His backside burned. It wasn't as bad as last time. He'd known that as soon as he'd woken and been able to stand. But it hurt like hell and his legs were still wobbly.

He remembered the orgasm. He remembered how hard he came. He wished he had just screamed and felt only pain. He wished everything could be black and white like it had been a month ago.

Aizen's hand slid over his bare side. He flinched and rolled from the touch. That's when he'd discovered he could stand. It was also, however, when Aizen had come awake to find him recoiling.

He thought he saw a bit of what Stark meant in brown eyes before they could even themselves out. Would Aizen tire of his skittishness? And what would he do when he did?

"I gotta piss," Grimmjow said lamely, trying to diffuse the situation. He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him. He let out a long leak but it didn't give him the real relief he desired. He washed up and opened the door. Aizen was already up and dressed.

"I'll see you tonight," he said it coolly. He was mad, he must be. Grimmjow watched him go then sank back to the bed for a moment.

His body ached. He'd had to endure too much pain lately. He didn't like having this added on. But the physical pain was something direct, easy to deal with. It was the rest of him that really bothered him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why didn't he run away? Why didn't he tell Aizen he was cruel, sick bastard? Why did some part of him care that Aizen had left angry?

He shoved off from the bed. This wasn't him. He'd never cared about what other people thought—not since he'd left home, anyway. He had to find that again. He had to reclaim that anger that had gotten him though trial after trial since he was just a kid.

He stood straight and calmed.

He would face this head on, and get through it like everything else.

"What?" Aizen looked at him across the table. They had started with a meal tonight. Grimmjow had only picked at his. Now he dropped his fork.

"What do you think?"

"Was I not fair last night?"

"Sure."

"Grimmjow."

"What?"

"Look at me."

He did. He kept his eyes hard, narrow. He watched Aizen's expression change to match his own.

"So you despise me."

"You expect anything different?"

Aizen's hand slammed down. He table shook between them. Grimmjow watched his chest inflate before slowly compressing again.

"Fine. We'll do this your way." He stood and grabbed Grimmjow's good wrist, pulling him up. He dragged him to the bedroom and his hand slammed down on the clock.

"Knees," he ordered.

Grimmjow stared at him a moment. Aizen pressed on his shoulders until his body complied and he sank to his knees. Aizen wasted no time pulling down his own pants and revealing his stiff cock.

"Go on," he prompted.

Grimmjow gaped. He hadn't the first clue how to do this, nor the stomach for it. But a hand was in his hair in a second, forcing his head forward.

"Do it!"

Aizen's fingers tightened. Grimmjow took a steadying breath. The timer was on. He had to do as he was told. He opened his mouth.

Aizen shoved in. He made no effort to accommodate the fact Grimmjow had never done this before. His fingers knotted in blue hair and guided him along his shaft. Grimmjow had no choice but to take him in, clumsily licking and sucking.

He did try. Somehow he knew things would get worse if he didn't, but he didn't really succeed either. He tried to think about himself and what he would want to feel but none of that seemed to translate in the heat of the moment, when a sour taste filled his mouth and Aizen's hands pulled his head so tight he felt pressure at the back of his throat and his eye watered for the torn hair follicles.

He gagged when Aizen began to thrust.

His eyes streamed with water. He tried to pull away but Aizen held him in place with both hands now, as his hips rocked forward. Grimmjow's hand came up to the crime lord's leg and tightened over his flesh in the only way he could communicate his pain, his panic at being suffocated. Aizen ignored it. He made Grimmjow work until he was overcome and then he made him swallow it all or risk drowning.

Grimmjow pulled back as soon as he was let go. Aizen hit the clock meaningfully but Grimmjow couldn't see it past the tears that had filtered into his vision. He held a hand against his mouth for a moment then he knew worse was coming and staggered up.

He collapsed against the toilet bowl as he vomited. The door was only partially shut and he could see Aizen still perched on the edge of the bed as his guts spewed violently. When he saw Aizen stand he lurched away from the toilet and shoved the door shut with bang.

He collapsed back against the bathtub. He knew he was acting childish. He'd brought this on himself, but he still didn't want this. He didn't want to feel used the way he did now. He stomach clenched again. He made it to the toilet just in time, but the door pressed inward as his body convulsed.

He raised his hand when he was done, the only way left to him to keep some distance between himself and this man.

"What?" Aizen challenged. "I offered you everything. Clearly you don't want it, you want out of this a quickly as possible so why not indulge me? Why not let the clock keep ticking?"

He bent down. Grimmjow watched him carefully. He dared not speak, for the truth of his feelings might accidentally escape. Aizen gripped his shoulders.

His shirt came off. Then his pants. Grimmjow lay back on cold tile between the sink and the tub. He didn't want it like this, but he couldn't admit what else he wanted so he took it. He shrieked when Aizen thrust in. He was unprepared. It hurt like hell. He screamed repeatedly. Aizen slowed at the end, as if some part of him was still merciful, but then he came and crushed Grimmjow beneath him, rocking him hard until it was over.

Grimmjow rolled away from him after. He couldn't help that his body curved in on itself. He couldn't help that tears pricked his eyes or blood ran from deep inside him.

He wished Aizen had walked away from him then, so he could hate him in earnest, but he didn't. Instead, Aizen folded him in his arms and scolded him for being so proud. Grimmjow didn't move—refused to move—but hours later he woke in the bed. He wiped his face. He shivered in pain. He wished for all the world he could be free—but he knew that if he walked away now, freedom was not what he would find.

"It would be helpful if you spoke your mind."

Aizen ate breakfast at the side table in the bedroom. Grimmjow refused to budge from where he sat, back against headboard and arms wrapped around his knees. He was in pain and the position wasn't helping, but he felt more defensible this way.

"Let me go."

"You are not my prisoner."

"Good. Then I want to go home."

"The deal isn't done. You still owe me almost five hours." Grimmjow shut his eyes. Aizen had gone at him hard and fast last night, so very little time had been eaten away from his total.

"Fine. But I don't want to stay here in the meantime."

"So long as you understand I will come to collect what is mine."

"Fine."

Aizen nodded and rose. He said nothing more before leaving. Grimmjow sat a while longer, emotions higher than he ever would have admitted, and then gathered the clothes Aizen had purchased for him. He dressed and struggled to stand. He struggled more to walk to the door. Stark found him half way down the hall. He silently slipped an arm around his waist

"I warned you."

"Shut up," he muttered but when they were in the elevator he had to face him. His eyes flicked to the side and without understand why he said aloud—"I just want to go back to my life."

"He would understand, if you just let him."

"I don't want to let him. I don't want to…"

Stark eyed him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Grimmjow said. "Are you driving me home?"

"Are you asking me to?"

Grimmjow had swallowed too much of his pride already. "Yeah." He didn't want to walk or try to catch a bus in this condition.

"Good, at least you haven't lost all reason," Stark sighed. They exited to the parking lot and came to the car. "But I suggest you control that temper of yours and show Aizen how you really feel before next time."

"Shut up." Grimmjow sat carefully in the passenger seat.

"He'll get everything he can out of you, just because he's hurt."

"Hurt? He's hurt?" Grimmjow shook his head, incredulous. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Damn, kid, you are dumb if you don't know the answer already."

Grimmjow still tried to figure it out. He came up with nothing.

"Well, whatever, kid," Stark concluded when they rolled up to his place. "Just expect him to come, okay?"

"When?"

"Whenever he feels like it. Later."

Stark drove off. Grimmjow stared after him. His fist clenched and he went inside. The door was repaired. Had Aizen ordered this? His jaw clenched now. He slid his key in the lock and entered.

It was clean, even after the fight. Aizen had definitely done this, but instead of relief he felt rage. His fist balled as tight as it would go and his foot found the nearest object: a box of junk that had been ruined but they hadn't thrown out on him. Fuck! They considered everything! They took care of everything. All the independence he'd strived for over the years had evaporated just like that. He'd gone back to relying on someone to take care of him, protect him. He'd become weak and used all over again.

"FUCK!" His fist planted in the wall. He shivered from the pain but it was nothing compared to the heat of his rage. Plaster broke free as he withdrew his left hand. He shook out the pain but blood clung to his knuckles along with white powder.

He dropped his hand. He made it to the couch and sagged. He buried his face in air-freshened fabric but did not cry. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Instead he took several calming breaths, rose stripped and trashed the clothes Aizen had given him. He showered long and dressed in his own clothes.

Let him come. Let him do what he wanted. As soon as those six hours were up, Grimmjow would never have to see Sosuke Aizen again.

"Of course you brought it." Grimmjow rolled his eyes, seeing the timer in Aizen's hand. Grimmjow slung back his beer—he didn't even know what number it was.

"You were waiting for me." Aizen left the timer on Grimmjow's night stand. His eyes roamed up and down Grimmjow's body, seeing the sweat, the stain of beer that had slipped between his bottle and his lips down the neck of his shirt. "For quite some time."

"All damn night." Grimmjow slammed his bottle down. "I thought maybe you weren't coming."

"I was busy." It was well past midnight. Aizen stripped his coat, then the jacket to his suit before returning to the night stand, hand hovering over the timer. "You ready?"

Grimmjow just nodded. The timer began. Aizen said one word.

"Strip."

Grimmjow turned away from him. His anger had gotten out of control as the day wore on. He'd broken a few things in his home, but now the boiling rage wouldn't let him stare this man straight on. He did his best to undress one handed, still staring at the wall, away from Aizen. When his hand caught in his shirt due to the bandage, he swore but also heard the floorboards creak behind him.

"Easy." Aizen's hands were on him. They slid down his bare shoulder, his arm and to his wrist where the fabric was caught. He gently loosened the shirt so it would slide painlessly past his bandage. When he was done, he remained behind Grimmjow, holding his shoulders. A few seconds passed and his hands descended his torso and held him around the abdomen.

"You seem angry."

Grimmjow said nothing, just let a thick breath depart from his lips.

"Grimmjow?"

"Just get to it, alright?" He felt fingers clench over his skin. He'd antagonized him. He knew the pain was coming now. In some sick, messed up way, that gave him relief.

Because it was really the pleasure that had made him angry, scared, confused. It was the pleasure he didn't want to feel again. And if Aizen took him by force, hurt him, it would be so much easier to push this all away, once it was over, compartmentalize it and forget it with well-rehearsed ease.

"If that's what you want."

Those firm hands forced him toward the bed. They made him lay face down while his pants were wrestled off of him. Worse, though, Aizen returned to previous attempt and this time Grimmjow had no way to persuade him to stop.

He lay face down on his own bed as Aizen tied his ankles to the posts. He was humiliated, enraged, and worst of all, scared. He lay panting for breath, his body shaking, as Aizen's fingers delved into him. When it was something worse, he'd have no room to escape, no room to lessen the blows.

He whimpered. Shit. Had that sound really come from him? Had he just made a noise so pathetic is sounded like a wounded animal?

Aizen's fingers stilled. He waited with strained breath and then felt Aizen withdraw. Relief spread through him for just a second then the fingers were replaced by something else, something long and thick and cold. He winced as it was pushed in. He yelped when it was turned on—he didn't know it could vibrate.

His whole lower half was pulsating. The vibrations ran through his spine, his muscles and of course, his prostrate. He was getting hard fast and with no relief. He squeezed his eyes shut and wondered how long Aizen would force him to endure.

Eventually, his legs snapped in their bindings. He didn't know how long it had been but he'd had enough. He needed to be free. He needed to have release both in his genitals and his legs. His ankles snapped taught. Aizen put a hand in his lower back warning him to stop but he couldn't. He yanked again, desperate. His body rocked forward on the bed. Pain shot through his right hand as he reached even with his wounded hand to try to twist himself, escape the restraints.

His heart raced. He was trapped. He couldn't be trapped. He couldn't handle being trapped.

"Stop." Aizen's hands were on him but it only caused him to panic more. He barely noticed the device come out of him, all he felt now were the restraints. His breathing had turned erratic, uneven. He tried to reach back to undo his legs only to find Aizen there.

"Agh, let me go," he hollered. He didn't catch the look on Aizen's face when he pressed both hands to the mattress and heaved back. The agony in his right hand escaped him in a wild scream. He collapsed back, panting, but still struggled.

"Let me go…letmego…." He sagged forward, trying to breathe, muscles still jerking to get free. Until finally something snapped and he felt skin against his skin as Aizen loosened the restraints and pulled his legs free.

Grimmjow rolled off the bed at once, away from the hands and restraints. He groaned in pain, his right hand throbbing, but he worked his way up, leaning back against the night strand where he could see Aizen. Behind him on the nightstand, the numbers on the timer dwindled. His heart rate matched their timing, then it increased, beating faster, then twice as fast as the seconds descended.

"Stop!" he cried out when Aizen moved his way. He did stop. Aizen watched him, those piercing eyes softer than they had been last time.

Why?

Aizen reached for him. Grimmjow recoiled.

The timer stopped. Grimmjow dared open eyes that he had involuntarily shut and look up at Aizen who was just withdrawing his hand from the clock.

Grimmjow ducked past him and into the washroom, slamming the door shut. He fell back against it, still on the verge of panic. No. He couldn't let it win. He needed to stop it before it grew. But he already smelled aged leather, dusty winter jackets and dry wood. He already felt the cold, the dark, the four walls pressing in on him.

Fuck. FUCK. "FUCK!" He smashed the mirror before he could see himself, see a reminder of that scared kid who'd run away. He lifted his fist—the side of it had been cut but he didn't even feel that. He felt the burn from the restraints, the hands from his memories.

He wasn't sure when the door behind him opened. He wasn't sure when hands slid around him, turned him and held him. And he wasn't sure when he had given in—now, or perhaps a week ago or even sooner—to this man. But he held him back, he closed his eyes, and somehow he knew that in this embrace, he was safe.

Loving the feedback! Thanks so much!

~ZQ