I got unexpectedly good reviews on the first chapter of this story, which only urged me to write the second one. Here it is! I should really have stuck to my guns when I said that I'd finish my other story first but... Well, I couldn't help myself.
Big thank you to everyone that reviewed!
Enjoy!
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What was he doing here again?
Oh yeah, right. Rukia.
That sneaky little weasel had called the psychologist herself, setting an appointment without asking Ichigo what he thought about it. Maybe she just knew that Ichigo wouldn't call the doctor, which of course she was right about, but hey, let's not make her more arrogant than she already is.
Ichigo was in the doctor's office waiting for the man to come. He couldn't even remember the man's name - he was terrible at remembering names - but he could recall wondering about how the fuck the doctor's surname was pronounced.
Moments passed and still no doctor; Ichigo started to get impatient. He was drumming his fingers on his biceps, his crossed leg moving up and down restlessly in a steady motion. A habit he couldn't let go of.
Suddenly the door was open and Ichigo looked up to see the emerging pseudo-doctor - that's what he thought of psychologists - only to have his heart jump from his chest to his throat.
Holy. Shi-... W-Who... Was he the doctor?
The man was tall, at least 6'4 in all its glory and he supported it perfectly with his perfectly shaped body. Although he was wearing a white button up shirt and a black tie - if you asked Ichigo, he was wearing way too many clothes - Ichigo could see how the cloth hugged his mouthwatering pectorals and biceps. Jesus Christ. Not only that but those miles long, powerful legs clad in offensive black slacks, made Ichigo think that the man looked a lot like those Greek Gods he loved so much.
Ah, it was true. Ichigo was nearly obsessed with the Ancient Greek culture.
After spending his time molesting the godly body in front of him, Ichigo's brown eyes finally settled on the man's face, who by the way was looking straight at him, and his breath got stolen by a pair of intense azure eyes and ... Was that blue hair?
Oh man, the doctor was absolutely made for Ichigo. Blue was his favorite color, blue eyes his greatest weakness and he was a man too... Well, Ichigo was gay to the roots of his hair so... Yeah.
The tall man cleared his throat and flashed a blinding smile that had Ichigo swooning internally.
"Good afternoon. I am doctor Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. You are mister Kurosaki, I assume?"
God, Jesus, Mary, whoever is up there, you were so fucking horny when you made this creature.
The doctor's voice was a crime punished with death. Slow, pleasurable death. It was deep, raspy and - Gawd - so sexy, it gave Ichigo and instant hot flash. He had to blink a few times before he realized he was being talked to.
"U-Uh, yeah," he stated lamely. Great, Ichigo. Really smooth.
The man grinned again and took a step closer to the oranget, his large hand offered for a handshake. "Nice to meet you," he said pleasantly.
Ichigo grasped that tempting appendage, shuddering internally at how warm and calloused it was. Fuck, the doc surely knew the way to a great handshake; firm, strong and confident but Ichigo was occupied with naughty thoughts of how those hands would feel upon his skin.
Shhh, Kurosaki, shame on you. You just met the man!
"Nice to meet you too."
"Take a seat please," the blunet said, motioning to the black leather chair Ichigo had been previously seated on. Wait. When had he stood up in the first place?
Brown eyes followed the eye candy as the man walked around his desk and sat down on his comfy chair. He opened a folder and looked at it, taking a pencil between his fingers and started writing some things down. Ichigo didn't even care about what the hell the man was doing because he was staring at those long, slim fingers wrapped around the pencil, and wished he was that lucky fucking pencil for a few minutes. Even few seconds would do.
"So," the man said and sat back on his chair, getting himself comfortable, "What it seems to be the problem here?"
Ichigo chuckled dryly, his previous sour mood returning to its fullest. "Nothing important. It's just my friend who is overreacting."
"Your friend said you had a rather heated outburst," doctor Jaegerjaques said sternly, his blue eyes intense and serious and Ichigo found himself losing a part of his being in their depths.
"It wasn't that bad," Ichigo muttered, his mind not exactly in his head.
"Mr. Kurosaki," the blunet said, his face getting more and more serious every passing moment, "Your friend also mentioned that you feel miserable. That is not something to be taken lightly."
"Rukia has a big mouth doesn't she?", Ichigo mumbled sullenly, averting his gaze from those penetrating blue eyes. It felt as if the man was trying to dig holes into Ichigo's skull, to read his mind. However the doctor said nothing more, waiting patiently for Ichigo to open his mouth and speak.
The oranget squirmed on his seat, debating whether he should tell the psychologist what his problem really was. He didn't want to do it of course because he didn't want to appear weak or uncool in front of the other man.
Ah, fuck it all.
Taking a deep breath, Ichigo cleared his throat. "I have lost my fire, my interest to write stories," Ichigo admitted sulkily, staring at the knotted hands on his lap, "It kills me that my muse is gone for permanent vacation."
Doctor Jaegerjaques wrote something down on a piece of paper. "Is there a reason why this happened?"
Ichigo snorted. "I don't know sir," he said, "I guess she just did."
The blunet wrote something down once more, then looked up at Ichigo. "If it makes you come comfortable, you can call me by my first name, Grimmjow. 'Sir' sounds peculiar even to my ears," he suddenly said, taking Ichigo all the all off guard.
Call him by his name huh?
Grimmjow... Grimmjow... Oh Grimmjow...
"Alright," the oranget agreed, smiling a little, "I don't know why my muse left Grimmjow."
Grimmjow grinned, revealing a straight line of ultra white teeth, with sharper than normal canines. God, he was so fucking sexy!
"Any unpleasant events happening lately?"
"Not that I know off. Except that I couldn't finish my story."
"But it is done now, isn't it?"
"It is," Ichigo sighed, "But I really hate it. I don't want to do anything with it any more."
"I've read your work," Grimmjow said with a reassuring smile, "Every single story is unique and very interesting. But I always sense a small loneliness coming from your words."
Wait... Wait what? Had he... Had Grimmjow read his stories?! Wh-When? Why? How? Did Rukia told him to? Or maybe he was out of curiosity? Aargh! Not knowing was killing him however, Ichigo was a little embarrassed to ask the man why had he read the stories and whether he liked them or not.
He would just pretend that nothing had happened.
He chuckled instead. "Is it so obvious?"
"Well, I'm a psychologist," Grimmjow noted, "I can tell." Then his face softened slightly as he stared at Ichigo. "So, would you like to tell me why you've been so lonely?"
Ichigo sighed and slouched lower in his chair, looking at the ceiling. He really didn't want to go there, didn't like to appear weak in front of anyone but something about this man made him open up like a book.
"I...", he said and took a deep breath, "I have spent the last three to four years of my life in my house, writing. I never go out, hell I barely even see my family anymore. I lost contact with my old friends. All in all, I'm all by my self, writing stories to please others."
"Why all these happened?"
"It wasn't much in my control to avoid it," Ichigo said and shrugged his shoulders, "I guess I was too caught up in art that I didn't notice it."
Grimmjow wrote another something on his sheet. "Three years is a little long, Ichigo, don't you think?"
Ichigo's mind went blank, dead within seconds. All of insides caught on fire at the mere sound of his name wrapped in that deep, masculine voice. He wanted to shudder, he wanted to get Grimmjow out of his clothes and feel him inside of him, he wanted...
"Ichigo?", asked Grimmjow, confused and a little concerned, "Are you with me?"
Ichigo shook his head, forcing himself to recover from his naughty thoughts. "Uh, yes, sorry. I was working the whole time, so I didn't care so much about the time."
Grimmjow straightened up and cleared his throat. "From what you've said so far I believe that you've lost your fire, as you put it, because you neglected yourself," the blue haired man said seriously, "An emotionally healthy human being needs to interact with other humans. No matter how much one wants to live in solitude, there are very few, or even no one that can withstand it."
"So you're saying that I'm emotionally unstable?", Ichigo asked sarcastically, "I knew that already."
"I did not say such thing, did I?", Grimmjow said, not really finding the humor in Ichigo's statement, "What I mean is that you need to get out, to see the world and interact with other people."
Ichigo snorted and shook his head negatively. "It's too troublesome."
"It's up to you whether to do it or not. It's not my part to force you. But I have a deal for you."
"I'm listening," said Ichigo, his ears perking up in interest. The only deal he wished to have with this man was to sell him his body like Faust sold his soul to the devil.
Grimmjow smiled, apparently amused by his patient's sudden interest. "Do you like to draw?"
Ichigo quirked one of his orange eyebrows. He loved to draw, he drew all the time but what that had to do with his situation? "Yeah...?"
"Brilliant," Grimmjow said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction, "How about we meet twice a week, during which you'll go out and act like a normal person and each time you go home, you draw whatever came into your mind during your escort? And of course, you are to bring the drawings with you so that I can have a look."
Ichigo frowned a little in confusion. "You sure have your own methods, doc," he muttered but nodded nonetheless. It wouldn't hurt to listen to the man. "I'll do it."
The blue haired doctor smiled broadly, completely depleting Ichigo's air supply and stood up from his chair, offering his hand at the oranget.
Whaaaaaat? It was over already? Nooooooo!
"I am sorry, but our time has ended," said the doctor, his eyes apologetic, "I'll be glad to see you though in three days, on Saturday for example. Does it suit you?"
Ichigo stood up and shook the man's hand, willing himself not to whine like a three year old girl that had to leave the park. "Ah yes, it is fine."
"How about we make it five in the afternoon?"
"It's a date," Ichigo accidentally blurted and blushed in mortification when Grimmjow smirked at him. "I meant-"
"Yeah, I know what you meant," joked Grimmjow and winked.
Kill him now! He couldn't take the torture anymore!
Their hands came apart, Ichigo instantly missing the warmth that had surrounded him from the simple touch. Grimmjow escorted him to the door.
"I'll see you on Saturday, Ichigo."
"Yeah," Ichigo muttered, "I'll see you on Saturday."
How could he wait until Saturday?
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If I ever go to a shrink, I want him to be just like Grimmjow.
I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter! I certainly had a lot of fun writing it!
Queen.
