Summary: Ichigo is the pharaoh of Lower Egypt who has been slighted by the pharaoh of the Upper region, Aizen. In order to curry favor, Pharaoh Aizen offers one of his prized slaves, Grimmjow, whom has said to be one of the most beautiful and possibly sacred as his coloring likens him to water, which is the most sacred element to the Egyptians. Ichigo takes quite a liking to his new slave, especially after he discovers Grimmjow's unbreakable spirit and heart underneath the rough yet beautiful exterior.

Warnings: Historical AU, yaoi, lemon, slavery, violence (this includes a whipping scene, and no not in the fun way.) Oh, and forgive me if this is not entirely historically accurate with timeline and the like (in fact, it probably isn't.) I'm not a huge Ancient Egypt buff.

Sacred - Part II

A Grimmjow/Ichigo set in Ancient Egypt

Written for SilverEternity

Grimmjow wrapped the dark cloth tighter around him, completely obscuring his hair and most of his face and body, only his hands and sandal clad feet visible as the cloak wasn't long enough to cover them. Once he was satisfied that no one would be able to recognize him, he stepped out of the shadows, blue eyes darting around to assure him that no guards were around.

There weren't, just like he knew there wouldn't be. He'd taken this route too many times to count, carefully picked out for the way he could take it without being spotted by anyone. There was no doubt that if he were to be identified leaving the palace, he would be severely punished, even executed. People like him had no right to leave the place of their enslavement.

Although, it was getting hard to remember that he was indeed a slave, worth less than the sand they all walked on. In the past few months, in this palace, he had been treated with more kindness and respect than had been shown to him in the past twenty years combined. He truly thought the high priestess Orihime was a godsend, the most patient woman he had ever known, her never-ending well of serenity and charity apparent whilst she had taught him how to read and write and basic arithmetic and etiquette. He felt truly grateful to have met her.

But then again, it was all to easy to remember his place whenever in the presence of the orange-haired pharaoh that had given him such an opportunity. Those sparkling, cocoa brown eyes of the ruler haunted his dreams, plaguing him like a wonderful, fatal illness. There was something about that gentle smile that seemed to be just for him that just would not leave his mind alone.

He had never found another man to be beautiful before, but the Pharaoh was certainly that, and somehow, Grimmjow found himself regretting not having been willing that first time they had met. He wanted so desperately to touch the other man, to take and be taken. He wasn't afraid any longer. In fact, if he thought about it, ever since he had first seen the Pharaoh, he never had been. That sun-kissed skin and lithe body and gorgeous, sultry eyes had awakened something in him that he'd never known was there to begin with, like a deep, aching hunger.

But the Pharaoh had dismissed him upon seeing his hesitance and now, Grimmjow would never get his chance to actually touch the orange-haired man like he so badly wanted to. It wasn't okay, but that was his life.

Touching the hilt of the long, jagged dagger at his side under the dark cloak in reassurance, he took off. He knew the way out of the palace like he knew the back of his hand, having taken it many, many times over the past few months.

Night had already fallen, but strategically placed torches lit his way, casting eerie shadows and light over the tan, stone buildings and the sand below them. He passed palm trees and the holy temples before coming to the village that lay just outside of the palace and its surrounding buildings. He stepped out of the darkness that he had hid in, in order to escape notice from the watchful guards, now free to walk amongst the dwindling crowd. At the end of the path he was on, between two palms, was a public tavern, lit with both small lanterns and the laughs and merry cries of the people inside.

Grimmjow knew they would be waiting for him, just as they did every night, and he wasn't surprised at all when there was a hearty shout of mixed glee and outrage as soon as he stepped into the tavern and a feral grin split his lips, the whiteness of his teeth glinting in the dim torchlight.

A tall, hulking beast of a man with a shaved head and earring in his left ear stood from his cushion, a somber expression on his large face.

"So you have come again, cloaked stranger," he said, unsheathing his scythe-shaped sword, making Grimmjow chuckle maniacally under his breath. "Are you man enough to show your face this time?"

"If you can beat me, I'll show you my face," Grimmjow told the man mockingly, whipping his long, cruel-looking dagger (that he would surely be punished severely for having were anyone at the palace to find out) from underneath his cloak.

No more words were said before the colossal man attacked, striking down with his sword that Grimmjow easily deflected, spinning out of the way to give the man a shallow slash across the shoulder.

This was where he truly came alive, fighting strangers in a tavern at night incognito, where he broke free of the proverbial chains that he had been shackled with his entire life, because he did not have the heart of a slave, but a fighter, and he would always fight. And he just wished that the Pharaoh with hair like the sunset could see him now, not playing the subservient serf role, but being the warrior he was meant to be.

Ichigo couldn't believe what he was seeing, it couldn't be real.

When he had been enjoying his nightly walk around the part of his palace that was mostly empty around that time (and enjoying being alone for once), he had nearly bowled over at the sight of his exotic, blue-haired slave at one of the entryways, wrapping a dark cloak around himself. And it certainly did not escape Ichigo that the man had a long dagger strapped to his waist before it disappeared under the diaphanous but opaque fabric.

Was the man trying to leave the palace?

He had felt a strange mixture of anger, hurt, and loss at the thought and it completely confounded him, and he only knew that he would not allow Grimmjow to leave the palace.

However, before Ichigo could move to put the man in his place, a slender hand had wrapped around his wrist and stopped him. Wondering who dared to touch their Pharaoh in such a way, he whirled around to face none other than the high priestess Orihime with a serene expression on her beautiful face, a dark cloak, identical to the one Grimmjow had donned, in the hand that wasn't on his arm.

And so, at her insistence, he had followed the blue-haired male in his first venture outside of the palace alone. It was invigorating, being left by himself to walk about the surrounding village outside of the palace walls and he would have normally used the opportunity to explore every nook and cranny he'd never seen, but for now he had a strict objective, to follow Grimmjow to wherever the blue-haired slave was headed.

He watched from a distance, cloak firmly wrapped around his face in order to conceal his identity, as the blunette strode right into the local tavern, almost like he had been there several times before. Frowning, Ichigo followed, but pressed right up against the outside wall of the small, stone building so that he could see through the crudely built window just what happened next.

With widened eyes, he watched as Grimmjow, after only mere seconds of being inside the tavern, was attacked by a massive, bald man. Ichigo itched to interfere, for what could a slave know about defending himself? But he realized that he was weaponless, having been careless enough to forget to bring any of his swords with him. Cursing under his breath, he took in the scene, his heart beating far too fast.

Grimmjow deflected the blow, and the many that came after. He was fierce, flawless, every move he made graceful and deadly. Ichigo has never seen the likes of it, not at all, not even among the fighting styles of his own personal guard. Perhaps the blue-haired man could even teach him a thing or two. Perhaps he was touched by the gods, after all...

Was this what his sister had wanted him to see; was this what Grimmjow had risked his life leaving the palace to do, to only fight civilians with no purpose at all?

Within minutes, the Pharaoh had witnessed his slave take down all of the men whom had dared to enter into a fight with the blunette, not dealing any of them fatal blows, just enough to put them in their place. Ichigo was mesmerized completely; if he had thought that Grimmjow was beautiful beforehand, now he was infinitely more so, and the monarch felt a familiar warmth in the pit of his belly and a strange beam of delicious nerves at the sight of his own divine serf display such battle prowess. It was both desire and something he had never felt before and he wasn't quite sure what to call the feeling.

In his trance, he barely had time to press himself completely against the wall so as not to be seen when Grimmjow stepped out of the tavern, untouched and still cloaked in dark fabric so as not to be identified by his strange blue hair. Ichigo held his breath as the slave's cloaked form halted in its tracks and the covered head turned in his direction. He could barely move as, even in the dark of the night, those phosphorescent blue orbs pinned him in place as he locked gazes with the slave.

"Your majesty." Grimmjow's voice was nearly a growl, as if he was displeased that Ichigo was there, which was understandable as he most likely expected that the pharaoh would punish him for sneaking out of the palace and roughing up several civilians. "It's not safe for you to be out here alone," he added, the feral grin he had worn while fighting replaced with a tight-lipped frown and it was a few moments before Ichigo found his voice.

"It is not your place to tell me what is and what is not safe," he said quietly, not wanting to be overheard by any passerby, and in light of the unfamiliar situation, his voice was not as firm as he would have liked it to be.

"Forgive me," was all Grimmjow said before turning back around and walking away. Ichigo could have sworn that the tips of his ears turned red in a way they hadn't since he was a very small child at being dismissed like such. Making sure the cloak he had on still hid his easily recognized face from view, he stalked after his slave.

"Where are you going?" he nearly hissed, causing Grimmjow to pause and Ichigo have to stop immediately, lest he run into the larger man's back.

"Back to the palace, your majesty," the blue-haired slave stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Ichigo frowned.

"I will walk with you," the orange-haired ruler commanded, falling into place beside his slave. It was possibly the oddest thing that had ever happened in his young life, and somehow also the most natural, it felt right to walk beside the other man. Grimmjow said nothing, just nodded his assent and the two walked through the almost empty, narrow streets.

For some reason he wasn't completely sure of, Ichigo disliked the quiet between him and his inferior.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" he demanded to know, looking over at Grimmjow, whose eyes were glued to the ground as they continued to walk.

"I just picked it up, I suppose...your majesty," he added almost as an afterthought. Ichigo just hummed in response, not sure if the blunette was telling him the truth or not. However, before he could even begin to truly ponder that, a sudden gust of wind nearly blew them over and Ichigo had to raise his hands in order to keep the disturbed sand from getting into his eyes.

Once it passed, he looked over to Grimmjow, whose head was now raised, eyes darting in all directions. He heard the man swear lowly (or what he thought must be a swear, because he had never actually heard that word until that moment) before very suddenly, his wrist was seized in a large, warm hand and he was being dragged down the street and an adjacent alleyway.

"Wha-where are we going?" Ichigo nearly squawked in surprise. No one had ever manhandled him, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it but was too stunned to really say or do anything. In fact, if it had been anyone else he may have been immediately suspicious of such an action, but for some unfathomable reason...he trusted Grimmjow. And it unnerved him how he could lose his composure like such in front of such a lowly creature, a slave for Amun-Ra's sake.

"Sandstorm," the blue-haired man grunted, completely dropping the 'your majesty' (which normally would've irked Ichigo had he not been wildly looking around for said sandstorm.)

"What? We have to get back to the palace, now," the pharaoh demanded, pulling on Grimmjow's vice-like grip but not succeeding in breaking it.

"There's no time," the slave growled before nearly tossing Ichigo onto the crowd, whom, again, was not used to being bodily thrown about like such and collapsed against the wall of the tallest building Grimmjow had been able to find. It was not a moment too soon either as he was stunned into silence by his exotic slave ripping off his cloak and revealing the short, white tunic he wore underneath (not to mention his shock of blue hair) and the man dropping next to him so that they were pressed together before wrapping the thick fabric around them.

Ichigo could almost pay the sudden, extremely strong wind that circled around them no mind, as he was still trying to comprehend how it felt to be flush with Grimmjow's chest, the man huddled over him, arms wrapped around the orange-haired ruler's shoulders as the slave shielded them against the sand being blown about with the cloak. Yes, he had been protected many a time from stray assassins and the like by his royal guards, but this...this was so much more intimate.

He wasn't meant to be protected, he was the protector, the protector of his people, someone who never needed protecting. And yet, somehow, he liked it, loved every second of it as he was so intimately guarded from the elements by someone as beautiful as Grimmjow. No, by Grimmjow. Period.

It was a few minutes before the winds completely died down and Ichigo raised his cinnamon eyes to stare at Grimmjow.

They had never been so close before, mere inches apart under that cloak, seemingly completely separated from the world around them. And those sapphires that Grimmjow had for eyes were sucking his very soul out of his body; there was no doubt that the man had been touched by the gods, for no one could so very stunning in that moment if they weren't divine in some way.

Ichigo was a pharaoh, one of the most powerful people in the world, a god in human form. If he wanted something, he took it, always. And yet, somehow, something stopped him from leaning forward those few inches and claiming those full, delicious lips that were rightfully his. Nothing before had ever felt as forbidden as that beautiful pink flesh and it left him panting with want, not breaking away from that cerulean gaze for one second.

Suddenly Ichigo found himself naming the strange tingle he had felt earlier when he had seen Grimmjow fighting those civilians, the one he felt right at that moment, the one he had never felt before, the one that was making the blue-haired man that was technically his property feel like the proverbial forbidden fruit.

It was love. And it felt terrible.

"We should get moving...your majesty," Grimmjow broke the silence, ripping the cloak away so that he could stand once again, offering a hand to the ruler that still sat on the ground.

"Ichigo." At Grimmjow's curious look, the orange-haired man clarified, taking the proffered hand and feeling something like desert lightning shoot up his arm at the contact. "Call me Ichigo," he stated, knowing he didn't have to say that he only wanted the other to do so when they were alone just this once.

"Anything you wish...Ichigo."

Grimmjow felt ridiculous. If he'd thought he's been gussied up when he'd first been presented to the Pharaoh as a gift, that was nothing compared to how he looked now.

A few hours before then, the high priestess Orihime had told him that instead of them having their usual lesson that day, he would be filling in for a servant girl that had fallen ill earlier that day.

Apparently the girl had been expected to serve at some gathering of lesser nobles in the palace, but there was some sort of sickness going around and she and several other girls had caught it, and so there was no one else but the males to take her place and Orihime had chosen him as he was the most aesthetically pleasing male slave or servant in the palace. Of course, when he had asked the high priestess why there couldn't just be six servers at this gathering instead of seven she had just given him a blank stare and said "But there's always seven."

Needless to say, he had been made to endure being made up with the eye paint he so hated and layers upon layers of gold jewelry, including some kind of circlet embedded with sapphires "to match his eyes", fastened onto him forcibly. And there he stood, looking like some sort of little girl's doll and carrying a plate of fruit he would much rather be eating than serving in the reception hall as the nobles openly stared at him.

Grimmjow felt a vein ticking on his forehead, but managed to keep his impulsive mouth shut as they circled and eyed him cautiously like some sort of wild animal being kept in a cage. It wasn't unusual for his coloring to make him into some sort of novelty, but this was ridiculous.

"Slave," one of the noble women addressed him, and though she was several heads shorter she somehow managed to look down on him. "Is it true that the Pharaoh has made his slaves and servants learn to read and write?"

At the mention of the Pharaoh, of Ichigo, Grimmjow's mind was automatically propelled into thoughts of the stunning monarch, the only man, person, he had ever found attractive, enchanting even. So consumed in his thoughts of the man, he almost forgot to answer the noble woman.

"Yes, my lady," he answered gruffly, practicing the proper etiquette Orihime had taught to him, causing the noble woman to titter unattractively.

"The Pharaoh always did have a soft spot for the inferior,it may get him into trouble one day," she chuckled, turning and slinking away, leaving Grimmjow to grip the sides of his tray firmly. The woman wouldn't have dared to say something like that had the Pharaoh not been chariot racing until late afternoon that day.

However, the two noble men that had been at her side didn't follow, but rather stayed by Grimmjow, closing in on him from either side. Had the blue-haired man been a cat, his hackles would have been raised as he hissed, so wary he was of them, one a rather short and squat man with too much eyeshadow and the other a tall, lanky nobleman that reeked of smelling salts.

"Mmm, don't let Anukh bother you, slave, she is just jealous of such a fine specimen," the short one drawled, stepping in even closer. Grimmjow resisted the urge to fling the tray of fruit away from him and run far, far away. Instead, he shivered as the taller one plucked a grape from the tray and into his mouth.

"Yes, a fine specimen indeed," he murmured in agreement, his voice so sleazy it made Grimmjow shudder involuntarily.

"Tell me, slave, have you shared the Pharaoh's bed yet? Surely you must have...what a sight that must have been." The short nobleman was now not a foot from his left side and the taller one was in a similar position, making Grimmjow feel like a cornered animal, and it wasn't far from the point where he would lash out, even as he made indents into the gold tray in an effort to contain himself.

"Hmm, yes, it must have been. Is the Pharaoh just as talented as he looks to be? I'd imagine from the way he acts, he must be very vocal. What a pleasure it must be to bed him," the tall one put his two cents in.

Grimmjow was literally shaking with anger; they could spend all day and night talking of him, but they had insulted the Pharaoh, the one that had shown him a kindness he could never forget, the one whom had insisted he call him Ichigo. And when the tall nobleman's hand grazed over his backside, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Barely thinking, as he was so apt to do, he dropped the tray of fruit to the ground where it clattered loudly before swinging around so that he could deliver a swift blow across the tall nobleman's jaw, which caused the repulsive man to fall to the ground, clutching his face.

There was silence in the reception hall, you could've heard a pin drop onto the floor.

Grimmjow's eyes widened as he realized what he had done, looking from his still clenched fist to the nobleman on the ground, whom was still holding his jaw as he shakily pointed a finger at him.

"Guards!" was all he had to call before Grimmjow was seized from all sides by the palace guards. he didn't even bother to struggle as he was restrained by them, looking on as the noblemen pushed himself off of the ground, finger still pointed at his face.

"You'll pay for this, slave. I believe it's been a while since a satisfactory public whipping."

To say that Ichigo was positively boiling with an all-consuming, burning rage would not have done even a fraction of his anger justice.

He had been chariot racing that day and had come home to his palace happily exhausted, only to sense something was terribly wrong and proven that his senses were right when he was told that the blue-haired slave was being publicly whipped for an incident that had occurred earlier in the reception hall.

Ichigo had rushed to the place where such a thing would be held, immediately spotting the slave, the man, he had come to love on his knees while a nobleman cracked him with a leather whip across his normally flawless (but now stained with fuchsia and crimson) back. Once the crowd had noticed him, they had all automatically dropped to their prostrate positions, including the two noblemen on the platform. He couldn't keep his eyes from roving over Grimmjow and the injuries the whipping had incurred, his anger swelling to new heights.

"Just what is going on here?" he asked, infuriated, blazing eyes darker than the starless night sky sweeping over the stoic and shaking noblemen, disgusted by their actions.

"My liege, I was only exercising my right to inflict punishment upon the slave who dared to strike someone so above his station," the stoic one replied, not daring to raise his eyes from the ground.

"You do not have such a right," Ichigo stated, his voice cold fire, causing the nobleman to look up with surprised eyes.

"Y-your majesty, forgive-"

"No, you do not have the right to touch what belongs to me. You are hereby banished." Ichigo knew it was a harsh punishment to dish out for such an infarction, but he didn't deny to himself for one second that his personal feelings got in the way. Ignoring the man's pleas for his forgiveness, he turned to his personal guards, gesturing towards Grimmjow.

"See to it that the slave is tended to by the high priestess Orihime immediately," he ordered, stepping off the platform, not even daring to make eye contact with the injured, blue-haired man. Doing so would surely result in him slashing up the nobleman that dared to touch what was rightfully his, what he loved.

Grimmjow lay on his stomach, cushioned by large, lush pillows. The sun was just disappearing over the horizon and it cast its dying, warm glow over him as he stared out of the large window just a few feet away from him, his view partially obscured by all of the translucent drapery that was hung about the room he was in. He was only clad in his undergarments so that his injured back could be tended to by the high priestess Orihime, whom turned out to be quite talented at healing. But still there was a dull ache that occasionally turned into a sharp, stinging pain, mostly in between his shoulder blades where he taken most of the whip's blows.

It had been two full days since the Pharaoh had interfered on his behalf and since then he had been in this room, tended to by Orihime every so often. She had taken quite a liking to painting his face when he was unable to stop her and her latest design, teal eyeshadow dashed under his eyes in two swoops, was still on his face.

Huffing in frustration at being in the same position and finding that his chest was starting to ache from trying to breathe deeply while laying on it, Grimmjow slowly drew his knees up and pushed himself up to a sitting position, ever so gently resting his back against the opulent pillows behind him. Letting out a sigh of relief, he wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to watch the sky once more. It was one of those days where the sun took its sweet time disappearing over the horizon, the resulting sunset glow seemingly lasting an eternity. Not that he minded, of course. It was beautiful.

A sudden rustling from the drapery that was strewn about the room caught his attention, sharp blue eyes instantly zeroing in on who was entering only to widen when they saw just who it was.

The Pharaoh of Lower Egypt looked rather casual, wearing none of his usual embellishments, no gold jewelry, no kohl lining his eyes, no headpiece; he was even barefoot. He only wore just a simple, short white tunic that came to about mid-thigh and revealed toned, long legs that Grimmjow found a strange desire to run his hands over their tanned skin and then have them wrapped around his waist. A pleasant baritone voice broke him out of his daze.

"I see you are recovering well," the orange-haired man said, walking closer to the mount of pillows Grimmjow rested on. Briefly the blunette wondered whether or not he was still supposed to bow, but he didn't have time to even respond verbally before the ruler had knelt by his side as if they were equals. Having the seemingly unobtainable, sultry-eyed monarch at eye-level the only time other than when Grimmjow had shielded the both of them from the desert winds was positively exhilarating and sent the slave's heart into a pace too fast to be healthy. "I apologize for not having stopped that...abuse sooner."

The Pharaoh's cocoa brown eyes turned somber but also burned with passion and Grimmjow realized that the other's knees were not even a hand's breadth away from his thigh. It was getting harder to breathe as time went on, but he found his voice, buried under a mountain of nerves and, dare he admit it, desire.

"It was careless of me, your majesty. I deserved it," he said somewhat sounding uncharacteristically pitiful. The Pharaoh's full lips thinned into a frown, thin, orange brows pulling together.

"I thought I told you to call me Ichigo," the ruler said softly, eyes the color of cinnamon sparking with an emotion Grimmjow couldn't decipher. The blunette said nothing in response, unsure of quite what to say, and the orange-maned pharaoh leaned forward so that they were even closer. Grimmjow unconsciously shifted, his nerves soaring to new heights, causing him to wince a little as the movement pulled at his wounds.

"Are you in pain?" the pharaoh's slightly panicked voice filled the room. "I'll call for the hi-"

"No!" Grimmjow's impulsive behavior bested him and he called out before he thinking. He didn't want anyone to come into the room and ruin the rare time he had with the other man alone. "I-I'm fine, your majesty."

"Ichigo," the pharaoh insisted, his frown picking up into a slight smile, coaxing a similar one out of Grimmjow.

"Ichigo," he repeated softly, watching with his intense blue gaze as the orangette he now knew as Ichigo crept closer to his still form, hand hesitantly reaching out to run the soft fingertips that could only belong to a nobleman over his cheekbone, which must have been flushed with anticipation.

"Allow me to atone for what my subjects did to you," Ichigo whispered so softly it might as well have been like he was breathing. Grimmjow was bewildered by the statement; it had been enough that the monarch had interfered on his behalf, but now he was offering some sort of consolation? What would he offer, some gold coins? A slave didn't really have any use for such things unless they were enough to buy his way out of slavery. But...Grimmjow found himself thinking that even if he were to have freedom, he may be all he had dreamed it would be if it meant being without Ichigo.

"Wha-" but he never got to finish his query, because Ichigo pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. The other man's eyes had darkened to the point where they looked like dark pools of warm obsidian and they entranced Grimmjow like some sort of ancient spell.

"They made you feel bad," Ichigo bent forward so that they were so close their breath intertwined in the air. "Let me make you feel good." His words were so provocative in their simplicity, the way he spoke with such base words and in such an...erotic tone. It reduced Grimmjow's mind to nothing.

There was a few moments of absolute silence, even their heavy breathing soundless in the room alit with the sunset's glow that made both of their opposing hair and eye colors sparkle in the light, divine sun fire and water. It was truly a sight that would make anyone drop to their knees in reverence.

Grimmjow lifted his hands, careful to keep his back still, and daringly, perhaps even foolishly, cradled Ichigo's face, thumbs brushing over perfectly defined cheekbones.

"I'd like that, Ichigo," was all he said before bringing their lips together.

It was the first time he had ever kissed a man, and it made all of his past, lackluster experiences crumble into dust. Ichigo's lips were the softest thing he had ever felt as they pressed and moved against his own. Somehow it felt like drinking a deep pull of crystal clear, cold water after spending years in the desert, as if Grimmjow had always longed for this.

The orangette let out a soft moan and the blunette felt the other entangle his slender but capable hands in his hair, pulling on it slightly. Groaning at the feeling, he ran his own hands down the other's long neck and toyed with the bright sunset strands of hair that fell onto bronzed shoulders. He wanted to feel every part of the monarch, the god in human form. Grimmjow obediently parted his lips when Ichigo's tongue swept against them, the pink muscle curling around his and exploring the wet, hot cavern of his orifice before the slave became emboldened and started to fight for dominance, running his tongue along Ichigo's teeth. The other man shuddered and Grimmjow felt a need to hold him close, and so he did, placing a large, broad hand on the small of Ichigo's back and pressing them flush together, the latter's legs parting to straddle his lap as they continued to kiss as if it were the last kiss they would ever have.

The sound of Ichigo's moans and occasional whimpers had a familiar heat pooling in Grimmjow's groin, blood rushing straight from his head to his manhood, and the fact that Ichigo's pert backside was rubbing against him was certainly furthering his condition. He trailed his light touch down the other's spine until he came to said rump and gripped the globes of flesh in his hands, causing Ichigo to cry out and break apart.

Grimmjow's ensuing chuckle had his chest rumbling, but his cockiness was soon dispelled by Ichigo laying hot, open-mouthed kisses down his strong jaw and the column of his neck to his chest, exposed by his lack of clothing except for the undergarment he still wore.

"You...are...so...beautiful," the orangette whispered between kisses, laving his tongue over the blunette's dusky, caramel nipple until it hardened under his ministrations. Grimmjow responded by continuing to massage Ichigo's backside, loving the feeling of that firm, but malleable flesh under his hands.

"You are the beautiful one," he said in a husky voice that would have turned any man or woman to a quivering mess had they heard it. Ichigo looked like he was about to argue the issue further, but instead he seized Grimmjow by the back of his neck and pulled him in for another searing, bone-melting kiss. The slave thought he may just combust into flames from the pure heat that was radiating throughout his body and he hissed as he felt Ichigo's obvious arousal poke him in the abdomen. It turned him on unimaginably to feel that the other man was just as moved by this as he was.

Ichigo broke away once again, a trail of saliva clinging to his sharp chin before his pink tongue flicked out to lick it up. Grimmjow nearly whined at the sight, the monarch with his orange mane tousled and sultry, dark eyes nearly blazing with desire and rosy lips swollen from their kissing; never had he seen someone look so debauched before and he felt himself harden even more, if that was possible.

Ichigo must have noticed this because a smug little smirk crossed his face and then he was pressing kisses to Grimmjow's chest once more, teasingly not paying any attention to the other man's nipples as he made his way down to the fine, chiseled lines of the blunette's abdomen and then even lower...

Grimmjow exhaled sharply as Ichigo's fingers dipped into the beginning of his undergarments and one of his hands came up to entangle in those silken, orange locks as the pharaoh pulled away the white linen slowly to reveal the blunette's erect member, bobbing as it was freed from its confines. Obviously Ichigo saw something he liked because he wasted no time before wrapping one of his hands around the base in a firm grip, which had Grimmjow moaning and leaning his head against the pillows behind him as the other began to pump him, sapphire eyes fluttering closed.

Only to snap open when he felt Ichigo's warm breath fan over the dark pink head of his erection and then the slight, wet touch of the orangette's tongue. Grimmjow's hold in the man's hair tightened as he held his breath watching the other man slowly took his manhood in between those lovely, full lips. He had never felt anything like it, definitely not with any of the common wenches that had been his experience up until that point.

It was incredible, that warm wetness around his cock as Ichigo slid his mouth down the shaft at an almost cruel pace, that talented tongue beginning to work its wonderful magic as it caressed the sensitive flesh.

"You're...amazing," Grimmjow managed to choke out and was rewarded when Ichigo hummed in response, the vibrations around his member feeling so absolutely amazing he wasn't sure if he was still in the mortal world or not.

The orange-haired pharaoh bobbed his head up and down, occasionally pulling away to lap at the head, collecting the juices that gathered there on the tip of his tongue. And when those erotic, ochre eyes looked up through vermilion lashes to lock with blazing blue, Grimmjow almost lost himself then and there, all of the muscles in his body clenching and unclenching uncontrollably. But Ichigo seemed to sense this and broke away completely, wiping his mouth almost delicately with the back of his hand.

Bewildering Grimmjow, he took the hand that was placed on his head to place it next to his mouth, sucking on the blunette's fingers wantonly, but he didn't bother to elaborate on why he was doing so even though the confusion was clear on the slave's face.

"Ichigo, what are-" but again, Grimmjow never got to finish his question because Ichigo pulled away yet again, letting the man's hand fall to his side as he sat back on his haunches, elegant hands coming up to brush away the shoulders of his white, linen tunic. The diaphanous fabric fell easily and pooled around the orangette's slender hips, revealing a lithe, toned chest covered with flawless, sun-kissed skin. However before Grimmjow had even moved an inch in the other's direction, his desire to touch that beautiful skin nearly overwhelming him, Ichigo placed a hand on his sternum, keeping him from moving.

"You'll tear your wounds open if you move too much," the ruler teased in a lilting tone, his other hand pulling away the rest of the tunic to reveal that he wore absolutely no undergarments whatsoever. Grimmjow would have glared at the other man if he hadn't been so busy biting his lower lip raw at the sight of Ichigo's exposed manhood, any blood left in his body shooting to his own. There was no doubt that Ichigo was every inch a male, but there was something so beautiful about him that left Grimmjow breathless.

The orangette slid up back onto his lap, moaning when their cocks brushed together, sensitive, swollen flesh rubbing against each other as they came together in another bruising kiss, one of Ichigo's hands coming up to grasp at the back of Grimmjow's neck and the other lifting the hand that he had previously wet with his mouth to bring it to the cleft in his marvelous ass.

Grimmjow had wondered briefly what role he would play in their first time together, and had decided he didn't care much at all, because...it was Ichigo. Though he was slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to be jostled about too much, considering his back was still healing.

Not waiting for Ichigo to give him direction, he broke their kiss to stare up into gorgeous, soul-sucking cocoa brown eyes as his forefinger circled their owner's entrance. He knew the basics of what he had to do next, having had it explained to him in great detail when he was still expected to be part of the pharaoh's harem. Ever so slowly, still a little unsure of himself, he watched Ichigo's face as he slipped that digit into the tight warmth of the man above him and he nearly died out of sheer adoration when the orangette let loose a soft cry, eyes flickering shut like smoldering flames disappearing into nothing.

He marveled at just how Ichigo's passageway hugged his finger and soon he was slipping in a second one, still watching the other's flushed face as he began to move them in a scissoring motion. However, as the orange-haired man winced in obvious discomfort, he paused.

"This is hurting you," he stated, going to withdraw his fingers from Ichigo but stopping when he felt a firm grip on his wrist. Stunning ochre eyes snapped open, lust and a little bit of annoyance in their depths, though the orangette's lips pulled up into a wry smile.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," Ichigo reassured him, leaning forward so that his next words were mumbled against Grimmjow's lips. "Besides, as soon as you are well again, it will be your turn."

The passion and intent in Ichigo's voice had Grimmjow shuddering in pleasure and in an effort to gain some dominance, he thrusted his digits further inside the former's entrance and was rewarded when Ichigo let out a long, drawn-out moan, cocoa eyes wide.

"Right there, Grimmjow," the pharaoh commanded in what he probably thought was a noble sounding voice, but was actually quite breathless and left Grimmjow smirking viciously, a sharp canine apparent through the part in his lips. But he was obliged to obey his master and so the slave tapped his fingers against the place that had Ichigo writhing in pleasure on top of him in mere moments, mouth open and eyes heavily hooded.

Needless to say, he was surprised when Ichigo reached down and grabbed his wrist once more, forcing his hand away from the man's now stretched entryway. Grimmjow hissed in pure bliss as that hand then wrapped around the base of his cock and angled the head so that it brushed against the opening to that tight warmth that he couldn't wait to buried to the hilt inside of. Fortunately, he did not have to wait long as the monarch above him, looking like the god in human form he truly was, absolutely magnificent, impaled himself on his manhood. The orange-haired man brokenly moaned in what Grimmjow could only guess was pained pleasure as he slowly slid down until the blunette's erection was all of the way inside of him.

Then placing his hands on Grimmjow's shoulders, blunt, crescent-moon nails digging into the tanned skin there, Ichigo began to move. There was a pulling sensation on the slave's cock that had the man's stunningly blue eyes rolling in the back of his head, navy eyelashes fluttering as the master began to ride him, that tight warmth never ceasing to surround him with a snugness that had him seeing stars, blinding him with pleasure just like a desert sandstorm, like the one they had endured together.

Grimmjow didn't doubt for one second that he was completely and utterly devoted to the Pharaoh of Lower Egypt, the one he had been given to by force, the one he would now lay his life down for. The holy people said that he had been touched by the gods, obvious from his water blue hair and eyes, but he had never believed it until this moment. Only a person as blessed as that would be able to experience this unadulterated, mad euphoria with the man above him, the Pharaoh with hair the color of the sunset and eyes so sultry they could bewitch any man or woman, his owner, his master, his love. Ichigo.

Present Day

Giza, Egypt

Kisuke Urahara surveyed the tomb he had spent weeks excavating and years before that searching for; it was to be the greatest find of his career. The tomb of the nameless Pharaoh that had apparently had hair the color of the sun.

It was a grand thing, everything dripping in gold and rubies and sapphires, luminescent even under the thousands of years of ancient dust that coated them. Statuettes of servants and holy animals meant to carry the ruler over into the next life filled the tomb as well as jugs of wine and honey, the fruit that had been served on plates for the deceased pharaoh long since disintegrated into nothing. And then, in the very center, was the sarcophagus of the monarch himself, and it was everything it should be, positively massive and painted with the visage of its owner. Kisuke found himself kneeling in reverence at the sight, even as a pomegranate-haired woman stalked about like she owned the place, whistling lowly.

"They sure knew how to send a man off to the Underworld, huh?" she remarked gaily, running her hands over the hieroglyphics that prefaced the archaic coffin. Kisuke couldn't say he much cared for Yoruichi Shihoin's lack of respect, but she was the best ancient languages translator there was, his own personal rosetta stone. So, in short, he was stuck with her.

Yoruichi bent down, sharp golden eyes running over the lettering and symbols that had been carved into the stone long ago. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

"What is it?" Kisuke asked, standing up and moving closer to where she was standing, peering curiously at the hieroglyphics, though he had no idea what they spelled out.

"Looks like you may have found more than what you were hoping to," Yoruichi said, her voice uncharacteristically low and somewhat humble as she read just what exactly lay in this tomb.

"What do you mean?"

"Says here that not only does the body of the sun-colored Pharaoh lay here, but his...," she trailed off, biting her lip as Kisuke felt a great swell of excitement in his chest. Here he had been hoping to just find the Pharaoh, so what else had they stumbled upon?

"What?" he asked impatiently, gaze flicking upwards to take in the blank stare of the painted sarcophagus, where he noticed the eyes were two encrusted sapphires that as he kept staring, seemed to flicker with the tiniest of lights, before returning to their usual emptiness.

But perhaps it was just his imagination.

"Well, it says that not only does the body of the sun-colored Pharaoh lay here, but the body of his sacred serf, the one who embodied water, lays here as well, and to disturb them would incur the wrath of the god Amun-Ra himself," Yoruichi finished, looking up to stare at the coffin that they now knew held not one, but two bodies.

"There's a curse on this tomb?" the blonde man asked, though not really caring, he didn't believe in such things, though his female companion did to some degree.

"It would seem so."

"But why are they both buried here? Why would a slave be buried with the Pharaoh of Lower Egypt?" Kisuke muttered under his breath.

"Isn't it obvious, Kisuke?" Yoruichi asked, flicking the blonde man's hat off to fall onto the ground in a playful gesture. "They were in love."

A/N: My sincere apologies, this should have been out much sooner, but real life kept demanding time away from the computer. *sigh* Oh, well, I hope you all enjoyed! I'm exhausted. It was my first time writing a GrimmIchi smut scene entirely from Grimmjow's point of view, but I think it's one of my favorites so far. A huge thanks to SilverEternity for such an awesome request, I had so, so much fun writing it!

You can make up how Grimm and Ichigo met their demise, but I envisioned them both dying in some epic battle, where Grimmjow was fighting beside Ichigo and they were both wounded fatally before dying next to each other.

Now I have to do quite the amount of research on some of the requests (both historical and media-wise.)

Drop a line? :)