Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter! Hope I'm not boring you guys with the slower pace...given how they met and all, it wouldn't be believable to have either one of them jumping into the river of love just yet, you know?

We'll get there though, I promise. ;)


Grimmjow strolled back into the bar with a smile, feeling sated and proud of himself. The kid had looked so thoroughly spent by the time he was done, bright tangerine hair askew, face flushed and glistening with sweat. Oh man, the way that tight, lithe body had moved in his lap; the sounds that had tumbled from those soft, supple lips; those half-lidded, lust-glazed eyes...It was an image Grimmjow could see over and over again and never tire of it.

He knew he was being a dick, but he couldn't help it. Something about Kurosaki Ichigo just brought out the worst in him. Maybe it was the fact that he saw it as a personal challenge to squash the stubborn fire that glowed so brightly in the kid's eyes. It stroked his ego to see someone that proud ultimately succumbing to his spell.

"Wow, that sure was a long bathroom break, boss. You had the runs or somethin'?" asked Kensei when Grimmjow arrived at their table to take up his old spot between Renji and Halibel.

Grimmjow simply shrugged. Normally he wasn't one to care about modesty, but he couldn't outright say that he'd just banged his newest employee's best friend, could he?

"Nah," he said, glancing at Abarai and wondering how the man would react if he were to find out the truth. He imagined the facial expression alone would be priceless. "Just met an old acquaintance of mine, that's all."

An acquaintance that he'd enjoyed meeting indeed.


Ichigo didn't remember driving home. Nor did he recall dragging himself to bed, even taking the time to kick off his jeans and pull on a pair of loose boxers before slipping under the covers. But his body definitely remembered the three large glasses of Coke he had the night before, because the first thing that registered in his mind when he woke up, was that he really, really, needed to pee.

Despite the temptation to bury his face into the pillow, the call of nature was too strong, and Ichigo had no choice but to dart into the adjoining bathroom, hissing and grimacing as he went. He shivered as his body gradually relaxed, and that was when he noticed that he was aching everywhere; almost like he had rolled all over a bed of pebbles.

An inspection in his full length mirror revealed tiny bruises dotting his knees, thighs, and shin, even his elbows. He groaned, finally figuring out how could've gotten them. Getting in the way of zippers, buckles, seat belts—and heck, even his car's center console—certainly had not worked out so well for him, regardless of how pleasurable it had been. But damn it had been hot at the time though; he'd never been so turned on before, being in that cramped space surrounded by Jaegerjaques' intoxicating scent, having the man's hands on him...it was overwhelming.

It was...exhilarating.

Shit. He was beginning to act like an addict, Jaegerjaques being his one and only vice. What was it about that man? What made him so special?

Ichigo grumbled to himself, muttering under his breath about "insufferable assholes" and "manipulative bastards". Why did Renji have to work for him, of all people?

After showering and throwing on fresh clothes, Ichigo padded into the living room to make brunch. A quick glance at the entryway of the apartment told him that his roommate did make it home last night after all. He wondered briefly if Renji managed to score with that green-haired bombshell, but immediately decided that he'd rather not know.

By the time the redhead emerged from his bedroom, his long hair a tousled, tangled mess and clad only in a pair of drawstring sweatpants, Ichigo had already finished making pancakes, eggs, and sausages for the two of them. Renji took a long sniff and let out an appreciative cheer.

"You're the best, Ichi," he said, ambling lazily into the kitchen and stealing a piece of sausage from one of the plates.

Ichigo rolled his eyes even though he chuckled. "Seriously though, are you allowed to eat this greasy food? Pretty sure you need to be in shape now that you have this job."

Renji made a face and let out an obnoxiously loud belch, grinning when Ichigo waved his hand in front of his face frantically. "Yeah, once I officially start next month, I have to cut out this shit," he said, eyeing his plate balefully. "They have a pretty strict regimen over there."

"Too bad," Ichigo teased, taking a bite out of his pancake. "You know I'm just going to rub it in your face, right?"

"Asshole." Renji scowled and gave Ichigo the finger before straightening up and jabbing his fork into his scrambled eggs. "So why'd you leave so early last night?"

Ichigo nearly choked on his orange juice.

"I...I was tired," he replied hastily. "It's been a long week, you know? The kids are driving me nuts, and there's so much homework to grade..."

Renji shot him a skeptical look. "How much homework could there be at an elementary school? Don't give me that bullshit, just admit that you're antisocial," the redhead said around a mouthful of sausage, peering at Ichigo with genuine concern in his voice. "You have to go out more, Ichi. Meet new people, have a little fun. At this rate, you're going to die a virgin, man."

That could not be farther from the truth, Ichigo thought wryly.

"Speaking of having fun..." Renji continued, missing the frown on his roommate's face. "I'm going to hang out with them again tonight. There are a few guys I didn't get to meet yesterday, and they're going to have a small get-together tonight. I want you to come with me."

Ichigo groaned inwardly. "No thanks, they're not really my type of crowd, Ren...you know that."

"Nuh uhh." Renji wagged his finger sternly. "You have to live a little, make some friends. I don't want to sound cocky but you and I both know that I'm your only friend." When Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, the redhead thrust a palm in his face. "I won't take no for an answer, Ichi. C'mon, you know that I'm just going to bug you until you say yes, so why not save yourself the misery, huh?"

And then he pulled out his dreaded weapon—in the form of innocent, watery puppy eyes.

Ichigo threw his hands up in the air and roared in defeat, "This is fucking unfair! You can't do this! You can't pull this shit on me every fucking time!"


Unfair or not, a few hours later, Ichigo was grudgingly climbing out of his car in front of a large, modern-looking mansion. It was easily the nicest house Ichigo had ever seen—the exterior of the building was painted white, all clean-cut angles and simple. The windows were huge glass panels tinted light blue, the lawn a luscious green and spacious. The place didn't look particularly fancy on the outside, but it was classy. The owner, whoever it was, had taste.

Still, Ichigo didn't want to be here. He didn't want to run into Jaegerjaques again, especially in front of Renji and a bunch of strangers. That man was unpredictable and dangerous, like an active volcano that could go off any minute. There was a chance he wouldn't be here though, Renji had said that not everyone could make it. Ichigo hoped that Jaegerjaques was one of them. He daren't ask, not wanting to sound like he had any special interest in Jaegerjaques.

So, here he was, standing next to Renji as the redhead pressed the doorbell. Ichigo watched his best friend bounce excitedly on the balls of his feet, a wide grin plastered on his face as they waited. Ichigo sighed and shook his head; the things he did for Renji...

Finally, after a few minutes, footsteps approached the door and it was flung open, revealing a familiar face.

"Aww if it isn't the cutie pie!" Neliel squealed, eyes lighting up at the sight of Ichigo. She threw her arms around Ichigo and squeezed, oblivious to the look of panic that flashed across his face. He squirmed, trying to avoid her ample bosoms and failing.

Next to Ichigo, Renji laughed into his fist, looking slightly hurt by the lack of attention but still amused enough to be entertained.

They were ushered in eventually, Ichigo looking pink and flustered. They were led down a hallway towards the living room, walking past an array of framed modern art. The decoration in the house was understated but looked expensive—everything from the muted blue window treatments and the soft cream carpet covering the shiny marble floor.

There were already a few people in the room when they finally arrived; some lounging on the couch, some sitting around the low coffee table playing poker. Ichigo recognized Ayasegawa, Hisagi and Kensei; all three frowning fiercely at their cards while the fourth set laid abandoned, obviously belonging to Neliel.

After saying their hellos, Neliel dragged them towards two new faces. A man with wavy, dark brown hair gave them a half-hearted wave when he was introduced. His name was Starrk, considered a veteran at the company and wildly popular with the ladies, apparently. Ichigo could see why; the man had a smoldering, very masculine air about him even though he didn't look like he cared.

A tall, rail-thin man with a white eyepatch was next, his lanky frame towering over Ichigo, his presence made even more sinister by the eerie, piano-toothed grin on his face. He was introduced as Nnoitra, known for posing in softcore porn magazines.

"Wanna shag, ginger?" was the first thing Nnoitra said to Ichigo, shamelessly checking Ichigo out with his single violet eye.

Before Ichigo could recover from his shock to retort, a soft, pompous voice admonished from somewhere behind him. "Tch, don't be such a creep, Nnoi."

Ichigo turned to see a slim, well-dressed man walking up to them, hands busy wiping down a pair of delicate silver-framed glasses. Rolling his eyes at Nnoitra, the man slid his glasses into place and reached out to shake Ichigo's hand.

"Don't mind him," the man said, tossing his shoulder-length pink hair with a disdainful huff. "I assure you, he's the only barbarian around here, so make yourself at home, please."


Grimmjow eyed the petite figure cowering in the far corner of the room, his lips curling into a sneer. Yet another one of those. Seriously, these people need to stop signing up for this shit if they can't take it. This one here looked like he was about to pass out, and Grimmjow hadn't even taken a step towards him yet.

Still, a contract is a contract, and Grimmjow had always enjoyed the thrill of the hunt anyway.

"Get up," he growled, shrugging off his leather jacket and letting it fall to the carpet.

The young man at the corner whimpered and tried to curl into himself even more, his body shaking in fear. The sight sent a tingle of excitement down Grimmjow's spine, and he felt his annoyance ebb slightly. He closed his eyes and let his primal side take over, and when he finally opened his eyes again, they were glowing, dripping with hunger.

His unfortunate partner couldn't have seen it coming even if he tried. Lavender eyes widened for a fraction before Grimmjow descended on him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and tossing him bodily onto the bed. The man cried out and tried to scramble off, his hands reaching out towards the door pleadingly. He was immediately yanked back, his short black hair clutched tight in Grimmjow's fist.

"You're going to be a good boy, Luppi...or I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for a week," Grimmjow hissed into the man's ear.

The young man's breath hitched...and then he nodded, teary-eyed and sniffling. Grimmjow grinned, his eyes darkening as he pictured himself plowing into the slender body. Oh, it was going to be good—all soft and tight and trembling around him. He soon had Luppi on all fours at the edge of the bed, the smaller man's underwear pooled around his knees. Luppi was sobbing quietly, his tiny frame shaking as Grimmjow pressed up against the back of his thighs. Grimmjow tilted his head back, eyes sliding closed once more as he took a deep breath, and then he pushed forward with a vicious snap of his hips.

Luppi's scream knifed through the room, his arms immediately buckling beneath him. Grimmjow tightened his hold on the slim waist and slammed all the way in, ignoring the choked cries and frantic attempts to shake him off. It was pointless; someone as weak and small as Luppi never stood a chance against Grimmjow, who could easily snap the younger man's arm like a twig if he wanted to.

But, as Grimmjow had expected, it didn't take long for Luppi to do a completely one-eighty; his broken sobs gradually morphing into soft, breathless moans and his body moving feverishly along with Grimmjow's, his arousal heavy and leaking between his legs. It wasn't surprising; people joined this club for a reason after all. Once the initial shock was over, the flood gates would open and all the hidden, long-suppressed desires would come pouring out. A lot of times, Grimmjow couldn't even believe that he was fucking the same person anymore.

Before he knew it, Luppi was becoming louder, his head thrown back, fingers entwined in the sheets as he ground back almost as hard as Grimmjow was handing it to him. Normally, Grimmjow would smirk smugly, his ego stroked by the power he held over the other, but today...

Today he only frowned as he listened to the whiney moans coming from Luppi. The man had begun screaming, his high-pitched wails of "Fuck me! Oh god harder, harder!" filling the room, like some cheap two-dollar whore.

It was...disgusting.

And...that did it. Grimmjow felt himself soften, and he started to feel a little sick; like "holy shit this is fucking nasty I need to get out of here" sick.

He couldn't do it. For the first time in his life, Grimmjow couldn't stay erect and he couldn't even bring himself to care. Without wasting another minute, he pulled out, shivering as he ripped off the soiled condom.

"Hey, where are you going? Come ba—"


Grimmjow had never gotten dressed so fast in his life before. He was out of the room before Luppi had even finished yelling, running towards the elevator as quickly as his legs could carry him, and he didn't stop until he was finally behind the wheel of his car, breaths coming in ragged pants. His heart pounded erratically behind his ribs, as though he'd just narrowly escaped death.

Where had that come from?

Grimmjow gripped the steering wheel, eyes wide with shock. This had never happened to him before. Having no interest in someone was one thing, feeling so utterly repulsed was a whole other experience altogether. It wasn't as if Luppi was ugly, it was just...Unable to come up with an explanation, Grimmjow's mood plunged even more. He had been looking forward to an exciting night; it had been a long time since his last session with the club, so to have it end on a note like this was disappointing, not to mention humiliating.

After staring blankly at his windshield for what seemed like hours, he grunted and finally started the car, feeling angry and confused as hell. In the short time it took for him to drive back to his house, he'd only gotten more sullen, the urge to break something growing stronger with each passing minute. His sleek automatic gate slid open at a touch of the remote, and Grimmjow pulled into his driveway and parked, then he climbed out of the car and slammed the door closed with his foot, not even caring that he might hurt his beloved BMW.

It's Luppi. There must be something wrong with that little shit.

Still scowling, Grimmjow stomped up to his front door and started fishing for his key in his back pocket. But before he could find it, peals of shrill, girly giggles reached his ears, and his eyes widened.

"Oh hell," he muttered, dreading what he was going to find inside.

Sure enough, his living room was packed. Neliel, Hisagi, Kensei, and the new red-haired kid were sprawled on the shag carpet, eyes riveted to the television watching a soccer game. He caught Nnoitra, one of his oldest friends who also happened to work for him, lounging on the couch with his endless legs stretched out in front of him. Predictably, Starrk was nodding off on the other end of the couch; and then there was his best friend, Szayel, sitting in Grimmjow's favorite armchair, looking for all the world like he owned the place.

But what really caught his attention, though, was the man sitting cross-legged at the coffee table, chin propped on top of an open palm while he drummed his fingers absently on the table top.

As his eyes wandered from the willowy torso to the careless styled orange spikes, Grimmjow grinned.

Looks like his night won't be a complete bust after all.


To be continued...