Disclaimer: The plot is mine and the characters are borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.

Author's note: Bleach is an anime that I adore and so I felt like trying my hand at fanfiction. Warnings include yaoi, some dub-con elements, and Grimmjow because he's a warning all his own.

Summary: Szayel Aporro Granz gets a little too involved with his work. A week straight of holing himself up sends Grimmjow to him. And the Sexta is not pleased at all…

Consequences (Part One of Two)

He was so tired; amber eyes barely remain open as fingers push strands of pink hair from his face. Almost done. He just needed a few more minutes and then…

"The hell do you think you're doing?" The sharp reprimand has his head snapping up as he'd look towards the door.

"I…"

"You are a goddamn idiot!"

Despite his state and the vast difference in their abilities, he still bites back, "This does not concern you, Grimmjow, so kindly remove yourself!" The nerve of the blue haired Espada to just waltz right in and…

His mind has little time to register movement and in his exhaustion clarity is slower to pick up on things so it takes several seconds to realize when he has been lifted from his seated position and tossed over the other's shoulder. "Wh-what the hell? Put me down!"

"Be quiet or I'll give you something to whine about!" comes the growled warning. Obviously the Sexta was pissed and that never ended well for the target of his displeasure. Unfortunately, Szayel was too tired to think things through all the way.

"I demand that you put me down right now or so help me…" Whatever else he would have added is abruptly interrupted by a sharp, stinging pain drawing a ragged breath from him. It takes his overworked mind several seconds for the truth to sink in. Grimmjow had just struck him like a disobedient child. Him! Fury fills him and his fingers dig into the male's back. "Get your filthy hands off me right now!"

"Apparently, you ain't listening properly so I'm gonna repeat myself just one more time: shut up and stop fighting with me or you are gonna have far more to regret then merely trying to work your stupid ass to the ground!"

Szayel's eyes narrow at this derision filling him. "You are clearly deranged if you think that I will ever do as you ask especially when you are acting like such a brute. Now put me down, Jaegerjaquez. This instant!"

Of course, he is suitably ignored which in a more stable state would come as no surprise to Szayel. In his current condition, however, that he ends up carried like a sack only to be deposited on a bed is unforgivable. "What is the meaning of this, Sexta?!"

"Shut up!" Grimmjow snarls, "I ain't the moron in trouble here!" This is followed by the male climbing atop the bed so that he's over the other. "The hell were you thinking, idiot?! Even you need a break every once in awhile! You are not indestructible no matter what delusions you have to the opposite!"

Szayel is seriously wondering if he has managed to actually lose his mind as he blinks slowly at the other. There was absolutely no way this was possible otherwise. "I fail to understand how a few hours makes you…"

A harsh laugh escapes the other. "A few fucking hours? Do you think I'd give a fuck…You idiot, you've been in there for a goddamn week straight!"

Oh. Well, that might explain the wrath. He'd lost track of time it seemed. "I was busy! Unlike you brainless idiots, my time is used on pursuits that doesn't involve brawling all hours of the day!"

"Brainless idiot? Do I need to point out you've spent a week not taking care of yourself? Tch, idiot. You'd be only goddamn Espada who would kill himself like that!"

Grimmjow's ire would be amusing were he not so damn close to him. Szayel hated his personal space invaded without his permission. "Whatever your personal issues is with me do you mind getting off? I do not appreciate the closeness."

"Aww, do I make you nervous, Granz?" Tired or not, he was not dealing with this male's penchant for civil disobedience rivaled by none. However, before he can do anything resembling a response, Grimmjow continues with, "And really, it doesn't matter what you say for two reasons: one being that I could snap your scrawny neck without much trouble and two, you're in my place, Octava, which means it's my rules."

Szayel freezes as the words register with him. He was…Confusion fills him which is clearly read by Grimmjow whose expression fills with mirth. "Oh yeah, you and I are going to have a nice…chat before you rest."

This was bad, Szayel realizes as he stares up at the other Espada. He has a sinking suspicion that what was about to transpire was going to resemble very little an actual conversation. Grimmjow was not an eloquent speaker and greatly preferred actions which bode ill for the trapped Espada beneath him. "Grimmjow…" Whatever would have followed is unclear as the other promptly presses a bruising kiss to his mouth. It leaves him laying beneath him silent and startled.

"You finally shut up? Good." Grimmjow grins as he says this; flashing teeth and entirely too much deviant glee. Szayel suspects this is going to go several ways of wrong. The problem is that his body has decided it doesn't know how to respond to his desire to buck the arrogant brute off of him.

When he sees the nails lengthen, however, it is enough to incite a deep sense of panic in him. "Wh-what do you think you are doing?!" There is no verbal answer just the sound of ripping fabric that sounds too loud in his ears and the pressure of sharp nails ghosting over the skin it was revealing.

Syazel wisely stays still undesiring of those nails to mark his skin though the fact that the other was shredding his clothing didn't please him. He'd just gotten to the point where even strong emotions no longer helped. He'd way overdone it. And was paying for it.

Grimmjow seems to enjoy shredding the material; blue eyes taking a manic glint, and Szayel isn't sure how well this actually ends. But he remains still striving not to let the air brushing over his skin unnerve him. Except it did. Then a new problem arises when his wrists are grabbed and shoved above his head followed by a growled, "Move ''em from there and I take 'em off." He swallows thickly sure his eyes are wide as the start of panic sets in but he presses his fingers into the sheets and manages a minute nod to show he heard the demand. All the while his normally eloquent vocabulary is reduced to an internal hiss of, 'Goddammit!' And that was just as bothersome to him; this vulgarity shouldn't be his. The fault lied with the arrogant bastard who was eyeing him intently blue eyes raking his figure hungrily.

He wants to icily demand if he liked what he saw but he fears anything attempted spoken would escape as some choked mess and he refused to sound like he was unnerved to the Sexta even though he was sure Grimmjow knew the sort of effect he was having on him. So instead, he releases his death-grip on the sheets enough to cross his wrists and tilt his head away closing his eyes. 'Just pretend you're elsewhere and you can get through…whatever he has planned. Don't give him the satisfaction of your eyes.'

'Foolish Octava.' That was Grimmjow's bemused thought as he watches him turn his head and close his eyes. 'Do you really think I don't know you're afraid? That you've been afraid since I barged in on you? Ah, Granz, give a predator more credit.' But then he supposed it was the one shield he had to hide behind and he'd not disillusion him this time. Besides half of what he was sure the other feared wasn't what he planned. But he was sure that Szayel would need to figure that out on his own. Until then, Grimmjow was more than happy to just let him keep his gaze averted. It wouldn't remain that way for long though. That much he was positive of.

So instead, he just gazes back over him at his leisure at the expanse of skin splayed before him. It wasn't a normal occurrence; indeed the Octava seemed to like to hide as much of himself as possible in his garments which was a shame in Grimmjow's opinion because he looked exquisite. But he wasn't about to tell the other this, no indeed. Retracting his nails for the moment, he parts the shredded garments to give himself more of a view of his prey. And that is exactly what he was.

Slender but fit, he was deceptively fragile in a sense with flared hips Grimmjow couldn't wait to put imprints of his fingers into. Oh yes, Szayel Aporro Granz was a most inviting prey. And it amused him to just wait because he knew by the obvious tension that the other was preparing himself for the worst and probably trying to wait him out. He no doubt hoped that if he didn't make a fuss or react to him that Grimmjow would leave him alone. His lips curve into a smirk as he finally decides it was time to correct him of that notion.

He reaches with his hand and curls his fingers around the others flaccid cock knowing that would certainly get his attention. And is not disappointed as amber eyes snap open and his lips part. He stares at him as he was not sure what he planned to do and he cannot resist the fanged grin as his hand moves slowly while he tightens his hold stroking. Szayel's back arches and this gasped breath escapes which has Grimmjow repeating the actions for a repeat of that alone. "Wh-what…ahh…are…you…"

"What am I doing?"he asks bemusedly as the other couldn't seem to get words between his panting. "I believe I'm touchin' ya. Say ain't you supposed to be the smart one?" The teasing insult is enough to make the other attempt to glare but Grimmjow heads it off by letting his thumb circle the head knowing exactly what that would do to him. The way his eyes widen and the sharp jerk are absolute treats but what is the icing is the tremulous whine that bubbles from the other who is clearly attempting not to let him know exactly how he was feeling. He just wasn't that good at hiding it considering the exhaustion he'd subjected himself to. So the Sexta continues circling the head with his thumb as the blood rushes filling the organ. The scent accompanying his shifting state has Grimmjow's eyes going half-lidded and him grinning more. "Mmm, Granz, seems like you're a little less nervous and far more interested in our little chat. 'Bout time, Octava."

"Sh-shut up," Szayel grits out as he tries and fails to keep his hips from squirming and pressing closer as his nerves beg for more of that hot friction against them. Damn the Sexta for making him burn like this! Damn him! But what was done was done and he was quite ready to blame it on the fact that he'd spent a week pouring over things and wasn't at his best or most coherent which meant that his defenses were nearly non-existent. Anything was a good excuse to him other than the fact that he was wanting what the other seemed to be offering.

Szayel's issue was that he knew it was a lie that at any second this almost gentle touch would be substituted by the violence that seemed to be their disposition. So he was trying not to get used to it because there was no way this was Grimmjow's intention. Pain was coming. Pain always came.

He was fighting again. Grimmjow could tell by the look in his eyes and why shouldn't he; their entire society was practically based on who could be the most ruthless. He probably expected him to hurt him. And perhaps in other moods, it might be a consideration but not now. Not with him splayed in the tatters of his clothing with the hints of arousal tinting his skin. Slowly, he leans his head down wondering if he was watching his every movement and figuring that he was. His tongue flicks out to lightly taste the leaking head. The salty-sweet taste entices him though it's the sharp jerk and the gasped whine that draws a low approving purr from his throat. Oh yes, he was definitely going to enjoy this.

What in the…Szayel struggles to get his mind to wrap around what the other Espada was doing. And then he repeats it again in order to get the same reaction from him, blue eyes full of a smug glee that he'd rather like to strike off his face but is well aware how badly that might end considering his earlier threat. And to be honest, the Octave is sure that it's more promise than threat. Of course, it's hard to focus too much on that as the licking goes from being light and experimental to long and firm strokes that has him squirming and arching as his breath hitches and his worries become inconsequential to the pleasure flooding his senses. That his legs splay open inviting him to take what he wants isn't any easier considering the fact that being vulnerable with the other is not how he desires to be.

The licks lengthen trailing base to tip and it was hard not to get lost in the pleasure that sparks his nerves because it wasn't something that he was used to; not something any of them truly appreciated. Violence and pain were what they tended to dole out; it seemed their nature to do so. This, however, was an addiction all it's own because of it's sweetness. "Grimm…a-ahh…d-don't….don't…stop…please…" The strangled, choked plea displeases him because it gave the Sexta far too much power and control but it was an unavoidable capitulataion in Szayel Apporo's mind considering the state he was in.

Strangely enough, the pleas earn him far more from Grimmjow than he was expecting and the moist heat that slides over him has his eyes widening probably comically as his breathing hitches violently. He'd just…The damned male had just…

And he couldn't wrap his mind around the others actions. There was no way that this was truly happening because for the other to do such a thing…No, he really had worked himself into a right state to be contemplating Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez with his mouth around him. Had to be.

Except…it was really happening. Fingers dig into fabric above his head as he shifts and makes these embarrassingly needy sounds as the other just wreaks havoc on his senses. And it rises the heat coiling in his stomach to an almost unbearable ache before the bastard withdraws, looking even more pleased with himself at the sound of dismay that escapes him. "Uh uh,"he remarks bemusedly, "Did you forget that this was a punishment, Octava?"

It had escaped him for a moment or two apparently but did the brute really expect anything else considering his state?! However, he knew that he was at fault as well because he should not have lost sight of that fact himself. And it's followed by the nasty voice that warned him this was where it went sideways. Grimmjow had him all but willing to let him do what he wanted; there was no better opening to strike.

And Szayel had fallen right into it without much resistance. How utterly idiotic of him. He lets his eyes close as he strives to regain some control while silently telling himself that everything was fine, that he would be fine. Nothing was going to go so wrong that he couldn't get through it.

Except that wasn't always the case when it came to them. Sometimes letting one's guard down would lead to death if the fool was lucky. Worse if not. And Szayel prided himself on never being in that category. Until now and he wasn't sure he wanted to end up in that category of those who learned this lesson in a most fatal way. "Suppose you might have garbled something to that extent,"he finally says to just fill the silence, "but it's hard to tell with you."

"Oh, so you're a comedian now? That's funny considering you're the one splayed across my bed."

Szayel opens his eyes striving to give him an unimpressed look. "Oh, did you think I was actually interested in what you wanted? My apologies for the miscommunication, Sexta." He makes the title an insult dripping with as much sarcastic venom as his state would allow considering the heat still roiling through him wanting an outlet. And if the other wasn't going to finish him one way, he'd take violence as an acceptable outlet.

Much to his surprise, Grimmjow chuckles in response. "For someone who thinks he's so brilliant you can be most naive, Granz."

"Don't patronize me, Jaegerjaquez," come his warning, "Do that at your own peril, Sexta, but know it does not end well at all."

"Oh, I'm sure in some circumstances it certainly hasn't but that doesn't mean I am afraid of you or what you are capable of. I'm two spots higher, Octava, and more than that I'm pretty sure I know all your tricks by now."

The desire to correct him is something Szayel has to struggle with himself to quiet. It would do no good to give him any further ways to overpower him. Let him think that if he wanted to because the pink-haired Espada had every intention of proving him wrong in the future so it wouldn't do to slip up. So instead, he shifts slightly and strives for a bored expression as he asks, "So, are we almost done here so I can go and actually sleep? As you pointed out earlier; I am in desperate need of rest. And no matter what lies others spew; your company is not at all conducive to anything positive."

The smile he gets in return is positively patronizing. "That so? Hate to disillusion you but we're far from done as you are going to find out."

Of course they were; because this whole situation was growing absurd to him. Deciding that he'd had enough of being played with he releases the fabric and abruptly sits up bringing him closer to the other "I am busy, Grimmjow and I do not, do not, have time for your games today. I don't know who sent you or why and frankly, I don't care either way. I've tolerated your lewd indiscretion long enough. Get out of my personal space and find someone else to harass because I am beyond done with you."

There is a moment where he is sure that Grimmjow had not expected him to be this defiant. It's quickly masked by a cocky smirk before the other reaches and presses his nails against his chest. "That so? You just…think you have the ability to walk out of here without my say-so?"

He could feel the pressure of the others nails and knows that they could sharpen at any moment and pierce into him with a lot of damage if the other so desired. However, that is not enough of a concern of his and he finds himself reaching for his wrist before taking hold and shoving with all the strength he could muster. And it comes as enough of a shock to send him backwards enough for Szayel to get to his feet and make a dash for the door. Practically naked or not there was

no way he was going to stay in there a moment longer.

Knowing the place as well as he does, he manages to navigate to his own quarters without running into anyone making sure to lock the door for good measure. Taking a deep breathe, he pulls the tattered outfit and stalks for the shower intent on getting clean and relieving the heat started by the other. He was going to make the other sorry for even thing to do such a thing to him! He steps in and turns the water on letting the heat unwind the tension the other had risen in him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a soft sigh before letting his hand drop down to encircle hot skin. It elicits a low approving sound from between his lips. Now this was familiar and it was safe because he certainly wasn't a threat to him.

And safe was something that was in small supply in a place like this.

He'd take his time and savor the hot water as long as he could along with the satisfaction that a few orgasms bring. Feeling limp and worn-out, he finally gets out and goes to his bed draping himself onto the bed damp and naked and uncaring about that as he lets himself fade off onto the sleep his body desperately needed.

And he's too deeply asleep to see the lock turn before the door would open and a shape would slip in before closing and relocking the door then resting against the wall, arms-crossed and mouth curved into a fanged smirk that meant nothing but trouble. 'Rest up,' Grimmjow thinks bemusedly, 'Because you are going to need it for what I'm going to do to you.'