Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me, sadly.

Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi m/m scenes of an explicit nature.

Summary: Ulquiorra wakes to find that Grimmjow spent the day worrying about his mental health, while back in Karakura Town Ichigo continues to weigh his choices.

A/N: So far I've managed to keep up with posting one chapter every week (now watch me miss the deadline next week 'cause I'm about to jinx myself), and I'm going to be aiming for that from now on. Wednesday every week there should be a new chapter up, unless I'm too sick to write, or the plot bunnies commit suicide (which they are prone to do, sadly. Makes me wonder if they're part lemming?). Fingers crossed and all that. ^_^

I'd also like to apologise to those on fanfiction[dot]net for the gaps and typos that haven't been fixed in earlier chapters. I'm not sure how to go about editing a published chapter without replacing the entirety, and I'm not sure how that works for those of you subscribed to author alerts and the like.

And last, but not least; this chapter has some of the smut you've been warned about... I'm not liking how it turned out, but I do hope you enjoy it anyway!

oOoOoOoOoOo

The sun had just about set when Ulquiorra opened his eyes to utter darkness. He didn't move right away, choosing instead to let his senses reach outward, searching for Grimmjow's whereabouts, and checking that everything was in order. After a few moments he heard the sound of fabric shifting against fabric, and deduced that the werepanther was in the main room on the sofa, probably napping. The thought made him feel a little guilty. It was Ulquiorra's fault Grimmjow had avoided their bed, his reactions and insecurities that had hurt the outwardly tough man. Anyone who truly knew Grimmjow well would understood he was surprisingly easy to wound on an emotional level.

But it wasn't as though Ulquiorra had been in any shape to worry about it the night before. Between the unexpected reaction he'd had toward the new Reaper, and mention of Aizen, he'd been lost, and confused. He'd been looking at that strange new Reaper and he'd wanted him. This shouldn't have been happening, not again. Not when the wounds from Aizen's betrayal still ached and threatened to burst open so easily. It might take another century at the rate he was healing to forget how much he had believed in the ex-Reaper. Trusted him. Been devoted to the man like the god he'd struggled to become.

Thrusting such thoughts from his mind as best he could, Ulquiorra released his claws from the stone at his feet, quickly flipping to land in a crouch on the plush rug that took up most of the – otherwise empty – floorspace. The motion was familiar and smooth, executed with a finesse which belied the fact he usually spent his days in the huge bed he now faced in the pitch-black darkness surrounding him.

There was no need to light a candle, he knew this room – and indeed the entire residence – well enough to navigate sound-blind. But he didn't need to go without; his resurrección allowed his bat-like sonar to pick up the echoes of his breathing and view the room as a series of colourless impressions. Grimmjow told him he could do something similar with scent, but it was not quite as detailed. Though their distastefully human traits preferred the aesthetics of lighting and comfort, such things weren't necessary.

Ulquiorra turned from the mass which was the bed, then headed for the uniform distortion in the walls that was the door, and made his way toward the bathing room. Spending so many hours gripping onto cool stone had done nothing to help his naturally low body temperature, despite the added warmth afforded him by his wings. What he wanted right then was substantial heat to loosen his joints and soothe the aches he generally didn't notice after a day wrapped in Grimmjow's arms.

Perhaps he had grown soft? The act of sleeping with another was familiar enough that he'd become accustomed to it, maybe even – he let himself contemplate – dependant upon Grimmjow's proximity for relief from an issue he'd once taken in stride. Truthfully there had been a time when he'd hardly noticed the chill in his bones, or simply ignored it. How long ago had that been? Surely before they'd moved to the area surrounding Karakura Town, certainly before the vast majority of sentient Hollows had been murdered by those bothersome Reapers.

The cool flagstones underfoot signalled his arrival in the desired room. Ulquiorra stepped closer to the large tub and reached for the taps. Indoor plumbing was one of those bonuses he was loath to admit to most days, but there was no doubt that humanity had it's uses. On occasion. Other than as a source of nutrients far superior to that of mindless animals, of course. Assuming they didn't binge too regularly on foods high in fat or sugars. These modern times did not lend themselves to satisfying meals, not like centuries past when the upper classes gorged on good food, and better wines, until they became bloated and ripe for the drinking. Then again, they hadn't been overly healthy back then, either. The unfortunate had survived on poor diets of little meat and only slightly higher counts of vegetables, with the sporadic inclusion of fruit. The wealthier men and women of high society had been greedy, without the knowledge of how bad it was to consume excessive quantities of grease, and alcohol.

Plenty of fruit and vegetables made for richer, healthier, tastier blood. Too bad Grimmjow would disapprove of collecting a specimen they could retain in their care, under their control, just to feed Ulquiorra's preferences. They might have been able to train them for domestic chores, or something else as rudimentary. Szayel could already have a likely candidate lazing around his lab somewhere.

Ulquiorra sighed quietly to himself. It would never work. One day would be all it would take before the hapless mortal was killed accidentally, by either himself or Grimmjow. That man was not well known for his tenderness when it came to fragile items. Neither of them were predisposed for that nurturing instinct that Starrk showed toward Lilynette, unless you counted their tolerance for Nel.

Amused by his own musings, Ulquiorra held a hand out under the flow of water, testing the temperature. Satisfied when he found that the heat was almost scalding, he stripped before moving into the spray after a momentary pause to relinquish his resurrección.

The water drowned out the sound of footsteps approaching, however the sudden appearance of light and shadows – as Grimmjow entered the room with a lit candle – drew the vampire's attention. Impassive eyes the colour of late-spring grass swivelled to observe the other's behaviour, admiring the way the light enhanced the visual beauty of that muscular body. Who needed a pet human when they had their very own live-in werepanther?

Grimmjow set the candle holder down on the counter by the sink where it would not be in danger of setting the room on fire should they forget about it. It had happened often enough in their early days together for it to have become second-nature to them now. Szayel had offered to install solar panels for electric lighting, but Ulquiorra didn't see any pressing need to change a habit of a lifetime simply because the technology existed. That and it would be hard to make the panels effective while hiding them from the outside world – for otherwise they risked giving away their location. Which would effectively call an end to this home's usefulness.

Eyeing the werepanter with quiet interest, Ulquiorra absently reached for the bottle of shampoo. The water was hot enough to cause the room to slowly became cloudy with steam. There was no point in wasting the heat of the water while he watched his long time lover hurriedly strip.

"Ya could'a just said somethin', ya know, like last night," Grimmjow informed him grumpily, but Ulquiorra could hear the thread of barely camouflaged lust hiding in the seemingly irritated voice, "Before ya decided ta fly off inta th' night ta brood an' shit."

Ulquiorra said nothing while he listened, his hands squeezed out the appropriate amount of product into his palm so he could begin to lather it into his long hair. "Eloquent, as usual I see," he retorted with the slightest upward turn to the corner of his lip. Maybe his voice was not as dispassionate as he would have preferred, had there been anyone else around to hear him, but he was comfortable enough in his relationship with the other man to show this minor weakness.

It was safe to be emotional around Grimmjow.

"Ya know what I mean," Grimmjow muttered. There was silence as the pair of them moved around one another to accommodate Grimmjow's addition to the shower. Luckily Ulquiorra had had the foresight to request a larger than usual shower head so as to make this task easier. The same as the face tub it was positioned over was big enough for five grown men. For an animal that was supposed to detest water Grimmjow spent an inordinate amount of time in it, and he frequently liked to have company.

"I was not in the mood to talk about it, Grimmjow," he informed the man evenly.

Grimmjow growled low in his throat, the sound strangely comforting. "Ya were stuck up there all fuckin' day! Th' water's so fuckin' hot tha' if I din't heal as fast as I do I'd've second degree burns already." Apparently annoyed with the way Ulquiorra was washing his hair, Grimmjow knocked his hands out of the way, repositioned him for better access, and took over massaging his scalp. There was plenty of nail involved too. Ulquiorra closed his eyes and relaxed into the contact.

"I apologise if my actions have caused you undue stress Grimmjow," he finally relented. "That was not my intention."

"Yeah, well ya gonna make it up ta me," Grimmjow leaned closer so that Ulquiorra could feel his chest rumble with the words through the press of skin along his back. There was an eagerness in that tone which was sinfully suggestive.

Ulquiorra shivered in anticipation. "As you wish."

There was a chuckle from Grimmjow, and the blunt nails scratching wonderfully against his scalp trailed down the back of his head to this shoulders, before following the line of his spine all the way to his ass. Ulquiorra tilted his shoulders forward slightly, while thrusting his hips backward in appreciation. The pleasant sting of slightly-grazed skin arched his back with the barest parting of his lips. That felt so good. If this was punishment, or a reward for Grimmjow tolerating Ulquiorra's recent moodiness, Ulquiorra decided it was more than worth it. After all, it would provide both of them with a reprieve from things they'd rather not think about.

Either way Grimmjow was a skilled, attentive lover who always left Ulquiorra amazed that the affectionate man would be content to commit himself so loyally to an emotionally repressed vampire. The werepanther was so full of life that he radiated energy much in the same way a light bulb gave off excess heat. It was as though there was not enough space within the man to hold it all inside, so it leaked out to brush against Ulquiorra's coldness with an incredible warmth. One Ulquiorra had no intention of ever relinquishing.

"If the water makes you uncomfortable you are free to adjust the temperature," Ulquiorra offered softly. If there was hitch to his breathing due to Grimmjow's proximity he chose to ignore it, opting instead to arch once more against the rough fingertips that were dragged up his back over the scratches that had faded in intensity already. A sound that was close to being a moan escaped him as he shifted in his quest for more.

"Hm, I think I'll leave it be fer now," Grimmjow purred into his ear. Then he moved to gently rinse the residue of the shampoo from Ulquiorra's hair, being mindful of the other's eyes as he coaxed Ulquiorra into an upright position.

Ulquiorra melted into the caress of those callused hands, more than willing to allow his lover to lead them in this well choreographed dance of theirs. As though he'd been waiting for that moment of utter submission, Grimmjow chased the water down to Ulquiorra's shoulders, and began to lightly knead the muscles there, and around the base of his neck.

Desire coiled through Ulquiorra's lower stomach, mingled with the Thirst he'd ignored so far this evening. The combination was warm and insistent, but faint still. A slow burn that could erupt with little more than a word, or a glance, as they'd discovered many times in the past, however Ulquiorra had a feeling this was not going to become one of those frantic couplings between them. Grimmjow wanted to remind him that they had vowed to be there for one another, which his solitary slumber had apparently called into question.

While he'd been lost in thought the werepanther had found the liquid soap. Slick hands smoothed over Ulquiorra's skin. The scent of vanilla and ginger rose on the steam. Ulquiorra inhaled deeply, loving the way the sweetness of the vanilla mingled with the spicy heat of the ginger. It had been a gift, this soap, made especially for Ulquiorra by Szayel, on a request from Grimmjow. In a way it was as though the man was marking him as his.

Ulquiorra leaned back against Grimmjow's body as he felt those fingers inching around his sides toward his chest. His head came to rest on a broad shoulder, the vampire's eyes still closed, he let his mind drift where it would. Which mostly fixated on the wonderful glide of skin on skin, accompanied by a rumbling purr that was so low as to be felt more than heard.

Methodically Grimmjow washed Ulquiorra's body, he paused here and there when he came across sensitive areas, then carried on. After an ageless time Ulquiorra pulled away and turned to face him, his limbs feeling swollen with need. A single eyebrow rose in question as green eyes met blue, "You seem to have missed a bit," the vampire teased straight-faced.

"Really?" Grimmjow rejoined with manic-glee tinted teasing. "Did ya mean this?" Soapy hands flowed over the slender curve of Ulquiorra's ass, and dipped between his cheeks to allow a single finger to circle his entrance.

"Two places, then," Ulquiorra corrected, a false frown in place. "I must say I'm disappointed in your lack of accomplishment in this area."

"Oh-ho! Is'at so?" Grimmjow grinned back, his teeth bared in challenge. "Do I need ta show ya just how accomplished I am?"

There was no waiting for an answer, Grimmjow simply lifted Ulquiorra out of the tub, turned the water off and climbed out after him. A large towel was wrapped around his head and shoulders. It was large enough to hit the backs of his knees, and covered almost as much of him as his wings would have. The pampering was enjoyable, so he stood still and allowed Grimmjow to dry them both off without a word of complaint. Not one to welcome being manhandled for too long however, Ulquiorra made his own way to their room, pausing only long enough to collect the candle holder.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The day had dragged on once Nel had scurried off to pick on Nnoitora, leaving Grimmjow nothing to do but think about the vampire. Next time Starrk stuck his fury wolf-paw in his big, fat mouth, Grimmjow was going to make him regret it. Shit, if Ulquiorra hadn't snapped out of the funk he'd been in as soon as he had, the wolf might have found Grimmjow's temper incapable of waiting even that long.

Only now that Ulquiorra was headed into their bedroom – with a sway to his slender hips Grimmjow recognised only too well – was he able to calm down, and push the need for revenge aside in favour of other needs entirely. The day-long mental argument with himself faded slightly under the green gaze that peered at him seductively through a curtain of damp black hair.

The candlestick was put to one side just moments before Grimmjow pounced. The palms of his hands skimmed over narrow hips, fingers digging in slightly as he tugged that slender body back against him so that he could bury his nose in the crook of Ulquiorra's neck.

"Been too long," Grimmjow growled with a rotation of his hips that pressed their lower bodies more firmly together.

Ulquiorra shivered in his arms, then gave a soft sigh that almost turned into a moan. "I seem to recall you telling me the same thing last night," the vampire reminded him, then pulled away with a gentle touch to Grimmjow's arm.

The panther turned to track the other's movement.

"Tease," Grimmjow accused with a feral smile as blue eyes followed the sight of Ulquiorra's retreat toward the bed. It was becoming apparent that Ulquiorra was in a playful mood tonight, be it because he was intentionally distracting himself from thoughts of the past, or as a result of Grimmjow's attempt to 'help' in the shower, he didn't know, but the results were arousing. The pale, slim form was now kneeling on the end of their bed, green eyes shadowed by long hair as Ulquiorra twisted his head around and sucked suggestively on two long fingers. The angle meant that they could watch each other, while Grimmjow had an excellent view of that pert little ass.

The need to move forward and take his lover warred with the desire to simply watch the show. Grimmjow growled, the sound vibrating through his chest in a comfortable rumble. Ulquiorra's eyes closed in response, moaning around his fingers, throat working. Grimmjow licked dry lips as those fingers then moved out of sight for a moment, only to reappear between parted legs, a lone, glistening digit playing briefly over his entrance. Green eyes gleamed as Ulquiorra once more looked over his shoulder, meeting Grimmjow's eager gaze before roughly pushing both fingers into himself with a louder moan of pleasure.

Grimmjow inhaled sharply. Damned bastard was trying to fucking kill him, or maybe he wanted Grimmjow to stop looking at him like the delectable vision of wanton lust he was, and get on with reaffirming their connection.

"Damn but ya asking for it, lookin' like that," Grimmjow warned, voice thick with need. Graceful, steady footsteps took Grimmjow across the room to stand behind Ulquiorra, blue eyes trained on those thrusting fingers. It had been a long time since he'd last indulged himself in one of his favourite acts of foreplay, but having been a spectator for several minutes, he was not about to deny himself any longer. His knees hit the rug without a sound to betray him as he leaned forward to run the flat of his tongue over the sensitive area Ulquiorra was still stretching for both their benefits. The scent of Ulquiorra's body was a heady mixture of male musk and something strangely sweet like vanilla. And that was before you added that fucking fantastic soap to the mix. Grimmjow traced over the point where pearly white fingers met Ulquiorra's entrance, ears strained to catch every tiny gasp of pleasure his lover could no longer withhold.

All the emotion usually shoved behind the unrivalled mental barriers Ulquiorra threw up, between himself and the rest of the world, seemed to escape in a barrage of low cries and whimpers. Still, those fingers never ceased moving, and Grimmjow slowly added his tongue alongside of them, loving the feel of Ulquiorra clenching sporadically around them both. This was something he had to start finding the time to enjoy again. Recently there had been little in the way of foreplay between them, but they both appreciated it too much to allow that lazy trait to continue. That in mind, Grimmjow gave one last, lingering lick, and reared up while he simultaneously flipped Ulquiorra over, unsurprised that the vampire's reflexes kicked in so that he had his legs around the backs of Grimmjow's legs, his fingers still buried deep inside his own body by the time he hit the mattress.

There were certain advantages to having a preternatural lover, after all.

Grimmjow leered down at Ulquiorra. That perfect, pale body was arched provocatively on the bed, his cock swollen as it bounced lewdly on a fluttering, toned stomach with every twitch of narrow hips, one arm stretched down the length of his torso, and moving languidly between his legs. Dark locks of silken hair splayed over their cream bedspread like an oil stain. Eyes the colour of fresh grass reflected weak candlelight like a cat's, giving the impression that they were glowing with need in the dimness. As he watched, Ulquiorra's Hollow markings appeared, forming twin green lines down his face from his eyes like tear tracks.

With a possessive growl Grimmjow leaned forward with one hand on the bed beside Ulquiorra to seal their mouths together in a searing kiss. It was just too much for him – even after all this time – to see Ulquiorra lose the last piece of his control. Tongues battled for dominance, but there was no real question as to who would win. Ulquiorra enjoyed being topped too much to really fight his own submission, and they were both far too out of practice to make this last.

Grimmjow ran a hand down Ulquiorra's side, to hold and squeeze his hip in promise as he pulled back from kiss-bruised lips. "Too fuckin' sexy fer ya own good," he informed the other to the harsh sound of panting whines. "I need ya right now."

It was both a statement of fact, and a warning that he had no intention of moving to hunt down the bottle of lubricant they kept under to the bed. It was probably closer to the headboard anyway, which was too far away in Grimmjow's mind. The urgency singing in his veins demanded he take his lover without delay, and creature of instinct he was, Grimmjow stood with a dexterity that utilised every last iota of muscle control his human body held. Ulquiorra closed his eyes momentarily with the barest nod of acknowledgement, hand moving out of the way as Grimmjow's grip on his hip shifted, then they were staring at each other as Grimmjow positioned himself at Ulquiorra's entrance.

"Grimm," Ulquiorra's voice was raspy with need, his mouth open enough to flash elongated fangs as vice-like, clawed hands gripped desperately at Grimmjow's broad shoulders. "I need you inside me. Please!"

The plea broke through what remained of Grimmjow's restraint. With a roar that would have been more at home in his natural form, Grimmjow jerked his hips forward, and sank smoothly into Ulquiorra's tight heat. They moaned in unison, bodies meeting in a jolt of pleasure that had Grimmjow gritting his teeth. Ulquiorra bucked upward, heels digging into the backs of Grimmjow's thighs in an impatient attempt to get him moving again.

An indrawn breath to steady himself was Grimmjow's one concession to his own weakness, then he was withdrawing only to slam home once more, this time hitting the other's prostate with an unerring accuracy. Hard. Ulquiorra mewled, neck arched and head thrown back as his nails tore open the skin under them. The pain and blood-scent sparked a feral growl from the panther, who immediately responded with repetitive, forceful thrusts of his hips. They rocked together at ever increasing speeds, until Grimmjow had to move so he could kneel on the bed, hands firmly holding Ulquiorra in place as he found a rhythm that pitched them both too fast toward the edge of reason.

Just as they hit the last hurdle toward that goal, the pleasure so intense Grimmjow couldn't have strung a coherent thought together if his life depended on it, Ulquiorra's back lifted off the mattress, one hand finding and fisting in Grimmjow's hair until his touch brought tears to unfocused blue eyes. There was a hiss, and Grimmjow wasn't sure which one of them had made it, but it no longer mattered as razor-like fangs pierced his throat. It started a chain reaction that instantly had Grimmjow reaching for Ulquiorra's neglected cock, hand stroking frantically to make sure the other came first, and at the first pulse Grimmjow released with a gurgled cry.

If they'd been human, it would have ended there, but they weren't, and for every suck Ulquiorra took in his feeding their bodies were besieged with spasms, only to release over and again, until at last they collapsed to the bed. Exhausted. The twitching took an age to pass. Grimmjow was the first to recover, having donated to his vampire lover regularly enough over the centuries to barely be dazed by the blood loss. That and his ability to heal almost anything in a matter of minutes meant that he recovered quickly from most things. He pulled out with care, moved them further up the bed, and tucked Ulquiorra's head under his chin as he wrapped trembling arms around the smaller man.

"I apologise," Ulquiorra finally murmured, his voice hoarse from its recent activities.

"Ya better not be apologisin' 'bout th' best damned sex we've 'ad in forever," Grimmjow ground out through his teeth.

Ulquiorra laughed, the sound so unfamiliar that Grimmjow jerked his head back to look at the expression that went with it. The vampire was smiling faintly, his eyes bouncing with mirth. How long had it been since Grimmjow'd had the utter pleasure of seeing him like this? He couldn't remember, and the tightness in his chest only made the moment all the more precious.

"No, I was apologising for pushing you away this morning," he assured quietly.

"Honey, ya put out like this more often I'll fix a rail ta th' fuckin' ceiling," Grimmjow responded, only half joking. Besides, just because there might be something more comfortable to cling to than jagged rock, it didn't mean Grimmjow had any intention of allowing his lover to leave the other side of their bed permanently empty.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Ichigo swallowed the contents of the vial Urahara Kisuke had given him earlier in the evening, grimacing at the taste. Why was it that every medicine that was supposed to be good for you tasted and smelled like something you'd scooped out of a cesspit? A scowl fixed on his face, Ichigo dropped the empty container into the bin by his desk, and pulled a large leather-bound tome toward himself. It was one he'd borrowed from Urahara just after he'd learned of the Reaper's existence. It described several races of Nightbeasts, and made vague mention of their mortal enemies, who were never actually named. The details weren't all that helpful, for the most part, but he wanted to check again through the largest section which was all about werewolves. They were the most prolific Nightbeast race, and more was known about them than any other creature, most likely as a direct result of the number of casualties they'd been responsible for. It was more likely for a werewolf victim to Turn, than to die from the venom, unlike the other species, who mostly poisoned theirs to death.

Almost absently rubbing at the bite on his leg through his trousers, Ichigo reread the entire section on the Change itself. There was nothing which even hinted at erotic dreams, though there was more than one account of nightmares filled with blood and pain. Though he couldn't be sure whether he'd been human or animal during his own experience, something told him he'd not been dreaming about tearing into the entrails of the werepanter, or vice versa. Which left him with something of a quandary. Ichigo could bring the subject up with Urahara, using his fears for Orihime's health as an excuse – and the shopkeeper might even believe him – to get more research material on the subject, or he could wait and see if the experience was repeated. It could just have been his over-active imagination, combining with needs he'd been neglecting too often recently in favour of other pursuits.

With a sigh, Ichigo leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Rukia was still downstairs with the twins, the three of them having hit it off very quickly. Ichigo had escaped to his room as soon as he could manage it without seeming too rude. He didn't want to be in the same room as the Reaper right now, not when all he could think about in her presence was her earlier statement about killing everyone to undergo the Change come the next full moon.

Ichigo stretched until his joints popped, and scratched at the back of his head. It was too early to go to bed, unless he wanted to be up before the sun rose, and he didn't want to join in with the others downstairs. There was nothing new to learn from the book in front of him, as he'd read it through more than once in the past three months. Which left him wondering what to do now.

A feeling of being watched suddenly shot down his spine as he leaned back in the chair. He turned to look at the shuttered window, a frown forming once more between his eyebrows. Who or what could be watching him through those tiny gaps? They'd have to be able to fly...

The memory of the vampire in his beast-form flashed through his mind, and Ichigo was instantly on his feet, leaning over the bed to press his eye to the glass. Moonlight gleamed over the darkened town, slightly brighter than last night. Brown eyes curiously searched through the shadows, struggling to see if there really was some supernatural demon out there, spying on him. Nothing moved, and there was no discernible reiatsu, but Ichigo couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone there. Waiting in the darkness. He turned from the window, his gaze on the locked bedroom door.

Ichigo's internal debate over whether or not to go out there to check it out for himself was interrupted when there was the lightest of scratches on the glass. He blinked, eyes refocusing with effort only to find that the shutters had been pried open, revealing the upside-down image of long crooked horns, and a tear-streaked white face with a cloud of black hair surrounding it.

Hands shaking with nerves, Ichigo hesitantly unlocked the window. Last night this creature had done nothing to hurt him, and had shown himself to be quite intelligent, which went against everything Ichigo had been told. In fact, none of the Nightbeasts he'd encountered last night had been anything like Ichigo was expecting. The weaker ones were just as stupid and vicious as Rukia and Renji had warned him, but not these more powerful creatures. It was as though they'd somehow retained their human intellect, or maybe with age and strength came reason? He just didn't know.

The window swung outward as the vampire disappeared from view to allow the movement, then Ulquiorra reappeared on the ledge, his taloned feet curled over the lip, wings draped over his crouched figure like a cloak. The strange horns scraped softly against the wooden window frame as green eyes thoughtfully examined the Hunter.

"What do you want?" Ichigo found himself whispering the words, his knees braced on his bed as he stared at the vampire.

"Are you afraid to invite me in?"

There was a long moment of silence, then Ichigo sighed with a swift shake of his head. "That actually works, the invitation, I mean?"

"It does not," and as though to prove it, the vampire stepped forward, his monstrous form falling away to leave a man behind. The same dark-haired, pale-skinned man Ichigo had seen him become the night before. "I was simply asking for the courtesy to be extended."

"Why are you here, now?" Ichigo asked as he slid backward off the bed, and reached behind him for the desk chair. If his eyes kept darting over the other's body – to examine the strange clothing which had appeared out of nowhere when the vampire switched forms – he chose to ignore it. "You and that werepanther let me go."

"You were never ours to keep, Kurosaki Ichigo," Ulquiorra informed him flatly. "However Grimmjow extended you an exclusive invitation of sorts, which makes you part of a very small clan. My clan."

Ichigo shook his head frantically, "I might not Change!"

"Is that what you think? That there is a question of your eligibility to join us?" Ulquiorra tilted his head to one side for all the world like a giant bird trying to determine whether the creature before him was prey or not. Even the look in his eyes was alien in its lack of any emotion Ichigo could name. "We are not waiting for you to Change; you will never be one of Starrk's wolves, Hunter."

The flash of fear which tore through him at those words far surpassed anything he'd ever felt before. It completely shattered his fascination with the whole magically appearing clothes thing. Never be a wolf? The bastard was toying with him, he had to be! "How could you possibly know that?" Ichigo demanded with a low snarl.

Ulquiorra moved so fast Ichigo never saw it. One moment he was balanced on the bed, one hand raised to steady himself against the window, and the next the vampire had a hand wrapped around the back of Ichigo's neck, holding his head still for that dark head to dip down toward the vulnerable skin. Ichigo's heart leapt into his throat, pulse pounding steadily with a disturbing kind of excitement at the other's closeness. A brief struggle convinced him Ulquiorra wasn't going to remove the stone-like grip, and he closed his eyes. The expected bite never came, however, leaving Ichigo confused as Ulquiorra inhaled deeply.

"A..are you sniffing me?"

Green eyes met brown, an all too recognisable emotion now burning in those mossy-green depths. Hunger, he was sure of it. If Ulquiorra wanted him, then why hadn't he bitten him? "I don't know what you are, Kurosaki Ichigo, but you are most certainly not entirely human, and there is no wolf in your scent."

"You lie," Ichigo spat out, but even as he said it he knew it wasn't true. The blood drained out of Ichigo's face, leaving him with a light headed feeling, and a rushing in his ears that sounded like the river in early spring when the run-off from the mountains overflowed its banks. This was what he'd been fearing ever since he'd learned he could call a zanpakuto of his own, just like a Reaper, though he couldn't control its size or shape. Not quite human, but not a Reaper, either. Could he be something else, perhaps?

"Someone has deliberately kept you in the dark," Ulquiorra stated not unkindly, as though he could read Ichigo's mind, and would offer him solace.

"You say you don't know what I am, but you insist I'm one of you," Ichigo pointed out, trying to find the flaw in the vampire's reasoning.

Ulquiorra closed his eyes, and stepped back so that there was breathing space between them once more. It gave Ichigo an unnerving view of elongated fangs as the man spoke, "It cannot be undone, unless I would deny Grimmjow this desire. He asks so little of me."

A knock at the door spun Ichigo toward it before he could ask Ulquiorra to elaborate. There was no chance to say anything before there was the sound of the handle rattling and Rukia's muffled voice; "Are you all right, Ichigo?"

It was hard to swallow, but he somehow managed to squeak out a strangled yes, his eyes widening when he glanced around to find himself alone in his room once more. Disappointment struck unexpectedly, and he sank into the chair before his unsteady legs could betray him. What was wrong with him? Why did he resent the Reaper outside his door, even as he wished the vampire had not abandoned him so abruptly?

It didn't occur to him until much later that he'd never once thought to summon Zangestu in order to defend himself.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Ulquiorra made his way silently from rooftop to rooftop on his way back to the forest. Flying so close to the human settlement would have been an unacceptable risk, especially with the Reapers back from Seireitei. Ichigo was harbouring one of them, and another was searching the other side of Karakura Town. Neither was very powerful on their own, but past experience warned that they were like locusts; where you found one, there were bound to be more nearby. They didn't need to be strong, only numerous enough to overwhelm him. True death was a finality even he could not avoid.

The cool, familiar shadows of the trees welcomed him as Ulquiorra reached their safety. Just two steps beyond sight of the town itself he was halted by a disembodied voice.

"Ya smelt it, din't ya?" Grimmjow stated it like fact, obviously convinced of this.

"Indeed."

"He's not just gonna come ta us, it'll take them lot fuckin' it up ta send him surryin' off inta th' night," Grimmjow continued, to which Ulquiorra could only nod. Kurosaki Ichigo was attracted to the darkness as they were, but he was not going to give in until he had no choice. Unfortunately it would surely come down to it, for the Reapers were not known for their kindness, or understanding of things they didn't understand. To be different was to be a threat, and any threat must be eliminated.

"We can hope it does not come to that," Ulquiorra murmured softly, his words distorted by the length of his fangs. Ichigo had smelt divine, and had felt perfect in his embrace. He'd told the young man that he would not deny Grimmjow's request to have the would-be Reaper join their tiny clan, but just that one brief moment had been enough to make it Ulquiorra's wish, too.

Then Grimmjow interrupted his thoughts with another warning, "Whatever he is, he's not gonna be able ta hide from himself, or them fer much longer."

How incredibly depressing that Ulquiorra agreed with that statement.