The moment I had seen you for the first time, I knew I was in trouble. Fucking, deep trouble. The kind that would tear down worlds and let them crumble to dust – not that kind of trouble were you would get beaten up and just raise again, stronger and wiser. Our first fight had been a minor catastrophe, the second one hardly better, given the fact you almost had me killed with one single hand - literally. Our third one had been the most exciting - so far.
«I... I need a second!», he spat, quite well knowing that he offered the other an opening. One to taunt him and to attack him. And that this would knock him out, definitely. Nevertheless, holding his left side he made a step back and lowered his weapon. Instead of that last blow he expected, his opponent grabbed for the collar of his teared up uniform and pulled him harshly closer.
«What's wrong with you? You hardly pay attention to this fight. Your attacks are nothing and you let your guard down! Do you even know how many times I could have killed you in the last hour?», a deep and growling voice whispered into his ear. Ichigo tried to not tremble, he desperately tried. But the closeness of Grimmjow, his voice, the angry curiosity that vibrated through his words, the smell of sweat mingled with his blood, that all was way too much to bear. At least the former Espada had the decency to overlook his trembling while letting go of his collar. «Eight times, idiot!», he hissed and sat down on a near rock.
«Eight? You're kidding me! No way you could have …». «Eight times, Kurosaki!», Grimmjow interrupted him. When Ichigo raised a single eyebrow in question, Grimmjow sighed annoyed but started to recount nevertheless.
«The first was your stumbling over your own feet.»
Your eyes! They seemed to devour me, strip me down to my soul!
«Second was shortly after that, another trip.»
I was distracted by your laughter, that cackling sound you always let your lips escape when you see an opening in your enemy's defence!
«Third time was when we clashed over there, near the river bank. You were holding your sword to lazy, it could have been an easy thing to get rid off that insanely large butcher knife you call Zangetsu.»
I remembered the day you had splashed some water into your dirty and bloody face, bare torso. Remembered how drops of water rinsed down your back, glittering like diamonds in the sunset. And how I had to suppress the urge to lick them from your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat, the iron of your blood.
«The fourth time was when I had my hand around your throat, you were not even struggling.»
I'd liked that way too much, didn´t I? Not only your skin on my skin, your proximity to my own body, feeling your heat radiating in waves, your reiatsu crushing down on me. No, it was not only those physical aspects that turned me on, but to be at your mercy … shit, am I masochist?
«The fifth time was when you had me on my back, instead of finishing your job you hesitated. A chance to cero you into the next hell. If it were for real.»
Or maybe I'm not a masochist at all. Having you down on your back, getting lost in your eyes, wondering what your lips might taste like - blueberries? Does the skin of a soulform even smell and feel remotely like something living? - Shit I have to stop this thinking!
«All right, all right. Stop it, I've got it!», Ichigo yelled embarrassed, but was interrupted again by Grimmjow.
«Sixth time was 15 minutes ago, when you blocked my blow and I answered with a low kick. You lost your balance which would had given me a most welcomed opening.»
Again, I was distracted by those blue flames you call eyes! It was NOT your kick that led to my unbalance! Damn it! I drown in those eyes!
«Seventh time was just before now.» Grimmjow continued to recall unimpressed each and every little chance to kill the substitute soulreaper.
«That's only seven!», Ichigo pouted embarrassed, coming back to his minds. In a blink of an eye Grimmjow sonidoed behind the substitute soulreaper, grabbed a fistful of spiky orange hair and yanked Ichigo's head back.
«Eight times...», he almost purred into Ichigo's ear while the hot steel of Pantera caressed the substitute's skin. A paper thin cut appeared where the blade had slightly touched his neck and slowly it deemed Ichigo that Grimmjow had indeed hold back.
«Fuck!», he groaned helplessly. A low chuckle reached his ear. «That's all you've got to say?», and this time Grimmjow was definitely purring while he let go the orange hair and sent Ichigo with a kick to the ground. Ichigo's impact was harder than he thought, he couldn't get the much needed air into his lungs for a moment. A deep breath later he wished he had turned on his back to get the air back. The sand and dust he had inhaled burnt in his lungs and he started to cough heavily. When he finally turned on his back he was exhausted, still felt sand between his teeth and was embarrassed to no point.
Meanwhile, Grimmjow had again taken place on the boulder. His right leg pulled up, arm nonchalantly dangling from his knee and with his head slightly turned to one side he looked like a fucking statue. Ichigo groaned and closed his eyes. He had to concentrate on something else, something, anything. Grimmjow was right, he had not paid attention to their fighting, at least not the way one should pay attention when fighting personified destruction. The truly wicked thing about their weekly friendly training sessions – as Urahara called it so freely – was the fact, that Grimmjow did not hold back. Each and every time they had crossed blades so far, the former Espada had aimed for that one last blow. The kill, and Grimmjow insisted that this was the only reason why he agreed to Urahara's terms, was his only goal.
Liar! True, a month ago you would have gladly finished me without any hesitation. You probably would have told Kisuke that I just hadn't been strong enough, smug grin in place. Or not worthy enough to go on with my miserable human existence!
Opening his eyes again, scowl in place, Ichigo turned his head to face the former Espada. «What's going on in that thick skull of yours?». Grimmjow didn't answer, just raised an eyebrow and threw him a sideway glance that could murder someone. The orange haired propped himself on his elbows. «A month ago you would have killed me gladly showing off such a poor performance.»
«A month ago? That´s overstated!», Grimmjow snarled.
«All right, last week then», Ichigo sighed annoyed, rolling his eyes. «So, why didn't you... you know...finished it when I stumbled the first time?»
A pink shade of embarrassment distracted me.
«Or the second time?»
Your genuine smile.
«Why didn't you got rid of Zangetsu and rammed your fist into my chest like you could have?»
You haven't seen me, the other day. I watched you throw some flat pebbles over the surface of the water. Three bounces. Four bounces. And it seemed as if you were lost in time.
«Why didn't you finished me when you had me on my back?»
HOW! How on earth is it possible to show off such an enchanting obedience, yet the same time ooze such an overwhelming dominant reiatsu?
«Why hadn't you used your cero the fifth time?»
You fucking licked your lips! WHY? Why didn't you seized that ONE chance?
«What about the sixth time? Why did you not knocked me out?»
Liquid caramel, that's what I would call the color of your eyes.
«The seventh and eighth times? Why did you hold back? Because that was it, isn't it?»
Are you even aware of what you are doing to me? Do you have a slight idea of what it feels like to have you that close? How I wished, you wouldn't melt so obviously in my grip? As if your very soul longed to be touched by me. And, by all kami, would you stop that trembling, it's getting me hard instantly!
«And what about now? No chance I reach Zangetsu in time», Ichigo asked with a sly smile on his lips, pointing with his chin towards his sword lying several feet away. Grimmjow stared at the mentioned sword, narrow-eyed. That blade had cut him more than once, even now he sported some wounds caused by it. But it had never penetrated his flesh too deep, never sliced him to pieces like others would have done given chances like Kurosaki had had in the past. Looking down to his own weapon, carelessly put aside the rock he was sitting on, he wondered for a second if he had the chance to reach it, if Kurosaki would choose to shunpo his way over here.
«Tsk», a disappointed look on his face, Grimmjow stood up and reached for Pantera. He would not answer such a silly question, or even react on such a poor bait. He was about to tear open a gargantua, when a pebble hit his shoulder blade, hard.
«Is it that boring to fight me? Really? You are the one who agreed to this… whatever it is… and just because I'm distracted by… by some… thing …», Ichigo's stammered ranting was suddenly cut off.
«THING?!», Grimmjow raged. He turned around sharply and threw Pantera careless away. It took him only three steps to assail Ichigo's personal space, to grab again for the collars of his uniform and to pull him closer. Even if that meant he was going to be too close, again. «Dare to call me a THING one more time, and I swear to every fucking living and dead soul I'll rip you apart, piece by piece!» Surprisingly a low chuckle was heard from the orange haired man. Then he gently reached up, wrapped his own hands around Grimmjow's wrist.
You know, don't you?
Grimmjow was stupefied. He did not expected this, did not expected that one single, gentle touch would set ablaze his whole world.
Don't! Don't do that to me!
Cautiously he stepped back while letting go of the fabric between his fingers. The same time Ichigo closed the distance by stepping forward, still holding Grimmjow's wrists gently. «I never would call you thing. You are Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the Sexta Espada. The one Espada who's name I should remember. The one who brought Orihime to me so she could heal me. The one who fought me more than once. The one who told me that it would be our destiny to kill each other, natural enemies that we are. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the one who had the chance to fulfill this exact destiny eight times the last hour. And yet I'm still alive,» Ichigo asserted in a low voice.
Grimmjow's eyes had gone wider with each word that was coming from the orange haired, bowed head in front of him. As long as the substitute soulreaper didn't move his head, as long as this eyes wouldn't burn his soul with just one gaze, Grimmjow felt it relatively safe. He freed his wrists with a sharp pull.
«I'll kill you an other time then, promise!», he snarled and turned around. Placing his foot gently under Pantera's hilt the former Espada kicked the blade up, grabbed it with one hand while with the other torn open the layers between the worlds. «Maybe it's going to be next week, who knows.»
Why wait for next week? You're killing me right now! You know that, don't you?