It has been way too long since I've written something. But worry not! Kimiko is back, and she's back with a VENGEANCE.
So, I'm addicted to Bleach. I started watching it a few years ago, stopped in favor of Death Note, then started watching it again once my Death Note obsession died down a touch. I'm honestly shocked that I haven't written anything for Bleach yet! O_O With this one, I tried to keep them mostly in character. Having never written Grimmjow before, I wanted to him justice.
Pairing: Grimmjow X Ulquiorra
Summary: It started with a burning hatred. Slowly, it changed into something Grimmjow hadn't expected it to be.
Warnings: Grimmjow's got a potty mouth! He really likes the F-bomb in my imagination. Also, this scene doesn't go beyond kissing, but it's still YAOI. Boy on boy. Gaymenz.
To state the obvious, this is going to be from Grimmjow's perspective.
Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach….hey wait! I *do* own Bleach! It's under my sink, waiting for the next time I need to disinfect something and kill my nostrils in the process~!
The first time I saw him, I hated him. The feeling rushed through my blood, filling me with an unidentified and unreasonable rage. His very existence pissed me off. Everything about him filled me with a marrow-deep hatred I couldn't explain. I wanted to crush him, but I didn't know why.
The acidic feeling of that hatred filled me so completely, I thought I would explode. I wanted to throw all of my malice, my anger, my complete, unabbreviated fucking loathing at him and watch with sick glee as he melted into an indistinguishable, poisonous, bad memory and existed no more.
I could practically fell my hands at his throat, choking the life out of him.
Maybe it was his eyes. They were bright, practically glow-in-the-dark, greenest fucking green. The color wasn't what I hated. It was what lurked in those eyes. They would darken every time they were laid on me. They would underestimate me. They would see right through me. It felt like my soul was being X-rayed. I couldn't stand the feeling.
But I couldn't deny the shiver that would race down my spine. That wasn't an altogether horrible experience. Once I got used to it, anyway.
I couldn't stand the way he spoke, either. It was too arrogant. If his eyes didn't tell me, his mouth certainly did. And it never hesitated. 'Trash'. His favorite fucking word. By now, I've long since lost count of how many times he'd called me that. 'Trash', like I was something that needed to be put out of his misery. 'Trash', like I was less than worthless.
Maybe he suffered from a lack of creativity. 'Trash' seemed to be the only insult he knew.
As much as I despised the words, the deep timbre of his voice never failed to make me hot, dizzy.
Sometimes, I would wonder what he was. The only thing I could think was that he was a living ice cube with a pulse.
He was cold, calculating. Unfeeling. Nothing seemed to make him feel. There was no anger, no fear. No happiness, no amusement; not even wry or sick amusement. No sadness, no pain. He was a fucking brick wall. His expression didn't change. No shock, no confusion. Brick. Fucking. Wall.
I wanted his anger. I wanted to see a fire lit behind those eyes. I wanted to see a smile, a frown. Something. Anything.
'You should be careful what you wish for.' Truer words were never spoken.
His hands seemed to find my bare skin. Seemed to caress it. I could tell they were Ulquiorra's hands even if I didn't see him. His hands were always cold. Like they were fresh out of the freezer. That didn't stop the shudders from claiming me, but instead, seemed to encourage them. His cold trails left burning need in their wake.
Each feather-light touch sent my body into a frenzy. Sent an odd heat through me. A heat that demanded more of his touch, more of his presence. More. More. More.
I was like cracked-up druggie the way my body demanded him.
Then, one day, it got worse. Much worse. Or much better. A simple meeting of lips. Such a simple touch, yet it set my body on fire. I couldn't name the sensation. I was dizzy, but I wasn't. I was overheated, but I was shivering. I hated Ulquiorra, but I couldn't push him away. I needed this. This touch, this heat, his cold, our breath mingling as we gasped for air. I needed it all.
Finally, I saw it. His cheeks now had a pink tinge of color to them. I felt it. His hands, pressed against my bare chest, were trembling.
More. More. More.
I loved that color in his cheeks. I wanted it to stay there.
I forced our lips together again. I delighted in his sudden inhalation.
His hands ran down my chest almost shyly. It added more fuel to a fire that was past my ability to control.
"G-Grimm…j-jow." His voice was nothing more than a whisper against my lips. I liked the stutter. It proved something. It proved that he could feel.
I needed more.
I bit his lower lip; not too hard. He gasped. His hands clenched into fists. He pressed more of his delicious cold against me.
I would melt the icy exterior until I found the soft, tender, sensitive feeling part of Ulquiorra. I needed it. Why, I didn't know, but I had to find it.
I licked the lip I'd bitten. His back arched, pressing his frozen surface against my heated body. What I did next seemed instinctual. I forced my tongue, my heat, into Ulquiorra's mouth. There, I found a heat that mirrored my own. I'd found his feeling. I was past the ice.
I knew I was right when Ulquiorra pressed his tongue to mine. He allowed me to press him into the wall, allowed me to taste his heat, allowed me in.
I knew then. I still hated Ulquiorra, but I loved the way he made me burn. I hated his eyes, but I loved the way they darkened with some unknown feeling when our lips were pressed together. I wanted to kiss him, but I wanted to kill him.
I hated him, but I loved him.
Aaaaannnnnnd DONE~! This actually turned out a bit darker than I'd planned it to be, but I like it that way. Huh.