I knew very well, from the first moment I saw him, that he was going to be my downfall.
He was going to fuck up my head and my heart and he was going to hurt me more than I ever thought anyone ever could.
I knew this.
But I let him do it anyway.
For some reason I have a lot of friends. Old, uncle-type figures who are friends of my dad and have always looked out for me. The kids who I grew up with and know me better than I know myself. Chad, Renji, Ishida; people who I can always relate to and rely upon. Rukia and her refreshing nature that genuinely makes me believe we could be friends forever. Inoue, my sisters, people who I want to protect.
These are my friends. I love them.
At least I thought I did.
Nothing could quite prepare me for what I felt when I first met Grimmjow. I wanted to rip the smug smirk off his face with my bear hands.
That's odd. I though. He hasn't even done anything. We haven't said four words to each other and yet I want to push him down, smash his face in, lick the blood off his skin…
I stopped myself right there.
Sorry. Run that by me again?
The thing is, I thought I loved my friends, my family. I thought I was a pretty decent, albeit normal, guy. As it transpires, what I felt for Grimmjow really put a lot of things in perspective.
I loved him. I was crazy about him. I mean really. I was crazy.
Grimmjow lived in the student halls like a lot of other first years. He lived with five other students on the first floor, and I lived on the second. Our flat mates would frequently borrow an ironing board or some bin bags off each other. Everyone was friendly, everyone got along.
But I hardly spoke to him, I didn't need to. I had a job which kept me busy, lectures during the day, and night life to enjoy.
But I saw him around almost everyday. On the bus to the campus, on the stairs, sitting outside on a bench smoking. He would greet me in a thick, husky accent. But that was it. He never asked to get to know me. And I never offered.
By this point I was already in love with him.
I never did find out what degree he was studying, or if he had any family, or even his exact age. But I couldn't escape his obnoxious reputation.
The things people would say about him, the rumours… God.
They get me hard.
I heard about how he would fuck men in dark places. He would literally make them scream. Scream. I can barely handle fantasies about him. How the fuck would I ever deal with the real thing?
I can't even think about it… so fucking hard.
Almost every weekday when I was leaving for work or school, he'd just be returning home; the stench of sweat, cum and cigarettes clinging to him like a fog.
He'd walk past and smile at me condescendingly. I wonder if he ever knew. He probably figured out something was up. Like my dick, for example.
It got worse. I couldn't sleep, I forgot to eat, I couldn't fuck a girl, I couldn't fuck a guy. I would see him leering at me behind my eyelids every single fucking time I closed my eyes. I would dream about him, masturbate like a fourteen year old to the images in my head. But the memory of him when I was alone didn't do him justice at all. He was far more beautiful in person. His eyes were not blue. Blue is a colour. His eyes were more than that. They were feeling; anger, destruction, loathing, lust. He would just look at me and I'd fall apart. Not on the outside, but inside it was chaos; it would rain glass as the crumbling inner city of Ichigo Kurosaki tore apart at the seams.
The whole thing was pathetic. Maddening. Ridiculous.
I would sit in my room biting my nails, forgetting my deadlines and sinking into insanity. I was breaking the hearts of those around me but I couldn't give a fuck. Thinking of others didn't even register.
I didn't want this. To obsess over someone to the point where I really needed some serious help. I never wanted it. But I never stopped it either.
Then again, if I had tried to, who's to say I would have even succeeded.
Maybe, from the moment I was born, this was my fate.
To be unfulfilled for the rest of my life.
Someone was smoking in their room, I expect. That's what set the fire alarm off. I wonder if it was Grimmjow. I wonder if he knew everyone would run out in their pyjamas. I wonder if he wanted to see me like this.
I shivered. In nothing but some thin cotton sleeping pants and an old battered shit, I was freezing. But it was 3 AM and I wasn't awake enough to really register what was going on as I was swept away by the crowds of people in the corridor, dashing for the fire escape.
People around me were all stood in groups, complaining loudly about the unknown asshole who was smoking in the topmost stairwell where the alarm was set off.
Something suddenly cut through the mindless chatter and excitement.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and a jolt of lightning shot down my spine. Straight to my cock.
I turned around and saw him. His gaze was fixed on me and I felt that even if I turned away and ran, I would never be able to escape the look he was giving me.
He wasn't smiling, he wasn't doing much of anything. Just looking. Intently. His friends and the people around us moved around, making jokes and lightening the mood, but his eyes did not stray from mine for even the slightest second.
It was the single most terrifying thing I had ever seen.
He licked his lips, looked down at my crotch, up to my face again, before breaking the spell and following some people back inside.
I was hard. Ramrod hard. And it was obvious.
I crept away and nearly ripped my dick off as I touched myself in a dark secluded place near by.
The air was cold. Too cold. It felt like icy breath down my neck.
I was sat in the student bar by myself, drinking. It was a Sunday night. The place was almost empty except for a few other loners like me.
I felt him before I saw him. The heat that rolled off him was crippling. My dick twitched, but that was nothing new. He sat at the bar on a stool next to me and ordered something strong.
"D'you fancy me or something?" He husked, moments later. His voice was so thick and there was an inflection of something… it sounded German, but I couldn't be sure.
I knew, as soon as he spoke, that I was going to be someone else. I was not going to be Ichigo. I was not going to be in love with him. I was going to be cool, calm, collected.
If I threw a fit and started a fight over his arrogant assumptions, then it would all come out in an angry flood, and that would be more degrading than anything I'd been through so far.
"No." I lied. It was easier than I thought it would be. "I don't fancy you, Grimmjow."
I glanced to peek at his expression and was shocked to see him looking at me, almost curiously. I frowned.
"What?" I bit out.
"I like the way you say my name." He told me.
The nearest hotel was a 5 minute walk. I didn't want to go back to the student halls. The whole journey there was a lot more relaxed than I thought a one night stand would be.
We walked at a sedate pace. I didn't dare touch him. Was this really happening?
We didn't talk much. Grimmjow paid for the room.
I've slept with four people. They are all people I still talk to. Old friends.
First was Inoue. Because, as harsh as it sound, she was simply there. But that was a long time ago and she's happy with Ishida now. Then was Renji. He's been my friend since forever and stuck with me through thick and thin. I was seventeen. And curious. Third, I slept with Urahara, an old friend of my dad's. I haven't told anyone about him. Never breathed a word. Finally, I slept with Rukia. Because she was a virgin and didn't want to be. We had problems stopping once we started, though, so it dragged on for a few months. We're now friends again, like nothing ever changed.
Were all corridors this long? It felt like I was walking along death row.
Grimmjow unlocked the door and walked into the room. I followed him noiselessly, stepping over the threshold and waiting for the executioners axe to swing down and decapitate me.
Finally. The end is in sight.
I wonder if he could taste my desperation as he kissed me. I felt my breath catch in my throat as his wet, hot lips set fire to my skin. I slid a hand over his warm, hard stomach to clutch the front of his shirt, drawing us together so closely not a breath of air could pass between us.
He was holding me up; one of his thighs pressed between my own and a hand creeping under my shirt to ghost against the bumps of my spine. His free hand wound itself into my hair like it has a mind of its own and his grip tightened painfully.
I gasped in his hold and as my lips parted, Grimmjow immediately plunged his togue into my mouth, stroking and teasing until I was moaning like a whore. But I couldn't ask him to stop.
He pushed me backwards onto the bed and our clothes were stripped away without much fuss. He was sliding his boxers down his legs and I'm not sure I'll ever forget a naked Grimmjow leering over me, with a body like a god but the smile of a demon. His cock was so thick and so long and I wanted it like I wanted air. My own dick twitched against my stomach, pre-cum smearing against my skin. The anticipation of the whole thing was literally going to kill me.
He settled himself between my legs, stretching over my body to kiss me. I reacted franticly, my hands gripping his back to pull him flush against me. So warm. So hard. But so soft and right at the very same time. I could hardly kiss him by this point, my breathing was too ragged, too shaky. I couldn't catch my breath. He wouldn't let me.
After a few expertly executed kisses, I was shaking with the force of my need to have him fuck me.
"Do it." I begged. "Fucking, do-it."
He did it. It wasn't what I expected, but he did it. He put his tongue up my ass.
Rolling me onto my stomach and pulling my backside close to his face, I felt it, my head buried in the pillows. his tongue. Lapping at my balls, my ass cheeks, and finally, inside me. I heard him spit a few times to make me wet, felt his tongue probe with sharp flicks, over and over.
My mind was gone. I was shaking and sobbing and even felt a tiny bit nauseous for reasons I can't remember.
I cried out and came hard all over the sheets beneath me; my head spinning, my thighs twitching and my cock throbbing with every burst of cum.
I collapsed against the sticky sheets, utterly boneless.
I felt his heat and weight press down on me; felt his rock hard cock dig into my ass cheek.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" He rasped against my neck. Good god, he smelt amazing.
Yes. I wanted to say. I'm in love with you.
But the wrong words came tumbling out of my mouth.
"Fuck me, Grimmjow." I croaked. "Fuck me right fucking now."
"You want me to fuck you?" He asked in mock surprise. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." I whisper.
"Alright then." He replied, voice like liquid heat.
His tongue creeped out of his mouth to brush against the shell of my ear.
As he spoke, the whole world seemed to tremble at the sound of his voice.
"But don't forget, you asked for this."
Grimmjow filled me. He was inside of me. For one frozen moment, I let myself go. I let him fuck me into complete and utter nirvana. I let him smother my body against the bed. Then he was twitching and whispering 'Ichigo' against my shoulder and I came for a second time, screaming his name and begging God to let this never end.
I extracted myself from his arms and looked down, expecting to see a hole in my chest. There was nothing. I laughed bitterly to myself then pull on my clothes.
Grimmjow fell asleep soon after. I noticed he looked tired; dark rings under his eyes and an irritated crease between his brows. Something was obviously bothering him.
Maybe, if we met somewhere else, if we were older, if I wasn't in love with him, we could be friends. He could confide in me. He could trust me. Even better, he might want to. Because we would be friends.
But real life is a bitch. We will never be friends, we will never be anything.
Like parallel lines running beside each other; sometimes worlds apart, sometimes so close it's impossible to see the space between them. But the space is there all the same. They never touch or come together; they never truly become one.
Perhaps life is like that too.
I looked back at the bed and watched him sleep for a few stolen moments. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his left hand curled into a lose fist by his head and his blue hair stood out at odd angles.
He was so beautiful it must have been a sin.
I ducked my head away from him, unable to look at Grimmjow for a moment longer.
I then left the room as silently as I arrived.
I'm sorry this is so depressing but I was irritated and repressed and felt like writing something dirty, crude and angst-y. I hope you enjoyed it :)