Inspiration struck after rereading (again) my favorite GrimmIchi. If you haven't already, look up "Stripped" by Loid here on ffnet. Some parts are so touching it hurts.
Is this hell?
Is hell feeling like he's being ripped apart from within, piece by piece every time pleasure slams deep into his battered body? Like a sword being driven through him, slicing, carving his guilt into his flesh as he arches his back and cries out his passion?
Is hell feeling like he's being squeezed to death, the vice tightening with every little sound he lets slip, every breathy moan of his name as those strong arms hold him close?
Ichigo groans, unable to hold it back no matter how much he wants to. It is too much, too intense, to do anything else. The pressure in his chest so great that his breaths are coming in gasps.
Yet he still craves for more, wants it harder even as he knows this is wrong. His mind is torn one way and his body another. He cannot control the lust coursing through his veins; nor the hate that is crushing him, bit by bit, with every moan, every thrust. Hate for himself, for not being strong enough to do the right damn thing.
He shouldn't be doing this. He should be driving his sword clean through the bastard. But instead he is clinging to him, arms wound desperately around his neck, face pressed tightly against his cheek, the one without the bone-white mask.
Another groan is ripped from the depths of his chest. Almost a sob, Ichigo realized in mortification. But before he can bite his lip to stifle it, another brutal thrust jarrs his body, and this time his head snaps back as he shouts his pleasure.
"Fuck you're loud," his lover grouses. The blue-haired Espada is panting hard too, his muscles bunching and flexing as he slams hard into the writhing body beneath him.
"Shut..." Ichigo snaps brokenly, wanting badly to glare at the asshole but not able to keep his eyes open long enough to do it. "...the fuck up!"
Grimmjow does, by yanking Ichigo's head back up and kissing him.
This. This was what is tearing Ichigo apart. The banter that comes so easily every time they meet. The understanding that passes between them with a single look in the eye.
Why? Why can't he just hate Grimmjow through and through, and not feel these messed up, confusing emotions that makes him both want to kill him and hold him?
And then a perfectly angled thrust sends him spiraling down, down, down, over the edge, over the surging crest of pleasure that is so sharp it hurts. He feels, rather than hear, the deep rumbling moan that slips from the Espada's lips, and a few seconds later Grimmjow pushes in one last time and goes rigid, his fingers digging painfully into Ichigo's skin. Warmth slowly spreads to Ichigo's limbs, as if the power from the Espada is flowing into him through their connected bodies.
Ichigo sighs, suddenly weighed down heavily by exhaustion, contentment, hatred, and most of all, guilt, and he once again wonders.
Is this hell?
THE END.
Oh, and if you are a Kensei/Shuhhei fan (I'm looking at you, Leukone), do check out DaringEMAE's The Wrong Shivers. It's absolutely amazing!