A/N: Once again this is based on some of the situations I've had to deal with as a pet. This one is a mash-up of several different situations though, so it's slightly more fiction than the last chapter, but no less real. As for the websites Renji is directed to look at, PM me and I'll gladly point you in the same direction Ichi has pointed our lovely redhead. This is also a bit longer than the other chapters, but it needed it. The rules listed are paraphrased from Master Dale's Ten Golden Rules for Negotiations and the other conditions of Ichi and Grimm's relationship are things that I keep very close to my heart as the most important part of every relationship: Honesty (even in the face of pain), Loyalty (which is not the same as monogamy), Health (in this case managing Ichi's PTSD), Neutrality (no matter what the conflict, it can be discussed rationally and maturely), and finally Love. Also, see if you can find the hints to one of my other favorite boys. He's not mentioned by name, but he is mentioned. All in all, enjoy, minna! Ja ne!


Blearily he opened his eyes, gave a yawn and stretched. His back twinged, and his leg spasmed, making him curl around himself, gasping in pain. He knew, in the way that all who have been to that place and back, that he was alone, in his own bed, and that it was the middle of the afternoon. It was raining. He could hear the drops against his window across the way, even though he couldn't see them. Running his tongue over his teeth and smacking his lips a few times, he realized this was going to be one of those days.

Master was working, he didn't know where or what, just that he was unavailable for most of the day. But this was a day where he just needed to be taken care of in the ways only Master knew how. Days like this tended to make him surly and waspish, snapping at every little thing. He tried to control it, but Renji would say something, or Ishida would do something and he'd just bark back out of his own frustration at being alone.

Lighting a cigarette, he decided he was hungry, a gnawing sort of feeling that left him craving things he knew they didn't have. So, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants anyway, and left his room in search of something that would fill the void he knew wasn't really hunger.

Chad was on the couch, watching something about the weather. Ishida was in the kitchen—oh lovely. And Renji was on the phone with one or the other of his twins, talking animatedly about money. Yup, simply wonderful day.

Chad met his eyes and they nodded at each other, needing no words. Before meeting Grimmjow, if the big Latino had been at all gay, Ichigo would have dove right for him, but he wasn't. So, the best he could provide was that sense of steadfast nakama. On a day like today, it just wasn't enough.

Skirting Renji as the redhead flung his arm out wildly, the ginger ducked into the kitchen to stare mindlessly into the pantry. Rice, pasta, beans, a couple of boxes of half-finished cereal…absolutely nothing that sparked his interest in a way that would satisfy the craving inside. He sighed, and then his eyes landed on a box of mint tea that was one of the few indulgences he imported to their cabinet. It wasn't supposed to be there. It was supposed to be on top of the refrigerator where he'd put it…again.

"Would you people stop puttin' my tea away?" He muttered, clenching the butt in his teeth as he fixed the problem.

"What?" Ishida looked up from his papers. Apparently it was bill day, because he was doing money figures too—great.

"My tea." Ichigo held up the box, knowing his tone was too sharp, but unable to correct it. "I don't want it in there. I don't want to have to—"

The brunette cut him off, looking back down at his papers dismissively. "Then find a place to put it, because I keep tripping over it."

"No!" He glared, now irritated further by having been interrupted.

"Geez, dude, stop yellin'." Renji entered the kitchen with a raised eyebrow.

Ichigo felt his own twitch and forced himself to take a slow drag on the cancer stick. He hadn't been yelling, he thought. He was painfully aware that he was in one of those moods, and that his tone had been too sharp. How many times did he have to explain that he didn't have any control over it sometimes? He was working on it, and it only happened on days like this.

"What's the big deal about it anyway?" The redhead went on, oblivious to the storm brewing underneath the orange bangs.

The veteran spun on his good heel, looking back into the pantry, "Don't worry 'bout it."

It was loaded, and a very feminine statement to make, but the coil of venom wrapped in his belly told him under no uncertain terms that if he didn't stop talking right then he'd have to find someplace else to live because the others would wind up under his temper with no chance of fixing the situation. But loveable, wonderful Renji, just couldn't take the hint.

"Alright. Fine. It's not like ya can explain anythin' wi'out him 'round anyway."

His whole body twitched, from his chin down his shoulders and through his hip bones. Petulant, insinuating, and demanding. The tone fed the viper inside. It was hissing, writhing, and fighting him. He actually bit his tongue to try and keep it under control, but this had been growing. Ever since the night when he'd been punished for dancing with that Tsukishima guy, Renji had been irritated with his Master. As if the incident had been the blunette's fault rather than Ichigo's. On top of that it wasn't like he had been caned, or whipped. He'd just come home two days later, walking a little funny and covered in bruises.

He'd tried to explain that they were love marks. That the lines around his wrists and ankles were from the cuffs he wore. That the welts were from hot wax. That the marks along his collar line were love bites. And that the scratches on his back were from Grimmjow's nails. But the redhead would have none of it. He was dead set convinced that, in spite of the whole thing having been his idea, Ichigo being abused by this guy.

"That's it isn't it? Ya don't know how ta act wi'out him anymore. He's got ya so wrapped up in this submission thing he has ya do that ya can't think fer yerself anymore." Renji was pushing him. "Ya put that fuckin' collar on an' now yer somebody else. Ya may come back here ta sleep sometimes but every other wakin' moment yer over there, with 'im, doin' God only knows what. An' when ya do come back, yer covered in these!"

He felt Renji grab his wrist where a fading yellowish-green line was all the physical reminder he had of his last scene with his Master. How dare he touch those!? How dare he snub them!? Ichigo had earned those marks. He fought for and earned every wonderfully aching joint! The ginger ripped his hand away.

"Don't." He growled.

"Why not? 'Cause it hurts? 'Cause only he's allowed ta manhandle ya?" The redhead ranted.

Ichigo pulled away and tried to leave the kitchen. He didn't want to do this. Not today. Not when he already felt like he was going to bite someone's head off, but the larger man wouldn't let him.

"No. You need ta talk ta me."

"Renji, let him go." Ishida tried.

The redhead wheeled on their roommate. "No! He keeps avoidin' me. We're s'posed ta be best friends, but ever since he came back from—"

"Don't you dare!" Ichigo snapped, pointing at the other with his cigarette. That was it, it was loose now. "You, of all people, should understand. You, with your crazy hair, and non-traditional career choice, and your twins! Renji, you're fucking twins! How dare you question my lifestyle!?"

"He's hurtin' you!"

"Not as much as you are!"

They were actually yelling now. In each other's face, eyes blazing, fists clenched, and trembling. Ichigo turned away first, trying to get that poisonous snake in his belly under control again by sucking on his cancer stick. But Renji took it as further sign of his sublimation.

"See! Ya can't even look me in th' eye anymore! Yer so 'well-trained' an' such a 'good boy' that ya can't even stand up fer yerself. What happened to th' guy I knew in high school?! Ya'd swing first an' ask questions later! Years ago I'd be on this floor by now an' Ishida would be bitchin' 'bout th' table bein' cracked!" The tattoo artist was ranting again. "But, no! Now ya back off. Now ya run away. Now, yer gonna storm off ta yer room, get dressed an' leave 'stead'a facin' this."

The ginger trembled, rage making his whole body shake. His nails carved crescents into his palms, and his stance shifted to take the weight off of his bad leg. The worst part was Renji was right. He didn't do conflicts anymore, but there was a very good reason he didn't. He just couldn't put it into words that the redhead would understand.

"Yer thinkin' 'bout it right now aren't ya?!" He felt Renji poke his shoulder. "Yer debatin' whether ya c'n get past me, ta yer room an' out th' door b'fore I catch ya." His shoulder was jabbed again.

"So what if I am?" He asked quietly, dangerously.

"Renji…" Ishida tried again.

Cinnamon glared at indigo. "Stay outta this, Ish'da." His accent always got worse when he got upset. "Th' subby boy's gotta remember who he was b'fore that blue-haired fucker came inta his life!"

"This IS who I was before!"

Ichigo tucked his cigarette firmly in his teeth and launched himself at Renji. They landed in a heap on the floor, the ginger straddling his waist, one fist clenched in the ridiculously tie-dyed tee-shirt the redhead wore, the other poised, trembling behind his head—a non-verbal dare the he be pushed further.

"Go on! Do it! Hit me, ya wimp! Or are ya that much of a pansy!?"

The viper snapped and Ichigo's fist flew before he had any conscious control on it. His knuckles met flesh and after the first, came another, and another. Somewhere in the background both Ishida and Chad's voices tried to reach him but he couldn't understand their words for the blood rushing in his ears. He felt a strike across his temple and they rolled, but he kept the momentum going so that his shoulder slammed into the wall. He was back on top. The body under him tried to buck him off, but he locked his knees, the turn in his left leg good for that, if nothing else. Though he'd pay for it later, he knew objectively, as he pounded again into the redhead.

Then came a sound that cut through everything, "ENOUGH, PET!"

The ginger froze, hand halfway to meeting the pulverized jaw, and he looked up into the doorway of the kitchen. Standing with a deep glare on his face was Master, hands in his pockets and fire in his eyes. A chill ran down his spine and he looked away. He should be whipped for this. Caned, at the very least. He deserved it, he knew. He'd lost control. He didn't even have to look at Renji to know he'd broken the redhead's nose, split his lip at least twice and his eyebrow in a couple of places. He felt the beginnings of a black eye and was pretty sure he wouldn't be the only one.

Hunching his shoulders, he climbed slowly to his feet, keeping his eyes on the floor and sucking on the nearly finished cancer stick as Ishida pushed past him with towels and a bottle of antiseptic wash. The pre-med student went straight to work cleaning up Renji's face. There was crunch and a yell of pain that confirmed Ichigo had broken his friend's nose. He flinched as though he had been the one in pain, and bit his lip, his fingers fidgeting and his toes curled.

"Talk." Grimmjow said simply.

"He…he thinks you're abusing me. He won't listen. I…can't explain it the right way to make him understand." Ichigo couldn't look at his Master.

This was why he avoided confrontation anymore. Because he knew he had the strength and knowledge with which to seriously hurt someone. And that coil of temper, that had always been his go to solution growing up, tempted him to use that knowledge in the worst ways.

He just didn't understand why he couldn't make one of his best friends see that he submitted willingly, and that in his submission he found the freedom from not just his worries and the symptoms of his PTSD, but also from the other things he hadn't even realized were weighing on him. That deliberate power exchange took all of the burdens and responsibilities he had and lifted them for a while. It was the outlet he'd always been forced to create within his own mind for most of his life, but now? Now he really did have someone he could give control to, someone he trusted implicitly to use that control to make him feel good, someone he loved more than he had ever loved anyone else.

Today, though, he'd let Renji jeopardize that. Because if he couldn't defend himself among his friends when they didn't understand, what hope did he have of defending himself against the world of Nillas that wouldn't understand? His breath hitched, and his face flushed. His thoughts circled around the idea that Master would take back the training collar, and his chest clenched so hard it hurt.

Outside of him, Renji sat up against the wall, holding a paper towel to his nose where it was still bleeding. Ishida was stitching the split over his eyebrow, with a dark glare, and Chad stood behind Grimmjow in the doorway, also looking at the redhead in disappointment.

"You had to push him. You couldn't just leave him alone?" Ishida tugged the last stitch a little harshly, making the tattoo artist hiss.

"M'sorry. He jus'…I'unno…he's al'ays broody an' mopin' when he ain' here." Renji pointed with his foot.

Grimmjow's frown deepened for a minute, but he didn't say anything. He was watching his pet. All of their hard work seemed to drain out of him. The blunette could watch the gorgeous ginger close himself off, as he unconsciously curled in on himself physically. He'd be lucky if he could get more than one word answers out of him for a week after this if he didn't act quickly. He snorted derisively and groaned internally when his pet flinched.

"You really think Grimmjow's abusing Ichi?" Chad's voice was also slow and deep.

The redhead couldn't look at anyone in the room. "No…I'unno…whad'am I s'posed ta think when he comes home all cover'd in bruises an' welts?"

Cerulean eyes slid over to the beaten up form on the floor, "Have ya done any research at all inta BDSM, Red? I know Kitten asked ya to."

"I haven' gotten 'round ta it." Renji mumbled, thoroughly embarrassed.

"That is your problem then, numbskull!" Ishida stood up abruptly with a scoff. "Your ignorance knows no bounds. How you manage to keep those two entertained with your miniscule intelligence is beyond me." He looked over his shoulder while reaching up to put the first aid kit back above the fridge. "And that, my dear ignoramus, is saying something."

The redhead pouted for a bit, everyone in the room falling silent, though Chad's disapproving presence made the air uncomfortable for the large man on the floor. A small, almost inaudible noise brought Grimmjow's attention back to his pet, and he snorted again.

"I have somethin' I hafta do. Red," He turned to make sure he had the tattoo artist's attention, "I want ya ta hobble yer sorry ass over ta that computer, go ta th' links Kitten gave ya an' not leave it 'til ya've read all uv'em from homepage ta end. Capice?"

For a moment, Renji looked like he wanted to object, like he was going to give back one of his 'yer not the boss'a me' type speeches, but instead he swallowed, pushed himself up from the ground, and nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

"Good. Now, I need some privacy, if ya don't mind." The blunette raised an eyebrow at both Ishida and Chad, not that he really needed to.

The pre-med student was back at his table, his entire attention on his papers again, but he gave a dismissive wave of his hand without looking up. The other simply stepped out of the way, fully aware that the Master and pet needed to be alone, and the best place for that was the ginger's room. With an appreciative nod, Grimmjow turned to walk out of the kitchen.

Taking one of Ichigo's hands, he spoke, a bit more gently. "Come, pet."

The ginger followed behind him, quiet but for the unconscious noise of his breathing, until the bedroom door shut behind him. Then he spoke very softly, not really wanting to ask, but needing to find out without too much preamble.

"Are…are you gonna take my collar back?"

He still couldn't look at the man that was the center of his world. He couldn't see the disappointment, the disgust, he was sure was marring the blunette's handsome features. He didn't want to hear the tone of failure in that sinful voice that commanded his very soul. He knew what was coming, and he physically braced for it, wincing in a way he never did with any other form of reprimand he'd ever received in the almost year they'd been together while stubbing out the butt of his cigarette between his fingers to stick it in his soda can-turned-ashtray.

"Why would I do that?" Grimmjow snorted for a third time, and Ichigo's head whipped up, dumbfounded.

"B-but I just…h-how…wh-what?"

He couldn't wrap his mind around it, and he only vaguely acknowledged that his Master beckoned him over to the bed. Then those amazingly powerful arms were wrapped around him, and he was buried in the heat and scent of his Dominant. He closed his eyes, the tension in his body beginning to drain way by just being in physical contact with the blunette.

"Ya lost yer temper. From what I've been told, ya held out a good bit too. So, what d'ya think ya did that would be so heinous that I'd take back my tag?" The words were vibrations through his skull as he contemplated how long that meant he'd been out of control.

"Because I lashed out. He accused you of beating me into submission. He said that I wasn't myself anymore. He insulted you, lumping you in with those Nilla wannabes who hide in the lifestyle to prey on willing subs for victims. Like what happened to your sister." Ichigo shivered, curling closer to his Master.

Grimmjow gave a growl at the mention of Nel's abuse, but shoved it aside so he could focus on his pet. "So, basically, ya defended me, an' when he wouldn't back down ya broke his nose. Right?" The ginger nodded, and the larger man took it as a sign to continue. "How is any o' that part o' what we talked about as deal breakers a year ago?"

"It's…not?"

"That's right. It's not. Remember our deal breakers, Kitten?" The blunette was running his hand along Ichigo's back now.

"Nothing that breaks the Ten Golden Rules." He was having a hard time concentrating and staying focused with the way his Master was beginning to trigger his body's responses.

The rumbling voice was in his ear now, commanding with absolute control. "Meaning?"

"I am still an adult and you cannot take away my rights, even when I submit to you. Abuse is never part of the equation."

Grimmjow's mouth was on his ear, "Go on."

"We build on what we've done before, starting small and growing as we become closer without expectations that either of us can achieve something beyond our current limits." He shivered, the teeth at his pulse point creating a counter-focus in his mind.

"N-never forget where the door is, and that n-no matter how deep into a scene we are, we can still both use it." His Master's strong hands turned him so that he was facing out into the room, nestled in the blunette's lap.

"Explicitly define everything, so there are no misunderstandings because one of us thinks something means something other than what the other one thinks it Mmmeans." He moaned a bit as Grimmjow kneaded his thigh muscles, pulling his legs apart to dangle on either side of the powerful set below him.

"Keep goin', Kitten. Yer doin' great." Came the rumble into his back from where the words reverberated in the blunette's barrel chest.

"D-define our limits. Training may be used to expand them, but we're both aw-ware of them." One of those strong hands moved up to rub across his lower belly, slow, heavy circles that made his spine melt. It stopped when he didn't continue, and he almost whined, "We are equal. Even in scene, we are equal. You control me because I want you to, and for no other reason."

"Mmm. I like that one, pet. Keeps me rememberin' just how lucky I am ta have ya." The massage started up again, and behind him Grimmjow's breathing was picking up a little.

"Instinct is extremely importa-ah-ant." His hips bucked as both hands dove into his sweat pants to rub the insides of his thighs skin-to-skin. "If a scene feels wrong, or negotiations feel wrong, then use the door, no matter who feels wrong about it. Ah…M-Master…Ngh…"

"Jus' a bit more, pet. C'mon." The larger man encouraged.

"N-no coercion. No ulti-timatums. B-both are signs of abuse." His manhood was pressing against the fabric of his pants now, the gentle touching and working triggering other more physical reactions on top of the mental release his Master provided. His eyes fell closed and he moaned loudly, finishing the list was going to be difficult, no matter how much he wanted to.

"That's eight. Two more."

"Nyah…" The hands stopped, both sets of thick knuckles just brushing the sides of his shaft. He panted harshly, "Ma-make or b-break i-issues al-always break th-the deal, because th-they're ulti-ultimatums. We should b-both use th-the door with n-no hard f-feelings. Mmmm…Master…"

"Ya c'n do it, pet." The lips were on his neck again, but those heavy hands still weren't moving.

"B-BDSM is ab-bout fulfillment…Ngh…" He tried to buck against the tiny sensations, and found that he couldn't. "We w-work t-t'gether ta…ta-t'wards each other's h-happiness…Ah hahng…"

His head pressed back against his Master's shoulder, the blunette's mouth nipping along his trapezius muscles, while thick, strong fingers massaged the sensitive places around his length. He knew objectively that the cerulean eyes peering over his shoulder were darkened with lust, and that coming undone like this drove his Dominant crazy. So, when just those few touches brought a pearl of precome from his tip to wet the light grey of his sweatpants a deeper shade, the growl of approval was expected. Not that the anticipation made the effect it had on his spine any less enjoyable.

"Yer so good, Kitten. Such a good boy fer me. Mmm. Ya make me so proud of ya when ya c'n do stuff like this." Grimmjow murmured against his neck, teeth grazing the skin just this side of painful. "I'm gonna reward ya, cuz ya remembered all that."

Ichigo arched his back, the living cage that was his Master's body the only thing that kept him from falling off the bed, as one of the hands teasing his groin stroked him from base to tip a few times. He gasped, sparks flying through his mind, and he tried to desperately to get more of that delicious friction, but all too soon his Master stopped, returning to only holding him down.

"That's it fer now. Tell me th' rest o' our deal breakers. Help me remember 'em." The blunette ground his own turgid length, trapped as it was by his jeans, against the still cotton covered crack above it as incentive.

"W-we never lie. Even…even when th-the truth is painful. While I'm in…in training I cannot have another D-Dom…and-and you won't take another s-sub." This task was just as hard as the last one, his Dominant's touch keeping him on the brink of pleasure. "I m-may not go out alone for l-longer than it t-takes to get f-from my apartment to…to yours, in c-case I h-have a re-relapse and…and p-panic. All d-decisions m-must be talked about in…in the…oh Gods, Master, please…" Ichigo begged, his hips hitching as the larger man's calloused fingers ran down his legs.

"Yer so close, pet. C'mon. Tell me where we talk." Grimmjow grinned against his pet's shoulder. Teasing was all part of the test.

"In the…the Negotiation Circle!" The last word was a moan as his cock drooled against the inside of his sweatpants. His Master's hands were down between them now, tracing the place where his ass rested against the lap beneath him.

"Last one." The blunette encouraged with an extra squeeze of both hands.

He rolled his head from side to side, panting. "I…I can't…can't remember…"

"Yes ya do. C'mon now. This is th' most important one."

"I don't…I…" His chest heaved and tension made everything tight. His toes curled, his hips ached, his fingers clenched the denim of his Master's jeans, and worst of all the coil of heat in his core burned hotter than ever. "I…I'm…s-s-sor—"

"I love you." Grimmjow rumbled, digging his thumbs into the pressure points between Ichigo's legs.

"Ah! Nya-AH! Ngh! I…ahng!" He couldn't think.

All of the tension escaped him, rushing from him like a damn breaking. His muscles were limp. He was boneless, and numb, so blessedly, wonderfully numb. His chest heaving though, and a keening sound echoed around the room with every breath. The larger man extracted his hands, pulling him around with soothing touches and a purring sort of coo that was half shush and half hum. He felt the cotton beneath his cheek was wet, but was unaware of the tears coursing down his face. They were rocking slightly, but all he could feel was the overwhelming presence of his Master.

How long they stayed like that, the ginger wasn't sure, but he became aware of his surroundings again slowly. First was the scent, deep and masculine with a hint of something fresh like mint or pine. Then came the warmth, radiating from the plane of muscle beneath his cheek and enveloping his torso in a cage of velvet steel. Then the sound, a low, thrumming that was more vibration than actual sound, a tune from the blunette's family, handed down through the generations from the ancient Germanic hills where the Jaeger half of his last name originated. Finally he opened his eyes. Slow, unfocused amber, searching the room and finding himself exactly where he anticipated he'd be: wrapped in the embrace of the one who could take him from his lowest of lows to the highest of his highs and back again to the ever fleeting stability that had been his holy grail until the strong blunette had come into his life.

"Welcome back, Kitten." Master smiled down at him, and a deceptively gentle hand ran through his hair.

It was then he noticed the dried salt on his cheeks, and the washed out, exhausted feeling that always followed one of his emotional outbursts. He had a vague headache, his throat and eyes were sore, his sinuses were still draining, and his back felt like he'd been strapped down for weeks. At times like this he wished he had been, that would have been more relaxing. He yawned and blinked, beginning to subtly stretch out his worn out muscles, and the larger man that was his pillow allowed him to sit all the way up before shifting to his own seated position.

"Need another minute, or are ya ready ta face Red now?"

The question was simple but he couldn't answer. It was often like this. He was drained, raw, and looking back across his sketchy memories, it was like looking at another person controlling his body. Embarrassed, ashamed, and at a loss, he focused his eyes on his hands, picking lightly at the hem of the other's shirt. Truthfully, if he could avoid Renji for the rest of his life, he probably would, but the blunette knew better. His Master would never allow him to slink away, avoiding the coming confrontation. However, he was allowed to delay long enough for the redness in his eyes to fade, for his nose to clear mostly, and for only the faintest physical evidence of his episode to be left. Then Grimmjow sat up further, disturbing his thoughts and drawing his gaze up to the azure stare that swallowed him every time they met. The patience there made him swallow and nod.

"That's my good boy, pet." The blunette's strong, calloused fingers drew through his hair and around his ear again.

They climbed off the bed, and after letting Ichigo change his sweatpants, they left the room. In the living room, Chad was back to watching something on TV, Ishida was reading some magazine about sewing, and Renji was sitting across from the other two at what would have been a dining room table if it wasn't currently occupied by their laptops. The redhead's own was open and the screen was filled with text. He didn't look like he'd moved for however long it had been, but now he had one of Ishida's stabilizing strips across his nose.

As soon as the orangette came into view, he was on his feet, but he turned his attention to Grimmjow. "I'm sorry I disrespected your pet, Sir."

Every face in the place blinked, and the blunette raised an eyebrow. "Really now? Do you understand? Do you realize how you belittle him by carrying your concern too far?"

"Yes." Renji extended his hand, tilted slightly to the side so that the palm was mostly facing up. Though not in a begging position, the request to be forgiven was obvious.

It was a tense moment, where Ichigo's eyes shifted from his friend to his lover and back again, and both of the brunettes on the couch held their breath. Then Grimmjow took the offered apology with a firm, steady handshake that spoke volumes to the redhead about the true level of the stocky man's dominance. The other three in the room released their worries in a collective exhale.

His Master pulled on his best friend's arm to shift his grip on the big redhead so he could throw his arm around the other's shoulders. "Y'know, Red," He began, steering them both towards the kitchen with a grin on his face and a sly glint to his eye, "ya've got th' makin's of a fine sub."

"W-wha-what?!" Renji sputtered while Ichigo laughed behind his hand, Ishida shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and Chad smirked in that quiet way he always had.

"Well, just look at th' way ya took that order I gave ya earlier, an' th' way ya called me 'Sir'…Mmm…almost as good as m'Kitten. Yer lucky." Grimmjow pushed away from the budding tattoo artist at that point to grab a beer from the fridge.

As they were coming back, Ichigo bit his lip, entertained by the fact that Renji trailed behind his Master lost and confused. The 'why' was obvious on his face, but everyone in the apartment could tell Grimmjow had said it specifically to entice the redhead to ask that very question. So, it was equally as obvious that it was the very last thing the normally boisterous male wanted to say, if for no other reason than to prove that the blunette couldn't control him.

Grimmjow flopped onto the second couch, taking a pull on his drink, and opening a space against his side for Ichigo to curl into, which the submissive did immediately. A second drink from the bottle and the Master took pity on the gathered other males, alleviating the anticipation.

"Cuz. It's ag'inst our rules at the moment. 'Til Kitten's outta trainin' we decided he'd be m' only pet." The orangette nodded happily nestled into his Master's embrace, and the blunette smirked again. "We'll see when Kitten outgrows his trainin' collar…maybe it'll fit yer neck, Red."

Though everyone in the room, except Renji, laughed out loud, Ichigo secretly hoped that wouldn't be for a very long time because he knew that being Grimmjow's first pet, he'd be expected to help with his friend's training, and he didn't know if he was up to filling the role of First Boy just yet. His Master apparently could tell where his thoughts were going because as his hand came up to stroke his collar comfortingly, the strong arm around him tightened ever so slightly in an non-verbal message designed to relieve his worries. It worked like a dream…just like it always did.