RL is kicking my ass as usual. Thanks for waiting!
Everything was becoming a dreamy blur to Ichigo. Dazed and disoriented from giddiness, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the older man's lap as they settled down on the floor. He clung to Grimmjow, straddling the man's hips, fingers entwined in Grimmjow's t-shirt as the man leaned back against the side of the bed.
Ichigo let his eyes slide close as he felt Grimmjow's hand slip underneath the hem of his t-shirt. The hot, calloused palm ghosted over Ichigo's stomach before circling around to caress the small of his back, leaving a trail of raging inferno in its wake.
"Is this okay?" murmured Grimmjow.
Ichigo nodded wordlessly, his forehead brushing against the older man's bangs. His throat felt dry and tight, as though he hadn't had anything to drink for years. His heart pounded erratically like it was going to burst out of his chest, and when Grimmjow's hand dipped into his waistband, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust from excitement alone.
This was beyond any of the dreams he'd had; so much more thrilling, so much more arousing that it was actually beginning to hurt. He had never been so hard before; his length throbbing and straining within the confines of his pants, just begging to be touched.
He stifled a groan as Grimmjow shifted, causing him to slide down; their bodies now so close that he could feel the growing bulge between Grimmjow's legs. Instinctively, Ichigo bucked his hips, rubbing their clothed erection together and seeking more friction until he was suddenly restrained by a pair of strong arms.
"Not like this," Grimmjow said, his deep voice somehow managing to sound rough and sensual at the same time.
Ichigo panted, nearly whining when Grimmjow pushed him away slightly to reach his fly. He dug his fingernails into Grimmjow's shoulders as his zipper was tugged down - inch after agonizing inch until it was finally undone. He bit back a hiss as the older man ran his knuckles along his swollen length through his thin boxers; teasing him, torturing him while he sat trembling on Grimmjow's thighs.
As Ichigo let slip a muffled moan, Grimmjow tightened his grip on his hip and leaned into him. "You're so fucking sensitive," the older man growled into his ear. Ichigo shuddered.
"I've never..." he whispered shakily. Nobody has ever touched me like this, he wanted to say, but the words simply refused to budge from his throat.
Even so, the message was apparently clear enough, because Grimmjow immediately went still beneath him. Then, like a man who suddenly realized that he was starving, Grimmjow caught a handful of Ichigo's hair and yanked him down for a deep, fiery kiss. Ichigo jerked as sharp teeth grazed his skin, but he recovered quickly, not wanting to be completely overpowered by the older man. He pushed past Grimmjow's parted lips and sucked hungrily on the man's probing tongue, his breath becoming harsher, his blood boiling, roaring in his ears as urgency escalated. His body moved on its own accord, pressing and rocking against Grimmjow's arousal, guided purely by instinct.
Ichigo was so immersed in the fight for dominance, so blissfully unaware of his surroundings that he didn't even realize that his boxers had been pulled down and that he was free, so when his cock was suddenly engulfed in Grimmjow's searing hot fist, he was so surprised that he bit into Grimmjow's lower lip. The older man grunted in pain but didn't stop; his hand alternating between light, gentle stroking and hard tugging movements; twisting, squeezing until Ichigo begged him to stop.
"I can't-" Ichigo gasped, his features scrunched up in a mixture of pleasure and panic as he struggled to keep his climax at bay. He was so close - too close. He didn't want to do this alone. He pushed Grimmjow's hands aside and fumbled with the man's zipper, his trembling fingers slipping and missing their target multiple times before finally succeeding.
The sight that greeted him had him gaping in awe for a good five seconds - the first time he got so up close and personal with equipment that wasn't his own. Carefully, tentatively, he reached out to touch it, pleasantly surprised to find that Grimmjow's skin was silky smooth beneath his fingers.
"It's not gonna bite you, you know."
Ichigo lifted his head and scowled at Grimmjow, who was looking at him with a lopsided grin; the man's half-lidded, lust-filled eyes holding more than a hint of amusement. Ichigo opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Grimmjow's hand joined his to wrap around both of them.
"Ungh!" Ichigo cried out, jerking, his nails digging even harder into Grimmjow's shoulders.
This was almost too much, the sensation of being held so tightly by the man he had wanted for months, feeling his arousal throbbing, burning hot against Grimmjow's as the man continued to trap them both in his fist, hand pumping and stroking at a steady pace. Ichigo could barely keep his eyes open, yet he couldn't bear to look away from Grimmjow's face. He wanted to savor every moment - every drop of sweat that ran down the man's face, every frown, every moan that fell from those slightly-parted lips.
As he continued to watch, Grimmjow leaned forward and pulled him in for another deep, smothering kiss before peppering brief pecks along Ichigo's jawline. Ichigo let out a soft mewl when the exploring mouth moved down to his neck, licking and nipping at the delicate skin there, and then, as another whispered groan was wrenched from Ichigo's throat, it went back up to his lips. There, Grimmjow's tongue mimicked his hand movements, delving in and out between Ichigo's lips at the same quickening pace. Eyes sliding closed once more, Ichigo moaned helplessly into Grimmjow's mouth. He felt his own breath becoming more and more ragged, and then just as he thought his eyes were going to roll back into his head, an especially hard squeeze finally sent him spiraling over the edge with a strangled sob. For a moment, Ichigo's mind went blank but for one thing: Grimmjow's voice - hoarse and breathless as Ichigo shuddered violently, his release so powerful that he immediately felt exhausted.
Sighing weakly, Ichigo slumped forward and rested his forehead against Grimmjow's. He could tell that the older man was also nearing his own peak, his movements becoming erratic, almost frantic. Ichigo swayed along with the bucking of Grimmjow's hips, then, as Ichigo watched with wide, greedy eyes, Grimmjow threw his head back and let out a choked cry, his broad frame going rigid beneath Ichigo.
Ichigo whimpered before he could stop himself. So this was how Grimmjow looked in the throes of passion - eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, teeth clenched tight, hair hanging damp and limp over his forehead - Ichigo commited it all in his memory, every precious second of it before he collapsed onto the man's chest, suddenly too tired to hold himself upright anymore.
"Fuck," Grimmjow groaned into Ichigo's hair.
He didn't think it was possible for something so simple to feel so intense, and he was hard pressed to believe there could anything better than this. God, he daren't even imagine what it would feel like when - if - they went all the way.
Running his fingers through Ichigo's bright orange locks, Grimmjow took in a deep breath, taking in the boy's comforting scent. Ichigo was still panting lightly, his breath warm against Grimmjow's skin even through his t-shirt.
"You okay?" Grimmjow asked, wrapping his other arm around Ichigo's waist.
Ichigo nodded and mumbled, "I'm sleepy."
Grimmjow chuckled. "Not before we shower, come on."
He spent the next few minutes wrestling with Ichigo to get the boy back on his feet and into the bathroom, where he stripped the remaining clothing from Ichigo's body. He had to bite back a moan when the boy's lean form and well-defined abdomen came into view. Forcing himself to look away, Grimmjow got out of his own clothes and pulled Ichigo into the shower stall with him.
Don't scare the kid...don't scare the kid...
His thoughts were cut off when Ichigo's lips suddenly descended on his. The kiss was a little clumsy at first, Ichigo's fatigue showing, and then it picked up. The spray of near-scalding water seemed to have revived the boy, and before Grimmjow knew it, they were both hot and flustered again.
Ichigo's skin was as smooth as it looked, and Grimmjow couldn't stop touching it even if he tried. His hands roamed freely, drawing circles on Ichigo's hips and massaging the muscles beneath the taut skin. When Ichigo started to moan loudly, Grimmjow silenced him with another kiss.
"Shhh," he murmured. Their voice bounced right off the tiled walls, filling the tiny space with a hollow echo, sounding much louder than they had been in the room.
Ichigo stuck out his tongue sheepishly and clamped a palm over his mouth.
"Remember, whatever you do, don't make a sound," Grimmjow warned in a whisper, a grin tugging on his lips as something evil formed in his head.
As Ichigo nodded, Grimmjow guided the boy to stand against the wall, his hands sliding down the sides of Ichigo's torso before coming to a stop on his hips. Then, with a wide, wicked smirk, Grimmjow dropped slowly into a crouch.
Ichigo expected the third degree from his uncle the next day about his outburst at dinner the night before, but it never came. In fact, the only time he saw his uncle during the day was when the man hurried by in a beeline for his office, the chordless phone wedged snugly between his jaw and shoulder.
Of course, good things never lasted.
When dinner time rolled along, Uncle Kisuke finally made an appearance, looking uncharacteristically somber. He seemed lost in his own world, brows knitted together in a frown that usually meant he was trying to solve a particularly difficult problem. Juushirou, too, seemed especially quiet. All in all, it was another awkward, silent dinner at which Tessai was the only one eating with gusto.
And it was when Ichigo was helping his uncle with the dishes that the man completely ruined his good mood.
Ichigo had been grinning to himself like an idiot, his head filled with images of Grimmjow on his knees in front of him and wondering what might be in store for him later that night. Then, a cough cut through his less-than-innocent thoughts, and Ichigo looked up to see his uncle peering at him curiously, one arm extended to take the stack of dirty dishes from Ichigo.
"Earth to Ichigo?" Uncle Kisuke asked with a raised eyebrow, his voice light-hearted even though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Ichigo hastily handed over the dishes, and was just about to go back to the dining table to gather the leftover silverware when his wrist was suddenly seized by his uncle. He yelped in surprise and struggled, but Uncle Kisuke held him in a vice; the already strained smile gone from the man's face.
"Is that what I think it is?"
Ichigo followed his uncle's gaze and felt himself blush fiercely as he realized the source of his uncle's question, his free arm flying unconsciously to his neck to hide the marks that Grimmjow had so thoughtfully left behind last night.
"Ichigo, what did I-" Uncle Kisuke began.
Ichigo bristled immediately at the man's patronizing tone. "Yes, it is what you think it is," he said flatly before his uncle could finish his admonishment, then he straightened to his full height and met the older man's eyes. "You can't stop me," he ground out. "If you can't accept it, then I'll leave. I'll go home with Grimmjow and-"
"Don't be stupid," Uncle Kisuke said curtly. "I'm not going to kick you out. I was hoping that you'd to be careful, that's all, but since you refuse to listen to me..." The blonde's eyes softened slightly as he regarded Ichigo fondly. "You will be crushed, Ichigo."
"Why do you have to assume the worst?" Ichigo demanded, anger welling up in his chest.
A stretch of tense silence followed as his uncle continued to look at him; the man's eyes stormy as though he was fighting some inner battle. At any other time, Ichigo would've asked if his uncle was alright, but now, he was simply too frustrated to care.
"Have you ever considered that the man could be involved in something dangerous? That you might get hurt because of him?" Uncle Kisuke asked.
Ichigo stared at his uncle, surprised at the seriousness of the man's tone. In the years that Ichigo had known the man, he had never seen this side of him, and if Ichigo was honest with himself, it was rather disturbing. It doused the fire in his chest just slightly, but it didn't stop him from standing his ground.
"I trust my own judgement, but if that's how it's destined to be, then so be it," he said stubbornly.
The last thing Ichigo heard when he turned his back to his uncle and stormed away from the kitchen was a defeated sigh.
Guilt. Doubt. Fury. Indignation.
Grimmjow sat on the edge of the bed and stewed silently as those emotions swirled in his stomach.
He shouldn't feel so surprised, he supposed. He'd always known that Urahara Kisuke didn't really like him, but to actually think of him as a threat to Ichigo - he didn't think the blonde shopkeeper would go that far. It hurt, to be honest, to hear that - accidentally as it may; to find out that his host thought of him that way when he hadn't done anything wrong all this time.
Of course he had considered the possibility that he had a shady background. Nobody turned up in the middle of nowhere with mysterious injuries without some kind of unusual explanation, but for the life of him, he just couldn't imagine what could've happened to him. He didn't think of himself as a criminal even though he recognized that he had the potential to be violent. He had a lot of anger, but wasn't that normal for someone in his situation? Who wouldn't become frustrated and irritable like this?
Now, more than ever, he realized with shocking clarity that Ichigo was the only thing that kept him sane amidst this nightmare. The boy had been here for him for as long as he could remember - literally - ever since he opened his eyes to find himself in a foreign place, all alone. And Ichigo had trusted him, accepted him without question. Ichigo had welcomed him, not just into his life but into his heart.
Grimmjow couldn't think of anything more frightening than that.
Perhaps Urahara was right to ask Ichigo to be wary. Who knew what could happen to Ichigo? What if Grimmjow woke up one day and found out that he was a wanted man, a murderer? What would Ichigo do then? Yet, the very thought of giving Ichigo up now made him nauseous. He hated himself for being so weak, so selfish. The right thing to do for someone like him would be to walk away while he still could; protect the boy from himself.
But...god, he couldn't leave, not when he had just realized how important Ichigo was to him.
"You heard."
Startled, Grimmjow lifted his head to find Ichigo standing at the doorway. The boy shut the door behind him and padded over to sit next to Grimmjow.
"I'm sorry," Ichigo muttered. "The old fart is just overreacting as usual. Don't take it personally."
Grimmjow couldn't help but chuckle. "How else am I supposed to take it?"
Ichigo scowled. "I'm serious, don't-"
The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a loud, booming crack that sounded almost like a clap of thunder.
Except, Grimmjow knew it wasn't thunder. He hadn't the slightest clue how he knew, but he knew without a doubt that the sound was from a shotgun.
...
To be continued...
