Here is the latest chapter, thank you to all who have reviewed and all who have read :D Please consider reviewing, I always appreciate it!


Once they reached Las Noches, Grimmjow was gone—to report to Aizen, undoubtedly. He wouldn't keep such a prize as the hollow they'd captured hidden for very long. It seemed to Ichigo that Grimmjow walked a very fine line with his master, constantly overstepping his boundaries, and then proving himself in order to make up for it. Though Nel assured him Aizen was a kind, generous keeper, Ichigo knew he'd never had to appease the upper-ranks in all his time as a substitute shinigami. They demanded that he did his duty, nothing more—Ichigo wasn't required to devote himself to them like a servant.

He found his room and soaked in a bath for an hour or two, letting his crushed chest and ribs leech their pain into the hot water. It was relaxing, and more helpful than anything Grimmjow had given him. He didn't attempt redressing the wound; it was too much of a bother on his own, with a stiff and painful torso. His arms didn't move as freely and it made things impossible.

Nel found him not long after, bounding with energy as always, excited to hear of his adventures. Ichigo's strained voice betrayed him, the product of his tight abdomen, and Nel immediately became maternal. It was a strange dichotomy, but not one he particularly resented. As selfish as it was, Ichigo liked having someone who cared about him, even if only in a friendly way.

"Hm, just like Grimmjow to let you get yourself hurt when he's around," she muttered in irritation as she re-bandaged his wounds. She'd bodily removed his cloak-like top and used fresh dressings to re-tie his chest. She did it better, and with more care, than Grimmjow had.

"Wasn't his fault," Ichigo murmured.

"Don't make excuses for him!" She cuffed the back of his head lightly. "He's a moron. Only cares about himself, despite what he says."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Nel said, and looked away, concentrating on her task. She drew the wrappings taut, without any slack to spare, and Ichigo's lungs felt constrained. He knew it was for his own good; they would heal more readily. "There, how's that feel?"

"Tight," Ichigo managed.

Nel only smiled, "Then I did it right, didn't I?" She hugged his shoulders with half her normal enthusiasm, and it made Ichigo feel strangely valued, that she cared enough to be gentle. "I can get you something for the pain. I'm so sorry I can't do anything more for it than this."

"Don't worry about it," Ichigo reassured her, and his smile was genuine.

It was nice, having her as a counter-balance to all of the harshness in Hueco Mundo. Ichigo wondered, not for the first time, how she'd survived to become tercera Espada.

"Grimmjow seems mighty proud of what you brought back from the desert," she said. They sat in Nel's room, on a featureless couch, but the company made it feel welcoming. "Did you have fun?"

"I guess. It was just good to get out of this place, I suppose." Ichigo did up the fastenings on his uniform, though his chest ached with the dull, comforting tightness the bindings provided. "I don't hate it, but a change of pace is good."

Nel sighed as if she completely agreed. "I never really liked it here. It's too much of the same. But it's what Aizen wants, so whatever." She looked at him conspiratorially, returning to her original subject. "The two of you didn't kill each other; that's surprising."

"I didn't have much of a choice," Ichigo snorted. "My sword's useless."

"Would you have tried, if you had the chance?"

"In a heartbeat." Ichigo crossed his arms sourly. He leaned back heavily in his seat and glared at the far wall, imagining it was the back of Grimmjow's head and that he could somehow bore a hole through it with his mind alone. It would've been easier, to turn things back to just the fight they used to have, before Ichigo's traitorous thoughts had contaminated everything.

Nel flicked his temple and Ichigo started, turning his glare on her instead. She was smiling impishly, "I don't believe you!"

"Che, you can believe what you want." He chewed his lip in annoyance; even if he did want the stupid prick, he wasn't about to tell Nel. It wouldn't be a secret for long if he did. "That asshole pisses me off," Ichigo muttered, and he wasn't sure what irritated him more, the fucker's smug leer, or the way he managed to make such a thing so attractive.

Nel made an exasperated sigh, as if giving up. Ichigo was grateful. He knew she had his best interests at heart, but couldn't shake the dire notion that if he admitted to liking the bastard, Nel would ensure they both behaved like it. Ichigo wasn't sure if he was ready for anything to happen in the first place; being thrust into it with Nel's characteristic wild abandon was twice as mortifying. Ichigo felt his face heat at the idea, and he tried to ignore it.

Nel didn't let the silence between them last. "They say whatever Grimmjow brought back is pretty big. Who's he strong as?"

"Very strong," Ichigo agreed with a nod of his head. It might be Espada strength, once Aizen used the Hougyoku on it. "I can't really say for certain. When will Aizen do the transformation?"

"He never waits long, especially now." She sighed. "I want to get out, to find more. I know it'd make him just as happy."

"Jealous?"

"I'd have to be pretty desperate to be jealous of Grimmjow," she smiled as though he'd made a joke, even if Ichigo's question was sincere.

"Grimmjow doesn't think much of your new arrancar—"

"Pfft, I'm tired of people saying that about Zulu," she huffed. "She just had a rough transition, it happens. They just don't like that I brought one back first!"

"So she remembered her name?"

Nel nodded to a corner and upon looking, Ichigo saw a girl hiding behind a chair; she watched him with a lamp-like gaze and had most likely been there the entire time. Her eyes reminded Ichigo of an underwater fish, one that rarely saw natural light: large and hugely dilated.

"Zulureatha Guixe," Nel said, though Ichigo was sure he wouldn't get the pronunciation right if he tried. "She remembered not long after."

Nel made a motion and the girl wandered out; she had the dizzy, unstable gait of a foal that'd just learned its feet. But she came readily, as though Nel were a beacon. The girl was dressed in a white arrancar uniform, with a pleated, knee-length skirt. Her eyes remained on Ichigo as she moved, like he was something new and unique.

"He smells nice," she said, her voice as empty as Ulquiorra's. Abruptly, she took his hand, and her skin was clammy.

"This is Ichigo," Nel said, undeterred.

"I like him." Her fingers were passing over and over Ichigo's palm, cold. He could see her teeth; rows upon rows of them in her mouth like tiny needles. Ichigo noticed her hollow mask was similar, thin spines circling her collarbone like a necklace. She raised his hand in hers, "I want a taste."

Ichigo immediately felt alarmed, but what was he going to do? Push away a little girl? It would be like knocking over one of his sisters.

Nel made the decision for him, brushing the child's hand away, "He's a friend. You know how to treat friends."

Zulu—that was her name—nodded, but her stare didn't leave Ichigo, and he

began to blush uncomfortably.

"What're Dondo and Pesche up to?" Nel grasped both the girl's hands and beamed towards her. No one could refuse that look, Ichigo included. Zulu faced her for the first time. "Why don't you go find them?"

The purple-haired girl nodded once before leaving with the same unsteady, weaving stumble that she'd approached them with earlier. Nel watched her go, seemingly unperturbed by her behavior. "I think the Great Desert Bros miss having a little companion," she said, wistfully. "It's nice having her around."

"Is she…okay?" It seemed like the obvious question.

"Now don't you go being like the others." Nel turned swiftly in her seat, tapping one finger against the tip of Ichigo's nose, and his eyes crossed trying to follow it. "She'll be great, in time. Aizen likes her. Her power is like his."

Ichigo wasn't sure what that meant, and didn't know if he wanted to ask. The way she'd stared at him, mesmerized, reminded Ichigo of what the hollow in the desert had said, of how their kind was instinctively drawn to the shinigami. Ichigo wondered if the opposite were true, and if he could blame it for his infuriating attraction to Grimmjow.

He wasn't about to ask Nel; the subject would be too revealing, and she already seemed to suspect something. Ichigo returned to his room, mind caught up with too many useless things, especially where they concerned Grimmjow. He wondered if maybe it was something else, something the arrancar or Espada did to their fraccion to make them follow. Ichigo would've taken that as a relief. Maybe he should've asked Nel about that; Ichigo was really just hoping for someone else to tell him he was insane in wanting anything from Grimmjow. Then he would've been able to stop, Ichigo was sure of it. He couldn't quit thinking about it, with no one else to dissuade him.

He flopped into bed, entire body in pain from his damaged ribs, and he didn't bother taking off his clothes. Nel could've helped him but if it required a spell or potion from Aizen, Ichigo simply wasn't interested. Better to take the agonizing reality than an illusion.

Ichigo didn't sleep, but drifted in and out of a continuous doze. His dreams shifted as he woke and slept; they were of the world in Hueco Mundo and the one he'd left before—people he missed; he wished he could speak to them, through his dreams and his memories of dreams. Grimmjow appeared like an illusory beacon in every one of them, and Ichigo went to him instinctively, not knowing why, but all things made sense in his half-conscious mind.

He came awake abruptly as light spilled in from the doorway. Ichigo could tell in a moment it was Grimmjow, from the shape of his body and the unruly mess of hair, and it worried him, such instant familiarity. His heart stuttered excitedly, and Ichigo hated himself.

"Fuck, d'you ever know how to sleep!"

Grimmjow strode into the room and Ichigo's muscles tensed, though he didn't rise. It was only Grimmjow, and despite everything that Ichigo thought—which was a lot—unless the other man gave a provocation, nothing was likely to happen.

Nothing like he wanted. Maybe Grimmjow came for a fight, but Ichigo wasn't about to grant him even that, not with his body aching like it was.

Grimmjow stood over his bed, eyeing Ichigo's reclined form before sinking down to rest with his back against the low rise at the foot of the bed. "You humans're fucking lazy."

"The curse of the living," Ichigo mumbled. He could feel the words rumble out of his pained chest. It seemed to snap him around, and he glared at the back Grimmjow's head, not caring whether or not the other man could feel it. "It's your fault anyway, carrying me along on your wild goose chase."

Grimmjow made a huffing sound, flopping the back of his head against Ichigo's mattress. "Fuck. I'm bored. Get up, I wanna fight."

"Go away," Ichigo groused. Grimmjow made an indistinct hmph, unmoving from his current position.

His hair was splayed against Ichigo's sheets, and he reached for it. It was surprisingly soft, and Grimmjow made a quiet sound as he leaned into the touch like an affectionate cat. Ichigo realized the comparison was too apt.

"This is a good color," he murmured, and Grimmjow gave an indistinguishable reply. It was intimate, touching him this way. The arrancar's skin was warm under his fingers and he was reluctant to let go. "Grimmjow."

Grimmjow said nothing, rolling his shoulders as Ichigo massaged his scalp. He looked very young from this perspective, with his mask hidden on the other side of his face and no anger or violence twisting his features.

"How long are you intending to keep me here?"

"As long as it takes," Grimmjow said.

"Takes for what?"

Grimmjow shrugged, as if even he didn't know. "Long's it takes to make you realize I fucking beat you." His eyes flicked to Ichigo's; they were shining with a challenge. "You still think you're better'n me, even after all this. I'll show you. Just you fucking wait."

"Do you really need to keep me here for that?"

"Where else? Fuck, what're you gonna do, play with the other shinigami? You know they'll only make you bored. You belong here."

"Even if I'm unhappy?"

"Especially if you're unhappy." Grimmjow's teeth flashed as he said it.

Ichigo didn't move his hand, still threaded in Grimmjow's thick, blue hair. It was surprising to have such a bright shade feel so natural and soft. "Why?"

Grimmjow shifted, shoulders moving against the foot of the futon. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he had no malicious reason—nothing to keep Ichigo, other than his own interest in beating an opponent. It was an easy excuse.

Ichigo didn't believe it for a minute. He'd realized, in the desert and with Grimmjow—maybe even before then—he knew he wanted Grimmjow. Deeply and instinctively; he'd tried to suppress it and the feeling just came back all the worse.

Ichigo hated that he couldn't resist it. But he found, in that moment, he simply didn't care.

He swung his feet off the bed, around the other man's head and onto the floor. He'd been half-sleeping for several hours, and suddenly rising made vertigo buzz behind his eyelids. Grimmjow watched him from where he sat, as Ichigo stood before dropping to his knees; they faced each other, and Ichigo kneeled across Grimmjow's legs until they were inches apart.

"What the fuck's this—" Grimmjow started before Ichigo cupped the side of his face in his hand and leaned forward. He pressed their lips together, and felt Grimmjow's slight intake of breath—the tensing of his face and neck and shoulders, all the way down to his stomach, where Ichigo's legs were spread across his hips. Ichigo pushed in, one hand against the back of Grimmjow's head as Ichigo opened him up with the tip of his tongue. Grimmjow was like nothing, a mannequin under him until Ichigo slipped inside, his tongue moving against the arrancar's as he coaxed out a response.

Then there were hands against his chest, on either side of his ribcage as Grimmjow held him, pressing into Ichigo's mouth; he could feel Grimmjow's nails digging into his skin.

"What're y'doing?" Grimmjow said, in a voice that made things tighten and tremble inside Ichigo. He didn't know what, exactly, he was doing; he couldn't give a good explanation, so he didn't give one at all and continued to take the other man's mouth. Grimmjow made a small sound as their lips parted, but Ichigo wouldn't let the absence last, and wrapped his arm around the arrancar's shoulders, drawing them together with a hand against Grimmjow's neck.

Ichigo's cock was so hard, and he let the other man feel it, sinking down against the Espada with the full weight of his body—he moaned slightly, a murmur into Grimmjow's mouth.

Then the arrancar surged against him. Ichigo found himself very abruptly on his back, staring at the ceiling while Grimmjow jerked away. Ichigo's ribs protested angrily, bruised and abused, aching from the rough treatment.

"What the fuck, you stupid piece of shit?" Grimmjow hissed, pacing tight circles around the room.

"What's the fucking problem?" Ichigo snapped, edging himself up on his elbows.

"What's your fucking problem?" Grimmjow snarled, stabbing a finger at him.

"I don't have a fucking problem, okay? I thought you'd be into it." Ichigo got to his feet. "It's just that—shit, Grimmjow, you've only been nosing around me for as long as I've been here!"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Grimmjow huffed, hands on his hips. He spun, abruptly, towards the door.

Ichigo used a flash-step to put himself between them, slamming the door with one hand as Grimmjow tried to open it. The arrancar looked enraged.

"Don't act like there's nothing there," Ichigo hissed. "I see the way you look at me. Why did you keep me, Grimmjow? Just to rub it in? And for what? Fuck, just why?"

Grimmjow's nostrils were flaring; he looked pissed as hell and unable to form words. His head shook slightly, side-to-side, before he said, "And now you got it into your head that this's why I kept you, eh? Think you can use it against me, is that right?"

He punched Ichigo suddenly, in his chest against his breastbone. It knocked the air out, broken ribs screaming; Ichigo coughed and stumbled, gasping air back into his lungs.

Grimmjow regarded him as though Ichigo was disgusting. "Che, this your idea of payback, brat? Like I'll let you go if you just give yourself up? Fat chance."

"What the fuck're you talking about?" Ichigo said with the remaining air he had.

"I see your game, yeah?" Grimmjow was sneering. "This's fun, ain't it? You know you can't win in a fight, huh, so now it's flesh? Piss off!"

Grimmjow jerked the door open, striding out and down the corridor.

Ichigo watched him go, his skin burning with humiliated rejection. He hated that he'd left himself open for it, but what the fuck? It wasn't like Ichigo was stupid; he could read the signs people presented him with, and Grimmjow's had been flashing in brilliant neon for the past several weeks that he wanted Ichigo. And not just in the possessive way the arrancar put everything into—Grimmjow wanted to fuck him, and Ichigo knew it. Which was why he'd done something about it—against his own nature—and now was paying for it: because Grimmjow had to be an absolute prick at every turn; even when he laid down the rules, Ichigo wasn't allowed to play by them.

Shit. Ichigo clenched his jaw, driving all of his unspent arousal out of his mind as though through force of will he could ignore it. He shut the door and leaned against it, his ribs on fire from the punch Grimmjow had thrown at him. That pain was the arrancar prick's fault in the first place; he could've at least made Ichigo's recovery worthwhile, though Ichigo realized now how impossible that was. Now he didn't just feel physically miserable, he also felt like a foolish idiot.

Grimmjow. Fuck him, Ichigo's mind wanted to say, very readily and very justifiably. The Espada had all but claimed him for his own—Grimmjow would say that he had, that Ichigo belonged to him.

In every way except the most obvious, Ichigo thought. And how disgusting was that? Ichigo ignored the part of himself that was pure base desire; that wanted Grimmjow just as a relief for all of the pent-up emotions the arrancar created in him. Ichigo didn't like laying things out only for them to be rejected; it made him feel pathetic, as though Grimmjow truly had no use for him.

He stumbled and fell heavily on his bed, his chest protesting even that.

Fuck. He wanted Grimmjow. He wanted him badly. That was no longer a secret, and Ichigo had no one to blame but himself. He hated the other man for creating this impossible imbalance between them—and Ichigo hated himself now, for giving Grimmjow just that much more to mock him with. The arrancar liked lording his unfair advantage, and Ichigo was just itching to rectify the imbalance, but here he'd gone and given Grimmjow another reason to find him weak.

It was deeply painful that Grimmjow didn't want him in return. How could the arrancar see him as only an opponent, especially when he was so possessive all the time? Ichigo couldn't understand it, and realized he had no frame of mind that fit—and he sure as hell wasn't about to run to Nel for advice this time.

Ichigo curled up, cradling his aching torso. He dragged a blanket over himself and tried to forget everything. If nothing else, this taught him one thing about the arrancar—Grimmjow, and maybe the rest of them, despite what their intentions seemed—they simply didn't operate on the same level as normal human beings. Considering them in such terms would only end as it had—with Ichigo in pain, not limited to the physical, for once. And he hand no one to blame for it but himself.


A big thank-you to Q and B, my betas, who have read and helped me with this entire fic! 3