CHAPTER 7
Being casually dominant seemed to come naturally to the young King, and combined with his superb reiatsu control he was proving himself a fair and fit leader of the palace. When accosted, he usually kept it down to broken bones at worst for the "lesson", though it wasn't often that he needed more then a quick thumping with his sword hilt to being the offender down. The first time he'd blocked a sword with his bare wrist and come out without a scratch had scared the hell out of him, but he did it nearly all the time now. He remembered Grimmjow doing that at their first meeting, and with how tightly he kept his reiatsu leashed it wasn't surprising his skin more than rivaled even Nnoitra's heirro. He could feel it struggling to break free from time to time, pressing against his skin until he thought it would burst from the pressure. Terrifyingly, his power was still growing, even though he wasn't working to deliberately force it to anymore. It was as though his make-it-or-break-it training had flipped a switch in him somewhere and now his power would continue to grow by leaps and bounds until his death, perhaps into eternity if he lived immortally as a vizard. It was a scary and distressing thought, and he expressed this to Grimmjow and Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra had said that after a few decades his power would have to level out just to give his body time to adjust to it before it made any more leaps if it was going to make any at all, and when that had done little to calm him Grimmjow had given him a quick one-armed hug and informed him bluntly that the stronger he was, the scarier he was, and thus the more effective a ruler he would be, with less attempts on his life. The thought of fewer assassins after him successfully cheered the teen up.
At present, Ichigo was walking towards the Throne Room (which he'd already had redone to make it less obnoxiously arrogant and ostentatious) to address the Espada that remained alive. His tail swished behind him, having stopped hiding his true nature days ago, and his ears flicked as they twisted and turned to catch every sound they possibly could. After his little episode with the nameless female he'd been accepted more or less unquestioningly, so he felt comfortable enough in himself and his Kingdom to let his hybridism show (which, coincidentally, also put his emotions on display to anyone who cared to read them). He'd just stepped into the room when he was pounced on with a cry. He scooped Nel into his hold with the ease of long practice, holding her against his hip as Peregrine trailed him up to the throne. He hadn't quite made it when Ulquiorra approached, bypassing his usual deep bow for a short bob that was barely a bow at all—a gesture that told Ichigo that something truly serious was up. Ulquiorra, no matter how Ichigo scolded, always bowed. The habit was too ingrained for him to resist. "Report, First Advisor Ulquiorra."
His black-green eyes showed the slightest hint of relief to be called on first to give his report. "We have intruders, Kurosaki-sama, both humans and shinigami, headed this way. What are your orders?"
Ichigo adjusted the squirming girl on his hip and dropped the other hand to pet Peregrine's head. "How many shinigami and how many humans? If you have a visual report, I will need to see it to give an accurate judgment." A 'visual report' was what he had taken to calling Ulquiorra's eye-illusion trick.
Ulquiorra bowed, deeply this time. "My apologies, my Liege, I have no visual report. Shall I bring one?"
Ichigo shook his head. "That will not be necessary, First Advisor Ulquiorra. My friends and family are human, so if the humans and shinigami are approaching as one group, I have to assume that they either come peacefully or they are holding my humans hostage. Either way, responding with violence is not an option at this point in time. Ulquiorra, you will go to meet them and escort them straight here. Do you think it would be prudent to take another Espada with you in the case of the situation being hostile?"
Ulquiorra nodded, obviously trying not to be insulted; coming from anyone else, that would be an insinuation that he was too weak to handle the situation himself, but in Ichigo's case he was only being cautious. If the situation turned bad, Ulquiorra could attack them while someone else spirited the important ones back to Los Noches. When one was a King, one cannot afford to be reckless with the lives of his men, his protectorate, or his trusted Court members. Ichigo, already protective by nature, was made only more cautious and protective now that he was King. Tilting his head slightly, the pale Arrancar inquired softly, "Who should I take with me, my King?"
Ichigo shrugged. "Whoever you want, Ulquiorra, except for Grimmjow. I need him with me in the case of this being a trick by Soul Society trying to attack us or me personally while what they assume is our main force goes to meet the approaching human and shinigami."
Ulquiorra was delighted to be given the choice himself, taking Zommari along for his deferential nature and his incredible sonido, which was second only to Ichigo's himself. If a quick strike was needed to rescue "Ichigo's" humans, Zommari could have them in his arms and halfway back to Las Noches before the shinigami could even draw their swords. Since his more 'permanent' return to Hueco Mundo two and a half weeks ago, Ichigo had been changing slightly, and nobody dared to comment, Ulquiorra mused as he flashed over the dunes. He never went anywhere without Grimmjow now, and he'd started using possessive nouns quite often in his speech. He also had developed a tendency to refer to himself as 'we' when angry or speaking of official business, although if that was from the royal 'we' or not only he knew. It didn't matter in any case—the King was the King and Ichigo was too good and kind of a King for them to want him overthrown, so such matters were his business and his alone. The two came to an abrupt stop before the group, sand billowing out in the wind that whistled past them from the speed. As the shinigami and humans protected their faces with whatever cloth was within reach, Ulquiorra took the opportunity to study them. He vaguely recognized the red-haired soul reaper at the head of the pack from his King's description, as well as a white-haired young one and a massive man with spiked black hair. When the sand settled and they laid eyes on him, it was the redhead who stepped forward, his tone polite and his body language non-aggressive. "We would like to see your King. Ichigo Kurosaki is a good friend of ours."
Ulquiorra merely nodded and gestured for them to follow him; his King awaited their return.
Stretching in his throne chair, at that particular moment Ichigo didn't look much like a King. His toes were spread, his feet were arched (in a very cat-like manner), his back was bowed, his tail was curled, and he was purring very loudly from the pleasant burn of a long, hard stretch with his hands anchoring him to the arms of the chair. Grimmjow was busy drooling over the long, lean body on display, but he nevertheless was aware enough to bop a lower Arrancar on the head when it tried to sneak past him. It was only a young one wanting to see the King for himself, but he couldn't be allowed to approach while Ichigo was vulnerable. When stretching, he had his guard down, so even the young ones weren't allowed to approach. He collapsed back down into the chair, tail flicking happily, and gestured the young one closer, Grimmjow letting him past this time. Yawning, Grimmjow went up to the throne and sat himself comfortably at Ichigo's feet, his pride instinct demanding he be close to his Leader. He'd rather be laying in a pile with Ichigo and the rest of his chosen pride, but the throne wasn't big enough for both of them so he settled for sitting at his feet. Ichigo almost always protested this, having explained such a move was degrading and humiliating among humans, but Grimmjow couldn't find any fault with it personally so he continued to do it when Ichigo wasn't looking. It also had the effect of making Ichigo flustered as all hell, which he thoroughly enjoyed.
When Ichigo sent the little one on his way, he let his hand fall into Grimmjow's hair and scratched his scalp lightly, almost like he was petting him. The panther's eyes drifted shut and he purred, leaning back into the hand. Feeling a large group on the way, he peeled open one eye to stare at the door and then looked down at himself. With Ichigo's rule had come a lack of required clothing and uniforms, so the various inhabitants had returned to wearing whatever they were comfortable with. Grimmjow was most comfortable naked, but Ichigo did have a mandatory clothing rule that necessitated you covered your "naughty bits", which meant that males were required to wear at least loincloths if nothing else, and females had to wear something to cover their chests as well as a loincloth at the very least. Grimmjow himself preferred as little clothing as possible and wore only a small leather loincloth that was just big enough to cover him and a delicate gold chain that led down from collarbone and spine to attach to the loincloth string and looped his shoulders. The chain declared his status as First General and Primary Court Member, so he never took it off if he could help it. Still, it could be considered indecent…perhaps he should dress up for the company that was coming? Hmmm…nah. He was more than good enough as is. What could be more impressive than him at his finest, anyway? Returning to his closed-eyes-and-purring position, he snuggled up to Ichigo's leg comfortably and reveled in being allowed to touch whatever and whenever he wanted. Truly, it was a gift he did not deserve, but he wasn't about to mention that.
Feeling something tickle the side of his neck, he turned into the touch and found his King had pressed a kiss there, which pleased him to no end. Ichigo had become physically very affectionate, a byproduct of his feline nature, and Grimmjow considered himself lucky to be the main target of these affections because he was the nearest other known feline. That redheaded shinigami, Renji, was the Gamma, he knew, but that was the second lieutenant in the Pride and left the Beta position open. Of course, the Beta was also usually the mate of the Alpha, the Leader, and Ichigo had no mate yet. That brought up an interesting thought, actually. Ichigo would be expected to take a Consort eventually and though it wasn't required to be any time soon he would need to declare at least two Intendeds within a few weeks. Courtship could of course last years or even decades, but you needed to have an Intended or two to prove you were looking to take a mate eventually. That sort of reassurance was needed, because it would be assumed Ichigo would take a Hollow mate, and the mate could help Ichigo with anything he was unfamiliar with. He'd need to talk to Ichigo about that later. Right now though, Ulquiorra was escorting the group of humans and shinigami to the throne room and they were getting pretty close, so he sat up straight and prepared to greet their guests. One hand on his sword, the other perched on Ichigo's knee to monitor his tenseness and perceived threat levels. With the visiting group being one Ichigo was familiar with, it was best to take cues from him.
Still absently petting Grimmjow's hair, Ichigo wasn't surprised to see the group consisted of mostly people he would trust with his life—he'd been analyzing their reiatsu from the moment they'd appeared in his sensory range. It was an automatic reflex because he'd had to start doing that all the time now that there were people out to kill him and he had to decide who was safe to let approach and who was not. In this case it was safe, though he was a bit curious as to why they'd come. He had intended to go fetch his family once he was comfortably instated and settled in as King (and thus reducing the possible threats on their lives) and they had come, but so had Ishida and Chad and Orihime and at least…four soul reapers. He also thought he felt Hat-N-Clogs at the back of the group, but wasn't sure about that. When the doors opened, Ichigo easily batted aside his old man (smiling a little at his cries of "My manly son has kept up his reflexes! Daddy's so proud!") while silently thanking whatever diplomat had been sent by whichever faction to explain things to his family and raised his eyebrow at Renji. "It is good to see you again, my gamma, but I have to wonder what brought you into my realm. What's the sitch?"
Renji gave him a respectful bow, doing his best to look and sound formal. "Greetings to you, King Kurosaki, from Soul Society. We were sent to see if you would consider negotiations with us for peace between our two worlds. If you agree, we are to open said negotiations as soon as possible…my Alpha." Ichigo's eyes skimmed the small crowd, landing on someone he'd never thought he'd see in the Desert of Death and another that worried him.
"Of course I'm willing to give negotiations a try! I have too many pride members in Soul Society to want to see it destroyed—please, make yourselves comfortable, there are plenty of seats. Ukitake-san, please sit down. You're lookin' much paler than usual—Marri, get Captain Ukitake a seat, a blanket, and some medicinal tea, please."
Marri, one of the many servants that attended to Ichigo's whims, brought a blanket out of seemingly nowhere and got Ukitake seated and the blanket comfortably tucked around his lower body, fussing over him slightly before leaving to get the tea. Most of the servants were still fairly subdued in nature from Aizen, but Marri was very maternal and would nag you to make sure you stayed in good health; assigning her to the eternally-afflicted Ukitake would give her someone to fuss over and him someone to see to any need he may have. Ichigo suspected he was afflicted with tuberculosis and the only thing that kept it from killing him was his reiatsu, which burned at the illness, but that was just a theory. After batting his father out of the way one more time and everyone was seated and ready to proceed, Renji asked permission to open up a direct line of communications via a screen. It was the kind that had been set up in Orihime's house, only this time it was attached to a convenient rock for stability rather than the walls. Yamamoto-soutaichou was already on screen, his expression grave and his cane in hand as always. They exchanged the overly-formal-and-stupid greetings as all leaders of opposing sides tend to do, and Ichigo crossed his legs in his chair as he got right down to it. He always was one to tackle things head-on.
"My gamma tells me you're looking to negotiate. What, exactly, are you negotiating with us over?" Grimmjow, resting his chin on Ichigo's leg to get a better look at the people gathered around the room in a more or less circular shape, noted the tightening of the old man's eyes. Or rather, eye slits, as it seemed he was so old and wrinkled the folds of loose skin actually obscured them.
"We wish to make peace between you and Soul Society. We knew Aizen Sosuke could not be reasoned with, but with you taking his place we hope that the senseless slaughter he had planned can be avoided."
Ichigo wanted to snort, but that would be undignified so he didn't. Did they really think he had taken over as King just to start a needless war that would endanger everything he held dear? "Of course it can, Yamamoto-san. We didn't destroy Aizen just so we could proceed with that which we killed him to stop. There is little I want to avoid more than the Winter War he was planning. I'm only King because…well, I killed Aizen. By the Laws of Hollows, whoever defeats the current King becomes the next King because power is everything. With Aizen being the strongest around, even if not officially initiated as King, me killing him makes us King by default. So Ulquiorra explains it, anyway."
The first day of negotiations did not go well; most of the time was spent explaining Hollow custom and law to the Soul Reapers, fending off the odd attack from his father, and taking frequent breaks so he wouldn't start banging his head against the nearest wall. He got his family settled in rooms very close to his own, so that his personal guard (handpicked by Grimmjow and Ulquiorra) could defend them easily, and set the soul reapers up in 'buddy systems' of two to a room and advised them to keep their swords handy. Rebels were crawling out of the sands and stonework, so there was only a measure of safety that could be guaranteed at any one time. Speaking of rebels, he knew where they were flocking to in preparation to organize an uprising against him; the Menos Forest. Hmmmmmm…come to think of it, he could use a little stress relief right now. He wanted to play; in fact, he wanted to play his favorite game since he had become a Hybrid. The game itself was simple—it was the actual doing that was difficult and made it worth the fun of trying. First things first, though—he had to get an extra set of clothes.
Ten minutes later, Ichigo was flash-stepping across the sands, Grimmjow at his side (he wasn't allowed to go ANYWHERE without his First General because he was also his personal bodyguard) and trying desperately to convince him that diplomatic negotiations with the rebels was a really bad idea. Shiro, though on better terms [with his partner now], was bitching at his King about how he should just go and have a little fun, not unwind from work with more work and that he was being stupid. His hollow abruptly went quiet, however, when he felt a surge of dark amusement wrap around him that seemed to say, If only you knew.
Grimmjow, on the other hand, didn't shut up until they were nearly on top of the rebels and then he only did it because it would imply he wasn't confident in his monarch's decisions if he questioned him within earshot of anyone or anything else. He was usually extremely confident in all of Ichigo's decisions, but when it came to this particular one he was afraid his King was out of his mind. The assembled leaders around them started when they came to a stop directly in front of them, their sonido making it appear as though they had simply sprung up out of nowhere. His ear flicking slightly as they ever-blowing wind disturbed the fine, highly sensitive hairs inside it, he let his tail sweep casually by his knee. "A tactical meeting? Perfect! I wanted to talk to you about this little rebellion of yours." His whiskers twitched as a cero blasted past him, deflected by the natural strength of the reiatsu boiling around him. A more purposeful flick of his tail sent a concentrated ball of reiatsu at the offender in question, who was bowled over and tumbled a few feet but was otherwise unharmed. Let them think it was an accident (Shiro began to giggle as he realized exactly what his King was up to, and it would be a fun game indeed). "It seems entirely unnecessary," he continued, "considering I'll listen to anyone who asks for an audience with me. You could've just talked to me. Why doesn't anyone just wanna talk these days? Well, at least the Shinigami are making an effort. Better effort than you, anyway." Another cero was deflected by his reiatsu and though he controlled his other reactions he couldn't keep his whiskers from twitching irritably. "I suggest you control your subordinates. You can't lead for shit, y'know that? Even I can keep my lower ranks in line when I have company, and I'm not even officially King yet!" One of the younger Vasto Lorde finally gave in to his instinct and reacted to the insult, leaping at Ichigo with a cry of raw fury. "Oh dear," Ichigo sighed as, before ever reaching him, the Lorde fell to the ground in pieces, dissolving even as he fell. "And here I was hoping I'd be able to play the game a little longer."
Grimmjow watched in awe as, with three calculated moves, Ichigo turned what had been a semi-army into a writhing, screaming, animalistic mass of blood and flesh and terror. First, he'd cut up the hollow. Second, he'd spoken of ending a 'game'. Third… he transformed. Rippling up from his toes to his ears, fur burst through flesh, bones snapped and stretched and rearranged, claws sprouted from paws and his size increased until he burst through his shredded clothes. The good relations with his hollow had an effect on this form—the armour was now more extensive, his fangs and claws larger and sharper to be more deadly, and when he began to maul his way through the mass below it became apparent that his speed had at least tripled. Of course, the smell of blood had an immediate effect; the carcasses that hadn't dissolved yet were set upon immediately by the ravenous horde, the stupid creatures too occupied with devouring all they could to even acknowledge the hollows falling all around them. Occasionally he could appear as a human, naked as the day he was born, his sword scything through them like wheat, before orange fur would flash again and the enormous cat was back, jaws cracking open a hollow mask as easily as a bird would a seed. Between orange flashes, you could catch the barest glimpse of the moonlight glinting off blood-wet claws as hollows screamed and exploded into a pile of steaming flesh and blood. Most of the lower ranks were decimated in less than five minutes, and at the five-minute mark exactly the giant feline sat himself down in the middle of the killing field and began to casually lick his paws clean.
"What a pity…I couldn't get you all. No matter, there will be other days for other games." The words came from Ichigo, obviously, though his mouth never moved and he began to wash his face. "Now, I could either play another game tonight…or come back and play one game each night the Shinigami are here. Whaddya think, Grimmjow?"
From the giant rock he'd taken a seat on to watch the show, the First General pretended to think. "Hmmm…well, the Shinigami are insanely annoyin'…mebbe ya'd be less stressed if ya let 'em live and played with 'em. Just until the Shinigami're gone, ne? An' ya shoulda told me ya were playin', I woulda liked ta join in!"
Licking at his elbow now, Ichigo nodded. "Alright, Rebel bitches, my First General has spoken—you get to live another day. We'll see how long you survive my games. C'mon, Grimmjow, we better get back before my old man scares the servants too badly."
"Don't ferget me, King!" Another massive cat, exactly like Ichigo but pure white with gray spots and orange markings where Ichigo had red, padded up onto the rock Grimmjow sat on and began cleaning himself of blood as well.
The orange feline jumped up and rubbed cheeks with him as everyone else, including Grimmjow, stared in confusion and astonishment. "Of course not, Shiro! We go together, always together."
The paler cat purred, giving his King a few licks and then leaping from the rock. "Race ya back t'the palace!" Laughing, Ichigo followed after, Grimmjow following both with the bundle of clothes held close to his chest. When Ichigo eventually returned to human form, he'd want them.
While Ichigo and his General were occupied outside of Las Noches, most of the shinigami had gathered together to discuss everything they'd learned and seen today rather than sleep. Of course, hollow custom was rehashed, corrected, and questioned, but once that was exhausted Renji brought up something that had been bugging him since he'd arrived. "Ichigo is King, ain't 'e? Don't that mean he'll need…a harem? He needs heirs, an' the more of 'em, the better…they'd usually be 'round the throne t'show 'em off when he's got guests." This started off whole new rounds of speech, everything from denials about how Ichigo just wasn't like that and wouldn't do that to someone to speculations of who he would choose for his harem if he had one, which of course brought up Ichigo's already-questioned sexuality. Through those lengthy arguments, one person in particular stayed extremely quiet.
At length, head tilted to the side, finger to her lips, Orihime asked quietly, "Did anyone else notice Grimmjow-san kneeling next to Ichigo the whole time we were there?"
All discussion stopped dead. It was Yoruichi who continued. "Yeah, come to think of it…he didn't seem to be wearing much, either. And he stayed awfully close by Ichigo…he seemed oddly docile and quiet, too. I remember him being more…aggressive and violent and…loud." Looks were interchanged, and theories began to once again fly, getting more outrageous by the moment as the possibility of Grimmjow being Ichigo's sex slave came to the forefront, was disparaged and discarded, then dragged back under scrutiny because there were certain requirements for Kings, whether they liked it or not, and having multiple people in your bed was one of them.
The men in question were blissfully unaware of this speculation and were at the moment meandering through the sands, Ichigo and Shiro having rejoined and the former returning to human form and dressing in the clothes Grimmjow dutifully handed him. Mildly interested in what he'd seen, but more than impressed, Grimmjow was being careful to keep his mouth shut. He could tell his King was still in the strange place between calm and deadly playful. He could go off again at any time, and Grimmjow was already on thin ice, First General or no. He knew full well he had nowhere near made up for the shit he'd done and probably only held this much power and prestige because Ichigo didn't know anyone else that he could've given the job to.
"Hey, Grimmjow."
His head jerked up, all his attention automatically focusing on his liege. "Yes?"
Ichigo was looking thoughtful and a little curious. "Baby, did you even know what game I was playing back there?"
Grimmjow shivered a little at the affectionate term. He wanted to believe it was sincere, but he knew better. Ichigo developed odd speech patterns when he wasn't feeling himself. "Yeah. First you played 'Oblivious' and then ya played 'Time Limit'. I've played myself a time 'r two."
Ichigo's tail flicked happily, though he kept his eyes forward. "Oh, you call it 'Oblivious' then—I call it 'Dumb Human' but I think I like your name better. Whaddya suppose I oughta play tomorrow?"
Grimmjow chewed on his knuckles as he thought. The only thing he missed about his Espada uniform was he'd been able to chew on the high collar when he was frustrated or bored. "Ya could play Time Limit again, 'r mebbe 'Teamwork'. Teamwork's fun when ya got three 'r more players."
The orange ears swiveled in his direction. "I haven't played Teamwork before. Yeah, that might be fun."
Back in the palace proper, Ichigo yawned widely, tongue curling, ears flat—a perfect picture of exhaustion. His reiatsu, meanwhile, was so thick and strong as to be visible, which declared for all the world to hear that he could take on most likely the entirety of the Hollow Army and win. If he had brought the reiatsu into his body, he would be as hyperactive as a three year old on sugar right now, but since he was keeping it more or less pushed outward he had allowed himself to become tired. He'd also ordered for stronger reiatsu-eaters to be looked into, since the ones he'd had he'd accidentally left behind in the Human World and his position as King was still too unstable to go retrieve them. No matter right now—right now, he was going to go to sleep. "C'mon, Grimmjow," he yawned again, "let's head off to bed."
"Of course, my King." Though not spoken in a mocking tone, Ichigo knew the panther's brand of sarcasm and whacked him with his armored tail, ignoring it when the bigger man just laughed. Since this was said as they passed by the room the Soul Reapers had congregated in, this of course set off several chain reactions they would be fully unaware of until the morrow. They two did sleep in the same room, occasionally the same bed, but not for any such depraved reason as his friends speculated. Quite frankly, it was all because Grimmjow was a stubborn fuck. Specifically, he refused to allow Ichigo to sleep unguarded; though his uncontrolled reiatsu could and would crush any hostile creature that entered the room, Grimmjow absolutely insisted on guarding him while he slept and, when Grimmjow needed to sleep himself, he would share the bed so that if someone sought to murder the King in his bed Grimmjow would be there to take the blow and murder the assassin.
This issue caused five vicious, explosive fights in the first few days after Ichigo had appointed Grimmjow First General.
Ichigo woke in a way that was quickly becoming familiar- with a bare chest in his face and a heavy arm slung over his hip. His ear flicked due to hot breath tickling it, and his tail slowly unwound from the wrist it held hostage. Though tempted to give Grimmjow a little nip to wake up, instead he rolled out of bed and let the displacement of weight startle him awake. "Shower," he grunted, shedding his sleep robe as he headed for the bathroom, and Grimmjow gave a low growl of acknowledgement. Grimmjow freaked out if he didn't know where Ichigo was at any given moment, so the teenager tried his hardest to make sure the man always knew. A freaked-out Grimmjow was an ugly, ugly thing—blood and entrails everywhere… When he emerged from the shower he entered the bedroom naked, toweling his hair dry (unknowing of the strangled whimper Grimmjow muffled in the sheets) and with his tail twisting contently, just about ready to face the day. But first, he had a promise to keep… "Shiro! Get out here while I go find someone to make us breakfast." The white male appeared at his side, using condensed reiatsu as his medium for materializing.
"Mornin', King. Don' be long now—ya know how Grimmy hates ta let ya go out alone." Around another just-waking-up yawn, the Death Berry nodded and then trudged out of the room sleepily. Knowing he had very little time, Shiro immediately hissed at Grimmjow, waking him fully with a start and a snarl. Growling in return, he leapt on the bed and pinned the larger man by his shoulders. "Ya fuckin' idiot."
Watching the white male above him, the hollow's ears flattened with angry urgency, Grimmjow's eyes were wide and he couldn't help his ears sharpening. This was someone who was more or less half of his beloved and current King. "I was a'ready aware o' that fact," he replied a little breathlessly.
Another growl came from Shiro. "Don't ya fuckin' realize King ain't still mad at you? He don' just nuzzle an' touch ya because yer the nearest other cat, he's got me if tha' was the case—he genuinely likes ya! But ya ain't showin' no interest an' he's gonna give up soon; ya really wanna give up a chance ta mate my King just 'cuz yer still scared from yer last screwup? Ya started the Courtship, I remember even if King don', now see yer shit through 'r yer gonna lose him entirely. He's already eyein' Stark an' Hallibel an' Renji—he knows 'e needs a queen, a Consort, an' if ya don' step forward as a potential yer gonna get passed over fer a goddamned dog."
That made his pride bristle, and he hissed back, "After he just lost his kits was not a good time for Courtship and he's still hurtin'! Ya can't expect me ta all o' a sudden return ta it! I gotta ease 'im in!"
With a low reprimand, Shiro nipped his collarbone hard. "Then do it. Yer door's still almost half-open, but I betta see ya tryin' fer his heart before it's quarter-shut!"
Though Grimmjow had no idea what Shiro was talking about, there was no time to ask for clarification because they heard Ichigo's footsteps returning just then.
"Kilan's bringin' it," he informed them, not caring that they were rather intimately pressed together. If Shiro wanted Grimmjow, all he had to do was ask and he was well aware of that. What was his was also Shiro's if he cared to claim it. Climbing onto the bed with them, he stretched himself over their legs and pillowed his cheek on his hollow's back.
The white felid tilted his head, ears twitching as he twisted around to look at Ichigo. "Somethin' tha matta, King?"
Ichigo's ears were flattened, indicating irritation, and his tail was lashing intermittently. "Rangiku, Orihime, and Yoruichi were in th'hall an' they took one look at me an' laughed. Wouldn' tell me why. Tha's always, always a bad sign."
Shiro's ear tilted as he thought. "Any bets on it bein' connected ta their 'yaoi' obsession?"
After a second, Ichigo's ears slicked back fully and he groaned. "Oh please Jesus let it not be the yaoi obsession. It probably is."
Shiro licked Ichigo's ear to soothe him, and Grimmjow stroked his tail, the combination of which turned their King promptly into a little pile of purring goo. A moment or two after they had begun lavishing attention on their monarch, Kilan arrived with the tray of breakfast, which the three devoured hungrily. Shiro then returned to his king (vowing he'd sleep for days after their little fun last night) and the remaining two braced themselves for another day of unsure negotiations. Grimmjow, walking deferentially a half-step behind Ichigo as was custom, mused to himself that the new garments suited him much better than that ridiculous shinigami uniform. Ichigo wore the skintight robes of Hollow royalty, the only loose parts being a short, removable train that reached from waist to knees and trailing sleeves. It was patterned similar to a lizard's lightning-bolt marks in Ichigo's colors of red and orange with black trim and ice-blue stitching on the collar with emerald stitching on the sleeves. Occasionally he traded the whole ensemble for a pair of hakama, but that usually only happened when he was working off his frustrations or 'playing'.
Ichigo stretched as he walked, Grimmjow supporting him when he stumbled, and thus they entered the throne room with Grimmjow's arm around Ichigo's waist and the smaller male rubbing his eye sleepily. Yawning, the king threw himself unceremoniously into his chair, Grimmjow seating himself in a comfortably cross-legged position at his feet. Raking his hand through his hair, the orange-head sighed and then turned his gaze on the soul reapers assembled at the table. "Alright, first order of business is…terms of truce, right?" The resulting six-hour discussion (more of an argument between Ichigo and Yamamoto with others tossing in the occasional comment as they watched the epic war of words) and finally settled with agreement that Ichigo let all hollows in the human word without his orders fall under the jurisdiction of the Shinigami and Shinigami that found their way into Hueco Mundo be examined and/or interrogated by Ichigo before being thrown to the Menos. Further negotiation gave the members of Ichigo's court access to Soul Society and safe passage in Hueco Mundo for seated officers and up (though Mayuri and most of his division were strictly forbidden from coming within two thousand kilometers of Hueco Mundo if he wasn't fighting for his life) and jurisdiction to punish intruders for both sides. Further, each agreed to station a liaison officer, an ambassador of sorts, within the other's command center. Ichigo's chosen ambassador was a nameless lower-ranked Arrancar who was weak and thus not a particular threat to the shinigami and since Soul Society was a bit short-staffed at the moment theirs would be chosen later; at present, the negotiating group would serve as temporary ambassadors until the official one could be chosen. Land rights, visiting rights, border establishing and restrictions would be negotiated at a later date, anytime between the next day to two months later.
The moment Yamamoto's screen blinked out, it seemed that the most inquisitive of the group could no longer hold her tongue. Yoruichi inquired slyly, "So Ichigo, started building your Harem already, eh?"
Ichigo froze up for a moment, confusion clear across his features before he cleared his throat and squeaked, "A Harem? I need a Harem?"
Where he sat on the floor, Grimmjow hunched in on himself and cursed silently. Fuck. Forgot to tell him about that. Shit. Hell. Motherfucker. How the fuck did they find out? "Yes, yer Majesty, ya do. Minimum of three, plus yer Consort."
If possible, Yoruichi looked even more delighted at the fact that Ichigo hadn't known about this. "So then Grimmjow-kun is just your sex slave for fun? Wonderful! I'm glad you found someone you could connect with so well."
Where he sat on his throne, Ichigo choked and blushed cherry red. "What? No, God no, he's not my sex slave! I don't own any sex slaves! Holy Hell Lords, how do you come up with this shit?" As he continued his red-faced rant in this denying vein, Grimmjow couldn't help the vision that danced before his mental eye.
Ichigo sat on his throne, regal as he so rarely was, truly a King luxuriating in magnificence and opulence. Grimmjow, wearing his customary loincloth and gold chain, with a soft black leather collar on his neck, to which was affixed a golden ring with a thick gold chain attached. The other end had been hung on a hook on the side of the throne, where many other hooks, all empty, awaited affixation of other chains. They were the place the Harem would be tethered, there for their Master, King, and Owner to admire and enjoy…for now, Grimmjow was the only one allowed his Majesty's favors. His eyes were drawn from the hooks back to his Master when the chain on his collar gave a light tug. "Come here," Ichigo commanded softly, his eyes shining darkly. Grimmjow knew that shine was one of lust and eagerly obeyed—posturing and resistance would get him nothing but frustration here. If he wanted satisfaction, submission was the key, submission and obedience. His King did not like to be denied, particularly not from his only slave.
Kneeling at his feet, he braced his hands on the chair arms to look up at the smaller male. "Is there something you wish of me, my King?"
Ichigo ran his fingers through Grimmjow's hair, sensual and attractive all at once. "I am restless. I want to be pleased."
The panther bit his lip, shivering under the warm touch. "Would it please you if I touched you?"
The King smiled.
"Yes."
Grimmjow swallowed. "Would it please you if I kissed you?"
"Of course."
Just one more…"Would it please you to hear a language of passion while I pleasure you?"
"It would please me greatly. I confess to great fondness for your native tongue."
Obediently, Grimmjow let the familiar flowing syllables of French come from his mouth, so different from the short, sharp syllables of Japanese. "You are beautiful tonight as always, Master. You radiate desire." The King shivered. Grimmjow used his hands to part his King's knees, sliding his body between them. He was inching himself closer a little at a time—his mate always appreciated anticipatory build up.
"You are so tense, my Lord. Perhaps I should relax you." He put his hands on the heavy muscles of Ichigo's thighs, savoring how they jolted under his touch as he made several long strokes from mid-thigh to knee, rubbing. When his 'massage' failed to do anything other than tense the other further (which he knew very well would happen, because the long strokes of his hands on Ichigo's legs reminded him of long strokes from Grimmjow's hands in other places, he pretended to be disappointed. "This is not pleasing you. Should I touch elsewhere?"
Ichigo's voice was slightly strangled, but other than a slight tightness around his eyes his face was carefully neutral. "What you are doing is perfectly pleasant. For now, you may do as you wish."
Grimmjow grinned—when he was allowed to do what he wanted, he had a tendency to go straight for the prize. This would have to be an exercise in self-control. "You are tense all over," he murmured softly, letting his fingers lightly touch his King's abdomen, thighs, calves, arms, and collarbone, "from here to here to here to here to here your muscles clench and jump. Heat, maybe, will help."
Again, Ichigo shivered. Though the King understood only smatterings of French, just hearing it got him 'hot and bothered', he'd once told him(and ever after Grimmjow used that to thoroughly prod and excite his King when the younger man tried to ignore him). Latching his mouth onto Ichigo's neck, he left his mark on each area, light teeth imprints and large love bites he knew the monarch would wear proudly on the morn. When he finished this task, tongue dipping into the sweet little bellybutton he so enjoyed teasing, he licked a path up to the orange-head's ear and lightly teased the lobe with his sharp teeth, thoroughly appreciating the body he was given leave to play with as no other was and catching the low gasp of breath his monarch gave.
"I want to suck you," Grimmjow growled, "take you in my mouth until you forget your own name, make you come so hard and so much I'll taste you for a week. I want to see the face you make when you're delirious with pleasure, again and again and again. I want to manipulate your entire body with a flick of my tongue, hear the sweet cries and uncontrollable growls and snarls you make when I dare to tease the head of your cock with the back of my tongue and drag the flat edge of my teeth from base to tip on your prick. Maybe if you pull my hair hard, I'll get mean enough to release your dick entirely and duck underneath to fondle your balls, play with them like ripe apricots between teeth and tongue until you shake with need and beg me to finish the job. Then, if you've made me feel sadistic, perhaps I'll bend you around, force your ankles up by your head so I can access your ass, tease you more and fuck you with my fingers and tongue until you come just from that. Do you think you'd like that, my King?"
Ichigo finally gave in and moaned. "Y-yes, Grimmjow, I would l-like that." This concession being his only aim, Grimmjow immediately got to work, stripping off the King's waist sash and loose hakama, his eyes watching as he unveiled his magnificent prize, which was—
"Oi, Grimmjow! Tell these twisted wretches that I will never, ever in my life, own sex slaves!"
Grimmjow, still being a bit dazed from the vision (and it had just gotten to the good part, dammit), answered honestly and with his thoughts entirely uncensored. "You won't? Why in the living hell not? It would be paradise!" When Ichigo facepalmed as a result, Grimmjow realized what he'd said and blushed as red as Ichigo had earlier, mentally thankful he'd shut his mouth before he completed that last thought—that it would be paradise for the sex slaves.
Ichigo corrected him, "A Harem I can tolerate, because I won't have anyone in it that doesn't want to be. But sex slaves have no choice at all and I'll not be doing that to anyone."
Grimmjow tilted his head. "Even if they're so alluring you want to jump them in the halls every time you see them, whether in public or in private?"
The younger man pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, not even if I want to jump them every time I see them, in private or public. If I found someone that alluring, they'd be invited into the Harem in a heartbeat."
Grimmjow's brown furrowed as he frowned. "But then they could say no."
Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "That's the general idea, yes."
"But they could say no," Grimmjow stressed, as his King apparently didn't quite get it.
"Yeah," Ichigo replied, then explained (because Grimmjow was apparently being very thick today), "the whole point of it is to give them the choice."
"But if you give them the chance to say no and they do, that'll make you unhappy!" Grimmjow was almost gnashing his teeth here—for the love of God, didn't Ichigo realize? The only person among Hollows with the power to make himself happy was the King, because he could and would do whatever the fuck he wanted. You didn't, couldn't, argue with the goddamn King.
"Happiness is never guaranteed. All humans learn that. Forcing the issue also rarely makes the forcer truly happy, resulting only in a false illusion of happiness that makes the hunger for true joy all the keener." Jesus, he'd forgotten that Hollows didn't really know 'true' emotions yet and were content with the half-illusions they could get; they didn't get several human customs that were based on attaining the solidly 'real' emotions they could receive.
Grimmjow realized abruptly that the annoyance he felt was not his own. It buzzed around him, stinging his skin like a reprimanding slap, just barely felt by his heirro but enough to spark his own annoyance and make him believe the foreign emotion invading him was his own. Frightened, and not knowing where in the hell it was coming from, he fell silent, trying to figure out the source of it. It changed then, to something warm that caressed him almost like a physical touch. "What's the matter? Is there an enemy close by?"
Grimmjow's brows furrowed. "No, no…jus' thought I felt somethin'…guess it's nuthin'."
Relief, like a drizzle of honey, wreathed his body, spreading sweetness with each touch. "Oh good. I'd hate my guests to be attacked because you and I were busy arguing."
The emotion he could feel wreathing his body like mist, or a finely woven blanket—was it coming from Ichigo? It had to be. Ichigo had turned and begun playing with his friends and Grimmjow could feel the honey-sweetness lessening to a neutral warmth with the faintest scent of orange blossoms…a neutral warmth and faint scent that felt like coming home, like something that had been missing had been restored. Whatever it was, he was apparently used to it, to have such a gentle, calm feeling when it enveloped him.
Giving a yawn, Ichigo suddenly plopped down in his lap, and he reflexively wrapped his arms around the lithe monarch. "You warm," he purred, his voice insanely deep, indicating he was not in his right mind, "I sleep naow." The hint of a 'meow' on the end of his declaration informed Grimmjow that the teen's more feline nature was manifesting and he was thus requiring a midday nap. More than happy to oblige his King, he called for a blanket, wrapped them both comfortably, propped them up against the throne and settled in for a little siesta.
In one of the other wings of the palace, a gaggle of screaming, laughing, playing children were enjoying the afternoon sun. A few of the older ones, the younglings, sat cross-legged on the floor, telling the cubs, hatchlings, babes, kits, and pups about the terrible times of Aizen, gone now, and how they used to live in the desert with their mothers or fathers and how hard it was. They told these tales with all the awe-inspired hatred of those who lived through a terrible tragedy that had at last gone for good. Several guards were assigned permanently to the group of children, babysitters really, because, well, with Ichigo being the kindest King they'd ever known, the Las Noches Palace was the safest place in the Desert of Death for children. Every single one had been brought here for safety. Of course, while this was the safest place in Hueco Mundo for children, that didn't necessarily mean it was safe. The guards, while usually more of babysitters than anything, were there for good reason. A pair of blood-shot eyes, glittering with madness, watched the children from the shadows, insanity overriding the 'protect Offspring' drive with a single, dominating thought- Easy Prey.
[A/N] Now, there is an alternate version of chapter seven, about half of which I deleted to write this version- my nice, lovely reviewers can read this alternate chapter on request, and according to my Beta, EternalLove'sEclipse, the alternate chapter is most assuredly worth reading.
