Author's Note:
For some reason, this chapter was really hard to write, so I'd love some feedback on how it turned out. Thank you for your patience with the slow updates!
As always, major thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: The Crimson Guy, thekurosakiconundrum, SammaFennec, mythweaver 101, scarletsaber, kimikozumi, SoulMore, and Doubleblade Miriko, you are all awesome!
As a note, this chapter is mainly GrimmIchi fluff, with mentions of sexual content. None of it is too explicit, but please be aware of your own comfort levels and boundaries. I won't be offended if you decide to skip this chapter, and you won't miss any major plot developments.
Chapter 10: Patience is a Virtue
You know, King, you really should take him up on his offer. I bet he'd take really, really good care of you…
For the thousandth time, shut the hell up! Ichigo buried his face in his hands and groaned. His hollow had not been silent for more than ten minutes in the four hours since his fight with Grimmjow, and it was driving him insane. The creature had a surprisingly vivid imagination, but he really didn't need those particular visuals – especially not when his traitorous brain kept supplying such images without any prompting.
It didn't help that the feline espada in question was currently lounging on Ichigo's bed – again – wearing nothing but a loose pair of hakama. He'd resumed his gigai, but the artificial body did nothing to conceal the predatory gleam in his eyes or the satisfied smirk he wore every time Ichigo's gaze hastily skated away from him. He didn't say anything, though; his expression said it all.
You know you want to, Ichigo's hollow whispered in his head. Come on, think about it… The picture that followed was thoroughly filthy.
Heat flooded Ichigo's cheeks. That's… oh, fucking hell, just shut up! He might be ready to admit to a certain level of physical attraction towards the espada, but acting on it was a whole separate matter.
Unfortunately, he'd made the mistake of admitting as much to his hollow, in an ill-thought-out attempt to silence it, and it had gleefully seized on his error. Four hours of taunts and lewd images later, he was ready to scream, but he didn't want to give his hollow the pleasure of knowing it had unsettled him that badly. It already had an uncanny knack for getting under his skin; it didn't need more ammunition.
Especially not ammunition that made his pants feel too tight.
Ichigo glanced over at Grimmjow once again, then quickly averted his eyes as the espada looked up from the swimsuit catalog he was leafing through. Grimmjow snickered. "Something on your mind, Ichi-chan?" he teased.
"Don't call me that," Ichigo shot back.
Grimmjow ran his hand through his hair. "And why not, Ichi-chan?" he drawled, heavy emphasis on the last word.
"Because I think you like your tongue right where it is right now," Ichigo retorted. Then, in a burst of inspiration, he added, "Grimm-kitty."
Grimmjow brushed off the threat, but his eyes narrowed at the pet name. "Kurosaki…" he warned.
Ichigo lifted an eyebrow. "What, don't like your nickname?" he asked innocently.
For a moment, he thought the espada was about to explode, but then Grimmjow huffed a laugh. "Touché." He propped himself up onto an elbow and let a smirk spread across his face. "I'd like to see you carry out that threat, though."
Ichigo rolled his eyes and flipped to a new chapter in his textbook. "You can't be that bored already; we've only been sitting here for a few hours." Besides, I don't have time for yet another sparring match, even if it would be a good way to break up the tedium of studying. School came first.
A low laugh rumbled from Grimmjow's throat. "Bored?" He tipped his head to one side. "You could call it that." He snorted. "I'm sure you're bored with studying by now, too." Ichigo glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, as Grimmjow continued, "You know, I could come up with some very fun ways to eliminate that boredom for both of us…"
Ichigo wasn't about to fall into Grimmjow's trap this time. "I'm sure you could," he remarked, turning back to his desk as though he didn't have a care in the world. His nerves thrummed with awareness of the powerful arrancar behind him, but he refused to show it.
Undeterred, Grimmjow slid off the bed and glided over to Ichigo's chair. "So, is that a yes?" he breathed next to Ichigo's ear.
Ichigo flinched away as heat cascaded through his cheeks. It unnerved him to have Grimmjow so close to his back, but he didn't feel threatened. More like turned on and confused beyond belief. His hindbrain – joined by his hollow – was lobbying for him to accept the espada's offer; his rational side strongly disagreed. Unfortunately, the former was slowly gaining ground as Grimmjow ran his nails over Ichigo's shoulders, sending delicious shivers down his spine. The caress had just a hint of claws in it, a pointed reminder that the feline espada was far from tame.
One of Grimmjow's hands slipped lower, tracing teasing patterns over Ichigo's collarbone, and a little whimper escaped the substitute shinigami's clenched teeth. Grimmjow chuckled. "You like that, don't you." It wasn't a question.
More color tinted Ichigo's cheeks as Grimmjow dug his thumbs into the tense muscles at the back of the teen's neck. The sensation of strong fingers kneading at taut muscles verged on painful, but Ichigo didn't mind the ache. The edge of pain made it feel more real, in a way; it reassured him that this wasn't a dream.
Then the giggles of his sisters drifted through his door and shame burned through him. What was he thinking? Despite his current behavior, Grimmjow was an espada, a sworn enemy of the shinigami. A sworn enemy of Ichigo himself! He wasn't like Nel, who refused to embrace the feral side of her hollow nature – no, he positively reveled in it. It was easy to be friends with Nel, but friendship with Grimmjow would be a whole other story. Would it even be possible?
Ichigo wanted to think that the answer was yes, but he had no real evidence one way or another.
King, you're being an idiot, his hollow snapped. You've got plenty of evidence if you just open your damn eyes! Stop being such a pussy already.
Ichigo rolled his eyes. Fine, he's been on his best behavior for the past few days. They haven't exactly been normal days, though. What'll happen when he gets his zanpakuto back? The jagged shard of metal protruding from Pantera's hilt was already looking longer and sharper; another day would see it fully recovered. What if he decides to resume our fight once he's back at full strength? Ichigo wasn't worried for himself – he could handle anything the former espada threw at him. But his sisters were distressingly vulnerable, and now Grimmjow knew who they were. He could easily take his anger out on them if he were so inclined.
His hollow sneered at him. What happened to the fearless king I once served, huh? Maybe I should take this body back, see how Grimmjow likes it then. I bet he'd be thrilled. The creature licked its lips. I bet we'd have a lot of fun together… Would you like that, King? It rose up in Ichigo's mind, exerting its strength as it pressed against his mental boundaries.
Ichigo shoved it back down. We both know that's never gonna happen, so shut up and leave me alone.
I'll shut up if you man up, the hollow suggested snidely.
Ichigo groaned. Would he ever be able to find a way to get some peace within his own head? He would be able to figure all of this out if he could just think clearly for a few minutes.
Grimmjow's hands, however, were making it very hard to think at all. Ichigo hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders and neck; the release of harp-string-tight muscles felt incredible. He wouldn't have expected an arrancar to be skilled at massage, but it seemed like Grimmjow was an expert.
Ichigo hissed as a particularly fierce knot loosened. "Where'd you learn to do this?"
Grimmjow's hands stilled for a moment. "My mate taught me." He sighed. "She always said that I liked it so much, I should learn to do it myself."
Ichigo blinked. "You… have a mate?"
"Had," Grimmjow corrected. There was a wealth of sorrow in his tone. "She died decades ago."
"Oh." Ichigo twisted his head around. "I'm sorry." It felt so small and meaningless, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Grimmjow's hand dropped to his hip, fingers searching for a nonexistent hilt. "It was a long time ago." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile and his other hand tightened on Ichigo's shoulder. "But I'm stronger now, and that won't ever happen again." A low growl built in his throat before he shook his head and loosened his grip. "However, that's in the past now, and there are far more enjoyable things to think about right now." He practically purred the last words as he resumed rubbing Ichigo's shoulders, hands drifting upwards every once in a while to pet the teen's hair.
Ichigo exhaled tiredly and leaned into the caresses, unwilling to press Grimmjow further on a subject he obviously wanted to avoid. It couldn't hurt to enjoy a simple massage, could it? There was nothing sexual about it; it was simply a kind gesture. It didn't have to mean anything.
He snorted silently. Even in his own head that reasoning sounded weak. There was no denying that Grimmjow's interest in him was more than friendly – the espada had made that abundantly clear. Nor could he pretend that he didn't reciprocate that attraction, at least on a physical level. His skin hummed where Grimmjow touched it, sending sparks straight to his groin, and his breath hitched every time Grimmjow stroked his hair. His body, at least, was perfectly prepared to follow where the espada led.
Would that really be so terrible? For once his hollow sounded genuinely curious.
Ichigo shrugged, earning himself a muttered "Relax" from Grimmjow. Maybe, maybe not. The problem is, I just don't know.
Since when has that ever stopped you? You dove into the soul society without a clue what you'd be facing, then did it again when you went to Hueco Mundo. Your entire damn existence as a shinigami has been full of foolhardy risks with unknown consequences! Stop being such a whiny bitch and admit the real reason you're so afraid.
Ichigo gritted his teeth, stung by the scorn in his hollow's voice. I'm not afraid!
Yeah? Prove it.
"You know, this would go a lot better if you'd relax and stop fighting me," Grimmjow remarked conversationally. "Or do I need to give you something more to pay attention to?" His lips ghosted over Ichigo's ear and the substitute shinigami shivered. Grimmjow chuckled, then delicately nipped the side of Ichigo's neck.
Ichigo's whole body stiffened. That was… fuck. Turn-on was putting it mildly. He breathed a curse, shifting awkwardly in his chair, and Grimmjow laughed.
Then he bit down again and all rational thought fled Ichigo's brain.
The second bite was significantly harder than the first. Grimmjow's canines, sharp even in his gigai form, clamped down over Ichigo's jugular with enough pressure to almost break the skin, while his hands snaked around Ichigo's chest and held the teen in place. Ichigo arched into them, panting, as Grimmjow lapped at his throat.
A breathless whine slipped involuntarily from his lips as Grimmjow finally released him. "Damn you taste good," the espada murmured, voice rough and lower than usual. Ichigo shivered as the rich velvet sound died away, tilting his head to one side in silent invitation for Grimmjow to continue.
A hint of amusement flavored the espada's reiatsu as he dragged a fingernail down Ichigo's exposed neck. "Having fun?" Ichigo nodded jerkily and Grimmjow purred. "Good, because I certainly am." He nipped Ichigo's neck again, then pulled away as Ichigo gasped. A series of feather-light butterfly kisses followed, until Ichigo was squirming. Grimmjow smiled. "Now, what do you want me to do to you, hmm?"
"Um… ah…" Ichigo managed. His brain felt like he'd been struck by Arietta's lightning; he couldn't string two coherent words together. It was scant consolation that, judging by his reiatsu, Grimmjow seemed just as affected.
Grimmjow tangled his fingers in Ichigo's hair and tugged his head back. "I didn't quite get that," he teased, nuzzling the hollow of Ichigo's neck. "Want to try again?"
"Um…" It was hopeless. Between the lips at his throat and the hand in his hair, Ichigo's thoughts were scattered to the wind. His half-formed daydreams were nothing compared to the reality of the sensations coursing through him.
Grimmjow sighed and shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's not good enough, I'm afraid." His hand tightened in Ichigo's hair, drawing another gasp from the substitute shinigami. "You get one more try…"
Ichigo swallowed hard at the promise embedded in the silky threat. He'd never imagined that a few kisses could leave him so flustered and turned on, but Grimmjow had a way of thoroughly upending his expectations. To be honest, I never really imagined any of this…
Stop overthinking it and give him an answer, his hollow sneered. I've got a few suggestions if you can't come up with one on your own…
It offered one and Ichigo flushed. There's no way I'm telling Grimmjow that!
Your loss. The hollow shrugged. But you'd better come up with something quick… looks like he's getting impatient.
Ichigo pulled his attention out of his inner world to find Grimmjow eying him like a choice cut of steak. The frank admiration and lust in those cerulean eyes made Ichigo's skin burn; his cheeks felt like they were on fire.
Grimmjow leaned closer. "Well? I'm waiting…" He tugged Ichigo's hair for emphasis, then dragged his nails down the teen's chest.
"Ah…" Ichigo remained totally tongue-tied. He licked his lips and shrugged, unable to vocalize any of the ideas flowing through his head.
Grimmjow released him and took a step backwards, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, then, Kurosaki, I guess it's bedtime."
Ichigo spun in his chair, glaring hotly at the espada. He couldn't decide whether he was embarrassed, angry, or hurt, so he went with livid. "What the hell are you playing?" Had this all been a game to him? Was he just trying to elicit a reaction?
Humiliation and fury surged through his veins, only to be quelled by Grimmjow's next words. "Don't get me wrong, kid, I'd love to screw your brains out. But…" He shrugged, eyes glowing with a mixture of lust and playfulness. "I told you you'd beg, didn't I?" Ichigo flushed as the espada ran a finger down his cheek, then leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Besides, if you can't say what you want, maybe you're not quite ready yet." He backed away again and gave Ichigo a two-fingered salute. "Goodnight, Kurosaki." As he slid the closet door closed, he added, "Sweet dreams."
"We could take him now." Arietta fluttered her wings as she hovered over the Kurosaki house, glaring hotly at the nondescript roof. A scrap of ribbon wrapped around her white-knuckled fist. "There's nothing stopping us." Her reiatsu boiled with sullen crimson anger, which spiked every time she glanced at the ribbon.
Kinderras let his fangs fall from the roof of his mouth as he hissed at her. "You fool! Don't you feel the power below you? The damn shinigami isn't the only one near him; there are others who are equally strong. Do you really want to mess with them?" His tail shifted restlessly underneath him as he stared down at the darkened household. "We wait." There was no possibility of compromise in his tone.
Arietta sneered at the serpentine arrancar. "You're a fool if you think they scare me. A few drops of my poisons and they'd never wake up again." Her hand clenched tighter around the fraying ribbon. "I'm done with this skulking and hiding."
Marrok swung his head from side to side, sniffing the air. "There are too many mortals in that house," he declared, spreading his hands. "We'll get our chance soon enough, and we won't need to cause any unnecessary deaths."
Arietta spat. "Why the hell would you care if we kill a few stray mortals?"
"They are innocent children, and there is no reason to kill them. Furthermore, their deaths would bring the entire shinigami force down upon us, whereas taking Grimmjow alone will lead to no retaliation whatsoever. It is far more prudent to have patience." Marrok sighed heavily. "Though I know that is hardly your strong suite." Arietta huffed.
Kinderras snickered. "Well put. Don't worry, we'll get an opening soon enough." Malicious glee danced through his reiatsu. "He'll never know what hit him."
Arietta folded her arms and bared her sharklike teeth in a grimace, glaring down at the house. "Fine. But it'd better be soon."
It had taken all of Grimmjow's self-control to pull away when Ichigo couldn't answer his question, but he knew it'd be worth it in the end. He wanted the teen to have no regrets about his decision; it made everything so much more fun. If that meant waiting a bit, then so be it.
Grimmjow leaned back against his pillow and smirked. Besides, I doubt it'll take that long. Ichigo had been on the verge of caving; only embarrassment had stopped him, as far as Grimmjow could tell. A bit more encouragement ought to do the trick, and the espada would have no problem providing that.
He licked his lips. It'd better happen soon, though. He'd been on the verge of breaking his self-imposed rule that night, spurred on by the flashes of hollow darkness swirling through Ichigo's reiatsu as the substitute shinigami struggled to find something to say. The eerie power was both tantalizing and intriguing, carrying a feral wildness that brought Grimmjow's predator side to the fore. Even now, the urge to bite and claw and prove his dominance sang in his blood.
Ichigo would give as good as he got, too, which made the prospect even more alluring to Grimmjow. One-sided fights were no fun, but a fight with a real chance of losing? Glorious.
A low groan tumbled from Grimmjow's lips as his imagination flooded his brain with possible scenarios. Ichigo writhing underneath him, Grimmjow's hand on his throat as his teeth drew a trail of marks down the teen's chest; both of them bruised and battered and oh-so-alive. Blood staining both of their skins as the metallic taste of copper in his mouth mingled with the salt of sweat to create a heady, violent perfume… he could practically taste it already.
Grimmjow groaned again, one hand sliding into his hakama. Fuck, Kurosaki… The teen had better figure out what he wanted, and fast. Daydreams were pleasant, but they were a far cry from the real thing.
Such pleasant musings were just starting to dissolve into true sleep when a dull thud snapped Grimmjow back to alertness. He slid open the closet door to see Ichigo thrashing around, tangled in his sheets and lashing out at invisible enemies. Reiatsu surged in a maelstrom around him, laced with the intoxicating darkness of his hollow side. The spiritual pressure permeating the room tasted of fury and despair; it was enough to bring Grimmjow to his knees.
He flared his own spirit energy in response, forcing the pressure off of him as he swung his legs off of his bed. "Dammit, Kurosaki…" he muttered without heat. "Go back to sleep already."
There wasn't much chance of that, and he knew it. The substitute shinigami was clearly caught in the grips of a nasty nightmare, judging by the whispered curses that fell from his lips, and it was showing no signs of dying down. His hands twitched like he was in the middle of mortal combat, while his out-of-control reiatsu spiked at irregular intervals. Grimmjow sighed. "Fuck…"
Ichigo's foot flailed out and smashed into his desk, sending another textbook crashing to the ground. Grimmjow winced at the crack – the teen would have some gorgeous bruises in the morning. In fact, if he doesn't stop trying to hit imaginary opponents, he'll be lucky to avoid broken bones. The espada sighed again. Guess I should probably do something about that…
He hopped out of bed and strode over to Ichigo's side. "Hey, Kurosaki, wake up."
When the teen flopped onto his other side and muttered something incomprehensible, then stiffened and bared his teeth, Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Well, fine." He leaned over and grabbed Ichigo's wrists, pinning them above his head.
That turned out to be a big mistake.
Ichigo went into full attack mode, immediately lashing out at the espada attempting to subdue him. Grimmjow huffed as a foot caught him in the stomach, sending him tumbling backwards. His breath exploded from him as he collided with the floor, leaving him wheezing as the substitute shinigami – pulled by Grimmjow's grip on his wrists – landed on top of him. In ordinary circumstances, Grimmjow wouldn't have a problem with that position, but Ichigo was still fast asleep. Which severely limits the possibilities. He shifted his weight to the side and threw Ichigo off of him, then hastily grabbed him again as the teen threw a hook punch into Grimmjow's jaw.
Then the fight began in earnest.
"Damn it, Ichigo!" Grimmjow snarled when the whirling blur of fists finally stilled. One of his hands rested around Ichigo's throat, while both of the teen's hands were wrapped around his collar. "Why can't you ever stop fighting?" At least he was awake now; that was a major improvement.
"Because you woke me up, dumbass," Ichigo returned grumpily. He relaxed the white-knuckled grip he held on Grimmjow's shirt, but kept his hands in a guard position. The former espada loosened his grip marginally in response, and Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "Will you get off?"
Grimmjow leaned forward. "You sure you want me to do that?" He smirked and ran his tongue over his lips. "I know a great way to get rid of nightmares."
Ichigo felt his muscles go limp as his head flopped to the side, unable to look at Grimmjow's bright blue eyes. "I wasn't having a nightmare, alright?" he muttered. Darkness swam into his eyes briefly before he forced it away, along with the ragged spikes in his reiatsu. Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow, impressed by the control – he hadn't realized Ichigo could manipulate his spirit energy at all.
But that wasn't important at the moment. He heaved a sigh and sat up, straddling Ichigo's hips as he did his best to ignore the way the teen's body heat radiated through the fabric of his hakama. "It's not such a bad thing to get nightmares, you know," he offered. Ichigo just snorted and curled onto his side, a nonverbal accusation of 'what do you know about it?' Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "No, really. That mad scientist of yours said so."
"Hat and Clogs?" Ichigo asked, uncurling slightly.
Grimmjow nodded. "Yep. Said it was normal after being through a war. And that it helps to talk about them." He'd said a lot of other things, too, but they didn't seem as relevant right now. Grimmjow had no idea how the scientist had known about his nightmares – maybe it was just an educated guess – but his refusal to admit to their existence hadn't stopped Urahara's babble. It would have been irritating had it not seemed so useful, though Grimmjow wasn't about to admit that to the former captain.
"Sure," Ichigo drawled. "Well, I'm not about to talk, so go away."
Irritated, Grimmjow flipped Ichigo onto his back, pinning him to the rug with both hands on his shoulders. Getting into his face, he growled, "You are the most stubborn person I've ever met."
Ichigo stared up into Grimmjow's face, eyes wide with confusion and just a hint of desire. Grimmjow grinned internally at the latter and leaned a little closer, near enough to feel the substitute shinigami's breath huffing against his cheeks. It was incredibly tempting to kiss him again, but Grimmjow restrained himself – he wanted Ichigo to initiate their next encounter.
Unfortunately, Ichigo looked too flustered to do anything of the sort. He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. Finally he managed, "You're one to talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Grimmjow's grip tightened on Ichigo's shoulders, and Ichigo glared at him. "I don't think you even know the meaning of the word 'compromise,' jackass. Now let me go."
Grimmjow rolled his eyes as he complied. "Fine, be that way." He sat back on his heels and gave Ichigo a curious look, then shook his head. "If that's all, I'm going back to bed." Though he tried to pretend that that had been his goal all along, he couldn't prevent the twinge of hurt that ran through him as Ichigo looked away.
He could, however, ignore it, which was what he chose to do. It was an irrational emotion anyway; he'd clearly been spending too much time in the human world. Feeling hurt over rejection by some stupid shinigami? He had to be out of his mind.
"Wait."
Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder as Ichigo scrambled to his feet and held out a hand. "Yeah?" He cocked his head to one side, watching as the teen shuffled his feet. The awkward look of shyness on Ichigo's face was more attractive than Grimmjow wanted to admit.
Ichigo glanced at the ground, then at his desk, as though he might derive some inspiration from the untidy pile of books. Grimmjow could hear his heartbeat speed up as his gaze landed on the espada before darting away again; he suspected that the teen was blushing. Finally Ichigo mumbled, "Look… I… I mean…" He sighed and shook his head. "Oh, screw it."
Then he leaned in and kissed Grimmjow.
Grimmjow blinked in surprise as Ichigo pulled back, biting his lower lip as he stared defiantly the espada. The mixture of challenge and uncertainty made Grimmjow smirk. "So, finally made up your mind?" he purred, taking a step closer to the substitute shinigami.
Ichigo held his ground, fire sparking in his dark eyes. "You could say that, yeah." He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Is that a problem?"
Grimmjow ran his tongue over his lips and grinned. "Nope." He was tempted to ask Ichigo what had taken so long, but he suspected that'd lead to a swift punch to the gut, and he was in the mood for a different kind of contact. Not that fighting with him isn't almost as enjoyable… But it'd spoil the current mood.
The espada reached out and captured Ichigo's chin with his fingers, tipping the teen's head up. Ichigo's breath caught in his throat at the vulnerable position, and Grimmjow felt his heartbeat increase. Damn, that's hot. He wanted to sink his teeth into the exposed expanse of skin, taste the salt of Ichigo's skin as he bit down; he wanted to leave a trail of marks so the whole world would know his claim. His fingers tightened. "Fuck, Kurosaki…"
Ichigo lifted an eyebrow. "What?"
His tone, just short of mocking, snapped Grimmjow's tenuous hold on control. He lunged forward and pulled Ichigo into a harsh, open-mouthed kiss, practically snarling as their mouths collided.
The substitute soul reaper returned the kiss with equal fervor, reiatsu surging to fill the room with the heady scent of lust. Grimmjow breathed a curse into Ichigo's mouth as his own spirit energy rose to meet it. The teen tasted of salt and spices, with a hint of some indefinable flavor that was uniquely his – he was even more delicious than Grimmjow had remembered.
"Fuck…" he snarled, tearing his mouth away from Ichigo's to start a line of nips down the side of his neck. Ichigo's breath hissed out in an unsteady stream and his hands clenched around Grimmjow's shoulders as the espada bit harder, reveling in the teen's reactions. Little bit kinky, hmm, Kurosaki?
Then it was Grimmjow's turn to gasp as Ichigo raked his nails down the espada's bare back, landing on his hips and pulling him closer. "Damn, Kurosaki…" The heat of Ichigo's shirtless chest against his, combined with the fiery marks that the teen had just made, left him starving for more.
He could feel Ichigo's smile against his skin as the substitute shinigami nipped at his shoulder. "Good?"
Grimmjow arched his back as Ichigo lazily dragged his nails up the espada's spine, eliciting shockwave after shockwave. "Yeah… great," he purred, letting his hands drift down to the teen's waist. "Perfect."
It wasn't enough to quench the fire burning in his veins, though. He took one step forward, then another, forcing Ichigo to back up until he bumped into his dresser. A noise suspiciously close to a whine escaped the shinigami as their hips ground together, and only a monumental force of will kept a similar noise from leaving Grimmjow's throat. The heat and pressure felt absolutely incredible.
Things were really starting to heat up when Ichigo pulled away with a gasp. "Can we…" He flushed. "Pause for a bit?"
Grimmjow shrugged. "Sure." He backed away a pace, allowing Ichigo to straighten off of his desk. The teen didn't sound upset – to the contrary, his reiatsu boiled with lust and pleasure. But there was a tiny thread of reluctance in there that made Grimmjow wary.
Ichigo dropped onto his bed and patted the sheet next to him, inviting Grimmjow to sit. The espada gingerly accepted, perching on the edge of the bed like it might suddenly turn into lava. Ichigo fidgeted. "So, umm… why… Why'd you wake me? Why…" He made a face. "Why… all this?"
"Because you were keeping me awake, and this is fun," Grimmjow replied flippantly. Then, at the flash of hurt in Ichigo's eyes, he backpedaled. "Okay, I didn't mean that." He paused, gnawing on his lip. "Look…" How much could he say? How much was safe? It went against every instinct he had to tell an enemy of his vulnerabilities – but maybe Ichigo wasn't an enemy anymore, even though he was a shinigami. Grimmjow sighed. "I get nightmares too, alright?" he bit out, more harshly than he intended. It was one thing to fool around with a shinigami, but quite another to reveal weakness to one; long experience told him it would bring nothing but trouble. He could override those instincts, but the conflict left him on edge and snappish.
To his surprise, Ichigo's eyes softened. "Want to tell me about them?" he offered, showing no visible reaction to Grimmjow's caustic tone.
Grimmjow snorted. "Yeah, no thanks."
"Now who's stubborn?" Ichigo muttered, glancing sidelong at the espada beside him.
Grimmjow huffed in amusement and ran his fingers over Ichigo's thigh. "Stubborn? I prefer practical." His fingers danced higher, and Ichigo inhaled sharply. "After all, I can think of something far more enjoyable to be doing…"
"Yeah?" Ichigo breathed, all traces of reluctance vanishing from his spiritual pressure.
Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah." And proceeded to prove it.