Omg, it's an update! Finally! I want to apologize for taking so long in getting this chapter up. I had it all ready to go, and at the last minute decided I wasn't happy with it :( So then it was just a long slog in getting things in order, and as such, this posted draft/chapter/thingie hasn't been beta'd, so any mistakes you see are my own fault (though I would like to thank my betas, B and Q, for putting up with my ~whims~).

I hope you enjoy this chapter and find it worth the long wait. I'll do my best to update quicker next time :)


Kurosaki was laid out on a flat slab of some destroyed piece of Las Noches, sunning himself like a lazy cat.

Grimmjow'd had his eye on the little bastard for a while, when the shinigami was nattering on with Neliel about fuck knew what—it was annoying, having her around. Grimmjow liked it better when Ichigo was isolated; the little prick always had such a big goddamn heart for all his worthless friends, and Grimmjow thought he'd solved that problem. Turned out, the asshole was more resourceful than Grimmjow had imagined, and managed to always find someone to be pals with.

It was irritating, but what was Grimmjow gonna do about it? Kicking Nel's ass would definitely put him on Aizen's bad side; it would probably take down most of the remains of Las Noches in the process. And he wasn't Nnoitra, after all; Grimmjow liked the people he beat to know who'd beaten them. So he suffered in aggrieved silence until the bitch took off, leaving Kurosaki the way he should've been in the first place: alone, with only Grimmjow's watchful eye on his reclined form.

The little bastard's resourcefulness in all areas was doubly irritating—getting cozy with Nel was one thing, but now the fucker was down to using decidedly underhanded tactics against him. As if Grimmjow was stupid enough to fall for such things. He sneered for his own benefit, high above the other man in one of the taller towers left; Kurosaki had one hand flopped over his eyes to block out the false-sunlight of the dome, though the warmth of it seemed enough to draw out a sweat on his chest and stomach, bared by the brat's unbuttoned uniform. It made the skin on Grimmjow's spine itch, even though the shadowed alcove he was perched in was cool. He shifted and felt his jacket cling uncomfortably; Kurosaki just had to fucking ruin everything.

Though if Grimmjow was quite honest about things, he wasn't entirely upset—aside from the fact that he truly did not appreciate the way his body was being swayed by the shinigami's lean form; ever since the little prick had made a move on him, Grimmjow's mind was unable to see things any differently. It led to an entirely new set of rules between them, and Grimmjow wasn't entirely opposed. He'd beat the little fucker in this, just as easily as Grimmjow could beat the shinigami in a fight; he just needed to be patient, which wasn't particularly one of Grimmjow's strong suits. Kurosaki already seemed stirred up and restless, the same way Grimmjow felt, but his one advantage was that the shinigami didn't know just how deeply interested Grimmjow was in anything he had to offer.

The shinigami was already practically begging him for a good fuck; now Grimmjow only had to wait until Kurosaki actually did. Then things would be restored to their normal order, with Grimmjow toying with the other man in the palm of his hand, but he'd be damned if the brat led him around by his dick. Grimmjow didn't follow anyone, much less Ichigo. Grimmjow would've figured things out on his own, probably; would've enjoyed it twice as much that way, without Kurosaki ruining things by making the first move.

That was the part Grimmjow hated the most. He fucking hated it when someone got the drop on him. He didn't like how unprepared he was for it when the shinigami kissed him—and Grimmjow knew how to kiss, how to tease with his tongue and teeth, and how to leave someone breathless—but all he'd managed at the time was to gape soundlessly like a fucking moron while the brat filled up Grimmjow's senses with the sweet taste of human. Granted, Kurosaki's fiery tongue was more useful like that than when he was spitting insults, which was more the speed Grimmjow was comfortable with.

Grimmjow could feel heat gathering between his shoulder blades, and in the center of his chest. Fuck, he wanted that again; wanted it real fucking bad. He couldn't stand the way the shinigami made him feel—needy and helpless; Grimmjow could kill the little bastard for doing this to him.

Besides, Grimmjow knew that if the lines blurred between them, making them less enemies and more…whatever was left over, things just wouldn't be the same as they were now. He liked the way things were, having Ichigo running scared, owning the shinigami's life in every way. He liked that Ichigo still fought him at every turn, a good challenge that would keep Grimmjow entertained for ages. Force and strength were only worth as much as the resistance they were pitted against, and Grimmjow wanted to make sure that when Kurosaki finally yielded to him, it would be because Grimmjow made him do so.

But Grimmjow could only tolerate watching and waiting in small dosages, especially when the shinigami was laid out before him, oblivious and vulnerable. Grimmjow leapt from his observation point, falling several stories to land heavily on the ground. The noise made Kurosaki jump, and Grimmjow smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets before sauntering over to where the other man lay.

Ichigo glared at him as he approached, buttoning his shirt with one hand; that was a pity. Grimmjow had returned the brat's zanpakutou to Aizen once they'd returned from the desert, and he was looking forward to a nice brawl—plenty of skin on sweaty skin, and the feel of Ichigo's muscles as they buckled beneath his fists. No swords between them; they were unnecessary.

"What d'you want?" Kurosaki grumbled.

"I'm bored," Grimmjow shrugged, eager smile not leaving his face.

"That's never good," the brat said with a roll of his eyes; as though he was bored himself. Grimmjow knew an easy way to fix that.

"So you're finally catching on, yeah? Not as thick as you act, then."

"Funny, coming from you. You've been hiding from me for days, Grimmjow. What changed?"

"Nothing changed," Grimmjow answered. "I just haven't kicked your ass for a while, I guess I missed it." His eyes narrowed, "And I don't hide; I ain't you."

Kurosaki matched him with a glare, "Do me a favor, will you? Fuck off."

Something leapt in Grimmjow's empty belly, and he followed the instinct using sonido to pounce on the shinigami, grabbing two fistfuls of his uniform and dragging him off his seat. He slammed Kurosaki up against the side of the stone slab, grinning jaggedly, "I don't owe you any favors, brat. But you sure owe me, dontcha?"

"What the fuck're you talking about?" Kurosaki hissed breath between his teeth, countering Grimmjow's grapple even while pinned. Grimmjow had the shinigami's shoulders square against the stone behind him, their faces equal and leaving Ichigo's legs dangling helplessly.

"A fight, anytime I want one," Grimmjow purred. "You don't ever get to take that back, not ever. I'm here to collect."

"Is that right?" Kurosaki cocked his head to the side, considering-a moment before he kicked Grimmjow quite solidly in the knee.

It was enough to break Grimmjow's hold, and he cursed, staggering for a moment. He probably should've expected that; the shinigami without a sword was always deceptively powerless. Kurosaki wasn't a bad hand at fighting weaponless, fast and sleek; he managed to duck under Grimmjow's whipping arms and slam a narrow fist right into Grimmjow's midsection, winding him.

Grimmjow jumped away, stumbling slightly but laughing, "You're awful serious today!"

"You've given me plenty of reasons to be, recently," Ichigo snapped.

"Now why's that, huh?"

"I don't appreciate being fucked around with, asshole."

Grimmjow giggled, "And here I thought you were a glutton for that kinda shit. You open yourself up to it so easy, every time."

"Fuck you!" Kurosaki jumped at him, but Grimmjow danced out of his reach; the brat was just so easy to rile up. And now Grimmjow had twice as many ways of doing it. Ichigo was an idiot, always leaving himself open for attacks, one way or another—mainly because he still considered Grimmjow human, when Grimmjow was anything but. He wanted to smear the little shit's face in that, remind him who had the power and that any foolish weaknesses he showed would be used against him in turn. Then maybe—after the kid learned a lesson, taught by Grimmjow's fists—he'd give Ichigo what he seemed to want so badly.

He looped a hand around Ichigo's neck, spinning his body until his back was pressed to Grimmjow's chest. He could smell the brat's reiatsu, sharp and angry, and Grimmjow's stomach flipped in a way that reminded him of hunger. "Bet you like this, don't you?" he said, against Ichigo's bare flesh. "Losing. It's all you're ever good at."

Kurosaki thrashed wildly before kicking one leg between Grimmjow's feet and pitching him off balance. The shinigami used the arm Grimmjow held him with to throw him to the ground, and Grimmjow rolled, annoyed.

"You're the one who's best at losing badly, shithead," Kurosaki spat, and chased after him with kicking blows. Grimmjow caught one long leg as it streaked towards his face, and the other man staggered but managed to keep his feet.

It was enough time for Grimmjow to get back on his own. "Now why'd you say that? I still haven't lost, brat. Nothing to be ashamed of here."

"Is that what you tell yourself? Somehow I'm not surprised that the thing you're best at is self-delusion." Kurosaki wiped at a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, and Grimmjow fought the visceral urge to clean the redness away with his tongue. And then inside—he could recall the shinigami's taste when his mouth had been pressed against his own, almost innocently, like Kurosaki was asking a question. It was a goddamn shame the fucker had done that, because Grimmjow liked to take things that he wanted, and it wasn't any fun doing that when the person you stole from wanted you to have it.

Grimmjow stood at his full height, the first time he'd been able to since they'd started; it was a little embarrassing, being on his guard every second. But all the same, he wouldn't dismiss it-Grimmjow wasn't about to bow low to anyone but the best, and that was Kurosaki entirely. "Self-delusion?" he sneered, "You really gonna make this all about that, are you?"

Ichigo's expression darkened, and Grimmjow smirked in triumph. "Now, there ain't else much more self-deluded than a shinigami that goes chasin' after his enemy. And not the sorta chasing after that involves running." Grimmjow used an instant and sonido to put himself right in Ichigo's space. He gasped the brat's chin, holding it tight and drawing their faces together, "I know what you're after, eh? And it's real shinigami of you to use it as a weapon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo snarled, an angry flush burning up his face to the point that Grimmjow could feel it, where their skin touched even as Ichigo jerked away.

"I'm just sayin', you shinigami always got it into your heads that your better'n us; gives you an easy superiority when you need to cut us down. I don't accept nothing from one of you without thinkin' of that, and I know you ain't after me just cause of my charms."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint you, but I'm not much of a shinigami; not in their eyes and I don't expect anything better from you," Kurosaki said; his mouth was still bleeding. It was distracting. "What I want is my own problem, though I didn't expect having to fight over it with you."

"Now why's that, then?"

Kurosaki scoffed, "I don't know, maybe because you're always in my space? You're always after me, like I'm prey, except you won't kill me-why not? I'd be able to deal with that more than this." He dragged a hand through his hair, and it stuck up in tiny sweat-soaked spikes. Ichigo glared at him, eyes hard. "I've spent so much time with you that I've realized that I don't hate you, even though I should. I'm tired, Grimmjow. Just tell me what you want-I've told you as much, give me the same courtesy."

"Where's the fun in that?" Grimmjow sneered. "And that's all that you are-prey. Time you remembered, eh?"

Grimmjow was growing hard just thinking of it, and launched himself-Ichigo must've been waiting for that, because he twisted away, blocking as Grimmjow swung at the brat's scowling face. He swept Kurosaki's legs out from under him, sending the shinigami sprawling, but not before Ichigo managed to grab a mitt-full of Grimmjow's jacket, bringing him down as well. Grimmjow landed right on top of him, enjoying the feel of Kurosaki's body as it yielded momentarily. But then Ichigo was at him with hard punches, rolling them in a dizzy spin.

Grimmjow shook his head to clear it; the little fucker was fast when he wanted to be, but not fast enough—Grimmjow wrapped one leg around the shinigami's hips and flipped him onto his back, pinning Ichigo with his own weight and slamming his head into the ground with a dull thud.

Kurosaki winced, grimacing and spitting out a mouthful of sand. "Fucker, that hurt!"

"Hah!" Grimmjow smiled widely, perched over Ichigo's waist with one hand against his chest, holding him down. "You should know by now how fucking stupid it is to encourage me, eh, brat."

"I should know better than to expect honor from you, is more like it!" Kurosaki whipped a fist towards his face, but Grimmjow caught it easily, still snickering. The brat wriggled underneath him, trying to dislodge Grimmjow's weight by bucking his hips—and Grimmjow could feel the shinigami's stiff cock as it dug right into his stomach. His heart took two sudden jumps before it leapt into his throat, choking him, and the only air Grimmjow could get past it was colored with the shinigami's spicy scent.

Then the brat was squirming out from under him, shoving at Grimmjow's hip, "Get off me, you asshole!"

"Stop that!" Grimmjow snapped, and snatched Ichigo's hand. It was too much of a distraction, having this shinigami prone beneath his body and moving like that.

Grimmjow immediately regretted saying anything at all to draw the little fucker's attention to their respective positions, because Kurosaki's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing dangerously. "Stop what, huh?" And he put his face right into Grimmjow's, body lurching forward—and there was his dick again, hard; Grimmjow could feel it throb even through the cloth covering them both. He hissed through his teeth, shoving the other man away as he got to his feet, but Kurosaki followed.

"Stop what, Grimmjow?" Ichigo advanced on him, and Grimmjow took a step back automatically—that wasn't right, and he clenched his fists at his sides, hoping the shinigami would move in even closer so he could cuff the fucker right in the face.

Grimmjow spat to the side, blood and the taste of anger. "Stop being a pain in my ass? Stop ruining all my goddamn fights? I've got a list of a million things you should knock the fuck off, you little shit!"

"I don't believe that for a minute!"

"Oh, don't you now?" Grimmjow sneered. "You think you're that good, that I'd stop knocking you around if you just whored yourself out, is that it?"

A dark red flush burst over the shinigami's face, traveling all the way to the tips of his ears, and Grimmjow knew he'd hit a nerve. "Yeah, that's right," he continued, nasty and mocking. "You always think so much more've yourself than you're worth, y'know that—"

He didn't get much further, because Kurosaki punched him sharply, right in his mouth. Ichigo was shaking with anger. "Say whatever the fuck you need to, Grimmjow, but I know what I felt. You were hard—"

Grimmjow laughed, smearing his mouth red with the back of his hand. "So what, surprised that I get off beating on you? That's nothing new."

"Shut up!" Kurosaki's lips were thin and white. He stabbed a finger into Grimmjow's chest, and even that small touch was enough to make an excited shiver jump up his spine. "I'm sick of being your fucking punching bag. You wanna fight, fine, but you don't get to use this against me. Not when you want the same thing."

"But I don't, see?" Grimmjow sneered. He didn't care if it was a lie—like hell was he gonna let Kurosaki tell him what he wanted.

"Now I know why you tasted so badly," Ichigo spat. "It because that mouth of yours is always stuffed with lies. Bitter, like something I wish I'd never had."

"Wishing ain't gonna take it back, now will it?" Grimmjow smiled widely, glad to have the shinigami so enraged. "You brought this all on yourself, you can't blame me if it gets used against you."

Grimmjow made a swift charge and they traded blows, barehanded. Grimmjow wasn't a liar, despite what Kurosaki said; at his core, he despised the other man, for messing up what should've been a simple fight and twisting it into something else. He'd use Kurosaki's attraction and beat the shinigami with it, if only so the same didn't happen to himself. Grimmjow could turn everything inside him, everything Ichigo thought he knew, into a knife to stab the other man with.

They were in a hard snare when Kurosaki managed to capture his wrist, rolling Grimmjow's strike until his arm was twisted behind his back and the shinigami's foot snapped out hard, slamming into Grimmjow's ankle. It threw him off-balance and he stumbled, hitting the side of a concrete slab with his chest and face, his arm pinned at his back by Kurosaki's steel grip. He thrashed, trying to throw the other man away but only succeeded in grinding the skin off his sternum and face.

"Haha, so you still got a little bit left in you, huh?" Grimmjow laughed as he shifted awkwardly on his splayed feet. He used the wall at his front to anchor himself, clawing at the stone with his free hand, but the shinigami never released his hold; his fingers felt like iron against Grimmjow's skin, digging in to the bone. He hadn't imagined the little shit still had that much strength in his limbs, not after all the time Grimmjow had spent bouncing him off the sand for sport.

"I'm not as helpless as you like to think I am," Kurosaki hissed against his ear, too close; his entire body was too close. Grimmjow could feel the full length of it crushing him against hard rock, the shinigami's breath hot against naked flesh. It made arousal burst inside him instantaneously, like a sudden fever, leaving him dizzy and his muscles weak. He could almost have given up, like this, for what he knew would happen after. He'd stirred the little shit up enough that Ichigo wouldn't stop, he'd beat Grimmjow and then take what Grimmjow knew Kurosaki so desperately wanted-what troubled Grimmjow the most was his slipping grip on how much that bothered him before; he almost wanted to lose. It was humiliating, and he bashed his forehead sharply against concrete.

His vision doubled but his head cleared, and he laughed. It was a high-pitched cackle, slightly hysteric, "Not as helpless? I'll show you how weak you are, more helpless than you ever imagined you could be-" he groaned loudly as the other man's grip wrenched his arm higher; Grimmjow could almost hear it twisting in its socket: a dry, rusty creak. It was going to come undone in a moment, if things continued as they were; just as Grimmjow could come undone so easily-and how the fuck had he let himself get into this situation to begin with? This wasn't how things were supposed to be. It was difficult to think or rationalize everything away when they were pressed together like this; everything Grimmjow hated in himself coming to the surface.

Kurosaki's voice was low, and too loud, close to Grimmjow's ear as he was. "Keep daring me, Grimmjow, and I will. I won't hold back."

"So you've been holding back all this time, eh? Fuckin' tease."

"You fucking piss me off," Ichigo hissed, his voice low and sounding like it was being dragged out of his chest with the last shreds of self-control. Fuck, Grimmjow almost wanted to see what'd really happen if Kurosaki lost it like this. "Is this just some fucking joke of yours to show how goddamn stubborn you can be?"

"What d'you mean by that?" Grimmjow giggled, euphoric and dizzy, pain and endorphins waging a losing battle in his brain.

Kurosaki's mouth, his breath, became even hotter, were such a thing possible-and then the shinigami's mouth was open, against the back of his neck with the slightest hint of teeth; Grimmjow could feel his eyes roll back in their sockets. "I know what you want. It's not hard, because it's what I want. It took me a long time, Grimmjow, to realize it, but we're too similar for anything else. It's why you hate me; you can't admit you enjoy this any more than you can admit to losing-"

Grimmjow didn't like those words, didn't like even more how true they were-so he snapped his head back, sharply; the back of his skull connected with Ichigo's face. That shut the other man up, if only for a moment. Kurosaki's grip faltered and Grimmjow jerked away, driving an elbow into the shinigami's chest and skidding in the sand until they stood facing each other, far enough apart that Grimmjow could gain his breath. Fuck, what was it about this little shit that managed to stir everything in him up so badly? Grimmjow wanted to kill Ichigo for it, if only to ensure that it never happened again. He didn't like being put on his guard, and couldn't afford being made subservient to anyone, least of all the person he'd broken and made a slave to himself.

Ichigo's face was bleeding from a split near his eyebrow, a good look on him that Grimmjow was just aching to replicate. "You gotta lotta funny ideas, shinigami. But that's all they are-ideas. Something you think you know, but no matter how much you try, it's all just in your own mind."

"Is that right?" Kurosaki sucked his bottom lip into his mouth; he spat bloody and thick, before snorting derisively. His face hardened, "Fuck this. I'm not playing your fucking games anymore."

The square of Kurosaki's shoulders as the brat started away drove an icepick of angry desire straight to Grimmjow's center; he wanted to destroy Ichigo. He wanted to beat the little bastard until Kurosaki's mouth filled up with choking blood, until there was no denying who'd won. His eyes would still hold their same defiant fire, but the shinigami would be helpless, and then Grimmjow could have as much as he wanted of the other man with no question of who was truly superior.

"Don't think you can just walk away from this!" Grimmjow snarled, "Coward!"

Ichigo spun on one foot to face him, "Coward? Really? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You're the one leaving before the fight's over," Grimmjow shrugged. "What else'd you call that?"

"I'd call it a bad joke, the last sad attempt in a long line of them from an asshole who doesn't know how to give up gracefully," Kurosaki spat. His eyes were narrowed but there was a flush across his nose, and his lips were whitened with anger. "You know how you always like to rub it in my face, how pathetic I am in this power-crippled fake of a rematch? What a disappointing fight I am? I'm beginning to sympathize. Except you made me this way, Grimmjow. And you're a pitiful disappointment all on your own."

Grimmjow slapped the hand still pressed against his chest away, anger flaring. "Say that again, you little fuck! I dare you."

"I don't have to!" And Ichigo turned sharply, stalking away. Grimmjow's body was singing with tension, aching to chase after him and press that pretty face into the sand until it turned blue. But then Kurosaki shifted, snapping over his shoulder, "It only hurts because it's the truth."

"I never put much stock in that!" Grimmjow's teeth gritted together, tasting like metal. Fuck that little bastard who thought he knew everything. Kurosaki was only pissed because it was the truth—because he was weak and captive, and even this last-ditch effort to leverage some power over Grimmjow was worthless.

Grimmjow's muscles were still tense, hungry for a fight—and for whatever else they could get, his cock was hard and aching from the brief attention it'd had. Grimmjow was annoyed that he couldn't control that; it made him vulnerable and turned the entire situation on its head, making his earlier anticipation burn like acid inside him. Fuck Kurosaki, who still thought enough of himself to pretend to have any control over what happened—Grimmjow was half-tempted to show him how little he'd like it, if he got what he wanted. Grimmjow could fuck the brat raw, until he bled and screamed, and Ichigo would be helpless to stop it.

Grimmjow turned on his heel; as if he needed to do that to keep Kurosaki in his place. Nothing had really changed, he realized—so what if the little shit thought he knew what Grimmjow wanted? It was still his choice to act on it, which Grimmjow most surely wouldn't be doing until Kurosaki came crawling back, in yet another attempt to undermine him. One thing that gave him great confidence was the fact that Kurosaki never gave up, and Grimmjow wouldn't have to do a damn thing in the meantime.


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