Ichigo stretched luxuriously, nestling himself further into a nest of pillows. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so deliciously used, to the point that every muscle in his body trembled in delight and desire.

Four times. They'd done it four times! Ichigo giggled a little to himself. The sheer lust had been absolutely ridiculous. He hadn't been able to think straight, talk straight, hell even walk straight by the time they'd gotten into Ichigo's apartment. They hadn't even made it to the bed the first two times, for god's sake.

There was just something different about letting yourself go completely while in the presence of someone who was almost a complete stranger. It was a total adrenaline rush, that feeling of running your hands over an entirely foreign and unfamiliar body for the first time, learning all their habits and turn-ons, each one a new and enticing surprise.

A rustle on the other side of the bed interrupted his musings, and Ichigo rolled over lazily to watch as Grimmjow slowly extracted himself from the tangle of bedsheets and walked around the room, leisurely gathering up articles of clothing that had been strewn about the room. Absolutely gorgeous, Ichigo thought to himself as he unabashedly watched Grimmjow's trip around the room, muscles rippling as he tugged his pants back on.

Grimmjow did his best to ignore Ichigo's hungry gaze as he focused on zipping his jeans back up. If he turned around and saw that rumpled just-after-sex hair, those lust-filled eyes…he shook his head violently, attempting to dislodge the exact sort of thoughts he'd been trying to avoid. If he made eye contact, he'd probably end up jumping the guy again - or at least trying to. Grimmjow wasn't sure if he was up for yet another round tonight, and he wasn't about to risk it. Besides, he had an early day tomorrow and wanted to sleep at least a couple of hours before heading to work.

"Leaving in the middle of the night? Not planning a dine and dash or something, are ya?" Ichigo said only half-jokingly. He'd had plenty of flings, and enjoyed the hell out of them, but Ichigo felt an inexplicable draw towards Grimmjow, to keep him around. At least try not to embarrass yourself by asking him to stay or something equally ridiculous, he thought, biting at his lip just to make sure nothing accidentally tumbled out. Don't worry, it's probably just the libido talking, he told himself.

Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter. "What, and let someone else take you? Not a chance in hell. You're not getting away that easily," he said, finally risking a sideways glance at Ichigo. The orange head's air of concern had lifted, replaced with the usual playful smile.

"I gotta get back though, it's late and I have to get into work early tomorrow." He winced at the last statement, unsure why he'd brought up work again. This is just asking to get in trouble, he sighed, resolving to get his organization's full cover story the next time he called in to Central.

Ichigo didn't seem to pick up on his gaffe, and nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. I have some stuff to take care of tomorrow, too." Ishida had called in with orders from another client, to be picked up in the morning.

Fortunately, the man had the sense to avoid any mention of their last embarrassing exchange, for which Ichigo was grateful. Ishida was one of the worst people he could think of to accidentally call "Handsome," but the man was a genius when it came to collecting and organizing Ichigo's case files. He even did all of the tedious information-gathering and network building, leaving the far more interesting affairs of execution for Ichigo to handle.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow was becoming increasingly frustrated as he combed through the bedroom yet again, searching for his shirt. It wasn't as if it could have gotten lost - the room was fastidiously clean and tidy.

Ichigo snapped out of his thoughts a few moments later as he realized Grimmjow was still searching fruitlessly for his T-shirt. Reaching into a drawer and pulling out a shirt of his own, he shoved it at Grimmjow as he walked past the bed. "Take it," he said. "I'll find yours and give it back next time. Shut up, I'm sure it'll fit just fine. You're not that much bigger than me," he grumbled as he noted Grimmjow's dubious glance.

"Easy there, I was mainly thinking about the color." Pulling on the proffered dark green tee, Grimmjow walked over to check himself out in the bathroom mirror. "Damn, I look good," he whistled. It smelled nice, too. Like Ichigo.

Ichigo snorted. "You always look good, dumbass," realizing too late that he'd actually said those words out loud.

"What was that you just said?" Grimmjow couldn't suppress a cackle when he saw a deep red blush creep across Ichigo's face.

"No-nothing, just ignore that. Weren't you supposed to be leaving already?" Ichigo grumbled as he pushed a still laughing Grimmjow towards the door.

Once he'd seen Grimmjow off, Ichigo let out a contented sigh, leaning against the wall. Amazing sex and a new case? Things just couldn't get any better.

Grimmjow was in a good mood the next morning. This whole dating thing wasn't so bad after all! He'd expected a lot more boring crap. He also hadn't thought he'd get laid so quickly. Sure, the old movie-and-dinner thing was pretty cliche now that he thought about it, but he'd had a good time just talking and getting to know the dude.

Not to mention the sex was thoroughly mind-blowing. He had to admit, there'd been a moment of doubt as they'd groped and stumbled their way into Ichigo's apartment, only to have the man suddenly break off in the middle of a kiss and begin bombarding him with questions about various STDs.

"What?" Ichigo had said defensively at Grimmjow's expression. "Just making sure, okay? Sex is fine and all but it's hard to do if your dick's fallen off!"

Grimmjow laughed. He had to admit Ichigo had a point, but all the same it was a little bit of a mood killer. He'd gotten over it quickly, though - about as soon as Ichigo had stripped off his shirt and pushed Grimmjow against the wall, plastering their bodies together before picking up where they'd left off.

The workers at the warehouse stared at each other with a combination of apprehension and bafflement. It was probably a mistake, but… they could have sworn they'd just heard their belligerent and intimidating boss walking around the place, humming a tune to himself.

You have three new messages.

Message one: March 23, 9:31 AM

"Hey Grimmjow, it's Ichigo. Yesterday was fun, we should do it again some time. You can set it up this time, okay? And I want my shirt back, so don't forget it."

Message two: March 26, 8:07 PM

"Hey, me again. Just thought I'd check in. Were you late to work or something last time? Sorry if that's the case, but don't hold it against me, okay? Like, it's not really my fault, now is it? You probably should have set an alarm or something. So anyways, it's cool if you're busy or something right now. Just call me and let me know, okay? Or leave a message."

Message three: April 5, 8:18 PM

"Hey, fuck you. One-night stands are fine and all, but you don't gotta be an asshole about it. Grow a pair and tell me to my face, don't be some chickenshit liar. Keep the shirt, I don't wanna see your sorry face again. Bastard!"

No more messages at this time. Press one to replay, two to save, three to -

Grimmjow sighed, flipping shut his phone before tossing it onto the couch. He sank into the cushions next to it, tiredly running a hand through his hair. Shit. The past two weeks had already been a total disaster, and now this was happening. One of the shipments leaving from Warehouse 4 had been intercepted by the cops before reaching its destination, and the organization had gone into emergency mode, notifying all nine of the other branches.

The bust had been too well-timed to be a coincidence; Central suspected an informant from within their own ranks. After just two days, the mole had been weeded out - and summarily executed - before operation had returned to normal.

But before the work day had even ended, Grimmjow received word of another crisis, this time at Warehouse 5. He shook his head at the memory, still somewhat in disbelief.

The phone on the wall was ringing. Grimmjow frowned - only a select amount of people had the number for it. Calls were rare, and they were seldom ever good news. Leaving his crew to continue loading without him, he jogged over to pick it up. It wasn't really a landline - too easy to wiretap - but for some reason his boss had insisted on making it look like one of those ancient phones with circular dials and separate ear and mouth pieces. Grimmjow scowled, fumbling with the cord before holding up what he hoped was the right end to his ear.

"Warehouse 6 here. What's up?"

A terse voice on the other end confirmed his suspicion. "Trouble. Warehouse 5 - we got confirmation of delivery, but the escort never made it back.

Grimmjow swore. "Police again?"

"No. Warehouse 5 has been rendered unusable - all scheduled shipments from that location are to be redirected to Warehouse 6. You will be expanding operation capacity for an indefinite period of time until we can rebuild Warehouse 5." The man spoke so quickly Grimmjow wasn't sure if he'd heard him right.

"Hang on - what? You want me to double the shipments we're sending out? That's impossible! We might have the infrastructure - might - for half of what number 5 was dealing plus ours, but all of it? Not a chance! Send some over to another warehouse!" Grimmjow protested, recoiling at the thought of handling such an impossible flood of illegal arms, drugs, and various black market goods.

"Impossible," the caller replied, throwing his words back at him. "The only other geographically suitable port is number 4, and you know what happened there. Can't trust the line as it is, especially not with more volume. Central's already sent out orders, someone will be there to meet with you shortly." The caller hung up the phone before Grimmjow could argue any further, leaving the blue-haired man to stew.

Fuck. The entire warehouse had already been on high-alert for the past two days, waiting for number 4 to clean-up house. He hadn't been home since the incident had started, opting instead to doze off in the building's lounge. It wasn't bad, as far as living spaces went - full bath, a closet full of clean clothes - because work schedules were erratic and the organization wanted to ensure its employees were well rested. Still, it just wasn't the same as his own flat, and Grimmjow had been looking forward to a break.

A warm bath, some mind-numbing TV, maybe even a visit to Ichigo... That had all gone to hell as soon as Warehouse 5 had seemingly collapsed on itself.

"Grimmjow!" The man in question turned, mood slightly lifting as he saw a green-haired beauty walking towards him.

He didn't like many of the representatives Central often sent over, but Nel was one of the few he didn't hate - easy on the eyes, and a notorious gossip. If you wanted to learn anything about Central, Nel was the one to talk to. "So you're the one Central sent over, Nel? Please tell me you know what's going on, this shit's insane!"

Nel squirmed apologetically. "Yeah, the rumors flying around are crazy. You've got a lot of work cut out for you. Central is sending a couple of people to move everything from number 5 over here, and I'm supposed to give you this list of times and locations - here -" at this she handed over a black flash drive, "but after that, you're basically on your own."

Grimmjow looked at her in surprise. "Central's the one moving things over? Why not the people in 5?"

"Umm…apparently there's no one left," Nel said hesitantly, as if she didn't believe her own words.

"WHAT? You mean the feds caught everyone? They're not sending me any new workers to deal with this? You gotta be shitting me. What's going on, anyway? The guy at Central wouldn't tell me anything." Grimmjow clenched his hands in frustration. He forced himself to relax a little - it wouldn't do to take it out on Nel before she'd even told him anything useful. Fuck, he thought for the second time in less than ten minutes.

"Not caught - dead." Nel whispered conspiratorially, relishing the look of astonishment that widened Grimmjow's eyes. This was one of the most interesting stories she'd come across in a long time.

"So here's what I've heard - the escorts never reported back in, so Number 5 waited about half an hour before calling it in. In the middle of the call, this racket breaks out. The operator on our end says she heard screams and what she thought were gunshots with a silencer. Number 5 shouts something - we're not sure what - then drops the phone and rushes off. He doesn't come back. So Central sends a team to check out the situation, obviously. And guess what they found?" She paused for dramatic effect.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Spit it out already, I'm not in the mood for games."

Nel grinned, already used to her coworker's brusque manner. "Everyone was dead. Every single one of them - one of the guys they sent told me the place had blood splattered all over the place. You're going to have to clean off some of the cargo before you can ship it out, unless your customers are okay with rusty goods." She paused at Grimmjow's groan. "But - here's the best part - they weren't killed with a gun. Not a single bullet wound in any of them, so we don't have anything to go off. Guess what it was?"

Grimmjow bit back a rude remark. Nel's constant guessing game was getting on his nerves, but he couldn't help the curiosity. "What was it?"

She leaned in, a strange light glinting in her eyes. Grimmjow unconsciously leaned forward himself, dipping his head lower to hear. The whisper in his ear sent an involuntary shiver through his body.

"Arrows."

Nel had been right, he really did have his work cut out for him - Grimmjow had been forced to scramble together all the temp workers, every local contact he knew in order to compensate for the huge influx of new cargo he had unwillingly taken charge of. It'd taken him more than a week spent living at the warehouse to get things under any semblance of control.

But he'd managed to accomplish the impossible - smoothly integrate the delivery and pick-up schedules of both Warehouses 5 and 6 - in record time. He deserved a goddamned promotion. If they weren't going to give him one, he was at the very least going to take a well-earned vacation.

Grimmjow usually didn't have to show up in person for most of the deliveries, but he'd had no choice for these. He bolted as soon as it looked like Yammy, his subordinate, could handle things himself. The guy was a little slow in the head but exceedingly loyal - and incredibly strong - so Grimmjow didn't feel too worried leaving him in charge. The guy could probably reflect arrows cartoon-style off his preposterously bulging muscles, if it came down to it.

He had pushed out the thought of Ichigo until he'd gotten home and listened to the string of messages. He couldn't really blame the guy for getting pissed off - he remembered feeling the same way a month ago when his own call had gone unreturned for a week. Still, Grimmjow never brought his phone with him to his job - not ever. Work and personal life didn't mix.

Not that he had much of a personal life, he thought darkly to himself. Maybe he'd go down to the bar, pick someone up for a quick fuck? He sighed. He couldn't forget the sight of that lean, tanned body writhing under him, the siren-like voice that had moaned his name as he reached his own climax. And that laughter - Grimmjow just couldn't explain his fixation with it. Should he try calling back? He'd probably get hung up on. Still…Grimmjow picked up the phone from the couch and picked out Ichigo from his contacts list. He owed it to the best sex of his life to at least give it another shot.

Ichigo looked up from his paperwork in annoyance, striding over to pick up his ringing phone. He noted the display - unknown caller - before accepting the call and holding the phone up to his ear. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"I know who you are," a familiar voice replied after a brief hesitation. "I didn't think you'd pick up, though."

"Who is thi- Grimmjow? What the fuck do you want? And don't get the wrong idea, I only picked up because I'd already deleted your number, asshole. I'm busy. You have fifteen seconds to convince me not to hang up." Ichigo spat, tempted to hang up the phone anyway.

It was only a slight curiosity - and the fact that he hated paperwork - that kept him from doing so. Or maybe it's because he fucked you senseless and you loved every minute of it, a small, unbidden voice whispered in the back of his mind. He ignored it.

"I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I really wasn't planning on a one-night stand, I swear." Grimmjow paused, trying to read the silence on the other end. He took the fact that Ichigo hadn't hung up yet as a good sign.

"Some things just came up that I had to…deal with. Called you as soon as I got back, though." This time he heard a snort on the other end as Ichigo heard his own words mirrored back at him. "Seriously, I haven't even been home for two weeks, and work really sucked. I didn't know or I would've told you beforehand. Forgive me? Won't happen again, I promise."

Ichigo wrestled with himself for a while, torn between resentment and a strange happiness. He would have done the same thing if a job came up, so he couldn't really fault Grimmjow for that. And he had to give the guy credit, he had some balls if he'd decided to call back despite the fuming message Ichigo had left. Someone on a booty call wouldn't have risked it, right? Sure, go with that reasoning if it makes you feel any better, the voice in his head from earlier muttered. "Fine, you're forgiven," he huffed after a moment, trying not to sound too cheerful. He didn't want to come off as a pushover. "Just don't make it a habit."

Grimmjow released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Cool," he grinned into the phone. "So what now, I gotta arrange a date or something? When are you free?"

"How about tonight? I've been bored out of my mind," Ichigo moaned, the sound shooting straight to Grimmjow's groin. He'd heard that noise before, although in a very different context.

"Don't wanna sound unwilling, but it's like midnight already and I'm way too tired to go out to any of the sorta places that'd still be open," Grimmjow said regretfully. Most of his initial exhaustion had evaporated during his phone call with Ichigo, but he really wasn't in the mood to go to some smelly club with sweaty people.

"Who said anything about going out? You too tired to just come over?" Ichigo's voice sounded amused, teasing.

Grimmjow perked up. "No, I think I could manage that."

"Sounds like a plan. See, you're not so bad at arranging things after all," Ichigo said as he hung up.

A/N: So I skipped the actual smut, hahah...and the plot is actually moving somewhere. I think. Read and review! The more comments I get the faster I'll release the next chapter! It's mostly written, I just have some proofreading to do.