I lost count of how many times I rewrote this. (-_-)"
The next morning, Ichigo was awakened by the soft, rumbling sound of snoring by his ear. He blinked groggily, his mind telling him that something monumental had happened although he was still too sleepy to fully comprehend what it could be.
Then he tried to stretch.
All at once, he remembered everything. His skin tingled as he recalled the new sensations, the raw, intense pleasure that had sent his head spinning last night. Heat immediately bloomed across his cheeks like wild fire.
It was then he realized that he was still completely naked, and upon peeking over his shoulder, noticed that Grimmjow was equaly bare, save for the thin blanket that was tangled around his legs. The older man was sleeping on his side, his face pressed close to Ichigo's body but not quite touching. Pink, enticing lips were slightly parted as Grimmjow continued to snore, completely oblivious to his audience.
Ichigo's heartbeat began to race. The longer he stared at his...lover - god that sounded so weird yet so good at the same time - the more he yearned to touch him; to thread his fingers through those sleep-mussed baby blue locks, to caress the tanned, scar-ridden skin that did nothing to hide the firm muscles underneath. He pictured that body moving above him, Grimmjow's larger frame enveloping him as they made love...Ichigo's stomach fluttered at the memory.
And then he remembered the dream. Grimmjow had sounded anguished; devastated, even. The hoarse - though brief - cry was so heartbreaking that Ichigo wished he could fix it, but he knew it was beyond his reach. Whatever it was, it was locked inside Grimmjow's mind, inaccessible even by the man himself. Ichigo would be lying if he said he wasn't worried, though he would never admit it aloud - not to himself, not to Grimmjow, and especially not to his uncle.
Pushing aside the depressing thought, he turned back to study his sleeping companion once more. Even with his mouth open and probably drooling into the pillow, Grimmjow was a gorgeous sight; his angular features slightly softer in sleep, one hand tucked beneath his head, broad pectorals rising and falling steadily with each breath. Ichigo stared, unable to tear his eyes away, until, suddenly, he realized that the bright blue eyes were open and staring back at him with a hint of amusement.
"Morning," Grimmjow rasped, his lips curling into a lazy smirk.
Ichigo felt his blush deepen, feeling quite mortified that he had been caught red-handed acting like a creepy stalker. "Good morning," he said sheepishly.
"C'mere," Grimmjow beckoned with a crook of his finger, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his smile widened.
Ichigo complied and laid back down next to the older man, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug. His eyes slid closed as a heated pair of lips descended on his possessively. The kiss was slow, surprisingly gentle but no less passionate. Ichigo raked his fingers through Grimmjow's hair and tugged lightly to bring the man closer, their legs gradually entwining as their hands explored each other languidly.
One thing led to another, and within minutes, Ichigo was moaning and gasping in Grimmjow's arms, his body shaking as he spilled his release into Grimmjow's fist. Not two seconds later, Grimmjow followed suit, his groan muffled by Ichigo's hair.
They lazed around for a while afterwards, both too sated and comfortable to get down from the bed and start the day. But alas, Ichigo knew he didn't have the luxury of sleeping in for much longer. He would rather not have his door busted open by his uncle, who just might do that if they didn't show up for breakfast soon.
They took turns showering in the tiny adjoining bathroom, knowing all too well what a shared shower would no doubt lead to. By the time Ichigo came out from his shower, Grimmjow had already left the room.
After throwing on a pair of well-worn jeans and a thin V-neck t-shirt, Ichigo padded out of his room to join the older man. Humming happily to himself, he navigated the hallways with ease and headed for the kitchen. Just as he was about to step into the dining room, his ears picked up something that made him freeze in his tracks.
"No luck so far," Grimmjow sounded guarded, his voice a little tighter and flatter than usual.
"I hope you won't mind my prying...but perhaps it's time to try other ways to recall your past? Check out the address on your driver's license, perhaps?"
Ichigo sucked in a deep breath at his uncle's seemingly nonchalant suggestion. The hint - if you could even call it that - was so obvious that his uncle might as well take out a broomstick to sweep Grimmjow out the door.
There was a long pause before Grimmjow replied. "Maybe I should-"
Ichigo didn't think twice before bursting into the room.
"No!"
The two men whirled around; Grimmjow with his lips set in a thin, grim line while Uncle Kisuke blinked at Ichigo innocently as if he didn't just ask Grimmjow to leave.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he growled, looking pointedly at his uncle.
Uncle Kisuke spread his hands and shrugged. "I was merely throwing out some ideas," he said off-handedly.
"You just want him to leave now because you can't accept the fact that I..." Ichigo hesitated as he searched for the right word. "..that I like him," he finished.
"Well I wouldn't quite put it that way..." Uncle Kisuke muttered as he scratched the back of his head absently.
"What's that supposed to mean then!" Ichigo ground out furiously, his temper flaring at his uncle's blatant display of indifference. The man was clearly being passive aggressive, playing the stupid, manipulative mind games that he was notorious for. Ichigo absolutely hated it when his uncle did that. It just made him angrier, even more so now with Grimmjow involved.
"It was just a suggestion-"
"Suggestion my ass!"
"Ichigo, stop."
Grimmjow didn't raise his voice, but Ichigo fell silent anyway. He glared at Grimmjow, brows twitching from his effort to swallow his words, but the heat in his chest faltered when he looked into the man's eyes. The sharp, ice-blue gaze held a glint of determination that Ichigo didn't like at all.
Sure enough, Grimmjow's next words only confirmed his suspicion.
"I'll leave."
There was a long stretch of silence as those words seemed to hang in the air. He stared at Grimmjow, not bothering to conceal the disbelief and hurt that he was feeling. Next to him, Uncle Kisuke regarded Grimmjow calmly, completely unsurprised, as if he already knew that Grimmjow would do this. Finally, as those words sank in, Ichigo knew what he wanted to do.
"Take me with you," he said.
Grimmjow's jaw muscles flexed. Ichigo knew that Grimmjow wouldn't agree, he could see the "no" etched clearly on the man's features. Still, it stung when the man uttered the words. "You know I can't do that."
"I don't see why not," Ichigo shot back immediately. He hated to sound like a petulant child, but he wasn't going to just let his uncle ruin everything.
Grimmjow let out a sigh and looked pleadingly at Ichigo. "Come on, you're not being rational here."
"He's right," Uncle Kisuke chimed in. "This is personal, Ichigo. He needs to do this by himself." The man turned to Grimmjow and raised his eyebrows. "Don't you?"
Ichigo sucked in a deep breath and kept his eyes trained intently on his lover's face. Grimmjow looked stricken, his lips curled and brows pinched like he had just swallowed a piece of lime. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Ichigo's heart immediately sank.
"Yes, I do," came the strained reply.
Never had Ichigo felt so betrayed. His cheeks turned from flushed to ice cold to flushed again as his stomach churned in a swirl of emotions before settling on one: white hot fury. Grimmjow's face fell.
"Ichigo, let me explain-" he began, stepping forward, arm reaching towards Ichigo as though to grab his arm.
Ichigo refused to give Grimmjow the chance to even touch him. Somewhere deep, deep down inside, he knew that he was being irrational, that he was being impulsive and hot-headed, but Grimmjow's answer truly felt like a slap in the face. If he were a lesser character, tears would have fallen, but he wasn't; so he shoved the hand away with a scowl, putting so much force into it that Grimmjow stumbled backwards and crashed into the kitchen counter.
Ichigo felt a fleeting stab of guilt in his chest when he heard the pained grunt, but he forced himself to look dead ahead, back straight and head held high, as he left the dining room. Inside, he hated himself a little more with each step; for acting as if he was throwing a tantrum, like a clingy chick; for feeling so helpless.
But most of all, for being so utterly useless.
The cheap rubber flip-flops squeaked as Grimmjow stepped into the rain. It had been raining for hours; big, fat droplets that battered the walls and glass windows along with strong, howling winds.
He hadn't seen Ichigo since the rain started. At first, he had assumed that the kid had simply gone back into his bedroom to sulk, but when lunch time passed and Ichigo still didn't shown up, he had risked a peek, only to find that the room was empty. Nobody else had seen the boy, and now, as the sky began to darken and rain clouds continued to loom ominously above, Grimmjow finally decided that it was time to search for him.
He hoped that Ichigo had calmed down by now. He wished the boy would understand how difficult it had been for him to decide on leaving, or had at least had the patience to stay and listen to his explanation. If he was given the choice, of course he wanted to stay. Urahara had extended his hospitality as a favor, and clearly he had outstayed the welcome. Whether it was simply because Urahara still didn't trust him, or because Urahara knew he was sleeping with his nephew, he didn't know and didn't care. It didn't matter. The fact is that he wasn't going to just stand there and watch a family being ripped apart because of him. If that meant he had to stop seeing Ichigo for a while, so be it.
He swiped his rain-soaked bangs out of his eyes and scanned the surroundings. The ground was muddy and covered in puddles, giving no clue to Ichigo's whereabouts. Grimmjow heaved a sigh and started his search. He began by checking the adjoining gas station - a tiny thing that only had two working pumps. There was nothing there. No teenage boys huddling behind it, no foot prints, no drag marks, no sign of Ichigo at all.
Wiping the water out of his eyes, Grimmjow continued; walking slowly around the shop, poking at the messy piles of junk stacked against to the walls to see if Ichigo was hiding among them. The garage was empty as well, save for the battered pick-up truck and some tools.
Then, finally, when he reached the backyard, he found Ichigo. The normally spiky, vibrant head of orange hair was matted to the boy's scalp, the wet strands a darker hue, almost a shade of copper, as Ichigo sat curled in a ball in front of the wooden shed. The kid had his knees drawn up against his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them, his head buried between his folder arms. He was soaked to the skin, his t-shirt almost transparent as it stuck to his body. Stuffing his hands into his pants pockets, Grimmjow approached the boy carefully.
Ichigo showed no signs of knowing that he was there, but as soon as Grimmjow came to a stop in front of him, the boy lifted his head and glared at him.
"Hey," Grimmjow said quietly. Pulling up his jeans by the waistband, he settled down into a crouch next to Ichigo. He was certain that the boy was going to ignore him, but to his surprise, Ichigo replied with a soft "hey" of his own. The amber gaze that met him held no heat, and he felt a painful tug in his chest when he noted the dullness in the normally bright eyes.
"I'll come back for you," he said. "When everything is straightened out, I'll be back. Just give me some time."
Ichigo's eyes widened slightly before they fell once more. "Will you?" he asked in a tired voice. "What if...what if you find out that you have a family out there? Would you still come back?" He paused to wipe his face with the front of his t-shirt, which did nothing but smear more water onto his face. After a few tries, he finally gave up and let out a dry chuckle. "I sound selfish, don't I?"
"No," Grimmjow replied. He unfolded his legs and sat down, stretching them in front of him and leaning his head back against the wall of the shed. "That's a legitimate concern," he conceded. It was a question he had asked himself before, but had always pushed it back into the back of his mind simply because he didn't have an answer. But now he knew. "I promise I'll come back for you, as soon as I can."
Ichigo sighed. "I don't know if I'll still be here when you come back," he muttered.
Grimmjow felt another pull in his chest as he inwardly acknowledged the possibility. "We'll figure something out when we get there," was all he could say.
Ichigo didn't reply, but after a while he nodded. Grimmjow slipped his arm around the slim, angular shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss onto the boy's hair. He felt Ichigo shiver in his arms.
"Come on, we should head in before you catch a cold," he murmured.
Over dinner, Grimmjow announced that he was leaving in two days. Juushirou looked surprised while Tessai simply nodded without a word. Ichigo tightened his grip on his fork and lost his appetite completely.
"I wish you luck," Uncle Kisuke said solemnly.
Ichigo suddenly felt nauseous, but he resisted the urge to bolt from the dining table. He had already run away once that day, and he was determined not to do it again. He listened to Grimmjow thanking everyone, but he couldn't get himself to smile back when Grimmjow sent him one.
How could he? He had gone from feeling at the top of the world in the morning to...this. He was already doing all he could to keep a straight face as it was, anything more was simply impossible. He caught Juushirou looking at him in concern, but he couldn't bring himself to care, so he simply sat there like a wooden figure, forcing his face to remain neutral and expressionless.
As soon as the dishes were cleared away, Ichigo went back to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed for a while, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten. Two days. Only two more days, then Grimmjow would be gone. Who knew how long it would be before they could meet again? His father had already threatened to personally drag him back home, so he'd be leaving this place soon, too. Would Grimmjow really search for him then?
If only he had acted earlier. If he had summoned his courage and confessed earlier, they would've had more time together. Now, they barely had a week. Was that enough for Grimmjow to come back to?
He was immersed so deeply in his own thoughts that he didn't realize he wasn't alone until a pair of arms snaked around his waist from behind. The mattress dipped as Grimmjow shifted his weight to settle behind him and pull him up against his chest. Letting out a long sigh, Ichigo let his head fall back against the older man's shoulder.
They remained silent the entire time, even when they stripped the clothes off each other and sank into the bed. Not a single word was exchanged as Grimmjow left a trail of hot, wet kisses from Ichigo's earlobe down to his hip bones, around his inner thighs and up the column of his rigid length. The only sounds were soft, muffled moans as they mapped out every inch on the other's body. For once, Ichigo didn't feel shy at all. Time was limited, he didn't want to waste even one precious second by being hesitant. He let his fingers and tongue roam greedily, touching and committing every plane, every curve, and every dip on Grimmjow's body into his memory.
When Grimmjow pressed into him, Ichigo hooked his legs around the man's hips tightly, not willing to let go even when Grimmjow retreated briefly to surge forward again. He didn't want this moment to ever end, but he couldn't stop it; couldn't stop the pleasure from building and building and building until it overflowed out of him, ripping a sob from him as his vision went white for a split second. He clung desperately to Grimmjow, moaning and trembling until he felt a burst of wet heat flood his insides. And even then, he didn't want to let go.
Moonlight streamed in between the blinds to cast a veil of pale, almost silver light on Ichigo's features, accentuating the tiny hint of a smile on the boy's lips. Grimmjow studied his sleeping lover quietly, resisting the urge to rake his fingers through the soft orange locks.
He was exhausted, but sleep was eluding him. The house was eerily silent except for the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock next to the bed. Without even realizing it, he began to sync his breaths with the sound; breathe in, wait for two ticks, breathe out, then repeat.
He lost track of time for a while - it could've been hours, could've been minutes - before he was suddenly aware of another sound that was disrupting his rhythm: raspy, labored breathing that didn't belong to him.
"Ichigo?" he whispered hesitantly, slowly propping himself up onto his elbow.
The boy was lying on his side facing away from him, body curled under the blanket. Frowning slightly, Grimmjow leaned closer to peek at Ichigo's face. The soft moonlight revealed flushed, sweaty cheeks that were framed by stringy, damp hair.
"Ichigo?" Grimmjow called again, a little louder this time, and shook Ichigo by the shoulder. The boy's body swayed, but showed no signs of waking up.
Beginning to feel alarmed, Grimmjow sat up and rolled Ichigo onto his back. Ichigo murmured something unintelligible, brows furrowed, before his head fell limply to the side.
To be continued...