- Chapter 3 -


Ichigo found himself looking up at a grinning blue-haired man. He couldn't believe it. He had just been thinking he'd never see him again, and there he was, leaning out of an apartment window only a few blocks from his house. "Hey..." he paused, frowning when he realized he still didn't know his name but not wanting to admit it in front of the red-head standing by his side.

Grimmjow leaned over further, blue eyebrows lifted. "School uniform, huh, Ichigo?" he asked, tone playful, his smile growing when the boy looked down abruptly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kurosaki was shy, something he would have never expected from their fight, but ever since their first interaction in the bar, the substitute Soul Reaper was constantly toeing the line between angry-in-your-face-I'm a shinigami dammit-I'll-cut-you-open and shy-I'm-still-a-virgin-please Grimmjow please-take-me. Not that he was complaining, because he wasn't, he liked it. A lot. He adjusted himself discreetly.

Brown eyes flitted back up somewhat hesitantly. Ichigo shifted his bookbag over his shoulder. "So... you live here?" he asked, wanting to tack on 'alone', but cleared his throat instead.

Grimmjow tilted his head to the side, studying the lines of the boy's neck as he looked up at him. Delicious. He licked his lips before answering simply, "For now."

Ichigo found himself nodding at the obscure statement, his eyebrows pinching together slightly at the man's elusiveness. Maybe he was married, or had a significant other, or maybe he was a serial-killer. He shook the ridiculous latter thought from his mind, while making a mental note to check on the two former. Not that it would matter now, because he obviously wasn't interested anymore.

Ichigo forced a smile. "Ah, well, I guess I'll see you around then..." he trailed off, ignoring the disappointment he felt at the man not coming down, or better, asking him up. Of course he wouldn't, he had just pointed out their obvious age gap. Stupid. So stupid Ichigo. He made to walk on.

Grimmjow's smile widened as if he could read the orange-hair's thoughts and found them highly amusing. "So do y'want to grab something to eat?" he asked, keeping his tone light and stopping Ichigo in his tracks.

Ichigo resisted looking over at Renji, who had begun making noises of dissent in the back of his throat. He nodded, moving his hand to his wild hair and messing it a bit with agitated fingers. "Yeah sure. What'd you have in mind?" he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

The Espada's eyes flitted down Ichigo's lithe frame. Maybe his soul. "Whatever you want," he said instead, because really it would ruin all the fun he had planned, it would have to wait. "Give me a second, and I'll buzz you up, it's apartment 6."

His dark blue gaze swung over to the red-headed Soul Reaper, whose noises had grown more insistent, hardening when the tattooed boy scowled up at him. He pushed the window down firmly and walked over to the kitchen where the realtor was still waiting, a curious expression on her features. He picked up the pen, signed the two marked lines without hesitation and then handed her the folder.

"If you need any help getting to know the area-"

"No, I've already got someone," he said shortly as he guided the blonde to the front door, shutting the door firmly behind her when the intercom buzzed impatiently on the wall in the entryway. He grinned and waited, letting it buzz a second time before pushing down on the front-door unlock button to let him up, not bothering to say anything into the speaker.


"Who the fuck was that?" Renji demanded as soon as the window had shut. Ichigo grimaced, not responding, and red eyebrows shot up in realization. "Ichigo, is that - is that the guy you left the club with? He's-"

Ichigo walked off, not paying attention to the Soul Reaper as he scanned the registry at the apartment building's front door. Number 6... Pantera, G. What did the 'G' stand for? He lifted his hand to push the call button.

"Ichigo!" A hand reached out and grabbed Ichigo's, stopping him. "You can't go up there! That guy - he has to be ten years older than you, at least!"

Ichigo pulled his hand away, staring pointedly at Renji as he pushed the button to apartment 6 firmly. He hated being told what to do. "Watch me," he said dryly.

Renji snarled. "Ichigo, he's obviously a fucking pervert, you can't be serious." He scrunched up his tattooed eyebrows then, frowning. "And he looks familiar too, like someone I've seen before..."

Ichigo pressed down the button again in response, longer, hoping he would open the front door already before the Soul Reaper made the connection. He didn't need to hear his thoughts on the situation. The door buzzed and then clicked loudly, unlocking, and he grabbed the handle, shooting a disapproving Renji an impish grin over his shoulder as he walked in. "I'll see you later, don't wait for me."

The door clicked shut behind him, and he began to make his way through the upscale lobby, feeling somewhat out of place. He smiled at the doorman in his suit behind the desk to his right as he continued on his way over to the elevator, his mind buzzing as he stepped in, pushing the button for the fourth floor, that claimed apartments 5 and 6. He watched the heavy metal doors close before focusing back on his racing thoughts.

What was his plan? He was going up to a stranger's apartment, and for what? To fool around, hopefully, his mind supplied eagerly. Shit. He closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. The man—Pantera?—was no way still interested in him. Was he? He had pointed out his school uniform after all. Although, after that he did invite him up to his apartment, and it was his last year, maybe he didn't care.

The doors slid open with a ding, and Ichigo stepped forward in a hurry to run straight into a tall blonde, the woman almost his height in her heels. His hands shot out, catching her when she almost fell back. "Sorry. Sorry, are you okay?"

The woman looked at him in surprise, pulling away and smoothing out her grey dress suit to shoot him a snooty look. "Yes, I'm fine. You should watch where you're going," she said sharply before wrinkling her nose and walking past him.

Ichigo shrugged and made his way to the apartment on the right labelled number 6. He lifted his hand to knock when the door pulled open. His mouth dropped as he found himself greeted by a shirtless torso.


Grimmjow grinned at the shinigami and then looked up to see the blonde realtor by the elevator door, studying them with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

"My guide," he called quickly over Ichigo's shoulder at the blonde, before she could make another attempt at his name. That wouldn't be good. He winked at her and then took Ichigo by the arm, guiding him into his new apartment before shutting the door and locking it behind them. Didn't want him to escape this time.

He turned around to see the orange-haired boy not so discreetly gaping at him only half-dressed as he stood in his school uniform. He grinned slowly. "Surprised to see me?" he teased.

Ichigo blinked, struggling to gather his thoughts. "I. Yes. I mean... about last week-"

Grimmjow nodded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and leaning back slightly to flex his stomach muscles as he waited patiently. "Go on."

Ichigo ran a hand up into his mess of hair, rubbing at it, his gaze shooting down to the straining muscles again. "I'm sorry I left like that. I had-" he dropped off.

"Curfew. I remember," he said, grinning when a flush ran up the boy's neck as a glint of anger flashed in his eyes. He took a step closer, excitement spurring him on. "Tell me, Ichigo, how old are you exactly?"

Ichigo's anger melted away at the question, his mouth didn't move.

Grimmjow took another step forward, running his hands down the boy's shoulders and over his clothed arms before tugging at his sleeves.

"Eighteen?" he asked softly, smiling when Ichigo shook his head, and began to help him remove the jacket by pulling the sleeves down over his hands. He tossed the piece of clothing onto the floor and then began to play with the top button on his shirt.

"Seventeen?" he asked, his body growing more excited as he began to undo the boy's shirt, his fingers undeterred when he shook his head again but begrudgingly. It didn't matter for what he had planned, if he was old enough to fight as a Soul Reaper and die by his hands he was old enough to be fucked by him. It was only fair.

He grimaced, when there was an unusual tightening in his chest at the thought for some reason. Odd. He ignored it, it must be his gigai acting up. The real question and his reasoning for asking was to answer another one he couldn't ask, at least not without outing himself; how young the incredibly strong Soul Reaper was, because he was more than impressed with his captain-like powers, not to mention the hollowish ones he appeared to have too, even if he hadn't mastered them yet. He was intrigued, and Grimmjow was rarely so.

Ichigo laughed roughly, finally speaking up, the blue-haired man's knuckles brushing the skin of his stomach as he worked on the last few buttons to his shirt. "Sixteen, I'm almost seventeen though. My birthday's next week."

Grimmjow nodded in an impressed manner as he undid the final button of the boy's shirt and then said, "Ah, young, just how I like 'em," with a devilish grin, grabbing hold of the boy's unbuttoned white shirt and tugging him closer as Ichigo let out a laugh. He found his grin softening somewhat when arms wrapped around his neck, making a slow breath escape his lips unbidden as he looked down into cinnamon-colored eyes.

"That makes you sound like a pervert, y'know?" Ichigo retorted glibly, looking up with an amused expression.

The hollow nodded as another strange sensation began to whirl inside his chest, isolating to one spot and intensifying. "I'm okay with that," he said in a low quiet voice and then leaned down and captured the boy's lips. He almost felt bad for deceiving him as their mouths moved against each other, soft lips parting obligingly under his own. Almost.

He slid his tongue out and into the shinigami's receptive mouth, his hands sliding down and snaking inside his shirt, touching smooth skin and wrapping around his waist, lifting him up and grinning as legs parted as well, wrapping welcomingly around him. At least they wouldn't have to argue over that.

He took a few steps forward, and then he was pushing him up against a wall. He moved his mouth down to the boy's neck, alternating kissing and licking as he pressed himself firmly between spread legs and causing a pounding to start up in his chest. "I want to fuck you so bad," he whispered against delicious skin, a groan falling from parted lips and making the statement even more true.

"Your room... is - is it down there?" Ichigo asked in a rough voice that sent chills down the Espada's back, pointing down the hallway they were standing in.

"Maybe," Grimmjow said, realizing he hadn't even seen it yet. "Let's check and see." He started to laugh as he took a step back to let Ichigo slide down and then realization hit him—There was something pounding in his chest. He blinked, lifting a hand and setting it over the spot, jerking it away in surprise. Yes, there was definitely something moving underneath. Maybe there was something wrong with his gigai.

"Something wrong?"

The blue-haired hollow looked down to find a hand resting over the area where the thumping was coming from. "No, I, uh-"

"It feels like mine," Ichigo said, lifting the hollow's hand and placing it on his own chest in the same place.

Grimmjow's eyes widened as realization hit him like a bucket of ice water to the face, Ichigo's heart pounding under his touch. No. His hand dropped, and he took a step back and then another. It wasn't supposed to do that—His jaw clenched suddenly—He would kill the shop-keeper.

He didn't register the shinigami's words as he turned away and made his way for the door.