Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor any of its characters. Nor will I ever. No need to rub it in.

Chapter 1

My legs are bouncing and my heart is hammering, I'm so excited. I'm a total mess of nerves and the butterflies roiling in my stomach are driving me to distraction. I think I'm pissing off the cabbie, what with being unable to sit like a normal human being for more than three seconds at a time. But whatever, fuck it. I'm too damn animated to sit still, so he can huff and roll his eyes all he wants, but he's just going to have to deal.

As we round a corner and the all too familiar company building comes into view, my fluctuating heart kicks it up a notch and I feel pretty certain I may go into cardiac arrest before we even reach our destination. I simply can't allow that to happen though, so I take a deep, cleansing breath in through my nose and, through sheer willpower alone, manage to calm my neurotic spasming. Albeit slightly.

As the cab driver pulls up to the curb I realise my palms are sweating. Fuck. My every nerve end is on fire as I glance out the window and up at the magnificent, twenty-story building. As always I'm awed by its impressive size and beauty. I know it sounds a little weird to call a building beautiful, but damn, the place was like an architect's wet dream. It looked so open and inviting from the outset, with most of the offices boasting large, floor-to-ceiling windows and its structure made up of black granite and shining marble. I knew firsthand however that about ninety percent of those glorious windows were tinted, for privacy obviously. Didn't stop the place from being stunning though.

A blatant cough snapped me out of my marvel and, whilst keeping my eyes firmly glued to the almost hypnotic pull of the large company, I turned my head slightly in acknowledgment to the driver waiting for his fair, his livelihood I guess. I didn't need to look, nor ask how much I owed the man. I knew what the fair was exactly, and gave that plus a handsome tip because, well fuck I was just that damn happy, over to the man without even looking at him.

As I stepped out of the cab I was suddenly alerted to just how much adrenaline was coursing through my veins. My knees felt unstable, to say the very least, and my head was buzzing a little. I could feel my fingers twitching for the simple fact that they were itching to be active, and my sporadic heart was relentless in its efforts to make sure I collapsed before I got inside. All of this gave me pause for a brief moment and, as I tried my damnedest to stay my fucktard nervous system, I delved into thought for a minute.

I can't quite believe it's been two months – two whole, unbearable, miserable months – since I was last here. 'Here' being the office building, more commonly referred to by the general public as Pantera S&M Inc. And no, okay, just no. The 'S&M' simply stands for 'Sounds and Music', so please, heads out of the gutter. Pantera Inc is a major record label and company based in Japan, but known throughout the entire world. Bands from all over would kill to be signed under it, and who knows, maybe some have because, from what I've heard, unless you're comparable to some of the greatest music legends of all time, then you aren't even going to get a second glance. It's harsh and it's cutthroat, but hey, that's the music industry for you. And life, for that matter.

I have to be honest. I have no real interest in music. Nothing beyond what I hear on the radio and download onto my iPod, that is. But that's not why I'm here. No. I couldn't care less about signing a record deal – forget that I have no musical abilities whatsoever, neither vocal nor instrumental. Doesn't hinder me from singing along to my favourite songs though. Not in the slightest. What? Don't like it, then don't listen. Fuckers.

Back to the point, I'm not here for anything even remotely music based. I'm here because I received a text. It was simple, and straight to the point, but hell, it's not like I was honestly expecting anything different. Only wishing, I guess. But that's a story for later.

I received the text whilst in the middle of a pretty big painting assignment. Yeah, that's right, I'm a total nut for art. I'm majoring in it at Karakura University, in fact. I've always loved it, always been exceptionally good at it too. Or so I've been told. I've got 'the natural knack' for it, an eye for detail and a flawless technique no matter what I pick up as my utensil, or whatever. I've never cared for labelling anything, not even talent. The way I see it is; I like it, I'm good at it, so what the hell, why not do it?

And I did. I'm now halfway through my final year, and I still have no idea what I want to do after university. The dream is to one day own my own studio, much like my doctor father owns his own medical clinic. And hey, he's a complete loon! If that crazy old fool can have his own clinic where innocent members of the public are subject to his eccentric ploys and nominee-worthy dramatics, then I can damn well have my own studio. It's only fair.

And whoa, I went way off topic. Again.

So I was dutifully painting a canvassed sketch of a jungle cat – I'm reluctant to tell you which, because I just know I'll be judged – as it treks across the sands of a barren desert, a quarter moon high in the sky and reflecting of the animal's beautiful, charcoal fur. I had a lot of fun with the painting, able to experiment with lots of blues and whites as I tried to get the gleam of the majestic predator's pelt just right. I think my professor will like it – she's always had a soft spot for cats.

I was so lost to the world as I worked, like I always am when I draw or paint. Honestly, I've had friends break down my door three damn times because I hadn't answered their texts or calls. Guess I should be flattered they were that concerned about me – though I did make sure that they paid for any damage.

I had had my earbuds in, listening to nothing in particular as 'shuffle' took control of my iPod and hence music choice, sitting on a stool in front of my work and covered in dabs of a whole rainbow worth of different colours when my phone buzzed rather unexpectedly in the pocket of my sweats. I'd thanked the deities that I had chosen that moment to stretch my back, leaving my artwork unscathed as I gave a manly yelp and jumped roughly five feet out of my skin. Yanking the damn nuisance out of my pocket all breath saw fit to abandon me and my eyes went wide when I noticed the number on the screen.

'I'm back. Office as soon as you fuckn can. Don't keep me waiting Berry.'

I'd been so instantly flooded with excitement as I texted back that I had completely forgot to scold the sender for using that damn nickname. I hate it, so naturally the sadistic fucker uses it all the time. I don't care too much, 'cause I give it back as good as I get it, it's just how we work – we berate, and annoy, and test each other's limits until we're both pushing at the very end of our tethers and just about ready to kill the fucking other with our bare hands…

And we wouldn't change it for the world.

'Be there in ten.' was all I had sent back. I didn't get a reply, but again, I wasn't really expecting one.

And that's exactly how I came to be standing outside Pantera S&M Inc, still clad in my loose fitting black sweats, a dark blue wife beater with an old, baggy grey zip-up hoody over the top. I'm wearing a worn-out pair of black converse and I'm still covered in paint. I didn't bother showering since I'd had one this morning, roughly six hours ago, and shit, when I'm told not to be late, then you'd better believe I'm going to be there as soon as humanly possible. Fuck the smudges of paint on my cheeks, collarbone and arms. Fuck the fact that my hair hasn't seen a brush since yesterday. Fuck that in my haste to leave my fairly cluttered, two bedroom apartment I forgot to make sure I locked my front door. None of that shit mattered to me right now. All that mattered was getting in there and finally getting my hands on what I had been denied for what was, in my opinion, entirely too long.

I pull my hood up to avoid the stares and gawks I know I'll get if I don't. That's what happens when you have hair bright and orange enough to rival a fucking tangerine. Stupid mass of unruly, uncooperative spikes got me into a whole mess of trouble during my first year of high school, but after beating my way through the sneering and jaunting populace at the place, it soon ended. At the time it pissed me off, but looking back now I can't help but feel it made me a better man. It taught me to stand up for myself, to not let others push me around. Sure it also helped me develop a perpetual scowl that I fear will never quite smooth out, but hell, it's a small price to pay where pride and ego are involved.

Willing myself not to break into a sprint, I finally push into the lobby of Pantera Inc. Just like the outside, it's so wonderfully inviting and marvellously sculpted. It's all swirling marble and everything is trimmed in glittering black granite. That may sound cold and unpleasant to some, but the plush white carpets and soft glowing lights make it seem so warm and appealing.

I approach the front security desk, where an absolute tank of a man is seated behind a tall reception area. He looks up with bored brown eyes, gazing at me but definitely not seeing me.

"Remove anything metal, sharp or potentially dangerous, put it in the box and step through the detector," he tells me rather mechanically.

I cock a brow, unable to hide a small smirk. "Say that any more robotically and you won't have to rely on your large size to kill people."

This causes him to really take me in this time, and although he frowns at first, recognition soon dawns over that gigantic, tanned face and a large grin cracks across his face.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the lil' Strawberry," he states, standing up to tower a good foot over me. Seriously, the guy is monstrously huge. I'm convinced he eats smaller humans for breakfast. "It's been a while, kid. How's it goin'? Still gettin' yer ass smacked around fer that ungodly mop of hair?"

I could feel my right brow twitch in annoyance for several different reasons, but decided to hold back on my frustrations for now. I had places to be.

"It hasn't been nearly long enough, if you ask me," I retort, my scowl deepening. "And I do not get my 'ass smacked around', asshole. If anything, I'm the slapper, not the slappee."

I realise the folly of my words as soon as I say them, but it's too late to take them back now. Unfortunately the security guard, Yammy, noticed too and isn't trying in the slightest to rein in his mocking chuckles, leaving me to cross my arms irritably. Figures that the only time he isn't as slow as a fucking ox is when I make a tit out of myself.

"You said it, kid," he laughed, sitting back down and waving his hand. "Go on through. I guess I trust ya enough not to go around shootin' up the place'r nothin'. And even if ya do, you're the boss man's problem. He can take care'a ya."

"Yeah, yeah." By now I was already on the other side of the small, walkthrough metal detector. "Later, Yammy."

The second receptionist was yet another familiar face. Then again, after coming here on and off for the past near three years, it's hardly surprising that I recognise a lot of faces–

"Oh, Ichigoooo~!"

–and they me.

"Hey, Yumi," I greet the entirely too feminine man sitting behind the desk. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine," Yumichika Ayasegawa replied, inspecting perfectly manicured nails as I approached the desk.

For a dude, this guy had the creamiest, most flawless complexion I think I'd ever seen in my life – on either sex. His raven hair was practically gleaming under the white lighting, sitting poker-straight along his jaw line and framing his girlish features nicely. I had no doubt that the man had a real Marsha Brady thing going on, and brushed his hair at least five hundred times before he left the house.

I could see his violet eyes now scanning the computer screen in front of him, a mirthful smirk tugging at the corner of his full lips as he "Hmm"ed and made a conscious show of what he was doing. I groaned inwardly, knowing precisely what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

"How strange," he commented, acting genuinely stumped. God he pissed me off sometimes. "There's nothing in today's schedule that even mentions your presence. Isn't that peculiar?" I gave him a deadpan look that I hoped spoke volumes, resisting the urge to punch his 'perfectly symmetrical' face in. "Am I to assume that this is a…social visit?"

"I don't have time for this." I thrust my hand out, palm facing up. "Give me the damn card before I'm forced to un-pretty your facial features."

Yumichika hid a giggle behind his hand. "My, my. So impatient, Ichi…"

"Yumi…"

My eyes narrowed considerably, my threat left hanging in the air. I found myself somewhat glad that the receptionist's lover wasn't around at the moment. He was another security guard, was fiercely protective of his slender partner and, oh yeah, certifiably insane. I rarely crossed paths with the bald headed bastard without gaining a new cut or bruise. Don't get me wrong, Ikkaku was fucking legendary, but holy shit – testosterone and bloodlust much?

Yumichika looked like he was going to tease me further, just for kicks I assume, but a low growl and another pointed thrust of my open hand cut him off. With a dramatic sigh he finally reached into a drawer behind his lavish marble desk, producing a spare employee key card to the fortified elevators seconds later. He slapped it into my hand, holding it there for a second to catch my eye.

"Seriously though, it's good to see you Ichigo. From what I hear, the Big Boss has been going nutty these past lot of weeks, and I think you may be just what the doctor ordered."

I blinked, unsure of what to say to that. Usually the extent of our interaction was Yumichika ragging on at me until I snapped and insulted him for being a Nancy-boy, by which point the ever psychotic lover-man would jump into to defend his partner – only ever fuelling my antagonistic jibes at Yumichika's feminine qualities. I mean come on, damsel in distress anyone? We'd fight and bicker, all in good humour of course, until we're pried apart by Yammy 'The Human Tank' Llargo. We'd all share a laugh and words of a rematch then be on our merry ways. So yeah, Yumichika's words just now were rather baffling.

Feeling a little awkward, and a whole lot embarrassed, I simply nodded and uttered my thanks before making my way over the twin elevators off to the left. I swiped the key card and waited, trying my best to ignore the fact that I knew the girly-boy was staring at me. I sighed with relief when the doors to my right dinged open and quickly shuffled inside, hitting the button for the top floor.

Finding myself all alone with my thoughts, and with nothing better to do, I started fidgeting again, watching the buttons on the panel lighting up as the car passed each floor. During my brief exchange with the others, I had momentarily forgotten just how jittery and excited I had been, and as the feelings rushed back now I found myself getting short of breath. I started tapping my foot impatiently, glaring as number fifteen of twenty lit up. Had this damn thing always been so fucking slow?

I practically propelled myself out of the doors as soon as they opened on my designated stop, walking hurriedly down the corridor like a man on a mission. Which I suppose I was.

With blood roaring eagerly in my ears and my eyes trained on the double doors I so badly wanted to burst through, I would have completely bypassed a certain PA without a seconds hesitation – had she not seen me coming and glomped me on the spot, that is.

Unprepared for the friendly attack, I toppled over backwards, pulling the light, female form down with me. Not that I had much of a choice in the matter when her arms were locked around me in a vice-like grip that would put professional wrestlers to shame.

"F-Fuck…Nel, I…ughn…" I struggled for words as the girl's wiry arms enclosed around my chest, her hands locked around my back as she proceeded to wring every last breath from my lungs. "C-Can't br-breathe…Nel!"

"Oh! Sorry Itsygo!"

The appendages bound around my midsection loosened and retreated, leaving me to gather greedy inhales of air as the girl sat back on her knees. She gave me a brilliant, heart-winning smile, her long, sea-foam green hair falling around her beautiful face as hazel eyes crinkled from the width of her beaming mouth.

"You really need to learn your own strength, Nel," I stated as she got to her feet and extended a small, dainty hand out to me. I took it and she, quite successfully, hoisted me to my feet, causing me to slam bodily into her. I couldn't help but blush uncomfortably as I felt her rather ample chest pressing into mine. "Seriously."

Nelliel Tu Jaegerjaques giggled, wrapping her arms around me in a warm – and considerably less life-threatening – embrace. I smiled and returned the gesture.

"I missed you, Itsy," she sighed wistfully against my shoulder.

I hugged her a little tighter in response, murmuring into her hair, "Yeah. Me too."

She pulled back, giving me a good look at her at long last. She was about the same height as me, around 5'9", something that always intimidated me slightly. Not that I would ever tell her that. Her hair was down today, tumbling past her slender shoulders, her long bangs parted at her forehead to showcase a gorgeous, round face and shimmering doe browns. Her curvaceous body had been poured beautifully into a white summer dress, one that hugged her hips and chest provocatively, whilst the rest billowed out to her knees. White pumps and a light dusting of make-up completed her look.

I'd be the first to admit; she was absolutely banging.

"You look stunning, Nel." I simply couldn't help but compliment her, the words formulating before I'd even realised I was talking. Sometimes it was a damn shame she did nothing for me – but that didn't mean I didn't appreciate her very apparent appeal. Not at all.

"Awh, thanks Itsy!" she beamed, giving me the full view with a graceful twirl. She seemed to take a moment to drink me in before cutely scrunching up her nose. "It's a pity I can't say the same thing about you. Not today at least."

"Um, yeah." I spared a quick glance down. "I was, uh…in a hurry."

Nelliel smiled before giving me a conspiratorial wink. "I'll bet. Look, I don't wanna hold you up – I was waiting for you to get here so I could go out and grab a bite, actually. You would not believe just how hungry I am, like, soooo hungry. The flight back was uber long and just awful, and the food was terrible–"

I sighed. "Nel…"

"–well, not terrible, but y'know, it is aeroplane food, and I–"

"Nel…"

"–'ve just been dreaming all day of a big, greasy burger from that little bar around the corner, you know the one, it has the cute little veranda out front and–"

"Nel!"

Thankfully this time I got through to her, though instantly felt bad for startling her, causing her to jump and cut off mid-sentence. But honestly, the girl is even worse than me when it comes to spacing out. It had to be done.

When she raised a brow in question to my little outburst, I gave her a pointed look and simply said, "Focus."

"Huh?" It took a few seconds, then it clicked and she grinned sheepishly. "Oh yeah, sorry Ichi. Guess I got a tad sidetracked…"

"Just a little," I affirmed in a teasing tone.

"Right, so, as I was saying, I'm going to make myself scarce for a couple of hours. But I just thought I should give you the heads up that brother is in a foul mood. He didn't sleep well on the plane, hasn't eaten anything substantial in days, and…" She draped an arm around my shoulder, cupping a hand around her mouth to whisper in my ear. "Between you and me, I think he missed his Berry too much to function properly."

I could feel my heart warming at such consideration – that he would actually care enough about me to miss me when he was away was a nice thought, a very nice thought, but it was completely useless to get my hopes up about such a notion. Thinking such things was only setting me up for a fall too high to ever recover from, and although there were a few times I had entertained the idea that there might actually be something more than what showed on the surface, I had quickly quashed such idiotic fantasies. It was ridiculous, and utterly hopeless, and I wouldn't let myself fall any deeper than I already had. It hurt enough as it was.

Nelliel finally released me, ducking behind her small yet beautifully crafted oak desk to grab her clutch purse. Checking to make sure she had everything she needed, she gave herself a swift nod and stepped forward to give me a small kiss on the cheek.

"Go get 'im, tiger," she declared happily before skipping off down the hall, her long hair and flowing dress bouncing with her every step.

I waited until she was right out of sight before turning to face the imposing doors behind me. I swallowed thickly, my previous enthusiasm now tainted with a heap of emotions I simply didn't care to deal with at the moment. Dammit Nel, I muttered to myself. Couldn't just keep your mouth shut…

I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, inwardly reciting a mantra of "Don't be such a pussy!" before throwing open the doors and striding in like I owned the damn place, hoping against all odds that it looked as confident as I had intended it to.

The first thing I noticed was that I didn't notice him. The ridiculously spacious office was empty.

Feeling more than a little deflated, I took the opportunity to reacquaint myself with the familiar surroundings. Directly ahead of me was the man's large, cherry wood desk, with a gigantic window situated directly behind that – and when I say gigantic, I mean that the damn thing was acting as the wall, allowing light to flood into the roomy area. The walls were painted in a calming blue tone and the carpet was pristine white. Two white leather couches sat facing each other to the left, a stylish glass coffee table in between them and a royal blue shag rug covered the area beneath them. To the right was a mass of filling cabinets and, tucked into the far corner, was a minibar, complete with pine wood bar and four stools. A state of the art white Mac computer sat on the desk, accompanied by a black Mac laptop sitting neatly beside it. A 60" flat screen TV was pinned up to the wall beside the couches, and an impressive sound system for listening to and sampling music was hooked up all around the room. The rest of the space on the walls was littered with signed instruments and photographs, as well as gold and platinum records.

Taking it all in, I couldn't help but smile. Everything about this room had his signature all over it – sleek gadgets, rich furnishing, pricey booze, I could even smell the nicotine of his favourite cigarettes if I breathed in deep enough. The place seemed to scream "filthy rich, arrogant, obnoxious, pompous, self-centred, cocky bastard". But that's cool. In fact, it only served to stretch my smile all the wider. It was just so fitting, so accurate, so…

"Grimmjow."

I let his name roll off my tongue like silk, and when strong arms wrapped around me from behind I didn't even flinch. The smell of his expensive cologne, of his designer shampoo and body wash, even his very skin, was emblazoned into my senses, so when he had tried to sneak up on me from behind his efforts proved fruitless.

I had literally smelled him coming.

"Berry." His voice was low and husky, just like I'm used to hearing it, and oh god it sets my blood on fire every damn time. He pressed himself tight against my back, his rough lips brushing against my ear and causing me to shudder pleasurably. "You're late."

I frowned, trying my best to concentrate on what he was saying. That always proves a hard feat when he's so close, when he's touching me.

"Huh?" I ask stupidly.

I felt sharp teeth nipping at the skin behind my ear, making me – ugh – mewl. "I said you're late, Berry. You told me you'd be here in ten minutes, and you kept me waitin' for thirteen – oh, wait, make that fourteen minutes."

"You actually counted?" I couldn't help but chuckle, bringing my hands up to rest on his strong forearms. "That's kinda sad, Grimm. Did you actually miss me that much you were counting down the minutes?"

"Tch." His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing to the back of my neck. "Like ya didn't miss me too."

I turned in his arms to face him at last, gazing up in to the captivating cerulean eyes that had held me prisoner for the past two and a half years of my life. Dressed in a black Armani suit and powder blue shirt, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Chairman and CEO of Pantera Inc – the same smug jackass who thought it would be hilarious to put 'S&M' in the title of his company – was my biggest addiction, like a living, breathing personal supply of crack cocaine. He was the single most infuriating man I had ever met in my life, bar none. He was rude, conceited, brash, had a mouth like a fucking sailor and a temper connected to a fuse even shorter than my own. But fuck it all, when I looked into those searching blue pools to find them burning with barely contained lust and unbridled desire, I just couldn't bring myself to care about anything else.

I wanted to yell, 'I missed you like fucking crazy! Every single day has been torture to the highest degree and all because you and that shit eating grin of yours fucked off halfway across the fucking world, you damn bastard!'

I didn't, of course. Instead I settled for draping my arms around his neck, my fingers delving into unnatural – yet completely natural, if you catch my drift – electric teal locks.

Grimmjow's hair was as wild as my own, sporting a continual just-out-of-bed tousled look that was sexy as holy sin. He usually wore a whole myriad of hair products in a futile effort to try and tame the unruly locks in some manner, which, just like my own, never really worked. But as I ran my hands through the strands now I was pleasantly surprised to find them silky soft and free of any cosmetics. I wondered briefly if he had done that for my benefit, before quickly dismissing the idea. Sure he knew that I loved to trail my fingers through his unblemished hair, but that didn't mean he'd forgone his usual styling just for my preference. He'd probably not seen fit to do anything with it because he'd be travelling all day.

Yeah, that was probably it.

"I got by okay," I answered him, fisting my hands to pull lightly at his hair.

He growled at the action and my knees went weak at the sound. From my position I could see him closely examining my face and felt my ears burning as a result. The fucker was a total sadist, deriving obscene amounts of pleasure in my torture and humiliation – hence the feral smirk ripping across his mouth right now.

"There it is, that sexy little blush of yours," he purred, pulling me flush against him, one large, calloused hand cupping the back of my neck and the other wrapping tight around my waist. He leaned forward, catching me off guard by nuzzling his nose into my hair and inhaling deeply. "Fuck, Ichigo. I haven't stopped thinkin' about ya since I fuckin' left."

I can't even begin to describe what hearing his voice saying my name does to me. Not that stupid nickname, but my actual name. I love it. The way his voice drops a few octaves when he utters it, how it purrs so fucking deliciously off his tongue and makes it sound like I'm his possession. That used to piss me off like nobodies business, but I've long since come to accept the fact, the one where I am the property of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. If anything, I live to fulfil that role, because I know he's all I'll ever want.

"The whole way here," he continued, the hand settled at my waist beginning a slow roam of my lower back, "all I could think about, all I could fuckin' see, was you. Your ridiculous orange hair…" Strong fingers tugged at the spikes at the nape of my neck, exposing my throat to him. "Your peachy skin…" A hot, wet tongue laved a trail up my neck, ripping a particularly wanton moan from the depths of my soul. I felt him shudder in anticipation – it turns him on when I'm vocal, so I make a point to be loud, just for him.

"Wh-What else?" I asked, my fingers clutching their silky surroundings for what seemed like dear life.

I was painfully hard right now, and I had no doubt that he could feel just how badly I ached for him through the loose material of my sweats, pressed together as we were. It was quite pathetic really. Here I was, trembling and stuttering in his arms like a needy whore and he hadn't even kissed me yet. Damn.

Grimmjow chuckled. It would appear he was enjoying teasing me. Fucker.

"Oh, I don't know. Let's see, ne?"

He unzipped my jacket, the sound deafening to my ears as he did it with a deliberate slowness. He tried to slide it from my shoulders, but I just couldn't bear to let go of him. He probably had no idea, but he was the only thing keeping me on my feet right now, and I had absolutely no intention of letting him go just yet. He simply chuckled and pulled it back to expose my shoulders, his lips gliding over the bare flesh whilst his hands grazed up and over my stomach, hiking my t-shirt up with them.

"I've missed this…" I groaned when his teeth scraped across the clavicle of my collarbone, my head lolling back and my eyes clenching shut. The sound abruptly cut off however as my breathing hitched when he brushed the pads of his thumbs over my nipples. "…and these."

"Ah, Grimm…" I gave a heady moan when those talented fingers pinched the sensitive buds, grinding myself hard against the older man.

Obviously pleased with the effect his toying was having on me, the teal haired sadist continued his torment. His rough hands trailed down my sides, blunt nails gently scratching and making me shiver. They travelled down my legs and to the back of my thighs, rubbing teasingly.

"I've missed these mile-long legs that look so good wrapped around me," he purred, his mouth now dangerously close to my ear. His hands found my backside, giving it a hearty squeeze and tearing another keening mewl from my lips. "And how could I not miss this perfectly shaped, entirely too fuckable ass? The thought of that tight heat grippin' my hard cock so good got me through many a night, Berry…"

Grimmjow's pretty big on the dirty talk for two reasons; a) because he knows it gets me off when we're going at it like hormonal teenagers, and b) because it simultaneously has the power to turn me cherry red with embarrassment. Much like right now, I imagine. He doesn't stop to tease me, for which I'm grateful though not entirely surprised. He's is, after all, in the same boat as me right now, his own powerful erection very evident against my hip.

"I've definitely missed little Ichi." I can't see his face, but I just know the dickhead's smirking.

He accentuates his point by surging his hips against mine and my eyes roll into the back of my skull as lust consumes me. My fingers tightened their grasp in his hair, eliciting a rumbling growl deep in Grimmjow's chest that vibrated through to my own.

"Don't give my dick nicknames, asshole," I snap. My words lost a lot of their heat due to the fact that they were panted out, but oh well.

Grimmjow chose to completely ignore me, instead snapping my head forward so that I'm forced to look at him. He looks so feral and delicious, such heavy waves of desire that rival even my own rolling off him that I can't help but whimper and lick my lips at the sight. His eyes follow my movements, and I can feel the searing heat coiling in my abdomen flaring up.

"Shit, Ichigo," he murmurs, his voice so gravelly and sexy that it gives me goosebumps. "Out of everything, I think I miss this the most…"

I don't get the chance to ask what before his lips are claiming mine in a searing kiss, both of us clutching desperately at one another from first contact. It was hard and passionate, but entirely too quick as he was suddenly drawing away again, his teeth pulling at my bottom lip. I smirked.

"So you missed my mouth the most?" I ask, my eyes hooded as I gaze up at him. "That would've been my third guess."

"No, baka," he stated with a roll of the eyes. "Not that it isn't a damn talented piece of equipment," he was quick to add, winking saucily.

I frowned, not entirely following. "Then what are you talking about?"

"I meant your face, ya moron," he scoffed, his cerulean eyes darting back and forth to take it all in. "I missed your damn face. Those big chocolate eyes that are always so fuckin' determined, those soft lips that I love to make all plump and red, even that stupid-ass scowl that shows ya for the brat you are."

His hand was cupping my chin, tilting my features upward for inspection as I stood immobile, struck dumb by his words. When he frowned suddenly, just a little crease of his brows across his forehead but enough to alert me to the fact, it drew a sympathetic reaction from me.

"When we're apart for so long, I sometimes feel like I'm not…I dunno…rememberin' you right," he explained, looking somewhat uncomfortable with his own words and thoughts. "Like I've forgotten the exact shape of your nose, or got the wrong shade of brown for your eyes, or pitch for your voice…" Here he laughed and shrugged his head. "And then I think – fuck it! It's Ichigo, how could I possibly get it wrong? Especially when I–"

I cut him off with a rough and demanding kiss. I have no idea what he was about to say, and I guess I'll never know now, but his words up until that point had meant much more to me than I think he realises, and I didn't want to end up disappointed. And so I took the cowards way out, listening to as much as I dared, but leaving his thoughts unfinished before either one of us could regret what he had been about to say.

The contact was full on and instantaneous, both of us realising that we had wasted more than enough time as it was. I granted his searching tongue entrance to my mouth at the same time he wrenched my hoody from my shoulders, our fiery kiss interrupted for a brief second as my tank top went straight after it. Using his broad shoulders for support, I hitched my legs up around his waist, his hands catching my thighs to hold me in place as his tongue once again plunged into my mouth.

I moaned into the kiss as his wet muscle licked along the roof of my mouth before seeking out my own, rubbing and twisting around it sensually as he carried me off somewhere. I sucked on his tongue and delved my fingers through his hair, tugging hard and causing him to stumble.

"Dammit, Kurosaki," he mumbled against my lips. "At least wait until I set ya down before ya start gettin' all needy."

Just as he said this he dumped me down on what I dully realised was his desk. "Shut up old man and get naked already."

"Watch your mouth before I put it to better use, brat," he sneered, though still complied by starting to unbutton his shirt.

I could feel my fingers itching horribly to touch that lightly tanned skin as it was slowly revealed to me, my thighs tensing around him as my legs were still locked around his waist. By the time he'd reached the fourth button I'd had enough – what can I say? I have patience issues.

"Too slow, old-timer," I declared before proceeding to sit up and promptly tearing the thin material open, sending the little plastic discs he'd been working diligently on flying.

"Goddamnit, Ichigo," he groused. "There's yet another perfectly good shirt you've ruined."

I couldn't find my voice to reply, not even a sarcastic remark about how he had more than enough money to buy a fucking shirt store let alone just one more of the damn things. No, I was far too busy ogling the bare skin finally exposed to me. Now me, I'm happy with my size and healthy physique, but where my muscular build would be along the lines of defined, Grimmjow's would be ripped. Grimmjow had the kind of body that most men would gladly sell their souls for, the kind that would make the cover models of Men's Health magazine green with envy – and it was all mine.

Without hesitation I leaned forward to latch my mouth around his right nipple, the sexy hiss my teal haired lover let slip doing wonderful things to my insides as my nails found purchase in his brawny back and his in my orange tresses. I teased the pebbled nub with my teeth, gently biting and suckling before drawing back to blow a cold breath over it.

"Not complaining now, huh?" I teased, turning a small smirk up at the other.

Grimmjow curled his lip, quickly shirking his shirt. "That's enough out'a you. Now, turn around."

I chuckled cruelly but complied, hoping down from my perch to turn my back on my lover. His hands were immediately on me, trailing down over my chest and abdomen, one stopping to dig into my hip whilst the other roamed lower still and crudely palmed my straining erection. I jolt of excited electricity shot through me, and I couldn't stop myself from rocking against the teasing digits.

"Oh fuck, Grimm…"

"Mmm, we're gettin' there Berry." His teeth nipped at the nape of my neck as his hips rolled forward, dragging another incoherent moan from my lungs. "Ya bring any lube?" Unable to respond vocally, I simply shook my head. "Hn. Well I haven't got any since we ran out before I left. Heh. Sucks for you, kid."

Even as he said those words I felt his fingers hook around the waistband of my sweats and boxers, slowly inching them down until my pulsing erection was freed and my ass was bared. He dragged them down to my knees, where he then let gravity take over so that they pooled around my ankles. Three fingers were then pressed against my lips.

"Make 'em good and wet," he purred seductively, his low timbre making me tremble. "'Cause that's your lot."

I readily complied, eagerly sucking the digits into mouth. I heard him groan behind me as I swirled my tongue around his fingers, coating them generously as I suckled greedily. I gave them a playful nip when I felt they were ready, and Grimmjow quickly removed them. He wasted no time, and I soon found myself moaning his name as he pressed not one, but two fingers into me.

"Oh god, Grimmjow…ughn…"

"Fuck," he growled, kissing along the junction of my shoulder as he quickly but carefully scissored my hole. "You have no idea how bad I wanna be inside you right now. I've been dreamin' about this day for fuckin' weeks."

In no time at all the third digit was inside me, Grimmjow obviously impatient and me just about ready to fucking explode.

"D-Do it," I breathed, my hips now rocking back onto his fingers.

"What?"

"Just do it already!" I snapped, my voice coming out in a strange mixture of angry, frustrated and aroused. I turned my head to look at him, my brow creased and my eyes resolute. "Fuck me, Grimm. I can't wait any longer. I need you. Now."

"Shit. You got it Berry."

Within seconds I could feel the tip of his leaking arousal pressing against my hastily prepared entrance, making me swallow thickly. Christ, I'd forgotten just how big Grimmjow was. I gnawed on my bottom lip to the point of breaking the skin as he steadily pushed in, stretching my insides to way beyond their capacity and racking my body with pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck…" I hissed as I felt both my heads droop. "God, it hurts so bad…"

"Shh," Grimmjow soothed, his tongue laving at the nape of my neck whilst one hand circled around my front to pump my wilting cock back to life. I grit my teeth as Grimmjow let loose a strangled groan of pleasure. "Damn Ichi. I forgot how fuckin' tight ya were. Yet another thing I've missed about you."

"Shut up, bastard. It's been two months," I barked, wincing as he finally got himself fully seated.

"Tell me when, Berry," he stated, the strain of having to keep himself still obvious in his voice. "But don't go takin' all day, you feel fucking fantastic and I'm only human."

"Could've fooled me," I muttered darkly, Grimmjow clearly too pleasure-dazed to notice I'd said anything. Fucker…

Slowly but surely, Grimmjow's gentle ministrations brought my member back to life, his wicked fingers against my heated flesh sending waves of heat simmering to my core. Feeling bold – and admittedly a little guilty for keeping my lover waiting so long – I rocked my hips back experimentally, finding the pain still very present, but not completely unbearable.

"For the love of holy good fucking hell, please tell me that's my cue…" Grimmjow said in a voice scarily similar to a whine. "I'm fuckin' dying back here!"

"Hurry up and move then, idiot."

With both hands holding my hips in a firm grasp, Grimmjow slowly slid himself back so that he was nearly all the way out before quickly snapping his hips forward. Biting back another groan of agony, I put all my effort into concentrating on the pleasure the hand around my cock was granting me, waiting for the ache that was Grimmjow's dick plowing in and out of my backside to lessen.

This continued for about a minute or so, the grating pain slowly subsiding to give way to little streaks of pleasure, and then it happened.

"Ah fuck! Yes!" I keened as a brilliant flash of white burst behind my closed eyelids.

I could feel Grimmjow smirking against my neck. "And there we have it."

Grimmjow's pace increased dramatically after the initial contact with my prostate, the once cautious, steady rhythm turning, for lack of a better word, brutal. He hooked his arm behind my right knee and hitched my leg up, widening his own stance so he could slam in harder, leaving me gripping onto the desk in favour of being driven through it.

"Oh Gr-Grimmjow…hah, fuck…har-nghn-harder!"

"Mmm, that's it Berry, let it all out. I've two months worth of hearin' ya scream out my name to make up for."

His hand squeezed around my cock and I gave a loud, heady moan. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer, not when the ridiculously well endowed older man was striking my sweet spot with every thrust and his talented hands were working my throbbing shaft. A few more precision executed snaps of his hips and I could feel my balls tightening.

I reached behind my head, my fingers curling into sweat dampened teal locks. "Ngh, Grimm…"

Said man planted a chaste kiss on my lips, his tongue delving in for a brief taste before answering. "Yes, baby?"

I was too crippled with my imminent release to care about the stupid endearment. For now, at least. "I'm cl-close…so fucking close…"

"Good. Me too."

It took precisely three more thrusts before my head snapped back, 'Grimmjow' the only word my frazzled brain could produce as I came hard and fast all over my lover's hand and desk. Grimmjow managed a few more erratic parodies of his earlier performance before I milked a sympathetic reaction from him, the man coming with a husky growl of my name as his hot seed filled me up.

As we stood trying to recompose ourselves from our glorious high – me with my arms and legs trembling vehemently in their effort to keep me standing upright, and Grimmjow with his hands braced beside mine and his head resting between my shoulder blades – we were suddenly startled out of our peaceful state of post-cotial bliss by the teal haired man's mobile blaring.

With a grumble he gently pulled out of me, and I almost whined at the sudden loss. We hiked up our boxers and pants, Grimmjow glaring as he fished the electronic nuisance out of his left pocket. When he glanced at the screen he immediately sighed and scrunched up his face, a slightly pained expression marring his usually bold and cocky features. When he opened his eyes again he gave me a hesitant smile, those cerulean orbs full of regret and, dare I say it, shame.

Oh. Great.

I knew exactly who it was from that look alone.

"Sorry, Berry. Duty calls."

Normally I would just leave when this particular problem arose, but fuck it all, I haven't seen the man in over eight weeks and I'll be damned if I'm leaving here without at least five rounds under my belt. And so I wipe down the desk with a tissue from the dispenser sitting beside his computer and pop myself up to sit on it, silently communicating to the businessman that I'll keep my mouth shut. He seems to catch on to the not so innocent motives behind my delayed presence and suddenly his smirk is back full force as he nods and finally answers his Blackberry.

"Yo, babe," he says, his tone nowhere near as affectionate as the words would suggest and his smile dying on his lips. "Yeah, I know. I had to swing by the office to sort some shit out before I can head up to see ya…I missed you too, babe…"

I watch as he saunters shirtless around the room, the signs of our coupling evident on his skin in the form of red nail tracks and dishevelled hair. And no, before you ask, I'm not at all concerned about the person on the other line, not in the slightest.

Okay, so I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like hell when he talked in that loved up tone to her, even when it was totally obvious how fucking fake it was. It pulled violently at my heartstrings and made me want to break stuff just for the sake of it, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about the dismal situation.

After all, the woman currently talking to my teal haired lover is none other than Tia Harribel-Jaegerjaques, the one and only Mrs. Jaegerjaques – Grimmjow's fucking wife.

My name is Ichigo Kurosaki and I'm a twenty-one year old college student. I have my own car, my own apartment, a good circle of close-knit friends that I can always rely on and, oh yeah – I am irrevocably, head-over-fucking-heels in love with a very wealthy, very iconic, very married man.

I, Ichigo 'Strawberry' Kurosaki, have fallen for the unobtainable.

A/N: Well, there you have it. Chapter one of my first ever published story. How exciting! For me, anyways. Here's hoping there was enough in there to keep ya'll interested and wanting more, if not, I'm sorry I failed you..

There's more where this came from, obviously. And not just in this story. I have quite a few in the pipelines - and when I say a few, I mean like eleven. Started every single one of them too, just ain't got round ta posting them as of yet.

But yosh, that's enough rambling. I hope you enjoyed, if not, well, oops. My bad.

Ciao fer now,

Toringtino~