I don't own Bleach or its characters. Hello all! OMG I'm sorry it took this long to update, but between my schedual and my beta friend Misc, Ink's, who is buying her first house (YAY! CONGRATS! It's so exciting!) I've gotten a tad bit behind. *hangs head in shame* I will try to do better, and thank you for your patience and continued support of my work. Please enjoy!
Chapter Four: Magic Trick
There weren't words to describe the exhilaration of flying at deadly speeds on a motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic as slick as oil, the wind your only resistance. The adrenaline rush that had died after the fight was fully resurrected in both males as Grimmjow shot down the freeway with Pantera roaring beneath him, Ichigo's arms wound tight around his midsection. He briefly wondered how the hell this had happened; he'd never so much as entertained taking anybody from a club to his house. He always went to theirs, and promptly got ghost when he had his fill of them. Well, he'd deal with any awkwardness if it came later, and kept his sharp gaze focused ahead as he took the exit that would lead to home.
Ichigo decided that he was definitely a fan of motorcycles. He pressed himself tighter to Grimmjow when they took a rather tightly curved road, his heart hammering at the danger of taking the curves at the speed they were going. The motorcycle and its driver seemed to be one entity though, not even dropping one mile an hour as they cut those curves like butter. It was quite the experience. It was almost like the first time he went on a roller coaster – he was a bit nervous his legs would be like jello when he went to get off the bike.
Eventually the road evened out into a straight line that seemed to disappear into the darkness of the night, and after another three quarters of a mile they turned off onto a paved driveway that was tucked in a grove of Emory oak trees. Grimmjow slowed the bike as they rounded the drive to the side of the house, hitting a small remote on his keychain to lift one of the two garage doors.
Ichigo tried not to hyperventilate as they pulled into the garage stall and Grimmjow killed the engine. He could tell from Grimmjow's clothes, his bike, shit even the way the guy smelled that he had money. How much money, however, wasn't apparent until he caught a glimpse of the house from the outside. It was beautiful. It was a towering gray bricked structure with a modern edge, tastefully landscaped to showcase Hueco Mundo's near desert like climate. He suddenly had a lot of trepidation to step foot in the house.
Not much he could do about it now, he supposed, as Grimmjow snapped down the kick stand. Ichigo released his hold on Grimmjow, who got off the bike and held out a hand to Ichigo. Ichigo scowled beneath the visor of the helmet, which Grimmjow couldn't see due to the dark tint, but he took the offered hand despite resenting being treated like a girl, because it meant he got to touch Grimmjow some more. Once off the bike, he quickly withdrew his hand and took off the helmet, sitting it on the bike.
"Let's get you sewn up," Ichigo commanded, gesturing to the arm that was bandaged in his strip of t-shirt. He could see bright circles of blood on the light colored fabric from the wound being jarred during the ride.
"Yes sir!" Grimmjow said, giving Ichigo a mock salute. He wasn't quick enough hiding the wince of pain he got from stupidly using the injured arm and Ichigo smirked at his idiocy.
Resisting the urge to flip the kid off, Grimmjow led the way to the side entrance to the house, punching in the code to unlock the door on the wall panel. The panel turned green and beeped once, and Grimmjow swung the door wide, standing aside to let Ichigo in after flipping the light switch just inside the door.
Grimmjow watched Ichigo's face. The kid had the most interesting expressions when he forgot to hide them behind his scowl. Right now Ichigo seemed to be torn between awe and discomfort. Grimmjow wondered about the latter, but was experiencing his own discomfort about allowing a total stranger into his sanctuary.
He watched as Ichigo toed out of his shoes, black converses, and kicked them off to the side. He took a few steps carefully in his socked feet across the glossed ebony wood floor before turning to look over his shoulder at Grimmjow.
"You planning on showing me to a bathroom, or shall you just remain bleeding in the door way of your kitchen?"
"Keep yer panties on," Grimmjow snapped, bending to unlace his motorcycle boots. He shucked them over by Ichigo's shoes; ignoring the tingling need to take them directly back to the closet with the promise to himself he'd do it as soon as Ichigo was gone.
He led Ichigo through the stainless steel and granite counter-topped kitchen, across the beige terrazzo flooring in the living room, and up a spiral staircase to the second floor. He led Ichigo into the master bathroom and after snapping on the lights, retrieved a first aid kit from the floating console mounted on the right wall.
"Shall I just sit on the toilet, doctor?" he asked, handing off the first aid kit to Ichigo, who hadn't said a word since they left the kitchen.
Ichigo shook his head in the negative, gesturing for him to join him at the console. Ichigo ran the water, letting it heat, soaping and scrubbing his hands under the water thoroughly.
"Take off the coat, and the t-shirt too, it's best to just do it all now. I don't want to get blood all over your clothes. Do you have white towels? Not that I want to ruin your towels, but it's best to use ones without colored dyes in them when treating wounds…"
While Ichigo blathered on about towels, Grimmjow had stripped from the waist up. He opened a drawer in the console and removed a couple off white hand towels, enjoying the feel of Ichigo's eyes roaming over his bare flesh.
Ichigo's mouth was suddenly dry at the buffet of half naked man in front of him, but he quickly remembered himself and his task at hand. He opened the first aid kit on the white marble counter top, arching a brow at how in depth the kit was. Examining the kit further as he pulled out a needle and silk thread, he glanced at Grimmjow out of his peripheral as he sterilized the needle with alcohol.
"So, you never actually told me your name. It wouldn't be good bedside manner for me not to know my patient's name."
"Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, at yer service," Grimmjow answered, standing still as Ichigo took his arm. He watched as Ichigo's eyebrows scrunched together, as if he was trying to remember something. Grimmjow didn't flinch when Ichigo pressed the burning hot, soapy towel to his wound, gently cleaning around the area and looking at it critically. He turned it this way and that, must have liked what he saw, because he gently tugged Grimmjow closer so that he could put his arm beneath the faucet after he quickly cooled the water.
"I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, by the way. The wound is just deep enough to require stitches, like I originally thought," Ichigo commented, soaping the wound and rinsing it well beneath the water, trying to remain clinically detached from the hunk that was literally breathing on his neck from their close proximity and hunched posture at the sink.
Grimmjow just responded with a light grunt, fascinated with watching Ichigo work. He let Ichigo pat his arm dry and followed Ichigo's instructions to lay his arm out on the towel on the counter top. He watched Ichigo deftly thread the needle and then those brown eyes were on his, compassionate and warm, and he swallowed hard.
Ichigo smiled kindly at him.
"I'll do my best to make this as painless as possible, since we have no local to give you for numbing. It shouldn't be too bad, but you let me know if you need to take a breather or anything, ok?"
If it were any other person, Grimmjow would have scoffed, told them to fuck off and that he wasn't no pussy. But he could only bring himself to nod under that gaze, which really made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with him.
He didn't have time to ponder it, becoming distracted by the needle entering his skin. Ichigo's hands moved with a fluidity consistent to water, completely sure in their movements. He kept his touch light; Grimmjow really didn't feel any discomfort. Before he knew it, Ichigo was tying off the thread in a surgeons knot.
"It looked worse than it really was, but that was probably due to the alcohol and adrenaline in your system," Ichigo said, smoothing some antibiotic ointment over the stitch job. He met Grimmjow's eyes.
"It's not every day you come across somebody with a military grade first aid kit. Were you in the military?"
Grimmjow's infamous grin spread across his face.
"Naw kid, I'm not the best at takin' orders. I was pretty much raised like a boy scout, ya know, always be prepared n' shit. I own a construction company, so it comes in handy to have a bit more detailed first aid kit around. Those are just like the ones we keep on job sites."
"Which construction company?" Ichigo asked, tilting his head slightly so that he looked like a curious puppy. Kid was just too damn cute for his own good.
"Espada," Grimmjow replied, his eyebrow quirking as he watched realization dawn in Ichigo's eyes.
"You are Mayor Aizen's son?"
"Nephew," corrected Grimmjow, feeling anger starting to prickle under his skin. He hadn't pegged the kid for either a fame banger or a gold digger, but conversations that started like this always led down those roads.
Ichigo straightened up and began washing his hands.
"I thought your name sounded familiar, as if I heard it before. My father knows Aizen through some other contacts of his. I've met him a time or two when I was younger at charity events, he's a charming guy."
Grimmjow snorted, both at the statement and in surprise. It seemed this kid was going to prove him wrong at every turn.
Ichigo scowled at Grimmjow's rude noise. He replaced the contents of the first aid kit and tossed out the needle after wrapping it in several layers of toilet paper. He eyed Grimmjow, who was straightening from the counter where he was looking over Ichigo's job.
"You are gonna make a great doctor, kid. I wasn't even scared."
"I'm 24, Grimmjow, I'm not a kid."
Grimmjow smirked, and Ichigo flushed a little. He wished he'd put his shirt back on. It was distracting.
"Well, I got four years on ya', so guess what? Yer a kid."
Ichigo's scowl deepened.
"What the hell kind of logic is that? A four year difference doesn't make me a kid."
Ichigo nearly jumped out of his skin when Grimmjow moved suddenly, closing the gap between them and placing his hands on the counter on either side of Ichigo. There was barely a few inches of space between them, and Ichigo could feel the heat radiating off Grimmjow's skin.
"Thanks for sewin' me up, now let's say we skip over the pretenses and get to the good shit."
Ichigo's jaw locked in anger as he glared up at the man towering before him.
"What makes you so sure I want to sleep with you? I think sewing your wound was payment enough."
Grimmjow's smirk turned feral, and Ichigo wasn't prepared for his next move. Grimmjow's hands left the counter and latched onto his hips, lifting him off his feet and plopping him on his ass on the countertop. He stood between Ichigo's legs and one large hand abandoned its hold to stroke over the crotch of his jeans.
The semi hardness that Ichigo had been battling since the removal of Grimmjow's shirt gave him away as it twitched and swelled further beneath Grimmjow's ministrations, making his jeans seem like a cage. Ichigo was proud of himself for not making any noise, but couldn't stop his hips from shifting into the movement of Grimmjow's teasing hand.
Grimmjow leaned in so his lips were right next to Ichigo's ear, his breath tickling the sensitive flesh.
"It ain't about repayment, kid. It's about me wantin' to fuck ya until ya can't walk straight, like I've been wantin' to since I seen ya at the bar with yer friend."
Ichigo's knuckles went white from the grip he had on the edge of the counter. He turned his face so that he could meet Grimmjow's heavy gaze, his own lust shining in his eyes giving away his decision.
"In that case, I've got a magic trick you should know," Ichigo said lowly, grinning mischievously at the curiosity on Grimmjow's face.
"I'll take the bait, let's see it," Grimmjow replied. He stepped back and Ichigo slid gracefully off the counter, sinking to his knees before him. Ichigo made quick work of his belt and promptly had his jeans and boxer briefs down around his ankles. Grimmjow was pleased with his eagerness, watching Ichigo stare at his cock bobbing up and down as he kicked away the offensive garments.
Grimmjow's interest was further amplified by the fact that not an ounce of confidence left the kid's face once his dick was out. He wasn't much longer than average length, but girth was another story and Ichigo didn't seem intimidated in the least. Good.
Ichigo slid his hands upward over toned calves and muscular thighs, leaving them still on Grimmjow's hips when they got there. He leaned in and licked Grimmjow's dick- which was pretty damn impressive, he was going to be sore tomorrow- from base to tip. Grimmjow's dick jumped in response.
Ichigo leaned back slightly, looking up at Grimmjow from his position on the floor.
"Usually magicians don't tell how their tricks work, but I think you'd like to know."
"How do you do it?" asked Grimmjow with a smirk, none of his previous liaisons had ever really been playful, he was enjoying this new experience.
Ichigo gave him the most devious smile he'd ever seen, before replying "No gag reflex."
Grimmjow didn't even have time to process the words before Ichigo's hot mouth swallowed him to the hilt. His toes curled and his hands threaded deeply into thick orange spikes. He didn't even realize he'd shouted the word "FUCK!" until his ears caught the echo ringing around the bathroom.
END CHAPTER. Ok, please don't kill me for stopping it there! The next chapter will contain all the smut you want. I'll even consider requests =). Comments always appreciated. XD