He woke to dead weight on his right side. It wasn't confusion, or, pain that gripped him when he flipped back the sheets, but panic.

"Shit." He didn't even bother worrying that he was back in Aizen's bed, he just lifted his white bandaged hand, staring at it but feeling nothing from the elbow down. "What the hell?" He gave it a shake, expecting waves of pain but there was still nothing.

"Don't." A steel grip closed over his wrist, staying further motion. He looked up at the man he hadn't even noticed. "It can't be moved much or you'll increase the damage."

"A-Aizen…" only now did the memory of the deal return to him and what price he still had to pay. For the moment, however, he saw none of that raw lust in the mobster's eyes. Instead, Aizen sat on the bed next to him and drew the sheets the rest of the way down. "As for the rest of you, it shouldn't be moved much either."

Grimmjow looked at the skin Aizen had bared. There were some bad bruises on his ribs but deep stitches along his thigh. He remembered the bullet slicing through him. It was the first time he'd been shot. He moved his leg a bit to test the level of pain. It hurt. So why didn't his hand?

"I can't feel anything," he said, gaze returning to the bandages. "Is it ruined?"

"No, local anesthetic. The surgeon just left about an hour ago. He's on my payroll. He was able to put things to right without taking you to hospital."

"Oh…thank you."

"Of course, we have a deal."

At this, Grimmjow stilled. Aizen just smiled. "Don't worry, I won't make you pay up while you're in this condition. I'll simply enjoy your company in the meantime."

"I'd rather get it over with." What was one more pain on top of these injuries?

"Slow down there, Grimmjow. You owe me six hours."

Six hours. Had he really understood that when he'd cried out for help? But just like last time, he'd had no other choice. Then something occurred to him.

"Why were you there? Were you looking for me?"

Aizen nodded. "I discovered the details of the girl's involvement and Katagiri's intentions. I was concerned you would wind up in the middle of it all, which you seem to have a knack for."

"Yeah but…why do you care?"

At this, Aizen smiled and leaned in. Grimmjow normally would have recoiled but he was captured by those eyes, the way they beheld him like no other ever had. And he really did want to know the answer to his question.

"Because I believe you're worth saving, Grimmjow Jaggerjaques."

Grimmjow felt the brush of lips against his temple but Aizen withdrew, the words still lingering in Grimmjow's mind. He felt the sheets pulled back up around his mostly naked form and a gentle hand push him back down on the bed.

"Rest up."

Grimmjow woke in the middle of the night. He opened his eyes and despite the dark clearly made out the form next to him. He shouldn't have been surprised, it was Aizen's bed after all. The other hadn't taken advantage of him while he was out. The bed was large and a safe distance remained between them. But soon enough they'd be as close as two men could get.

He shut his eyes at the thought. He remembered the unbelievable pain. He'd never thought sex could hurt that much. Aizen had said something about going easier this time, but would it really make a difference? He was no stranger to pain nor a wimp, but he still felt the prick of nervousness. He also didn't want to feel so vulnerable again. To be someone's plaything…how had he let it come to this? So far Aizen seemed to be treating him pretty fair but he was just waiting for the hammer to drop.

He let out a long breath. There was nothing he could do about it now. He'd made a deal, and as much as he wanted to run, he was a man of his word. He shut his eyes and tried to forget it all and go to sleep but his hand was throbbing and his bladder was full. He shifted carefully and drew the sheets back, doing his best not to disturb Aizen. He'd rather not wake him.

He sat, his bare feet touching down on a soft rug. Beyond the ornate edges was hardwood. Enough light from the city streamed through a gap in the curtains that he could see his way but he had yet to actually stand.

He tucked his arm against him and used his other hand to help push off from the mattress.

"Fuck," he hissed out in the dark when his wounded leg gave out on him and he crashed forward on his knees, grabbing the nightstand. He panted in pain. Worst though, was his hand. The jolt to his body seemed to return straight to that wound.

He took a minute to get his breath. He hadn't made much noise, despite falling, so Aizen remained asleep. He slowly pushed himself back up, gritting his teeth. His leg held this time. The wound was a bit deeper than he'd initially thought but it cut through the meat of his thigh and not through any tendons, as far as he could feel. It should heal without too much trouble.

He made it to the bathroom but by that time he was drenched in sweat from the pain and effort. He gently shut the door to, barely keeping up on his feet.

"Shit." He flicked on the light and stumbled to the toilet. It took everything he had to keep upright and completed the task one handed. When he was done, he used the sink to help him stand. He let his forehead fall against the cool surface of the mirror.

He was on fire. He panted for breath and let cold water fill the basin. When it was filled he leaned down and drenched his face and head. It felt good against his burning skin, but bending down was putting pressure on bruised ribs and other sore spots. He groaned and stood straight again, catching sight of dark marks all over his torso. It could have been worse, though, so much worse, and to dumb assholes like them too. Sometimes it didn't matter how clever or tough you were, when you were outnumbered.

"Fuck them," he grumbled and reached for a towel. He missed. His hand closed on empty air and the room tilted sideways. He hadn't realized he'd gotten this dizzy until he was falling.

Then his arm hit the floor and his hand smacked against tile.

He must have screamed, though he heard nothing, he just felt the pulsing pain shoot over and over through his nerves, telling his brain just how bad the damage was. But the door swung open and Aizen was above him. He swooped down on him, his silk pajama bottoms brushed against Grimmjow's heated flesh, then he was hoisted up and leaned back against tiled wall. It felt cool on his bare skin.

His head lolled, he felt a hand catch his chin and suddenly he was staring into brown eyes. They were framed by glasses. Did he wear contacts during the day? Grimmjow found himself wondering about this rather than listening to what the man was saying. He felt his body jerk when Aizen shook his shoulders. Then he lurched in pain again and tried to push him away.

His hand came up against Aizen's bare chest but that was about all he could do. He stared at his sculpted form, then his eyes droped to the floor and his hand fell back in his lap. Again he heard the voice but made out no words. He felt exhausted. He just wanted to sleep.

"GRIMMJOW!"

"Arhg!" Ice water assaulted him. He tried to pull out of the iron grip that had him. His right hand throbbed even worse, if possible but he couldn't figure out where he was or what was happening. Instead he writhed again, trying to get away from the hands that forced him to stay in the painful spray.

"Calm down." There was a hand on his waist, two more legs jutted out before him than there should have been. He only now felt the touch of skin on his back, the smoothness of a shower bottom beneath his feet. He did calm, despite his panic. "Good."

"Aizen?"

"Yes. You have a dangerous fever. I've sent for the doctor."

"My hand…" he was just now seeing the bandages were off. He hadn't seen the stitches yet or the swelling and discoloration all around the wound.

"It's infected," Aizen confirmed.

"Am I…gonna lose it?"

"…we'll see."

Grimmjow's stomach bottomed out. He tried to pull away again but Aizen held him tight.

"Don't…don't take it, please…"

He felt his voice break. The pain and his fevered mind were too much. He gasped and struggled a moment longer before succumbing to it all.

Grimmjow had never known sickness like this. He was unconscious when the doctor came and flooded his system with the most powerful antibiotics on the black market. He remained asleep for an entire day, while he was given continued doses of medication and his hand iced. When he finally woke he vomited until there was nothing left save painful dry heaves. He couldn't think or speak or move until the second day and even then he was bedridden and slept on and off the entire day.

The following morning he finally came around completely. He felt disgusting inside and out when he sat up just before dawn. His hand was bandaged again. He hoped that meant the infection was down. He couldn't feel it much but he knew that was from the pain killers. He was pretty sure he'd been reduced to tears from the pain at some point, though he wasn't sure since most of it was a blur. If he had though, he was humiliated. He hadn't cried in years.

Aizen was not in bed. He wasn't sure if he'd been sleeping here or not. He saw the bedroom door open to the rest of the penthouse and heard the low murmur of television. He ventured to stand and was shocked that he actually managed it.

He staggered his way over to the door and peered out. There were a pair of shoes at the door to the outside hall. They looked wet. Aizen must have just gotten in, most of his business probably took place at night anyway. A giant flat screen lit up one wall above the fireplace. Grimmjow saw a news anchor and headlines about a fire. Then he looked down and saw Aizen seated on the leather couch, perfect posture, suit on and dark drink in hand. Grimmjow considered returning to the bed, but he didn't feel like sleeping anymore. Besides, he realized now he probably would have died even if he had gotten away from the three. He owed this man his life.

"You're up." Aizen turned when he heard him crossing the room. He watched Grimmjow's careful steps and rose.

"I got it." Grimmjow held up a hand, indicating he didn't want help. Aizen let him. He made it all the way but he was winded. He sat next to Aizen, though leaving a bit of distance between them.

"I take it you are feeling better."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad."

"Me too…" He took a steadying breath and lowered his eyes away from Aizen. "Thank you for the last few days."

His chin was caught and he was forced to look up again. "Of course." Aizen smiled. "I couldn't have you dying before you upheld your end of the deal."

Grimmjow withdrew at once. His arms folded over his bare abdomen in sudden self-consciousness. Aizen took a sip of his drink.

"Did I upset you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're afraid."

"It's not fear it's…" but he was lost for a better word to describe the coil in his stomach. "I'm not looking forward to it, that's all."

"I haven't grown on you at all?"

"Well I'm thankful..."

"Grimmjow." He started at the hand that came down on his arm. Aizen shifted and drew the young man against him. "I want to know how you really feel."

Grimmjow stared up at him. He should have been pulling away from the embrace and yet he found comfort in the warmth of the arms around him, in those piercing eyes that beheld him. But none of that helped him figure out what to say to this man—a man who despite everything, was still a virtual stranger.

"Why?" he asked finally. "Why me? I mean, do you do this with everyone or is this different?"

"Do I personally save the life of every street thug that crosses my path? Of course not."

"And the deal?"

"I've made it before, for different individuals that caught my eye."

"So this is just payment then?"

"No, Grimmjow, I think we both know it's more than that. You will pay me the time you owe me, but if that's all I wanted I could have found it elsewhere. I could have let you die and pinned those three bodies on you. I could have let the surgeon cut off your hand when he said it was the simplest, cheapest way to stop the infection."

Grimmjow's eyes widened. He looked down on his hand and then back up at the man who was pretty much telling him he felt something for him.

And his immediate reaction was to pull away. He felt something in his chest he didn't recognize. Though he slid back on the couch, his eyes remained glued on Aizen, his face, his steady eyes. He waited, watching Grimmjow right back.

Grimmjow wanted to exclaim: 'what are you saying,' but he already knew just what Aizen meant. He looked away—he had to. He couldn't think, even his breath was uneven. Then a hand wrapped around his jaw and drew him forward again.

Lips were on him before he realized that Aizen had moved into him. Leather pressed into his back before he understood he was being forced to lay. A weight settled on his bruised body just as he became aware of the hardness bulging in Aizen's pants.

He should have stayed in bed.

A hand tightened in the back of his hair, fierce, firm, but it was the other one, trailing over his naked torso that he really felt.

"W-wait," he stammered when Aizen's mouth moved down along his chin. Was this the deal? Were they starting now or was this something else?

"Shhh," Aizen hissed into his heated flesh, lips against his chest. Grimmjow's body tightened. He felt a rush of heat in his face as the kisses worked lower and Aizen took hold of his boxers.

"Stop!" he protested, his good hand coming up to Aizen's shoulder. It wasn't enough. He was bared. He started to sit, trying to move away but Aizen pressed him back. He hated how weak he was at the moment.

"Just relax. You're body's not ready for that just yet."

"Then what?" Grimmjow's voice was shaking. He hated how nervous he sounded.

"Just lay still."

It was impossible. He squirmed and jerked from the tingling kisses that worked down his pelvis but his hips were held firmly and his legs pinned by Aizen's weight. He didn't obey and started to sit again when he felt lips against him.

"Ahh…" he collapsed back at the feeling of heat around him. When had he started to get hard? His cheeks burned red. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't control what his body did. But those thoughts left him as a tongue trailed down the underside of his shaft.

"Ah shit!" His hand clenched in leather. He wanted to move but he was pinned. His heart raced. His hand throbbed. His breath came fast and short. He stared at the ceiling, his stomach tightening when lips took him all the way in and began to slide up and down along with a flickering tongue. Grimmjow groaned out as the pleasure grew, slow and torturous.

He wanted relief. He bit his lip. His hips tried desperately to move but he was restrained. He gasped and shuddered and his hand scrapped over leather until he thought he was going to explode.

"Aizen…"

He was overwhelmed as soon as the mob boss sucked back. Aizen pulled away, letting Grimmjow release on the leather rather than in his mouth.

Grimmjow's back arched. He let out a long moan and felt the pulse of pleasure radiate through him in a way he'd never experienced before. It left him panting for a long time.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Grimmjow finally evened out his breathing.

"W-why did you do that?"

"To ease your fears about what's to come. It's Saturday morning. I think by Monday your body will be up to it."

"Monday…" Grimmjow sat with Aizen's help. "So six hours…"

"Not all at once, of course." Aizen took his hand and got him to his feet. Grimmjow staggered. He'd already felt weak. Now he couldn't refuse the steadying hand that wrapped around his waist as they headed back to the bedroom.

"How many times then?"

"I don't know, it just depends how fast we go."

Grimmjow needed to stop talking about it. As good as that just felt, none of this was part of the life he'd planned for himself. And he'd certainly never planned on being on the receiving end of things. He thought about the girl in the club. He'd wanted her, but he'd been hesitant to take from her in such circumstances. Now she was dead because she'd been on the wrong side.

Wasn't he now in the exact same position?

Aizen took them into the washroom. He turned on the tap to the bath. Grimmjow was glad. He wanted to clean up from being sick and from just now. The only thing was, he suspected he wouldn't be bathing alone.

Aizen must have had something to do, though, because he did in fact leave Grimmjow in privacy. He sighed with relief and sank in the warm water.

His leg stung. He'd removed the bandage and the heat now pricked his stitched skin. His right hand he kept tilted over the edge so it wouldn't get wet. He was glad he was left handed. It was very inconvenient to have only one working hand but at least it was the one he used most.

He scrubbed his abdomen first, eager to clean up his own mess. He still felt hot from it all. Was it normal to be able to get stimulated from something like that, even if he wasn't into men? But then, there was nothing normal about sharing a bed with Sosuke Aizen or having him take care of him for the past three days.

"Why me?" he said aloud, tilting his head back and dipping under the surface. He basked in the feeling of being consumed by the heat and weight of water. It was constricting and freeing all at once. He held his breath until his chest burned and then came back up. The air suddenly felt cold against his face. It felt good. But his question hovered in the air where he'd left it. Why did a man like Aizen want him? Why after just that one encounter had he gone to such lengths to keep him safe?

Sex. It all came down to that, he decided. He discarded the look Aizen had given him on the couch, the words, the declaration that he was 'worth saving' and decided the mobster wanted him for one thing and one thing only. That he could deal with. For whatever reason, Aizen must have just found him particularly attractive and since he always got what he wanted, he would go to whatever lengths necessary to have it.

Grimmjow stayed in the bath a long time but finally pulled out when the water was cool and his toes were pruned. He wanted clothes, but he didn't know where to find them. However, just like last time, there was a bag waiting. He didn't really like that Aizen bought him clothes. He wanted his own, but this was his only option. They were looser than before, no doubt to accommodate his injuries. He still struggled into the t-shirt, hissing as his hand went through the sleeve. He was just dressed when he heard a knock on the door.

"You decent?" It was Stark.

"Yeah."

The door opened. Stark had a bottle of water in one hand and a pills in the other. "Your antibiotics. Take them now then I'll get you some food."

Grimmjow swallowed them back. Stark started to go but Grimmjow stopped him.

"Do I have to stay here?"

"In the bedroom?"

"No, I mean here."

"Oh." Stark looked him over. "You want to go for a walk?"

Grimmjow knew he wouldn't get a straight answer on whether or not he was free to walk out of the building, so he accepted this offer. He also knew he wasn't up to making an escape and maybe he wasn't even up to being on his own, so for now he'd stay. But was he expected to remain here until all six hours were fulfilled? The terms of their deal were vague and that made Grimmjow nervous.

"How about a little tour?" Stark offered taking them though a skywalk that joined one part of the casino to the hotel.

"Stark."

"Yeah?"

"Has Aizen ever done this with anyone else?"

Stark kept walking, but Grimmjow could read that he was hesitant to talk openly about his boss this way.

"Not so…intently."

Grimmjow had suspected but it still hit him hard.

"Listen kid, this could be a good thing for you."

"You said that before, in the car."

"Right. I also said you should think about your feelings."

"I don't have any, not where Aizen's concerned."

"If that's true than you need to let him know. You need to take what's coming your way and then walk away. But if that ain't true, well, you should let him know that too, before he takes things the wrong way."

"What does that mean?"

"Like I said last time, he'd not bad, but he's not good either. You don't want him playing around with you, but you can't play around with him either. He might run out of patience."

With that warning they entered the Casino from a private floor, taking them out onto a landing that let them survey the floor of green tables, white tile, glittering glass and silver and blinking machines. A man in a black uniform with an ear bud overlooked it all even though it was still morning and only a few people were having breakfast mimosa at a bar. Dealers weren't out yet. Someone pulled the arm of one of the lotto machines.

"Have you ever been here before?" Stark asked.

"No. Pool is about all the gambling I do."

"You hustle?"

"When I need cash."

"Then you can learn this stuff no problem. If you end up sticking around, I'll teach you sometime."

Stark seemed very at ease. He must have been high ranking in the organization, maybe even Aizen's right hand.

"How's the leg?" he asked when they came to another hall. Grimmjow had been limping but since the bath he'd been steadier.

"I'm fine."

"Good, food's down this way." They left the luxury of the public halls for service entries and came to the busy kitchen back in the hotel. Stark snagged a couple plates while no one was looking—even though Grimmjow was sure he was entitled to whatever food he wanted—and motioned Grimmjow to followed him through another door. They took one more hall and came to a secure door. Stark pushed in and they sat before rows of monitors.

"This is my favourite pass time," he admitted setting a plate on Grimmjow's lap once he was seated. Grimmjow looked to the monitors. Hallways, the lobby, the casino—it was all caught on camera here.

"You wouldn't believe the drama that plays out on these screens. It's better than daytime tv."

Grimmjow continued to scan them and finally spotted the front desk of Aizen's office. He also saw the landing to the penthouse but nothing more.

"No camera's in Aizen's suite?"

"Nope. Whatever happens in there, stays in there," Stark responded knowingly. Grimmjow was relieved. It would be hard enough to go through what awaited him with just Aizen. He wasn't sure he could do it if he knew others were watching.

"Eat up kid." Stark dug into his own meal. Grimmjow picked at his slowly. It was partly because he hadn't eaten in days so his stomach was cramped and not up for much, but mostly he knew it was because his thoughts were stuck on Monday.

It took no time for the day in question to arrive. He spent a little more time with Stark, but mostly he rested in Aizen's Penthouse. He slept on the couch though. Aizen said nothing about it but Grimmjow sensed this displeased him. He remembered Stark's warning but he didn't really know how to take it yet. On Monday evening he waited nervously by the pool table. He couldn't play with his busted hand, but he leaned against it, watching the news—or pretending to. His mind was too occupied with other things.

He shot to his feet when the door opened. He wasn't sure why, but he stood straight and stiff. Aizen noticed. He untied his shoes and hung his coat. Then he went to the bar and got a drink.

"Join me."

It wasn't a request. Grimmjow didn't mind. He watched Aizen pour the drink, however, making sure there was nothing added. Then he relaxed. Wouldn't it be better in a way, if he did throw in something extra? Maybe he should ask, maybe that would make it better.

But he said nothing. He drank deep. He let it spread through him and it hit fast since he still wasn't eating as much and his body was strained from the antibiotics. He welcomed the feeling and drank more until his fingers and toes felt tingly. Aizen cut him off then. He could probably tell and he must want him at least partly clear headed.

"Let's go."

He took his hand. Grimmjow slid from the stool when he was pulled forward. He followed after Aizen like a robot. He stayed at the door when his hand was released. Aizen had shut it but now took a moment to pull off his tie, his suit jacket, and fold them. Then he went to the closet, reached high and drew something down. It was a clock of some sort...no, a timer, Grimmjow realized, his stomach tightening. Aizen was really going to hold him to his word at six hours. He pushed buttons until it read 6. Then he set it near the night stand where he also drew out a tube of lube. He set it down again though.

"Since you seemed so worried about your time the other day, I thought this was the only fair way."

"Ah…yeah."

Aizen depressed the button at the top. The numbers began to count down.

"Then let's get started."

He moved over the room with speed. Grimmjow stood where he was. Aizen was quick to remove his shirt. He was, however, careful of his hand, easing it out of the t-shirt. He held his wrist considering the appendage. Grimmjow hoped this meant he'd be keeping in mind it couldn't be moved much.

"How is it today?" he asked dropping his hand and taking his waist. His fingers played over Grimmjow's sides as he watched him.

"It's okay," he whispered back. He was looking down, watching Aizen's hands move up his body, slow, intentional, exploratory.

"I'll be careful." Aizen slipped his hands behind Grimmjow's back now and pulled him flush against him.

Grimmjow just nodded. He found it hard to breathe, especially when Aizen closed the distance completely.

Hungry hands held him tight, sliding up and down his bare back, but an even hungrier tongue delved into his mouth. Aizen had been in his proximity for about a week and not touched him—well not like this anyway. It was clear now that his desire had only grown with the restraint he'd shown then.

He spun them around and walked them backwards. Grimmjow felt the bed hit the back of his legs. Aizen slowed when he lowered them down. But as soon as he was on the bed with Grimmjow beneath him he picked up his pace again. He kissed deep. He touched everywhere until his torso wasn't enough and hands went for his belt, his fly.

Grimmjow focused on breathing when Aizen's mouth parted from his and he pulled down Grimmjow's pants. He threw them from the bed then went for his boxers.

Even now Grimmjow blushed. Even now he felt shame, fear—everything he hated to feel. But when Aizen started to touch him, he realized he was already half hard.

What did that mean? What did that make him?

He must have shut his eyes, because next thing there was a hand on one side of his face and Aizen was right over top of him.

He looked about to speak, but instead he bent in again. This time though, the kiss was very soft, very quick, almost like a reassurance, before he returned to what he was doing down below.

Grimmjow covered his mouth. He didn't know if that would offend Aizen or not but when the other started to touch him until he became fully hard, he didn't want to make those sounds. He held back until Aizen withdrew and he watched him pull the shirt from his own shoulders.

Grimmjow stared at solid muscle—not bulky, but sharply cut into his lean physique. Grimmjow himself was very muscular, but he was still young. It would take him a few more years to have the solidity of Aizen's form. He wondered in the back of his mind how old this man was. He tried to recall things he'd heard. Was he in his thirties? Forties? If a person took good care of themselves, they could look younger than they were. Aizen definitely looked like he took care of himself, and Grimmjow couldn't imagine him aging, his tight body sagging with fat or old age. He seemed too powerful to be affected by such ordinary things.

He was fascinated by Aizen. He could admit that to himself. And he was gripped by the fact that Aizen had chosen him to rescue, to save. But beyond that he would admit nothing. He would ignore any other thought that suggested sentiment toward this man.

So he steeled his heart along with his mind, when Aizen settled back on the bed, lube in hand.

"Roll over."

Grimmjow didn't want to. He didn't want to give up the ability to see and know what was coming but he was on Aizen's time now. He did what he said, rolling so he was on his stomach. Aizen shifted pillows around and pushed one at Grimmjow's hips. He told him to lift them before slipping it beneath him. Grimmjow's face burned. Now his ass was arched up in the air while he lay face down. It was humiliating.

Aizen's hand swept down his back, making him shiver. He gripped the sheets with his left hand, staring at the counting clock. Really, fifteen minutes, that was it? How was it possible? At this rate his six hours would never be up. Six nights of this—that was if each session endured for an hour. Would they be in a row, spread out? Would he be allowed to leave between sessions? Just what had he signed on for when he'd asked to be saved?

"Tonight we'll start slow." He heard Aizen but he couldn't feel or see him. He'd gotten off the bed again, which made Grimmjow nervous. He heard a drawer open on the other side of the room. He started to shift but the drawer was shut before he could see. "I'm doing this to prepare you, not to hurt you."

That was far from comforting, and when Grimmjow felt the fabric at his ankle he instantly started to recoil.

"Easy," Aizen soothed.

"What? I don't want to be tied up!" he protested, trying to right himself but with only one working hand and his ankle trapped he was off balance and couldn't flip over.

"Only for the beginning," Aizen reassured but Grimmjow wasn't giving in.

"No way. I didn't agree to this."

"You agreed to six hours. I decide what we do in those six hours."

Grimmjow grit his teeth. He didn't think he could handle restraints…feeling trapped.

The hand on his ankle slackened. He felt the fabric pull away with a soft sigh. Aizen took him by the shoulder and rolled him back over. He was stiff—more like rigid—from the tension that had built in him. Aizen's hand pressed into his shoulder, keeping him down but he faced him straight on.

"It bothers you that much?"

A nod.

"Fine." He didn't sound disappointed, or angry. He was calm, even. Again Grimmjow thought back to what Stark had said. Eventually his patience would run out. Apparently it hadn't run out quite yet.

"I'm going to loosen you up with this." He held up the object he'd retrieved from the drawer. It was a dildo, shiny with lube. Grimmjow stared at it. It wasn't as big as Aizen himself. Aizen smirked as if he could read his thoughts.

"Not as impressive as the real thing, I know. But then, that would defeat the point."

He leaned down and slid an arm behind Grimmjow's head. His other hand went low and Grimmjow felt the end at his entrance.

"Take a breath."

Grimmjow did. Aizen pushed in. He tensed up and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth. Aizen continued to push. The dildo slid in smoothly, though it still stretched and pulled his muscles in an unnatural, borderline painful way. Finally though, the object was buried, stretching him. He realized with dread that if this was stretching him, what would Aizen's girth do to him?

The same as last time, he supposed

"Easy now," Aizen whispered, drawing back. Grimmjow tilted his head, looking down his body to Aizen's busy hand. He saw the end of the object when it was almost all the way out, then Aizen pushed in again.

Aizen leaned in and kissed Grimmjow's chin. His lips worked lower, teeth scraping along his jaw line, then his neck. Grimmjow felt hot. He wasn't sure which sensation flushed him more: the lips at his throat or the friction inside of him.

He tried to relax. He willed his body to calm and let go of the fear and pain. He willed the liquor to take him to a place where he didn't care. But in truth he remained ever in the present, feeling the heat on his skin and inside of him. Aizen began to move the object faster. He refused, however, to give pleasure with it. He never hit his mark though his other hand occasionally caressed Grimmjow's need.

Grimmjow became drenched in sweat. He began to shake and his hips to buck and his body to give in to all that assaulted it. Only when a moan escaped him against his will did Aizen withdraw the object, and stand. He stripped while Grimmjow watched—why did he watch? He knelt at the end of the bed and then bent forward over Grimmjow. He smiled and Grimmjow almost opened his mouth for the kiss that came.

What the fuck was he doing? He should be screaming, fighting.

No he shouldn't. He'd given his word.

He gripped Aizen's shoulder. He knew it was coming and he needed something to hold onto. Aizen's eyes settled back on his, serious now, as he lined up. He shifted his weight until it was evenly distributed on either side of Grimmjow's body, then he pushed his hips forward.

Again, Grimmjow was overwhelmed. He bent up, half sitting, unintentionally pressing himself into Aizen. The other gripped him, as if embracing him, holding his panting form against his taught muscle. Grimmjow breathed in his heat, his scent. He hugged him with his good hand, unable to think of what else to do to ease this pain. He thought as long as he maintained this embrace, Aizen wouldn't move. But Aizen kissed his temple and lay him back down. Grimmjow looked down at the seemingly impossible proximity of their hips. His mind reeled at the idea of their bodies so closely melded. Then he screamed when Aizen moved.

His head fell back completely. Aizen stopped, to his surprise. He waited for Grimmjow to catch his erratic breath, then he drew back so slowly it must have required all his muscles to control the movement. He inched his way out again, bit by bit, giving Grimmjow relief, but when he was almost all the way out again, he started to push back in.

Grimmjow's lower lip bled. He'd bitten it hard and he continued to as the pain in his abdomen grew. He stared up at Aizen's sweat plastered face. He knew he was restraining himself. He knew he was being given mercy at this moment.

Aizen held out a little while longer, drawing in and out at the impossibly slow pace in order to get Grimmjow ready. But eventually even his willpower was reduced to primal urges and he began to speed up.

Grimmjow couldn't say it was as bad as last time. Indeed, the preparation made a difference, and he found that place of pleasure above pain a bit faster, but it didn't mean the pain didn't exist. He shut his eyes. He clawed Aizen's arm. He yelped, moaned and groaned until the latter was all he was doing and suddenly he wasn't panting in panic but in need, and his hips began to shake, to rock and that incredible place deep inside him throbbed again and again as Aizen stroked it with impossible precision.

"AHH! FUCK!" he screamed, thinking of the cameras and how he was so glad Stark wasn't watching. "FUCK!" he yelled again and left red lines in Aizen's back. "Finish it!" he whispered desperately when breathing became strained.

"Aizen," he barely breathed and finally the relief—the pleasure—he sought came.

He'd never in his life experienced an orgasm so intense or long lasting.

He lay in a stupor after, as Aizen gathered him in his arms. He still felt the hot liquid deep inside him. He was disgusted and satisfied all at once.

He saw the clock when Aizen reached past him to shut it off.

Thirty seven minutes.

He passed out in that intimate embrace.

Well, I don't know about you but now I'm tired. Big chapter, hope you enjoyed.

~ZQ