Title: Disorientation
Prompt: #07 - Disorientated
Pairing: Shirosaki Hichigo x Grimmjow Jaggerjack
Rating: T
Summary: Shiro has been captured, but does he really want to escape?
Warnings: yaoi, very mild violence, coarse language, hints of dub-con/non-con, mild bondage ..
A/N: In the same universe as 'Close Encounter' and Summer Madness; staged a few months before the latter. ONESHOT.
"It wasn't my fault!" screamed Shiro, panting from the over-exertion of running for so long at such speeds. If it wasn't for fear of imminent death, he would've been floored by now; the adrenaline taking his stamina to all new heights. Shiro caught the heated glare fired in his direction exasperatedly.
"No?" growled Renji, the threat in his voice easily masked by his own exhaustion. "Then ... wha' th'fuck ... was tha' ... all ... 'bout?!"
"I wasn't - " Shiro panted hard, feet pounding on concrete distant to his ears as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. " - gonna take ... tha' shit ... lyin' ... down!"
Another venomous glare was thrown at him as they rounded a corner and hopped over a hedge, trying to evade the angry mob chasing them down. They started darting through the back gardens, leaping over fences with steadily faltering ease after each one. They'd been running for their lives for a good ten minutes now and it was really beginning to take its toll on them, wearing them down as every second flickered by.
"Renji!" said Shiro desperately as they jumped over another low-lying fence as if doing hurdles. "Watch - !"
Renji collapsed into the washing line, despite the warning, and then thudded onto the grass, wriggling wildly as he tangled himself up in a bunch of white sheets, a string of expletives muffled through the material constricting his mad movements. Shiro would've laughed his fucking arse off if it weren't for the fact that a shock of blue hair was galloping down the distance between them. He was half in mind to just leave Renji there but he knew better than to ditch the only closest person to his being he had, even with how resentfully he claimed this in his head.
"Renji! Quit messin' 'round, they're fuckin' gainin' on us! Fucksake!" Shiro gripped his hair as he ran up to the fervently struggling form and yanked the sheets off of him. "Ya fuckin' pussy, get th' fuck up or we're fuckin' dead!"
Renji's eyes widened considerably and shone like a deer caught in the headlights as he sat up, Shiro turning just in time to catch sight of that very same shock of blue hair tearing over the last hurdle and landing joyously on Renji's crumpled form, winding him.
Out of a series of splutters, coughs and a lot more expletives than before, the blue haired man stood with a feral grin. "Gotcha."
Shiro was rooted to the spot, the fight or flight instincts drilled hard into him battling furiously against each other, watching out of the corner of his eye as four more men bounded towards them and stopped behind the one advancing upon him menacingly, all of panting.
"You bitches sure run fast," he said, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. As Shiro sized him up through narrowed eyes, he felt even more fear coursing through his system; he didn't think he'd be able to take this guy on. Especially with all the goons behind him. "Like a rabbit straight out the trap."
He made a whooshing noise and smacked his hands together for emphasis, leering down at Shiro. The sarcasm definitely didn't go amiss. This guy looked a good few years older and was a heck of a lot taller than him, Shiro noted to his dismay. His gut twisted in disgust as eyes swept over his entire body.
"We'll let your friend walk free if you come with me," said the guy, a slow smirk sweeping across his pointed features. Shiro almost spluttered, eyes flown wide in shock. He wasn't ... he surely wasn't planning ... "We don't have any business with him, anyway."
"Shiro, don't - !" Renji halted as he saw one of the blue-haired man's cronies raise his hand beside him with a contorted expression of undefined anger.
"Hold it, Yami," said the blue-haired guy, obviously the ring leader of this pathetic little gang, thought Shiro distastefully. Determination shone in his eyes as those piercing blue ones met his own again, having made his decision.
"It's fine, Renji," said Shiro, eyes boring straight into the gang leader's, who smirked victoriously. "It's my fault we got chased anyway."
"Very noble." The bright-haired guy stalked up to him and grabbed his upper-arm in a vice-like grip, eyes mocking. Shiro grimaced and struggled to free himself from the tight hold. "Ah, ah, no you don't, you're coming with me, and you're gonna do so quietly." A long fore-finger pointed threateningly at Renji, expression suddenly serious. "You; scatter!"
Renji didn't need to be told twice, although he kept looking back with pangs of guilt as he saw Shiro staring after him, a hint of helplessness in his expression that made Renji's gut twist disgustingly. He stopped once he leaped over the last fence and onto the public pathway, rounding a corner until he was out of sight from the dreaded gang.
"Fuck," he muttered, cursing at himself for scampering. Shiro covered him well and good, he owed him big time for that one. But what was going to happen to Shiro now? The guy had a pretty suggestive tone to his voice when he was talking to Shiro, he couldn't be meaning ... "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
He glared at the sky as he rested his back against the brick wall behind him as if it had caused this pile of shit, hands messing up his spiky pony-tail. He glared and glared and glared, hoping to intimidate an answer out of it. When nothing of such came, he narrowed his eyes, coming to one conclusion. Rounding the corner again, he was quick enough to see the flash of sky-blue hair disappearing 'round the opposite side of the string of gardens and he rapidly ran towards it. Renji had a seriously bad feeling about letting Shiro go along with this.
No matter what, he had to get Shiro out of there.
"So, got anything you'd like to say?"
Shiro glowered up at the blue-haired man, whose name still escaped him, and then turned his glare on the rest of the pack who were sniggering behind him. Fucking hell, how could he get out of this mess?
"No? That's too bad, an apology might've gone down well, you know."
The sickening grin that ripped across his captor's face told him otherwise. Fuck. What were they going to do with him? He knew insulting the fuck out of random people wasn't really the best way to go but, hell, they started it.
"I was only fuckin' defendin' m'self," said Shiro, his voice strained as his arm was tugged roughly. A toothy grin practically shone above him and he scowled deeply, loathing this situation.
"Eh, so were we," the guy replied in a mocking tone.
"You's fuckin' started it!" said Shiro before he could help himself and suddenly wished the ground would swallow him whole from the childish tone in his voice. He wished it even more as the whole group bubbled with laughter. Fuck. Just who were this gang anyway?
"You should know better than to mess with anybody on these streets, retard."
"Who th' fuck're ya anyway?" Shiro growled angrily, golden eyes narrowed to slits as he glared. "The fuckin' Mafia?"
"Don't get smart, kid."
The contemptuous comment rose from a random member behind him who Shiro didn't even spare a glance to.
"Grimmjow," said his captor, that feral grin back in place. "Pleasure to meet you ... "
"Shiro," he grunted in reply, begrudgingly.
That damn Grimmjow was still grinning. It was infuriating. What was so fucking amusing?! "Interesting." Eyes rolled over his form once again, raising a sickening feeling in his stomach. "Well, Shiro, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to go some where a little more private where we can settle this."
"Fuck off!" said Shiro, eyes wide as he started struggling against Grimmjow again. "I'm not goin' anywhere private with you, ya bastard!"
Grimmjow didn't seem to have heard him as he cast a warning glance over his shoulder. "Fuck off, you lot, I'll deal with this punk on my own."
A few grumbles were his only reply through Shiro's incessant struggling and insults as the small group sauntering behind them disbanded.
Shiro grunted as he was tugged around a corner, down a grimy back-street and through a large, rust-covered iron door, which clanged loudly behind them, causing him to wince. Grimmjow infuriatingly grinned at him again, tugging him down the dark hallway and through one of the identical row of doors.
Inside the room it was sparse of any décor what-so-ever, the walls covered in the very plaster that was probably splattered on when it was first built. There was a fair-sized table in the middle, surrounded by a dozen or so chairs which dominated the small room and a window on the far wall, opposite the door, allowing a dim light to filter through. It looked like a very Spartan meeting room.
It was nearing dusk, Shiro thought, he had to be back soon.
"Where the fuck ... ?" Shiro muttered out of pure curiousity, letting out a choked gasp as he was thrown forward, face first, onto the table. Thud. "Sh-Shit!"
A body covered his, pressing him further into the table and he spluttered for air, pushing his arms against the hard surface in a slight panic as a velvety voice whispered in his ear. "We're gonna settle this right now."
He could almost feel Grimmjow's manic grin, and it sickened him to the core.
"You sick fuck!" shouted Shiro, panic rippling through his system more urgently as he pushed rashly against the table harder in attempt to dislodge Grimmjow from his back. It had really sunk in now, the way Grimmjow intended on 'settling' this. "No way!"
A chuckle reached his ears and he struggled roughly, cursing himself profusely as his hands were yanked behind his back.
"Shit!" said Shiro, the panic now evident in his voice. He couldn't shake this guy off, he was just too fucking strong. "Get the fuck off me!"
Another chuckle was all that was heard until he was flipped over, yelping as his back and head haphazardly banged against the hard wood. He glared up at Grimmjow, suddenly noticing with a pained throb that his arms had been tied tightly together behind his back. How the fuck ... ? All he could do now was squirm as Grimmjow leaned over his body, holding his legs on either side of his hips in that vice-like grip of his, insuring they couldn't do any damage. Shiro bared his teeth in sheer effort of struggling, deep down knowing it wasn't going to get him anywhere.
Fuck.
"I can guarantee you'll like it," said Grimmjow, suggestively, leaning further still on Shiro, who tried to mould himself into the table, or better yet, sink straight through it. He was dismayed when neither, inevitably, came to pass. Sick, fucking bastard.
A sudden thought struck him in his last, desperate attempt to deter the sick, fucking bastard leering over him. "What fuckin' age're you?"
Grimmjow laughed at the abruptly random question, but humoured Shiro anyway. "16, why'd ya ask?"
"Ya look ... fuckin' twenty or somethin'," said Shiro through more struggling, dimmed somewhat by the shock of this revelation, not knowing what do to now since they were both clearly under-age. Grimmjow merely grinned smugly in response, treating the comment as a compliment, before ceasing all movement from Shiro as he leaned in until their noses touched.
Shiro's breath hitched and he stared, wide-eyed, into Grimmjow's bright, blue eyes which were glinting deviously, more than aware of the proximity of their lips. He wrinkled his nose up in sheer frustration and confusion of why the fuck this was happening as Grimmjow's eyes continued to bore into his own.
"Never done anything like this before, then?" said Grimmjow, cracking a grin as their noses slid over each other slightly. Shiro didn't want to strangle his pride by breaking the intense glare but a blush none-the-less crept up his cheeks as he dug his head further into the table in an attempt to put a little more distance between them.
He stuttered over his words, mind overwhelmed by the closeness; the disorientation of the whole situation starting to get to him. Why the hell was this happening? "Well, uh, I, uh, maybe."
His blush grew at the admission. Yeah, 'maybe' would be the right word for it 'cause he sure as hell wasn't the one being topped all those other times with Renji. Grimmjow shifted his body so their hips pressed flush against each other and his blush darkened, spreading down his pale neck.
He could feel Grimmjow's heat.
He wasn't liking this. No. He couldn't like this. Strands of blue hair, that fell over Grimmjow's equally blue eyes, caressed his forehead and the heat that radiated from him seeped through his clothes. He couldn't let his body respond to this, no, he couldn't. He wanted nothing more than to squeeze his eyes shut and just fucking disappear but his pride wouldn't let him do such a thing. He had to keep staring, it felt like the only thing he had left in defence.
With a renewed, albeit weak, glare, Shiro clashed his forehead against Grimmjow's, watching satisfyingly as he grimaced, those intense blue eyes disconnecting from his for a moment, allowing him to pull in a hasty breath of fast-lived relief. Those eyes, those damn, fucking eyes felt as if they were penetrating his fucking skull and it made him so fucking uncomfortable it was unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable. Or maybe it was the fact it made him feel so fucking good? Why the fuck did he just think that?
"You know, I do like it rough, Shiro, but ... " Those damn fucking eyes were back on his again. It was like he could never escape, even his he had a four foot axe to swing. "You'll fucking regret it if you try that again, got it?"
Grimmjow's face was impassive but his eyes betrayed everything, sending shivers down Shiro's spine at the amount of violence threatened in them. Shiro didn't nod; he didn't so much as breath in response. Grimmjow just grinned.
That was when Shiro's disorientation began to clear and he tugged incessantly at the binds on his arms whilst yanking his legs back, panting a foot on Grimmjow's abdomen and kicking him against the wall, hard. He bounced to his feet, panting and eyes frantic as he darted towards the door, hearing Grimmjow cough roughly. He could almost feel the metal of the handle between his finger tips – he could almost taste his God-damn freedom – when he was hauled backwards hastily by the collar of his navy shirt.
"Fuck!" Shiro spluttered, choked by his own collar, and booted Grimmjow on the shin behind him in another attempt to escape, but to his horror Grimmjow grip stayed firm and he was thrown bodily onto the table-top once more. "Get the fuck off me, Grimmjow! You fucking sick fuck!"
"You were enjoying the attention for a second or two, fuckface," said Grimmjow, growling in Shiro's face as he forced them nose-to-nose once more, eyes glinting dangerously. "So don't give me any of that shit."
Shiro bared his teeth right back. "I'll rip your dick of if you try to start anything."
"Oh?" Grimmjow's amusement was almost palpable, even as his eyes remained livid. "Willing to put a bet on that?"
Shiro let out a frustrated shout and tried to bash Grimmjow's forehead again but was caught by surprise when a hand neutralised the hostile motion.
Another frustrated cry. "Fucking hell, just get the fuck off me!"
"And just let you go? After all that shit?" Grimmjow guffawed. "Fuck off!"
The hand on Shiro's forehead swiftly lowered to cover his mouth, any further protests muffled to incomprehensible noises. Shiro's eyes widened drastically as he was pushed back further on the table so his upper body fully rested on it and his kicking legs were spread wide, with a little difficulty, and placed on either side of Grimmjow's hips. Needless to say, Grimmjow needed two hands for the job and inwardly cursed at himself for having to let go of the boy's mouth as shout after shout and insult after insult rolled off his lips, aggravating him to the core.
"Just shut the fuck up, will you?!" said Grimmjow with an angry roll of the eyes, almost on his last nerve. "You sound like a broken fuckin' record. Shut the fuck up."
To his slight, but pleasant, surprise, Shiro really did shut the fuck up this time, momentarily at least, and he continued with the task at hand. Buttons really were a nuisance but if he actually did want Shiro to cooperate in the end, he did probably have to work for it a bit (which he honestly didn't mind at times; made it more interesting), and ripping the shirt off the boy wouldn't get him any bonus points at all. Especially considering this was all against his will in the first place. Grimmjow cracked a sly grin at this, Shiro furrowing his brow in slight worry, and Grimmjow knew he'd be able to change the circumstances.
"What th' fuck're ya grinnin' 'bout?!" said Shiro, belligerently.
Grimmjow's grin broadened and he began to undo the first of the damn buttons, thinking 'You're gonna be doing more than cooperating in a minute.'
"Fuckin' stoppit!" Shiro whined this time, thrashing ensuing moments after, but reduced to mere wiggling along the table top with his limbs pinned under each of Grimmjow's strong biceps.
Grimmjow glanced up, warningly. "I thought I told you to shut up."
"Fuck off yer high horse!" spat Shiro, face scrunching up in sheer aggravation. It deepened further as Grimmjow laughed. "You shut it!"
"It'd probably be a great time to mention that the hard thing digging into your thigh ain't me," said Grimmjow in a threatening tone that chilled Shiro to the very core. "And I've killed people for less than insults."
That successfully shut the white haired, obnoxious teenager well up. How could he retaliate to that, anyway? Sure, he'd done a lot of damage, and maybe a few people had gotten killed along the way, but he sure as heck hasn't used a gun before.
The shirt was successfully undone and Grimmjow parted it to admire the lean, scarred torso beneath him. "Been in a few fights yourself, I see ... "
Shiro just scowled hatefully, and maybe a little fearfully. Couldn't that gun go off at any second? He was suddenly aware of how hard it was pressing into his inner thigh and he seized up, not wanting to move it. Surely the bastard had it on safety ...
"Don't worry, it won't go off," said Grimmjow, with an amused grin at Shiro's expression. Shiro gave him a defiant, apprehensive glare. "Seriously."
A blush threatened to stain Shiro's cheeks as their groins were pressed flush together in one movement when Grimmjow stooped down until their noses brushed. Once a-fucking-gain. This guy wasn't going to give him a fucking break, was he?
"C'mon," said Grimmjow, in a rare, urging tone. "The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can enjoy it."
Shiro merely scowled at the suggestion, but his resistance was weak now, and they both knew it. Infuriating. "Fuck you."
His arms were really beginning to smart behind his back as they pressed uncomfortably into the hard surface under him, and Grimmjow's added weight certainly didn't help on the matter.
Their lips touched and all thoughts of pain quickly flew out of the window, replaced by a sharp buzzing of astonishment and a twinge somewhere in Shiro's gut. The kiss wasn't rough as such, but it wasn't gentle either, Grimmjow gripping Shiro's lips between his and releasing in a rhythmic succession which had Shiro's twinge turning into several, stronger and more persistent ones.
He was kissing back, fuck, why was he kissing back?!
Despite all the turmoil it caused in his mind, it just felt so blissfully good which was probably adding to the pleasure. The vibration of his knowing chuckle grazed Shiro's lips, leaving a tingling sensation behind which heightened as Grimmjow's lips quickly enveloped his own again. His mind was in a haze once more and his eyes were beginning to slip shut. Renji never kissed like this. He was either all teeth and tongue or extremely tender, nothing in-between. He was all passionate aggression or gentle loving, not this ... this mind-blowing ... whatever the fuck it was.
Shiro's eyes drooped fully after this thought of dismissal, engaging entirely in the kiss that spoke so many volumes he didn't want to even start to comprehend. He was content in enjoying the ride ...
Shocked, golden eyes snapped open and Grimmjow was pushed to stand up straight as Shiro bolted upright, snatching his lips away. His heart was pounding in the realisation that he was almost about to give in to this infuriating, sexy bastard. Fuck, he did not just ...
"I'm not gonna ... !" The angry voice trailed off, Shiro distracting himself more with freeing his arms. "Go along with this anymore!"
Bringing a fist up to the white haired boy's chest, Grimmjow pressed against it until the struggling ceased and his strength overwhelmed Shiro's attempts to stay sitting.
"Fuck up," growled Grimmjow, eyebrows knitted together. He was getting extremely angry – and horny – which was a pretty bad combination. "Or I'll fuck you up."
Not really knowing the implications of that strong statement, Shiro defeatedly landed back on the desk with discomfort and the protesting pain from his arms, staring resentfully at Grimmjow above him who was pulling off his top. He stared fearfully at the filled gun holster, Grimmjow noticing this with stringent amusement.
"If you're good," said Grimmjow, in a sickening manner that twisted Shiro's intestines. "I won't have to use it, but if you're not ... "
Shiro froze as a hand slowly reached down to the holster, Grimmjow's grin also sickening as it widened. What could he do? How the fuck was he going to get out of this one? His eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that could be considered as a weapon before disdainfully reminding himself his arms are tied.
The window.
Could he maybe throw Grimmjow off for a few more seconds like before and make a beeline for it?
Jump through it; smash it?
Fuck.
Where was Renji when you needed him? Oh yeah, Shiro thought with bitter sarcasm, I told him to fuck off, that I'd be able to handle it. Brilliant.
Renji skidded to a halt after he thudded over the last fence, reaching the place where he'd last glimpsed that obnoxiously electric blue hair. Looking around desperately, he couldn't see Shiro or the other bastards anywhere. Shit, shit, shit. What was he going to do now?
Suddenly one of the men of the gang they'd gotten chased by rounded a corner at the end of the street, Renji hastily jumping back over the fence, crouching and peering through the horizontal slats cautiously. He watched as the rest of the gang sauntered behind them, minus their infamously blue-haired leader and, of course, Shiro.
Where the fuck were they?
As he watched them intently crossing the street and disappearing from view, he vaulted back over his hiding shield and pounded towards where they'd appeared from.
It was as good a place to start as any, he thought frantically as his eyes scanned the new street to no avail.
Shit.
He only slipped the holster off, placing it on the table next to a thoroughly relieved looking Shiro. At least he didn't have to directly contend with a gun at the moment anymore, he couldn't handle that. He didn't know how.
That fucking grin was back again. The grin that made Shiro's skin crawl and his insides scream to beat the shit out of the culprit. Grimmjow. The fucking bastard was cocking his head to the side as he examined Shiro splayed out awkwardly on the table, chest raised up from his hands wedged under his back and heaving. The minute Shiro noticed his legs had been freed, they were grabbed roughly and pushed apart until he felt his muscles burn in protest.
"Th' fuck!" Shiro gasped, trying desperately to get out of this demeaning position, feeling his pride crumbling away from him. "Get the fuck off!"
"I already told you my answer to that, so what's the point struggling now?" said Grimmjow, irritatingly and grinning like a fucking madman. Shiro summed him up as one anyway.
Sweat slid down Shiro's hairline and into his brows, the room suddenly feeling extremely oppressive and just too fucking hot. There was nothing he could do. Wave after wave of white hot panic jolted through him, sweat glistening on his torso and stinging his eyes. That fucking bastard!
"You look good, Shiro, all hot and bothered," teased Grimmjow, running a finger down Shiro's slippery chest. The finger smeared a trail, feeling the muscles twitch and slide under it, towards the beginnings of barely noticeable white hair that disappeared under Shiro's torn and ragged jeans. His mind span and he couldn't tell if all the blood was rushing into it or rushing away from it. Thumping it on the table, he finally shut out the sight of his captor, his concentration solely on that fucking finger that was creating these fucking Godly tingles that were just so fucking wrong.
Fuck.
He was panting from all the exertion of his struggling and the renewed adrenaline of a different variety thundering through his veins. He couldn't explain it, he couldn't describe it at all. Disorientation, maybe. Complete dumbfoundment. A complete mind-fuck. He growled.
"Whatcha angry at, Shiro?" Grimmjow continued in his taunting voice that sent shivers cascading down Shiro's spine. No. Just no.
"Yer fuckin' sicker than shit," spat Shiro, his vehemence slightly distracted by the scolding trail of the finger as it started to ascend back up towards his heaving chest. He missed Grimmjow lick his lips hungrily, a predatory gleam in his dodger blue eyes as devious as ever. His sheer power over this whole situation, and the fact the laboured boy under him was wavering, was over-riding his patience. Fast.
He licked his lips again, wanting to taste the boy's sweat, bite the boys flesh and savour his blood.
Shiro tilted his head back, exposing more of his neck to the predatory male hovering above him, eyes still shut as the wretched – but oh so Godly – finger reached one of his nipples, not touching, just circling. Fuck. Shiro swore he was going delirious. He couldn't give in. Not yet, not when he could ...
His eyes snapped open to stare with utter helplessness at the cracked ceiling above him, keeping his head at the strained angle. What could he do anyway? He was fucking bound for God's sake. His legs were pinned and all he could do was flex his toes and thrash his calves about, and that was just as hopeless as his chances of escape. A question that burned hotly in his mind and refused to be banished sent his mind into another brief assault of turmoil.
Did he actually want to escape?
Fuck that, he was about to get fucking raped by this fucker and he was doubting whether to escape or not? What the fuck was wrong with him? He hoped Renji would show up real fast.
The finger finally stopped fucking about and briefly ran over the already hard nub, enticing an unexpected gasp from Shiro as his eyes locked onto lust-ridden ones. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Never mind his body, his fucking mind was going against him with all these fucked up thoughts. He knew he liked it rough, but this was rape; this was ridiculous; disgusting. Fucking wrong. No-one, no matter how fucked up they were in the head – and after everything Shiro's been through, he was pretty perverse – should enjoy rape.
But then, it wouldn't be rape if he enjoyed it.
Fuck.
He squirmed fervently, Grimmjow smirking lustfully above him at the sight of disorientation in the boy's gold eyes. Curiously gold ...
Who gave a shit, he was fucking horny.
"Calm the fuck down, or I'll stop trying to be nice," said Grimmjow, threat laced through every syllable. Shiro didn't calm down, he just ceased all movement, choosing to scowl at Grimmjow heatedly instead, his panting weakening the intended glare. "Good. Now, I'm going to fully let go of your legs now but you've got to cooperate this time."
Shiro stared.
"That means no kicking, retard."
Shiro still stared as he felt his legs drop and awkwardly dangle off the table. He wiggled further up the table till the back of his knees hit the edge to gain a more comfortable position, ignoring the persistent throbs and stings of pain from his tied arms. He could feel his fingers going slightly numb. Shit.
Despite managing to level out his breathing and alleviate his panic, Shiro still felt helluva confused. More prominent questions were scolding his brain now, certainly not helping his disorientation as his mind still reeled at what was happening.
Why did he enjoy that barely there touch?
Why did that dangerous dodger blue stare excite him so perversely?
And why the fuck was his mind screaming out for more?
The finger flattened down, Grimmjow pressing his palm heavily to the boys chest and sliding it down to grip his waist. Shiro's eyes flashed with want for a very brief moment before it was suppressed by rage; the only thing he knew how to control it. Grimmjow smirked that victorious smirk of his, the one that Shiro found absolutely sexy and infuriating at the same time.
After catching that betraying flash of feelings, Grimmjow knew he had won.