Grimmjow watched with anticipation as the ship finally approached land.
It had been a good voyage, as such things went. The winds had favored them and they had made excellent time. Now they were pulling up to a small, sheltered cove. It was the closest harbor to his estates and held a reasonably prosperous fishing village. They were flying his flag, a silhouette of a blue panther on a white background, so instead of fleeing or readying themselves for battle the villagers came out to greet them.
Grimmjow felt a great relief as he finally put his feet back on shore. Ships were cramped and smelly at the best of times, although the sea winds did help a bit with that. Still, it was wonderful to finally be able to walk on solid ground. The villagers were friendly too, no doubt anticipating that after such a long voyage everyone would be eager to spend a bit of cash. And with Grimmjow around, any rowdiness would be contained. These were his people, he owned all this land. It was his duty to protect them, even from his own men.
Not that it was a problem. The party that erupted was good natured and carefree. The men quickly made up for their lack of women, finding the young village lasses were quite receptive to men with gold and silver to spend. Grimmjow had a few things to do, though, and the first was collaring the village blacksmith.
"Can you get this off him? It's a damned nuisance." Grimmjow said, glancing at Shiro. The pale lad was listening intently, clearly understanding a lot of what they were saying. A week wasn't long to learn a new language but he was trying very hard. He stood still as the blacksmith examined the collar, muttering and poking at it.
"Good, stout workmanship. I think I can get it off, Milord Wizard, but it will take a while." The man warned and Grimmjow nodded. "Could we do it tomorrow, mayhap?" He asked and Grimmjow grinned. He could tell the man wanted in on the festivities.
"That's fine, we were planning to stay a while anyway." They needed to get provisions for the ships. Now that his work with them was done and the loot was divvied up, Grimmjow would be returning to his estates with his loyal armsmen. The rest of the crew were hired hands and they would go on to whatever they wanted, which would probably be a trip to the capital to spend their hard earned money. Grimmjow knew from experience that they wouldn't hang onto it for long, except maybe the captains and top officers. Common sailors didn't save for the future.
So they went to enjoy the party. Grimmjow kept Shiro close to him, not that the pale slave was showing any inclination to stray. He just didn't want anything to happen to the young man. Grimmow smiled to himself as he sat down beside the fire, taking a drink of his wine and resting a hand on Shiro's hip. The white slave leaned against him, smiling. He took a drink from his cup before regarding it with a surprised expression.
"What is?" He asked and Grimmjow glanced into his cup. There were several different drinks going around but the ruby color told him the identity of this one.
"Wine." He said and Shiro repeated the word. "You never had?" He asked and the young man shook his head.
"No, only beer." He'd learned the word for that and Grimmjow nodded. Light beer was the easiest way to ensure water safety so the priests would undoubtedly have had it. It was nearly impossible to get drunk on, though, unlike the wine. "It good." He said, taking another drink. Grimmjow chuckled softly.
"It is good." He corrected and Shiro smiled, repeating the phrase. The words were coming to him but grammar was taking longer. A villager passed them some roasted fish and Grimmjow took it with a smile, passing half of it on to Shiro. He bit in with gusto, eating with a teenage appetite.
Grimmjow spent the rest of the party drinking, chatting with the men and quietly admiring Shiro. The way the fire illuminated his pale skin, the stark contrast of the tattoos… he was striking, there was no doubt about it. He caught the pale man occasionally glancing at him and fancied he saw a similar admiration in his eyes. Of course, he knew better than to get his hopes up. He could still remember smoldering brown eyes, the warmth in his smile… but it hadn't meant anything in the end.
Flinching away from that painful thought he took a too large gulp of his wine and coughed as it went down wrong, burning like fire. Shiro made a worried sound and gripped his arm but he managed a smile, massaging his throat.
"It will pass." He assured the other man who bit his lip before nodding. His voice sounded awful even to himself and Grimmjow cleared his throat, rubbing it again before taking a much smaller sip of the wine. That helped soothe the burn and at least the pain had taken his mind away from… him. There was more laughter and passing of food. Grimmjow and Shiro both received rolls with cheese and bowls of seaweed soup. Then some music started and Grimmjow lifted his head, joining his voice in the ancient song. He had an excellent singing voice, he always had.
"Beautiful." Shiro murmured when the song was done and Grimmjow wondered where he'd picked up that word. The wonder in his voice was very flattering and he smiled, gently running a hand down the pale man's back. He wanted to kiss the lad but knew better. His people might ignore his foibles but it was still better not to be too affectionate in public. A storyteller stepped up to the fire and they both listened to the Saga of Erisdawl. He was a good storyteller and it was quite entertaining, although it was hard to say how much Shiro understood.
It was late when they went to their bed, a small cottage that someone had vacated for them. Grimmjow grinned to himself as they stepped inside. Whatever villager had given it up had likely gone to bunk with relatives, and they would be well paid for the inconvenience.
"Sex?" Shiro asked hopefully as he began taking off his clothing and Grimmjow laughed, feeling very light and happy. He was drunk and he knew it but his pale slave wasn't sober either. He usually wasn't that direct.
"Why not?" He said playfully. Tonight was for fun and he and his men would be staying at the village until the provisions arrived. There was plenty of time for play and he wanted to get it in before they began to ride. It took long practice to get used to taking it up the ass and riding afterwards. Grimmjow wasn't always the dominant in his relationships so he knew that from experience. And speaking of riding…
"I want it different tonight." Maybe it was just the alcohol talking or maybe it was the vague resemblance to… him. But Grimmjow decided he was going to get something very different from his pale slave tonight. Although he would have to take control, Shiro was too inexperienced for anything else. "Lie on your back." He said in a throaty tone and Shiro immediately obeyed, his strange eyes wide with anticipation. The bed was nice and sturdy and Grimmjow disrobed, climbing on after him. He eyed that pure white cock, already upright and saluting before going down on it, drawing a stuttering groan out of Shiro's mouth.
His objective wasn't to get the pale man off, though. He was just getting plenty of saliva on that hard length. As he did he got busy with the oil, parting his own cheeks and preparing himself. It had been a long, long time since he'd done it and it stung more than a bit. But he accepted the burn as the price of the pleasure and took his time, making sure he was stretched. He let go of Shiro's cock, letting him calm down a bit as he shoved three fingers inside himself. Grimmjow hissed a little at the feeling and grinned as Shiro made a confused sound.
"What… oh!" Shiro's eyes were wide as he watched the blue man grip his cock then lower himself, taking the pale slave inside his body. Grimmjow gasped as he was stretched in an oh, so familiar way. It had been so long since he had done this but he knew it. Yes, he most definitely did. "Grimmjow!" Shiro's voice was breathless and the wizard grinned, meeting those inverted eyes.
"Yes." He purred before beginning to move. Shiro followed his lead, shuddering a little at the ecstasy running through him. White hands gripped his hips, pulling him against the albino as he thrust up again and again. Grimmjow moaned as the white man brushed his prostate. "Fuck yes!" He deliberately adjusted his hips and the next thrust hit that sensitive button of flesh, leaving the blue man breathless. Pearly beads of precum splashed against Shiro's belly, sliding from his weeping shaft, and a white hand closed on the hard flesh. Grimmjow's breath caught in his throat as Shiro used the cum to moisten his length and began jerking him off. The feel of that hot hand on his body, along with the length tormenting him from the inside…
Grimmjow savored every moment of the intercourse, watching Shiro's eyes glaze over with pleasure as fine beads of sweat beaded on that pale skin. He ran his hands over intricate, glorious tattoos, feeling the tight muscles and the fine body that lay beneath. The soft pants, the little gasps, it was all perfect. The hot cock inside his body, the hands that were squeezing now, moving faster and faster… it all added up to bliss. Grimmjow threw his head back as it flashed over into something more and his body clamped down on Shiro, hard. The albino almost screamed as he came and Grimmjow shuddered, feeling the power of their mutual orgasm. They were both left breathless and staring at each other as the aftershocks slowly died away.
"Grimmjow." Shiro sounded blissful, utterly content. Grimmjow smiled at the tone and kissed the pale slave, slow and tender. Shiro nuzzled his cheek when they were done, his eyes drooping as the wine and the exertions caught up with him. Grimmjow chuckled warmly before pulling away, letting the albino slide out of his body.
"Sleep. I'll take care of the mess." He advised the pale man and Shiro nodded, closing his eyes. When Grimmjow came back with a rag he was fast asleep. He smiled, cleaning them both off before sliding into bed beside his pale lover. He put an arm around him and hoped he wouldn't dream of… him. Sighing to himself, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on Shiro, the warmth and scent of his new lover.
If dreams came, he didn't remember them.
Shiro looked at the castle with wide eyes.
Until now, he'd only read about castles. Now he was actually seeing one, although it wasn't a very large one. It was situated on the top of a raised hill, the area around it kept swept clean of trees and tall grasses. The walls were good and strong, promising a nasty time for anyone who dared attack. There was a call as they were spotted but he couldn't make out the words. The pennants they were flying easily marked them as friendly, though, and the gates were opening even as they rode up the hill.
Wow. Shiro decided quickly that he liked this place. It was made out of heavy grey stone and had a very solid feeling. It vaguely reminded him of his families' home, before they'd given him to the priests. He bit his lip, looking down at his horses' ears. It wasn't their fault. He could only vaguely remember them but he knew his mother had loved him, could just barely recollect her laughing at him when he did something spectacularly silly. Shiro could remember her telling him to be good when she gave him to the priests. She'd probably thought he was going to be a novice, well fed and cared for. Why would they tell her the truth when a lie was so easy?
Pushing aside the memories, Shiro climbed off his horse, wincing faintly in pain. His body ached in places he'd never known existed before. Riding a horse was a skill he was just mastering and it was uncomfortable, to say the least. A warm hand gripped his shoulder and Shiro looked over to see Grimmjow smiling at him. A groom came to take the horse but Shiro hardly noticed, blushing lightly under those warm blue eyes.
"Your new home." He said and Shiro nodded, feeling warmed by that. He was still a slave – he was wearing a slender gold chain around his neck to symbolize that – but he didn't care. He couldn't go back to his family without drawing the priests down on them, if he could even find them, which he likely couldn't. This was his home.
Grimmjow had an arm around his waist when a woman suddenly ran out of a nearby door. Shiro looked at her curiously. She had long green hair and a terrible scar, running through her hair and partly down across her forehead. Her eyes widened and he stared as her face took on a horrified cast. Grimmjow abruptly stiffened and let go of him.
The words that followed were simply too fast for him. Shiro could mostly understand as long as people took care to speak at a reasonable speed, but that was not what was happening now. And then Grimmjow was suddenly shouting. Shiro backed up, shocked by the anger and raw anguish he could hear in the man's voice as he gripped the green haired woman's shoulders and shook her. She burst into tears and tried to pull away. He let go of her and she ran, still sobbing. Shiro felt his gorge rise as he tried to make sense of the situation.
Was that his wife? Was that why she was so upset that Grimmjow had his hand on him? But Grimm hadn't so much as glanced at a woman in the time they'd been together. He seemed completely indifferent and none of the women did more than look at him, despite his good looks. Grimmjow put his hand over his face, his shoulders down and his body tight with tension. Shiro wet his lips before gently touching his shoulder.
"Grimmjow?" He said quietly and the man looked up. There was so much pain in his face. "Who…?" Shiro looked after the departed woman and Grimmjow took a deep breath, letting it out before he forced a smile on his face. Shiro honestly wished he wouldn't, it looked like the farce it was.
"My ****." Grimmjow said and Shiro hesitated. He knew the word for wife so she wasn't that, but he didn't know what Grimmjow was saying. "My… girl brother?" He said and Shiro blinked.
"Sister!" He said in his own tongue and Grimmjow laughed before saying his word for it again. Shiro repeated it, committing it to memory. There were so many words he hadn't heard yet. "Why?" He asked, referring to, well, everything. Grimmjow hesitated before looking down, his momentary good humor draining away.
"It's ****." A long word that Shiro didn't understand. Grimmjow saw that and tried to simplify it. "Too hard. Not now… later, when you have more words." Shiro understood all of that and nodded. That made sense. At least she was his sister. If she'd been his wife, well, that would have been really awkward. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes." He said instantly. It had been a while since lunch and he was still young. Grimmjow smiled and took him inside the castle, giving a few orders to his servants. Soon they were comfortably ensconced in a sitting room and Shiro got to sample a selection of small, savory pastries. Grimmjow just looked out the window, looking depressed. Shiro inwardly resolved to keep working hard on the language. He didn't like not knowing what was going on. Grimmjow's sister had been so upset to see him, but why?
He would find out, hopefully soon.
As soon as Grimmjow saw the look on Nel's face, he knew there would be a scene.
Nel wasn't right. She hadn't been ever since a horse kicked her in the head at the tender age of four. He blamed his mother for being off in her own little world, the stableboys for not locking things properly, and the nurse for loosing track of her charge. He didn't blame the horse though. She'd just been a year old filly, what else do you do when something tiny and giggling grabs you on the leg but kick?
When Nel looked horrified he knew what she was thinking. And when her lip wobbled in that all too familiar way, he knew she was about to throw a fit. And she did not disappoint.
"Gwimm! Why you replacin' Itsygo?" Her eyes filled with tears and Grimmjow struggled to think of what to say. "That's not right! You love Itsygo! You can't replace Itsygo! We have to wait for Itsygo to get back – " And that was all he could take.
"Dammit Nel!" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, even knowing it was cruel. But he couldn't help it. She was finding the raw part of his soul. "It's been seven years! He's not coming back!" He shouted in her face and she burst into tears. "We have to go on with our lives!"
"NO!" Nel jerked away and ran, and Grimmjow let her. Her attendant, a nun that he'd hired specifically from a monastery that specialized in caring for people who were… special… gave him an apologetic look before hurrying after Nel. Grimmjow sighed, resting his face in his hand. Why couldn't Nel give up? But time was different for her. She probably didn't realize how long it had been, even with the things she had to remind her.
"Grimmjow?" He looked up at his lover's voice and forced on a smile, trying to pull himself together. Shiro's question, though… he thought about explaining the whole situation with Shiro's still limited vocabulary and gave up.
"Later." He told the pale man and fortunately, he accepted that. Food was always an excellent distraction. As they sat by the window, though, he found he had no appetite. Grimmjow gazed out the window, noticing the view. This was a good spot, with a nice view of the gardens. They were blooming beautifully in the height of summer. But he couldn't appreciate it, not right now. Not when his mind was on… him. He didn't know why. He would never know why, and it hurt. If you love something you need to let it go. Grimmjow sighed to himself before looking at Shiro. The pale slave was munching on something with an expression of bliss. Grimmjow recognized the pastry as one of the ones filled with duck pate. They raised their own ducks here, so it wasn't as extravagant as it might have been. Smiling to himself he took a piece of puff pastry and nibbled at the edges. The taste soon kindled his hunger and helped him forget the pain.
After so long, he was a master at forgetting.