Okay, here is another chapter \o/ Hoping to make up for the last long wait with a quick update (and rhyme along the way, apparently). Thanks to Q and B for reading and beta'ing.


Grimmjow had been enjoying a real nice dream, full of skin and the smell of Kurosaki's anger; it warmed him like a smoldering cinder. And in Grimmjow's dream, he was winning as always: Kurosaki broke under his hands like a wave crashing on rocks as Grimmjow pounced upon him, his jaws seeking the shinigami's life as they sank into his tender neck.

The taste of Ichigo's blood filled up the dusty corners of Grimmjow's mind like a dopey coma, right before some asshole started jostling his shoulder. He ignored it as best he could, before snatching the offending appendage—which turned out to be a foot—and shoving it away with as much force as he could gather under the circumstances.

"Fuck—off—" The foot was back, and this time it kicked him sharply in the head. "Ow!"

"Wake up, you lazy bastard!"

Fuck, that voice was pitched just too goddamn high for what Grimmjow's fuzzy mind could tolerate. He jerked upright, momentarily disoriented, before glaring at whoever'd disturbed him—it was Neliel, casting a big, cold shadow right across Grimmjow's napping spot. She was staring at him crossly, hands on her hips and with an expression that promised a scolding.

"You gotta problem?" he snapped.

"It speaks volumes that you still have to ask."

"Well, move. You're blocking my sun," Grimmjow said, flopping back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Must be nice to just sit around, sleeping all day."

"Oh, blow me."

"You should go to Ichigo if that's what you're after," she said, giggling like she knew a secret.

He peeked a look from under his forearm to find her grinning. Little smartass. "Do you want something? Cause I'm pretty busy."

"What is with the two of you right now? You're at it worse than cats and dogs!"

"So?" Grimmjow honestly didn't see a problem.

"So stop jerking him around!"

Grimmjow raised himself up so he was sitting cross-legged, and jabbed an accusatory finger at Nel, "I am not jerking him around, he's the little fucker who's jerking me around!" Grimmjow scowled at her. "And quit acting like his goddamn mom."

"Someone has to look out for him, and I damn well know better than to expect that from you," she said, her tone exasperated.

"That's it, isn't it? He went crying to you just like a little bitch—"

To his surprise, she darted forward and slapped him across the face. Grimmjow blinked, momentarily stunned. He was gonna have a bruise from that.

"Listen to me, Grimmjow, I don't know what games you're playing with him but it's really messing him up. The two of you were acting fine not a week ago!"

"Define 'fine'," Grimmjow sneered. "And then tell me what we're doing different. His head's getting a little too big, so I'm smacking him back into place, same as always."

"You're avoiding him for no good reason—"

"Oh, he really did tattle to you, didn't he—"

Nel kicked him, a warning to shut up. "You're avoiding him and for what, so you can laze around all day?"

Grimmjow yawned hugely in response. He hadn't been avoiding the little brat; Grimmjow wasn't a pussy. He'd been keeping his distance ever since their last fight, because he didn't go chasing after anything, or anyone. Besides, it was difficult to concentrate with the little fucker watching him with such heated glares, it was irritating. Kurosaki's eyes promised many things; for Grimmjow, they promised that Ichigo was soon to be on the receiving end of a very deserved asskicking. Grimmjow knew he was being immature, but that didn't exactly bother him. In this situation, being the immature one gave him all the power, which wasn't something Grimmjow would relinquish easily.

Grimmjow knew what the little bastard was up to: Kurosaki was trying to distract him, as if by using his body and sultry looks now and then Grimmjow would waver. It was a very obvious scheme that Grimmjow might not've had any problem with being a part of; he hadn't been lying about wanting to fuck the little bastard. But Grimmjow'd come to realize that if he gave in easily, what was given with one hand would take away with the other what Grimmjow already had—the little prick's hate and fire. Grimmjow wasn't about to throw something like that away so easily, not when he'd worked so hard to get it in the first place. Giving the shinigami what he wanted without a fight would put them too close to an even keel—and Grimmjow wasn't about to let go of his mastery over the other man so easily.

"I got my reasons," Grimmjow finally muttered, dismissively. "You oughta be more worried that he's sad I'm neglecting him."

"He just wants a friend, you're the closest thing he's got here."

"Che, I don't wanna be his friend. Ever think of that?" Grimmjow noticed how Nel had conspicuously left herself out of that equation. She didn't just want Ichigo to feel better, she wanted to hover after the both of them and make sure they played nice. Kurosaki didn't want a friend, he wanted someone to use, and that someone sure as hell wasn't about to be Grimmjow.

Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders, affirming his own internal conclusions. He glared at Nel, "We ain't friends, him and me, because I like it this way. I want his hate."

Nel nearly stomped her foot in aggravated frustration. "Fine! But know this, Grimmjow, I will challenge you for him if you don't knock off this avoidance routine."

"You'll challenge me?" Grimmjow jumped to his feet, standing in a position he could easily lunge at her from.

Nel's smile was far from sincere. "In a heartbeat."

"Don't think you can take me, girly, it's been a long time since you were Espada," Grimmjow snarled. "And he's mine, fair's fair. You can't challenge someone for their fraccion."

"He's not fraccion so that doesn't apply. And why do you care, anyway, with the way you treat him?"

"Fuck, stop lecturing me," Grimmjow said, and spat on the ground. "It's none of your business what I do with my own things. You'll be so fucking sorry if you try to stick your nose into it."

Nel turned, in resignation it seemed, as though she was giving up on him. "He's not yours. You just beat him—once. The faster you realize that the better off you'll be."

Grimmjow snorted derisively in response.

"You don't understand him at all. He isn't a creature, Grimmjow. You can't pretend to own him." She sighed and Grimmjow turned away. He heard her leave with a swish of clothing and sank back to his previous napping position.

Fuck Nel. She just always had to stick her big, red-striped nose into everything.

As if she understood Kurosaki at all; Grimmjow knew what was at the heart of him more than anyone. Ichigo was narrow and deadly; he had a deceptively fragile body that Grimmjow just loved breaking. He wasn't about to give that up, not for anything; not even for what the shinigami had proposed. Some things weren't worth the trouble.

Grimmjow flopped down, curled on his side and tried to remember what he'd been dreaming of before Nel disturbed him. Kurosaki. Always that little fucking prick. He'd been killing the shinigami in his dreams and Grimmjow closed his eyes, eager to return to such normalcy.


"Beast," Kurosaki said.

His hands were on Grimmjow's chest, fingers splayed, and the weight of his thin frame was crushing Grimmjow against the floor. He saw the muscles of Kurosaki's stomach shiver, and then Ichigo was lowering his face down, down; against Grimmjow's cheek, before hissing into his ear, "That's all that you are. Animal."

"Nnngh," Grimmjow responded; he felt as though it was quite profound, given the situation. His hands slid over Kurosaki's naked hips, thumbs slipping into the deep grooves there as the shinigami moved above him.

Kurosaki's lips were parted, his face hovering over Grimmjow's and he could see inside, the slick pink of the shinigami's wet tongue—the same way Grimmjow was inside; inside him and moving. He groaned and gripped at the little bastard, and Kurosaki gasped, and just the feel of him all around—

"Hate you," Ichigo whispered, lips brushing across Grimmjow's as he said it, and Grimmjow answered with a hard thrust, making Kurosaki shudder, "Ah-hh—"

—and that was when Grimmjow awoke, his eyes snapping open and his stomach clenching. Fuck, he was hard; really hard. This whole situation had started out badly, and was getting worse, by the hour. If Grimmjow couldn't enjoy a solid afternoon of napping, the world really was turning on its ear.

Grimmjow rolled onto his side, ignoring his insistent erection and instead channeling all of his frustration to anger and resentment. This was all Kurosaki's fault. Grimmjow could feel his steely resolve crumbling, and it was frightening. He'd never wanted someone quite this badly, but that was the way Kurosaki had always been—the one opponent he couldn't let go, or lose to, no matter what the cost. Now that Grimmjow wanted him so deeply it was almost paralyzing, he'd begun to wonder if maybe this was just a new level to that: of not just beating him, but having him, completely.

Grimmjow would make the little prick moan; he'd make Kurosaki whine and beg and scratch against him, writhing and wanting and all Grimmjow had to do was give it to him, over and over again—he wanted to take Kurosaki entirely, and why not? Ichigo belonged to him, they'd established that already.

Grimmjow clenched his eyes, his brows creasing. This just wasn't the way things were supposed to be. He knew the little shit was up to something with this, but couldn't Grimmjow use back, just the same? Grimmjow could chase after him; it'd be like in a battle when the shinigami got in over his head, realizing he'd bitten off more than he could handle. The scared look on the brat's face just before he ran

It'd be beautiful, like the best fight they ever shared; he'd beaten Ichigo before, and now he wanted to see the fucker's face twist up in pain and bone-deep pleasure as Grimmjow pounded into him. He wanted to see Ichigo's scowling lips wrapped around his cock while Grimmjow's fingers pulled at his hair; he wanted to make Kurosaki come apart, and then push his legs out of the way while Grimmjow's cock drove deeply into him. Kurosaki's mouth would be wide open, insults flying, but it wouldn't take long before Grimmjow had him crying his name

Grimmjow bit his lip. This train of thought was not exactly helping with the tightness in his pants. This simply would not do. Grimmjow wasn't about to just hand over to Ichigo what he wanted, not without a fight.

Grimmjow grunted, shoving himself to his feet; he'd been napping on the top of a pillar out in the open of Las Noches's dome, the closest thing to real sunlight he could get. He knew what he'd have to do to resolve this situation—Grimmjow always took the easiest path, though in this case, it wasn't without a certain twist of regret. He knew it was for the best, but—he was going to have to kill Ichigo.

Things couldn't continue like they were, it drew his own perilous control of the shinigami too close to an arrangement of equality, and that wouldn't work. It wouldn't reflect well on his rank or his power, especially when he knew Kurosaki had ulterior motives. Acting on it would only reaffirm a hold the other man had over him.

It would've been like welcoming an assassin in by the front door: Grimmjow would wind up dead with a smile on his face, but dead all the same.

Grimmjow let his pesquisa spread out from where he stood, searching until he found the little bastard—the shinigami was crawling around with Neliel; Grimmjow could find him easy, drag him out for a fight and then end it.

Grimmjow couldn't stand things the way they were. It was too good and too awful; walking along a razor-edge and if he slipped, he'd shave himself in half. He wanted Kurosaki, always, but not like this. Not when it could possibly destroy him. He'd kill the little fucker first, and Ichigo had no one but himself to blame.


Fundamentally, I believe the underlying message here is that GRIMMJOW IS A MORON :D: