Title: Better Than Nothing (3/?)
Author: Dragondream08
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Grimmjow Jeagerjacques x Ichigo Kurosaki
Fandom: Bleach
Word Count: 1,770
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
Comments: Keeping Ichigo in character is way too hard. DX The next chapter might take a little longer because my writing has been deteriorating all of a sudden. I might need a little time to gather my wits and writs.
There's an illustrated version of this fic up at my livejournal. You can find a link in my profile.
Start.
He wakes up in a soft bed. It's silent and silky, and even though his mind is trapped in the throes of a headache, he's comfortable. He can barely feel his body and his eyes are so heavy that he stays there, limp and quiet.
An hour later, his nerves start tingling and his fingers start twitching, so he sits up. After the dizziness of blood rushing through his mind tapers away, he peers at his surroundings and suddenly remembers everything. Everything everything – even things that he doesn't remember as truth but that he remembers as being. He remembers things that aren't possible – things that must simply be idiotic fantasies that his mind conjured – and some things that are possible but that didn'thappen.
What? Ichigo grits his teeth and looks around. He's in a gorgeous, white bedroom. It's got scant decorations, but the scarcity is more an asset than a drawback.
No matter how he looks at it, though, he can't shake off the feeling of wrongness that clings to the cool air and walls. They feel hollow.
Ichigo snorts and grimaces. Hollow, indeed.
And he's stuck here. Las Noches – Aizen's stronghold.
A strange, chill breeze washes over him and he thinks, Am I really stuck here? I've managed to break in – who's to say that I can't break out? Ichigo nods to himself. And then I'll break out and I'll be stuck out in Hueco Mundo – the vast desert of nothingness. How would I get out of there? Does it matter? As long as I'm out of here. As long as I can see my friends again and save everyone.
He pushes thoughts of Grimmjow away as he eyes the door; he can't allow himself to be distracted. In a flash he throws the door open and dashes out.
He only manages to get a few feet down the hallway before someone slams him against a wall.
"The fuck do you think you're doin'?"
Grimmjow, of course. Ichigo doesn't know where the arrancar came from – if he was waiting outside the door or if he just happened to be walking this way – but he thinks that it's a really crappy coincidence.
He punches the arrancar in the chest and flits away; he continues on his path with flash-feet. Even when he feels Grimmjow hurl after him, he keeps on his mad pace. He doesn't know where he's going, but then again he never does. He's long since learned that if he just keeps running, he'll eventually get where he wants to be.
He hears curses and growls at his heels, but he's just as fast as Grimmjow so they never draw any nearer. After a few minutes, the sounds do in fact seem to be growing more distant.
Muttering, "Showed you, you fuckin' bastard," Ichigo allows himself a grin of triumph. The gap between them is definitely widening.
But in the next moment something around his neck crushes into his windpipe, and he's left writhing on the ground. With desperate hands, Ichigo feels out a smooth, constricting collar, and he realizes that there's something else to it – it didn't just tighten around his neck. It also shoved deep-cutting blades into the tender flesh of his throat.
He tries to howl, but he doesn't have the breath – all that he manages is an empty choking sound. A warm liquid bubbles out of his mouth and rushes from the wounds in his neck.
Through the excruciating pain, he sees Grimmjow walk in front of him with slow and deliberate steps, an aggravated expression settled on the arrancar's face.
"You fuckin' retard," he says and grabs the collar of Ichigo's blood-soaked keikogi. "You're not goin' to fuckin' escape."
The pain suddenly stops and Ichigo's eyes roll to the back of his head he's so relieved. Bloody and brain-dead, he can't do anything as Grimmjow drags him back to the room he'd woken up in. When he's thrown onto the bed, his mind starts working again. Immediately, he turns to glare at Grimmjow, saying, "I hate you."
Grimmjow stares at him for a few moments before looking away and dropping himself onto the bed next to Ichigo. Stretching, he asks, "Do you really?" He turns to look the vizard in the eye, azure gaze serious.
Ichigo can't stand the look so he turns away, pursing his lips. He stares at the door for a few minutes, and Grimmjow notices.
"Try your little stunt again, and I'll fuckin' fuck your ass raw," Grimmjow growls, closing his eyes and looking as if he were about to drift off to sleep. He starts snoring a silent minute later; a soft, purr-like snore.
It's the only noise in the room, and minutes drip by in slow and solemn drops; it's almost as excruciating as the pain was.
Ichigo turns to Grimmjow, studying the arrancar's face intently. He can't help thinking how handsome he looks like this; muscles relaxed and smooth, and visage full of blissful sleep. The image is almost soft – if it weren't for the jawbone mask, it would be.
Hesitating, Ichigo leans over to Grimmjow's ear and whispers, "I don't hate you." Before the words manage to settle in the air, he's flashed out of the door again. He's not going to stop trying; he can't stop trying.
He gets a little further this time. The second he's through the door, he feels Grimmjow's power flare in anger, and he knows that the arrancar was never asleep in the first place. It's all just one wild chase.
What ultimately trips Ichigo up is a dead-end. It closes in on him like a great shadow, and he knows that he's doomed. A second after he's reached it, Grimmjow throws him into the wall before pinning him to the ground.
A hand grabs Ichigo's hair and pulls his head back painfully. Snarling in response, he digs his fingers into Grimmjow's sides and tries to shred as much skin as possible.
"I fuckin' warned you, didn't I?" he hears and then another hand tears through his clothes – pulls them off of his body in loud rips that echo off of the walls until he's finally lying naked under Grimmjow. There's a split-second where the cold air bears down on his skin before Grimmjow blankets Ichigo's body with his own.
One hard grind and Ichigo is moaning, tongue rolling in his mouth thickly. The sight must be too tempting for Grimmjow because he doesn't hesitate to smash his mouth to Ichigo's, his own tongue winding around the vizard's.
The kiss is deep and powerful; they push their tongues as far as they can go into each other's mouths while their teeth clack together in short shocks. Grimmjow bites down hard on Ichigo's bottom lip before moving to his neck, taking it in large mouthfuls. Soon, all of Ichigo's neck – aside from the skin protected by the collar – is covered in dark puce marks.
Dragging his teeth deep across Ichigo's clavicle, Grimmjow forces the redhead's legs wide open and kneads the skin on his inner thighs. After a few moments, he draws away to plunge two fingers into Ichigo's mouth. Ichigo stares him straight in the eye as he sucks on the appendages and Grimmjow can't tell what's going through the boy's mind. Ichigo looks like he's plotting something but Grimmjow can't figure –
He nearly chokes when Ichigo flutters his eyelashes mockingly, leaving his eyes half-lidded, and slides his tongue over the pads of Grimmjow's fingers in a languid and lewd lick. The arrancar stares wide-eyed, feeling a tight heat coil in his groin.
"Bitch," he says with a grin as he pulls his hand from the vizard's mouth. Before Ichigo can respond, there are two slick fingers pressing into him. Grimmjow isn't trying to be gentle – the saliva is just a concession he made because he loves watching Ichigo's tongue curl around things (not the least of which would be his cock) – and it shows when he shoves his fingers through Ichigo's contracting muscles in one succinct and rough lunge. He scrapes his fingernails on some of the taut, warm skin as he goes, basking in the startled shouts that fly out of Ichigo's mouth and then grinning at the moans he gets when he fingerbangs the boy.
"You fuckin' like this too much, don't you, you bitch?" Grimmjow pants, breath escaping him as he watches Ichigo push back on his fingers and jerk at his own erection.
Hissing, Ichigo says, "Fucker. Are you planning to – what was it? – 'fuck my ass raw' with your fingers?" and he palms Grimmjow's stiff cock through his white hakama. There are already stains of pre-come on the fabric.
Without waiting for Grimmjow's reply, the redhead tugs his pants down and hooks his knees over the arrancar's broad shoulders.
Grimmjow snickers in between gasps. "Fuckin' impatient little bitch," he says and then adds, "You want it – here you fuckin' go." In one swift jerk, he pushes into Ichigo, not caring how painful it must be for the boy. After all, he always makes good on his promises; he's going to do this so hard that Ichigo won't be able to walk straight for weeks.
So they fuck, and Grimmjow thrusts with as much power as he can; Ichigo feels the strokes ripple through his body like waves. It makes his hair stand on end, and he can't stop moaning – from pain or pleasure, he can't decide.
Ichigo loses track of time, clawing at Grimmjow's back and rocking his body to match the arrancar's. When orgasms finally grip their bodies, all that he can comprehend is that his hips and tailbone ache and that both of them are covered in blood – from scratches and bites and Grimmjow must have activated the collar sometime.
Before he can recover, Grimmjow grins manically and says, "Again."
And they start once more.
O0o0O0o0O
The rest of the day, Ichigo keeps trying to escape. But as the hours pass by, the importance of escaping seems to fade away until it's all about the chase. It's all about the adrenaline and the thrill and, Ichigo whispers to himself, it's about Grimmjow continuing to chase after him every time.
When they finally retire to what Ichigo finds out is Grimmjow's room (where he will apparently be staying while he plays the pretty part of a fuck-toy) the vizard collapses onto the bed, utterly exhausted. His muscles are sore and tender, and he feels it every time he moves so he stays as motionless as he can.
As sleep overcomes his mind, he hears whispers in the walls, and they sound strangely like Aizen.
End.