So, hello! I apologize for the delay in updating! I had a bit of personal problems that weren't resolved until recently. honestly, I'm surprised to be updated now! I hope you enjoy the following chapter.


Ichigo's body was pressed up hard against a wall, his face and frame towards it. And at his back was Grimmjow—he could feel the other man's mouth against his exposed skin, teeth and hot breath, like Ichigo was an animal trapped in a snare. His fingers clawed fruitlessly at the flawless wall in front of him.

"D'you know why you're here?" Grimmjow murmured, and his tongue swiped out, drawing a hot trail down the exposed nape of Ichigo's neck.

"Haaahhh." Ichigo whined like a thing without consciousness, wanting. He had no response for the other man, only raw need. He couldn't move from where Grimmjow had pinned him, the arrancar's body pressed in a long line over Ichigo, holding him fast.

"It's cause you're mine," Grimmjow said. His teeth nipped at Ichigo's skin and shoulder, before biting a thin trail down. Ichigo melted, an open surrender, one he hated; but only slightly. "Mine."

Ichigo made a helpless sound, and hated himself even more. Hated how much he wanted it, the hard press of Grimmjow against him; he couldn't control anything and pushed back with his shoulders and hips, arching.

Grimmjow's arm twisted over his chest, under his shirt and his claws raked a path from Ichigo's ribs to his bare stomach. "Cause you give yourself up this easy, that's how I got you."

And Ichigo didn't care; didn't care if he gave it up to this thing holding him, he only wanted. His body twisted and begged and twitched; he felt Grimmjow's fangs sink into his shoulder, deeper and deeper, just as Ichigo wanted it; it was never deep enough...

It was a good dream. It was a good dream, but that was all it was; Ichigo realized it as he stirred. It wasn't the violent awakening that seemed more appropriate, he'd simply moved and jostled himself, his eyes opening. He felt alone and empty as soon as he awoke. And how fucked up was that, that he was sad his dream wasn't the reality?

Fuck. He was ready; eager enough to go and find that fucking arrancar, if only to relieve his tension. It disgusted him, how much he wanted such visceral things, and the sharp sting of rejection rose fresh in his memories. That'd hurt-a lot; more than just the physical blow of being punched in the ribs. Ichigo never did this sort of stupid thing in the first place, making himself vulnerable enough to get hurt; now that he had—and he'd had to have chosen the worst possible person for it—he deeply regretted it. His subconscious desires couldn't have picked a better revenge for his chronic lack of attention to them.

Ichigo groaned, still hard and angry at himself for it. It made him just as pissed at the arrancar, for making him feel this way; even if Grimmjow wanted none of it, he could've at least had the decency to not lead Ichigo on like he had. Ichigo knew that wasn't exactly true—Grimmjow probably was only behaving in his natural manner, possessive and suggestive. It made Ichigo wonder if the other man wasn't simply toying with him again, like this was some new game he could use to drive Ichigo a fresh variety of crazy. Ichigio knew he had every reason to be even angrier at the other man, for putting such thoughts in his head in the first place.

His limbs flopped loosely on his sides as Ichigo rolled on his back, reaching for his aching dick and feeling it like a burning brand against his palm. He could ignore what'd happened and just pretend for a moment; it was good, the few seconds it lasted—jerking off to the thought of Grimmjow's hot mouth, his teeth as they sunk into Ichigo's shoulder. How did it come to this, that such things aroused him?

Ichigo didn't spare too much thought on it. It'd be wasted anyway, he knew. He wanted and that was enough; wanted Grimmjow and that was disgusting enough. But Ichigo was stuck here, in Hueco Mundo, miles and dimensions from anyone else—thinking about it, there really wasn't anyone else. Didn't mean Ichigo couldn't try to find a decent excuse.

He finished in only moments; orgasm dragged out with his toes curling and his mouth turned to the side and gasping. Things would've been better with another person.

He rose, hand sticky and his hair mussed from sleeping, making his way to the bathroom. A shower, and then what? More of chasing Grimmjow around, just to be mocked for laying everything out, an easy mark for the arrancar to use against him? Or more of being solidly ignored? It seemed pointless. He knew he'd end up feeling even worse if he didn't stop thinking about it, but fuck, what else did he have here? All the things in his mind involved Grimmjow, and Ichigo had no patience for anything else.


Ichigo knew he should just forget everything, but there weren't enough distractions in all of Hueco Mundo to make him do so. On one hand, there was the obvious: he wanted Grimmjow. Very simply and very viscerally; like the good fight they still hadn't had, Ichigo being deprived of his power as he was. He couldn't escape the draw he felt towards the arrancar, though he dearly wanted to. Ichigo hated being held in the thrall of such base emotions.

There was also the truth, though perhaps less obvious: Grimmjow wanted him. He wanted Ichigo; he did, Ichigo was sure of it, just as sure as he was of his own desires. Why else this elaborate capturing in the first place? It wasn't for Aizen's benefit, and it wasn't for anyone else's—it was a pure victory for the Espada, but Ichigo simply couldn't understand things without a better explanation for it.

Maybe he was being too simplistic, he thought sullenly. Grimmjow might have only ever wanted him for a trophy to hang on his wall, and nothing else. He glared darkly as he watched Grimmjow march across a causeway to see Aizen, shoulders thrown back and every inch of the other man screaming of arrogance.

Such things shouldn't have attracted Ichigo. He worried that they did, but they did; his stomach clenched so tight it hurt when he saw Grimmjow, and it wasn't for any desire to beat or best him. To want so much and so easily—Ichigo was ashamed of himself for swaying like this, as if all Grimmjow'd had to do from the beginning was show him kindness as he had in the desert. Ichigo hated how much that mattered to him, but it was the first time he'd begun to consider the arrancar as more of a person than an enemy. Ichigo almost wished that it'd never happened, so he could keep his priorities in order and not get tied up, imagining Grimmjow more friend than adversary.

He knew he didn't just want Grimmjow: he needed him—as a tool, as an escape. The arrancar owned him, but Ichigo owned a part of Grimmjow in return, if he could use it. If he could turn Grimmjow's attention away from Aizen, to Ichigo alone; he knew he could make the Espada help him. Perhaps unwittingly, but Ichigo didn't need much, just a way out and he would sacrifice everything for that opportunity, even his pride—what was left of it.

It built in him angrily, waiting for Grimmjow to provoke him as he always did. Ichigo was so tense and irritable that the simple release of a fight would've been welcome. But Grimmjow avoided him, had been avoiding him ever since Ichigo kissed him. Maybe he should've realized that for what it meant, but Ichigo didn't want to think he was wrong.

He ended up tight like a broken watch, pacing around his room when he wasn't walking the corridors of Las Noches aimlessly. His irritation was compounded by the fact that no one else would lay a finger on him for fear of facing Grimmjow. He wanted to dare them to do it; dare Grimmjow to take him on, but the other man was absent. Nel simply laid a hand against his shoulders when Ichigo came raging to her. She sighed slightly as though he was making a huge deal out of nothing, and it made Ichigo feel even worse. He wasn't about to tell her why it mattered so much; Ichigo wasn't sure he could make it through that conversation without burning up from embarrassment.

Nothing was as bad as being ignored. It made Ichigo want to dismiss the other man as well, as if facing him would be giving in. But fuck that, Grimmjow could ignore him all he wanted to; it was Ichigo's choice if he let himself be ignored.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Ichigo demanded, once he'd found Grimmjow.

The arrancar was lazing against a red-pillared wall, and glanced up at him as though Ichigo were a nuisance. "What the fuck's your problem?"

"You're avoiding me," Ichigo said. "Why? I need to know, Grimmjow."

"Because you're a whiny piece of shit, why else?"

Ichigo spluttered, unduly annoyed and unable to deal with it. "Tell me the fucking truth!"

He advanced on Grimmjow, and the arrancar straightened, pushing off with his shoulders from where he rested.

"You say I belong to you, in every way but—but just not like this?" He glared into Grimmjow's narrowed eyes. "What d'you want from me, Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow tipped his head to the side as though he were thinking very deeply. "Huh, let's see: I want to fight you. And I want to beat you, every time, just this easily." He snatched a handful of Ichigo's shirt and spun him, slamming his back against the rock wall. "Heh. Now wasn't that fun?"

Ichigo coughed as his breath rasped back into his lungs. Grimmjow was smirking irritably, like it was all a game.

"If you're just not interested, I swear I'll fuck off," Ichigo spat, and Grimmjow's expression seemed to falter.

"Yeah, why don't you fuck off," the arrancar growled, his face snarling.

"Because I don't think you want me to."

"And you'd know what I want now, is that right?"

"Then what do you want?" Ichigo snapped, snatching the hand near his throat. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.

"I already told you, or are you that fucking dense?" He pushed Ichigo away angrily. "Fuck off! I don't have time for whatever shit you're trying to pull—"

"And what am I trying to pull, then?"

Grimmjow turned back to him, posture relaxed and easy. It was intoxicating. "You're trying to loop me in, I know it. And after that, you're gonna get me attached, ain't ya?"

He took a stride towards Ichigo, and slammed both hands on either side of his head. Ichigo flinched involuntarily.

"Well, guess fucking what, you little piece of shit? I ain't into that. Not that you ain't nice to look at—" and his hips snapped up against Ichigo's, a momentary contact—"But 'cause I like my prey running and scared, not whimpering and bending at my feet. Wouldn't've taken you if that were the case, eh? I like things that fight back, not give themselves up."

"That's not what this is about, dumbass!" Ichigo snapped. He stuck his face right back into Grimmjow's invasive, narrow sneer. "And I wouldn't bend over for you, even if you tried to make me." He turned his head to the side, teeth bared. "But I would if I wanted to."

Grimmjow's face was clenched and he took a quick breath, air hissing in his mouth as though he was tasting the scent around Ichigo. "That supposed to win me over, that you'd say yes?" His smile turned mean. "Think I'd give a fuck what you'd say anyway? Maybe I'd like you more if you didn't want it. You always smell so sweet when you're trembling with fear; would you still want it, if that's how I like it?"

"Then do something, I don't give a fuck! If you've thought about it, act on it!" Ichigo's hands darted out and caught Grimmjow's stomach, bare by virtue of his jacket. "I've thought it. I can't believe you wouldn't have."

Grimmjow twisted out of his grasp, still sneering. "This is a real nice try, shinigami, I'd almost take you up on it. But I don't have much interest in prey that just gives itself up. I like to take what's mine." His hand snapped out to catch Ichigo's throat. His hand clenched, and it raised Ichigo up, by his neck. "And you are mine. You just think by doing this I'll forget it, but no fucking way."

Ichigo choked and gasped; Grimmjow's fingers were digging deeply into his skin; windpipe and trachea; Ichigo could feel his pulse pounding under the other man's fingers from where they clutched at his veins. He couldn't form words, and then Grimmjow, giving him a look of disgust, tossed him to the side. Ichigo fell heavily, dragging air back into his lungs while his still-bruised ribs whined at the fresh insult.

"You're pitiful," Grimmjow spat. "Think I'd want something like you? Fuck off. And I mean it this time."

He turned, marching away with his hands stiff at his sides, and Ichigo only watched him go. He staggered onto his feet and considered rushing the other man, but thought better of it—he was still injured, deeply; on every level. He could feel, and remember, the throw Gimmjow had at him that'd bruised his already abused ribcage-and all because of some stupid thing. Ever one of his injuries were Grimmjow's fault inherently, and Ichigo would be stupid to forget it. He let his shoulders sag against the wall at his back, where Grimmjow had been resting originally.

Maybe Ichigo was wrong. Maybe he just couldn't admit to it. Rejection settled like a heavy stone in his stomach—now Grimmjow had something new and deeply personal to hurt him with. At least it would serve as decent motivation for Ichigo to get himself out of here.


Okay! I would once again like to thank my beta readers, B and Q for editing this chapter.

I appreciate everyone who reads and reviews, they really make my day :)