Insert witty disclaimer here. -TPP

Damn That Demon

Chapter 3: Paint Me Pretty

Ichigo tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. It was silly. Laughable really, but his anxiety over the possible date with Grimmjow the next night was making him unable to settle down and fall asleep. He kicked around for a while, completely frustrated as he turned towards the wall where a stuffed golden lion stared back at him with shiny black button eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, Kon," Ichigo murmured, punching the poor lion in the stomach until he squeaked pitifully, "You don't know this ass hole."

'Don't be a punk,' a voice in Ichigo's head said. Yeah, call him stupid and immature, but Ichigo talked to the only stuffed animal he had ever owned. Besides, his mother had given it to him a year before she passed away, and he considered the stupid, stitched thing his most valuable possession. If his house ever set on fire, Ichigo knew the first thing he would grab would be Kon. Ichigo didn't know whether to call it crazy or a figment of his imagination, but he had always felt as if Kon possessed a soul. He was seventeen: he wasn't an idiot. He knew stuffed animals didn't talk and parade around like they were alive, but still…there was something about this plushie that was special. He had never told anybody about his fuzzy little friend, and he supposed he never would, because they'd probably stick him in a padded room in a straight jacket before he could explain himself.

Kon's voice continued in his head, making Ichigo frown, 'Ya've never been a quitter, Ichigo. Don't punk out on this guy.'

"I'm not punking out," Ichigo said, irritated with the lion, "I just…don't know about him. I don't know if he's being real."

The lion snickered and Ichigo could have sworn Kon's little golden chest moved, as if breathing, in the darkness, 'Yer in L-O-V-E, love love love!'

"Shut up!" Ichigo threatened, grabbing the lifeless lion doll and shaking it a few times before shoving it under the bed, "Am not, baka!"

Hours passed before Ichigo finally gave in with a sigh and dug Kon out and squeezed him to his chest, listening to him squeak listlessly.

'Yer a good kid,' Kon said, 'that's one reason the demon's gotta like you.'

"Shut up," Ichigo said, no heat in his words as he let his head fall to the side on the pillow, Kon still clutched with one hand on his chest, "I still can't figure out why he likes me."

Ichigo drifted off before Kon could reply.

Ichigo woke with his bedroom door being slammed open and Isshin careening inside, bellowing his name as he tried to do a fancy karate move. Ichigo, from years of dealing with such idiotic behavior from his father, instinctively rolled to the side, his leg flying out from under the covers and connecting with his father's growing gut.

Isshin's eyes bulged like a dead fish as he flopped to the floor, cackling madly about how he had trained his son to be such a deadly warrior.

"Shut up, old man," Ichigo mumbled, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes before standing up, "Mom's the one who took me to all my karate classes as a kid. You're just an idiot who has spastic fits."

"Oh, my beloved son, don't talk to daddy in such a way!" Isshin begged, grabbing Ichigo's leg and holding on for dear life as Ichigo half-dragged him through his bedroom door and into the hallway.

"Let go, Goat Face!" Ichigo growled, shaking his leg until his father gave up and left him alone. He slammed the bathroom door a little harder than was necessary and prepared himself for the day ahead.

What idiot father woke their kid up on a weekend, an ever-lovin' Saturday morning at 9 a.m.? What the hell? Ichigo had gotten barely three hours, and he felt it as he prepared for a shower and brushed his teeth. He was too agitated to go back to sleep, so after his shower and changing into a comfy outfit of ripped jeans and a faded green tee, he made his way downstairs to the smell of pancakes. Yuzu always cooked a big breakfast on the weekends, even if they were mostly Americanized. Ichigo wasn't complaining: he loved the floury, fried slabs of goodness drizzled with insane amounts of syrup, which was filled with unhealthy amounts of sugar and preservatives. He enjoyed clogging his arteries, thank you very much.

He felt a little bit better after eating three platefuls of the stuff, which pleased Yuzu tremendously as she started up on the dishes. Sometimes Ichigo felt guilty that Yuzu had adopted the mother role so easily, but she never complained. Actually, she got quite upset when anybody else tried to cook or vacuum. Ichigo drew the line at her doing his laundry, though: the thought of his sister handling his boxers grossed him out.

"Let's go play soccer," Karin announced, chugging her orange juice before slamming it down on the table like an experienced drinker. Ichigo could just imagine how good Karin would be with alcohol when she was old enough.

"I don't feel like it," Ichigo mumbled, still trying to decide what to do with his morning.

"I wasn't asking, I was telling," Karin said, her tone serious, "Come on. We're all meeting up at the field."

'We're' usually implied Karin's little posse, a red-headed kid with a bad temper named Ginta and a very quiet, awkward girl with strange black bangs named Ururu. When Ginta wasn't making his sister Ururu cry, he was insulting members of Karin's family or Karin herself, who didn't put up with the kid's bullshit. Ichigo would have made the argument that that's not what friends did to each other until he remembered his 'friendship' with Renji Abarai. They were friends in the sense that they could kick the crap out of each other and ten minutes later were sitting in class talking about sports. It's just the way things were, but Ichigo would have never thought a girl would put up with that kind of crap. Karin was an absolute tomboy, but the twins were already in middle school and Ururu was her only female friend. Ichigo wanted to worry about her, but he knew he didn't have to. Karin was a female (and straight) version of Ichigo and they had the same mentality: fuck with me and I'll kick you in the balls.

Ichigo gave in, knowing it wasn't worth the fight and he really didn't have anything else to do anyway. He walked with Karin the mile or so it took to get to the big vacant field that was half dead grass and half weeds. It wasn't the greatest soccer field on the planet, but kids played in it like it was a personal amusement park. Ichigo could remember the time he broke his leg in this field and the time he had busted a kid's nose for making fun of his hair. He had gotten his own nose broken only two years ago in a huge fight with a bald kid named Ikkaku after making a comment that with his head shaved, Ikkaku looked like a penis.

Ah, sweet memories.

"Why the hell did'ja bring Carrot for?" Ginta grunted, his arms folded menacingly over his chest. The little punk was only four foot nothing, so it was no wonder he tried to make up for it by being a total dickhead.

"Look who's talking," Ichigo said, tugging on Ginta's obnoxiously bright red hair that had been gelled into a punk style for the day, "pick on somebody your own size, short stack."

Ichigo reacted in time to save his balls from being crushed by the aggressive youth; the little fucker always tried to knee him in the balls. He had succeeded a few times, but Ichigo always made him pay one way or another. One time he had left the kid tied to the single tree that managed to survive in the old field and left him there for over an hour before feeling bad enough to untie him. Ginta had actually stopped calling him names for over a week.

"Hello, Ichigo," the shy little girl Ururu said, waving a pale hand. She was all skin and bones, her eyes reminding Ichigo of a chibi character. Her two black bangs were split down her forehead as always and she was wearing a simple yellow sundress with flip flops, even though they were supposed to be playing soccer and everybody else was wearing tennis shoes and gym shorts. Everything about this girl screamed weak and innocent, but Ichigo knew she was powerful for her build and age. She could kick Ginta's ass, but she rarely ever did. Her incredible strength was probably what had gotten Karin to like her in the first place, a fellow female not afraid to lay down the law when needed. Ichigo had decided that feminists were scary.

"Hey, Ururu," Ichigo mumbled, ruffling her dark hair and making her giggle before Karin released her soccer ball.

"Enough chitchat," Karin announced, dribbling the ball with her experienced foot, "Time for me to kick all your sorry asses."

"Karin," Ichigo warned, feeling like his father as he reprimanded Karin's cussing.

Karin rolled her eyes before flipping Ichigo the bird and Ginta cackled, "Shut up and play, Carrot."

After a quick lunch and another shower, Ichigo collapsed onto the family room sofa, exhausted. Ichigo was healthy and in shape, but dammit, playing soccer with three middle school kids had taken it out of him. He rolled over and started playing Espada Empire II before deciding to experiment with that damned Hollow cat Grimmjow had beaten him with the day before.

An hour later, Ichigo's eyes were still glued to the screen as he annihilated the computerized adversary's forces of Soul Reaper warriors. Grimmjow hadn't been kidding: this kitty had a lot of nifty tricks, and it made Ichigo's chest tighten to realize he would be seeing Grimmjow in only a few hours.

A look at the clock had Ichigo nearly hyperventilating. He only had four hours to get ready!

He turned off the console and rushed up the stairs, throwing himself into the shower and scrubbing himself down as if he had been chemically contaminated. His skin burned as he scrubbed it, his flesh turning pink from all the unnecessary aggressive action. He shampooed and conditioned his hair with (you guessed it) his favorite strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner before getting out and toweling off, wrapping up effectively before jumping into his room and tearing apart his closet.

He laid out more than fifteen different outfits across the floor before deciding he needed mood music and turned on his stereo. He switched cds over ten times before finally deciding on a reliable American band. Bullet For My Valentine's "Scream Aim Fire" charged his speakers as Ichigo got lost in the music and started throwing shirts and pants everywhere, his towel still securely tucked around his waist.

"No…" Ichigo mumbled, tossing a white Asterisk band t-shirt to the side before moving on.

And on and on and on and on. His bedroom floor looked like his closet had thrown up a spring and fall collection by the time Ichigo was ready to tear out his dried hair.

"What am I going to wear?" Ichigo collapsed to his knees, feeling anguish at the possibility of not looking half decent for the night's festivities. Shit, Grimmjow would probably come dressed to slay, that stupid, sexy grin plastered to his face as he chuckled at the berry and his shitty appearance. He had to look good at all costs.

Yuzu came in a few minutes later, holding a laundry basket, "Laundry, Ichi."

Her eyes were wide as she looked at the wreckage before her but she didn't say anything. Ichigo knew he looked ridiculous, on his knees in nothing but a towel, surrounded by jean and cotton carnage.

Yuzu smiled, pulling a shirt out of the laundry basket she had just brought up. Even though Ichigo didn't allow her to fold his laundry, she usually brought it to him fresh from the dryer, "How about this one, Ichi?"

Ichigo's eyes fell on his favorite collared polo. It was blue and reminded Ichigo of Grimmjow's eyes, the phrase 'Scratch the Sky' on it in what looked like light blue spray paint. It was one of his favorite shirts of all time. Paired with his favorite shredded jeans and his new baby blue Chucks…

Ichigo got up and kissed Yuzu on the forehead, "You're a little genius, you know that?"

Yuzu giggled before leaving her brother to his devices. Ichigo carefully put the outfit together, adding a studded black belt and a black leather wristband Shinji had given him for his birthday. He decided to clean up his wreckage of a room before doing his hair and brushing his teeth again.

It was only five when he was ready and approved by both sisters. He had sprayed enough cologne to be fresh and noticed but not overly stuffy. He called Shinji for moral support as he paced his room, trying to stay calm.

After listening to Shinji squeal for a good ten minutes, he finally said, "This is it, Ichigo! The guy of your dreams coming to whisk you away! Omigod, it's like a Cinderella story!"

Ichigo snorted, sitting on the edge of his bed, "Cinderella, huh?"

"Well Grimmjow is this mysterious, sexy prince in disguise, right? Alright, so I guess it's more like that American Beauty and the Beast story. A hideous, grotesque monster that falls in love with the one person that notices him! And then their love transforms him into the hot, drool-worthy sex god that he really is! You're that person, Ichi! Your love has transformed him into the hottest guy in school!"

Ichigo wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, "He's a demon, Shin. An absolute demon. He's torturing me…"

"Mm," Shinji playfully moaned, "Didn't know you were into bondage, Ichi. That's pretty kinky."

After cussing a giggling Shinji out and hanging up, Ichigo decided he had time for a short nap. He was feeling tired, wouldn't hurt after all, since he hadn't gotten much sleep…

Ichigo jolted up off of his bed as his cell phone blared a familiar English song. Ichigo's whole face went red when he read the incoming caller, wondering when Grimmjow had programmed his phone and how he had gotten Ichigo's number in the first place:

'You're my only infatuation

Don't leave me stranded in my obsession.

My purpose, my possession

Live and die in my obsession, my obsession…'

Ichigo answered it finally, already at his bedroom door as he realized the time, "Shit, I fell asleep."

Ichigo's spine tingled as he listened to Grimmjow's guttural chuckle, "You don't have to lie, Ichi. Gettin' pretty for me?"

Instead of being pissed off, Ichigo found the statement sexy. Shit, he could not get a boner in these pants; they were so tight the entire world would know, "I-I'm on my way downstairs right now."

"Good. I'm in your driveway," Grimmjow husked, "Tick tock, Ichigo. It's 7:01."

Ichigo ended the call, taking the steps two at a time as he bolted through the living room headed for the front door.

"Have fun, my number one son!" Isshin called, waving frantically from his favorite chair as he watched a sitcom, "Call if you're staying over! Make sure you use protection and be safe!"

Ichigo groaned as he slammed the front door closed, completely annoyed with his father. Of course he had given Ichigo the sex talk, but that had been ages ago, when Isshin had thought Ichigo was straight. After finding out about Ichigo's preference, Isshin had become an overly-helpful parent, going so far as to read books about homosexuality so he could better aid his son. Ichigo vowed to find every single one of those parent help books and burn them, and if Isshin bought Ichigo one more goddamned package of condoms, he was going to murder his father and bury the body in the backyard in Yuzu's vegetable garden.

Ichigo hesitated on the front stoop when he saw no car. Instead, he saw a grinning Grimmjow on a very expensive looking blue and silver two-seater crotch-rocket motorcycle.

"Nnoitra let me borrow it for the night," Grimmjow offered, seeing Ichigo's confused expression as he held out a silver helmet towards the berry, "I would have won it if I'd managed the last few weeks, but you were just too tempting. Shame, though. A customized 2011 Yamaha YZF-R1, the world's first production motorcycle with a cross-plane crankshaft. It's so smooth, and it's got outrageous torque..."

Ichigo couldn't stop staring at the piece of equipment between Grimmjow's legs (the bike! The bike was between Grimmjow's legs!) and admired it as he took the helmet from Grimmjow's hand, "You gave this up for a stupid chance with me?"

Grimmjow's grin made Ichigo's nether regions warm, "Time with you is so much better than a fucking bike. I don't think I'll regret my decision anytime soon."

Ichigo put the helmet on his his head, keeping the vision visor up so he could see. It was getting dark out very quickly, so he wanted to keep his field of vision, "Well I think you're an idiot."

Grimmjow chuckled as Ichigo's stomach did cartwheels, "We'll see. Get on, Ichigo."

Oh, but Ichigo wanted to straddle something else, something warmer and more satisfying! "Okay."

Grimmjow revved the incredible bike to life as Ichigo got in the bitch seat (hah! Ichigo knew at least enough about motorcycles to know that little tidbit about the seating arrangements! Although it kind of pissed him off he was sitting in said-seat. It sounded stupid with him sitting in it). Grimmjow revved the engine before turning out of the driveway and speeding up on the street, Ichigo's arms reflexively tightening around Grimmjow's warm, hard muscled body. Christ, but Grimmjow felt good.

Grimmjow laughed, his voice distorted from the dark blue helmet he wore, "It won't take long. About fifteen minutes to our destination for the evening."

Ichigo nodded, his grip tightening as Grimmjow rounded another corner in the darkening city.

Ichigo was confused. They were in some kind of warehouse district on the water. The ocean stretched off out of sight to his right, and nothing but rows of old, dilapidated warehouses were to his left. Grimmjow slowed down until they finally stopped, his legs coming down to support their stop. Grimmjow allowed Ichigo to dismount before getting off and kicking up the stand. The warehouse they had stopped in front of had techno music blasting from it. Now that Ichigo took in his surroundings, there were quite a few cars and motorbikes parked in the shadows of the buildings. Two girls were standing outside the warehouse smoking a cigarette while another guy was carrying a gallon of paint in each hand, swinging them as he whistled and disappeared into the warehouse. What the hell was going on?

Grimmjow eyed him hungrily, making Ichigo gulp, "I told you to wear something comfy and not nice, and you come looking like a wet dream? What's wrong with you?"

Ichigo was in danger of his heart beating of his chest at the statement. Shit, he could feel himself getting hard, and that wasn't a good sign. But who the fuck cared? Grimmjow had just said he looked like a wet dream! That was good, right?

Ichigo decided to play it cool and said casually, "This is what I consider comfy."

Without any warning Grimmjow whipped his own shirt over his head and held it out to Ichigo. Ichigo hadn't had time to appreciate Grimmjow's ensemble before, but it didn't really matter what the blue-haired demon wore. He looked good in anything, even the white wife beater he was sporting now due to his shirtless state, "I don't want you to ruin that shirt, at least. It's your favorite, right?"

Ichigo accepted Grimmjow's shirt, staring at Grimmjow in confusion, "Y-yeah, how did you…"

"You wear it to school a lot," Grimmjow grinned, leaning in towards the berry, "You're not the only one who's been paying attention, Ichi. I pick up on shit too."

Grimmjow seemed to be waiting for something, until Ichigo realized he wanted him to change shirts. Ichigo gathered all of his courage and removed his shirt, trying as quickly as possible to switch them before Grimmjow could burn him alive with his eyes. God, there was no way he could hide his boner now. Ichigo had become such a pervert since meeting this demon.

The white shirt was a little big but comfy, like Grimmjow had ordered. They were both wearing jeans and Chucks, and Ichigo noticed a silver thumb ring on Grimmjow's left hand as he took Ichigo's favorite shirt and put it on his bike before grabbing Ichigo's hand and pulling him towards the warehouse with the techno music.

"If it's a party, why can't we wear what we want?" Ichigo yelled over the volume of the music.

Grimmjow grinned as he pushed open a huge door, revealing the chaos inside, "It's not a normal party."

Black lights, strobe lights, and neon lights were going berserk in the large warehouse. It was some kind of rave, but it looked unreal due to all the lighting and smeared neon paint. Over three hundred bodies had to be packed inside, all of them writhing and running, throwing water balloons that had been filled with paint or waving glow sticks that had been distributed beforehand. Some were dancing, some were drinking, but most were laughing and running around like kids as they tried to smear each other with paint. It was unlike anything Ichigo had ever experienced, and he was having a blast.

Grimmjow had found a guy named Shuhei who Ichigo recognized from Nel's party. He himself was already splattered with plenty of paint that made him glow in the dark lights. He had waved Grimmjow over to a side room where he gave them each a satchel full of paint-filled water balloons, telling them that this was the last of his personal stash. If they wanted more, they'd have to buy off one of the other patrons.

"Is this even legal?" Ichigo had screamed over the music, lugging a giant water balloon which had been aimed at Grimmjow's midrift.

"These warehouses haven't been used in over a decade," Grimmjow yelled, pelting Ichigo with a balloon and getting glow-in-the-dark paint all over his shoulder and neck, "nobody knows these parties exist except for those personally invited. My boy Shuhei never lets me down."

Ichigo had laughed, managing to distract Grimmjow long enough to land a balloon on Grimmjow's crotch that splattered out bright, neon pink.

The game continued, everybody warring on everybody else as they hunkered behind big wooden planks or ran free through the dance floor, almost everybody covered head to toe in some kind of paint. When the balloons ran out, everybody packed onto the dance floor, grinding and groping. Ichigo knew half the people in there were on pills and he could smell weed, but he was having so much fun he didn't pay it any mind. It was the weekend: everybody was trying to have a good time. Grimmjow didn't disappoint Ichigo on the dance floor, both of them moving closer and closer as the bodies began to push in more and more. Soon Ichigo felt Grimmjow's hands on his hips as he swayed with him, his paint-sticky hands making Ichigo pant more than he already was. Everybody was sweating in the heat of the warehouse, partying hard as the techno track changed again. Ichigo recognized it nearly immediately: Basshunter remix with American rapper 50 Cent.

Everybody screamed as the track picked up, everybody gyrating and jumping as Grimmjow and Ichigo were pressed closer, Grimmjow moving around Ichigo to be behind him, his hands still on Ichigo's hips as they got lost in the track. It was fast, brutal, exactly what Ichigo needed. Dammit, Grimmjow's hands were all over him, seeking something, as Ichigo sucked on his bottom lip, trying to decide whether to give into his body or not. Shit, he wanted Grimmjow bad, and this date had so far been the best one by far of his life. He let his hips sway against Grimmjow, quickly grinding back against him. He heard Grimmjow growl and it sent shivers sliding down Ichigo's body as he created more friction between them. Ichigo began to become more bold, dropping his ass to the floor before getting up again, his ass sliding against Grimmjow's growing erection.

"Fuck," Grimmjow hissed, pulling Ichigo around and seeking his mouth. Ichigo sighed into the kiss as it became aggressive. Paint was dripping off of Grimmjow's face from sweat and exertion, sticking to Ichigo as he ran his hands through Grimmjow's hair. He instinctively bucked his hips forward, both of them groaning as strained, clothed, sensitive erections bumped against each other.

Grimmjow finally pulled away, looking at Ichigo like he had been shot. Ichigo was even more confused and anxious when Grimmjow cut through the crowd, leaving him on the dance floor alone. Ichigo followed as quickly behind him as possible, seeing him slip out the back door of the warehouse where a few other people were sitting drunk and smoking weed.

"Grimm!" Ichigo called, finally catching up to Grimmjow as he was making his way to the wooden steps that led down to the quiet, dark beach, "What's wrong, Grimm? What did I…"

"I'm fine," Grimmjow said, sucking in a deep lungful of air, "Just needed some air. Too hot in there."

Yeah, Ichigo agreed. It certainly had been hot, especially with Grimmjow pressed up against him, their breathing labored as their lust battled the bass. Shit, Ichigo was still painfully hard, and he imagined Grimmjow was as well.

"The water looks amazing," Ichigo finally said, looking out at the waves. The moon was out, not quite a half moon but it was still gorgeous. The waves were loud, even though they didn't look that big.

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, his gaze far off, like he was deciding something in his mind. Ichigo nearly had a heart attack when he removed his paint splattered shirt and began unbuckling his belt and removing his jeans, revealing black boxers. Ichigo couldn't stop gaping at Grimmjow's toned, hard muscled body. His eyes drank up the perfect chest, the washboard abs, even the cut, inviting lines of his hips that led to his happy place. Hopefully that would be Ichigo's happy place too someday. Grimmjow made his way towards the water, the bright pink and green paint that was splattered in his hair and on his neck and arms looking surreal in the moonlight, "Rub-a-dub-dub, Ichi."

Fuck me, Ichigo thought, staring after the blue-haired wonder. He was scared to death, but goddammit, was he really going to let an opportunity like this pass? He quickly stripped down, only to realize he was wearing tiny whitey tighties (don't judge him, alright? He couldn't really wear boxers comfortably in the tight jeans he had picked out for the evening.) And what did it matter? Once they were in the water, Grimmjow wouldn't be able to see his embarrassing underwear anyway.

He ran for the water and got in before Grimmjow turned around to face him. He had already waded out to navel level before turning around to see if the berry had followed him.

They proceeded to wash all the sticky, drying paint off of themselves, enjoying the feel of the cold ocean water. The waves weren't brutal at all; they gently lapped at their hips before Grimmjow started moving deeper and disappeared under the water. Ichigo waited a moment for him to resurface before panicking.

"Grimm?" Ichigo called, starting to really worry. It had been over a minute, "Grimmjow?"

Ichigo moved deeper, suddenly frantic. Oh shit, what if he was hurt? Or had a cramp? Ichigo had read plenty of articles about how swimming cramps could leave you immobile. Plenty of people drowned every year from swimming cramps, and what if…?

Ichigo was beyond panicking. No, no, no. He had known better than to come in the water. He didn't know what he had been thinking. Shit, Grimmjow always seemed to make him forget, and he knew better than to go into open water like this. Painful memories started to resurface about the lake, about that day over seven years ago that had taken his mother away from him for forever.

"Grimmjow!" Ichigo yelled, thrashing through the water now.

Ichigo screamed as he felt something grab his leg and pull him under, bubbles cascading out of his mouth as he panicked and kicked before erupting back onto the surface, gasping for air with a laughing Grimmjow.

"It's just like that American movie JAWS," Grimmjow said, not noticing Ichigo's pissed off expression.

"That wasn't funny!" Ichigo yelled, splashing water in Grimmjow's face, "You scared me, idiot! I thought you'd…you'd…"

"What?" Grimmjow floated closer, his blue hair clean and slicked back off of his face, his nose inches away from the pouting Ichigo.

"Drowned," Ichigo said, turning his face away from Grimmjow, "My mom…my mom drowned when I was a kid."

The silence was painful, punctuated only by the sound of the waves as they broke against the shoreline.

"Forget it," Ichigo said, slapping the water and beginning to swim back towards the shore. His chest felt like it had been ripped open, like the salt water was stinging against old, unclosed wounds. He was fighting tears when he felt Grimmjow grab his shoulder, making him turn around.

Ichigo was completely unprepared for Grimmjow's hot, needy mouth as it closed over his. Ichigo's mouth had been opened in surprise, so it had been very simple for Grimmjow to thrust his tongue into Ichigo's mouth and explore it, his tongue ring rubbing gently against Ichigo and making him moan as they slid back against the sand. Ichigo hadn't realized how close to land they had been, but now they were right at the edge, the sand itchy and uncomfortable as it slid over his back and butt, but Grimmjow was there, hovering over the top of him, his body beginning to press against Ichigo in earnest.

"Sorry," he finally breathed, coming up for air, "I'm really sorry, Ichigo. That was a dick move."

"It's okay," Ichigo said, shivering. It was windy and the water was cold, and it didn't help that he was still thinking about drowning, "Let's just…let's just go back."

Grimmjow nodded and got off of him, helping him stand as they went back to their discarded clothes. They only bothered to don their paint-splattered jeans, feeling uncomfortable wet and covered in sand but they'd have to make due. Shoes were followed by socks. Ichigo threw on the dry 'Scratch the Sky' shirt when they got back to the motorcycle, both of them wet, uncomfortable and exhausted as they drove away from the paint party.

Grimmjow pulled up to Ichigo's quiet dark house, pulling off his helmet as Ichigo dismounted, his eyes sad, "I really mean it, Ichigo. Shit, we were having such a good time and I ruined it…"

"It's okay, you didn't know," Ichigo said, scuffing his Chuck against the pavement, "I had…so much fun with you tonight. More fun than I think I've ever had."

Grimmjow's face lit up and Ichigo could have died in that moment it made him so happy. Shit, his heart seemed to swell right out of his chest as Grimmjow dismounted the bike and kicked the stand, looming over Ichigo like a god of war. (He had thrown on the wife beater, which now clung to him snugly like panty hose thanks to his body being wet. Ichigo felt himself salivating as he stared at the boy he so desperately wanted for a boyfriend.

"Will you go out with me?" Ichigo blurted, covering his mouth with both hands as soon as the statement left his mouth.

Grimmjow's eyes widened for a second before he busted out laughing. For a second Ichigo felt like his stomach had just been ripped out, but then Grimmjow leaned forward and bumped foreheads, "Stole the words right outta my mouth, Ichi."

Ichigo sighed happily as Grimmjow kissed him, slow but steady. It wasn't at all like there previous kiss on the dance floor that had been need. It wasn't even like the one on the beach that had been an apology. This was just…sweetness and longing, two things that made Ichigo's heart stutter as Grimmjow's fingers slipped into Ichigo's front beltloops and licked Ichigo's bottom lip before staring him in the eyes.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Grimmjow growled in answer before kissing Ichigo again, "I just thought it would be a little harder to get you under my spell, you know."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Ichigo said, pressing against Grimmjow until he groaned, "You're a demon."

"Mmm," Grimmjow husked, sucking on Ichigo's bottom lip until he whimpered, pulling back with a smirk, "I think you're one too."

"What kind do you think I am?" Ichigo asked, his fingers now in Grimmjow's belt loops.

"A succubus," Grimmjow growled, his fingers moving oh-so-smoothly to cup Ichigo's ass cheeks greedily.

Ichigo laughed, unable to help the picture that evoked. Ichigo was far from a tempting sex demon. Hell, he was a fucking virgin. Of course he was an experienced kisser, but everything else was pretty much uncharted territory. Ichigo was suddenly anticipating the adventures Grimmjow was sure to bring him in bed as he blushed crimson from all of Grimmjow's attention on his neck.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Isshin called from the front stoop, "I thought I told you to call if you were going to be late, my beloved son!"

Ichigo practically jumped out of Grimmjow's arms as Grimmjow looked like he had just shit his pants as he stared at the large man that was Isshin Kurosaki. He was usually a huge goofball, but he could turn to intimidating at the flick of a switch.

"It's not that late," Ichigo challenged, checking his phone. It was just past one in the morning, and he knew Isshin had probably sat up all this time, worrying and waiting. Shit, he really should have fucking called earlier to save himself all this embarrassment, "I'll be right in."

"Do I need to have a chat with Bluebell over there?" Isshin called, pointing at Grimmjow, "Is this the new squeeze? He sure as hell doesn't look like a bottom! I'm gonna need to buy you those magnum-sized condoms I saw on that commercial…"

WHAM! Ichigo had been across the lawn and had jump-kicked his father in the mouth before he had been able to finish the embarrassing statement. Grimmjow still stood motionless, his eyes unsure of what he was seeing before he decided to double over in laughter. Apparently Isshin had been much more intimidating as a father of his boyfriend before this embarrassing act.

"Shut up, dad!" Ichigo shrieked, stomping on his father who was now writhing on the floor.

Isshin disappeared back inside the house as Ichigo tried to control his rage. Grimmjow wrapped his arms around Ichigo from behind, lifting him off of the ground before gently setting him back down and kissing him on the cheek, "I'll call you tomorrow?"

Ichigo nodded numbly as he watched Grimmjow walk back to the driveway and hop on the bike, throwing on the helmet after securing the other helmet on the back. He revved the engine and waved to Ichigo once before tearing off into the night.

"Holy shit," Ichigo murmured, staring at the dark nothingness that had once held his boyfriend. A big, jack-o-lantern smile split his face before he jumped up and down with a woot of laughter, "Holy shit!"

The first thing he did after taking his third shower that day was call Shinji. Fuck it, this was the one time in Ichigo's life where he was allowed to gossip like a teenage girl.