichigo lets me eat? And the hell are you doing so far away?”

Grimmjow scowled. With a swift step he appeared a few meters away from the creature. He needed to approach this calmly. “Your Gigai can eat human food. You don’t have to do this.”

Ogihci sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know that. Do you know how sick and tired I am of human food? I was able to sustain life and power by using Ichigo’s soul to fuel my existence, and whatever he ate, I ate. Over twenty years of human food I suffered through and now I finally get to eat what I was meant to. You really think I’m going to give that up?”

With a sickening pop, the Hollow’s jaw unhinged again and stretched wide to fit the rest of the corpse’s head into his massive maw and snapped shut with a violent spray of red.

“Ogihci, stop!” Grimmjow barked.

The corpse crumpled with a hard thunk and Grimmjow bit his own tongue. That was not a move he should have made. The Hollow snagged the body’s wrist and planted a foot deep into a set of ribs. Gold eyes watched him closely as he began to pull. Grimmjow cringed as the limb stretched until it reached its limit and the arm popped free from the socket, then snapped.

“That’s enough! Ogih—!”

“Holy sh*t, stop f*ckin’ bitching at me! Goddamn!” Ogihci threw the arm aside and sucked on the ends of his fingers, licking the digits clean until his white skin was visible. “You whine way too much, kitten.”

Grimmjow’s eyelid twitched. “I’m not whining. You need to stop. If Ichigo knew what you were doing he’d lose it. Together or apart you are still the same being. If you eat Souls or even Hollows that can be saved, that blood is on his hands.”

White teeth sparkled amongst a sea of dark blood. He hadn’t bothered once to wipe the gore away; completely content with being a monster. “You think I want to deal with his bitching? Even if he finds out, and that’s a large if, I’m only eating Hollows that can’t be saved,” he lifted a finger for each listed offender, “Murderers, pedophiles, racists, hom*ophobic and transphobic assholes, abusive sons of bitches; each and every Hollow drenched in unforgivable sins are my prey.” Ogihci paused to lick his lips, excitement buzzing in the cold depths of gold irises. “To be honest, kitten, those Hollows always taste sweeter. They relish in taking lives of the innocent. When their heads swell with co*cky pride I get to have all the fun in crushing them and watching their confidence morph into pathetic fear.”

Ogihci’s spiritual pressure flared, rising and falling with enticing pulses that caused even Grimmjow to salivate. He was too good at this. Luring Hollows into his trap. Sneak attacks and dismissive of lives—even if those lives weren’t worth the sweat and blood of an angel like Ichigo. This man, this creature, was nothing like Kurosaki. One by one Hollows surrounded them and Grimmjow’s insides churned. If Ogihci’s tantalizing spiritual pressure was affecting him enough to make him drool, he could only imagine how mad the Hollows were being driven.

“You’re sick. You can’t even be certain that these Hollows aren’t redeemable,” Grimmjow argued.

That smile again. He hated that smile. He hated what it did to him. It chilled his spine and made his flesh crawl...and thrilled him to no end. Ogihci approached slowly and ignored the presence of panting, starving Hollows that circled them. When the creature drew close enough to count the chunks of flesh between white teeth Grimmjow’s hand drifted down to Pantera grip and held on tightly. He always sought support and comfort from her; although, for once, she was silent. She didn’t want to oppose this creature. Why?

“Sick? That’s the nature of being a Hollow, baby. You can hide it all you want, but I know you’re starving and just as eager to sink your teeth into a Hollow as I am. You haven’t even realized that your claws have slipped out,” Ogihci said with a jerk of his chin.

Grimmjow glanced down. He sucked in a deep breath, lungs frozen as he stared at his black fingers and wicked claws that glistened in the slim beam of light. The Hollow was right. He hadn’t noticed. Nor had he noticed the heavenly scents flooding the air. He parted his lips and tasted it. Ogihci’s was by far the most noticeable. Heavily flavored with a sour sweetness and a powerful spice. The other Hollows tasted like garbage in comparison, but it was garbage his body yearned for. A whimper was forcefully swallowed. He ached for it.

A hand snatched his clothes and yanked him forward. Unable to stop himself Grimmjow stumbled into Ogihci, their bodies colliding in a wild array of familiar yet alien limbs. Chest to chest and hip to hip, each and every last inch of their bodies touched and Grimmjow found it impossible to breathe. He didn’t dare risk tasting that air again. Only their lips kept their distance and that was quickly waning, too. The Hollow smiled and Grimmjow stilled. It was different from the others. It wasn’t soft, but there weren’t any sharp edges that pricked his skin. For a split second he looked like Ichigo. Not the submissive one, the one that had pinned him against the wall and cut his skin with his own blade. The Ichigo he desperately wanted to see again. A rough hand took hold of his jaw and Grimmjow couldn’t contain his moan. He loved those rough hands. They were so brutish for such a pretty face. Except the one wearing this face was brutish. A harsh jerk on his jaw angled his head as Ogihci inspected him. He smiled.

“You’re gorgeous like this, y’know? So hungry that you’re drooling all over yourself.” The pad of his thumb brushed across Grimmjow’s chin and wiped away a small dribble of saliva. Then his hand slipped down Grimmjow’s neck and left a trail of blood and spit smeared across golden skin, and stopped at the beginnings of a scar. “C’mon, kitten, I know you’re dying for a taste. How long do you think that Gigai is going to support your appetite? Wait too long and you’ll end up going on a rampage.” The hand slipped over prominent pecs and carved abs, sliding further and further down as Grimmjow’s legs shook until—he gasped, electrified by wet fingertips teasing the sensitive edge of the hole in his stomach. His jaw twitched as he tried to spit out words, but he found himself unable to say anything. All he could do was groan as that hand mimicked its human counterpart, circling the edge slowly and repeatedly until he felt over pleasured tears burn the corner of his eyes. Gold eyes studied his reactions; the owner chuckled. “Truthfully I wouldn’t mind seeing that side of you.”

Fingers drew closer and closer to touching the singed and blackened flesh inside when he pulled away slowly, leaving the hairs on Grimmjow’s body standing on end. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from calling the man back. Ogihci smirked, obviously proud of his work, and a tongue dashed over his lips. Grimmjow copied the motion and immediately regretted it. Blood gathered on his tongue, placed there by Ogihci’s clever fingers, and sizzled on Grimmjow’s taste buds. It burned with flavors he couldn’t believe he had forgotten. Hell, they rivaled Ichigo’s cooking. He couldn’t hold back the moan that bubbled at his lips. It was a gutteral noise, the type that sounded closer to a growl than one of need. He muted himself quickly with the back of his hand, but it didn’t help. f*ck. Grimmjow’s fingers couldn’t stop shaking. His teeth were so eager to carve that he bit his own flesh, praying that he wouldn’t slice his veins open and, secretly, wishing they would cause such damage. Blue eyes froze on the colorless Kurosaki replica. Months ago this was the kind of monster he would take as a lover. Someone as despicable as himself that would slaughter and eat without care or concern—and looked just as good while doing it. His eyes pulled away from the hypnotic grin and stared at the blood soaking pale skin and blue robes. But this...he couldn’t do this. It was despicable. It was monstrous. He understood that now and he couldn’t do it anymore. He could survive by eating human food. Grimmjow’s mask ached and burned on the side of his face. He dropped his gaze. But for how long? That he didn’t know. Was Ogihci right? Was he about to reach his limit? He didn’t know that either. He couldn’t think straight. His vision was blurring and he couldn’t breathe, intoxicated by the blood cursing his tongue and those haunting gold eyes. He couldn’t do this. He needed to leave. He had to leave. Or else.

Hollows surrounded them, pouring down from the heavens and clawing the walls. Eager to feast. Eager to kill. Not feeling an ounce of confliction. Mindlessness had its advantages. All of them varied in size and shape, design and function, but they all moaned about the same thing. They wished that he and Ogihci had been weak women, to savour their silly little screams, of course. They wished they were children, wanting to play with crying little brats by batting around their bodies until they died. They wished for them to be vulnerable victims. To take advantage. Monsters.

Ogihci looked at the surrounding beasts with little interest. “Don’t be so loud, all of you. I’m gonna go deaf if you—.”

A wet crunch interrupted Ogihci and a wave of blood sprayed his clothes and spat on his face, staining impeccable white hues. Shock widened glowing gold eyes as they watched Grimmjow’s sharp teeth crack bone and shred muscle. Clawed hands shoved a crushed skull deeper into the concrete roof until the fragile bone shattered. Relieved moans tumbled from Grimmjow’s bloody lips as he devoured the Hollow eagerly, ravenous as he disregarded his appearance and took one bite after another and barely took a moment to chew or breath. He snapped the Hollow’s ribs to open its stomach and dove in, swallowing organs with greed and ignorant of the blood smearing across his skin and dying his hair. The meat of a low ranking Hollow was usually so rotten it made him sick, but these Hollows were different. They weren’t weak. Red blood instead of black was always an indication that they were close to evolution. Ogihci lured in a real feast.

“f*ck,” Ogihci’s voice was husky and deep, almost purring as he watched the Arrancar, “That’s too damn sexy, man. You’re not supposed to be givin’ me a boner at a time like this.”

“Either you shut up and join me or I’ll devour you too,” Grimmjow snapped, baring his blood stained teeth. He tossed the empty corpse aside, bored and unwilling to eat the rest. There was no point in eating the parts he didn’t like. There was plenty of prey to eat. Pinpoint pupil eyes skimmed the crowd, listing the prey he wanted in his mind. The bigger ones were always his favorites. Strength of the Hollow didn’t typically matter to him, but size did. The more meat on their bones the more worthwhile and fulfilling they would be. At least in his book they were.

Hysterical laughter burst from Ogihci as he smiled viciously at the Arrancar. “Atta boy, kitten! This is the Jaegerjaquez I remember! Eat until there isn’t a single Hollow left!”

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t know why, but he smiled too. The type of smile that had spread fear through Fracción and Adjuchas for hundreds of years. Ogihci took it in stride as easily as he tore a Hollow in two with his hands alone. Grimmjow was tempted to describe their actions as a dance, but that was far too elegant for a bloodbath. Neither held back when they slaughtered Hollows one after another. They massacred each and every last one, ripping limbs from torsos and heads from necks, feasting on corpses—some of which screamed as they engorged themselves. They weren’t concerned in making sure their victims were dead before taking the sustenance they needed. They were only Hollows, after all. It had been either minutes or hours, which he wasn’t sure, but Grimmjow felt invigorated. Alive. He hadn’t realized how sluggish he had become over these last few months. How tired he was on the daily. This is what he needed; to be a Hollow again.

A small, flickering spiritual pressure invaded his wild thoughts and his smile fractured. He knew that spiritual pressure. Dropping the half eaten Hollow Grimmjow whipped around in search for the source. His eyes spotting a familiar burst of orange hair at the end of the alley, a beautiful boy amongst a sea of nondescript pedestrians.

No.

Blue eyes filled with fear and his high dissipated with the help of brutal reality. Those brown eyes saw everything. His clothes soaked so deeply in blood that the only color he wore was red. A broken wing twitching in his clawed grasp, eyes wild and mouth full of flesh and bone. Ichigo saw it all. Every last inch of who he was. The meat on his tongue soured and Grimmjow spat it out. The disgust that resulted in Ichigo’s honey eyes caused Grimmjow to feel as if he were swarmed with giant roaches.

No!

“I-Ichigo…,” Grimmjow whispered.

Somehow, someway, Kurosaki heard him from such a great distance, and flinched. He bristled at the sound of his name on Grimmjow’s tongue, clutching the strap of his bag tightly as his face flooded with fear, distrust, and rage.

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow started, a whine softening his voice. He took a step forward.

The ginger’s eyes hardened and took a step back, bumping into an unnamed stranger, too horrified to apologize. Grimmjow parted his lips again and brown eyes turned to glare hard at the ground. Ichigo refused to acknowledge him, dropping his head down low as he stormed away and disappeared into the crowd.

Grimmjow’s mask ached. His eyes stung. Neither were from pleasure this time. Why did they burn?

“Do you really think he isn’t bothered by it? A boy whose mother was killed by a Hollow doesn’t care about you being a Hollow? His blood belongs to that of Soul Reapers and Quincies. He’s bred to despise you and your kind. Sadly, Ichigo has a bad habit of forgetting that not everything with a human face is actually human. Sooner or later he’ll remember, and when he does this sick joke will come to an end. So don’t get attached, Jaegerjaquez. You can only play human for so long.”

Grimmjow’s breath hitched and the wing fell gracelessly from his hand, claws receding. He was a monster and Kurosaki finally saw it. He finally understood. Goro was right. Goro was right.

Harsh laughter stabbed Grimmjow’s cold back, the sound followed by grotesque expressions of death and glee. Ogihci killed the final Hollow by ripping out its throat with his teeth, still smiling even when he met Grimmjow’s broken gaze. “King has always been such a baby when it comes to death. It’s pathetic, really. Humans like him can’t handle a little cannibalism.”

Chapter 46: The Liar

Chapter Text

Pacing. Back and forth he paced in front of the apartment door and never strayed more than a foot before turning back in the other direction. It had only been thirty minutes since he returned home but it was half an hour he felt completely exiled. Returning through the balcony doors seemed like an intrusion. He wasn’t sure Kurosaki wanted him to return in the first place. Breaking into his room as if he owned it would send the wrong message. Grimmjow rubbed his face with the back of his hand. He had been scrubbing his face since Kurosaki saw him and tried persistently to erase the ghoulish blood on his skin. There was no point. It was already dry. Most of it, anyway. Besides, his clothes were just as unsalvageable. Grimmjow chewed on his lip and scratched his cheek, breaking off bits of blood piece by piece. The moment Ichigo walked away from him he had chased the ginger home and left Ogihci behind. He should’ve dragged the Hollow with him, he knew that, but he had been too preoccupied with that look in Ichigo’s eyes to even consider it. Nails dug deeper into a soft cheek and carved red lines through browning blood. Even when they were enemies—Grimmjow paused his pacing and pulled a face. They were still enemies. They were. That’s what hurt. What Ichigo thinks of him isn’t supposed to hold any meaning but it does. And for that exact stupid reason, he can’t conjure enough courage to open the apartment door and confront him. It was pathetic. An Arrancar, an ex-Espada, a deadly Hollow, was terrified of what a human thought of him. Nails peeled skin from his cheek and fingers pried at his mask, unknowingly trying to tear the bone from his flesh. What happened to him?

The door flew open and Grimmjow jumped as a shadow towered over him; Goro stared back with a cold mask. Grimmjow found himself cowering under the scrutiny and avoided the Kaizō Konpaku’s eyes. This was the exact moment Goro had been waiting for. The day he f*cked up and Kurosaki was reminded of what he was. He had expected the blasted pill to gloat and grin and find the quickest way into Kurosaki’s pants, but he did none of those things. He was livid. He was angry and disgusted not for himself and his beliefs but for Ichigo. Nails sawed at the seam between his mask and cheek. Ichigo had to hate him. f*ck. Was he even going to be able to explain himself? Hell, even apologize? Would Ichigo refuse to see him? Speak to him? Was he going to return to Hueco Mundo? He gritted his teeth. All of this uncertainty made him queasy.

“Judging by your appearance and the fact that Ichigo won’t even look at me, my guess is you f*cked up pretty damn badly. Didn’t you, Hollow?” Goro asked.

It hurt to swallow. Choking on the spine of a Vasto Lorde was easier than this. “Yeah,” Grimmjow replied.

“I warned you this would happen,” Goro said, voice as cold as his expression. Grimmjow had no idea his own face could be so frightening.

“I know,”he agreed with a nod.

Goro didn’t budge from the doorway and Grimmjow wasn’t inclined to ask him to move. Everything had shifted. The kingdom changed and the old ruler was left to rot at the bottom of the food chain. He couldn’t argue against it. He deserved it.

“For f*ck’s sake, let him in. I wanna see what he looks like.”

Goro glanced over his shoulder and Grimmjow sucked in a brief breath. “The hell do you want to see him for? It’s sick,” Goro scoffed.

“Never claimed to be healthy. Move.”

Goro rolled his eyes and snorted but pulled back anyways, allowing Grimmjow inside. He took a tentative step forward, and then another, and continued until he stood in the center of the kitchen, frozen in place by haunting gold eyes. Ogihci—no, it was the Kaizō Konpaku. Shōkōhin smiled, the action much less cruel and violent than the Hollow’s, and appraised Grimmjow’s body with a lick of his lips.

“Damn. Not gonna lie, this whole wild man look is really doing it for me. Probably because I’ve got a thing for the stupid, angry types,” Shōkōhin chuckled.

“Glad you can laugh about this,” Goro said sardonically, “Do you know how many lives he took?”

The smile fell from Shōkōhin’s face, looking unimpressed. “They were Hollows, Goto—.”

“Goro.”

“Whatever. Why do you care? I’ve only known you for a few hours but it’s obvious you’re the type of jackass that claims no Hollow is worth saving. Besides, you think there aren’t other Hollows out there cannibalizing each other?” Shōkōhin smirked at Grimmjow. “Not gonna lie, man. Wish I could’a been there to see it. Ogihci had to be quite the charmer to make you lose control.”

Goro’s face twisted in repulsion. “What kind of Kaizō Konpaku are you?”

The man smiled again. “Apparently the only smart one in the room.”

A snarl twisted Goro’s face as he took a threatening step forward with an insult built upon his tongue, but was stopped by Grimmjow who caught his wrist. Identical eyes met.

“I need my body, back,” Grimmjow said and tried to swallow his desperation, “Please.”

Goro’s nose wrinkled and wrenched his arm from the Arrancar’s grasp. “What part of our f*cked up, hateful relationship makes you think that I’m willing to help you?”

“Oh? Are you f*cking the Arrancar too?” Shōkōhin asked. He looked thoroughly entertained with his smiling face resting on his fist.

“Shut up! As if I would ever let this monster touch me,” Goro snapped.

“Ah, so you have sh*tty taste.”

“Shut your f*cking mouth.”

“Maybe you’re just racist.”

“They’re Hollows! They aren’t people!”

A deadpan stare washed the smile from Shōkōhin’s lips. “Wow. Mommy never taught you about the birds and the bees? About how storks bring babies and how those babies grow up, die, and turn into Hollows?”

“What the hell is wrong with—?” Grimmjow’s fingers wrapped around Goro’s wrist again and the man reacted by ripping his hand away and raising a glowing fist in defense. “Touch me one more goddamn time Arrancar and see if Ichigo gives a sh*t about whether or not I kill you.”

He recoiled from the man’s words. They shouldn’t hurt him but f*ck, they did. Greatly. “Listen to me, Goro. I know you don’t like me and, trust me, I get it. Not a huge fan of myself most of the time, but I need my Gigai back. I have to talk to Ichigo. I can’t...let him see me like this. Not again,” Grimmjow murmured, hands fisting in his pockets.

He could tell Goro was going to say no. It was spiteful, an action Goro took before any other, but he wasn’t given a chance to say it.

The voice was faint, nearly impossible to hear even for Grimmjow, and it drifted through the air so slowly that it took him a moment to recognize who was speaking. “Don’t get back in your Gigai.” Grimmjow’s shoulders slumped. He knew that broken voice. It was Ichigo. “I want to see you. The real you.”

It wasn’t just hard to swallow. He could barely breathe, too. Ichigo wanted to see him. The real him. Reflexively his hands lifted to his face. Nails cracked and scraped flakes of blood from his skin and fingers pulled on his unclean mask. There was no way he could get it off. Not before he tore off his own skin. His flesh was already hot to the touch, his body trying to ward against harmful claws.

Goro released an annoyed grunt and slapped Grimmjow’s hands away from his face. “You’re only spreading it, dumbass. Your hands aren’t dry yet. Stop wasting time and get in there.”

He was right. Again. Grimmjow popped his knuckles anxiously one by one and slowly approached the door. This room used to be his sanctuary. Now he was afraid to even touch the handle. Holding his breath, Grimmjow slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. The cold doorknob stung his skin but he refused to release it. He had never felt terrified to stand in someone’s presence before. Ichigo, beautiful as always but now strangely frightening, sat on the edge of their bed. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest with every muscle tense and strained. One long leg rested on top of the other and brown eyes, those soft brown eyes, were hard as they glared heatedly at his lap.

“Ich—.”

Nothing could prepare Grimmjow for those eyes when they struck him. The hateful and judgmental gaze was more deadly than any blade or Hollow’s teeth. Grimmjow’s grip tightened on the doorknob and he gave up breathing. Guilt twisted and churned inside his chest as he started to sweat. A wave of queasiness overtook him. The walls were closing down around him. His vision darkened. He needed to breathe. He couldn’t breathe. This was so much worse than those random moments he lost his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

The ringing in his ears had to be f*cking with him. Grimmjow blinked and gulped, forcing himself to speak in a cracked voice. “What?”

Those gorgeous brown eyes had melted, soft enough to touch, and flooded with sorrow. Ichigo dropped his arms into his lap and lowered his gaze. Shame oozed from his body and the dark aura filled the sunlit room. “For the way I reacted when I...saw you.” Tanned fingers tugged and played with a loose thread on the bottom of an olive green shirt. “I’m sorry. It was disrespectful and cruel. I shouldn’t have...looked at you like that.”

Well, his ears weren’t ringing anymore, so he couldn’t blame that. Was he imagining this? Had he actually passed out? “Are you...apologizing to me? For being angry about me eating Hollows?” Grimmjow asked.

The ginger smiled carefully and wound the thread around his finger. “Yeah, I am. I wasn’t being fair to you. When I saw you I...it was a shock, of course, but it made me realize how I’ve been treating you,” he pulled the thread tightly, “All this time I’ve...I’ve been making you adapt to my expectations. I should have known that human food wouldn’t tie you over for long. Assuming that it would put you in danger, and I’m sorry.”

This was real. Fingers drifted from the gilded doorknob and Grimmjow felt his chest swell. Ichigo wasn’t angry. He apologized. He understood. He felt the beginning itch of a relieved smile on the corners of his lips. How could he doubt Ichigo? This man, no matter what he went through, he always saw the best in people. Ichigo saw the best in him, an Arrancar. He truly was—the faint curls on the corners of his lips vanished. The thread wound around Ichigo’s finger was pulled too tightly. Flesh bulged between the haphazard netting and pulsed a deep red, circulation cut off. Brow furrowed, Grimmjow looked at the ginger’s smile. Too sweet. Too sharp. f*ck. It was times like this he was glad he didn’t have a heart. The ache in his mask more than made up for the missing pain.

A growl rumbled in his throat and Grimmjow‘s fist struck the door, ignoring how the ginger jolted at the booming sound. “Don’t do that to me, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Teeth grinding, Grimmjow glared at the floor. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he honestly seeking the approval of a f*cking human?

“That. The same bullsh*t you pull with your friends,” blue eyes pierced through brown, “Don’t f*cking lie to me, Kurosaki. You’re disgusted by what I did. You hate me.”

Alarmed, Ichigo’s face paled and his legs broke apart to steady himself with both feet on the ground. “I-I’m not lying, Grimmjow. I know you can’t help it. You have...needs just like everyone does.”

Needs. Kurosaki could barely spit it out. The thread on his finger tightened, too, and suffocated the digit further. Grimmjow clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, conflicted. Should he break his own neck, or Kurosaki’s?

“You’re a sh*tty liar, brat,” Grimmjow muttered. He took a step forward. Ichigo stiffened and leaned back. It was subtle, but his eyes saw everything. How had he been so blind?

“I-I’m not ly—!”

A strong hand snatched Ichigo’s jaw and yanked the boy forward. Callused hands caught Grimmjow’s waist and pushed back, forcing a small gap between the two as their noses touched. Cyan eyes searched honey brown. Nothing but horror and fear burned in those stars. Grimmjow bit his tongue to hold back an emotional snarl, knowing that the sound would be taken as a whimper. He wanted to hear the truth. No lies, no bullsh*t. He needed to know how Kurosaki really thought of him. Kurosaki needed to understand it, too.

“Fine, if what I did doesn’t bother you,” Grimmjow’s fingers clawed at the ginger’s jaw, smearing blood across his skin, “Then you wouldn’t be against this, would you?”

He had never seen terror on Kurosaki’s face before. Not even when they had fought five years ago. Why did that face matter? Why was it so important to him? Why did he want the truth? Grimmjow’s breath ghosted over Ichigo’s trembling lips and his eyes slid closed as he ignored the nauseous grimace on the boy’s face. Their lips met. Pain blistered across his face and his neck cracked from the force behind a vicious punch. Grimmjow stumbled back with a grumbled curse and caught himself on the door. Or, more accurately, the doorknob caught his lower back and stabbed him with a dull blade. Grimmjow’s large fingers cradled the injured jaw and popped it, the loud crack buzzing in his ears. He massaged the pain away as he regained his footing and moved away from the door to lean back against the wall. A snort tumbled from his nose.

“At least now you’re being honest,” Grimmjow said.

Ichigo trembled where he sat, his face smeared in blood and looking vandalized. His hard fist shook before him, veins popping through skin as he panted with each breath. Brown eyes were large and wild, the fear-filled eyes of an innocent little deer staring down the barrel of a gun. Terrified and untrusting. This is what he truly felt toward the Arrancar. Grimmjow lowered his hand and clenched his jaw. He pushed all thoughts aside and slipped his hands into his pockets; they balled into strained fists.

“Admit it, Kurosaki. You hate me. That optimistic brain of yours concocted a false image of me and you’ve been chasing it. Time to face reality. I’m a Hollow.” Grimmjow snatched the zipper of his jumper and yanked it down, exposing his scarred body with a snarl. Ichigo’s eyes immediately turned away. “I have a goddamn hole in my stomach, Kurosaki. That hole has been there for hundreds if not thousands of years and you will never remove it. This mask,” Grimmjow released his clothing and tapped harshly on the bone on his cheek, “It’s not going anywhere either. Both of these are more than a part of me, Kurosaki. It’s who I am. If they disappear then so do I. No matter what you do: change my diet, treat me like a friend, pretend that you accept and like who I am; I will always be a monster. I will always have a hunger to devour my brethren and it’s a pain that never fades away no matter how often you feed it, but it’s what I have to do to survive. I won’t ever apologize for that.”

Ichigo’s brown eyes glared at the balcony doors. His shoulders were tense, his back hunched, and his face screwed into a tight, tortured scowl as he refused to look at the Arrancar. Tanned fingers twitched and tore at the bedsheets. Tears surfaced on the edges of Ichigo’s eyes, building bigger and bigger until they cluttered thick lashes and spilled down bloody cheeks. Grimmjow gnashed his teeth and struggled to swallow. His throat was tight from an invisible hand that choked him with each word Ichigo didn’t counter or object. It was difficult to speak but he did so anyway. He had to drive that knife as deeply into the heart as he possibly could and sever the tie between them.

“I don’t know what f*cked up hallucination you had of me but you can’t hide from the truth anymore. I’m a cannibalistic monster that won’t hesitate to kill and devour...and you hate me for it. Admit it,” Grimmjow insisted, his voice giving out toward the end.

Tired eyes screwed shut and Ichigo cringed. His body trembled with a wave of anguish and his stream of tears turned into a raging river. Droplets plunged off the boy’s jaw and vanished into the threads of black jeans. Kurosaki wasn’t objecting. He had no intention to. He couldn’t. A choked chuckle, a pathetic whimper of a snicker, eased from Grimmjow’s throat before he bit his tongue. Blood sprayed the roof of his mouth as his teeth sliced deep into the soft pink muscle and he fought back the burning behind his eyes. He was a goddamn idiot for not seeing this sooner.

As the two sat in stagnant silence a muffled argument erupted in the next room and eventually bled into their world when the bedroom door was thrown open.

“Man, I’m f*cking full,” Ogihci groaned. He leaned against the doorframe and smiled, content with himself as the blood from his clothes seeped into the floor and picked at his teeth with his blue tongue.

Ichigo’s body tightened further. It was as if he were cowering away from them; shaking in indescribable fear. Grimmjow no longer felt compelled to crush the mask on his face. It had shattered already.

A slick arm hooked around Grimmjow’s neck and jerked him toward the door to press against Ogihci’s blood-drenched form. A wet cheek pressed against his and the slimy arm around his throat slowly choked him. “Kitten and I are disgusting as f*ck. Well, by Goro’s standards. He’s surprisingly protective of the carpet. Anyway,” Ogihci smiled at his king who still avoided the cold eyes of the panther, “We’re gonna go take a bath.”

When Ogihci dragged him backward Grimmjow’s arm lashed out and caught the edge of the doorframe to stop their progress, his eyes steady on Ichigo’s face. “I created a false image of you too, you know.” Bleary brown eyes opened and turned to Grimmjow, Ichigo looking back with as much pain as the Arrancar refused to feel. Grimmjow swallowed his own blood and continued. “I shouldn’t have believed a ‘perfect god’ would give a sh*t about a demon.”

Grimmjow released the doorframe and allowed Ogihci to pull him along when the earth crumbled under Ichigo’s feet and brown eyes followed the Arrancar in despair.

Chapter 47: Rewritten

Chapter Text

Goro wasn’t afraid of much. He wasn’t a fan of fighting a group of Hollows alone; being the type of person who doubts their abilities constantly, he wouldn’t be very well suited for a tense situation like that. He didn’t like fighting side by side with his brother. Every time he and the previous Goro went into battle he was always terrified at the possibility of losing him—until one day the nightmare became reality. After that mission he had chosen to stay on the sidelines and be the person who pulled humans away from harm while others slaughtered Hollows, never to face his fears again because they no longer existed. He didn’t fear death. It was an inevitability all creatures faced and he was too old, too expendable to worry about such trivial things. Life without his brother was proven to be a disaster, another sign that he shouldn’t cling to life. When he and the other Kaizō Konpakus were decommissioned he didn’t fear it. They weren’t useful anymore, they died too easily, they weren’t strong enough to battle Hollows; Goro agreed. They were going to die anyway. It’s what they were made for. For so long he had lived without that gut wrenching pain and had forgotten it. He was completely floored when he met Ichigo.

When he first opened his eyes in that dreaded Gigai, the first thing he saw was that boy, radiant and angelic in every way possible and impossible. It was love at first sight. He couldn’t help himself. Those warm brown eyes oozing concern and that pretty smile on those perfect lips, the heat of his touch and the silkiness of his voice—everything about him was addictive. He knew from that exact moment he wanted the ginger for himself. Unfortunately, in Fate’s craziest decision, the Gigai he occupied belonged to an Arrancar. He was loud and brutish, more animal than man, and completely unfit to be with anyone. Much less with someone like Ichigo. The Arrancar was far from a threat—in the beginning. As time passed, Goro began to see Grimmjow’s charisma and his fear sparked. He figured Ichigo’s dumb little crush would eventually ebb away into nothing, but instead it grew stronger. He clung to the belief that Ichigo would change his mind, see reason and give up on the Arrancar, and he confessed to encourage the process. Instead, pity, a heavy stone, was thrown at his feet and crushed the heart that laid there. All he had was hope. Hope that Ichigo would choose someone better. Hope that Grimmjow would become bored and leave. All hope was ground to dust when he took control of the Gigai the day after their biggest mistake. It hurt. Memories of Ichigo writhing under him, beautiful while moaning and touching his pale skin, played through his mind in an endless loop. Every filthy moment flashed before his eyes and it always ended the same way; with the love of his life screaming the name of a blasted Arrancar. It was devastating. He hated it. He wanted to bash the Gigai’s brains against the wall and rip those memories from it. He wanted to hurt Grimmjow. Kill him. That was his first instinct. He held himself back. He tried to be good, to act like the type of man Ichigo wanted and deserved, and warned Grimmjow of his inevitable fate. He knew it was sick and he wasn’t proud of himself, but his heart soared when Ichigo came home terrified and angry. Thirty minutes later he had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling at the sight of Grimmjow broken and regretful and drenched in Hollow blood. That illusion Ichigo had of the Arrancar shattered and now he saw him for what he was. A monster. A beast. A vile demon. Once again, Goro had nothing to fear. Grimmjow f*cked up and there was no going back. He had a chance. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Kurosaki could actually be his.

“You’re grinning a lot for such a f*cked up situation.”

A frown creased his brow as Goro tore his eyes away from the bedroom door to the man on the couch. He shivered. This guy. He took it back. This was the only remaining fear he had left. That smile. There was something sinister about it. It dug deep under his skin and burrowed down into his bones. That smile ripped the earth out from beneath his feet and skewed everything he knew until he knew nothing at all and nothing to begin with. He had never met a Kaizō Konpaku who affected him this way before.

“You’re smiling, too,” Goro countered.

The man snorted but the smirk never waned. “First off, I’m smirking, not smiling. Second, I don’t know these people and I barely understand the situation; so my responses don’t count for sh*t. Lastly, I’m smirking at you because you’re smiling at this f*cked up situation. It’s pretty sad*stic.”

Goro scowled. Who was this man? What had he said his name was? Shōkōhin? He didn’t know of any Kaizō Konpaku with that name. While he did have a massive amount of brothers and sisters they were all well aware of each other: if they were powerful enough to be noted. Goro himself wasn’t severely high on the list due to his enhanced strength being a common ability, but was mentioned in passing as “Goro’s brother”. Never had he heard of Shōkōhin. Either this man was one of the last to be birthed by Soul Society, or he was weak. Blue eyes searched the relaxed form. Every muscle at ease. Irises taunting and teasing with no remorse. No anxieties. No nervous ticks. He doubted the man was moronic enough to be co*cky for no logical reason. He had to be insanely powerful...but there wasn’t a drop of spiritual pressure in his body. How could an enigma like him exist?

“What do you think they’re doing in there?” Shōkōhin lifted his hand and rapped a knuckle on the wall behind him to indicate the subject of his question.

“I don’t want to know,” Goro huffed.

“Hm. The shower is running but you can’t hear either of them talking, which can mean one of two things.” Goro lifted a curious brow and Shōkōhin smiled again. “Either their mouths are too busy to make sounds or they’re trying their damnedest to keep quiet.”

He had to stop himself from gagging. “That’s disgusting. Why would you even think of something like that?”

Shōkōhin shrugged and crossed one leg over the other. “Boredom. Gathering intelligence on my new surroundings. A nosey mother f*cker. General wonderment on what else two dudes would be doing in a bathroom together. Take your pick.”

He intended to retort with a clever quip that would, hopefully, shut up the newcomer, instead he was beaten by a loud thud behind the bathroom door and a hitched breath moaning “f*ck” in a strained voice. Nausea washed through Goro and his stomach churned at the images the sounds conjured. He wouldn’t put it past Grimmjow to ditch Ichigo and f*ck the Hollow. Their kind liked to flock together and he had tried to fool around with the pale bastard in the shower once before. For Ichigo’s sake he was livid, but for himself he was rejoicing. Devouring Hollows and sleeping with a Hollow all in the same day? Grimmjow continued to dig that hole deeper and deeper and Goro had no intention to stop him. It was a well deserved downfall.

“You’re doing it again.”

Goro struck the smug man with a hard glare. “Will you stop staring at—!”

Hinges squeaked and Goro lost his words. He turned to watch the aged white door slowly crawl open and placed his back to Shōkōhin, erasing the man from his reality. The door inched across the thick carpet, a sluggish pace that matched the state of the man who opened it. His heart plummeted. “Ichigo?”

The elegant form swayed side to side, unusually uncoordinated as he eased his way out of the room and turned to stone, watching the bathroom door. It was eerie to see such a lively person play a reanimated corpse. He meant to call the boy’s name again, and he wasn’t certain he had, but summoned or not the ginger turned his head. Dead brown eyes bore into his and Goro’s heart skipped again. He had never seen Ichigo’s eyes like this. Crazed and empty; cold, lifeless caves with fizzling fires and fading gold embers. A cold hand rubbed the bumps spreading across his arm as Goro’s flesh crawled. It was a haunting appearance.

A faint spark of light lit Ichigo’s eyes when his mind connected to the present. They widened and the man looked crazed as he rushed to Goro and snatched his hand. Electricity jolted through Goro’s arm from his touch, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the pleasured pain silent. Ichigo cradled the Gigai’s hand between his and tugged the man closer. Ichigo was touching him. He could touch Ichigo. A finger twitched and stretched to test the theory and grazed part of the human’s exposed chest. It took so much willpower not to groan in yearning.

Orange brows twitched and rising stars sank back into the deep brown ocean of his eyes. “Goro,” he said. Nails bit into Goro’s sensitive palms. He said the name as if it were a statement. A fact. A sudden understanding of which blue eyed man stood before him. It stung. Goro could admit that, but he didn’t care. Ichigo saw Grimmjow for who he was. Things could change. Everything could be rewritten.

“Ichigo? Are you okay?” Goro asked.

“Are they still in there?” Ichigo whispered.

“Forget about them. They aren’t important.” Goro’s jaw locked as he looked at Ichigo. Really looked at him. Blood was streaked across the boy’s cheek and jaw in a single, long stroke. The evil red stained his lips and vandalized his pure skin, and bore the heavy prints of a large, manipulative hand. He pulled his hands from Ichigo’s grasp and cupped the boy’s face gently, urging him closer with a small tug; ignorant of Shōkōhin’s quirked brow as he studied them. A careful thumb slid across a wet cheek. The blood had a strange break within it’s sinful mark. Ichigo had been crying. Teeth gnashed as Goro spoke through them. “Did he do this? Did Grimmjow touch you?"

Fire crackled in the ginger’s eyes at the mention of the Arrancar’s name. “No. No he didn’t. I mean, he did but not in the way you think. He only tried to kiss me and I—,” tanned fingers searched blindly for Goro’s shirt and held the material for comfort, shaking in his arms, “I don’t...I don’t know what to do.” Tears welled in sorrowed eyes. “I hurt him, Goro. I hurt Grimmjow.”

He resisted gagging at the Arrancar’s name on the angel’s tongue and instead growled as he held Ichigo face with greater aggression. “I doubt a monster like that has enough emotional capacity to feel pain.”

Brown depths flooded with alarm and Ichigo tried to shake his head but found himself held steadily in place. “He’s not like that. He hides it well but his eyes always give him away. I hurt him. I really hurt him.”

“He’s a grown man, if a man at all. He’ll get over it. I’m more concerned about you.” Goro took the end of his shirt and wiped Ichigo’s face. He removed as much blood as he could, but unfortunately it smeared and certain parts had already dried. Goro dropped his ruined shirt and licked the pad of his thumb and scrubbed red marks from a sharp jaw. When he finished, Goro’s tongue dragged over his thumb again as his eyes became entranced with plump lips. That beautiful shade of pink had been soiled by a rusted red—the result of the dreadful kiss of an Arrancar—and it was disgraceful. He had the power to erase this. All of it. The blood from Ichigo’s sweet lips. The demon that plagued his mind. That wicked lust and twisted relationship between them. All of it rewritten. He pressed his thumb to the dirty lip and brushed the blood away; his body electrified from the soft touch of freckled lips. Too easily Goro visualized the ginger wrapping those same lips around his thumb with the intention to praise powerful hands. He also clearly saw a vision of his thumb in Ichigo’s cheek, stroking that drooling tongue and inducing moans while thrusting into that tight body. Goro couldn’t help but shiver. He wanted that. Badly.

“I have to fix this,” Ichigo said with a flash of determination, then crumbled with a whimper, “but I don’t know how.”

They were still talking about Grimmjow? Seriously?

“Fix what? Ichigo you shouldn’t have to fix anything. He’s the one who upset you. He slaughtered and devoured enough Hollows to drench himself in blood. You have every right to be angry and disgusted by what he did,” Goro said. Why were they still talking about this? Right now he could be changing their story but instead, the ginger wanted to linger on a lost cause.

“Goro,” Ichigo placed emphasis on the name as his hands fisted the bloodied shirt, needing to be heard, “He thinks I hate him.”

It seemed the ginger was going to need some convincing. A smooth and easy smile graced Goro’s face as he brought Ichigo flush against his body, their lips deathly close to meeting. “Ichigo,” he began, combing his fingers through long orange hair, “He’s a Hollow. You’re a Soul Reaper, a Quincy, and a human. It’s in your blood to hate him. He exists to be the mortal enemy of all living creatures, to not hate him would be insanity.”

Ichigo was so close; he could taste it. That sweet breath ghosted over his tongue and drew him in. Those lips he longed to feel against his own were right there and available. No Arrancar to get in his way. Teeth scraped a pale lip to bite back a groan. No lies. Goro tightened his grip on Ichigo’s hair. No holding back.

“But I—.”

“You think too much, sweetheart,” Goro murmured, “You need to forget him.”

Possessive hands latched onto a shapely hip and yanked on orange hair, tilting Ichigo’s head as he did the same to his own. He felt the human’s heart beating against his. He felt the boy’s breath hitch as their lips neared. He felt a single freckled lip every so slightly graze his—and then the bathroom door opened. The pop of the lock and snap of the handle paused Goro’s advances and drew their attention to the nearly naked man frozen in his tracks. A revolted sneer rolled over Goro’s face. Figures.

Grimmjow wore only a towel around his hips and left the rest of his dampened body exposed to the subzero atmosphere in the living room. Unruly bangs refused to stay slicked back and fell, tangled and twisted, between heavily guarded eyes. Kurosaki was right. The Arrancar had a phenomenal poker face, but his blue eyes gave away all of his secrets. The turmoil that twisted in those neon depths almost made Goro smile. The Hollow was finally getting what he deserved and he felt like sh*t because of it. Perfect.

“I’m impressed.”

All eyes turned to Shōkōhin. The man grinned and lazily saluted with two fingers to his temple. “Heya. Grimmjow, is it?”

The Arrancar scowled. “What’s it to you?” Grimmjow asked curtly.

Shōkōhin was unfazed. “When you appreciate a work of art,” he paused to scan the man’s muscular form, “You learn the name of the masterpiece.”

Grimmjow scoffed and rolled his eyes. Goro almost retched.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” Goro demanded, his hand falling from Ichigo’s hair.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been stuck in a f*cking pill for a few decades and I’m horny? I have eyes and I like dick? What else do you want from me?” Shōkōhin retorted. That smirk had finally withered away.

Goro’s hands left Ichigo completely as he glared and clenched his fists. “Why the Hollow?”

“Because you seem like a too tightly wound control freak with an air of toxic masculinity I find nauseating to the point of having erectile dysfunction,” Shōkōhin shot back, placing hard emphasis on the last two words, syllable by syllable.

Goro’s lips thinned. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

“Grimmjow.”

Center stage as usual. Ichigo wrung his hands and swallowed thickly as his eyes nervously searched the Arrancar. Long red lines ran down the front of Grimmjow’s torso. The scratches couldn’t be described as angry. Instead they reeked of animalistic desire and ownership. Those scratches matched with the reopened and bleeding split lip left no uncertainties on who placed them on Grimmjow’s body. Another nail in the coffin.

Ichigo took a step forward. “Grimmjow, I—.”

“Shut up, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo took a step back. Grimmjow moved his eyes away, his gaze set on his goal, and approached the bedroom door.

“Grimmjow,” Ichigo whispered in desperation.

“Shut up, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo chewed his lip and held himself back. That restraint didn’t last for long. Right as Grimmjow stepped beside him, Ichigo’s hand stretched out and his rough fingers caught a moist wrist. His eyes pleaded as pathetically as his voice. “Grimmjow, please, let me—.”

“I SAID SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH, KUROSAKI!”

None of them were prepared for Grimmjow’s enraged roar, not even the Arrancar himself who growled as his ears rang. Grimmjow ripped his arm from Ichigo’s grasp and snarled. The sound was deep and guttural and scratched his throat raw. It wasn’t the sound a man could make. It was the noise of an animal.

“How many f*cking times do I have to say it? Shut up! For once I want you to f*cking close your mouth and keep all of your lies, your flattery, your baggage, and bullsh*t to yourself!” Grimmjow was seething now. His teeth exposed themselves in a snarl, stained with blood from his lip. Fingers curled, filled with hunger to maul all breathing forms within the world’s circumference. Eyes wild and threatening slaughter. “I’m so sick of this, Kurosaki. I’m so sick of you. You act so f*cking perfect and everyone treats you like a goddamn god when you’re nothing but a whiny, pathetic weakling. I could respect you being powerless. I honestly could, but this f*cking fake persona you take on is grating on my last damn nerve.” His finger jabbed Ichigo in the chest and the boy flinched, then cringed as each point was punctuated with another stab to his sternum. “Stop pretending to like me. Stop pretending to be kind. Stop pretending to be a defender of my race. Stop pretending to be some f*cking blessed god living amongst the filth.” Ichigo started to tremble and for some godforsaken reason it hurt—pained—Grimmjow to see it, but he pressed on. “Don’t speak to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t come to me with your problems. Don’t try to apologize. Don’t expect me to distract you. Don’t involve me in sh*t that isn’t training. And don’t you f*cking dare call me by my first name or anything other than Jaegerjaquez. Got it?”

It wasn’t a true question. It was a statement. A warning.

Now Ichigo was visibly shaking. He made himself smaller by crossing his arms and hunched his shoulders and back, nails clawing and tearing through his own skin.

“Answer me, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow demanded, his sharp voice making the human jump.

Slowly, Ichigo lifted his head and met Grimmjow’s gaze. The tendons in his throat twitched rapidly as the boy struggled to breathe. Teeth dug into his bottom lip to hold in gasps and whimpers. He sniffed hard as snot wrecked his sinuses, the disgusting mess induced by the massive flood of tears spilling from Ichigo’s red eyes. The lakes bled into rivers that plunged off the edge of his jaw and rained onto his shirt, his skin, and the floor. Biting hard to keep silent, Ichigo nodded.

Satisfied, Grimmjow pulled back, squared his shoulders, and disappeared into the bedroom. The moment the door closed Ichigo broke. Whimpers came first. They slipped from his wet lips in short bursts and grew louder as his breath continuously caught, and then he couldn’t hold back any longer and began to wail. Goro’s body jerked at the alarming sound but he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. He felt like reality was crumbling around him. Never in a million years would he have expected Grimmjow to speak to Ichigo that way. Not after what he did. How had this situation flipped? Ichigo was the one who should be yelling. Grimmjow was at fault. Whimpered and broken apologies rolled from Ichigo’s tangled tongue on an endless repeat as the heels of his hands rubbed and pushed on his eyes, trying to stop his crying. Goro found his voice when Ichigo pulled on his hair and clawed at the scar on his forehead.

“Ich-Ichigo, you need to calm down,” Goro said. He carefully pried tanned fingers from fragile orange locks and held Ichigo to his chest. “It’s okay, Ichigo. You’re okay.”

Ichigo cried into his shoulder relentlessly. Hot breath and salted tears mixed on the fabric of his shirt and Goro tried, in vain, to soothe him by rubbing his back. For every apology Goro countered with reassurement but it failed to help. Everything was falling apart. A loud clattering shatter echoed from the bedroom and Goro scowled. Grimmjow was a child. He brought this on himself. He ate the Hollows. He yelled at Ichigo. It was all his doing. That Arrancar had no right to be upset, much less break sh*t that wasn’t his.

“You’re okay, Ichigo. It’s okay, sweetheart,” Goro murmured and pressed a kiss to the human’s temple.

“So, that’s what you’re going to do? Steal the human from the Arrancar while they’re both emotionally compromised? How spineless of you.”

Shōkōhin. He’s had enough of that guy.

“What is your problem with me? I haven’t done a damn thing to you. And why are you acting like I planned this? Grimmjow chose to consume Hollows. Grimmjow chose to yell at Ichigo. I had nothing to do with it,” Goro hissed.

Shōkōhin was highly unamused. “If you think you had nothing to do with Grimmjow’s outburst then you’re a f*cking moron. Preying on vulnerabilities, enjoying a relationship collapsing, taking advantage of the situation to get what you want; it’s disgusting.” He crossed one leg over the other as his grim scowl deepened. “Knowing that there are still barbaric bastards like you makes me ashamed to be a Kaizō Konpaku.”

“Watch it, asshole. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ichigo doesn’t belong to that monster,” Goro spat.

The man scoffed. “Out of everyone in this apartment he belongs to you least of all, and to that Arrancar the most.”

Goro had no time to respond when the door opened again and Grimmjow stepped out in a black shirt, red sweats, and a vaporizing glare.

“Move,” Grimmjow ordered.

Goro matched the gloomy expression with a glare of his own and a tall finger. “Eat sh*t.”

Growling, Grimmjow snatched Goro’s wrist and the Kaizō Konpaku prepared a fist—only to be stopped by trembling hands.

“St-stop. I-I’m o-okay, Gor-oro,” Ichigo said, his voice strained and hushed as he steadied his breathing. Following Grimmjow’s directions, he refrained from touching the Arrancar and instead guided Goro’s fist back to his side.

“Th-thank you. I-I’m okay now,” Ichigo lied. He still wasn’t calm enough to breathe correctly. His whole body shook. Scarred hands frantically scrubbed at his eyes to erase all traces of his shameful tears, as if he hadn’t been loud enough to hear in the next room. It took many swipes of his hands and repetitive sniffs before he was calm enough to show his face. It had only been a few minutes but the boy looked like hell. Red, puffy eyes studied the ground as a nose occasionally sniffed and Ichigo stepped out of the way, wringing his hands.

Grimmjow brushed by and pointedly ignored the ginger’s disheveled state to snap his fingers at Shōkōhin and jerk his thumb over his shoulder. “Get up. I can’t sleep there with you in the way.”

Brown eyes lifted in alarm. “Sleep?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow struck him with a stern glare. Ichigo recoiled, bowed his head and lowered his eyes once more.

“Hold up,” Goro started with a huff, “Jaegerjaquez, there’s no f*cking way I’m gonna let you sleep on that damn couch. That thing will jack up your back and in turn mine—.”

“Your back.” Grimmjow dropped onto the couch gracelessly and held his deadpan expression. “Your body. It ain’t mine anymore. I’m tired of that f*cking meat suit. The only purpose of having that damn thing was for Kurosaki to see me. Now it’s no longer necessary. I don’t have a reason to look disgustingly human anymore.”

Goro’s heart skipped a beat. Was the Arrancar serious? He didn’t have to spend every blasted second in that pill anymore? He could be his own person? He clutched the front of his shirt and felt the heartbeat thumping against his knuckles. His heartbeat. “My own…,” he pushed the thoughts aside with a violent shake of his head, knowing that he had to focus, “If you won’t take the Gigai back where the hell am I supposed to sleep? The balcony?”

“Sleep with Kurosaki for all I care!” Grimmjow barked, “The bed’s big enough and I’m sure it’s an opportunity neither of you would want to miss.”

Ichigo flinched at his words and twisted his fingers, threatening to break them, while Goro’s heart raced. Sleep with Ichigo? Share a bed with him? Lay next to him. Possibly feel the boy in his arms. Grow closer to him. Mover closer to him. Everything he wanted within reach.

Hot fingers laced with his and Ichigo pressed their shoulders together in a soft kiss. “That’s fine with me, if it’s fine with you, Goro."

Heat devoured Goro’s cheeks and his pulse spiked. Was this real? Was he finally getting what he wanted all along? Fingers squeezed back in comfort. “W-well, I’m alright with it,” Goro stammered. Shōkōhin rolled his eyes and he frowned in reply. What was that guy’s problem?

“Congratulations,” Grimmjow uttered sardonically, “Enjoy yourselves.”

Chapter 48: Nausea

Chapter Text

This heart was going to burst right out of his chest, he swears it. From the moment they went to bed, Goro’s heart held a steady, excited beat. Throughout the night and even until now at one o’clock in the morning his heart still drummed, both thrilled and anxious. Ichigo Kurosaki, the man he fell in love with months ago, was finally in his arms. His body was tilted at an odd angle to accommodate for the ginger’s body and utmost comfort; laying slightly on his side and propped against a pillow with his arms around the man he loved. Ichigo rested with his head on Goro’s shoulder, tucked just under the other’s chin, with his hands clinging to Goro’s thin shirt. Ichigo, although dead asleep, was a mess. He had chosen to cry himself into exhaustion. The mournful sobs were loud in the beginning and had tapered down as time went on, but the apologies never stopped. At first they were directed at Grimmjow for reasons Goro didn’t understand. Then they were aimed at the Kaizō Konpaku himself, sorrowful for being a hinderance and using him as a pillow to weep on. The later the hour the less he spoke until his apologies were vague and directionless, seeming like a broad apology to everyone he ever knew for everything he ever did. It was a painful thing to watch.

Yet he couldn’t stop smiling.

Teeth chewed on the inside of a soft cheek but Goro’s smile never dimmed. He knew this looked wrong. He wasn’t smiling at Ichigo’s misfortune but rather smiled at the boy being in his arms. Although, he didn’t necessarily wish Ichigo hadn’t been harmed. That had to happen. Ichigo had to see Grimmjow for who he was, which meant feelings were inevitably going to be crushed, and crushed they were. His hand shifted from Ichigo’s shoulder and cradled that beautiful face. There were bags under closed eyes, the dark skin highlighted by tangled and tear dried lashes. Fingers combed through orange hair and brushed the disarrayed locks aside and tucked the strands behind a pierced ear. Broken-hearted but still breathtakingly beautiful. A damaged prince still worthy of a kiss. Goro swallowed as his thumb dragged over a freckled cheek. Ichigo was so close, almost his, and Goro couldn’t hold himself back. A hand took hold of Ichigo’s jaw and tilted his head back until their faces were centimeters apart. Their breath danced between them as Goro studied the youthful face one last time and closed his eyes, lips nearing in anticipation.

The beginning of their kiss was interrupted by an arm snaked around his throat and a body pressed against his back. Frostbitten lips touched the shell of his ear and the arm tightened. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ogihci whispered, “There’s a lotta repercussions for touching what isn’t yours.”

Goro growled through his sneer. He had forgotten the Hollow was even there. The creature had been surprisingly quiet after his supposed shower and had only reacted to the dramatically developed news with a scowl. No words. No insults. No wisecracks. Only silence. Of course, that couldn’t last forever.

“I wouldn’t touch me if I were you. I’m not against snapping your neck like a toothpick,” he bit in reply.

A dark chuckle rumbled in the Hollow’s throat. “As if, pill boy. See, naturally I want to insult you by stating I don’t wanna touch you because you’re a repulsive, hideous freak, but sadly you’re wearing Kitten’s pretty face.”

A strangled snort tried to push through Goro’s nose. His freed hand pulled on the Hollow’s arm but found himself unable to break free. “Figures that you’d like that bastard. Only monsters crave the touch of monsters.”

The arm flexed and Goro’s breath hitched. It wasn’t impossible to breathe, but it wasn’t easy either. Teeth nipped at his ear and Goro stilled as nausea clawed through his fear stricken body.

“S’not nice of you to refer to King as a monster. Saying such things could break his heart,” Ogihci murmured.

“I was talking about you,” Goro spat. The arm clamped down on his throat again and he cringed.

“If you speak of me, then you speak of King, too.”

Nails scratched white skin. It was only because the beast was in a Gigai that he could even feel it. “You’re not Ichigo.”

A tongue traced the shell of his ear and bile climbed through his throat.

“King and I are one in the same, Goro. We aren’t separate beings. Neither of us are light nor dark. Our power is equalled because it is shared. His thoughts are my thoughts as mine are his. We wish, desire, laugh and cry for the same things and the same people for the same reasons. There is no he or I, there is only we, us. As much as you may despise it, I am King as much as King is me.”

“Bullshi—.” Goro’s voice was cut off by a sudden twitch of muscles and he snarled to continue, “Even if that were true, which it isn’t, you’re separated now. You can’t influence Ichigo anymore.”

He despised that laugh. Not only was it wicked and sinful, but the voice echoed in waves as if he spoke through water and the sound resonated in his ears.

“Are you serious? What? You think I was sitting in King’s head, encouraging him to suck Kitten’s dick? Telling him to bend over like a cheap whor*? Believe me I was definitely on board for it, but I didn’t introduce the idea to him. That’s something he’s been wanting for a long time,” Ogihci purred and rocked his hips.

Goro hissed at the the motion. He fought back against the arm restraining him to avoid another touch of grinding hips, but there was no escape. Goro gritted his teeth. “It’s over. Grimmjow f*cked up and now Ichigo sees him for what he is.”

The Hollow hummed. “You’re right. King does see Grimmjow for who he truly is, but here’s the question,” Ogihci smiled against his ear, “Will that bring them closer or push them apart? This static between them, this angry and resentful tension, it isn’t going to last. Eventually that energy will have to be released. Whether that comes in the form of passion or bloodlust is up to them, not you.”

The arm tightened again. This timeit was meant to cause serious harm. Gargled noises tumbled fromGoro's lips as he was suffocated. Nails sank deeper into white flesh.

“You do not have permission to touch Kurosaki, Goro. You are not entitled to intervene in his and Jaegerjaquez’ relationship, whatever it may be. Keep your distance or else,” the Hollow growled, his voice reverberated more intensely than before.

Fingers managed to squeeze between his throat and the arm and pulled. Goro gasped as a small trickle of air made it into his lungs and resisted a relieved groan. “Why...why do you keep defending Jaegerjaquez? You had to have heard everything he said to Ichigo. Why are you protecting him? Some Hollow allegiance bullsh*t?" Goro’s grip slippedas Ogihci applied more pressure, his voice cut off.

“I hold allegiance to no one. Not to Hollows. Not to Soul Reapers. Not to Grimmjow, to you, or any of Ichigo’s friends,” Ogihci said softly, honestly, “None of you mean sh*t to me. Not enough to justify breaking my loyalty to my King.”

Goro’s brow furrowed. Loyalty to Ichigo? His thoughts were dismissed when teeth bit his ear and fingers pulled on his hair, rough and unkind.

“You don’t know Ichigo as well as I do. None of you do. He’s more monster than you think.” A chuckle teased Goro’s ear. “If you think things between them are over then you’re a f*cking moron. If Ichigo truly hated Grimmjow he wouldn’t be crying over him.” The muscled arm released his neckas Ogihci withdrew with a few final words. “Why do you think King is clinging to you, Goro? Is it because of who you are, or is it the body you’re inside of?”

The roomfell silent as the Hollow settled onto his side of the mattress. Goro’s thoughts roared. Was there still a chance for Grimmjow? Would Ichigo really want him? Was Ichigo seeking comfort from him? Or was it...Goro touched Ichigo’s shoulder and the boy hummed in his sleep. The human pressed closer. His hot breath heated Goro’s throat and his fingers tugged on his shirt as if to lead him into a snug embrace. It was natural. Executed as if he had practiced it, like they were meant for each other. Or, Ichigo was meant to be with this body?

Goro’s teeth gnashed.

He hated Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

~***~

Glowing cyan eyes glowered at the black ceiling hanging ominously above him. There wasn’t a shred of light in this room. There was no window for the moonlight to seep in, to chill his burning body, to soothe the anger rampaging inside him. Pure darkness. An eternal abyss. Perfect teeth gnashed as Grimmjow’s throat constricted. The thick chords of muscle flexed as he swallowed the noises attempting to slip from his tongue. Unseen ice encased the room and isolated him, increasing his loneliness into a vast, bottomless pit. He hadn’t felt this lonely in a long time. Before, he hadn’t noticed it, but now that he had a taste of life, of happiness and attention, it changed everything. Darkness had always been a strange comfort for him. Shadows brought him safety. Sunlight only exposed him and tore him apart. He had forgotten how deadly long exposure to a brilliant sun could be. The Arrancar scowled and lifted his arm from the stiff couch. He extended his arm before him, stretching his fingers as if he were tempted to touch the starless sky above him. It was impossible to see anything. Without a shred of light his whole world was dark. He was blind. It filled him with an indescribable fear. Not of what could be found within the darkness; rather, he feared that the darkness wouldn’t leave, that he would be lost and blind forever. Grimmjow pulled his fingers into a fist and dropped his arm. It was pathetic. He had lived in the darkness all his life and now, suddenly, he was afraid of it. Afraid that he would never again see the the world around him...or himself.

Grimmjow’s arm drifted to the floor. White fibers brushed across the Arrancar’s knuckles as he sought his other half. Tight stitching teased his numb fingertips and he squeezed Pantera’s hilt. He was lonely, too, even while under Grimmjow’s touch. They were f*cked. The emotions swarming within his empty chest like livid hornets stabbed him with every waking opportunity and drilled each mistake he made to his soul. The day itself was a mistake. Everything he had done was the wrong answer. Everything he chose, every little breath, all lead to his downfall. His fingers tightened, then released Pantera. She fell, heavier than a carcass, and his hand laid just as still beside her on the carpeted ground. Hollows were never to be trusted. Humans were never to be trusted. Soul Reapers were never to be trusted. No one was ever worthy enough to be trusted. Four simple little rules all Hollows were born knowing. Not exactly the world’s most difficult concept. In fact it was such an easy goddamn concept that he hated himself for being so stupid. Scowling, Grimmjow rolled onto his side and faced the back of the couch. He pressed himself flush against the cheap leather and clawed the seams. Loneliness. The feeling shouldn’t be foreign to him, yet it was. Even before Kurosaki his loneliness was brief. He had his Fracción for most of his afterlife. When they were gone...there was Kurosaki. That teenaged bastard who dared to look at him as if they were equals. The brat who used him as a stepping stone to reach higher goals. The bitch that spared his life, protected his life, and even now, cared for him. Grimmjow recoiled at his own thoughts and choked on a whimper that nearly escaped his lips. Care. A poisonous joke. No one could ever care for a Hollow. Grimmjow never did. Not even himself.

Nails raked across his cheek and chipped away at the invisible blood irritating his skin. He couldn’t tell which he hated more; himself or Kurosaki.

Chapter 49: Vulgarians

Chapter Text

The flesh felt so raw and broken. Hot under his fingertips as the body tried to counteract the damage. Each scrape of chipped nails on his defenseless cheek scratched deeper and deeper until a red hue was etched into the side of his face. The mark was a temporary scar that reminded him relentlessly of why he looked like this. The blood from yesterday was long gone. No part of the incident was left on his body; even his clothes were back to normal—except for his jacket, which was spinning on its third round in the washing machine. The incident was in the past and all that was left behind was a suffocating tension and the red mark on his face. It was compulsive. Every brief glance from brown irises was spotted from the corner of his eye and directly linked to the tendons in his fingers. Kurosaki would grab a pan from a cabinet and set it on the counter. Glance. Scratch. Kurosaki rummaged through the fridge and paused when his hand met with something Grimmjow liked to eat. Glance. Scratch. Goro attempted to lighten the mood with a sad joke and a fumbled landing. Glance. Scratch. Ogihci scoffed and freed a biting comment about something on television. Glance. Scratch. Goro complimented the fragrance of Ichigo’s cooking and leaned in. Glance. Scratch. A large hand rubbed Ichigo’s back and hips touched. Glance. Scratch. It was a repeated, unended cycle and Grimmjow was sick of it.

Ceramic struck wood as Ichigo placed two dishes on the coffee table. Both plates brimming with food in various colors and scents—all of them Grimmjow’s favorites. His nose wrinkled. Did he actually think this would work? He looked at Ichigo. Ichigo looked away. Scratch.

“At least make an attempt to appreciate what Ichigo’s done for you,” Goro ordered as he dropped into a chair across from him.

Grimmjow met his words with a calm gaze. The need to choke the life out of another being had never felt this intense. Taking a life was a pleasure amongst his kind, a custom. To say that the thought of slaughtering someone held more euphoria than the actual action he had experienced multiple times in the past explained a small sliver of the hatred he held toward Goro.

“I didn’t ask for it,” Grimmjow replied.

“Doesn’t matter. He still did you a kindness despite what you are,” Goro said and tore a large bite of toast with his teeth.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Goro was trying to get a rise out of him. Most likely to ruin his image further and advance himself. The best move he could make wouldn’t be to ignore him but to act calmly. So he did. It was no easier than breathing to reach over the armrest and grab his sword, unsheath the blade, and place the sharp edge under Goro’s chin. The air turned stale as everything froze. Only Ogihci and the television seemed unaffected by the atmosphere.

“I don’t have an attachment to that body, Goro, but you do. Remember that,” Grimmjow warned, voice steady and his eyes impenetrable steel. He pressed Pantera to the Gigai’s throat and watched skin break. A small trail of blood trickled free. The fear and anger swirling in those identical eyes nearly made Grimmjow smile. “That body is weak. Even with your powers, it’s still vulnerable. A human body. One with brittle skin and poor stamina. I could kill you with one hand.”

Ichigo’s breath hitched and Grimmjow’s hand twitched in response.

“The more you open that mouth the more you incriminate yourself to be as much of a beast as the ones you devoured yesterday, Jaegerjaquez,” Goro countered, “Fragility of the body doesn’t mark a man weak. What that man does or doesn’t do labels him. You’re the one who’s weak. A coward. It’s easier to be a cruel man than a kind one and you chose the easy way out. Threaten and mock me all you want. I’d rather be a weak human than a strong monster.”

Weak and cowardly? The devilish grin that split Grimmjow’s face in two shot a cold chill down Goro’s spine. The sword pushed forward and cut deeper into Goro’s flesh. He heard Ichigo’s breath catch but he didn’t bother sparing him a glance. This wasn’t about Kurosaki. It was about them, a Kaizō Konpaku and a Hollow, and the animosity between their races.

“Weak is something you can be. In fact, it’s all you are. But human?” Blood poured from the wound when Goro swallowed at Grimmjow’s sneer. “That’s something you could never be. Your body is synthetic. It isn’t a real life form. And you? Your soul? That’s just as fake as that body. Your irritating personality, all the things you love: literature, music, even people; and everything you hate...all that you are was created by a scientist. God didn’t create you, Goro, no deity brought you to life. None of them are insane enough to do something so goddamn stupid. A fake soul in a fake body, that’s all you’ll ever be.”

He was trembling. Grimmjow could feel a pulse throbbing through Pantera from Goro’s throat. Each beat was unsteady and rapid. His heart racing. Lungs deflated and useless. Grimmjow’s hand tightened on Pantera’s grip. He hated seeing himself looking so weak. He wanted to kill it. To kill him.

“I’m more human than you’ll ever be,” Goro managed to squeeze between his lips.

He couldn’t stop smiling today, not even when his lips and cheeks started to hurt. It was worth it to see the horror on that bastard’s face. His laughter only made that terror sweeter.

“Are you f*cking sh*ttng me, Goro? You are more human than me? What the f*ck do you think I am! Where the f*ck do you think I came from? I was human, Goro. A real flesh and blood human chewed up and spat out by the rest of humanity. I had a human life. I had a mother who gave birth to me and a father that raised me. I had friends and enemies. I evolved. I aged. I lived. I am more human than you will ever be,” Grimmjow hissed. He didn’t need to go any further. He could stop, but Grimmjow didn’t want to. Not until Goro was broken. Blue eyes caught brown; the starless desert stared back at him. Not until they both were. “I’m a representative of the humanity you love and crave so much. We’re monsters, Goro. We slaughter. We steal. Lie. Cheat. Abuse. Rape. Betray. Ridicule. Suffer. Die. Some of us make it to the afterlife, a few go to Hell; the rest of us wait, rot, and turn into monsters. Then we start the cycle all over again.” He withdrew Pantera slowly. She felt so smug in his hand. Pantera enjoyed this as much as he did. “Humans are f*cked up creatures before they become Hollows. Don’t think for one damn second that they’re even remotely better than me and my kind. At least Hollows don’t consciously choose to kill,” Grimmjow finished. Pantera returned to her sheath with a soft click.

Goro clutched at his neck. Blood smeared across his skin. “That doesn’t explain you. What’s your excuse for killing others willingly?”

He never wanted to smile again. It hurt too much after consistent use. “I regained my humanity.”

The air was awkward and uncomfortable. Goro refused to meet anyone’s eyes and Ichigo had closed his long ago. Grimmjow couldn’t stop watching them. It was almost impossible to blink. He wanted to see this. He wanted to shatter their twisted delusions and shove reality down their throats. He wanted them to break. Break, crumble, and fall apart just as he had.

“Well,” Ogihci stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then popped various parts of his spine, “That was dramatic. I can’t eat this sh*t—no offense, King, it just isn’t to my tastes. I’m going out for real food.”

Revolted shock crossed over Ichigo’s features as he looked up to argue, then froze when Grimmjow stood. The Arrancar’s usual disinterested mask had fallen back into place—except this time it wasn’t a mask even when he met Ichigo’s gaze. Grimmjow turned to Ogihci and jerked his chin toward the bedroom door. “Let’s go.”

Ogihci now wore the painfully sharp smile but did so with ease and pride. “Alright, kitten, you keep exceeding my expectations.”

Grimmjow said nothing. The Hollow pulled a dispenser from his pocket, popped a pill into his mouth, and swallowed. Ogihci handled separating from his Gigai with more grace than he had. It didn’t seem to faze him at all. The newcomer, Shōkōhin, pushed his hands into his pockets and smiled gently. It didn’t reach his eyes, and for legitimate reasons. The forced smile continued as his irises appraised the wound on Goro’s throat, unable to see the damage but allowed to witness the bloody mess it created.

“You guys gonna be gone for a while?” Shōkōhin asked. Those eyes still hadn’t moved from Goro’s throat.

“A few hours,” Ogihci offered dismissively, “Enjoy the body. I find it incredibly uncomfortable.”

Shōkōhin hummed. His brow pinched and his eyes slid to Pantera. Grimmjow knew he couldn’t see it, but Pantera practically purred at the attention. She was desperate to show off the blood on her claws. He had put off Hollow hunting for too long.

“Let’s go, Ogihci,” Grimmjow repeated forcefully. He didn’t cast another glance at Ichigo nor Goro as he disappeared into the bedroom with Ogihci on his heels. The ones left behind heard unused balcony doors ease open and their spiritual signatures were gone.

Lifeless brown eyes stared where Grimmjow last sat. A callused hand held his tanned wrist in an iron grasp to keep Ichigo from clawing at the scar on his forehead. Goro squeezed his throat when the cut started to sting. He hated Grimmjow for making Ichigo feel this way. For making him feel this way. How could a Hollow make his existence seem worthless? He was certain Grimmjow had never once been human. Once, long ago, he was in body, but in soul and mind, he had always been a monster.

“I’ll be back. We need to bandage that wound before it gets infected,” Shōkōhin said and vanished into the bathroom.

Blue eyes flicked over to Ichigo. Say something. Anything. He had to. Goro parted his lips but no noise resonated in his throat. There wasn’t anything he could say. Nothing that would make either of them feel better. He ground his teeth and tore his eyes away as green fire danced across his clenched knuckles. Damn that Arrancar.

“I can’t believe that asshole would go out and pull the same damn stunt again. That Hollow is shameless. It’s sick,” Goro growled.

Ichigo’s brow furrowed deeper but said nothing in return. He was going to defend and excuse Grimmjow until the very end, wasn’t he? Nails carved into Goro’s palm. His jaw ached.

“I could say the same to you.”

Shōkōhin. His anger and animosity fluctuated and grew, nearly doubling in size, as he glared at the man approaching him with a first aid kit in his grasp. This bastard was as infuriating as that damn Hollow. He even looked like one of them.

“What?” Goro asked with building hostility.

Shōkōhin crossed his arms over his chest with a deep frown. “You’re as shameless as that Arrancar. You bitch and complain about others as if you have no flaws yourself. Jaegerjaquez is a Hollow; it’s in his nature and part of his survival instincts to eat other Hollows.”

“I don’t give a sh*t about what he is. He could at least pretend to be civilized by being sensitive and considerate toward Ichigo and his past,” Goro retorted.

Ichigo flinched at the mention of his name. Gold eyes caught the subtle movement and studied the ginger’s strangling hand. Wordlessly, Shōkōhin grabbed a pillow from the couch and held it out to the human. He waited patiently until Ichigo finally released his arm and crushed the pillow between his hands instead. Shōkōhin gave the boy an encouraging nod before turning back to Goro.

“Let go of your neck and shut up so I can clean that cut,” Shōkōhin ordered and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

“But—.”

“Hush. You’re making it worse.”

Goro frowned at being reprimanded but did as told. Shōkōhin’s fingers brushed along his jaw and chin and gently tilted the man’s head to make the wound accessible. A damp washcloth grazed his skin and Goro shivered, wringing his hands as foreign fingers cleaned and probed at his throat. He peered at Shōkōhin from the corner of his eyes. He hadn’t expected the man to be so delicate. They had been at each other’s throats from the very beginning—he was surprised Shōkōhin was bothering to bandage his neck in the first place. It wasn’t like he asked for help, either. All of this was his decision. Shōkōhin murmured a soft warning before applying disinfectant to his throat and Goro hissed. A thumb stroked the corner of his jaw to ease his pain and relax his body. Goro was shocked that it worked. He frowned as a white pad was pressed to his cut, with gauze soon to follow. What was up with this guy? Why was he acting so differently?

“There. That should hold up. The cut wasn’t deep enough to call for stitches but you are going to get a wicked scab for a week or so,” Shōkōhin said and pulled his hands away.

Goro was only faintly aware of how his body followed him, seeking the Kaizō Konpaku’s hands instinctively. Was this guy not as bad as he thought?

“Shōkōhin.” Goosebumps scattered across his arms from the sensation of the man’s name rolling off his tongue. He rubbed them away quickly. “You don’t understand. Ichigo’s—.”

Shōkōhin interrupted without looking up from the kit as he reorganized it. “I’m aware of Kurosaki’s past. As tragic and disheartening as it is, that incident was not caused by Jaegerjaquez. It wasn’t his fault. The many shouldn’t be punished for the actions of the few.”

Goro scowled. Maybe he spoke too soon. “Why are you defending him? Urahara made it possible for this Gigai to convert nutrients from human food into energy that Grimmjow can use. He had no reason to—.”

“That Gigai is an untested prototype. How long it could sustain that added function was unknown as well as how effectively it would perform.” His eyes finally lifted, the gold twisted with empathy. “That Arrancar was starving, Goro. It’s amazing he didn’t snap before now and devour both you and Kurosaki. His self control and self discipline far surpasses yours.”

Ichigo recoiled at the use of “starving” and clutched the pillow to his chest. Goro didn’t notice.

“I’m going to break your f*cking neck if you insult me one more time,” Goro threatened.

Shōkōhin matched the scowl with his own. “Why? It’s only fair to defend someone who isn’t presently able to defend themselves. Or are you pissed off because I’m right?”

Goro threw his hands up. “He’s a Hollow!”

“Yes, he is! And you keep forgetting what that means!” Shōkōhin snarled, raising his voice for the first time as his calm exterior collapsed, “You act like Jaegerjaquez has a choice in the matter when you know damn well he has to consume spiritual beings to survive! He’s not doing this for amusem*nt and yet you act like he is! His world is eat or be eaten and he’s choosing to eat. Cannibalism is his only choice. Do you really think he enjoys this? He wouldn’t have been ashamed when Kurosaki found him if he didn’t give a sh*t about being seen. He wouldn’t go out of his way to target Hollows, which are rare spiritual beings in this dimension and heavily outnumbered by both Souls and Soul Reapers, when any form of energy would do. He was attempting to take the lesser evil.”

Goro slammed his hands down on the arms of his chair, ignorant of how Ichigo responded with a frightened jump. “Grimmjow is a bloodthirsty monster who wants to murder Ichigo. How can you defend that? What kind of Kaizō Konpaku are you?”

A white hand smashed into his chest and Goro cursed as he was pushed back into his chair with a seething Shōkōhin towering over him. “The kind that’s ashamed to belong to the same race as an envious, heartless, and hateful bastard. I don’t care about what we were created for, Goro. That deep rooted prejudice we hold towards Hollows is artificial, given to us by scientists who wanted our brothers and sisters to waste our lives eradicating tortured Souls. I don’t want some dickhole with a syringe to decide how I use my existence. Hollows have done nothing to us. Our entire race was created by Soul Reapers because they didn’t want to risk their lives fighting what they claim is their enemy. Nearly all of us, all of our siblings, were eradicated because Soul Reapers didn’t want us anymore. Soul Reapers are the ones who have f*cked us over again and again. They destroyed our families and you still want to defend them over that Arrancar? The man who is trying his damnedest to be something he isn’t and dying because of it? Get real. Soul Reapers aren’t flawless gods, Goro. If you can forgive them for erasing our people or erasing the Quincies, then you should be able to forgive Hollows for choosing the only option given to them.”

Those eyes were hard and honest, a violent clash of hostility and pain encased in endless amber. Goro swallowed. Shōkōhin hadn’t been trying to get under his skin. From the very beginning, how he felt about Arrancars...he hadn’t lied. This Kaizō Konpaku was defending a Hollow and it left him speechless. Shōkōhin gnashed his teeth and released Goro as he pulled back. He tugged on the hem of his shirt and stood at his full height, then breathed deeply to calm and control himself.

“My apologies, Kurosaki, but I need to cool off before I break something not easily replaced,” Shōkōhin hit Goro with a hard glare, “Please, excuse me.” Shōkōhin snatched a book from the coffee table and stormed out the front door.

“H-hey! Where do you think you’re going!” Goro called out as he stood. Guilt burned in his heart and Goro chewed on his lip, fingers tracing the bandage on his throat. Damnit. He chased after him, “Shōkōhin!”

The door closed with a thunderous clack and Ichigo was left alone. Lifeless eyes sluggishly crawled across the room. They roamed over the drops of blood staining the white carpet. They ignored the food he had made, now cold, and ended his travels at the couch. Specifically, the section Grimmjow had sat at. The pillow fell from his hands as he stood and he shuffled over to the couch and dropped down in exhaustion. The moment he settled in his senses were overwhelmed with Grimmjow’s scent. Goosebumps crawled over his skin but the man didn’t brush them away. He inhaled deeply at an agonizingly slow pace and his eyes slid closed. Mint. It was Grimmjow’s scent. His eyes opened. Rough fingers dragged over the cushion and soaked up all traces of his spiritual pressure. He could feel Grimmjow’s pain. As much as he denied it, he was hurting. He could feel the man’s exhaustion, too. Neither of them had slept well. Not like they used to. There was something else Ichigo didn’t recognize. His fingers curled, sinking deeper into the cushion as he tried to decode the odd sensation. When he realized what it was his eyes sparked with sorrow. It was strength. True, healthy strength and power. It had been so long since he felt the man’s original spiritual signature that he hadn’t noticed when it weakened, when it hollowed from the inside out. This is how his spiritual pressure was supposed to feel.

Tears burned in his eyes and teeth tore at Ichigo’s chapped lips. “You were starving.”

~***~

A snarl tore from Grimmjow’s throat as his back collided with a rough brick wall, biting his tongue to keep himself from getting into deeper trouble. Ogihci was pissed. Apparently, he had heard everything he screamed at Ichigo yesterday and wasn’t a fan of what he said.

“You’re a goddamn asshole, Jaegerjaquez,” Ogihci snapped.

Using his last name? He was angrier than he originally thought. “Who gives a sh*t?” Grimmjow growled back.

“I do.”

He was thrown against the wall again and cursed when his head struck sharp brick, but he didn’t dare defend himself. For some reason, he knew that would only piss the Hollow off more.

“Y’know, I had full intentions on beating the sh*t out of you here and now for the sh*t you said to Ichigo yesterday. I also formulated many, many plans on how I would kill you.” Grimmjow gritted his teeth and said nothing as gold eyes searched his face. A short beat passed and Ogihci released him with a rough shove. “Lucky for you, I won’t. As harsh and untrue as it was, he needed to know he hurt you. It’s the only way he’ll ever consider the impact of his views and change them.”

Ogihci turned away and stomped to the edge of the building, glaring off in the distance. Without looking the Arrancar knew it was in the direction of the apartment. Of home. Grimmjow’s mask ached at the thought. He couldn’t call that place such a thing anymore. It wasn’t his home. It never was. He got too comfortable and now he paid the price for it.

“I told you to give him another chance,” Ogihci spoke up, his voice tight and angry.

Grimmjow peeled himself from the wall and said nothing. The Hollow was referring to their altercation yesterday. Ogihci had a strange habit of luring the Arrancar into the shower and beating him up. The angry red marks running down his torso burned at the memory. They hadn’t even made it to the bath. The door closed and suddenly he was pinned against the hard surface by a snarling beast. Angry at him for making his “king” cry. Livid at Grimmjow for kissing him without consent. Demanding—ordering—the Arrancar to fix himself and act civil. To give Ichigo a second chance. Safe to say that hadn’t worked. It did, briefly, but then he saw Ichigo in Goro’s arms. Hands that weren’t his own on Kurosaki. Pulling him closer. Sharing the same breath. Ichigo clinging to Goro. Their lips about to kiss. He couldn’t hold back his rage after seeing such a thing. He lashed out. He made Kurosaki cry. He made himself fall apart. He made a mess. Grimmjow massaged his palm, remembering his anger overtaking him in the bedroom and encouraging the Arrancar to throw something, anything, and watch it shatter. Shakespeare was the closest option but it wouldn’t shatter. It would, however, destroy the neglected mirror in the corner of the room.

“Ogihci,” Grimmjow began, “He hates what we are. How can you still feel for him? Defend him?”

The soft pad of a pale thumb pushed deeper into the palm of his hand, smothering the love line with a squeeze of a tired jaw. He didn’t expect to get an answer. Ogihci didn’t seem like the type to open up and let the world see the inner workings of his heart. That was something he had in common with Kurosaki. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer, either. Seeking answers meant he suffered the same issues the Hollow carried. Seeking answers meant seeking guidance. Grimmjow refused to feel for the human. He refused to defend him. He refused to be like the others.

Grimmjow smiled weakly and snorted wryly to himself. “Who’da thought that the manifestation of Kurosaki’s negative aspects would be nicer than Kurosaki.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic.”

Grimmjow lifted his chin. Ogihci turned so his side faced him, gold eyes burning and his scowl annoyed.

“I’m not the manifestation of King’s bad side or evil half or whatever the hell you think I am. He wouldn’t have been able to hurt you if that were true. We aren’t light and dark, Yin and Yang, or two separate beings. Not even now. And I’m definitely not nice,” Ogihci said.

Grimmjow frowned. “Then what are you?”

The Hollow sighed and crossed his arms, closed off, but turned to face him fully. “I’m everything Ichigo swallows deep down in his gullet on a daily basis. The sh*t he hides from the world to save face and hold others before himself. What he’s ashamed to be and feel. Rage. Bloodlust. The desire the conquer. The urge to kill. Need for recognition. Hatred of the ones he loves. And love of...what he thinks he isn’t supposed to love. All of it,” he explained.

“How is that any different?” Grimmjow asked.

“I’m what he considers to be bad and what he chooses to hide. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m evil. I’m more neutral than anything,” Ogihci shifted from one foot to the other, “Anger and hatred aren’t sinful, they’re emotions. He hides it, so they are mine. He believes he shouldn’t be commended for the things he does even though he hungers for it. I, on the other hand, believe he should be worshiped as a god and given everything he desires.”

It made sense. Teeth chewed on a pink tongue. A lot of sense, actually. They seemed like opposites because Ichigo hid over half off who he was behind a mask and Ogihci didn’t. There was one thing, however, that made him curious.

“Who or what does Kurosaki think he’s not supposed to love?” Grimmjow asked. He had never seen Ichigo turn away from someone before. He protected and befriended even his enemies without a second thought. The boy radiated love. Who could he possibly think didn’t deserve it?

“Himself.”

Ogihci’s reply came so quickly and with so little hesitation that Grimmjow felt his ears pop and ring, feeling as if the sky had fallen. Himself. Himself. Kurosaki thought he wasn’t supposed to love himself. Grimmjow cringed and rubbed his temples to ease the sudden ache.

“f*cking hell. Why the hell would he ever think that about himself?” Grimmjow sighed. It was a rhetorical question. He already knew the answer. Depression was by far the worst enemy Kurosaki had ever faced and, although he kept fighting, he was losing.

Ogihci’s eyes softened and he sighed. A hand passed through his hair and his shoulders slumped. “Look, Grimmjow, I know how King appears to other people. Perfect and godlike, a saint among thieves; I understand that. To me, that isn’t far off. He’s ridiculously and overwhelmingly good,” he smiled, the upturn shy and apologetic, “But he has flaws. You know what happened to his mother. It would be difficult for him to forgive Hollows after something like that. His hatred for himself is evidence enough. Even after learning about that bastard Grand Fisher he still takes a large percentage of the blame.”

How the f*ck could he get headaches in this form? Grimmjow hummed, listening, but avoided the Hollow’s eyes.

“Give him some time. It can take a while but, eventually, he’ll come around,” Ogihci’s smile warmed, “He’s known for doing the right thing.”

He said nothing in return. Grimmjow didn’t have anything to say. Giving someone a second chance was hard enough for humans, for Grimmjow it was even worse. People didn’t get second chances. Not with him.

“I don’t feel like eating. I just needed to get out of there,” Grimmjow said. Changing the subject was always a good option.

“I know.”

Grimmjow looked at the Hollow in surprise. Ogihci smirked. “If I’m not hungry then you definitely aren’t. Besides, you looked like you were torn between decking King or Goro and one of those I would prefer you refrain from doing.”

Despite himself, and despite this sh*tty situation, he smiled. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Ogihci did have some of Ichigo’s warmth. It wasn’t much. Just enough to remind him that he was as much of Ichigo as Ichigo was him. Which made him wonder...

“Ogihci,” he waited for the Hollow to look at him before he continued, “did you lure me out of the apartment on purpose and convince me to eat Hollows...because you knew I was starving?”

f*ck. That smile was as gorgeous as Ichigo’s. In fact, it was Ichigo’s. After all the bullsh*t and fighting that damn smile still made him feel like he was the most important being in existence. Ogihci nodded. “You’re a strange Hollow, kitten. I’ve never had to trick a member of our species to eat.”

Grimmjow chewed the inside of his cheek. All those times he bit Kurosaki’s neck, every time he bruised that throat and made him bleed...the hunger he felt that led him to taste and consume a small fraction of Ichigo’s spiritual pressure—his soul—they were warning signs. He had come so close to devouring him. To killing Kurosaki. The thought alone caused him to break out in a cold sweat.

He cleared his throat and tried not to sound the way he felt. “Thank you,” Grimmjow murmured.

Ogihci’s sincere smile was deadly. Teasing. “How do you know that I didn’t do it to protect myself?”

Blue eyes raked over Ogihci’s form and Grimmjow shook his head. “You’re too much like Kurosaki to pull something like that.”

Ogihci’s smile vanishedas a blue blush stained white cheeks and the tips of his ears. Grimmjow couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sight.

~***~

“Shōkōhin! Shōkōhin get back here! Shōkōhin!”

Heavy pants huffed from Goro’s lungs as he chased after Shōkōhin. He hadn’t expected the man to be so fast. It wasn’t like it was his power, either, he was just that pissed off. Goro wheezed when he tried to growl under his breath. This bastard had no reason to be acting like this. Well, he did, but it was a f*cking overreaction, that’s for sure.

“Leave me alone, Goto,” Shōkōhin said coldly. He hadn’t even bothered to look at him.

His growl finally pushed through. f*ck this guy. “It’s not Goto! My name is—!”

Shōkōhin stopped, whirled around, and glared at him in exasperation. “I know what your name is! Goro isn’t that f*cking hard of a name! Now leave me alone,” Shōkōhin barked.

“Then why have you been—hey! Get back here!”

His outburst done, Shōkōhin continued on his way and stormed into the park with a gloomy scowl on his face. Humans stared at him for reasons outside of his appearance. No one in a park was supposed to look like that on a nice, sunny day like this one. This guy was annoying.

Goro caught up to him quickly and snatched Shōkōhin’s wrist. Before the man could argue he yanked Shōkōhin along to a semi-private, shaded area and shoved him against a tree.

“Stop running away from me! Why have you been saying my name wrong?” Goro demanded.

Shōkōhin squirmed against his hold. Aggravated, Goro used his otherworldly strength to pin him, their bodies pressed together snugly. It was impossible to escape.

Shōkōhin scowled and reluctantly answered. “You annoy me.”

“Why? You’ve only met me twice. The hell have I done to you?” Goro asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you being a dick to me?”

“You annoy me.”

“Will you stop saying that and give me the real answer?”

“That is the real answer. You annoy me. You’re loud, brutish, angry and selfish. You think Kurosaki is yours when he isn’t. You’re cruel to Jaegerjaquez—.”

“Oh come on! He’s a Hollow!”

Shōkōhin‘s scowl darkened. “Can I go now?”

Goro sighed heavily. “You’re a real piece of work. What? Do you have a thing for the Hollow?”

The man snorted. “Are you serious? He hasn’t even looked at me since I introduced myself. He’s too busy looking at Kurosaki. Besides, why the hell would I tell you to back off Kurosaki if I wanted Jaegerjaquez?”

“I don’t know! I’m just trying to figure you out,” Goro said, “Why are you defending him?”

“Because I’m not an asshole. Let go of me.”

“But he is. Why would you protect him? He’s a stranger.”

“I don’t have to know someone to protect them. Let go of me, Goro.”

“You saw how he hurt Kurosaki. How can you defend that?”

“Kurosaki hurt him. Let go of me, now.”

“But Ichigo—.”

It happened in a second. One moment he held Shōkōhin captive against a tree, and the next he laid on his back, spine stinging, with Shōkōhin straddling his hips.

“Shut up about Kurosaki. You sound like an obsessed parrot,” Shōkōhin spat.

He couldn’t blink. The pain in his back went ignored as he stared at Shōkōhin. He wore that face so differently from the Hollow. Kurosaki never looked at him like this either.

“Why do you hate it when I talk about Ichigo?”Goro asked with a raised brow.

That smooth jaw flexed and slowly, so slowly, the anger drained from Shōkōhin’s eyes. His hands squeezed Goro’s shoulders before a hand broke free to trace the gauze on his throat. Goro shivered.

“You have no idea how excited I was to be in a body again, to be in the company of a Kaizō Konpaku for the first time in many, many years. I was thrilled.” Shōkōhin leaned in close. Their lips almost touched. Their breath shared. The world forgotten. Gold eyes flickered to a soft, suffocating pink, and burned into his. “You can’t imagine my disappointment when I found out it was you.”

Chapter 50: Yasu

Chapter Text

A wet, black nose buried itself in lush green grass and inhaled deeply in rapid bursts. It twitched upon finding a peculiar scent and paused, the owner stilled, and then snorted and moved on. It wasn’t interesting enough to follow. Small, black and brown brindle paws stepped through the grass with undeserved security as he searched for more. Bugs. Squirrels. Other dogs. None of it was remotely interesting. It was the same every time he and his master came to the park. The same smells and the same sights all over again. Even the people were the same. He pressed on in vain with unlikely hope that he would discover something new—and nearly barked in excitement when he did. Ears perked and alert, his nose twitched as he followed the scent. Mint. That was definitely mint, but it wasn’t a plant. It was too alive to be a plant. He sniffed some more. Huh. It was definitely alive, yet dead at the same time? It wasn’t quite human either. It was too musty and old to be a human. Even the humans that were unable to touch him didn’t smell like death. Strange. The closer he drew to the scent the more his body trembled, thrilled with the adventure and mystery, and his tail wagged. Closer. Closer. Almost there. Ha! He could see it now! It looked like a human, but it wasn’t. They looked like they were capable of touching him. He couldn’t see through them. Maybe he can—his collar was pulled and he was held in place. He huffed. Of course. His master was too cautious.

“Jaegerjaquez? What are you doing here?”

Grimmjow jolted, surprised to hear someone say his name, and frowned when he saw who it was. His fingers curled around the edge of the bench. Ishida. “I wasn’t aware that you owned the public park,” he replied gruffly.

“There’s no need to be hostile. I was merely curious. You usually don’t leave the apartment, much less without Ichigo or your Gigai,” Uryū said.

“Choke on my co*ck, Quincy. I can go wherever I want, whenever I want, in whatever body I want, without permission from you, Kurosaki, or anyone else.”

Uryū struck him with an unimpressed and deadpan stare. sh*t. The Quincy really wasn’t being hostile. Well, now he felt like an ass. f*cking damnit.

A slim hand gestured to the empty space beside the Arrancar. “Mind if I sit with you?” Uryū asked.

Oh hell no. Cyan eyes glared and became guarded. “I’m not about to have a heart to heart with you if that’s what you’re expecting.”

The man scoffed, but it held no actual insult. “A heartfelt conversation with a Hollow? Doubtful. Yasu needs to take a break and this is the closest bench available.”

Yasu? Grimmjow looked down. A thin, almost anorexic looking dog sat impatiently beside Ishida. His body practically vibrated with energy and he seemed eager for attention; if he didn’t receive any soon he was ready to move on. This dog was in no hurry to take a break. Grimmjow looked back at the Quincy. Ishida wanted to talk. He snorted. He was becoming soft. Grimmjow shuffled over and crossed one leg over the other, silently giving the Quincy permission to sit. With a small smile Uryū sat down and immediately the dog’s front paws stained his white jeans, but he didn’t complain. Instead he scratched behind Yasu’s ears and allowed the dog to lick his hands, a distraction for both men to concentrate on.

His voice was soft and unchallenging when he spoke. “What are you doing out here, Jaegerjaquez?”

Grimmjow frowned. He was breaking the silence. “What’s it matter to you?”

The Quincy shrugged. “I’m just surprised to see you outside of your body.”

Grimmjow scowled. “This is my body, Quincy. Apparently everyone has forgotten that.”

Uryū lifted a slim brow. “How so?”

Of course, this was a trap.

“I thought I told you we weren’t gonna have a heart to heart conversation,” Grimmjow grumbled.

“If I threw in a few insults would that make you feel more comfortable?” Uryū asked with a smirk. He wasn’t trying to be cruel. His teasing was light, almost friendly. It was strange, but he liked it. Before he could stop himself, the corner of Grimmjow’s lips twitched into a smile but the expression was quickly wiped away by biting the inside of his cheek.

They sat in silence. Two pairs of blue eyes, one light and the other dark, watching Yasu make a fool of himself for attention.

“The name you gave that thing is f*ckin’ ironic. I hope you know that,” Grimmjow said.

Uryū shrugged again. “I didn’t name Yasu. Ichigo did.”

Grimmjow snorted and rolled his eyes. Figures.

“Why aren’t you in your Gigai, Grimmjow?”

His lungs caught, shocked to hear his first name on the Quincy’s tongue. That was the first time he ever called him by that name. For some reason that made it impossible to meet his gaze. “I only wore that damn thing so Kurosaki could see me. Now he can so there’s no point in wearing it anymore. I’m sick and tired of playing human anyways. It was aggravating and caused a lot of f*cking problems,” he answered.

“Problems?”

Silence.

Pale fingers stroked Yasu’s ears one last time before guiding the dog to sit and Uryū turned his attention fully to the Arrancar. “What problems?”

He could only meet those eyes briefly. He didn’t have to say anything. He could tell him to f*ck off and mind his own business...but he didn’t want to. He wanted to do the exact opposite of that. Of all the people to confide in, he chose the Quincy. His life was f*cking strange.

“People forgot what I am.”

A breeze slipped past, tracing their forms as Uryū processed his words and sighed when he understood.

“Am I correct in assuming that this has to do with Ichigo?”

He said nothing. This time he really didn’t have to. Ishida already knew the answer. Why was the answer always Kurosaki? Yasu gave up on his owner with a snort and moved to sit at Grimmjow’s feet. His whip-like tail thumped against the dirt when Grimmjow surveyed him, his eyes shining and his mouth opening to pant, desperate to be touched. Dogs were strange creatures.

“What happened?” Uryū asked.

Yasu couldn’t contain himself anymore. He climbed to his feet and danced from paw to paw and whined, angled his body to show off his cutest features, and whined again. Grimmjow leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees and extended his hand toward the dog. Yasu could have imploded from his excitement alone. A tongue lapped at his fingers and teeth nibbled on his skin to encourage the process along and the whining didn’t stop until Grimmjow scratched behind his ears and stroked his back.

“A few days ago I devoured some Hollows,” Grimmjow said quietly, “Kurosaki saw me.”

Uryū was glad Grimmjow didn’t choose that moment to look up. All he would have seen was the pitying sorrow in his eyes. “He didn’t react well, did he?”

He scratched Yasu’s side and smiled when his hind leg lifted and kicked. Weird creature. “No, that isn’t it. Kurosaki was perfectly fine. He apologized for his negative reaction and then for expecting me to live as a human; the kind of apology any Hollow would want to hear. Except, Kurosaki was lying.” His hand pulled away when the smile vanished from his lips. He wrapped his arms around his body and held himself together.

“How do you know that he was lying?” Uryū asked.

This shouldn’t hurt. This shouldn’t hurt. It did. It really f*cking did.

“He gave me the same fake smile he gives you. He can’t meet my eyes. He couldn’t,” Grimmjow’s nose wrinkled in anger, nails scratched his sides, “He can’t even touch me. Not without pity and shame for pissing me off.”

Yasu whimpered. Uryū cleared his throat. “Well, you know about Ichigo’s mother—.”

“I’m not blaming him for his reaction,” Grimmjow interrupted, “Even if his mother died of natural causes or was still alive he would have legitimate reasons to hate me for what I did.”

“Then why are you mad at him?”

He shook his head.

“I’m not mad at Kurosaki; I’m mad at myself,” Grimmjow replied. Uryū’s eyes widened in surprise. He pressed on. “I was a fool. I thought Kurosaki was different. That for once in my life my diet held no importance to who I am. It was stupid for me to think it wouldn’t matter. Seeing the mask on my face and the hole in my stomach, touching them shamelessly and complementing their aesthetic...doesn’t equate to acceptance and understanding. He forgot the meaning behind them. I let my guard down and…,” Grimmjow unwound his arms and picked at his nails: “I don’t want him to forget again. I don’t want to forget, either. That’s why I won’t go back to that Gigai. I can’t keep pretending to be what I’m not.”

Yasu whined again. Grimmjow was thankful for the noise piercing the silence.

“He doesn’t hate you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Uryū murmured.

A tiny smile curled Grimmjow’s lips. “Actually, that concerns me. He should hate me,” his smile faded, “but instead he hates what I am. Which is so much worse because that isn’t something I can control. It’s not like I enjoy what I am. No one likes being a Hollow except the ones destined to rot in Hell. I...I hate that what he thinks of me, his approval, means that much to me when it shouldn’t.”

What the hell has happened to him? Falling apart over this sh*t? Over a human? Needing approval from his enemy? He was disgraceful. If Aizen or Ulquiorra saw him now they would slaughter him on the spot.

A warm hand, comforting and unopposing, appeared on his shoulder and the dark feelings welling up inside of him were banished. “Give him some time. Knowing Ichigo he’s beating himself up for how he reacted and for putting you through pain. He doesn’t hate Hollows, I’m not sure he could hate anyone,” Uryū smiled sweetly, honestly, “but he definitely doesn’t hate you or what you are. He just...has to remember that you’re not human. Well, not now, anyway.”

Grimmjow glanced down at the hand and back up at the owner. “Can you stop touching me?”

Amanicured hand pulled away awkwardly. “Yeah. Felt instant regret when I did that,” Uryū admitted.

They both cleared their throats and studied the bored Yasu.

“So...you haven’t been back inside your body for a few days?” Uryū asked.

“No.”

“Where’s Goro sleeping, then? And Ogihci? They can’t be sharing the couch. I don’t see how anyone could. Plus, Goro doesn’t seem to be a fan of Hollows.”

He scoffed. Goro not being a fan of Hollows was an understatement.

“Both of them are sleeping with Kurosaki,” Grimmjow slouched on the bench and wince in pain, “I’m on the couch and paying for it dearly.”

That unfamiliar smile drained from the pretty, androgynous face. Uryū blinked. “Did you say...that Goro is sleeping in Ichigo’s bed...with Ichigo?”

Grimmjow raised a brow. That was an odd reaction. “I thought you were vision impaired, not hearing impaired,” he mocked.

Pain blistered across his shoulder from an unexpected slap and Grimmjow yelped. “Ow! What the f*ck, Quincy! What the hell was that for?”

“How could you let that guy sleep with Ichigo!” Uryū yelled. He was furious.

“I’m not Kurosaki’s mother for f*ck’s sake he can make his own decisions. I don’t have any control over who sleeps with that brat. And it’s not like they’re actually f*cking,” Grimmjow paused, “Not yet, anyway.”

Pain struck the same spot, but this one was more powerful. The Quincy had the audacity to punch him. “Touch me one more time Quincy and you’re gonna have to learn how to shoot your arrows without any fingers,” he snarled.

“Then stop being stupid! You can’t let Goro sleep with Ichigo! You put yourself on that couch and only you can reverse it. Don’t insult Ichigo’s integrity like that,” Uryū barked.

“Like what? Goro has my face and he knows how to flirt. I fail to see why he wouldn’t get a piece of Ichigo’s ass,” Grimmjow said.

When pain blistered on his shoulder again he lost all control. A snarl ripped from his throat as he lunged at the Quincy. Uryū leapt out of the way just in time and before Grimmjow could think to chase him, Yasu jumped to his defense. The dog barked in his face and Grimmjow jerked back, eyes widening at the pet’s protectiveness of the Quincy.

“Stop acting like a fool! Ichigo doesn’t sleep around with just anyone. He’s only slept with three people—including you. That’s it. I can’t believe you’re letting that delinquent take your place. He’s nothing but a dirty minded sensualist who will get his hands on Ichigo at any given opportunity,” Uryū growled the last part and started to pace, beginning to rant.

Grimmjow quirked a brow. “And you think I’m better than him?”

Uryū emitted an exasperated sigh. “I’m saying that you were there first and you’re letting Goro walk all over you because you got your feelings hurt.”

“Hey!”

“Suck it up, Jaegerjaquez,” Uryū said firmly, “You had a fight with Kurosaki, big f*cking whoop. Ichigo is stubborn and hotheaded so it’s bound to happen. I’m not saying Ichigo was in the right, but you can’t just walk away. Not before you two talk things through.”

“I’m not gonna talk to Kurosaki like we’re in some damn couples therapy. All we did was f*ck a few times. That sh*t was purely carnal, totally meaningless.” It actually hurt to be so dismissive.

Uryū ignored him and persisted. “Listen to me. If I’m going to lose Ichigo to someone they damn well better be worth it. If you let that annoying faker get under Ichigo’s skin I will hunt you down and strangle you myself. Got it?”

Brave of Ishida to assume that he would be able to strangle him. “What do you mean ‘worth it’?” Grimmjow asked.

“You want to give Ichigo power. You want him to be able to fight and protect himself, to rely on himself. That’s what Ichigo wants too,” his face was grim and serious, “Goro doesn’t.”

He ground his teeth at the mention of that name. Ishida was right. Goro didn’t want Ichigo to get his powers back. He wanted to be the hero. The macho support system Ichigo could cling to. The mere thought of Ichigo being that kind of person made him sick. But why didn’t Uryū want to be the one to help him?

“Since when are you so keen on me being involved in Kurosaki’s life?” Grimmjow asked.

The sincerity on Uryū’s face and in his voice caused Grimmjow’s breath to catch.

“Since the moment I realized he needs you to be.”

~***~

“You have no idea how excited I was to be in a body again, to be in the company of a Kaizō Konpaku for the first time in many, many years. I was thrilled. You can’t imagine my disappointment when I found out it was you.”

Goro flinched. Those words stung more than he would like them to. In fact, he didn’t want them to sting at all. What people thought of him didn’t typically matter; Ichigo being the one exception. Ichigo was the first person he wanted to leave an impression on. Now, apparently, Shōkōhin was added to that short, short list. As for the reason why: he had no damn clue. The Kaizō Konpaku was an irritant. That thickly accented voice pushed goosebumps and shivers across his flesh. Their piercing gaze locked his muscles in place. Their words plagued his mind in a torturous loop that refused to end. That face...it didn’t even belong to Shōkōhin but he couldn’t stop picturing it. They wore the Gigai’s design so differently from that blasted Hollow. Their features were softer, rounder, more feminine, and those eyes...Ogihci’s irises were so cold they burned him like dry ice, but Shōkōhin’s eyes were different. They were warm. The kind of heat that comforted him at first before engulfing his body in a everlasting bonfire. It didn’t burn, and he felt no need to extinguish the overpowering flames, but it was odd and he hated it.

A groaning sigh spilled from Goro’s lips. He shouldn’t be thinking about that bastard so damn much. It was only going to drive him crazy and he already had enough of that with everything that was going on. Ichigo saw Grimmjow for who he was but somehow he still liked the man and he felt responsible for their world falling apart. Grimmjow was trying his damnedest to act like none of this affected him, yet he was always on edge and those stupid blue eyes screamed pain—and to be honest that made even him feel bad for the Arrancar. That right there is one of the f*cking strangest emotions he’s ever had toward a Hollow. Speaking of which, the damn Hollow who started all of this was pissed off, too. Ogihci was the one who lured Grimmjow back into his old, cannibalistic ways, and yet he was the one who was pissed off. He never stayed in the apartment except to sleep. Instead, he spent his time running around killing and devouring every Hollow in sight, then came home with a fake grin on his face, and threatened at least one person in the apartment. He made the least sense out of them all. From the first night of Ichigo and Grimmjow’s separation, Goro had gotten the sense that Ogihci wasn’t recklessly trying to destroy the fragile balance of the apartment’s ecosystem. It seemed as if he thought this fight between them was needed. As to why—or if it was even true—Goro didn’t know. Ogihci was as mysterious as Shōkōhin. Shōkōhin. Goro groaned and massaged his temples. Why were they plaguing his mind so much? It’s not like what they said or thought of him was important. They were just another Kaizō Konpaku out of...what used to be millions and was now barely a handful. Wow, everything was depressing.

“f*ck, man. You gotta—ngh! You gotta take it easy on me, man."

Blue eyes narrowed and he lifted his head. What was that?

“f*ck...f*ck! Hah! Ah, sh*t! D-dude, I’m getting close, st-stop.”

Pink dusted Goro’s cheeks. No way in hell...that can’t be what it sounds like, can it? Was someone actually that goddamn stupid to do stuff in public? He shouldn’t stick around long enough to find out. Stomach tightening, Goro shifted his feet to make a brisk escape, only to find himself frozen in place by a small, nondescript collection of words.

“What’s the point of stopping? Aren’t we doing this to get off? Or are you the type that likes to drag it out?”

Goro’s stomach knotted and the red in his cheeks intensified. No. f*cking. Way.

“I didn’t think you’d be this go—f*ck! Goddamnit, will you stop that!”

A snickering laugh latched onto Goro’s feet and forced him forward, following the sound. The louder those noises were the more he resisted, fought against the pull, but that damn voice always brought him back, pushed him. The voice led him to an alleyway—naturally—and Goro felt anxiety devour him. He didn’t want to look. Sex wasn’t a problematic topic for him and the action itself was desired, but he didn’t like seeing others doing it. It wasn’t his damn business. He wouldn’t want anyone watching him in an intimate situation like that, so why would he do that to someone else? Not to mention if he saw someone having sex in person and not through a screen or magazine, that usually meant he knew at least one member of the private party.

Colorless hands massaged a stranger’s thighs while black nails glinted in the slipping afternoon light. Unknown fingers clawed through long, flawlessly ashen hair and jerked the attached head. Goro flinched at the rough action, but the one on their knees only moaned and took the co*ck that much deeper into their throat. A blue tongue slipped from smirking, stretched lips and teased a throbbing vein with co*cky amusem*nt in gilded eyes. Holy. sh*t.

“Shōkōhin! What the f*ck are you doing!” Goro barked. A vast swirl of rampaging emotions twisted and tangled inside him as his fingers twitched, resisting the urge to cover his eyes. His teeth were bared, seething, yet his eyes held no heated hatred. The electric blue a faint scent of fear and unease. Toes twitched with the need to escape, but then the stranger looked at him, and Goro’s fingers curled into deadly fists, craving flesh and blood. Poisonous, spiteful words flooded his tongue but his mind screamed for him to apologize and retreat when gold eyes peered at him lazily. Goro wasn’t used to being torn.

“Holy sh*t,” the human scrambled to push Shōkōhin away and fixed his clothing. More curses popped from his mouth when he realized how difficult it was to fit in his skinny jeans without getting off first. He glared in terror at Shōkōhin and hissed. “You never told me you had a boyfriend!”

Shōkōhin snorted harshly and rolled their eyes. They didn’t bother standing up. “Relax. He’s only a roommate. The worst one, actually, which he’s continuing to prove today. What do you want, Goro?”

Shōkōhin was using his real name. He flinched. That actually hurt. It wasn’t a knife in his heart or anything that goddamn dramatic, but it ached. He wasn’t sure why. Goro tried to keep his face stern and his stance offensive. Neither erased the blush on his face. Or how he had to shove his fists in his pockets to hide their shaking and curb his outlandishly violent urges toward the unsuspecting human.

“I don’t want anything from you. What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re in a public place, Shōkōhin! Doing this kind of sh*t is illegal and morally wrong!” Goro barked. He was shocked his voice had the desired bite to it. The anger he was showing didn’t quite match the anger he had inside. Shōkōhin having sexual relations in public wasn’t the problem. Shōkōhin having sexual relations period was the problem. Hell if he knew why.

“Shut up. You’re one to talk about morality. How long did it take for you to try and kiss Kurosaki after he and Jaegerjaquez had a fight? Two minutes? Five, at most?” Shōkōhin replied dryly.

“Oh come on! Why can’t you drop that! That was over a week ago and I haven’t made a move on him since!” Goro snapped.

“Only because Ogihci threatened you.”

“That’s not true! Argh, you’re impossible!”

“I’m impossible? Kurosaki’s been f*cking around with Jaegerjaquez for how long? And you still think you can weasel your way into their relationship?”

“What the f*ck does that matter? Trying to get with someone is not on the same level as sucking off a stranger in a goddamn alley like you’re a f*cking prostitute!”

“Uh.” The human glanced between them as nervous fingers tugged on the stuck zipper. “Are you guys sure there’s not something going on between you?”

Gold and blue eyes glared at the man as both Kaizō Konpaku bared their teeth in anger. “SHUT UP!”

“f*ck, okay!” The man held up his hands in surrender and backed away slowly. “I’m leaving, but y’all have some serious issues.”

They snarled in unison and the man released a pathetic squeak as he ran. Good. Now he could direct his anger at a rational target.

“What the hell were you thinking, Shōkōhin? Did you stop to think about the repercussions of this little stunt? What if you got arrested? Urahara-dono has detailed work, but not so detailed that you’ll have a file to match those fingerprints on your Gigai. Even worse, your fingerprints could be identical to Ichigo’s and you could ruin his name. The kid is trying to become a homicide detective and you could f*ck him over by pulling sh*t like this.” For some reason, of which he, again, didn’t know, he was more angry at what Shōkōhin had done rather than the prospect of what they could have done to Ichigo’s career.

“Get over yourself, Goro. I wouldn’t have gotten caught. That bitch was about to come anyways. If a cop showed up, that human would be the only one to get in trouble. I’m not human, remember? I have powers like you do. I wouldn’t let a human catch me so easily,” Shōkōhin grumbled tensely. They stood up and brushed dirt from their knees as Goro resisted the instinct to look at the obvious erection trapped under impossibly tight jeans. It seemed the Hollow and Ichigo had the same tastes in fashion: tight and revealing.

“You don’t have super speed. Even I would have trouble escaping from the police,” Goro argued.

Shōkōhin shot him a sarcastic smirk. “You say that like you’re stronger than me. You shouldn’t be that confident, Goro.”

Thick arms crossed over a chiseled chest. “You haven’t used any powers since you showed up and I haven’t felt your spiritual pressure even once. It’s like it doesn’t exist. You’re practically human.”

Shōkōhin snorted and brushed the last bits of dirt from their knees with frustrated strength. “I’m not like you, Goro, or Ogihci, or Jaegerjaquez, and I’m definitely not Kurosaki. I never got into the habit of throwing my spiritual pressure around to show off and intimidate. Having powers doesn’t mean jack sh*t about a person. I’m not gonna let it be apart of my identity like the rest of you.”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

Their eyes met. A silent challenge sparkled in Goro’s eyes and a flicker of rage dashed through Shōkōhin’s. The flicker fizzled quickly and the Kaizō Konpaku sighed.

“Call it whatever you want. We’re through here.”

“No, we’re not.”

A large hand grabbed a slim, pale shoulder and in a whirlwind of colors Goro found himself on his back, on the wet ground, with a strong foot pressing hard on his sternum.

“Yes, we are. You have no business in telling me what to do, Goro, nor are you allowed to stop me from what I want to do. If I want to have sex with a stranger, then I’ll do it. If I want to have a goddamn orgy in front of a f*cking crowd in the middle of the f*cking street, then I’ll do it, and you still can’t say sh*t about it.” Shōkōhin toed the bump in Goro’s throat and pressed down, watching unaffected as Goro flinched and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “If you aren’t going to help me get off, then you need to stay out of my goddamn way.”

Goro blushed at the suggestion. Help Shōkōhin get off? Didn’t they hate him? The pressure on his throat increased and Goro coughed, squirming in an attempt to escape.

“Oh, and Goro?”

Blue eyes met gold, his breath stolen as they bled to the same haunting pink as before.

“Order me around, assume that I’m weaker than you, or compare me to Kurosaki one more f*cking time, and I’ll show you how quickly my powers can break every bone in your goddamn body.”

Chapter 51: Ineffable Metanoia

Chapter Text

Ichigo cursed as he wrestled with the door. Snarling insults under his breath, he managed to kick the door open and threw the box in his hands down in an aggravated huff. Angry and wishing to get his frustration out, he kicked the side until it tipped and spilled the contents, a vast collection of used books, onto the floor. Moments later the ginger deflated with a sigh. He toed the door closed, leaned back against it, and sighed again.

“Where are the others?”

Ichigo let out a squeak of surprise as he jumped out of his skin, clutching his heart when he looked to see the intruder. Immediately the muscles in his body locked in place and refused to move. “Gr-I mean, Jaegerjaquez? What are you doing in the dark? You scared the sh*t out of me.”

Grimmjow continued to hold his steely gaze and his guarded stance with arms crossed tight over his chest. “Answer the question.”

Ichigo’s eyes drifted to the floor and his hand fell back to his side. “Ogihci wanted to get out of his body and Shōkōhin wanted to check out the town. Goro went with them to keep an eye on things. I went to get some books I left at Chad’s apartment. Well, more like what I left in his room before we moved here. He’s cleaning up and getting ready to move out because, well, you know. He and Orihime are getting married in a few months and her place is bigger—.”

“You’re rambling, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo closed his mouth. When he was certain he wasn’t going to be interrupted, Grimmjow kept his arms crossed and lifted two fingers, holding up a small pink slip of paper.

“Shōkōhin left a note for me. Says you haven’t been eating,” Grimmjow stated.

Shame washed over him and Ichigo immediately shut down. He held himself tightly and dropped his head as Grimmjow continued.

“Unless you want me to kill you, I advise that you start eating regularly,” Grimmjow said and discarded the note.

Ichigo’s head sank lower.

“It’s not a threat, Kurosaki. I’m merely warning you that if you continue to starve yourself, you’ll grow weak to the point that you won’t stand a chance against me,” Grimmjow stated, keeping his voice firm but not fierce, “I’m not interested in crushing the weak.”

Stars burst in Ichigo’s eyes and shined brightly with hope. Grimmjow tried to ignore how his chest swelled in response. Ishida had been right. He needed encouragement to grow stronger. Grimmjow wouldn’t admit it, at least not vocally or to anyone with ears, but it was good to see those eyes again. Unfortunately, the golden flecks of light extinguished too quickly.

Ichigo wrung his hands as his indecisive eyes jumped from the Arrancar to the floor and back again. “Jaegerjaquez, I...I’m sorry.”

Of course. Grimmjow forced his jaw to relax and gave the human a vaguely confused stare. “The f*ck are you apologizing for?”

Ichigo started to play with the end of his shirt and avoided Grimmjow’s eyes altogether. “For...how I reacted to you. To everything. It wasn’t—.”

“Good lord, Kurosaki, drop this stupid self induced punishment of poetic starvation for having a goddamn opinion. Our morals don’t have to be identical. Hate me for all I care. You’re free to do as you want, but I’m not about to let you die because you want to ‘do the right thing’ and make up for hurt feelings that never existed,” Grimmjow stated.

“But I hurt—.”

“Kurosaki.” His voice was hard and inflexible, strong enough to make Ichigo understand he needed to stop. Once he had control, he eased his appearance by softening his eyes and relaxed his military stance. He didn’t need the boy to be terrified of him. He didn’t want Ichigo to be terrified. All he wanted was for those eyes to look at him again. He needed those stars back. “Look, I’m more pissed off about you willingly letting yourself waste away rather than sh*t you said. And Goro is annoying the f*ck outta me. The boners he gets from you being weaker than him are sad*stic. You’re starving and powerless and the bastard has never been happier.”

Ichigo smiled faintly. “I think he’s more excited about sharing a bed with me than he is about me being powerless.”

Grimmjow snorted and pretended not to notice how Ichigo’s smile beamed with pride at the sound. The ginger knew that was as close as he usually got to genuine laughter. “You’re not wrong about that. Has he made a move yet?”

Ichigo shrugged, his tense shoulders drooping as they fell back into a familiar routine. “Not sure. Ogi’s been sleeping between us every night. I wake up to Ogi clinging to me and Goro nearly laying on the floor because he doesn’t want to touch or be touched by Ogihci,” Ichigo admitted.

Grimmjow smirked at that. “co*ckblocked by a Hollow. I doubt it gets any worse than that.”

Ichigo chuckles softly. It’s awkward. His smiles are that way, too. Grimmjow found himself responding the same way. All of it was awkward as f*ck, but at least it was honest.

“I ordered some takeout and Ishida—I ran into him earlier—said he’d pay the bill. Says he has a tab or something there. I know you’re pretty committed to being dramatic, which isn’t surprising for a guy who reads Shakespeare religiously, but all I’m asking you to do is eat. I don’t suggest refusing. One way or another I’m gonna make sure you eat,” Grimmjow said, his tone unquestionable.

That’s when Ichigo became reserved. He was unsure. The ginger thought he was undeserving of such a basic necessity because of one opinion. This needed to end.

“Which is it, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow asked and regained the attention of honey brown eyes, “Are you going to let yourself starve or are you going to eat?”

Ichigo’s eyes flashed when he recognized the comparison between them. Grimmjow didn’t let himself starve, neither should he.

“I’ll...I’ll eat,” Ichigo said quietly.

“Good—.”

“But on one condition.”

That was mildly surprising. He hadn’t expected the human to have a request. Not after what had happened between them. “Alright, what is it?”

“Sit with me,” Ichigo blurted in a rush, and spoke quickly to make sure he wasn’t interrupted, “Watch some TV. You don’t have to eat, just...hang out.”

His body felt alive from the tiny request. It didn’t mean sh*t but it still rocked Grimmjow to his core. He was lucky he was able to hide it. He gave the boy a nod and shrugged. “Didn’t plan on leaving the room until you cleaned your plate anyways.”

f*ck. That smile was ruining him. It was all he could think about while Kurosaki ate. Hell, he had no f*cking clue what they were watching because he was stuck on that small moment. He missed that smile. He missed Ichigo smiling at him. He missed sitting close to the human. Touching his skin and feeling himself catch fire. Combing his fingers through that silky, orange hair. Those rough hands on his body. Those lips against his. Breathing on his neck. Heated eyes tearing him apart. Grimmjow shivered. He adjusted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other. Whether he missed it or not didn’t matter. He couldn’t have that. They had already proven that whatever was between them wouldn’t work. Grimmjow doubted he could stand to go through that rejection again.

The credits rolled and Grimmjow swallowed. It ended so soon. It felt like seconds had passed. That wasn’t nearly enough time. His fingers curled into fists. That’s all the time he could have. He f*cking hated this.

“Jaegerjaquez...can I ask you something?”

That in itself was a dangerous question. There were so many things he could ask which held so many variables. Most of them, if not all, would undoubtedly cause a negative reaction or possibly an altercation. He was trying to get their sh*t back on track. This type of thing would only destroy his efforts. Grimmjow swallowed again. However...it was a chance to be by Kurosaki’s side longer. “Depends on what you wanna ask,” Grimmjow replied. That was a safe answer. If it was too personal he could just tell Kurosaki to back off and that would be that. No fighting, just words. He didn’t want any more fighting. Not this kind.

A scarred hand rubbed the back of Ichigo’s neck. Hair spilled over his shoulder and shielded the boy’s pretty face from Grimmjow’s perceptive eyes until long fingers tucked shimmering, sparkling locks behind his ear. Grimmjow frowned. The piercings were gone. How had he not noticed before? Actually, now that he was looking at him—really looking at him—the human’s style was lazier than usual. He could almost call it sloppy. Unfashionably baggy clothes. Shirt wrinkled and pants covered in random stains. The type of clothes Ichigo wouldn’t be caught dead in when he wasn’t under depression’s cruel hand.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d, um, if you’d sleep with me again. In my bed, I mean.”

His focus shifted from the boy’s clothes to his face. A pink blush dusted Ichigo’s cheeks and he evaded the Arrancar’s piercing gaze by playing with his shirt.

“Why?” Grimmjow could slap himself for saying such a thing. The answer should have been a hard no. The why wasn’t supposed to matter. Yet it did. Hell if he knew why.

That blush deepened. Ichigo anxiously combed his hair with his fingers and twisted thick strands between them as he regained his courage. At least, enough of it to speak. “I-I know it’s stupid but, like, I haven’t been sleeping well since...since the fight. I know it could be due to the fight but I think it’s, um, because we’re not sleeping togeth—in the same bed.”

Brown eyes stole a glance at the Arrancar and the blush extended to his ears. Grimmjow couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I...I got used to you laying beside me. I mean, your presence helps me relax, I guess. And you always know how to handle my weird nightmares,” Ichigo snuck another glance, “Goro...he wouldn’t know what to do. And, um, it wouldn’t be beneficial for me to...train...while exhausted.”

It was a bullsh*t excuse and they both knew it. Kurosaki could suck it up and they could train as they always had. Yet...he didn’t want to call him out on it. Ichigo wanted to lay next to him. To spend the night with him. It was probably just a damn ploy for Ichigo to act pathetic, apologize, and get his way as he always had before. Grimmjow didn’t care. It was a chance to lay next to him. His body hungered for it. To sleep next to a warm body. To feel the boy’s heartbeat vibrate through the mattress. To feel comfortable and at home. To pretend that everything was okay.

Trying to act nonchalantly, Grimmjow shrugged. “Alright. The couch was f*cking up my back anyways. Goro’s been annoying, too, so he deserves to sleep on a rock.”

sh*t he loved that smile. It got stronger with every use and was so damn radiant even when broken, it was ludicrous. This human had too much power even when powerless.

“Good. Not the ‘Goro sleeping on a rock’ part, but you get what I mean,” Ichigo said, his tone amused.

The tiniest smirk lifted the corner of Grimmjow’s lips.

“Also...I want to talk to you.”

And just like that, it withered away.

Grimmjow’s set his jaw sternly. “No.”

“But—.”

“I told you no. I don’t want to hear an apology.”

“That’s not what I—.”

“Kurosaki,” his gaze was hard and authoritative, “No.”

Ichigo tore his eyes away. He was frustrated. Angry, even. Grimmjow couldn’t change that. This was how things had to be.

No words were spoken as they cleaned up. Dishes were set in the sink to soak. The television shut off. All that was left was to ready themselves for bed. It was strange. Grimmjow had gotten used to changing in front of Ichigo. The ginger had seen him naked countless times and there was no point in privacy now, but neither of them dared to look at the other. It was like the beginning of their odd time together, the first night they shared a bed, before they had sought each other’s flesh and craved to be touched. However, there was one small difference.

Grimmjow pulled back the sheets on his side of the bed, then stilled when he felt eyes watching him. He looked up. “What?”

Ichigo’s confused stare flickered from an interruption of bashfulness. “Are...are you going to wear all of that to bed?”

He followed Ichigo’s gesture and looked down at his clothes. It was a black shirt and red sweats again. The shirt was tight, but the string strangling his hips to make it impossible to remove the sweats was even tighter. It was likely to bruise him by morning but it was for their protection. He wasn’t so sure they could control themselves once they slipped under the covers.

Grimmjow’s brow lifted. “Do you want me to be naked?”

Kurosaki’s reaction was priceless. His entire face burned a furious red and his tongue tripped and stumbled to stammer a simple “no” to which they both knew was a massive lie. Grimmjow snorted. Idiot.

“Turn off the light and go to bed,” Grimmjow ordered. He slipped into his side of the bed and held back a moan. f*cking sh*t. It had only been a week—maybe more—but one night on that couch would break anyone’s back. This bed was a gift from the gods. It made it a little bit easier for Grimmjow to lay on his side and turn his back on Kurosaki. If his emotions were going to be a pain in the ass, at least there wouldn’t be any physical discomfort.

“I said ‘turn off the light’, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow repeated.

There was no reply, no argument. He was lucky Ichigo wasn’t fighting back. Although, it was a disappointment. With a quiet snap, the light shut off. Brief shuffled noises pierced the silence as Ichigo squeezed onto the mattress, then it ended. No sound but their breathing. No movement at all. Their bodies far apart and clinging to the edges of the bed. He f*cking hated it, but this is how it was supposed to be. Grimmjow pushed his face into the pillow and inhaled deeply. He choked on a muffled gag. It smelled like Goro. The whole bed did. It was wrong. His teeth gnashed as he growled. He grabbed the pillow and threw it to the floor with a heated hiss and used his arm to cushion his head. This bed shouldn’t smell like Goro. It was Ichigo’s. It was supposed to smell like him. He swallowed a pathetic whimper and scratched his cheek, then recoiled from the stinging touch. The skin was so f*cked up. Everything was so f*cked up. Nothing made sense anymore. He just wanted to go back. Grimmjow was tired of feeling so alone. Of hungering for simple human touch.

The bed shifted as Ichigo moved. He only expected the boy to turn onto his side. Instead, Grimmjow found himself enveloped in a tight hug and his breath caught. Fire laced arms braced his chest and scarred fingers clawed his shirt, the material stretched under his strength. Soft hair tickled the back of his neck and a hot breath rolled across the exposed flesh. Grimmjow bit his lip and refused to react. He did well, until a warm forehead pressed against his spine and he gasped. Ichigo’s fire consumed him. It started along his spine then bled into his limbs, to his fingertips, until it took everything to keep himself from pulling Ichigo into his arms and kiss him. This was dangerous.

“I’m sorry, Grimmjow.”

The somber words sobered him slightly, just enough to let him control his voice. “Why do you keep doing this? I told you there’s no point in that sh*t.” Arms tightened and the fire encasing his soul snuffed his last breath. This was dangerous. He couldn’t breathe, except to speak Ichigo’s name—which he muted. He couldn’t move, except for his hands itching to touch Ichigo’s skin—which he forced to grip the sheets instead. Grimmjow bit his tongue. What the hell happened to him?

“I’m apologizing because,” Ichigo sucked in a deep breath and struggled to push it out, “because you’re right.”

The fire extinguished and ice tore through him ravenously. Frostbite numbed his fingertips. Icicles punctured his lungs. Life drained from his body as the sun disappeared and ashen snow buried his crushed corpse. Grimmjow gritted his teeth until his jaw popped under the strain. He started to curl in on himself. Broad shoulders hunched. Legs pulled close to his stomach. A spine curved to escape the body behind him. He was right. He was right.

“I’m a cannibalistic monster that won’t hesitate to kill and devour...and you hate me for it. Admit it.”

Goddamnit. Wrinkles marred Grimmjow’s nose as he sneered. How the f*ck could he give Kurosaki a second chance now?

“I said—,” Grimmjow growled at the weakness in his own voice, “I said we’re not discussing this, Kurosaki.”

“I know. I’m ignoring you. I have to say this.”

Ichigo pressed himself closer and nausea pooled inside him. He couldn’t take this anymore. Being touched by the man he thought understood him. The man he thought saw him as more than his species. The man he thought...Grimmjow felt a whimper crawl through his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. The man he thought he could trust. He had changed himself in so many ways for Kurosaki because of that damn word. He promised to help him. He refrained from harming Kurosaki’s friends even when they couldn’t do the same. He allowed Kurosaki to see him at his weakest and most vulnerable. He let Kurosaki touch him and be intimate with him. He risked his damn life for that f*cking human over and over again just to keep him breathing. Trust. The word revolted him. It was a word Hollows were never supposed to believe in, and yet he had, because he thought Kurosaki was different. No one was different. All humans were the same. All Soul Reapers were the same. Hollows, Souls, Kaizō Konpaku, too, they were all the same. No one was trustworthy. Born alone. Live alone. Die alone. Such a goddamn simple concept and yet he still f*cked himself over by disregarding it.

“You were right...but not completely.”

Blue eyes flew open. What?

Ichigo’s fingers traced unintelligible designs into his shirt. “I...I hate that you have to...eat what you do to survive, but I don’t hate you. I’m not sure I can.”

No. f*ck no. He couldn’t let himself fall for this bullsh*t again. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Kurosaki, stop lying to me,” Grimmjow ordered.

“I’m not.”

Grimmjow snarled and ripped Ichigo’s hands from his body and shoved them away. “I saw that damn look on your face, Kurosaki! I know what disgust looks like.”

“That wasn’t about you or even what you are.” Arms held him once more and the Arrancar scratched tanned skin. Lips pressed against his vulnerable neck and carried a whispered confession. “That look was for me.”

The world paused. “What?” Grimmjow croaked.

His grip loosened when Ichigo pressed his chest against his back and the boy’s heartbeat—that beautiful, sweet heartbeat—drummed against his spine.

“You were right about me. I resented what you are, or at least an aspect of it, and I was trying to control and change it,” a dark chuckle broke Ichigo’s words, “I might as well have been playing god, likeyou said.” Lips brushed his ear and Grimmjow swallowed. “I wasn’t disgusted by what you had done. I was disgusted that I had a problem with it. I’m ashamed of it,” Ichigo admitted and snuggled closer for comfort, “By the rules of a Soul Reaper and in the eyes of a human I saw my actions being justified, but I wasn’t seeing it from a Hollow’s perspective. When I hit you...when you tried to kiss me...I realized how stupid and wrong I was. You’re not a human and you’re not a Soul Reaper, but that’s what I was forcing you to be. It was unfair. Cruel. I’m sorry.”

That wildly beating heart pumped so vigorously Grimmjow felt as if it were his own racing as he digested those words. “...Are you serious?” he asked in a whisper.

Ichigo started to pull away and Grimmjow had to stop himself from grabbing the ginger’s wrist to keep him in place. Hands gently pried at his shoulder and rolled Grimmjow onto his back. The Arrancar gasped. Ichigo towered over him as his hair twisted and spilled over his shoulders. The remaining rays of sunlight illuminated Kurosaki in a soft glow. He didn’t look godly or angelic, but pure. Honest. The bruises under his eyes were dark and prominent; they told Grimmjow that he had been grieving, and not for a single night, but every night since that fight. Grieving not for his own loss, but for the pain he inflicted on another. His hair was a mess. Parts were tangled, others bent from being held in a hair tie for too long while it dried from a brief shower. He was paler than usual, too, sickly and exhausted. Ichigo had fallen apart. A hand reached out and cupped his cheek, the fire from before returned. Ichigo’s thumb stroked his mask as those brown eyes bore into his, the irises serious and genuine.

“You know when I’m lying, Grimmjow. Do I look like I’m lying now?” Ichigo asked.

He searched those eyes and found himself breathless to the point that he almost couldn’t speak. “No,” Grimmjow whispered.

Ichigo smiled and the ice consuming him melted away. The human never released his mask, but continued to stroke it, praising it silently with his fingers as a second hand cupped the other side of his face. The smile weakened and those starlit eyes fell somber. A thumb brushed over the red patch of flesh on his cheek. “I’m so sorry I made you do this, Grimmjow,” Ichigo stopped and cleared his throat when his voice tightened, then smiled as he held back what was surely a sob, “Does it hurt?”

Did it hurt? The skin burned when a breeze caressed it. Ichigo touching it now, although gently, was painful enough to make him want to scream. But that mark...it was nowhere near as painful as the distance between him and Kurosaki. Blue eyes searched for any discrepancies, for lies and dishonesty, but found nothing. Kurosaki was as he looked. A depressed bastard who made a mistake and was crying about it. He was truthful. Grimmjow’s chest heaved.

“Grimmjow? Are you o—.”

Large hands snatched the front of Ichigo’s shirt and yanked him down. Grimmjow crushed their lips in a passionate, if not a bit desperate, kiss. An explosion of heat overwhelmed him. It coursed through his veins with burning sparks, igniting fires throughout his body until he shook. Everything had been dull for so long. Now he felt alive again. Ichigo gasped and Grimmjow took advantage of the opening. He pushed his tongue inside the boy’s mouth and moaned at the taste. f*ck, he had missed this. Ichigo tasted as sweet as he remembered. Grimmjow had never been able to label that sweetness, but he came to know it as purely Kurosaki. Sweet enough to keep him addicted with enough spice to make him drool. He could never forget this taste. He never wanted to. He wanted to savor that flavor daily; to spend every waking second submerged in that wonderful taste. Eventually, Ichigo melted against him, gave up on resisting, and kissed back with hunger that attempted to rival the Arrancar’s. Each kiss and eager tug of Grimmjow’s hands brought them closer and closer until Ichigo straddled Grimmjow’s hips with callused hands framing a sharp jaw. The moan he built in his chest escaped as a breathless groan when fingers tangled in orange hair to deepen their kiss. Ichigo wasn’t close enough. He needed to be closer. Grimmjow pressed on the boy’s lower back. They needed to be inseparable. Grimmjow added more pressure. He never wanted to feel alone again.

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow murmured against freckled lips.

A tongue flicked over the roof of his mouth. He groaned and shivered from the pleasure.

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow insisted.

The man was too far gone to respond. Too caught up in their reunion to do anything but feel what he had been missing. Grimmjow smiled against Ichigo’s lips and moaned, loving how the ginger responded with a desperate whine. It was rather cute to see Ichigo overwhelmed with hunger like this, but he really needed his attention. He tugged on a handful of hair and bucked his hips, grinding mercilessly against the man above him. Ichigo broke their kiss with a surprised moan and trembled.

“Ichigo.” Grimmjow peppered the human’s lips and cheek with brief kisses as he continued with a desperate pant, “f*ck me.”

There was a stunned pause and the body above him morphed into a statue. Grimmjow sighed. He should’ve known the brat was going to be difficult.

“WHAT!”

Grimmjow winced at the volume of Ichigo’s voice and frowned when the boy tried to pull away. Grimmjow grabbed the wrinkled shirt to keep the ginger from going too far.

“Grimmjow, you can’t be serious!” Ichigo’s hands were flailing now, his panic increasing with each flap. “I hurt you and only just now apologized! We shouldn’t even be kissing! We need to wait—.”

This was so f*cking stupid. Grimmjow tightened his grip on the boy’s shirt and pulled him in for another kiss. Ichigo tried to argue, to push back, but Grimmjow wouldn’t let a centimeter come between them. With each press of lips and each pass of fingers through orange hair, he felt the human’s resolve weaken, his desire overwhelming his decisions.

“No waiting. I want this,” Grimmjow whispered against pink lips, “f*ck me.”

“Grimmjow, I—.”

“I trust you.”

Ichigo’s breath hitched and Grimmjow mirrored the nervous anxiety with a gulp. They both knew how important those words were. Ichigo wanted to resist, but he didn’t stand a chance against those blue eyes. The ginger bit his lip and his resolve crumbled. “f*ck,” Ichigo groaned and smashed their lips in another kiss.

“Yes,” Grimmjow gasped. Finally.

It was easier to give Kurosaki control than he originally thought. Back at the training grounds, Ichigo had to literally pin him in place with swords to even get a chance to take the lead. Now the boy only had to push that pierced tongue into his mouth and he was putty in scarred hands. To be honest, though, Grimmjow highly doubted there was anyone who could resist a tongue like that. Piercing aside, the bastard had too much talent and control over that damn muscle. His co*ck twitched at the memory of that tongue on his body. He would kill to use Kurosaki’s mouth and throat again. Hands traveled down his sides as they kissed and he shivered at each simple touch. The more they touched him the more the voice in his head chanted “yes, yes, yes!” as he squirmed under the heat. He missed those hands so goddamn much. When they finally, finally, disappeared under his shirt he gave up on controlling his voice. Burning palms brushed across his bare skin just above his hips and scattered sparks and shivers through famished flesh. His arms wrapped around Kurosaki, one reaching up to pull on orange hair and the other scratching a clothed back. f*ck. Nails grazed his hips and scratched a trail up to his waistline. The ginger counted each rib his fingertips grazed and Grimmjow’s back arched in sync with the teasing touch to chase the sensation. The higher those wonderful hands traveled the more his torso was exposed, his shirt bunching under his arms. Logically, he should be freezing at this point. The blanket they shared had been pushed to the foot of the bed when the chaos started and now chilled moonlight sliced through the darkness. Instead, he was on fire. Ichigo’s heat seeped into his body and ignited a flame within him, one that raged through every muscle and tendon and made him sensitive to everything Ichigo did. Thumbs brushed over his nipples. Grimmjow’s breath hitched. Rough hands squeezed the hard muscle of his chest, trying to fit as much of those pecs as he could in his grasp; he whimpered. Fingers pinched and tugged rosy pink nipples and Grimmjow flushed as he lost himself in another moan and pushed his chest further into the man’s skilled hands. The sharp teeth of his mask snagged a freckled lip and sliced into thin, vulnerable skin. Neither of them noticed. Neither of them cared. They didn’t dare break their embrace over something trivial like blood. They let it smear between their lips and across their faces. Each kiss spread the mess until it ended up on their tongues, in their mouths, and they still said nothing. They wanted to taste everything, touch everything, and feel everything the other was and had to offer.

Hot hands released his chest and tugged on Grimmjow’s shirt. The Arrancar immediately lifted himself just enough for Ichigo to pull the material over his head, pausing their kiss for the briefest moment, and continued in their lust as the shirt was thrown to the floor. Those wickedly talented fingers pinched and pulled on his nipples once more and Grimmjow couldn’t hold back his moans. He loved it when Ichigo touched him there. The rough pads on the human’s fingertips scratching against such a tender part of Grimmjow’s anatomy was hot in the first place; combined with the boy’s strength and heat the experience made his mouth water. He had tried to do it to himself, teasing his body in the shower in a vain attempt to get off without the ginger’s help, but it wasn’t the same. Hell, jacking off, in general, wasn’t pleasurable anymore. Not unless those hands were on his body or those eyes were watching him. Grimmjow was utterly enslaved by the ginger’s flame.

Two knuckles framed his left nipple and before he could form letters on his tongue the knuckles snapped together in a harsh, pinching squeeze. Grimmjow cried out as lightning struck his spine. He clawed at Ichigo’s back to ground himself and trembled from the aftershocks. He whimpered. sh*t. “That hurt, ya bastard,” Grimmjow grumbled. He went ignored. Two more knuckles trapped the second nipple and both were pinched at the same time with the same painful intensity. Grimmjow cried out again, loud as his spine arched and his hips bucked. sh*t. His fingers clawed at the material of Ichigo’s shirt. Wrinkled, cheap threads popped under the inhuman strength.

“So goddamn responsive,” Ichigo panted, “If you didn’t make sounds like that I wouldn’t do this.”

The hell was he supposed to do? Not make any noises? That was f*cking impossible when someone like Kurosaki was touching him. The pleasurable pain struck again and Grimmjow released another pathetic cry.

“f*ck that’s gorgeous. You’re f*cking eager for this, aren’t you?” Ichigo purred.

Grimmjow wanted to shout duh at the top of his lungs but he found himself incapable of producing anything besides those embarrassing little mewls. He was seriously going to hate himself in the morning.

Finally, finally, he was given a chance to breathe...momentarily. Ichigo’s hands retreated to Grimmjow’s hips and the Arrancar was swept up in another kiss. When his hands scratched the ginger’s back he realized how much he had been taking for granted. While lean, Ichigo’s muscle structure was amazing. The muscle that shifted under Grimmjow’s fingers was hard, controlled, and overflowed with immense power. His shoulders were broad, too. Wide enough for Grimmjow to cling to when a tongue f*cked his mouth. Wide enough for Ichigo to bend him in half and f*ck him with his legs hooked on those shoulders. sh*t, he wanted that. He wanted to feel Ichigo push him around and force his body into a tricky position. Make the Arrancar show off his flexibility as Ichigo slammed into him, rough and hard. If Ichigo really pushed his limit, Grimmjow was sure he could come on his own face. f*ck. He really shouldn’t want sh*t like that. Something was wrong with him.

“f*cking hell, man,” Ichigo snarled as his fingers fumbled with the string on his sweats, “Why the f*ck did you tie this so damn tightly?”

“Didn’t...didn’t trust our self control,” Grimmjow panted, and immediately laughed afterward. He had been right to question them.

Ichigo snickered with him, pausing in his actions to press his forehead to Grimmjow’s, and smiled as he studied blue eyes. Grimmjow smiled back. This felt good. Right, even. His chest swelled with so many emotions that he was sure he was going to explode and his arms trembled with need to express physically what he felt on the inside, but he held himself back and smiled brightly instead. This felt amazing. He felt weightless. If this was happiness, he was going to get f*cking addicted to it. He never wanted this feeling to end.

Ichigo didn’t want it to end either. With a gentle caress of his jaw, the ginger kissed Grimmjow softly. His lips lingered briefly and left a lasting impression the Arrancar continued to feel when Ichigo pulled away. Blue eyes fluttered closed and Grimmjow tilted his head with a quiet groan as warm lips praised his jawline.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Hands drifted from his sweats and took hold of his small waist with burning yet careful strength. It seemed like Ichigo wanted to take things slower. At least temporarily. Grimmjow bit his tongue to hold back his impatient words. As much as he would love to tell Kurosaki to hurry his ass up, he had a feeling that Ichigo needed this. Guilt wasn’t something the ginger gave up easily.

“Beautiful and strong. Intelligent and deadly.”

Groans eased from his throat as those same lips kissed his neck and loved each aged hickey and bruise with a drag of a dripping wet tongue. Orange hair cascaded down Ichigo’s back and fell in thick waves, the tips brushing pale skin stretched across a tender chest and ticklish clavicle. Teeth nipped at the front of his throat and Grimmjow grunted weakly.

“I can’t believe someone like you exists. That something so lovely wouldn’t want to waste their time on someone like me.”

It didn’t take long for Grimmjow to figure out what he was doing. By the time those lips reached the top of his scar, he knew Ichigo intended to embrace every last inch of his body. At least, what he could, before they got impatient.

“You deserve so much more than me. Someone better than me.”

Soft, pink lips parted to argue again when chapped lips inched down his sternum and thumbs stroked his sides. Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably. This could hardly be categorized as sex. It felt amazing and was definitely sexual by nature, but it wasn’t sex. It was something much more. Something hard to swallow and pushed to the back of Grimmjow’s mind to be thought about another time. He didn’t care what this was. He wanted it. Badly. With each kiss, Grimmjow’s breath grew heavy. The intensity of it all weighed down on his lungs and made it impossible to breathe. Asphyxiation from being kissed would be a really embarrassing way to go. Kurosaki wasn’t even kissing his mouth! The only way it made a sliver of sense is if Kurosaki were to—

A hot breath rolled over Grimmjow’s pelvis and the Arrancar stilled. Rough hands grazed pale thighs, soon to be directed over firm shoulders as Ichigo settled further. The warm breath slipped lower as fingers hooked on the band of his sweats. Oh, f*ck no. Grimmjow’s hands lashed out and pushed Ichigo’s forehead, holding him back as lustful brown eyes lifted from his hidden co*ck to his face.

“Grimm, why are you stopping me?” Ichigo asked.

Damn that voice was husky. Kurosaki seriously wanted to blow him. He craved it. How could someone enjoy being used so much?

“Hell no. The moment you put my co*ck in your mouth this whole thing will be over. I ain’t lettin’ that happen,” Grimmjow stated firmly as a wild blush stained his cheeks.

“You’ve climaxed twice in a row before,” Ichigo offered.

Hands stroked Grimmjow’s thighs and he blushed more. “That doesn’t happen every time, Kurosaki. I don’t want to go into this and use up my only climax before getting to the main event. I don’t know if I’ll even enjoy it,” he argued.

His words seemed to make Ichigo pause. The lust fogging brown irises lifted as he stared at Grimmjow curiously. Eye contact. Grimmjow looked away awkwardly but kept his hands in place. He hated it when people tried to figure him out. They always stared as if his face would provide the answers. He understood that certain expressions or physical appearances could reveal information about a person but it couldn’t explain everything. Apparently, he had one of those faces that spelled “stupid, loudmouth asshole” in big fat letters. He’ll own up to being an asshole, but he wasn’t a moron and he definitely wasn’t a loudmouth. Aside from the first and second Espada, he was the quietest out of the ten. Sure, he boasted here and there and voiced his opinion on occasion, but not often enough to stand out. Existing in the spotlight while under Aizen’s authority was not a position one wanted to be in. Ugh. Thinking about those bastards was not helping his boner in the slightest.

“You’re nervous.”

Blue eyes snapped to brown. Ichigo was smiling. The curve of his lips shaped by understanding, affection, and a small, minuscule dash of concern.

“The hell are you talking about?” Grimmjow replied gruffly.

Ichigo’s smile extended to his eyes, soft and kind. “You’re nervous. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. This is your first time receiving, isn’t it?”

He could hardly swallow. Nervous. When had he ever been nervous? Impatient, sure. Anxious, only when it came to ripping innards out of his enemies. Nervous? Was that what he felt? The pit of his stomach was heavy while the rest of his body seemed to float in a mysterious fog with a killer hidden amongst it. The tips of his fingers felt a need to drum on the mattress to expel energy and allow the rest of his body to appear relaxed. Hell, he was nervous. Why? Sex wasn’t that big of a deal. Thousands of people did it every day. Animals did it without a thought. He shouldn’t be nervous. It’s not like Kurosaki was a threat. Whether he had powers or not didn’t matter. Kurosaki could be twice as strong as himself and Grimmjow still wouldn’t sweat over the kid being in control. He wasn’t the type to take advantage of others. What had Ichigo asked him? His first time receiving? Could that really be it?

“Why would I be nervous about bottoming?” His tone was dry and sardonic, but his face was more honest and open, asking Ichigo for validation of what he felt.

“Well, it’s not an easy thing. I mean, I guess some people don’t really think about it, but for others, it can be harder.” Ichigo slid Grimmjow’s thighs from his shoulders and sat up. “My first time wasn’t great. The guy I was with didn’t really give a sh*t about me—the feeling was mutual—and he was demanding and manipulative, more or less pushing me around to get what he wanted.”

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Grimmjow scoffed.

Ichigo chuckled. “Yeah, he wasn’t the best choice to be the guy who took my virginity, but it was my decision. It was stupid and made in desperation to mend the image others held of me. I’m not the type of guy that likes to be ordered around. Bottoming for a guy like that was hard.” His smile dimmed into something bittersweet. “The second guy was better. Perfect, even. He respected me and gave me pleasure instead of being selfish. It was easier to submit to a guy like him.”

His brow furrowed. That Quincy really made it enjoyable for him? He shouldn’t have been surprised. Uryū treated Kurosaki differently from how he treated the Arrancar. Although, he hadn’t pegged Ishida to be a top. That was surprising.

“How were you able to submit to me? I’m your enemy. I’ve tried to kill you and threatened you and harmed your friends—I’m not exactly the most trustworthy guy. How did you know that I wasn’t going to…,” Grimmjow swallowed and realized what he was truly asking, “How did you know that I wouldn’t hurt you? That it would...feel good?”

That smile was a tranquilizer on his nerves. Bit by bit he felt his concerns drain away until only the moment remained. He couldn’t believe that smile could do such a thing to him, or that Ichigo would be the cause.

“We’ve been living together for a few months. During all that time you’ve helped me train. Helped me regain my confidence. Protected me. Saved me. Worried about me. You even felt guilty when you harmed me and then took care of me. If you wanted to use me you could have done so without jumping through all those hoops or without my knowledge or consent. I knew you wanted to make me feel good,” Ichigo cupped his cheek and smirked, “Plus, with a co*ck like that I doubted you would disappoint me. You seemed to know what you were doing.”

Grimmjow scoffed but couldn’t help his returned smile and blush. Ichigo was right. He had no reason to be worried. A co*ck like that was definitely going to feel good and Ichigo was far more experienced than he was.

“We can switch places if you want. You know I don’t mind being on bottom,” Ichigo offered.

Grimmjow snorted. “Hell no. I told you, I’m not nervous, Kurosaki. Stop dawdling and get back to work. I’m getting impatient.”

For f*ck’s sake that damn smile shouldn’t affect him as much as it did. Eyes dancing, Ichigo snagged on the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head, tossing it away like he had with Grimmjow’s not long ago. f*ck he missed that body. He found himself reaching out to Kurosaki, silently asking him to move closer so he could touch him. Ichigo did so willingly. He led Grimmjow’s legs to lock around his hips and leaned in. Their lips met in another tender kiss. Teeth nipped and teased playfully to encourage lips to part. Tongues searched slowly while the two panted, pale hands traveling across a scarred torso. None of those scars presented Kurosaki to be a victim. Each one, rough and raised or smooth and carved, spoke of hardships and challenges and how he faced them with bravery. He was so young to be so mangled. Fighting for his life at the age of fifteen, Grimmjow couldn’t imagine the amount of courage someone had to have to do what he did. It wasn’t like Kurosaki was born into that world either. He was only a human. He was stronger than any bastard he had ever known. Grimmjow was so lost in his own thoughts and admiration that he hadn’t noticed long fingers loosening the strings of his pants until they hooked on the edge of his sweats and tugged. He groaned into their kiss and lifted his hips, giving Kurosaki enough room to pull them down as he wrapped his arms around him for a closer, deeper kiss.

“f*ck. You’re not wearing underwear,” Ichigo murmured breathlessly.

“Too much clothes to wear to bed,” Grimmjow replied. Another reason why he tied his sweats so tightly.

He refused to let their kiss end. He clung to Ichigo when the ginger attempted to pull away and forced him to find another way. It was difficult and awkward, but Ichigo managed to free Grimmjow’s legs and threw the sweats away in excitement, his hands instantly searching new skin. He gasped into the other’s mouth as a callused hand took hold of his co*ck and stroked him at a leisurely pace, teasing him. Whining, Grimmjow scratched Ichigo’s back as he rocked into the heated grasp and moaned. He missed that hand so goddamn much.

“I need to get lube, Grimm,” Ichigo whispered into their kiss, “You’d hate me if we tried to do it without it.”

Kurosaki was right. He hated him just for that. He didn’t want to let him go. Not again. “You got two seconds,” Grimmjow huffed, kissing him deeply one last time before releasing him.

Ichigo chuckled and pecked his lips before pulling back. It took no time at all for Ichigo to wiggle out of his remaining clothes when his feet touched the floor, even less time for him to find the lube in his nightstand, when he paused. “Uh, I...we, um, still don’t have condoms. Do you want me to run and get some or I can pull out before...you know.”

Grimmjow couldn’t believe Kurosaki could still blush considering everything they had already done together. “Get over her and get to work before I lose interest, idiot,” Grimmjow scoffed.

All this guy did was laugh and damnit Grimmjow loved it. Ichigo’s hand disappeared into the drawer and pulled out a small bottle, closing the drawer with a smirk. “Oh, so you’re a demanding bottom. Why am I not surprised?” Ichigo taunted.

“You’re a f*ckin’ noisy bottom but you never heard me complain, ya bastard,” Grimmjow growled.

“That’s because you liked it,” Ichigo slipped back into bed and towered over Grimmjow with a co*cky grin, and purred deeply, “I’m not complaining either. I like the princess types.”

“I ain’t afraid to hit you, Kurosaki,” he warned.

A low groan tumbled from Ichigo’s tongue as he leaned in and Grimmjow blushed at the sound. “f*ck, I hope you do. I love it when you’re rough.” The bottle cap clicked and Grimmjow’s legs twitched, wanting to squeeze his thighs tightly together. “Remember the first time you touched me? Your hand felt so goddamn good on my co*ck. I couldn’t stop moaning. Begging for you to touch me more. Chanting your name.” A rush of memories overwhelmed him and Grimmjow groaned softly, co*ck twitching against the edge of the sensitive Hollow hole, teasing it. Ichigo smiled. The ginger leaned in and kissed him briefly before moving his attention to Grimmjow’s jaw and neck. “I was so loud you had to mute me. Covered my mouth with your hand. I bit you so hard when I came that you were bruised for weeks. Sexiest damn thing that’s ever happened to me.” Ichigo moaned in his ear. “The first time you f*cked me I couldn’t breathe. You were merciless. And the way you bit my throat, f*ck, it still turns me on just thinking about it.”

Oh hell, he was dying. Grimmjow’s head was swimming from the swirl of memories, his mind trying to focus on words and his body on Ichigo’s hands. A slick drop of lube landed on the tip of his co*ck and he whimpered. Teeth bit his lip as Ichigo kissed the side of his face and gently pushed Grimmjow’s legs apart. A plastic bottle settled by his hip and Grimmjow stopped breathing. Oh f*ck. Oh, f*ck this was really happening. He had no reason to be scared but damnit he was.

“It’s okay. We’ll go at your own pace,” Ichigo murmured into his ear, “Tell me when to move and when to stop, okay? You can have as much control as you need.”

Goddamnit. Why was this guy so nice? “Just—go for it. If we wait I’m just going to freak myself out.”

A hum of acknowledgment rang in his ear as Ichigo adjusted his position. Fingers combed through his hair and cradled the back of his head to guide him into a long, gentle kiss. Grimmjow’s eyes fluttered closed as he hummed in response. With each kiss, his body melted and opened up to the man above him. When he felt the first finger press against him, his body tensed, but Ichigo kept his word and didn’t move until Grimmjow tilted his head in a slight nod. Slowly, Ichigo pushed his finger inside. His breath hitched at the odd feeling. It didn’t hurt and it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it definitely felt...off. He continued kissing Ichigo until he was too distracted to give effort. He forgot how long Ichigo’s fingers were. The first alone reached so deep, it seemed like hours before it was all inside him. Ichigo was gentle as he thrusted the finger inside him, pushing in and pulling out steadily. It wasn’t exactly the most physically pleasing thing he had ever felt, but there was enough friction and sexual tension between them for a small spark to ignite within his stomach.

“Ready for a second finger?” Ichigo asked.

Unable to speak, Grimmjow nodded. That’s when he felt it. There was a slight sting as the second finger stretched a ring of muscle. It wasn’t too drastic of a difference. Again, not really painful, but he felt it. There was something inside him. In him. Stretching him lewdly and pushing in deep. Then they thrusted in unison. It caused more friction, more sensations, and the muscle burned as Ichigo scissored his fingers. Short grunts and heated pants crept through Grimmjow’s throat as the heat in his belly started to simmer. He was starting to understand why Kurosaki enjoyed prep so much. It was necessary, of course, but it felt pretty good, too. Ichigo must have realized that he no longer needed to be constantly distracted and retreated to a better view. He rubbed Grimmjow’s thigh in comfort as he watched himself work. Watched as his fingers pried him open and sank deeply into the tight heat. This was starting to feel good. But it wasn’t enough.

“M-more,” Grimmjow panted, teeth chewing on his bottom lip, “Give me more.”

He loved that f*cking smile so damn much. If he had a heart he was sure it would burst at the mere sight of it.

“Alright. Let me know if it’s too much,” Ichigo reminded.

It was doubtful that a third finger could make such a difference. At least, that’s what he had thought. The difference was obvious and immediate the moment the third finger started to push in. The burn increased, but Grimmjow couldn’t focus on it. He stretched wider and those fingers sank deeper and when Ichigo spread his fingers apart...Grimmjow moaned wantonly as his spine arched, faint yet noticeable, as his hips lifted to meet Ichigo’s careful thrusts. sh*t. He never knew being so open would feel so amazing. Those fingers inside him; forcing him open, pushing deep, stroking his sensitive walls and stretching him—they caused his mouth to flood with drool. His thighs pushed further apart, inviting Ichigo closer, deeper. Noises he was sure to be embarrassed of by tomorrow poured from his tongue like a long prayer. Moans and groans. Soft little whimpers and encouraging gasps. Each and every last one fell from his lips and added fuel to the fire.

“F-faster,” Grimmjow gasped and his hips bucked, “H-harder.”

A lustful cry escaped his throat and his whole body shook, unprepared for the massive wave of pleasure that crashed through him when Ichigo followed his instructions. Blue eyes squeezed shut as fingers curled into the mattress. Pale limbs trembled as the Arrancar tried to swallow his reactions, finding it impossible the as time went on. He was only faintly aware that he was speaking to Ichigo. He had no clue what he said until a fourth finger lined up and pushed in. Another. Grimmjow cursed under his breath, his eyes still shut as they rolled back. Then it happened. Ichigo fingers curled, scraping gently in search of something, and pressed hard. Grimmjow’s eyes flew open and he moaned loudly, lungs aching as his whole body surged at the invasive pleasure ripping through every last atom within him. Callused fingertips continued to massage that spot as Ichigo murmured torturous purrs and compliments. He was relentless, scratching his prostate without warning or letting up, brown eyes grinning as Grimmjow continued to lose control. sh*t. Soft “ahh’s” and short “haah’s” squeezed through Grimmjow’s tight throat as his spine lifted from their bed. One hand held onto the sheets for dear life as another, shaking and weak, searched blindly for Ichigo’s skin. Orange hair brushed the back of his fingers and he grasped blindly at the air and caught a small fistful of hair. Still trembling, Grimmjow tugged on the locks in gentle earnest, mouth too full of moans to form words. It was too much. Way too much. He needed to tell Ichigo to stop. Muscles flexed in his jaw and his tongue danced, but no words formed. He tugged harder on Ichigo’s hair to get his attention. The ginger only groaned in return, not understanding his desperation. Those four fingers continued their brutal work, stretching him and thrusting deep, teasing and curling and rubbing his prostate until white slowly edged into his outer vision. f*ck. Grimmjow clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth as the overwhelming buzz in his veins caught fire and consumed him, pushing him over the edge with one final thrust. A guttural cry burst from Grimmjow’s chest as he came, co*ck spitting cum across his body while he shook. He pushed off the bed with his heels, thighs twitching and trembling as wave after wave washed through him; then the white flash vanished and his energy drained. He collapsed with a gasp and panted as he tried to regain his senses. He was still shaking. Somehow he felt like he was floating and sinking at the same time, numb and sensitive as he stared in awe at the ceiling above him. Wow.

“Grimm? You okay?” Fingers eased out of him slowly and Grimmjow whined at the emptiness. Ichigo leaned into his line of sight and gave him a concerned quirk of his lips. “You need to breathe, hon.”

All he could do was stare. Hon? Did Kurosaki just call him hon? What was that? A f*cking term of endearment? Was he serious? f*cking hell. Why did he like the sound of it? Wanting to pull his thoughts away from the strange word he tried to do as Kurosaki said and regulated his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Breathing. Relaxing. Calming.

Ichigo’s smile turned proud and his hand brushed through Grimmjow’s hair. “There we go. You did really well, Grimm. Did you enjoy it?”

Blue eyes drilled into brown. “Shut up, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow grumbled, too exhausted to say anything more.

The ginger laughed, his teeth sparkling with his eyes. They were poorly mismatched with the boy’s tangled hair and the bruises under his eyes, but in a way, they added to his charm. Grimmjow preferred seeing Ichigo happy and healthy, but it was good to be reminded that the boy was human. He had vulnerabilities and faults just like everyone else. An imperfect god, if a god at all. He searched Ichigo’s freckled face. Kurosaki wasn’t a god, not by a longshot, and Grimmjow might have preferred it that way. It still made him an outstanding being, still high above the rest, but now his expectations weren’t so unfair. Being human, having faults, they gave a person room to change and adapt; to evolve and become something better, more. An imperfect human sharing and asking for forgiveness, dedicating their fraction of infinite time to grow into a better life form with countless impact on other lives, held so much more meaning than a flawless god. An imperfect existence full of mistakes was more desirable than ridiculous expectations.

“You ready for more, or did I wear you out?” Ichigo teased. He placed a hand on either side of Grimmjow’s head and hovered over him. A tanned, tired, and beautiful mess.

His lips curled to match the grin on Ichigo’s face. This Ichigo, running on fumes and seconds away from falling apart, was more approachable than the godly one. Grimmjow hadn’t realized it until now...but how he saw Ichigo before made him seem unattainable. Righteous Kurosaki highlighted all of his angelic features and, alternatively, cast shadows on Grimmjow. They were worlds apart. A hero and a villain, never meant to be and never to change in dynamic. Now, they were even. Equally sane, and just as equally f*cked up. Neither was better than the other. They had their strengths. Their weakness. Yet they were still equal. Deserving of each other.

Large fingers tugged on the tangled ends of orange hair, dragging the human closer. “f*ck me, Ichigo, or I’ll f*ck myself and leave you high and dry,” he threatened.

A hummed chuckle rumbled in Ichigo’s throat as he leaned in for a kiss. “Say it again.”

A chaste kiss touched his lips and another immediately followed it. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “f*ck me, Ichigo. I want you in me, stretching me and making me moan,” he whispered and kissed back.

“Hhhn, f*ck. Again,” Ichigo demanded, breathless and earnest, kissing Grimmjow deeply.

Combing fingers through orange hair, Grimmjow pulled Ichigo closer as their kiss grew heated. Each press of their lips rebuilt the arousal from before. Each kiss parted their lips and loosened their tongues, faint groans and hums passing between them with each sweet smack of wet lips and clicks of clumsy teeth.

“f*ck me, Ichigo. f*ck me so hard I can’t walk. I want to feel you inside me. Feel you stretch me with your co*ck. Make me moan as you f*ck me so deep I can feel you in my stomach,” Grimmjow panted. Hot skin brushed his sensitive co*ck and the Arrancar sucked in a deep breath, sighing weakly as Ichigo stroked him, making him hard again.

“You’re so goddamn sexy,” Ichigo murmured, “I can’t believe you’d let a guy like me touch you.”

“I’m not letting you do anything,” Grimmjow corrected, “I want you to touch me, Ichigo. Hurry up. I’m tired of waiting.” He forced Ichigo to meet his eyes. “f*ck me.”

A low growl rolled from Ichigo’s tongue and Grimmjow shivered at the sound. The lube beside his hip vanished as Ichigo kissed him hungrily for the last time. He kissed back, forgetting everything else but those split lips. Ichigo had changed everything. Before, sex didn’t mean a goddamn thing to him. In fact, he was ashamed of it, of needing to do such a thing. Now he was fully equipped to do any goddamn shameful thing Ichigo wanted. Kissing was another difference. Before he was clumsy and awkward, trying, but not skilled enough to bring any actual pleasure. Now he had Ichigo moaning in his mouth and kissing him back as if his life depended on it. Granted, that reaction could also be due to Ichigo stroking himself while coating his co*ck in lube, but it was about damn time he started thinking better of himself. He had to, if he wanted Ichigo to do the same.

Grimmjow parted his legs further. “Ichigo,” he whimpered.

“Sorry, hon, I’m ready now.” A small kiss to his temple and Ichigo pulled back. Warm hands framed thighs around his hips and Ichigo reached down to stroke himself again, aligning himself at Grimmjow’s entrance. “Ready?”

“f*ckin’ hurry up,” Grimmjow growled impatiently.

Another chuckle. Another smile. Another star twinkling in his eye. Another reason for Grimmjow to be completely infatuated with this human. A heated tip pressed against him and Grimmjow swallowed. Anxious, but excited. For the first time in his life, he was going to let someone have control and it was going to be Ichigo. There couldn’t be anyone better. Ichigo whispered gentle words to soothe him before finally pushing his hips forward. No amount of preparation could have prepared him for Ichigo. Slowly, ever so slowly, Ichigo’s co*ck pushed inside. His breath caught when the head was fully seated and his lungs vanished altogether when Ichigo pushed in further. Oh f*ck. Grimmjow’s fingers unfurled from the mattress one by one as his jaw trembled. The more Ichigo pushed in the more he was stretched. The human was so much thicker than his f*cking fingers. He was sure some of this was supposed to hurt but all he could feel was full. It felt so goddamn good to be stretched like this. Then Ichigo’s co*ck pushed past the limit of his fingers. Oh, f—

Grimmjow’s hands ripped away from the sheets and smothered his mouth, muting himself when Ichigo groaned. f*cking hell Ichigo was big. Grimmjow already knew that but he didn’t understand it. His thighs shook as he pulled his legs further apart. Inch by inch Ichigo filled him, co*ck hard and hot and pulsing inside him. Grimmjow pressed harder on his mouth to push a whine back down his throat. Tears pricked his eyes. f*ck. When was Ichigo going to stop? He could already feel the man in his stomach. How could he keep going? The shaking in his body worsened when Ichigo moaned, murmuring about how tight he was, and continued sinking in. f*ck, f*ck, f*ck! Blue eyes rolled back before Grimmjow squeezed them shut. Still trembling, his body lifted off the mattress as his back arched drastically, chest inflating and deflating with unused curses and whines.

“f*ck. You’re so damn tight,” Ichigo groaned. Taking hold of Grimmjow’s hips he pushed forward with a small thrust, his co*ck fully seated inside. “Haah, sh*t. f*ck, you feel so good.” Brown eyes opened to see blue screwed shut. Frowning, Ichigo reached out to tug on Grimmjow’s wrists but his hands wouldn’t budge. “Grimm? Hon, are you alright? You have to talk to me. Am I hurting you? Do we need to stop?”

Grimmjow clawed at his own face. He was reluctant to let go, fearing what might fall out of his mouth, but he couldn’t risk Ichigo pulling out. He couldn’t let this end so quickly. When Ichigo tugged on his wrists one last time, Grimmjow let them fall away. His back arched further, dangerously close to snapping while his lungs filled with air as he moaned. Loudly. Damnit. He couldn’t stop shaking either. Blue eyes cracked open. He needed Ichigo closer. He needed to hold onto something strong. He needed Ichigo. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. F-f*ck me. I need you to f*ck me, Ichigo. Please,” Grimmjow begged, biting his tongue with a yelp as he clamped down on the co*ck inside him. His thoughts short circuited and burned, making it impossible to do anything but feel. More. More.

Ichigo stared at Grimmjow with a soft, loving gaze—all of which Grimmjow was too lost to register. “Alright, hon, we’ll start off slow. Whenever you’re ready for more, I’ll give it to you.” He pressed their bodies close and shivered when Grimmjow panted in his ear. He led trembling arms around his neck, biting his lip when Grimmjow fisted his hair and clawed his shoulder. “Take it easy, baby. I’ll make you feel good.”

Grimmjow cried out weakly when Ichigo’s hips pulled back slowly, and stars burst behind his eyes when he thrusted back in. “Haahh! Ich-Ichigo! Ahngh, f*ck!”

“You feel fantastic, Grimm,” Ichigo whispered with a smile, “You’re so tight for me.” The ginger started a steady pace.

“Ah! F-faster! M-more!” Grimmjow gasped. His legs locked behind Ichigo’s back and his heels dug into his spine, pushing him deeper. “Please.”

“f*ck. I never thought you’d be like this. Begging for me. Clinging to me,” Ichigo nipped at his ear, “Moaning as my co*ck stretches you. Wanting me deeper.”

Each thrust enticed a string of noises from Grimmjow’s throat. Some were moans, others whines or whimpers, and a few intelligible words were curses—the languages they were spoken in fluctuated depending on the force that pushed them out. Grimmjow wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel it, Ichigo’s foreskin rubbing against the walls inside him, but he did. It was fantastic. Lewd and sexy. Added extra friction. It made Grimmjow curious of how that co*ck would feel in his throat. A sharp thrust pierced him deeply and Grimmjow gasped, pulling Ichigo closer as he shook.

“f*ck I love the sounds you make. You’re so noisy compared to when you top. You sound desperate and needy. Is that it? You’ve been wanting my co*ck inside you? f*cking you deep and rough.” Another harsh thrust and Grimmjow cried out again. Ichigo’s lips brushed his ear. “Eager for me to take your virginity.”

Grimmjow’s body seized and his co*ck jumped. Oh f*ck. That’s exactly what this was. Ichigo was the first to do this to him. Why did that make this hotter? “Ich...Ichigo, h-harder. f*ck me. Ruin me,” Grimmjow whispered, holding him closer, “Take me.”

Ichigo snarled in his ear and did as told, snapping his hips roughly and increasing his pace. Yes. Yes. Yes! Grimmjow couldn’t shut himself up. He didn’t bother trying. It felt too damn good to care. Ichigo was a beast. Each thrust was harder and faster than the one before it. The hot breath panting on his neck shot electric shivers throughout his body and made it that much more difficult, and necessary, for Grimmjow to hang onto the man above him. He could feel precum oozing out of his co*ck and dribbling on his skin. He could feel sweat mixing between their bodies; orange hair clinging to both of them. The erotic words spilling from Ichigo’s tongue worsened with each noise that escaped Grimmjow’s throat. It was amazing, but not enough. Something was missing. Something that would make it impossible for him to stop screaming—and then Ichigo hit it. The head of his co*ck rammed Grimmjow’s prostate head on and repeated the action over and over and over again until Grimmjow was left begging, screaming for more. There was so much pleasure racing through his body that he jerked with every touch, every breath, every word on Ichigo’s tongue. Grimmjow was losing himself. He never thought he would enjoy it.

Callused fingers brushed over the scratches running down his chest and Ichigo snarled possessively. Nails clawed his hips and Grimmjow gasped. Ichigo’s thrusts turned short and shallow. “Ogihci did this to you, didn’t he?” Ichigo hissed. Grimmjow parted his lips to reply but was interrupted by his own moan. “You don’t belong to him, Grimmjow. You’re mine.”

f*ck. His prostate was struck again and Grimmjow scratched Ichigo’s shoulder. His. He belonged to Kurosaki. sh*t. He didn’t have the energy to tell Ichigo it wasn’t what he thought it was. Nor to be frightened of such a concept. He was Kurosaki’s. He didn’t know what the hell he was to him, but he didn’t give a sh*t. He wanted Ichigo to claim him. “Y-yours,” Grimmjow panted, “All yours.”

“Good,” Ichigo growled, “Don’t let him touch you ever again.”

His lips were captured in a kiss and Grimmjow didn’t dare fight back. He opened his mouth wide and groaned as Ichigo’s tongue searched him. The ginger’s tongue f*cked his mouth as roughly as his co*ck f*cked his ass, so torn between the two that he hadn’t noticed the callused hand slipping down his body.

“Ichigo. Ichigo. Ichigo.” Grimmjow moaned his name with each thrust and hugged him. How long had they been apart? A week? Maybe more? Too long. His body was starving for his touch. Craving to feel the man’s body against his. He never wanted to let him go ever again. Ichigo.

Callused fingertips stroked supple flesh and Grimmjow’s breath caught. Four fingers rubbed charcoal skin, massaging it as a thumb traced the edge of the hole in his stomach. Ichigo was touching his Hollow hole.

“f*ck! Hah! Ngh—Ichigo! Fu—! Aahh! Wh-what’re you…f*ck.” Grimmjow’s eyes rolled back again as he shook violently under his touch.

He couldn’t control himself. His body jerked and thrashed under Ichigo with each pass of rough fingers on sensitive skin. Lightning burned the nerves in his body and drool spilled from his lips. Hard thrusts pushed him into Ichigo’s strong hand and knocked the air from his lungs. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth and dripped down the side of his face, tracing and dancing between the sharp teeth of his mask. When Ichigo’s fingers curled and scratched his blackened skin, Grimmjow screamed. A dry org*sm crashed through his body and left him shaking in Ichigo’s arms as his co*ck jumped, oozing pre like a waterfall.

“Gorgeous. Look at all that precum,” Ichigo purred. His thumb pressed hard on the edge of the hole and traced it over and over again. He watched Grimmjow shake with each pass. “You love it when I touch you, don’t you?”

Yes. He tried to say it, but he could hardly breathe. Large fingers tightened on orange locks and sank deeper into a thick, muscular shoulder. No one else. There was only Ichigo.

A cute chuckle drifted into his ear. Rough fingers curled around his co*ck and stroked him in tune with firm thrusts. Ichigo licked his lips and pressed their foreheads together. “You’re beautiful, Grimmjow. Gorgeous.” Fingers traced the jagged teeth of his mask. Ichigo looked as if he wanted to say more but he stopped himself. Smiling sadly, he tilted his head and kissed Grimmjow once more.

They groaned together. Grimmjow lifted his hips to meet Ichigo’s thrusts, whining when his prostate was bullied again. Using all of his remaining strength he held Ichigo against his body until there was no space remaining between them. A hand on his hip. Another on his thigh. Ichigo towering over him, rough and gentle simultaneously. Their kiss split with a wet gasp. Ichigo buried his face in Grimmjow’s neck, nipping and licking a pale throat, his teeth too weak to pierce armored skin. Grimmjow bit his tongue and focused. Slowly his spiritual pressure lowered until his hardened skin gave under human teeth. He moaned when those same teeth punctured his skin and a tongue greedily lapped at the faint trickle of blood, sucking and biting until the Arrancar was lightheaded. He was close. Ichigo was close, too.

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow murmured, “Come in me.”

The boy’s body tightened. Lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Grimm…, this—it’s not supposed to be about me. I want you to feel good.”

Why was Kurosaki like this? It was exasperating. Resisting pleasure was a kink of his, apparently. Grimmjow wasn’t going to let him go so easily. Without warning he clamped down on Ichigo’s co*ck, moaning as he bit the ginger’s ear and bucked his hips. “f*cking shut up and do as I tell you.”

That was all Ichigo needed.

“f*ck, Grimmjow.”

Ichigo moaned loudly in his ear as his hips bucked hard, forcing himself as deeply as he could reach inside his tight heat, and came. Holy sh*t. Grimmjow was not prepared for the flood that overtook him. Hot, burning cum spilled inside him with each pulse of Ichigo’s co*ck. Every thick spurt sank deeper, pushed the walls further apart, stretched him and stuffed him. He couldn’t breathe. Ichigo’s arms tightened around him as if to merge their bodies and weakly ground his hips, thrusting one, two, three—Grimmjow cried out as his prostate was struck for the last time and came. His whole body consumed by merciless lightning. Each muscle twitched and jerked violently as he scrambled to cling onto Ichigo. The world shook as his vision turned white. Nails sliced into Ichigo’s back and caused the ginger to bleed. Words tumbled from his drooling tongue, a lewd chant of gasps and groans and Ichigo’s name stuck on repeat. He was falling apart and, for once, he was enjoying it.

Eventually, his sight returned and his body melted into the mattress. Fingers trembled from the strength he pushed into holding onto Ichigo, but he refused to let go. They’ve had sex before—many, many times—but nothing like this. Intense desire to be one with the other and lustful of the one touching him, not the act itself. It was strange. Sex shouldn’t be like this. Not for them. Yet it was. Grimmjow swallowed hard. Ichigo f*cked him. Ichigo f*cked him—and, and, he came inside. Grimmjow clamped down on the slowly softening member inside him and whimpered. He was full. Was it even physically possible for someone to come this much?

“Haah, sh*t, Grimm, don’t do that. Give a man a break,” Ichigo panted.

Grimmjow tightened again and slowly relaxed. Ichigo groaned. The sound was quickly muffled by Grimmjow’s lips. Their kiss was sloppy and tired, full of breathless words and names as trembling, pale limbs refused to release a tanned body.

“f*ck. You’re amazing.” Ichigo ended their kiss with a chuckle and touched their foreheads together. “I can’t believe someone like you exists.”

Smiling. That’s all Grimmjow could find himself doing. Smile at Ichigo with a look in his eyes that mirrored Ichigo’s, a shine he didn’t quite understand but loved to see regardless.

The smile he adored drifted away and Ichigo gazed at him with such angst it made Grimmjow’s mask ache. He wasn’t going to enjoy this.

“Grimmjow...I-I’m sorry. How I treated you and what I was forcing you to be...I’m so sorry. I never...I never wanted to make you feel like you’re anything less than perfect. From now on, whatever you need to take care of yourself, I won’t stop you. I shouldn’t have months ago the first time you tried to eat, and I won’t stop you now. I—.”

Soft hands framed Ichigo’s feminine face as Grimmjow shushed him gently and smiled lightly. “Stop. I appreciate the apology, but I don’t need it. You didn’t intentionally hurt me. You’re not a mean spirited person, Ichigo. You made a mistake. You apologized. You changed. That’s all anyone can ask of another person.”

f*ck it looked like Ichigo was going to fall apart—but in a good way. He swore he could see tears beading on those stupidly long lashes. Was he honestly the first person to tell him that it was okay to make a mistake? Grimmjow’s eyes set in determination. He was going to be the first on more than just that.

Pale fingertips tugged on Ichigo’s jaw to draw him closer so Grimmjow could kiss his lips briefly. “I’m sorry, Ichigo,” he whispered into their broken kiss, “For what I said to you. It was cruel. I don’t...I don’t really think that way about you. I never did. I’m sorry.” Grimmjow brushed the pads of his thumbs under Ichigo’s eyes to wipe away invisible, week-old tears. “Making you cry like that has to be the worst thing I’ve ever done, and it haunts me.”

That smile. It was his everything. Even Orihime’s ability held nothing toward the healing powers of that smile. Neither of them had to say it. They could feel it while in each other’s arms. Taste it in the air. On each other’s lips as they kissed. Forgiveness. Grimmjow had never known such a thing could feel so wonderful.

Their kiss ended once more and Ichigo smiled, eyes shifting to find something to turn their attention onto. “Look at what you made me do.” Ichigo pulled back slightly and gestured with his chin at the headboard and the dark dent in the wall behind it. He smirked. “You made me ruin my wall.”

Grimmjow snickered. Arms pulled Ichigo closer and their lips brushed. “I’m about to make you ruin it some more. I’m hoping I can get you to knock down the whole damn wall.”

“Y’know,” Ichigo combed his fingers through blue hair and kissed the Arrancar softly, stroking blackened skin, “I think I can arrange that.”

Once again he was swept into a heated kiss and he kissed back with as much passion as he received. He was Ichigo’s as much as Ichigo was his. A moan seeped from his lungs as teeth and tongue teased his throat. Possessive claws hooked into scarred flesh. He never wanted to let go of this human ever again. Ichigo belonged to him. Not Goro. Not Ishida. This strange, unorthodox and incredibly flawed human belonged to the Hollow Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and he refused to have it any other way.

Chapter 52: Hands Hovering Over Your Hammering Heart

Chapter Text

Nauseatingly familiar moans crawled through thin walls and Goro’s stomach heaved. A sweating hand lifted to cradle the front of his tight throat as he swallowed. More shouts of pleasure spilled from the cracks of the door and Goro flinched. They shouldn’t have come home so soon. He hadn’t expected to come home to that, but he should have anticipated it. Teeth chewed on a pink lip. He shouldn’t have fallen for a human. Not that one. He pressed a hand to his aching heart. Why did it have to be him? Why Kurosaki? What was so appealing about him? The boy was beautiful and kind and smart, but so what? He wasn’t the only person in the world with those qualities. Blue eyes gazed at Shōkōhin, watching the Kaizō Konpaku read as if they couldn’t hear a single sound coming from the bedroom. Fingers traced the fading scar on his throat. Shōkōhin was kind. He could still feel it. The delicate fingers that dressed his wound and held his chin so sweetly. Amber eyes guarded, but unable to snuff their concern. They were smart, too. Shōkōhin had picked him apart so easily. Within a single day, they cracked him open and dissected every last atom of his being. Being read so easily by a stranger’s eyes was a frightening experience. As for beautiful...wearing the Hollow’s face or not, outer appearance didn’t mean much to him. Kaizō Konpaku aren’t attached to one form of body. They could have preferences on the sex of a body or some appearance to an extent, but for their kind, the body they wore held no significance. It was only a vessel. One that was disposable and done so fairly quickly, depending on the orders they were given. Goro never really cared for what someone looked like. Ichigo was every queer man’s wet dream, but having a pretty face didn’t mean he was worthwhile. If Ichigo’s appearance didn’t matter, then Shōkōhin’s certainly didn’t. Another moan caught him off guard and the Kaizo Konpaku flinched. He tried with all his might to bury the blush fighting to surface on pale skin. Dear lord, what were they doing to be so loud? He remembered bits and pieces of their first time. They were loud then, but this was ridiculous. He swore he could hear the headboard smacking against the wall. At least, he hoped it was the headboard. Grimmjow wouldn’t shut up either. How many times does the guy have to shout Ichigo’s name at the top of his lungs before the whole world knows they’re f*cking? Ugh. Goro shifted in his chair and made a face. His stomach flipped under his palm. This sh*t always made him queasy. They should leave. At this point, he didn’t care if he would have to sleep on the roof. He just didn’t want to hear that anymore.

“You’re so f*cking pathetic.”

Goro lifted his eyes back to Shōkōhin and blinked. Where the hell did that come from?

Shōkōhin crossed one leg over the other and set their book aside. Amber eyes glared hard at the confused man. “That ginger has been f*cking the Arrancar for how long now? And you still get jealous and think you have a chance with him? You’re the perfect example of the word pathetic. They should put you in the dictionary.”

Goro shot them a disgruntled glare. What was their problem? He hadn’t even said anything since they came home! Sure, he wasn’t a fan of hearing Jaegerjaquez and Ichigo having sex, but he wasn’t a fan of hearing anyone having sex. “What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t the Hollow be in control again?”

The Kaizō Konpaku shrugged, body tense with frustration and anger; poorly disguised by a cracking smirk. “You saw what he looked like. Dude hunts Hollows with his bare hands. That gets messy. He’s relaxing in the bath, ‘though I’m not sure how much relaxing he’s actually doing. Pretty sure he’s getting a little one on one action with himself thanks to those bucking broncos if you know what I mean.”

Goro recoiled at the imagery. Yeah. He knew exactly what that jerk meant. The Hollow screamed Ichigo’s name, the word stuck on repeat as the harsh banging on the wall continued to grow. Goro’s stomach churned. He pressed a palm to his gut in hopes of soothing it. What those two were doing was private. Why the hell was he here?

White hands braced his thighs and Goro jolted, his body suddenly flooded with overwhelming life and skin stinging from the impact. Long fingers squeezed thick muscle and fat and Goro felt a boiling wave crash through him, drowning him, and forced him to surface. Blue eyes snapped to gold. Earth and ocean clashed with uncertainty and severity.

“You need to move on. You know that, right? You’re only torturing yourself.” Shōkōhin glanced at the door and licked their lips. “Besides, I don’t think you can compete with what’s going on in there.”

Two more moans spilled through the wall and Goro flinched. He was really tired of this mother f*cker telling him what to do. “It’s none of your business and you know it. What’s your problem? Why are you so insistent on drawing my attention away from Kurosaki? Did Grimmjow convince you to f*ck with me? Why do you care so much?”

The vice grip on his thighs tightened. It was starting to ache, but Goro ignored it as he waited for an answer Shōkōhin refused to give. Goro growled under his breath and sneered. He was sick of this little game.

“Fine, don’t say anything,” his hand moved to slap the pale hand away, “Don’t f*ckin’ touch me, Shō—.”

Suspended. Muscles turned to liquid stone. It was impossible to move, but mobility was possible. He couldn’t even tremble, but the fear inside his heart was horrifyingly real. Slowly, he watched his arm slice through the thick atmosphere between them and softly nestle back on the armrest; Shōkōhin’s hand puppeteering it from above. The fear within his heart consumed Goro as realization struck him. For weeks he hadn’t been able to understand why Shōkōhin held no spiritual signature. He couldn’t read an ounce of power from their body no matter how hard he searched, and their confidence seemed so misguided, so misplaced, because of it. It was a rarity amongst their kind. The ability Shōkōhin had, the power to be so incredibly sensitive to reishi, an element found within everything, that they could manipulate the matter in any way they wished. Telekinesis. Powers such as that were spoken of as legends. Fabels. Mythology. He couldn’t believe someone with that skill was still alive.

White hands appeared on his legs once more, this time, they rested just above his knees in an attempt to be less threatening. “You’ve already realized it, haven’t you? You know he’ll never be yours.” Their voice was so hushed. So delicate. So tender and carrying a tone he couldn’t understand. “You’re pathetic, Goro. You’ll end up alone forever if you wait for someone to change their heart.”

Goro parted his lips to argue but was silenced by a surge emitting from Shōkōhin’s raised hand. His jaw clamped shut and his body seized. An invisible force shoved him back into his seat and his spine kissed the worn fabric. A knee appeared between his thighs as Shōkōhin leaned in. The gravity between their bodies grew heavy until it affected them. Lungs were sluggish to inflate. Lids lazily covered their eyes. Lips struggled to close, parted and breathing one another in.

“Why?” Goro searched honest, yet empty, eyes. “Why do you care?”

Shōkōhin searched, too. When blue irises couldn’t provide an answer, the white hand hovering over his heart pushed closer, melding his body with the furniture. “You’re so blinded by your jealousy, that you can’t even see when someone is offering to everything you desire,” they whispered.

Goro’s eyes widened. Was Shōkōhin...implying what he thought they were implying? Shōkōhin wanted to be with him? Shōkōhin wanted him? Since when? The beginning? Before he could ask the slew of questions building in his head, Shōkōhin pulled away. Their gravity shattered and Goro felt lost as the Kaizō Konpaku sighed and turned their back on him.

“Hundreds of years stuck inside a pill, and the one person I’d expect to understand the pain of sexual frustration is a f*cking loser who fell in love with a taken human,” Shōkōhin flops onto the couch and folds their arms behind their head, “But unlike you I’m going to get over it and find someone else. I don’t wanna be the guy who spends the night listening to his crush nailing someone else. I’d rather not be so pathetic.”

Goro cradled his wrist, unable to hide the vague hurt on his face, but Shōkōhin had closed his eyes. Forgotten and no longer part of their world. Goro’s eyes drifted to his wrist. Fingers curled and clenched into a loose fist, then unfurled gently. Taken. From the beginning, Goro had never thought of Ichigo that way. The man was so hyper focused on the Hollow, that all Goro had seen was the obsession Ichigo held for Grimmjow. Goro squeezed his fist again and watched the muscles shift with trained fluidity. For the longest time, he thought Grimmjow was only playing with him. That Ichigo was nothing more than a toy to use until no longer useful. Hollows can’t love. They can’t want. Hollows only craved death and destruction, not the touch of another. Goro’s thumb passed over faint blue veins. He wasn’t sure if it was from being in this body for so long, or from understanding other views due to Shōkōhin’s meddling, but he felt it. This body, Grimmjow’s body, craved something no one else could give. Ichigo, that’s what it craved. It wasn’t sex. It wasn’t affection. It was Ichigo. Just beneath the surface of this body’s skin was an indescribable desire, an overwhelming need to have Kurosaki. Whether it was love or not, Goro didn’t know. He doubted Grimmjow knew himself. Neither mattered. This body wanted one being, one living soul, and no one else's. Nails brushed across the flesh of the exposed forearm. These emotions felt ancient. They breathed, they grew, and they were in no way new. How long had Grimmjow felt this way? Since the first time he and Kurosaki met? Since he returned? Goro scratched at the unattainable emotion. Was this why he was obsessed with Ichigo? Had he been feeding off the Hollow’s emotions all this time? Kurosaki was beautiful but—Goro’s eyes lifted to Shōkōhin, watching them read with a face struggling to seem empty and uncaring. Kurosaki was beautiful and an amazing person, but he wasn’t the only one.

Chapter 53: Basorexia

Chapter Text

“What does this mean for your abilities?”

Identical in design, but different in color, two sets of the same eyes peered up at blue as Grimmjow joined two sides of a single coin at the coffee table. Ichigo and his Hollow blinked in unison, smiled together, and crossed one leg over the other as they leaned back with the same teasing air of joyful confidence.

“Bit late to ask that, isn’t it?” they jested.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes as the two gave one another a vaguely surprised glanced and grinned. They shouldn’t be surprised by that at this point. Neither of them had forgotten that they were the same being. Although, Grimmjow could admit, it was still odd to consider Ogihci to be the same wonderful being as Kurosaki. However flawed Kurosaki may be, Ogihci’s cruelty still didn’t seem to hold a place in that bleeding heart.

“I’m serious, idiots. With the two of you being separated, does that mean you’re only able to see spirits at this point? Can you fight? Is Ogihci as weak as you? We need to figure this out before we continue training—if we even can,” Grimmjow urged as he made himself comfortable in the armchair. He was still sore from yesterday. He hadn’t realized how much work went into bottoming. Going a few rounds only made the strain worse. He was shocked he could stand, to be honest.

“Way ahead of you, kitten. While you two were being dramatic, I was planning.” Ogihci broke their mirrored actions by tossing his arms on the back on the couch. That grin never seemed to falter. “King’s power depleted when I left his body, but he’s not back at square one. He still can’t conjure a sword, but since I am his sword, I think he deserves a pass on that. Nothing would help Ichigo more than training with his own zanpakutō.”

Grimmjow quirked a brow. “You’re taking over?”

“Not necessarily. Unless, if by take over you mean that I’m gonna do things my way and tell you to sit on your ass and stay out of the way, then yeah. I am taking over. Only a zanpakutō can teach his master how to wield him.” Ogihci shrugged.

Technically, he was right. Grimmjow didn’t understand the core fundamentals of Ichigo’s powers like Ogihci did. It wasn’t because of the difference between the foundations of power in a Hollow and Soul Reaper. Ichigo’s case was special. There had never been a breed like him before.

“I agree. The best training I ever received was from Zangetsu,” Ichigo nodded.

Ogihci’s grin sharpened. “Oh, my training is going to be far above and beyond what Mr. Steals My Name McFake could ever provide. This time you won’t be trained by your Quincy blood.” The dangerous glimmer in gold eyes caused Grimmjow’s heart to flutter. “You’re going to be taught by the real Zangetsu.”

~***~

It never ceased to amaze him how sensitive human skin was to the world. The softest touch of the breeze brought forth bumps along his flesh. The warm rays of the sun and the cold beams of the moon left resounding handprints upon his exposed body, leaving him naked and consumed—Nature’s way of showing her possessive love and control. Humans felt everything. It was ridiculous. Most of the time it was too much. In the beginning, when he was first born, it was hard for Goro to take it all in. One of the flaws of being a soul born of science, rather than supernatural or spiritual beliefs, is that they aren’t eased into life. Humans had a chance to grow. Eighteen full years before they were considered adults, and even then they were still expected to learn until their ultimate end. Kaizō Konpaku were adults from the moment their chrysalis pill formed. Born with the knowledge of what their creators wished, but lacking experience. It took nearly half a century before he came to realize that food is supposed to be enjoyed, not only taken as mere sustenance. Entertainment was as important as work. Relationships rested in the core of their survival. Fighting for what they believed and having their own opinions was a constant battle they were entitled to, but one that would never be ended. Art was created to be admired and inspire, not like most hieroglyphics that could be found in archeological sites—although, it had been proven that even they strayed from the path of logic and created jokes from their daily lives. Books were the most mesmerizing of them all. Hundreds of thousands of words were written for a single story, and it wasn’t done so to pass scientific breakthroughs or mathematical theories, not always. They were full of unending imagination and adventure, of knowledge and morals and love and loss. Everything a Kaizō Konpaku needed to know laid within paper walls. However, books, although lovely and impertinent to human culture, weren’t always right. Love at first sight was one of literature’s unrealistic flaws. She had told him that Ichigo was his soulmate, that the human would breathe and thrive off of Goro’s very name. Fingers brushed over a dog eared page, a nail trying to crease the paper back into place. What a joke. He was a joke for believing it. More than a joke. A total asshole.

Fine pages scratched soft flesh as the book in his grasp was ripped away. His eyes lifted in time to watch the poorly bound literature fly over a pale shoulder and plummet off the balcony to an overly dramatic death. The book wasn’t that great, but it wasn’t that bad. Goro blinked at the empty space he last caught glimpse of the novel, then transferred his gaze to amber eyes. The lurch in his chest nearly made him woozy. He wasn’t used to this feeling. It definitely wasn’t love, but it was more genuine than he had ever felt toward Kurosaki. Not an obsession, nor lust, but a crush. A harmless little emotion that could become more through time. Despite the wild beat in his chest, he instinctively found himself scowling at the person before him.

“Your attempts at flirting with me have become desperate and laughable,” Goro remarked and crossed his arms over his chest, as if to hold his heart back. “You know that wasn’t my book, right? It belongs to Ichigo.”

“Talking about Kurosaki again? How many times do you need to hear that ginger nail Jaegerjaquez to the wall before you understand he isn’t interested?” Shōkōhin shrugged. “That book is boring anyways. I read it when it first came out and I wasn’t impressed. Also, flirting with you is worthless. It’s like humping a wall.”

Sheesh. Shōkōhin had been progressively getting aggressive the past few days, especially yesterday, when Goro experienced their powers for the first time. Goosebumps engulfed his body at the memory. The surge of Shōkōhin’s powers. The haunting pink glow in their eyes. The invisible hands roaming across his body, holding him down. He shivered, spine tingling from the thrill embedded in the past. Who was Shōkōhin?

“If you’re not flirting, then why did you throw my book?” Goro asked.

A stiff shrug, arms cross and mirrored. “Boredom.”

The man lifted a brow. That was a flimsy lie. One that worked in his favor. Goro settled on the concrete guardrails and pressed his back to the inconspicuous brick building. “Well, you get to entertain me now. I ain’t goin’ back in there with those two flirtin’ up a storm and the Hollow shootin’ me dirty looks. Tell me ‘bout yerself.”

White eyebrows lifted to a white hairline. They furrowed again as Shōkōhin tsked. “Not so fast. I’m going to ask the questions first, country boy. What’s with the accent? You’ve let it slip from time to time. Why are you hiding it?”

“Eh, there’s not much to tell about that.” Goro made himself comfortable, prepared to be honest. “I was born in the 1800s and assigned to work in America. In the late 19th century, the ideal of cowboys became popular and romanticized by English settlers. It was the perfect cover for my brother and I. We could travel without seeming out of place, and if we left in the middle of the night, no one would care. My brother, Goro, was initially created to live amongst the Japanese, but somehow got mixed up in my shipment. Until he learned English, I spoke for the both of us. The accent was preprogrammed into my voice, but as time went on, the human race evolved. How they spoke changed. I adapted by shielding it so as not to seem out of place, but occasionally it slips through. Also, speakin’ American, redneck country ain’t easy to do while speakin’ Japanese.” Goro stared at his thighs and blinked. “Wow. It’s sad that my life can be summed up so quickly.”

“You forgot the details. Why were you deployed to America? How large was your group? Why did you claim Goro and not let someone else do it?” Shōkōhin listed.

Goro sighed. He didn’t remember half of that. “It was a group of fifteen. We lost three within the first week, then six by the end of the month. The rest of us survived. We were deployed to America because of the high density of Hollows. The English were brutal to the indigenous tribes already living on that land. They spread sickness. Slaughtered relentlessly. Desecrated sacred lands. Hunted their most prized source for their way of life to near extinction. Lied. Stole. The list goes on. It takes a while for Hollows to form, so—in a not so shocking turn of events—in a few centuries America is crawling with Hollows, thriving on their lust for revenge. Apparently, Soul Reapers had been avoiding that area because of rumors and reports of incredibly powerful Hollow activity and feared of adjuchas. Hence, we were deployed. Our lives weren’t a risk in their eyes. As for Goro, my brother...well, there were a lot of reasons.” He picked at dead skin peeling around his nails. “I was the only bilingual among the group. I speak both English and Japanese. I felt like, out of the entire crew, he and I were the most closely related. I think he felt the same way. He always treated me like I was a little brother, despite me teaching him how to speak English. Our powers were even the same. Although, he was a lot stronger than me. Impossibly strong. It didn’t take long for him to be a highly recognized member of our kind. He was amazing. Funny, ambitious, tough and a major flirt. Everyone loved him. I loved him. It was hard not to.” Goro’s smile at the past drifted away and a sad shine twinkled in his eyes.

Shōkōhin’s tense shoulders loosened, his stance softened. “What happened to him?”

At first, he thought he had wasted his breath. But eventually, Goro rubbed his neck and took a steadying breath. “He got co*cky. Thought he could take on a pack of Hollows by himself. If he had been a seated officer, maybe, but he was only a Kaizō Konpaku. They crushed his body and his pill with it. Hollows don’t like to eat us, y’know? We’re synthetic Souls. It’s like eating vegan meat to them.”

“And you’re not co*cky?” It wasn’t a mean spirited question. This was a different side of Goro. The real Goro, Shōkōhin suspected.

A light shake of his head. “Not really, no. I’m a dumbass, but I’m not co*cky.” Goro laughed softly. “I know I’m the second weakest person in the apartment, and that’s only because Ichigo is powerless. When he merges with Ogihci again, he’ll be ten times more powerful than me.” Blue eyes caught the disheartened look upon Shōkōhin’s face and the man laughed, smiling brightly in reassurance. “Doesn’t mean I don’t try, though. Even if they’re stronger than me, I still fight if I have to. I won’t win, but I can make a difference. It’s not much, but it’s what I can do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Goro blinked at Shōkōhin, shocked to see something other than anger or sarcasm. Concern. Legitimate concern. The same gentle eyes he had seen when caring hands bandaged his cut throat. “About what?”

“Your brother.” Fingers locked together in a shy tangle. Amber eyes lowered. “I’ve never really had a family. It was by choice. I knew I would outlive any human, but still. Losing someone you’re close to hurts. I’m sorry you went through that.”

He smiled. It was easy. Impulsive. There was a compulsive need to smile around them. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The faintest flush brightened Shōkōhin’s cheeks as they avoided Goro’s gentle gaze. He hadn’t seen Shōkōhin this soft before for this long. They were a thoughtful and caring person, but this was different. This was vulnerability. Bones bared and ready to be analyzed down to the last atom. It was his opportunity to get some answers.

“So, what about you?” Goro asked. His legs dropped as he swung his body to face Shōkōhin, resting his hands on the railing to keep himself steady. “I don’t know anything about you aside from your name. What’s with the accent? Where were you stationed?”

That vulnerability was limited. A flicker of resistance intervened in those honest eyes while Shōkōhin shifted from one foot to the other, pushing his hands into his cargo shorts and shrugging bare shoulders. “Not much to tell. I was created and placed in what is now South America. Wasn’t deployed for any specific reason. With no actual objective or enemy, there wasn’t a reason for me to have partners like you. I lived among the people, tried not to stand out, and spoke their language. That’s it.”

“You forgot the details,” Goro mocked with a humorous, crooked grin. “Your accent is Quechua, and while it’s still popular today, it’s mostly known for being the official language of the Inca Empire. That empire was conquered by the Spanish in the late 1500s. Factoring in the extremely rare, extremely powerful ability you have...just how old are you, Shōkōhin?”

A short and disgruntled huff left Shōkōhin’s lips. “You’re smarter than you seem.”

Goro shrugged. “That’s kinda the point. Answer the question. I want the truth.”

Piercing eyes studied his, but Goro didn’t back down, nor did he challenge them. Eventually, Shōkōhin’s shoulders were thrown back and their spine straightened.

“Alright, fine. I was born in the beginning of the fifteenth century, one of the first Kaizō Konpaku to be created. I was placed in the capital city of Cusco with the ruling class. I became somewhat of a god among the people due to my abilities, which, while I was young, I didn’t conceal as carefully as I should have, and because my Gigai didn’t age. I was there for the rise and fall of the empire.” Shōkōhin stared off into the distance. “And the root cause for their demise.”

One of the first Kaizō Konpaku to be birthed. A prototype. The prototype. Their generation was stronger than any other. Their power was immense and limitless, enough to rival that of a captain’s. They were legends, what he and others aspired to be and looked up to. He couldn’t believe someone of that generation was still alive. They were the first to be targeted by Soul Reapers when they were deemed useless and undesirable and for good reason. They were in a class of their own.

“Why do you say that? I doubt you would harm anyone intentionally. You’re not blaming yourself for the Spanish invasion, are you? You can’t be expected to save everyone,” Goro argued.

“That’s not it. Who I am now and who I was then are vastly different. I didn’t try to save anyone. Not until it was too late.” Shōkōhin scratched their pale arm. Shifted from one foot to the other and back again. “I was a brat, Goro. I was young and co*cky, proud of myself for existing. I had achieved nothing and yet I felt superior. I was...a child. Mentally, I was made advanced, but nonetheless I was new to the world. No friends. No family. No lover. Even if I wanted them, I wouldn’t know how to approach them. There were...a few who tried, and I ignored them. Eventually, I started to care, but it was too late. The Inca Empire was overthrown by Francisco Pizarro who lead Spanish conquistadors through my home. It took time for Pizarro and his men to overthrow the empire and the last settlement wasn’t conquered until 1572, but he succeeded because of me. I didn’t care, Goro. I didn’t care about those people and they died and suffered because of me. How many lives were lost because of me, how many of those Souls transformed into Hollows, I’ll never know. But I’m responsible for it. I didn’t care until the only people who gave a sh*t about me died protecting me...as if I was worth their lives...as if I were a human, like them.” Shōkōhin squeezed their eyes shut and took a steadying breath, and forced themself to relax. “I could have completely changed the outcome of that invasion.”

This was the first time he had seen Shōkōhin like this. Torn up and ashamed, wanting to fall apart but feeling undeserving of such an act. They always seemed so...unshakable. A force that could never be rivaled. To see them so vulnerable was odd, and the honesty was appalling. Not the story itself, but the raw emotion behind it. Centuries had passed and yet Shōkōhin acted as if it happened only a few years ago. An open wound that never healed.

“Shōkōhin.”

Pained eyes lowered and pale shoulders hunched.

“Shōkōhin.” He waited until those eyes met his. “Prototype or not, built with maturity or not, you still had to grow. You’re strong, unbelievably so, and I’m sure you always were...but you have limitations. The strength you have now couldn’t be the same as hundreds of years ago. There’s no way you could have stopped the Spanish invasion all by yourself even if you did care. Don’t be so eager to blame yourself for the faults of the world.”

Tense tendons relaxed and released. Amber eyes lightened and lifted, a smile grazing faintly greyed lips. “Who the f*ck are you? Since when are you the nice guy?”

Goro chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. They were right. “When I lost my brother, soon after our entire species was to be executed. I never thought I would inhabit a body again. I festered and brooded in that blasted pill with nothing but dark and thundering thoughts. It changed me. When I was placed in Grimmjow’s Gigai, in this body...it was like being reborn. A second chance to be someone different. Someone who could survive on their own. Someone who should have another chance at living.”

“Are you saying you’ve been impersonating your brother?” Shōkōhin asked, dubious at the suggestion.

“Not exactly. Not fully. He was quick to anger, and I never used to respond with a temper. He was confident where I always doubted myself. We were both blunt, but over different things and for different reasons. He was possessive of things he wanted or saw as his, ever the charmer, while I...I was a wallflower.”

Shōkōhin lifted a brow. “You’re an asshole because your brother was an asshole?”

Goro chuckled softly and shook his head. “No. I idolized my brother—and I probably shouldn’t have—but he never acted the way I did. Goro didn’t fall in love with people or become obsessed with them. The way I acted toward Ichigo—.” Shōkōhin visibly hardened their stance and Goro smiled to himself, amused. “Those feelings were instantaneous the moment I met him, and they only grew stronger every time I saw that face.”

“Not this bullsh*t again,” Shōkōhin spat, “You’re beginning to bore me.”

They were so unshakable. A being with no weakness, but with only a few words, Goro could spur an angered response so easily. It was interesting, if not very telling about Shōkōhin’s thoughts toward him. They wore envious anger so cutely, too.

“I ain’t sayin’ they were my feelings, dumbass.” Goro took the look of surprise in stride and slipped off the railing to stand before the Kaizō Konpaku with a gentle grin. “My feelings for Kurosaki developed in this Gigai. Jealousy. Lust. Love. All of it.” A large hand patted a scarred chest. “They increased every time I wore this flesh. I had never inhabited a body that wasn’t solely mine. I was used to claiming everything within it as my own. But this body isn’t mine. It was my mistake to think that what I felt in this body was mine to begin with.”

Amber eyes blinked as the pieces fell into place, widened in realization. “You mean….”

They both turned their gaze to the the three inside. Human and Hollow sat so close. They shared the same air. The same smile. The same knowing glances as sly, suggestive words slipped from their playfully seductive tongues. Ichigo looked peaceful. Happy and thrilled to be within Grimmjow’s good graces again, as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. Grimmjow looked at Ichigo the same way he had before. Admiration and adoration shining in brilliant blue eyes just for Ichigo, and Ichigo only. Unconsciously following Ichigo’s every movement. His body trying to keep the space between them to a minimum, his mind not understanding the strangeness of his actions.

“Grimmjow has feelings for Ichigo. Whether those feelings are obsessive or loving, I’m not sure, but they’re there. They’re undeniable.” Goro squeezed his hand into a soft fist before unfurling the fingers and gazing at alien skin. “He doesn’t understand it. I doubt he even knows he has them, but he will. Eventually. I dunno, dude ain’t the best at interpreting his own emotions, but who is?”

“So, you don’t like Kurosaki?” Shōkōhin asked slow and timidly.

Goro would’ve labeled it as shyness if they weren’t talking about Shōkōhin. “Nope. Ain’t got a lick of infatuation with ‘im,” Goro drawled, letting his accent slip. The blush he got in return made his cheeks hurt from how hard he was smiling.

“That’s good.” Shōkōhin squeaked his reply, a deer caught in headlights. It was cute and gave Goro and overwhelming need to tease him, but he reserved the urge for later.

With ease and confidence he certainly didn’t feel, Goro reached out to cup Shōkōhin’s cheek, stroking grey freckles with his thumb, before sliding thick fingers down to take hold of a white chin. He bound Shōkōhin’s head in place with a sturdy hold to make sure amber eyes met his. He wanted the truth. He wasn’t going to give Shōkōhin any room to lie or dismiss his words.

“I’ve told you why I call myself Goro. Now tell me,” blue eyes hardened with a serious edge, “Why did you name yourself Shōkōhin?”

That was a question Shōkōhin never wanted to be asked. Goro could see the resistance and reluctance in their eyes. They swallowed slowly. Bided their time with uneasy fidgeting. Then, finally, chose to be honest. “It’s what I am, Goro. There’s no need for me to have a name. Our kind...we’re tools to be used in war. Foot soldiers meant to waste the enemy’s ammo. I never saw the reason to have a real name. And I wasn’t exactly useful for humans, either.”

That hurt. f*ck that really hurt. To hear anyone talk about themself like that was painful, but to hear Shōkōhin speak of themself in such a way...it was excruciating.

Two large hands framed Shōkōhin’s face as if he were a prized jewel and Goro pulled them closer. There was barely a breath of air between them. Shōkōhin could see every last detail of Goro’s honest and caring eyes. They could feel Goro’s sweet breath brushing his lips. Even though they yearned for this, their heart still bruised their sternum when a thumb traced the soft curve of their lower lip.

“Shō...in no way, in no reality or universe, could you ever be expendable. I need you to understand this,” Goro insisted, “You have to understand this. No matter what our intended purpose was, you never have been and never will be, expendable. Do you understand me?”

Shōkōhin swallowed and cleared their throat. “Y-yeah. I understand.”

A creased brow furrowed further as blue eyes studied amber. Goro shook his head slightly and shifted a little closer, leaving the Kaizō Konpaku chest to chest. He whispered, “I don’t think you do.”

Lips connected in a newborn kiss, chast and brief but full of words neither could manage to form on their tongues. A simple action sparking something new, something neither of them had before, filling their souls with a quality of life they never expected to have. Then a second kiss deepened everything. Goro tilted his head and kissed Shōkōhin again. Longer than the first and carrying more weight, just enough importance to knock Shōkōhin from his stupor and react. Relief fluttered in Goro’s chest when lips pressed back, the two sharing a skilled kiss as the world around them faded, outshined by the one in their arms. Shaking breaths escaped Goro’s lips as they kissed again and again, falling submissive as Shōkōhin took control. Large hands slipped down to a lean waist as white fingers combed through unruly hair and fisted handfuls of the wild locks. Piercings scraped Goro’s chin as teeth bit and tugged on his bottom lip and he submitted immediately. It was stupid to think of it as Shōkōhin’s taste since the body they wore wasn’t their own, but when a tongue snaked into his mouth and teased his, he found himself moaning at the sweetness on their breath. Weightless drowning. That’s what it felt like. Each pass of Shōkōhin’s skilled tongue freed a groan from Goro’s throat, which released a guttural growl from Shōkōhin’s chest. Hands yanked hard on his hair and steered his head for Shōkōhin to kiss ravenously and push their tongue deeper, deeper, deeper. It felt like they were going to f*ck his throat with their tongue alone, and he loved the thought. Names passed between them, showing their passion through needy whispers and eager sounds. Goro could feel his knees begin to weaken. Shōkōhin overpowered him with relentless tenacity and left him feeling devoured and savored. A feeling he had never felt before. Minutes, seconds, or hours, Goro wasn’t sure how long it took before they separated with a wet kiss to breathe. They held each other close as they panted, taking in what they had done to one another, and blushing at the results. Plump, swollen, and bitten lips. A light string of saliva connecting them still. Clothes suggestively wrinkled. Hair incriminatingly messy. Possessive hands in Goro’s hair and eager hands touching bare skin under Shōkōhin’s shirt. And, if Goro were to be honest with himself, he was definitely starting to get hard. The bare beginnings of an erection straining against the heavy material of his jeans.

Unfortunately, it came to an end. They split apart with coughs and apologies. Avoiding each other’s eyes they tugged and shifted their clothes back into place and fixed their hair. Grooming finished, they were left with reality.

They kissed.

They kissed.

Goro hadn’t kissed anyone in decades. Not like that, anyways. Then again, it never felt like that in the first place. This was new. Different. Terrifying.

“Um, ah, I sh-should go get that book back. Ichigo might want it. It’s his after all,” Goro stammered. He scrambled blindly for the fire escape, unable to break his eyes away from Shōkōhin. He couldn’t find it by touch and eventually gave up, choosing instead to climb over the railing.

“Goro, wait!”

A white hand reached out to touch his, and his anxiety got the best of him. He ripped his hand back and wasn’t given enough time to scream before he fell way too many stories down before hitting the ground with a groan. If he had been human, he would’ve been dead. Instead, he merely had a headache and left a cartoony dent of his body in the sidewalk.

A head full of white hair and amber eyes peered over the balcony. “Goro? Are you okay?”

Dear lord. This is not how he wanted their first kiss to end. “Yeah. Just bruised my pride a bit.”

“I didn’t know you had pride to begin with.” Goro made a face. A sheepish reply followed. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“S’fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Um, not to make it worse, but you realize I could’ve used my powers, right?”

“...I realize that now.”

“Hey, Goro?”

“Yeah?”

He could hear the smile in their voice. Honest and caring. Happy. “You’re a great kisser, for a cowboy.”

Goro chuckled and smiled back. “You’re pretty decent too, for a few centuries old con-god.”

Chapter 54: Talk It Out

Chapter Text

A breathing play. A living poem. A lovely song with a beating heart. That is how Ichigo and Ogihci trained. They matched step for step, jab for jab. The way they trained was akin to a dancer performing for themself with their reflection. They were never out of sync. Sometimes, Ogihci would hit harder, but Ichigo always retaliated with the same energy. Grimmjow could only imagine how beautiful it would be if they were equal in power. For weeks he watched their dance. It had almost become a ritual. It was the same every time. They taunted. They smiled. They enjoyed their battle. They enjoyed being alive. Being as close as they could to one body and one mind.

However, nothing had changed. Weeks had come and gone, but Ichigo was still where he was the day they separated. There was no improvement. Ichigo was trapped in another rut. Grimmjow had a feeling Ogihci wasn’t used to his master struggling to gain power. Unlike other days, Ogihci wasn’t smiling, nor friendly. The Hollow was silent and serious, wearing a face so cold and cut off from the world that Grimmjow felt uneasy at the sight of it. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Ichigo seemed oblivious to it, and Grimmjow hoped that was a sign he was merely complicating the situation in his head. All he could do was stand on the sidelines and watch with wary eyes as they moved into position.

As it had been done weeks ago, Ogihci clawed his fingers and a brilliant light glowed in his palm. The light swelled with a deep breath and extended, shaping itself into a sword that had never been seen by the world. Ogihci held the sword in an eased grasp. Fingers curled around the alien hilt. Like the last shikai Kurosaki bore, this blade had no guard or grip, but unlike the other, it was a startling white from tip to toe. The hilt was long with a slice missing from the center, mimicking the blade with a dipped top and a large gap in the center. The zanpakutō was still the same alarming length as Ichigo’s height, wide like a chef’s knife, and carried the same scent of power. The color was strange for Kurosaki, but Grimmjow suspected it was due to Ogihci’s influence. The pulses of power emitting from the blade still made every muscle in his body lurch and vibrate, eager to battle the power that scarred his skin.

“You have to get stronger, King,” Ogihci began and readied his blade, “Or else I’m gonna cut you down.”

Ichigo nodded and widened his defensive stance. The nameless sword in his grasp seemed useless and pathetic in comparison. Kurosaki, however, never appeared weak to the Arrancar. Ogihci was always the first to attack, and Ichigo was always second to retaliate. Their skills in battle were evenly matched. They moved in unison. Shared the same techniques. It’s why Grimmjow could only see it as a dance. It seemed practiced and easy when it wasn’t. Ichigo lost his breath only a few minutes in and his skin became slick with sweat, where Ogihci never tired and never showed exhaustion. It was concerning to say in the least. Grimmjow shifted from one foot to the other as his arms crossed. Ichigo still had his skills, but he couldn’t match Ogihci’s ferocity.

A snarl burst from colorless lips as Ogihci brought his sword down with a violent swing and Grimmjow held his breath. Ichigo managed to block the blow, sparing his skin, but the strength of the attack sent him flying back in a cloud of dust. Grimmjow waited in anticipation, tapping his fingers on his arm, for the sand to settle. Orange hair cut through the cloud and Ichigo slowly became visible. He was still standing—and in one piece. An amazing feat against someone of Ogihci’s caliber.

Brown eyes caught sight of Grimmjow and Ichigo smirked confidently. A blush stained Grimmjow’s cheeks as he smiled back shyly—only for the smile to be ripped away in horror as a white blade pierced Ichigo’s stomach, crushing bones with sickening snaps and slicing flesh with revolting tears. Ichigo screamed and his hands lashed out to claw at Ogihci’s wrist as if to stop him from running the blade completely through him. He couldn’t.

Ogihci sneered at the sound and pitiful efforts and sank the blade deeper. “Stop f*ckin’ around! I told you to get stronger! So do it!”

A whimper escaped Ichigo as blood poured from his panting mouth. Nails scratched white skin in earnest. “I’m trying, Ogi. I really am.”

“No you aren’t!” The Hollow jerked his wrist up, tilting the blade down and forcing Ichigo to bend with it. Ichigo’s knees gave out with a weak cry and Ogihci wedged the sword deep into the hard earth, pinning the ginger on his back. “You’re holding back! Stop dragging your feet and fight! You aren’t this weak!”

“Ogihci, that’s enough!” Grimmjow touched Pantera subconsciously. “You’ll kill him!”

The Hollow’s scowl darkened. “You need to shut your f*cking mouth, Jaegerjaquez! You’re holding back too! You two have become comfortable. Neither of you are trying to succeed the other! You lost sight of why we’re even doing this!”

“Ogihci,” Ichigo clawed at the smooth surface of the zanpakutō, looking at his Hollow with impossible softness in his eyes, “I can’t force my powers to come back. As much as I wish I could.”

Panic overwhelmed Ogihci’s lean frame and mixed dangerously with his anger. “You have to! If you don’t get stronger I can’t merge with you again! I can’t go back until you get stronger! I can’t stay here!”

Time and space shifted as Grimmjow appeared between the two, wasting no time to co*ck his fist back and deck Ogihci. The Hollow’s neck cracked from the force and he snarled, guttural and inhuman. Grimmjow snarled back, baring his teeth and letting the sound resonate in his chest as he tackled the Hollow to the ground. Pale hands wrapped tightly around a white neck in an attempt to keep Ogihci still. Blue eyes glowing and Pantera howling.

“Have you considered that killing Kurosaki isn’t going to help the goddamn situation either!” Grimmjow spat.

Ogihci growled and bared his teeth, too. “I’m not killing him! I stabbed him with myself, you dumbass! We’ve done it before! I can’t harm my own f*cking master! I’m not a normal zanpakutō!”

Blue reiatsu swallowed Grimmjow’s body. “He’s bleeding.”

Red flames poured from Ogihci’s veins. “He’s fine!”

“In what world is being stabbed fine!”

Knuckles popped Grimmjow’s jaw with a solid punch and their positions flipped in a dizzying whirl. Ichigo groaned as the sword was ripped from his body and the bloody edge placed against Grimmjow’s throat. “I’m Ichigo’s power source. I’m the center, the very core of his entire being. I’m the one who kept him from dying all these years and you think I would kill him? His wounds are healing as I speak!”

Grimmjow turned his eyes to Ichigo. The human sluggishly pushed his tired body into a seated position and lifted the edge of his shirt. The massive gash in his guts slowly melded without aid, shrinking until it closed and vanished. The Arrancar sighed in relief and his body eased. Kurosaki was okay.

“I was trying to wake him up. To wake both of you. You need to take training seriously again,” Ogihci explained.

Grimmjow scowled. “I’ve always—.”

“Shut up! Lie all you want, deny everything that’s been happening between you two, I don’t care!” Ichigo blushed and Grimmjow’s brow furrowed. Ogihci took a calming breath and lowered his voice. “But be reasonable. You know you aren’t training enough. You’re barely even going through the motions. Ever since I left Ichigo’s body his reiatsu has been falling and neither of you noticed.”

A subconscious tanned hand clutched at a torn shirt and brown eyes dropped.

“I had hoped that while training against me that would change, but it hasn’t. So, I took a direct approach. I intended to discuss the method of transferring my abilities and spiritual pressure into King bit by bit by cutting him,” Ogi glared at the two and his eye twitched, “But you two pissed me off so much that I had to beat the sh*t out of you.”

Grimmjow scoffed. “You didn’t beat the sh*t out of me.”

Gold eyes glowed in warning. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

The two glared at one another, lost in their anger. Ichigo brushed callused fingers over freshly rejuvenated flesh in thought. He frowned. “Ogi...you’re not trying to build up my spiritual pressure, are you?” The Hollows pause and turn their gaze to him. Ichigo licked his lips and continued. “That isn’t how spiritual pressure works. If you wanted to give me your power you would have to pass your blade through a certain point, where Rukia had when we first met, but you didn’t try to stab me there. Besides, lending a small amount of power would be useless. I would use it up and go right back to where I was.” Brown eyes searched guarded gold. “You were trying to go back. To see if I could handle it.”

Grimmjow blinked. He stared at the Hollow above him. Ogihci wouldn’t even meet his eyes. “Wait, you can go back? Just like that?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that easy. In theory, I should be able to merge with King, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason I needed to leave him. Ichigo isn’t strong enough. My power and spiritual pressure far surpass his own. If I went back now, I would kill him. You saw what happened the day we were separated. If I had stayed any longer, I would have ended up consuming him. I was already affecting his appearance. After that it was only a matter of time before his body would be mine and Ichigo would be gone.”

Ichigo’s face brightened in understanding. “Uryū’s arrow. That day, when I got injured, that triggered your response. You’ve always been like a built-in defense mechanism. Whenever I was seriously wounded or on the brink of death you would take over and heal me.”

Ogihci nodded. “But you, while unable to control me, were always able to fight back. This time, that wasn’t the case. You were human. You didn’t stand a chance. That’s why I told you to order Grimmjow to tear me out.”

Huh. He hadn’t realized that tearing out the heart was Ogihci’s idea.

“Ogi...why do you want to get back so badly? You aren’t going to die if you don’t inhabit my body, right?” Bless Ichigo. The boy actually looked concerned about his Hollow’s wellbeing. Not many humans, if any, would feel the same way.

“I’m technically a parasitic Hollow, but no, I won’t,” Ogihci turned his eyes away, timid, “It’s not out of self preservation.”

“It’s out of desire.”

Gold and brown stared at him as Grimmjow sat up on his elbows, smiling softly. “You hate being separated. That’s why you’ve been so uncomfortable wearing a Gigai.”

Ogihci flushed a deep blue. “I don’t like bein’ in my own body. It...doesn’t feel right.” His blush faded and his brow furrowed. “I liked fueling his power. I liked being the secret weapon that put him above any normal Soul Reaper or Arrancar. He was amazing. Something no one had ever seen before. He was a god.”

Ichigo’s face softened. “Ogi—.”

“You were! Then you go and sacrifice your powers to do what? Save your friends? The world? Why did you have to be the one to do that? What are those f*cking Soul Reapers for if they don’t sacrifice their lives and their powers to save the day? It was you who lost everything!” Ogihci’s burning anger faded, becoming somber. “And it was me who was left alone in darkness for five years, wondering if you would ever hear my voice again.”

Silence. Long, awkward silence. They all knew where they each stood on that subject. Ichigo would defend his friends and companions until the day he died, forgiving them every time they f*cked him over. Grimmjow found it unfair and odd that Kurosaki’s friends treated him the same as his enemies. He wasn’t completely sure of what Ogihci wanted, but it seemed impossible for him to want anything other than bloodshed. No one would budge on their opinion.

Grimmjow cleared his throat, then smirked. “That’s pretty soft for a parasitic Hollow.”

A gold eye twitched and Ogihci lifted his sword threateningly. Grimmjow grinned.

“They’re your friends too, Ogi. You know that,” Ichigo said.

“No. They aren’t. They love you, King, not me. I’ve seen the look of horror on Orihime’s face more than enough to know that,” Ogihci replied with a snort.

Ichigo smiled, kind and loving. “Uryū? I know you’ve heard what he’s said about you, before and after I lost you. Are you going to deny him, too?”

Another slow blue blush crept along Ohihci’s face and avoided their eyes. “That idiot doesn’t count,” he grumbled.

Grimmjow’s brow arched. Ogihci had a soft spot for the Quincy? Uryū had something nice to say about a Hollow? What the f*ck was going on? Why was that bitch mean to him if he apparently doesn’t have any problems with Hollows? That f*ckin’ Quincy got on his nerves.

“Ogi.”

Tan hands framed a pale face and forced the Hollow to look at Ichigo. That same gentle smile brightened his face. Grimmjow couldn’t help but sigh at the sight. Dear lord. The f*ck was happening to him?

“You should’ve just told me how you felt. You know I would help you any way I could,” Ichigo said, thumb passing over his cheek.

Ogihci huffed and grumbled. “I know.”

“I owe you a lot, Ogi. I’d do anything to repay you.” That damn smile wasn’t going anywhere. f*ck, that did weird sh*t to his mask.

“Dumbass. I didn’t do it for you,” Ogihci grumbled. His face pushed deeper into Ichigo’s hands, his body relaxing and at peace.

Grimmjow smiled and laid back with his arms folded under his head. “You’re a sh*tty liar, just like Kurosaki.”

~***~

“Hah! f*ck. Sh-Shō…ngh.”

Beating hearts kissed. Chests panted in unison. Bodies pressed closer and closer.

“I f*cking love how loud you are for me. I haven’t even touched you yet and your legs are already giving out.”

Teeth sank into his neck and Goro moaned, fingers clawing at strong shoulders. The hickies and bruises would be impossible to defend, but f*ck, he really couldn’t care. Not with those hands on him.

“I-it’s n-n-not fair when...you use—haah! Use your powers!”

A hand pulled wavy hair and his breath hitched. Another pressed on the small of his back. More tugged on his hips. Merging their flesh, muscle, and bone, making it impossible for Goro to want an individual existence.

“Please. I’ve only used my powers to keep you from falling.”

f*ckin’ liar.

Goro scoffed. “And to make it feel like there are hands all over my body.”

“Pffft, like you don’t like it.”

The hands on his hips slipped lower. Goro yelped, the sound quickly followed by a moan as his ass was squeezed and his hips pushed forward to meet Shōkōhin’s in a wild buck.

“I-it’s not bad, but I’d prefer your real hands touching me,” Goro admitted as lips attacked his once more.

The hands crawling along his body snaked around him. Arms fastened around his throat and waist. Hands pried his thighs apart. Shirt wrinkled and lifted by an invisible grasp, pants coming undone as quickly as he was.

“They are my real hands, sweetheart,” Shōkōhin whispered. Their teeth chewed on Goro’s lobe, enticing a moan from his throat with a snickered chuckle following shortly after in response. “It’s not too much for you, is it?”

“N-no.” Goro released the word through tight lips, miffed at their enjoyment. Anyone would be overwhelmed by an esper using their abilities on them. No way in hell was he going to admit that he was one of them, though. “It’s not enough.”

Shōkōhin blinked. Blinding white teeth sparkled under dim light. “Should’ve just said so, sweetheart. I’ll have you feelin’ good real soon.”

Goro gasped as more hands joined in, pulling and pushing him against Shōkōhin so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. Teeth nipped at his lobe and lips pressed against his ear. He was a goner, wasn’t he?

“How do you want it, sweetheart? You want daddy to hold you down and f*ck you like an animal on the floor, or pin you against the wall and f*ck you so hard that you can’t even breathe?”

f*ck. That growling voice. Usually, it was so soft and youthful, but now it was threatening the sweetest torture. And never in a million years did Goro think he’d hook up with someone who refers to themself as “daddy” and be into it. This is it. This is how he’s gonna die, and f*ck did he ever want it.

“D-Don’ care. Jus’ need you in me,” Goro admitted in a weak whisper.

There was a pause. Then he felt lips smile against his throat.

“f*cking hell, Goro,” Shōkōhin murmured with a harsh bite to a sensitive ear, “Keep talking like that and there’s gonna be nothing left of you, sweetheart.”

Fingers slipped a button free and tugged a zipper down slowly. Goro smirked and moaned, throwing his head back as he was stroked by talented hands. “That a promise, daddy?”

Chapter 55: Self Preservation Isn't What They Want from You

Chapter Text

“Fuuuuuuck! Screw those two! How many times did they f*ck yesterday? I can’t even sit!” Grimmjow snarled as he threw his book to the floor. He would love to read, but apparently, Goro and Shōkōhin were out to destroy his body.

Ogihci cackled and sank deeper into the couch, stretching out and showing off his painless freedom. “Let them have this. Have you gone hundreds of years without sex?”

“They don’t have to f*ck like they hate each other! It’s not like Goro and I are the ones having sex! I thought these two liked each other! I have bruises on my bruises!” Grimmjow winced and pressed fingers to his spine. What did Shōkōhin do? Bend him in half? His Gigai was flexible, but he wasn’t a f*cking rubber band!

“Maybe if you and Ichigo didn’t f*ck just as much as them, it wouldn’t hurt so bad,” Ogihci offered.

Grimmjow shot the devilish grin a blank glare. “You and I both know I ain’t gonna stop f*ckin’ Kurosaki any time soon.”

“Not since you discovered you’re a bottom,” Ogihci coughed.

“That’s it! You’re dead!”

The Hollow cackled as Grimmjow lunged, the fight ending quickly as Ogihci pinned the Arrancar to the couch, straddling bruised hips.

“You really love being under a guy with a pretty face, don’t you?” Ogihci teased.

Blue eyes narrowed. “As much as you and Ichigo love sucking my—.”

A stiff, polite knock echoed through the wood of the door. Both Hollows turned their eyes to it, surprised by the interruption. Visitors were rare. The neighbors hardly ever involved themselves with Grimmjow, choosing to avoid the antisocial man when Ichigo wasn’t around. They adored the orange haired twerp, but the scary “blue eyed demon” was a public menace. Apparently. Grimmjow had thought he handled himself pretty well around humans. Except for that one time, when someone snuck up on him by accident. And the other time, when someone’s brat screamed as if they were being slaughtered. It would’ve happened, too, if Ichigo hadn’t calmed him down and introduced him to ear plugs. They mute noisy children and annoying Kaizō Konpaku. Two for two.

Wait a minute.

Grimmjow scowled. “Hang back. I’ll answer it.”

Ogihci pulled away and Grimmjow got up, cringing as his back popped. Grumbling in pain, he opened the door a small crack, leaving the chain latched in place. The absolute need to roll his eyes was so intense, it actually hurt to ignore it. Of course. Who else would it be? “Ichigo isn’t here.”

Orihime shuffled to the side as Chad shifted into his view. Yeesh. This guy was massive.

“We know. We just want to talk,” Chad replied.

Grimmjow’s scowl twisted in discomfort. “This isn’t gonna be another ‘don’t kill Kurosaki’ thing, is it? I thought we covered that already.”

A pale hand pushed on Chad’s chest, moving the mountainous man back to be replaced by a slim boy. “It’s obvious the nature of your relationship with Ichigo has changed. Our concern about your involvement with him is no longer an immediate threat.”

Grimmjow bristled and his hand squeezed the handle. “What the f*ck does that—!”

Grey eyes and a gentle face blocked the Quincy from his view. “We’re here to speak to Mr. Ogihci,” Orihime said.

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. Unconsciously he shifted, blocking the Hollow from their view. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Honor among Hollows?” Uryū mused.

Lips peeled back from sharp, glistening teeth as Grimmjow sneered. “More like I’ve learned that you three are f*cking sh*tty friends. Ichigo told you to leave us alone, but it seems the three of you just can’t let a single Hollow slip through your fingers.”

Dark ocean blue irises clashed with sky blue. Two sharp tongues prepared to battle, when they were held apart by an echoed voice.

“Let them in, Grimm.” Grimmjow turned. Ogihci stood in the center of the room. The smile on his face gone and replaced with stern anger. “I’ve been meaning to give them a piece of my mind for a while now.”

He didn’t like this. Not one bit. Ogihci, by nature, was surprisingly non-violent, but he had limitations. If he feels he or Ichigo were wronged, he makes sure that person doesn’t make the same mistake again. Grimmjow snorted and removed the chain, standing aside to let the three in.

He regretted it immediately.

A hard, unbreakable orange wall materialized with a mute incantation and pinned Grimmjow in place. Trapping him against the front door, a determined princess held out her hands to enforce her power directly and refused to let the Arrancar interfere. Behind her stood a beast wearing a friendly facade with mutated arms and a prideful creature scorned and scarred by love. Spiritual pressure consumed Chad’s massive arms as Uryū drew back the string, poison pointing directly at Ogihci’s chest. Grimmjow cursed and instinctively reached into his pocket—snarling to himself when he realized Goro still slept inside his pill in the nightstand. Damnit.

Steady gold eyes drifted from one friend to the other before Ogihci spoke. “What’re you doing?”

Uryū’s pale fingers tightened on his bow. “We’re thinking about saving our friend some trouble.”

Twisted and hateful, Ogichi smiled, the skin of his lips threatening to tear. “Friend? The three of you don’t even know the meaning of the word. You are no friend of King’s.”

“Ichigo has been a close friend to each of us for a long time,” Chad took a step forward, “You have only caused him problems.”

“Nearly cost him his life,” Orihime added, her eyes pained as she met Grimmjow’s furious face.

“His sanity,” Chad continued.

“You turned him into a murderer,” Uryū pushed through gritted teeth. Orihime winced at the memory.

A loud BANG caused the three to jump as Grimmjow snarled and bashed on Orihime’s shield with angry fists. “You f*cking morons! You dumbass, assholes! What the f*ck do you think you are! What do you think you’re doing now!”

“We aren’t going to kill him, Jaegerjaquez.”

“That’s a lot of weapons to be pointing at a guy you don’t intend to kill,” Grimmjow snapped.

Uryū shot him a look, but it softened when he turned back to the Hollow. “We’re asking you to leave.”

White arms crossed. It was getting harder for Ogihci to keep his anger hidden. “And if I don’t?”

The blue arrow pulsed with power and grew. “Then we’ll be forced to change your mind.”

“f*ck you guys!” Grimmjow roared as he beat his fist on the shield, giving everything he had. The ferocity caused Orihime to flinch and brace herself, sweat dripping from her chin. Grimmjow caught her grey eyes and bared his teeth as he snarled again. “I expect this from those two dickhe*ds, but you? I thought you cared about people no matter who they are or what they’ve done to you! What happened to you? I thought you loved Kurosaki! This isn’t what he wants! Ogihci is Kurosaki’s power! Don’t do this!”

His throat was tight. Anxiety flooded his limbs. This wasn’t something he felt often. Fear. Only two people had ever pulled that emotion from him; Aizen and Kurosaki. It was an emotion that kept him alive, but now he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He was weak and worthless in this Gigai. Reduced to a mere human. In some instances, he wouldn’t have minded the comparison, but in this situation he was powerless, and it made his fear worse.

“You’re wrong, you know.”

The echoed voice soothed his nerves. That’s right. He shouldn’t be worried. Ichigo’s friends were strong, but this was Ogihci. The Hollow that defeated Ulquiorra.

Uryū’s arrow shrank. “Wrong about what?”

“You’re wrong about Hollows. They aren’t created based on the sole purpose of causing pain and suffering. Use that brain of yours for once. Soul Reapers take on the role of guardians and protectors of life, they represent self sacrifice. Quincies permanently erase dirt and grime from the world, they are recognized as spiritual cleansers. Souls wander, seeking love after their death, and in essence symbolize loneliness. Humans are unrestrained and limitless and carefree, obviously holding the title of life. Do you know what Hollows represent?”

The heavy question was met with silence. Even Grimmjow didn’t have an answer.

Ogihci’s eyes flashed as his mask cracked and anger seeped through. “Self preservation. That’s the motivation behind every Hollow and their reason for every action they take. Over time, souls become lonely. Their families stop praying. Their friends find replacements. They watch with their own eyes as everyone they loved and everything that was once theirs fades away piece by piece. Even the darkest of hearts can’t escape the agony of being forgotten. You’ve all been in battle. You know the sting of a sword slicing your skin, but you’re also human, and you know the torturous pain of heartbreak is far worse than any war wound. If you could remove that feeling...wouldn’t you? After years and years of feeling their heartbreak and crumble day after day, they finally become free. Their hearts are removed from their chests and their faces are shielded by masks. Every Hollow is driven to serve and protect themselves. It’s an instinct found inside everything with a pulse. If a Hollow becomes hungry, they feed. If a Soul Reaper or Quincy attacks, the Hollow kills to defend themselves. If a memory of a lost love resurfaces, they squash it before the pain of their neglect can be felt again. Hollows are not the bringers of death. They’re nothing more than animals caught in a cannibalistic food chain.”

Dark spiritual pressure spiked from Ogihci and Grimmjow’s heart lurched, beating hard against his ribcage as the Hollow’s anger began to boil.

“I never once caused my King harm. He nearly lost his life trying to get his powers back and I protected him! Those damn Soul Reapers who dared call my King their friend butchered his body in the Soul Society. My mask was the only thing that saved him! My power gave him enough strength to keep living! I protected him! I protected myself! You didn’t do anything!”

A brutal explosion of black and red flames burst from Ogihci’s body and consumed the room. Orihime’s shield shattered and they all fell to their knees, clawing at the ground as they struggled to breathe. Grimmjow cursed and his arms trembled. Ogihci was losing it. This was bad. Very bad.

“My King’s heart bleeds like a Soul Reaper’s should, overflowing with a constant need to protect others and sacrifice himself. I knew he would get himself killed. I did everything I could to make him stronger, to help him survive just a little bit longer...but you and the rest of King’s so called friends were too weak to defend yourselves! You all depended on him and expected him to perform miracles! He grew stronger for you but you did nothing to help him! He died for you! He died for all of you and all you could do was bring him back to life and let him die again and again! He’s just a boy! A child! You all made him fight a grown man’s battle, a battle that wasn’t even his! His body carries scars that should be yours! He shouldn’t have fought your battles! He shouldn’t have lost his powers! He shouldn’t have lost me!”

White fingers curled into deadly claws and a frightening snarl ripped through his throat. sh*t. Grimmjow gritted his teeth and gathered his spiritual pressure, building up to resist before anyone crossed the line.

“For years I’ve wanted to kill every last one of you. If you didn’t exist, then my King wouldn’t have anyone to waste his life protecting,” a psychotic grin split his face in two, “And for the past five years you refused to help him. You kept me buried deep in his heart, alone and watching my King fall apart without me, and you patted yourselves on the f*cking back for it. You get in the way of his training. You hurt Grimmjow. You hurt Ichigo. You hurt me! I’m sick of you destroying everything! I’m sick of King being controlled! I’m tired of you three being in the picture! I’ve had enough!”

f*ck. Spiritual pressure burst from Grimmjow and pushed back against Ogihci’s when the Hollow raised a hand. He rushed forward and trapped Ogihci’s arms to his sides by hugging him close, a hand cradling his head and hiding his face in his shoulder.

“Get out of here! Now!” Grimmjow snarled.

Uryū was the first to rise on shaking knees, blue eyes blown wide with fear and reality. Quickly, he helped the other two to their feet and ran. When they vanished from Grimmjow’s senses he sighed and relaxed. His arms eased and released the Hollow, but Ogihci didn’t pull away.

“You should’ve let me kill them,” Ogihci buried his face deeper into Grimmjow’s broad shoulder, “You know I’m right.”

Grimmjow sighed and tightened his arms once more. “Yeah. You are. But Ichigo won’t accept that excuse. It would only cause him pain if they were dead.” His chewed his cheek in deliberation. “You know it would hurt you, too. You said it yourself. You’re as much Ichigo as Ichigo is you.”

A growl vibrated against his throat before teeth sank deep into pale skin. Grimmjow winced when teeth sliced through his bruised skin, blood soaking a blue tongue. After a few silent moments in each other’s arms, Ogihci relaxed his jaw and kissed bloody skin in apology.