Disclaimer: I do not own the Characters or Bleach who were created by Kubo Tite. If I owned bleach then the story would be going a lot diffeently
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Ichigo smiled a small, almost invisible, smile. It was just a slight twitch of his lips, but it was still an expression of contentment—maybe even happiness.
Happiness that he hadn't felt in quite a while.
Five months to be exact.
Today his boyfriend was supposed to be coming back from a business trip—something about starting up a partnership with this other company a couple cities away, but Ichigo wasn't really listening at the time, because he was too busy waiting for his boyfriend to finally walk out the door.
Let's just say they didn't part on good terms.
Not that that was a big surprise, since they were normally at each other's throats. They couldn't be in the same room for long without breaking something. But that's how their relationship started, and they, not so secretly, enjoyed the roughness of it.
However… the past couples of months, right before that asshole left for his trip, he'd been acting more hostile than usual. Ichigo tried to avoid him when he got in those pissy moods, but that was nearly impossible when you lived in the same apartment.
Along with the glaring, punching, and constant name-calling, the man was getting rather forceful… sexually. Ichigo had tried to fight him off a few times—not that he minded getting laid every once in a while, but there were times when he honestly just wanted to sleep. His boyfriend hadn't cared though.
That was part of the reason why Ichigo couldn't wait for him to leave.
His step-brother, Renji, had asked him time and time again what was wrong, especially when he saw the bruises that would occasionally decorate Ichigo's face and wrists, but Ichigo refused to tell anyone about his boyfriend. He knew that his family and friends wouldn't approve of the man, so he kept everything a secret.
A stupid, dangerous secret.
But now that he's had time to relax the past three weeks, Ichigo was starting to miss the bastard.
He flicked his doe-brown eyes towards the clock above the stove.
6:30.
Good. He still had time to finish the cake.
His boyfriend would be home any time now, and since Ichigo was feeling uncharacteristically chipper that day, he decided to make a welcome-back dinner. It seemed like an excellent idea, especially since things had been really tense between them lately.
Ichigo had tried to call the man a couple times last week, but he'd only gotten the answering machine. Then, whenever he came back from work or his morning run, his house phone would say that he missed a few calls—all from that man.
Oh well.
The smile on Ichigo's face grew as he put another teaspoon of vanilla in the bowl of homemade whipped cream. He stirred the ingredients together and then dipped his finger in to test-taste.
His whole mouth buzzed from the sweet-flavor, making him chuckle.
Now for the Oreo crumbs and then he could just put it in the fridge for a little while.
After about an hour, Ichigo was completely finished setting up the table. Sitting on either side were two plates and bowls. Placed in them was his lover's favorite meal. A medium-rare steak with A1 sauce, baked potato stuffed with cheese and bacon-bits, and, to top it off, was the Oreo cake—which was still somewhat chilled from the fridge.
Ichigo looked at the clock in the kitchen again.
7:40
The bastard should've been home by now.
Ichigo shrugged, thinking maybe there was traffic or perhaps he got caught speeding… again.
How wrong he was.
Ichigo sat at that dinner table all night, watching as the once steaming steak and potatoes turned cold. The cream on the cake began to turn yellow-ish from sitting out so long and the moon was already spilling light into the room.
After about four hours, you'd think Ichigo would give up.
But no.
He sat there stubbornly, stewing in his anger, which gradually rose every lonesome minute. Humans have their limits, and as soon as his anger reached its boiling point, it was as if a strong wind came and blew it all away. Everything. Ichigo just felt… nothing now.
Letting out a long sigh, Ichigo got up and started clearing the table.
He barely touched the food, but he didn't feel all that hungry anymore.
'I should've known this would happen. The bastard probably isn't coming back…'
Just as that thought blossomed in his mind, making fields of disappointment and sadness flourish within him, a sound came from the door. It sounded like it was being unlocked.
Ichigo shook his head and continued into the kitchen, debating whether or not he should pop the steak in the microwave or just wrap it up and toss it in the freezer. He was just about to heat up the food, but he paused when he heard heavy footsteps, and then a loud BAM as the door was slammed shut.
Well that wasn't a very good sign.
He listened as the footsteps got closer, but he still only felt emptiness, that is, until his nose caught the scent of booze. That's when all of his anger came flooding back.
Ichigo spun around and glowered towards the familiar figure towering over the dinner table. The man looked like shit. His hair, which was usually all over the damn place, was plastered against his forehead, with what smelt like sweat. His suit, once clean and wrinkle-free, was now all rumpled and torn in some places. There was a bruise forming around his sharp jawline, but it was barely visible beneath the dirt and unshaven stubbles.
Normally, Ichigo would've run to his lover and asked what the hell happened, but the all-too familiar item in the man's hand kept him rooted to the spot. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
Deep blue eyes stared blankly at the ruined cake while auburn eyes shifted around the kitchen nervously.
"W-welcome back..." Ichigo mumbled, but he received no response.
Maybe he didn't say it loud enough.
"Grimmjow?" He called out attentively, trying to rein in his anger. This time the blue eyes snapped towards him. They were filled with some unknown emotion that Ichigo couldn't quite pinpoint. Gulping down his anxiety, Ichigo continued talking in a calm voice. "You're home pretty late…" Grimmjow still wasn't responding, so Ichigo kept talking. "So how'd the trip go?"
Ah shit. He shouldn't have asked that.
Rage morphed onto the man's face: blue eyes narrowed and upper lip rose into a snarl.
Ichigo flinched when Grimmjow suddenly chucked his bottle towards the living room. A couple of crashing sounds told him that their television just got destroyed. Grimmjow wasn't finished though; He turned back around and gripped the bottom of the dining table, and with one strong sweep, it was also flung towards the living room, crashing right into the couch.
The cake smeared all over the carpet.
Grimmjow swayed drunkenly on his feet as he glared at him, anger still burning fresh.
It was going to take a lot to calm the bastard down.
"You…" Grimmjow whispered harshly, catching Ichigo's attention. He wasn't snarling anymore, but there was a frown plastered on his lips. "Ya'anta know… how't wen'…?" It was hard to understand some of his drunken, garbled words.
Ichigo tried not to say anything. He wanted to be as invisible as possible.
"Fuckin' Aizen sent meh all da way ta tha' shithole city ta m'ke a deal wiff tha' Kuchiki prick." Even just saying that name seemed to feed his anger. "Da asshole made me do all kindsa shit… li'e babysittin' 'is lil' sister… an' pickin' up 'is fuckin' groceries. Fine… I did it, 'cause I fig'red it would make'm agree ta work wiff us… but da asshole jus' used me!" Grimmjow roared and he picked up one of the fallen chairs and threw it towards Ichigo. The orange-head was quick to dodge it.
The chair whipped past him and smashed right into the microwave, making both things tumble to the floor in a broken heap.
Grimmjow was usually pretty bad when he got angry, but when he was drunk and angry… then it was best to be far, far away.
Ichigo still didn't say a word as the panting man stormed towards him. Ichigo was cornered. There was no where to escape to, and it was beginning to scare him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and flinched when he heard Grimmjow slam his hands on either side of his head. Ichigo turned his head away stubbornly when he felt Grimmjow's lukewarm breath ghost over his lips. It reeked of every kind of alcohol known to mankind.
"Ichigo… Look't me…"
When Ichigo refused to look at him, Grimmjow growled and back-handed him right across the jaw, making Ichigo's head snap to the right and smack into the wall. When he still refused to look towards Grimmjow, the man wrapped a hand around the smaller male's throat. Ichigo choked on his next breath and he reached up to try and pry the hand away, but it was no use. Grimmjow's fingers clenched down hard enough to make bruises and then he used his grip to lift Ichigo off the ground and slam him back against the wall.
Ichigo tried to kick the man away, but Grimmjow quickly maneuvered himself between the flailing legs.
After five agonizingly slow seconds, Grimmjow finally released him. Ichigo slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, and then he gently grasped his own neck as he coughed and gasped in mouthfuls of air. He looked up at Grimmjow with wide eyes.
"You—," Ichigo paused when he had to cough again, "—asshole!"
Grimmjow frowned at that and glowered down at him, but then his mouth twitched up into a large smirk.
"Ya really gonna go there, Ichi?"
Ichigo sneered back up at him, "Bite me."
Okay now he was just antagonizing the drunk maniac, but he wasn't going to just sit there and take everything like some helpless dame.
Still smirking, Grimmjow bent down and picked him up by the collar of his red, button-up shirt. Ichigo growled and punched the asshole right in the gut. He stumbled back a bit, giving Ichigo enough footing to step into another good swing—this time hitting Grimmjow right on his already bruised cheek. He went to punch the jerk again, but Grimmjow grabbed his wrist just before he could. The bastard was surprisingly coordinated for an intoxicated son of a bitch.
"Let me go!" Ichigo snapped as he tried to wriggle free, but he couldn't. Grimmjow let go of his shirt to grab his bright orange hair instead. Ichigo hissed when he felt blunt nails dig into his scalp. "Ah!" Ichigo yelped as Grimmjow started dragging him along, and he tried to pull himself away, but it hurt too much. Grimmjow paused by one of the kitchen drawers. Ichigo couldn't see what the bastard grabbed because his head was being forced to look towards the floor, but he knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.
"Quit strugglin'…" Grimmjow grumbled as he started walking again.
"Fuck you!"
The bluenette chuckled at that and he said something that made Ichigo's blood run cold.
"We'll get ta tha' in a sec."
Ichigo's auburn eyes widened and he started clawing at the man's arm. "No! Dammit! S-stop!"
But it was no use.
Grimmjow dragged him into their bedroom and slammed the door shut; engulfing them in complete darkness, save for the gentle glow of the moonlight. It made everything in the room shine serenely.
How ironic.
((For those of you uncomfortable reading rape-ish scenarios, you can skip this part))
Ichigo gasped as he was tossed, face-first, onto their king-sized bed. As soon as he stopped bouncing he tried to scurry away, but he wasn't fast enough. Grimmjow quickly climbed atop him, pinning him down with his body. Ichigo squirmed and tried to elbow the bastard, but Grimmjow took hold of his wrists and started dragging them upward until they were right beside the headboard.
Oh shit.
Ichigo struggled, kicked, and screamed, but this only seemed to amuse the bastard.
The poor orange-head watched feebly as Grimmjow tied his wrists into the decorative holes that covered the headboard. He tied him with what looked like metal wire. That's probably what he grabbed in the kitchen.
Ichigo could already feel his hands going numb, and his wrists felt like they were on fire; Grimmjow tied it way too tight, and if Ichigo tried to move his wrists at all, it would send pain shooting up and down his arms.
Ichigo swallowed a sob when he felt Grimmjow grip his hips and raise them until his own knees could keep them propped up. Next thing he knew, his jeans and briefs were tugged away from his body, leaving his ass bare in the air.
"Grimmjow… please… don't." Ichigo begged, but it only fell on deaf ears.
Guess he really was a helpless dame.
He listened tensely as Grimmjow began to undress. He could hear as the clothes fell to the floor, one by one, and he chocked down another sob when the sound of a zipper reached his ears.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
The only warning Ichigo got was the feeling of one hand gripping his hip, and then it happened. He shoved his face against the pillow and bit down on it to keep in the scream that wanted to rip from his throat. Grimmjow had just shoved his dick right inside him. Ichigo could feel himself stretching forcefully around Grimmjow's girth.
The bastard didn't show any mercy. He just pulled out and then pushed right back in, keeping up a fast and brutal pace.
Ichigo didn't hide the sob this time. Tears started to flow freely now, but it didn't matter—Grimmjow just kept pushing himself into Ichigo's bleeding entrance. The hand gripping Ichigo's hip tightened and then the other hand grabbed his thigh, pulling it so that his legs were spread wide apart.
Ichigo gasped when Grimmjow's teeth dug into his already bruised neck.
It was all so painful.
Not even his prostate could help ease this kind of pain.
The torture went on for another ten minutes—usually the bastard could go for a good forty to fifty minutes, but that's what happens when you're completely hammered.
Once Grimmjow was finally finished, he pulled out of Ichigo and promptly fell onto his side, passed out. Ichigo hiccupped as more tears soaked his pillow and he slowly, carefully laid his lower half onto the bed, hissing in pain when he moved around too much. Looking up, he noticed that his wrists were bleeding from where the wire bit into his skin.
It took a while for Ichigo to finally fall asleep like that.
((It's safe to read now))
When he woke back up, he was surprised to find that he was untied and lying under a clean blanket. Blinking, he quickly sat up, but regretted it when pain flooded his whole body. His ass stung, his back was soar, his hips and neck were throbbing, and his wrists still felt like they were on fire.
Anger.
That's all Ichigo could feel. There was also frustration and disappointment, but he was mostly filled with pure fury.
Grimmjow had never done something like that before.
Yes, he'd been rather forceful lately, but it was always still sex. It was never rape.
He ripped the freshly washed, fluffy blanket away from his naked body (he had no idea where his shirt ran off to) and stomped… well more like limped to the bathroom.
In his fury, he completely missed the bottle of pain-killers and a short note resting on the bedside table.
TBC