Disclaimer: I disclaim.
Warnings: angst muchly, Grimmjow's mouth, vague sexual situations, AUish.
Pairing: mainly GrimmjowxIchigo and IchigoxOrihime, side IshidaxOrihime.
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sad, small, sure in porcelain, you're skin and bones, i'm a nervous wreck; i got a bad feeling about this (i'm coming over but it never was enough, i thought it through and my worst brings out the best in you
Skin Worn Tight
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Ichigo doesn't know how it all started. One day, Orihime was waiting by the gate, and Ichigo had happened to be running late. There was a slight smile, a courteous nod, and words were left unsaid.
There are more ways to have a conversation.
So Ichigo walks Orihime home, like every other day since. It's pleasant, and the girl - she understands him. She doesn't need to always babble and annoy him. Orihime knows when to shut up. She has her ditsy spells, when she talks about her day or the spider crawling on her ceiling - it was really cute don't you know - or how Kurosaki - kun doesn't need to do this every day.
In return for that, Ichigo tries to raise his lips just a little, just for her.
It will never be a smile, but it will be enough.
Orihime's arm will brush against his just slightly, and little shocks will speed down his back, a heated blush will cover his tanned cheeks in a most frustrating way.
But they'll ignore it. Orihime will look away and point at something completely irrelevant and useless. Strike up a conversation Ichigo doesn't want to hear.
Ichigo will ignore the way his heart beats a little faster when he is around Orihime, the way his hands shake, his teeth grind. How all the little things engulf the big picture.
He was never one for details, but today, her eye's are a different color.
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"So Shinigami, heard ya calling my name last night."
Ichigo's left eye twitches. Here he is, trying not to murder the arrogant asshole, and how does he reply him? Egging him on. Wait, Grimmjow wouldn't know - about the dream...
No, arrancars don't have that ability. Ichigo glances up into those devious shock-blue eyes.
Or do they...
Grimmjow is looking particularly smug this drafty afternoon.
"Were you spying on me, you freak?"
Grimmjow is sitting on Ichigo's desk, long legs outstretched to rest in his chair. "I don't spy." Grimmjow's lips split into a vicious grin. "I stalk."
Ichigo groans, borrowing his head into the soft pillows of his bed. "That's even worse." His body shudders though he is not cold. The thought of Grimmjow ever finding out about such a heinous dream gives him a nasty feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. The stupid arrancar would never let him live it down. He should be over wet dreams at this point. Dammit.
Cracking one coffee colored eye open, Ichigo takes in the Espada's appearance. There is no difference, except for the air of quiet. Grimmjow usually doesn't shut up without some type for violence or sexual act taking place to occupy him. Ichigo finds this extremely weird.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
While he doesn't care about the hollow's feelings or any of that bull shit, he does not enjoy this awkward silence.
"Nothin'."
"Liar."
Grimmjow slinks over to the bed, straddling the orange haired teen. "Problem?"
"Your ugly face."
A fist smashes into Ichigo's cheek, cutting off his soft laughter. Grimmjow frowns and hits him again, pressing down on the now struggling legs under his body weight. Ichigo screams and lurches up, throwing both of them off the bed and onto the hard floor.
His knee gets Grimmjow in the nose, his hand wrapping around the blue haired man's throat. Ichigo smiles slightly, a trickle of blood running from his split lip, courtesy of Grimmjow.
Ichigo can feel the hot erection brushing his own.
Strong arms grab his waist and flip their bodies, Grimmjow staring him down as he begins ripping off Ichigo's shirt, droplets of crimson staining the stark white.
-
When Ichigo wakes up the next morning, sore and bloody, aching all over, he finds nothing beside him. Like every other morning after, this one is no different.
Ichigo's constant frown returns in full force as he limps to the shower, trying to spit out every curse word he can think. He looks in the bathroom mirror, glaring at the reflection of a battered him. His lip is caked in dried blood, scratches of different sizes decorating his chest, arms and thighs. There are bruises under his right eye of every color green imaginable.
Fucking Espada.
His friends have stopped asking him anymore.
They used to crowd around and demand an explanation. Now, there are fleeting glances, some angry, some confused, but no words are spoken. For that, Ichigo is thankful. Telling Orihime, Chad, and Ishida that he lets an arrancar fuck him on a regular basis is not something he wants to talk about when he eats lunch.
Ichigo winces as he brushes his teeth. Even his gums are sore.
Goddamn.
He knows this isn't healthy. Hell this isn't even a relationship. It's give and take and fightfightfight until you die. Until one of them doesn't wake up. Until Ichigo is broken beyond repair.
It hurts, and it destroys.
Until it kills.
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He can't help it. Orihime's lips, they look so sweet, like cherries. He's a guy, he'll be the first one to admit, and while Grimmjow fucking him can feel really good, Orihime's soft skin under his finger tips isn't half bad either.
She is too good for him, he knows. Orihime is untouchable (he is reminded by Kon every other day), innocent in that naive way, but so totally sure of her surroundings. That's what he likes about her.
He feels guilty, maybe a little. He's not committed to Grimmjow, a fucking hollow and he's not in love with Orihime, as she will forever be off limits in his mind. Dirty is a better word. He really doesn't think it's okay to have sex with a man when he's been straight all of his life. It's become such a normal thing.
After school Ichigo is on his way out, but stops at a small tug on his shirt. He turns to find Orihime behind him, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. He tries to smile, even a little bit just for her. Always for her.
"Can we talk?"
Ichigo hears her question, but his eyes are glued to those cherry colored lips, spreading in a quiet grin. Slowly gaining back his intelligence, Ichigo nods, letting Orihime take his arm, and lead him to the court yard, near a few trees to shade them.
She looks up into his eyes, and he knows they are raw and bloodshot from the night before. He has trouble keeping her inquiring gaze until she starts to speak quietly.
She says, "does it hurt?"
And he says, "not now Orihime, not now," in a pleading, whining voice that doesn't belong to him.
A long finger ghosts along his jaw, traces the permanent frown etched into his features, to the ugly bruise right under his eye. She opens her mouth enough for Ichigo to get a glimpse of those pearly whites. She looks like she's about to talk again, but stops herself, turning away from him.
He reaches out to catch her shoulder, but she begins walking away, turning back only to whisper, "don't let him do this, Kurosaki - kun."
Blinking, Ichigo doesn't quite understand.
Does she... know?
He stares at her retreating back, her waist so slender and her hair blowing gently with the breeze.
His heart beat slows to an aching stop and he thinks, he says, he believes, this is hell.
-
"So what's been eatin' your ass lately?"
Ichigo jumps about ten feet in the air, head cracking open and spilling out blood.
Except not really. Ichigo wishes that was what happened. No, as Grimmjow jumps through his window, he bites the inside of his cheek nervously and stares at the man.
"The fuck are you talking about?"
"I don't know, but you're acting weird as shit. Explain."
"Me?" Ichigo mutters, fighting a blush. "I'm not acting weird."
Grimmjow growls and kicks over his trash can. Nothing is inside, thankfully. Asshole.
Ichigo stands, hearing the loud crash of his chair hitting the floor, ignoring it. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"You're my problem, Shinigami. I want to just fucking kill ya and get this shit done with," Grimmjow snarls, all teeth and hard glare. Ichigo tries to stop the wince, but Grimmjow continues. "You're a good lay, I won't lie. But that's all you are. You know that don't you?"
Ichigo understands this is Grimmjow's nature. Cruelty is his forte, emotions are meaningless to him. This relationship - if that's what it is called - isn't based on love. It's based on primal need, animistic instincts.
When Ichigo doesn't say anything, Grimmjow peels back his teeth and lets out a low growl. "What, ya just gonna take this? You fucking bitch, you fucking piece of - "
Grimmjow doesn't finish his sentence, as a fist connects solidly with his chin, a kick in his stomach following up. Grimmjow staggers, spits out blood colored saliva on Ichigo's hard wood floor with a grin, eyes full of fire and passion only felt from a fight.
"Can't you just shut the fuck up for once Jaegerjaques instead of me having to beat your ass first?" Ichigo's voice is deep and void of any readable emotion.
Grimmjow just bounces up, knuckles cracking, body language lethal. He looks very much the cat with his hair standing on edge, ready to do what he was made for. What is courses through his veins.
They fight like lovers lost in a passionate moment, time after time. This is a different kind of way to say I care. Their way.
It's the kind of love that every punch in the face or every drop of blood spilled really means, "hey, I think I want to sleep with you tonight, and you know, maybe tomorrow, perhaps twice."
Ichigo will wake up with a bloody hand, some bruises to add to his aching body, a couple scrapes, and the taste of blood in his mouth.
His took brush will stain red trying to get all the specks out.
But he'll do it again and again and again and aga -
again.
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tbc...
So this is both GrimmIchi and HimeIchi because I can.
Not really though. It's because I love them both, and think it's interesting that Grimmjow and Ichigo's relationship is a complete contrast to Ichigo and Orihime. Hard and soft.
Also, I really wish Grimmjow's name was Grimmjaw. Grimmjow sounds like some hollow style hillbilly. Haha. Just kidding... or am I?