61. Soft
He was a hard man. Grimmjow knew this. It was more than easy to see just by looking at him- spiked orange hair weighed down with sweat, an eternal scowl and more muscle than he'd ever seen on a real man in his life. He was a Soul Reaper, one of the Devils of Rukon and even had a fancy white coat that he thought meant he was really, really strong. But Grimmjow was desperate and he was running out of time. He had no more options. Timidly, cradling his precious cargo in his arm to protect her should a blow come, he reached up and pulled ever-so-lightly on the stranger's long sleeve. He was granted full and absolute attention immediately, the man's head whipping around so fast the movement seemed almost inhuman. Gulping back the fear and wishing he was big enough to actually use the ratty, dirty, damaged-edged katana he carried on his back, he looked straight back into that Devil's eyes. "Excuse me, sir, can you help me?" The soul reaper did something that honestly surprised him- he bent at the waist enough to get a better look at him. "Depends on what kinda help," the tall man rumbled, his voice deep but somehow soothing. Grimmjow swallowed hard, steeled his nerves, and shifted so the man could see the little gray bundle he held. "She was kicked and stepped on, and I think her ribs might be broke. I can't fix it myself," he admitted, cheeks burning in shame. He didn't know why he'd ever thought a Devil would be willing to help him, especially not with this, but she was just so small and helpless. He couldn't bring himself to let that kitten die in the dust.
The man examined her for a moment, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and Grimmjow waited for the 'can't help ya kid.' but it never came. Only a deep bass chuckle and a huge, warm hand moving to give the kitten a soft stroke. "She's a little fighter, this one. If she had already died there would be nothing I could do, but she's hangin' in there." A soft green glow came from the hand touching her, getting stronger and stronger until it suddenly disappeared like it had never been. Kisa, for her part, yawned, stretched, and popped her head out over Grimmjow's arm, eyes wide and bright. Her ears perked, she batted at the man's fingers and he let her, twiddling them a bit to entice her to play and laughing when she bit and scratched at his 'captured' digits. As best as Grimmjow could tell, she was perfectly fine and happy as though she'd never been hurt. "I…don't have any food or money to trade…" The stranger looked up from watching the kitten, his face mostly blank but still sort of amused from her antics. "Hmm? Oh, no, kid, you don't gotta trade or pay me nothin'. I'm a sucker for cats an' especially for kittens." Grimmjow set his jaw- he knew he was pretty. For being only twelve, he managed to pay for most of the small things he needed (food, mostly) by either doing manual labor or…that. He didn't like owing, and that he could get away with paying something small if he paid right away was something he'd had to learn the hard way. There was nothing he hated more than paying that way, but he couldn't owe a Soul Reaper. Forcing down his stomach, he leaned up and kissed the man, straight on the mouth.
The man blinked at him, obviously confused, before his eyes darkened and he pulled back. "No, I told you, you don't have to pay me." Grimmjow couldn't help growling at him; his eyes were already dark with evil lusts, and he did not want his debt having 'interest' added to it later. "You saved my Kisa. I always pay what I owe. I hate having my debts called in later." The man shook his head, coming down to Grimmjow's level more fully by dropping to one knee. "And Ichigo Kurosaki does not, I repeat, does not ever, ever ask for payment, particularly not from a kid and never in my life have I been 'paid' that way, nor would I want to be." Suddenly he paused, and his brows furrowed as he frowned. "No, my mistake…one man paid his debt to me that way, just once. He…he looked just like you, only about ten years older and full-grown. No, I will never take that kind of payment." His scowl returned with a vengeance, and he growled. "As far as I'm concerned, the blue-haired bastard still owes me!" He rose then, one hand clenching into a fist while the other rested on Grimmjow's own blue locks. "Damned bastard- I saved his life only so he himself could end it? Fucker owes me still for pullin' that shit." Grimmjow felt something unknown and strange well up inside him, and the words passed his lips before he could stop them. "He paid! He owes you nothing, he paid what he owed!"
That day Grimmjow learned something rather funny from an orange-haired Soul Reaper devil…hard men, even angry and argumentative, could have a very, very soft touch.
62 Property
It really hadn't meant anything at first, but it gradually become a running joke, a game of sorts, as to who 'owned' whom among their close-knit group. It had started originally because someone pranked Renji by sewing 'Property of Byakuya Kuchiki' in bright pink thread across the shoulders of every uniform he owned. The aforementioned being both his captain and his lover, this statement was not only correct but incredibly embarrassing. Then Rukia got it into her head that everyone in their group ought to be Property for a while to make him feel a little less humiliated. They picked out of a hat, and some of them more or less made sense- Chad was Property of Ichigo, for instance- while others were pure insanity- Kenpatchi was Property of Ishida. They'd jokingly bet their 'property' on cards or dice (which was nice when they had no more money to gamble with) and everybody switched owners so many times they had to take to wearing armbands to keep it straight. Sometimes people became property of themselves- they were 'freemen'- but that status was usually quickly lost with an irresistible round of poker and a drink of sake. They had just finished a round of these games, sometimes referred to as 'swap meets' because that's all they really did, swapping armbands and owners, when the roar of an opening gargantua drew them outside. They were actually rather disinterested in the Espada that came out, as Grimmjow usually arrived about this time of the week to pick another fight with Ichigo. Completely ignoring the panther hovering above them, they finished straightening out who the hell belonged to whom, and got armbands exchanged.
As Ichigo finally rose to meet his opponent, he grumbled at the red-and-black armband that stretched over his bicep. To make it a little more fun, once you transferred 'owners' you had to spend a day doing tasks for that person, but only one day so it wasn't that bad. He was Property of Renji again, which meant that tomorrow he'd be stuck doing the lieutenant's paperwork for the third time this week. Of course, that was better than having to run and fight for fifteen hours when he was Property of Kenpatchi. With a sigh, he readied Zangetsu but Grimmjow didn't respond- he seemed to be too busy staring at his arm…oh, he was probably trying to read the armband! "It says Property of Renji," he muttered, trying to bring Grimmjow back to the fight- this weekly brawl was how he worked out all his pent up aggression, after all. Grimmjow glared. "What th'hell has he done fer ya to belong ta him? Last week it was Orihime, and th'week before that was Hanatarou! Why th'hell do they keep tradin' ya off? Don't ya mean anythin' ta them?" Ichigo shrugged. "Not as more than a friend. Shit, I've traded and bet and switched my Property around must've been a thousand times by now, I can't expect them to be any better. Besides," he added at the espada's horrorstruck expression, "I don't think you understand the whole 'Property' situation right. It ain't serious, ya know, it's only fun for us."
Grimmjow shook his head. "Yeah, I don't understand it. With us, what belongs ta ya belongs ta ya. Ya don't give it up fer anythin'. It's only fun when the owner actually gives a shit, and then he holds on so fuckin' tight you'll never get his property away from 'im." Ichigo sighed- it looked like he wasn't getting his fight tonight at all. "You're still not getting it- we're not actually property of anyone, we just say we are to make Renji feel better because we know he belongs, body and soul, to his Captain and lover. We make light of it so he feels less humiliated." Grimmjow growled. "It's no shame to belong! Unless…does his lover not belong to him in return?" The teen shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure, he's too much like Ulquiorra- always emotionless unless in absolute private and even then he's usually formal and stiff." This set off a whole new round of arguments because this confused Grimmjow all over again. They seriously never should've started this 'Property' crap.
63. Manners
Grimmjow couldn't help it- he was going to die of embarrassment. He finally, finally managed to talk his walking wet dream of a classmate into going on an actual DATE with him, a fucking DATE after nearly three years of hard work to persuade the stubborn young man to give him a chance, and it was getting entirely ruined because the babysitter had canceled at the last minute and he'd had to bring his kid sister along. Nel, when she wanted to, could act like a perfect little angel. When she didn't want to, she was rude, crude, demonic hellspawn with green hair. Right now she was screaming at the poor waitress for not putting the pancakes just right on the plate, and he was frantically trying to calm her down and apologize to the waitress at the same time. He was surprised, but extremely relieved, when Ichigo (his lovely, lovely date) took charge of the hysterical child. No fuss, no warning, he just picked her straight up by her syrup-stained clothes and carried her outside, ignoring her struggles, screams, and crying. Absolutely humiliated by this behavior from his own flesh and blood, Grimmjow did his best to soothe and apologize to the waitress, who accepted it gracefully and with a weary smile that said she'd seen it all before. He paid the bill and slunk out the door, knowing it would be a long time before he would be able to enter this place without his face bursting into a cherry-red blush from shame, and went to see where his date had taken his sister. He found them out by his car, the pouting child pinned firmly to the seat by her legs under Ichigo's strong hands, and Ichigo was very quietly but seriously lecturing her on the fairer points of good manners. He stood back and let the obviously more experienced man work.
After nearly ten minutes of lecturing, he got Nel to agree to apologize to the waitress, apologize to him, and agree to not do that anymore or she'd never get to go to nice places with her big brother again (surprisingly, that threat was more effective than anything Grimmjow had ever tried). Much later, the fiasco finally over with, Grimmjow asked how he had known what to do. Ichigo shrugged and told him he had two younger sisters that had learned all they knew about good and bad manners from him.
64. Land
"You cannot own the earth! It is our Mother and cannot be controlled by the likes of man. If you'd ever stopped to look you'd know that already." The redskin with strange orange hair was furious- he'd been repeating roughly the same thing for almost a day and still this white-skinned demon didn't understand! It probably didn't help that he had said demon tied to a tree and had taken all his weapons, leaving him at his mercy. The demon had the most interesting hair- blue the color of the sky on a cloudy day- and if Ichigo had been from a tribe that practiced scalping he would've been unable to resist that particular prize. Since he didn't, he settled for cutting a thick lock that hung over one ear (that he was surprised to find wasn't pointed) and tucking it into his amulet pouch. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that meeting this pale-face would have some marked significance later in life. The bound man seemed convinced that Ichigo was going to kill him so he didn't hesitate to argue with him about the most basic of things, including if it was possible to 'own' land. Giving up for the moment, Ichigo sighed and scratched his head, careful not to dislodge the three eagle feathers braided into his hair that marked him as the son of the Chief. It was nearing time for the evening meal, and if he didn't get back to the village they would worry over him, but he couldn't untie the white-skinned demon for fear of him stalking him and attacking the village. Still, demon or not, it was too cruel to leave him tied there to starve. "Big brother, big brother!" He was quick to turn and catch his youngest sibling, a toddler by the name of Kon. At five years old, his favorite words were "Big Brother" and his seemingly only activity was following his eldest sibling around. "You should not have followed me again, Kon," he scolded, "I was scouting. What if I had run into a Sioux band, or the Crow, where would you be? You're still too little to fight."
Though Grimmjow couldn't understand a goddamn word of the language that savage was speaking, he understood the gist of the scolding tone; that kid was not supposed to be here. Maybe it was his son? Sons tended to follow their fathers around even when they were supposed to stay put, as he remembered doing as a kid. The redskin looked rather young to be a father, but shit, savages got married at barbaric young ages so it was entirely possible. He wondered if he'd beat the kid. He'd probably find it hard to watch such a young boy be beaten and he'd be unable to stop struggling against the ropes if that happened- he could not stand child brutality, even from a red-skinned-devil-savage-barbarian. The kid reached up and yanked on his father's hair, the same distinctive orange as his, and though it had to hurt all the older male did was tilt his head to pull it from the little one's grip. The kid pouted, still getting scolded, and after a moment he perked up and asked something in that strange tongue. The bigger redskin sighed, then said something in reply very slowly and carefully and set the child on the ground. The kid gave a sharp nod and tore off through the forest, probably heading straight home, and Grimmjow couldn't help relaxing just a little. The savage (he knew his name but was refusing to use it) sighed again, this time much deeper, and ran a hand through his hair before grabbing his bow and arrows and disappearing into foliage, leaving no visible trail unlike his son. Still tied much too tightly to get free anytime soon, Grimmjow slumped against the ropes.
Ichigo returned later, carrying two rabbits and a small basket of herbs along with a clay pot. The basket itself was serviceable, made from the thick, tough reeds that grew near the riverbanks, and though he knew very little about edible plants, he could recognize a few and with the rabbits would be able to make a tolerable stew. He ignored that Grimmjow looked shocked to see him, the man's mouth hanging open, and quickly filled the pot with water and set to skinning the rabbits, keeping the skin carefully intact- Orihime, Ishida's wife, was expecting her first child soon and he wanted to give her a rabbit-skin blanket to wrap the newborn in. The bones were thoroughly cleaned of meat and set aside with the skin- a few would be made into leatherworking tools, and the smallest ones would go inside a rattle his sister was making, while the remaining ones could be fashioned into jewelry or extra tools that he could trade. The pot he'd borrowed from a cairn nearby in which some dried food and other useful things for the traveler or warrior on a mission could be found and would return when he was through, and worked more than well enough for the simple stew. Unsure of how to prepare the plants once the meat was in, he examined it from leaves to roots and sighed. He knew he couldn't just plop the whole darn thing in, but he wasn't sure which was the good part- the leaves, the stems, or the roots?
"The dark green one yer holding, what do ya call it?" A bit startled at the voice suddenly coming from behind him, as he was under the impression the white-skin was ignoring him, he nearly tore the plant in half. "Jalin. I think the man who taught us English called it 'basil'." The pale-face nodded. "Ya use the leaves o' that one. Roots 're bitter an' stem's too tough. Tearin' the leaves up first gives it more flavor too. What about tha' white bulb-root?" Tearing up the leaves, as he saw no reason for the demon to lie, he glanced at it before concentrating on putting the leaf bits in the pot. "Hihal. You call it 'garlic'." The man's nose wrinkled. "The bulb breaks up inta fragments. Strong stuff, so for a pot that size four of 'em oughta be enough. Crushing or cuttin' helps with those too." Finished with the jalin, he tore off four decent-sizes chunks of hihal and crushed each piece between the heels of his palms after peeling away the papery outer skin. "And the kigji? You call it 'onion'. The man who taught English gave us the seeds to grow them, so you must know what it is." The demon nodded, wincing again. "Also damned strong. Peel off the flaking skin until it's kinda firm an' almost crunchy, then ya gotta cut it apart, first in half and then inta slices. You'll only need onea those." Carefully following these instructions, he got a fairly well-sliced kigji in the pot and looking more and more like soup. He must've had too much water for it to be stew. Having recognized no other edible plant, he simply watched it boil and stirred it from time to time until after a few hours it looked and smelled too good to resist anymore. Scooping the soup carefully into his bowl and trying not to burn his fingers, he then brought it to his prisoner.
Setting the bowl to one side, he rocked slightly on the feels of his bare feet, worrying his lip with his canines. "If I untie you so you can eat, I think you will run away. If I free just one hand, then you can untie yourself. If you want to be fed, you will have to cooperate." The white demon was quiet a moment, the nodded his understanding and Ichigo picked up the bowl again. It was a little strange, how quietly the man accepted being spoon-fed like an invalid or a child, but since his stomach had been letting out irritated grumbles the Ryoka supposed hunger had won out over pride. Hunger and thirst usually did. When he finished, licking his lips, Ichigo noted that his stomach was still rumbling and fed him a second, third, and fourth bowl. After the fourth he sighed contentedly and smiled, just a tiny bit. "I've had enough. Thanks." Ichigo chuckled, scooping up a bowlful for himself as he went to sit nearby the white demon who, he had noticed during the feeding, looked less like a demon than a starved mountain lion. "I do have you tied to the tree. You can hardly hunt a meal yourself, and my tribe is not in the habit of starving people. Even the criminals are fed, and bathed, and given enough to drink."
For being so simple, it was quite good soup, and he made a mental note to tell the other hunters. They would be able to make it while out on the long journeys to find buffalo. The demon, he noticed, was watching him intently with confused eyes. Those eyes were something else, ethereal almost just like his hair, layers upon layers of blue that intermingled beautifully. "You treat me well even though I am your enemy. Why?" Ichigo chewed thoughtfully on a piece of meat. "Despite the scuffle when I jumped you and tied you up, you haven't actually hurt me, so I can't say I bear any more ill-will for you than I would for any other pale-faced demon. Since I have no particular grudge against you, why wouldn't I treat you well?" He became quiet then, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing, and Ichigo returned to his soup. The white-skin didn't seem inclined to be too argumentative for the rest of the night, more or less answering Ichigo's questions calmly and explaining his people's views on things that Ichigo did his best to correct (land could not be owned, women were not chaff nor broodmares, he was not a savage barbarian…). The shaman arrived in the morning, and after sharing a meal with the two he advised Ichigo that a large group of the demons was approaching the area and his prisoner could be released to them. The prisoner asked if one of them was wearing a creepy black-and-white mask and had yellow, rotting teeth, and on confirmation turned green and explained that they were who he'd escaped from. He wouldn't explain why he needed to escape them, so after a little more deliberation he went to their village.
Many months later Grimmjow left the village- his village- with the crow feathers of a brave in his lengthened hair, got snatched up by his five lieutenants who had been searching for him since he'd gone missing, and was promptly dragged back to England kicking and screaming. Quite literally. By the time he was able to return, the village had long moved and he thought they must've gone west, but since his lieutenants had come with him and dragged him back to the ship every time he tried to give them the slip, he was never quite able to find them. He did, however, find his bow and arrows wrapped in leather that had been rubbed with animal fat to make it more or less waterproof where the village had been, so they must've heard his warning that he was being taken and that they had to stay away. He smiled when he gathered those up, holding them close, because it meant he hadn't been declared a traitor and if he ever found the village again he would be allowed to return. It still boggled his mind that he had gained a whole new life and it all started with an argument over if it was possible to own land or not.
(No offense to any Native Americans who actually bother to read my stories is intended and I'm not even sure if the Sioux and Crow lived in territories close enough for them to cross paths with a third party, but I freely admit I'm too lazy to do research for a mere drabble so feel free to correct me and please know I am not being offensive on purpose if this does offend anybody. Also, Ichigo is part of a tribe that moves it's entire village every other year called the Ryoka and not any Native American tribe that ever actually existed, so I'm taking much artistic liberties with his culture. Again, no offense is meant. Further, any and all derogatory names for Native Americans were used solely for the sake of the story because that's how most settlers actually thought of them (stupid as that was) and were only for realism.)
65. Owner
At the moment, Ichigo Kurosaki was wondering, a little absently, if he was a masochist. First Zaraki, the wolf, then Renji, the monkey, then Byakuya, the horned menace (a gazelle, to be exact), Hitsugaya the dragon, and Stark, another wolf, before finally settling on this little nightmare. A goddamn panther. Not even a cub- cubs were manageable- this was a fully-grown MALE black panther. He was an endangered species for L'kik's sake, how the fuck had be come to be found badly beaten and unconscious on the side of the road? With a sigh, Ichigo collapsed into a chair, one hand dragging slowly through his short-cropped hair. He had, years ago, given his name and number to the animal shelter near his dad's clinic and offered whatever services they would need; if they called, he would help. Somehow, after his success rehabilitating that wild wolf Zaraki and making him adoptable, his name had gotten passed around to every shelter and animal hospital in the city and now when they got an impossible case like Zaraki's or Hitsugaya they sent them to Ichigo. And Ichigo, of course, was a bit of a soft hearted sucker, so he never said 'no'. A little restless at the moment, because the moment that panther woke up he was going to be an aggressive, territorial pain in the ass, Ichigo had just decided to go work off his energy in the training room when he heard something that scared him to death every time. "Master!" "Shit," he muttered, opening the door and letting the Bengal Tiger leap on him. Shirosaki, another rare and endangered species, had come to Ichigo on his own when he'd been jumped by slave traders and, though he'd managed to escape with his freedom, he had eight broken ribs, a fractured leg, a broken tail, and a torn-up arm that he had nearly lost to gangrene. It had been a minor miracle that he'd kept it.
He had, unfortunately, lost two fingers from his left hand and a chunk of muscle that hadn't quite grown back properly, making an oval indent that ran the length of his forearm. His worst injury wasn't he arm though- he'd suffered a hard, hard blow to the head that caused him to relapse back into kittenhood, when he'd been instructed by his mother that when he found someone he returned to even when beaten and bloody and bruised was someone he loved, and that would be his Master. He passed out during treatment, and when he woke up to Ichigo's concerned gaze he thought that meant Ichigo was his Master. Ichigo had patiently explained Shiro was a free man with no master at all, and cared for him diligently until he regained his memory and was healed enough to return to his home. Due to the permanent damage that had been inflicted Shiro occasionally relapsed again and would return to Ichigo's apartment door yelling for his Master at the top of his lungs, and every time Ichigo let him in and took care of him until the man regained his memory again. Closing the door again, Ichigo guided his friend to the couch and settled him there, hiccupping and sobbing. He stroked the soft ears, which flickered a little under the attention, and after a moment soft purring started fighting through the sobs until they stopped completely. When he was finally able to talk, Shiro looked up at him through teary golden eyes, the black around them making their tawny color stand out even more. "Master, M-Master…I've been bad. I was away from you, Master, I'm sorry!"
Ichigo sighed and hugged the hybrid to his chest, settling him so he could hear his heartbeat, which Shiro had always claimed calmed him. "It's okay, Shiro. What's the last thing you remember?" Sometimes his memory lapses would only lapse back to the last time he had regressed, but sometimes he would go back to a random time and be not only scared to be separated from his Master but confused as well. "We-we were making dinner, Master, an' ya were teachin' me t'sing…" Ichigo nodded- he'd have to play this off as when he had a 'blackout' to keep the poor man from totally freaking out. "Right, and I sent you out for more milk, do you remember? You must've had a blackout on the way to the store and forgotten." Shiro frowned but accepted this, sniffling a little. While he was in the middle of a regression, Ichigo couldn't tell him that what was happening so he referred to anything he couldn't remember as a 'blackout'. While not the best thing and he hated to lie, it suited his purpose- to soothe Shiro. After fifteen minutes more of reassurances that he was not mad and Shiro would not be punished, he got him settled and asleep on the couch. Straightening his back with several loud popping sounds and a sigh, he shoved one hand roughly into his hair. "I hope he gets his memory back soon," he muttered, "I enjoy his company and all but it's so creepy when he calls me Master. I'm too used to his true sarcastic, bitchy, rude personality." The hand in his hair coming down to pinch the bridge of his nose, he sighed again. "And I really, really hope he gets along with that panther."
Surprisingly, the next morning he woke quietly and undisturbed except for the mouthwatering smell of breakfast drifting through his little apartment. Between the coffee and the pancakes he could smell, the promise of good food drew him up and out of bed into the kitchen. It amazed him to see that both felines were eating peacefully at the table, and both perked when he walked in. "Mornin' King!" Ichigo laughed- the Bengal only called him 'King' when he was normal- and got himself some bacon and a few pancakes before drifting over to the coffee. "Good morning, Shiro. I take it you're feeling better?" The white man nodded, ears flicking happily. "Yep! By th'way, Grimmjow's one hell of a cat. Ya know he's a fighter?" Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. "That would explain the bruising, fractures, bleeding, and scars. How are you feeling today, Grimmjow?" The panther, licking some stray syrup off his hand, purred. Taking this as an answer (several of those he had worked with either did not know or refused to speak human tongues) the human sat down and dug into his food. Grimmjow stared at him for a moment, then meowed longingly, making Ichigo look up at him in surprise. Shiro chuckled and mewed something back, pushing the plate of bacon towards him and starting a flurry of conversation in Cat. Ichigo shrugged and went back to his meal.
Grimmjow, happily munching on the crunchy meat strips, swallowed and questioned the tiger again. "Why didn't you wait for the Master to eat? I always got beat if I didn't wait for Master Aizen to finish first, and no food." The other cat snorted, finishing off the strange flat cakes on his plate. "Ichigo-Master is different. He has to work for an odd human who makes him work at the strangest hours so he never knows when he'll be awake or asleep; he doesn't expect you or me to wait for him if he's been kept out all night and most of the morning because that wouldn't be fair. And though he never expects it, he always appreciates it when he finds a plate waiting for him in the fridge or the stove after he gets home. He told me once that it's nice to know someone cares about him." Around his bacon, Grimmjow frowned. "Don't you live here all the time to take care of him?" Shiro shook his head. "No, I have a different One, not Ichigo-Master, and he told me to go live and be happy with my Mate. I only visit sometimes to make sure he isn't starving himself on accident- he does that, you know. He'll come home so tired he just falls asleep on the floor and doesn't bother to eat. I tried to move back in, but he told me when he finds his One he'll be taken care of and in the meantime I ought to be with my One trying to get kittens." Grimmjow tilted his head. "How do you know your One?" Shiro yawned. "They smell amazing. The scent draws you in so you can't stay away from them- can't even keep your hands off them. You'd do anything to please them." The panther sniffed the white liquid in his glass that Shiro had called 'milk', and after flicking his tongue out to taste it decided it was possibly the best liquid he'd ever tasted. He gulped down the glass and licked his lips before answering. "Ichigo-Master smells…good."
Shiro nodded- Ichigo had always smelled good- and glanced at the man himself. "Good enough that you think he's your One?" Grimmjow shrugged. "Maybe. I'll see if he inspires me towards willing subservience. Am I allowed more milk?" Shiro got the jug and poured the other feline a second glass instead of answering. "Ya'll need more milk again soon, King. Grimmjow really likes it." Ichigo's reply came from around his fork. "I'll pick up some more next time I go out then." Grimmjow stared at him from over his half-drunk glass, eyebrows furrowing. "He is very accommodating to a mere pet. Is he usually this kind or is it an exception because I'm injured?" The Bengal shook his head, tone fond. "Yeah, he does this for everybody. It makes the strays feel bad about taking advantage of him so they start going to adoption agencies to look for owners, but he has no idea he's the entire reason lonely people looking for a nice pet are getting more and more strays off the street. It's kind of cute, actually. He would make a good owner, I think." That comment made Grimmjow go very, very still. "He doesn't already own a pet? Not even one?" Shiro shook his head, and after a moment the panther rose and went to nuzzle Ichigo, who jolted a little under the unexpected attention and blushed bright red when the hybrid spoke his first word of English to him. "Owner." A second later, he added, "Mine." After that, Ichigo was blushing too hard to even respond.
66. Belong (more or less sequel to the Hybrid music drabble, written to "Are You Happy")
Ever since it had gotten out that Ichigo knew who his life-mate was but hadn't approached them, the rumors of who it was were running wild. It had to be a Neko- his entire family were lizards but for him, so he would've never changed from a lizard to a Neko unless it was to match his mate. However, the young man was reaching the time limit to approach his mate; that is, he was turning back into a lizard again. Diamond-hard scales had already begun to sprout from his soft skin near his elbows, on his fingers and toes, and around his knees. His enticing cat ears were getting smaller by the day, and his tail had already turned fully scaled and was starting to thicken at the base into the whiplike tail lizards were known for. All in all, he was fast approaching the worst nightmare any of their kind could imagine- the fate of being mateless for the rest of his life, unless he found another who had given up on their mate to pair with. Even settling for a loveless union for the sake of children was a small nightmare in itself, one that very few survived. Worried for their friend, most of the group that loyally hung around Ichigo had started encouraging him to at least try; even if he was positive the other person wouldn't agree, it was better to try than to simply let his only chance at a happy future slip away from him.
During the noontime nap (there was a three-hour break from eleven to two during school to accommodate those hybrids whose natures required they sleep during daylight) Ichigo was on the roof, basking in the sun as he examined his hands. He had started to get protrusions that extended from each knuckle, his fingertips narrowing into even deadlier claws than he had possessed previously, and he could feel that the other teeth in his mouth were sharpening just like his canines. He would be fully back to being a lizard in a week, and lonely forever. He'd probably commit suicide after a couple years, five or ten at the absolute most. Curling up, he laid his chin on his hands and laid his tail along his side, the tip laying horizontally over his mouth. He had closed his eyes to soak up the sun when he heard the door open quietly, causing one ear to swivel towards the noise. He cracked open one eye to see who had decided to join the usual rooftop group, and was surprised to spy a particular aggressive panther hybrid picking his way delicately through the sleeping bodies towards Ichigo. When Grimmjow, one of the school's most notorious skirt-chasers and fighters, made it to the lizard-neko, he crouched down with a low growl. Ichigo raised his head and growled right back, though it was tainted with the dangerous rumble of a pissed-off predator. His animals were all mixed up so he had two voices as a result when he made an animal noise. Grimmjow hissed under his breath, quiet so as not to wake the hybrids sleeping peacefully all around them. "Why, you stubborn jackass? Why won't…?"
"Because I'll throw myself off this goddamn roof when you say no," Ichigo hissed furiously back, "I'm a Solitary, you bastard! I couldn't live through rejection!" That made Grimmjow draw back in shock, his tail bristling with alarm. Very few were unlucky enough to have only one life-mate, usually having at least two to choose from, and if a Solitary was rejected by that one mate they would immediately and unhesitatingly resort to suicide. It was, in some twisted way, an attempt to make the mate happier by removing themselves as a threat to any of the mate's other prospects. Grimmjow himself had five possibilities, and when he had noted that Ichigo's scent held that unusual sweetness he had discarded it as unimportant until he'd started to change. He'd never, ever known a hybrid could change back to their original species after changing to suit their mate at the start of puberty. Overwhelmed by the thoughts of his impending death, Ichigo buried his face in his hands and tried to hide the tears. Grimmjow hesitantly went to comfort him, but at the first touch Ichigo jerked back with a warning hiss. "Don't touch- I won't be able to stop myself. Just- just don't." Clutching his own hand close to his chest, Grimmjow was a little torn. He didn't particularly want to murder the young man in front of him, but he didn't want to watch him spiral slowly into depression, loneliness, and suicide either. At the same time, he had always preferred females to males, and if he accepted Ichigo to keep the boy alive he would be stuck with him for life.
"Don't concern yourself with me, Jaggerjack. I've never belonged anyway. I'll manage." As the lizard-neko dug his claws into the stone and climbed down the side of the building, Grimmjow couldn't help staring after him and wishing that the younger male hadn't sounded nearly so sure of himself nor so resigned when he said he'd never belonged.
67. Meow
Grimmjow thought that this might possibly be the most humiliating thing he had ever had to endure. When Ichigo had finally gotten fed up with Soul Society's mistreatment of him and defected, bringing seven (Fifth, Third, Ninth, Eleventh, Thirteenth, Fourth, and Sixth) entire divisions with him, he had immediately allowed himself to transform into an Arrancar and was named the Cero Espada. Now, as a…'present' to their new comrade and a punishment for Grimmjow (he'd mouthed off to Tousen again; ever since the man had mysteriously gotten pregnant his moods were entirely unpredictable and even a random comment could set him off at this point) the panther had been injected with something from Szayel to make him Kurosaki's temporary 'pet'. Whatever that concoction had been, Grimmjow now automatically obeyed any order he was given and couldn't speak except in meows, mews, hisses, purrs, and growls. Collared and leashed at the foot of Ichigo's bed, he couldn't help grumbling and hoped against hope that the man wouldn't abuse his newfound power. He already outranked him to the nth degree- taking advantage of this humiliation would be even worse. He heard the door open and quick, angry footsteps approaching, and then suddenly they stopped. He looked up to see Ichigo in the doorway to the bedroom, his eyes wide. After a moment, his lids dropped to half-mast and his tail began to flick from side to side angrily as he stomped over to where the leash had been tied and proceeded to first untie the knot and then unclip it from Grimmjow's collar. Tossing the long leather leash carelessly onto his table, his lip had curled as he growled.
"'Surprise waiting in my room' indeed. I suppose they mean me to humiliate you further by using your body for my own pleasures, sick fucks. One of these days they'll understand I don't condone such things." Grimmjow tried to express his confusion and gratitude, but only managed some rather pathetic-sounding mewls and one semi-demanding meow. Ichigo sighed, raking a hand through his own hair. "As I grew up human, I live by some of the most basic human laws; one of the most important of those is to never force another to share your bed unwillingly. Thus, anyone I bed is with me of their own free will." Grimmjow tilted his head, not quite understanding- was it a matter of pride? Did he want it willing as a matter of not needing force to get what he wanted? Hollows simply took what they wanted if they were strong enough to do so, and contrived to get what they wanted if they were too weak. He chirped in question (at least, it sounded vaguely like a chirp as it was such a short, sharp sound). Ichigo only shrugged uncomfortably and started fiddling with the collar, trying to see if he could get it off. "Call it pride, call it chivalry, call it respect for another living creature, whatever way you want to look at it, I cannot stomach rape." 'Rape'. It sounded like such a harsh, cruel word. It sounded…vicious. Curling his tail around his thighs, Grimmjow felt his ears slicking back to escape that brutal, unfamiliar word, and scowled down at the bone armor that covered his body. He'd lost his ability to seal his release form when he'd been injected and was stuck this way for now, probably to drive home the situation of him being a 'pet'.
Finding no way to undo the collar without it's key (which was safely in the hands of Aizen and would stay right where it was until he decided that punishment was over) Ichigo stood from his crouch and popped his back with his clawed hands. "Well, I need a shower. Feel free to do whatever you like, Grimmjow. I'll be back soon." When he suddenly realized he no longer felt compelled to kneel on the floor and wait for orders, Grimmjow realized Ichigo had given him an order- to do what he wanted. To act normal. Tired after a long day of humiliating orders that he could not disobey, he eyed the bed for a moment, decided it was big enough that Ichigo could get in if he wanted even with another body in it, and then proceeded to curl up under the covers. He woke up partially when another body slid in next to his and curled around him protectively, but he dropped to sleep immediately afterward. He woke up more fully some odd hours later, beginning to whine and whimper as he got suddenly overheated and started to feel his skin crawl. Those damned side effects were kicking in! Struggling to get out of Ichigo's protective hold, he stilled when he heard a dominant growl behind him that was essentially an order to settle down. He did, as best he could, but he couldn't help the twitches, whines, or occasional muscle spasms and after a few more minutes of his restlessness he felt his body being pulled on top of the younger man's. "Mew?" Ichigo snorted. "Mrrrow." Grimmjow felt his ears perk and he blushed deeply- Ichigo could speak his language? "Rrr-aow."
With a yawn, Ichigo licked his lips, including the teeth on what was left of his Hollow mask, before answering. "Mrrrmmm. Me-ew!" Grimmjow blushed darker and hesitantly began to disrobe the man under him. "Nyah? Mroooa." Ichigo stretched out beneath him, gently slid his jacket off and tossed it to the floor. "Mrroah. Nnnyah mew-l."
"MEEE~YOOWWW!"
That night, nearly every feline in Los Noches heard the roar of a panther claiming it's mate twined so closely with a lizard's hoarse scream that those who could understand either tongue couldn't say whose names were screamed.
A week later, Grimmjow's collar was removed because it was deemed unnecessary in light of the slowly-healing mating bite on his left shoulder; his mate would easily keep him in line.
68. Submission (Warning- DARK! Mentions of rape and mental disturbance!)
He knew that smell. He knew it like he knew his own scent, like he knew the scent of blood, like he knew the scent of his birth-mother. But it had been corrupted somehow, twisted into something almost entirely different and unrecognizable. He wasn't sure what, exactly, had happened, but he was damn well going to find out. He didn't like it- it made his hair stand on end and his lips pull back to bare his teeth, his eyes burning with anger and possessive protective instinct. Something had fucked up his prey, his goddamn PREY, and he wasn't going to tolerate that. He'd hunt down those worthless weaklings that dared to touch what was his and he'd rip 'em apart- but first…first he needed to tend to his prey. He had to set things right with what was his. Tracking the scent back to it's source, he noticed that the closer he got the more disturbing the scent became- almost like it was rotting and fouling from second to second. He found his target slumped in an alleyway, a pool of stank, rotten blood spread across the concrete below him and the bricks around him. He'd been there at least…Grimmjow's nose wrinkled, at least a day and a half. He was covered in bruises and cuts, signs of a recent fight, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was what else was hovering in the befouled air. Dark lust, tears, blood, fear, insane glee, pain, twisted pleasure, and the disgusting scent of sick satisfaction, he could smell it all in that little four-foot space. It was fresh. He knew that scent, too, better than he cared to admit since his own room had reeked of it for weeks until he'd become Espada.
He bent down to retrieve the unmoving body of his target, but as soon as he touched the wounded male the body jerked and shuddered, new fear-scent drenching the air but laced with something he'd never wanted from his prey. Submission. He knew he was too hurt to stand, much less fight, so even though he didn't want to be touched, didn't want to be hurt and forced again, he also felt he didn't have a choice and was submitting to the stronger force. It wasn't good that the boy was conscious still- if he'd been able to pass out then maybe he would've been less traumatized by the rape. Gathering the softly whimpering prey in his arms, he soothed the tensed young man as best he could with soft rumbles deep in his chest. He couldn't purr to reassure him, he was far too angry right now, so a gentle growl would have to do. And Ichigo Kurosaki, still submissive and frightened (and not quite sure what was going on, as he'd needed to remove his mind from his body to endure the horror of being raped repeatedly by five different, very large men) held on hard to the lapels of Grimmjow's jacket until he was forcibly taken from him by Urahara and Orihime for healing.
69. Tails (inspired by the picture titled "Finally Found You…" by BlackStorm on , full props to Storm for the wonderful artwork!)
He'd seen the human often. More often than other humans…even the ones that appeared to be from his pod (though Szayel swore they called it a 'family', which was the stupidest name for a pod he'd ever heard). He was memorable, one of the few vibrantly colored humans, an attractive orange that drew one to him. Any respectable merfolk knew damn well that the more vibrant, the more strong and intelligent and the better somebody was, and vibrant orange was passion and life in its purest form. The Pacific hadn't seen a vibrant orange anything in centuries- why did the humans have to lay claim to one so perfect? Grimmjow, a vibrant blue with a mane nearly the color of the sky on a sunny day, lamented this every time he saw that particular human. The best orange they'd seen recently had been a dull orange-red that had been so dark and dead-looking that it was the color of blood that wept from an infected wound. Worse, he was beginning to think he pined after that particular human. His scales were turning darker like others who pined for a mate that had died or rejected them, even if it was just a tiny change in shade, he could tell. His chances of finding a mate were already slim, but if he turned dark and dull he'd never find one. Blues like himself were renowned for their violent and possessive natures, though if they found their Destined they also became fiercely loving and protective. As it was rare for a blue, or any merperson, to find their Destined, it was thus very hard for a blue to find a mate willing to put up with his or her violence and possessiveness, which could sometimes lead to isolation of the mate and random outbursts.
Surfacing just enough to see the shore, as he often did, he was surprised to see his human- err, the human- on the beach and tossing a large, sharp-looking knife from hand to hand with a deeper scowl than usual. The boy never stopped scowling, not really, but this one seemed to have an edge to it that made warning bells start going off in Grimmjow's head. He didn't like that expression on that face, not at ALL. It made him think of how warriors must've looked going into battle when the different tribes of the Seven Seas had been at war before finally being united as one people under King Starrk. The blade began to twist and twirl in the air between hands, and his heart stopped because every time he was positive it was going to impale the hand it was headed for only for the handle to flip around just in time to be caught. It spun like a conch shell, like a…a…that one human tool that forced through things like an auger but it was a machine and went much faster- a drill! Finally, the human caught it and threw it into the sand, hard enough to sink it in down to the hilt. The metal blade itself was nearly as long as Grimmjow's hand, so that was a rather hard throw. Crouching down into the sand, his muscles bunching and writhing beneath his skin impressively, his head bowed and his hands sank into the mass and yanked at it. Grimmjow recognized that expression- it was one of wordless pain, grief, and confusion. It was how you reacted when you'd seen a relative die, or when something horrible beyond comprehension had happened and you just couldn't make yourself accept it. The merman wondered, his stomach flipping, if the human was contemplating suicide. What horror could make a bright orange lose his zest for life?
A flick of his strong tail brought him closer to shore, nearly beaching him in the shallows and he knew his body would be highly visible in the clear, sun-kissed water, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed to touch that boy, convince him to keep living, prove he wasn't an apparition on the wind before the human was gone for good. Humans were mortal and not immortal like merfolk, after all. Abruptly, the young male planted both hands on the sand to steady his crouched form and he looked up, eye-to-eye with Grimmjow and a snarl on his lips, his pupils pinpricks in a sea of deadly tawny. He obviously wasn't seeing Grimmjow or the beach, but something else, something horrible. Grimmjow decided he really, really didn't like that look on his human and splashed him to wake him from his waking terror. The teen shook his body like a wet dog, spluttering and spitting out curses, and Grimmjow couldn't help laughing at the other's absolutely dumbfounded expression. Apparently, his pod and other companions weren't prone to such measures nor playfulness with him. Raising an eyebrow, he watched the human look him over, head to tail-tip, and fluttered the base of his tail fin in the water to make it swirl prettily (though traditionally used as a move to attract the attention of a potential mate, in this case he told himself he just wanted to see the expression of shock and surprise in the human's eyes). He hadn't been expecting the slow smile that overtook the human's scowl or the tawny softening into a welcoming honey color. He'd only seen honey once, when some humans had brought some to a beach picnic, but he remembered it clearly.
"I always thought I'd seen you out there, hiding between the waves," he said softly, "but you disappeared so quickly, I could never be sure. It's good to know I'm not as insane as they want me to think I am." Grimmjow blinked a few times confusedly, then scowled as hard as the human usually did, eyebrows snapping together angrily. "Why in the hell would they wanna make ya think yer crazy? Ain't bein' crazy bad fer humans?" The orange-haired male laughed, and it was a sound so beautiful Grimmjow could feel it rippling over his skin like the purest waters of the Antarctic. "I can see the spirits of the dead, but other than my family, nobody believes me. They want to throw me into an insane asylum to 'cure' me so they're trying to make me think I'm crazy so I'll let them commit me." Grimmjow scowled. "Oranges don't do well in cages, everybody knows that! Are they trying to kill you? You would do better in open water and alone." Reaching forward to thread his fingers though the blue hair, his human smiled again, but it was sad. "Humans are stupid. They think anyone can survive and live happily in a cage, as long as they don't tell them it's a cage. They think I'm stupid. And there's one bastard, Aizen…he wants me broken. Broken, insane, medicated to within an inch of my life, and easy to control." Grimmjow's mouth opened without his permission. "I oughta take ya inta the water with me. It don't seem the humans ya been with 're any good fer ya."
"Humans drown underwater," the boy reminded him bluntly, a slight chuckle in his voice. Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably, very aware that he would have to be careful with what he said next or he'd scare the human away. "There's something, some sort of spell of potion, that I've heard can make a human into a merperson or a merman into a human. It's…really, really expensive though, an' I think ya can only take it once. If ya try t'take it again ta change ya back, it poisons and kills ya. 'Course, that's just what I've heard…" His tail flicked and he blinked. "Aw shit, I just realized- we don't even know each other's names. I'm Grimmjow." The human tugged a little on the hair he still held as he pulled his hand free. "I'm Ichigo. Pleasure to meet ya." Ichigo stuck out his hand, and Grimmjow stared at it for a moment or two before remembering that humans shook hands sometimes and then gingerly taking the offered hand to give it a firm shake. Funny custom, but he supposed they had to do something other than touching tails seeing as they didn't have tails. Curious about his human, his Ichigo, he decided to start asking questions. They questioned and quizzed each other for hours, learning as much as they could about the world of the other straight up until the sun set. They had to separate then, as Grimmjow's pod would be looking for him and Ichigo said he had to run. From what, the merman didn't know, but he was reluctant to ask. There were certain subjects that Ichigo danced around, like when Grimmjow could see him again or why Aizen wanted him hurt and subjugated.
Strangely, Grimmjow did not see Ichigo again for many moons. Usually no more than a quarter-moon passed between his visits to the water, so this worried him. He checked the beach every day, faithfully awaiting his human friend's return, and it came only after almost twelve moons and the seasons had cycled all the way through fall and winter and spring back to summer. His scales had darkened from their original ice-blue to a deep navy, to his supreme humiliation, but seeing long sunset-orange hair made him perk for the first time since he had watched his Ichigo walk away from the shore. "Ichigo!" He resisted adding 'mate' to the name; he hadn't even expressed his interest yet so that would be highly inappropriate. The man smiled, though he didn't look nearly as good as he had last year. "Hi, Grimmjow. Your color changed- what happened? Did your mate die?" Grimmjow winced. "No, no, he just left for a long time. I haven't proposed yet…hell, I ain't even told him I think he's my Destined yet. Enough about my not-even-almost-mate, what happened to you? I've never seen your ribs like I do now, and you're taller but not broader like you should be from growing." Ichigo waved dismissively. "A year in an institution will do that to you. They hardly ever feed you there, at least not enough to fatten you up. You were right, by the way, I'd be much, much better off in open water alone. Drowning would be much nicer than the things they did to me in that place." Grimmjow shivered, despite the warmth of the water and the air. He did not want his Ichigo to die.
"Please don't drown." Good Poseidon, did that whimper just come out of his mouth? From Ichigo's raised eyebrows, it had. "I don't want to lose my Destined for good." And had he just admitted that Ichigo was his Destined without any warning? The slow smile curling Ichigo's lips said that he had done exactly that. A little alarmed by the hungry look on his face, Grimmjow backed up some but it was hard to do in the shallows and Ichigo just followed, getting closer and closer to him. Were the legends true and humans really did eat mermen that had dared to come to shore? A hand slid into the back of his long hair, Ichigo dropping to his knees in the shallow water and bringing their mouths together. Unfamiliar with this…practice, he didn't even know the name for this thing they were doing, Grimmjow grabbed onto his human for dear life as stars exploded in his head, behind his eyes and blotted out his vision like he'd been caught in a fast current and slammed his head hard on a rock. Ichigo's tongue was in his mouth he and could taste and feel EVERYTHING and he was so, so glad his gills were still submerged so he could use them to gasp for breath without needing to break apart from this wonderful bursting-open type of pleasure. The teen didn't release him until almost five minutes later, when both of them were thoroughly breathless. He couldn't stop licking his lips- he could taste the human there, everything he'd ever wanted and dreamed of, and it was arousing him beyond belief. "Wh…" lick. "Whaddya call that?" Ichigo grinned, hands still buried in his sky-blue mane. "A kiss. That's called 'kissing'. Specifically, French kissing because tongue was involved." Grimmjow growled and wrapped his hands around Ichigo's shoulders from the back, using the reverse-grip to haul his body up and closer to the human and ignoring it when his biceps brushed the other's armpits. "I want more of that."
Ichigo helped to support his body weight, one hand skimming down his back to grab on just below where his waist and tail met and pulling forward to transfer his balance while the other hand fastened to the back of his neck while the orange-haired male licked at the merman's tanned skin. "Do you want more kissing, Grimmjow, or do you want… more?" The fishtailed man's mind flashed back to the day almost a year ago that Ichigo had explained human mating and how the bodies came together; he felt something in his belly clench. "More, Ichigo, more of you, I want it all." Ichigo smiled down at him, then his second hand joined the first at his waist area and ran a thumb over where flesh and scale met, sending jolts through his entire body and making him feel oddly hot all over. "Then you'll have it all. But first you'll need to let go of my shoulders so I can get my clothes off." The merman complied immediately, watching with his chin propped on his crossed arms while his human discarded his 'clothes'. It was surprisingly enticing to watch his Destined bare himself for him in more than the emotional sense, considering he thought clothes entirely unnecessary in the first place. Still, he admitted it made him hotter to watch his mate peel them from his lithe, muscled form and drop them carelessly to the sand.
The hotter he got, the more he was starting to notice a vague itch on his tail, just a little ways down from where his muscled abdomen faded into his tail on the front, perhaps half a hand's width. Originally he had guessed he had sand in his scales, but this was almost starting to distract him from watching Ichigo and it was getting worse. He completely forgot about the itch in the next two seconds, however, when Ichigo came back to him naked as the day he was born, turning him on his back to straddle his powerful hips. Ichigo's dick was just as healthy a peach as the rest of his glowing skin, dripping clear fluid and the head was very, very red. Grimmjow hoped that meant they were equally aroused. Their lower bodies submerged in the water, Grimmjow had a stray thought that he hoped he didn't get sand in his gills before Ichigo's mouth and more, his hands came down upon him and as he kissed Grimmjow to within an inch of his life, hands roaming everywhere, and after that the merman couldn't think at all except to touch back. Once mouths started roaming after the hands, Grimmjow was driven to absolute distraction by that wicked mouth and those teeth and that tongue that just had to be illegal somewhere; he kissed and licked and bit and sucked at the one above him just the same to keep the boy just as hot and bothered as himself. The human was sucking at one nipple and was tweaking the other one with his fingers when something happened that made Grimmjow gasp loudly and clutch his Destined to him for dear life, body arching uncontrollably.
The place where the itch had been suddenly turned cold and wet, and in seconds he realized what it was- his opening. Everything you needed to know about a merman could be told in the tail, depending on color and fins and scale shape and tail shape and the like; Grimmjow had the distinctive extra tail fin where the human 'butt' was that marked him as a Bearer. A Bearer was, as the name implied, able to bear young, and all of them had an opening in their tail that would allow them to become pregnant. The opening would not open, however, unless one of two needs were met- they came into contact with their Destined and became mated to them, or they became unbearably aroused. In this case, his Destined was making him unbearably aroused while preparing to mate him, so there was really no way he couldn't open up to receive his mate. The water had rushed in and startled him, and now Ichigo was exploring the smooth opening in his scales with his fingers curiously, making him shudder and hold him tighter. He was making sounds he didn't even know he could make as the warm fingers stroked and probed his insides, and he could feel his body getting hotter with every second until he arched again with a scream and his belly tightened and convulsed. Ichigo's expression turned delighted and he sank his two fingers in to the last knuckle, prolonging what had to be Grimmjow's first orgasm (he'd heard about it from his mated friends, but he'd never believed them when they said it was like fireworks in their hip region- now that'd he'd had one he had to say that was quite an understatement) as he murmured against his cheek. "You've gotten all slick inside."
Grimmjow didn't have anything to say to that, only blushing deeply and nodding a little, feeling his opening squirm and clamp down on the invading digits. He was aroused to the point where he couldn't actually speak anymore and he wanted Ichigo to join with him. He wanted it so bad it ached. He let out a low cry that demanded his mate take him, rightthefucknow, and he was not disappointed. It took only a moment and he was suddenly full of hot, hard flesh, head slamming back as he actually screamed with ecstasy. Holding tightly to his Destined as hard as he could, he whimpered as he adjusted to the feeling of stretching open around that burning intrusion inside him. It wasn't really a bad feeling- just very, very different. And it was hot, it was so hot and hard and long and thick and it hurt but it hurt so fucking good. He had never really wanted a child, never really cared if he ever conceived one, but right now he wanted with all his being to bear this man a babe. And he'd never manage unless he was filled with that fertilizer, which meant Ichigo would have to move. He was almost scared to ask for such a thing, though. He feared he might go delirious with pleasure. After a few more moments of shuddering, clenching, and whining, Ichigo murmured in his ear. "You okay?" Grimmjow nodded- he was fan-fucking-tastic right now and did not want his mate to withdraw- and his human chuckled, hot breath rolling down the merman's neck. "Good, 'cuz I can't stand not moving anymore." Grimmjow's eyes went wide but he didn't have any time to respond before Ichigo moved and he couldn't help it this time- he sang. Siren's Song is supposed to be the most deadly of songs that can be heard by the human male, however, the uncontrollable, instinctual call of a Mersong was far, far stronger and a thousand times more deadly. The Song would attract only one person, but with all the force of the magic of the merfolk; it called your mate to you with such strength that half the time they killed themselves on the way. Humans drowned themselves, and merfolk would swim themselves to death, not stopping to eat, rest, or sleep until they found what they sought.
In this case, Grimmjow's mate was already beside him, inside him, so while it was not particularly dangerous it would drive Ichigo to officially Bond him and Mark him in his passion. This was Grimmjow's greatest desire, of course, but it felt wrong to basically force Ichigo to Bond him- Bonding sounded a bit like human 'marriage' except since you could only Bond with your Destined mate there was no 'divorce'. Once you were Bonded, you shared your life (literally, combining your life spans) with your Mate. Now, all this guilt and feeling of wrongness only lasted a split second after he sang, because Ichigo gave a particularly hard, deep thrust and wiped his mind blank of all but the pleasure again. Clinging as tightly to his mate as he was, and beginning to undulate his tail and hips for more friction (because goddamn it, it all felt so amazing but something in his secretions made him itch and only going faster seemed to soothe it), he couldn't miss when Ichigo moved his mouth from the sensitive spot behind his ear to his jaw, his pupils dilated as he snarled breathlessly, "Mine." Instinct compelled him to answer. "Yours," he agreed on a gasp, his entire body shuddering when Ichigo knocked against something inside him that send those stars exploding behind his eyes again. Sucking, licking, and nipping his way over Grimmjow's jaw, neck, and upper chest, Ichigo growled again, a note of insistency in his tone, "Mine." A little confused, Grimmjow agreed again, "Yours." His mate nipped a little harder, then gave the side of his neck a hard suck that somehow made his body shiver and clench tighter around him. "Mine," he said again, something pleading in his voice now, and finally the merman understood. "Mine!"
A wide smile curled the human's lips that Grimmjow could feel against his skin. "Yours," he purred, slowing his previous pace so he could thrust deeper, which hit that spot again that had Grimmjow almost in convulsions, over and over again with every thrust. He could feel his inner muscles fluttering around the hot flesh in him, and when he came again he clamped down so hard Ichigo could no longer move and stayed, lodged deep in him. His hand skimmed down his human's spine to grab his ass, and his fingers slipped into the crack and pressed something his found there- a opening like his own, it felt like. It seemed the unexpected pressure was all it took to bring Ichigo to his limit and he let out a strange sound the blunet couldn't identify, shuddering and shaking and growling and gripping his mate to him so hard he left bruises. As Grimmjow reveled in feeling the wet heat fill his insides, he sank his teeth into the bare shoulder above him and felt answering teeth in his own. He felt the child take, felt his pregnancy start, and purred contentedly. He opened his eyes when he heard an exclamation of surprise, and found something he'd never expected- Ichigo's legs had disappeared in a whirl of tanned skin and he now had a tail! Orange, it was triple-toned with red and yellow markings; the most royal of royal tails, and this was his mate! Ichigo looked a little surprised, but not dismayed or alarmed, so Grimmjow took it as a positive sign and started dragging him into deeper waters. When questioned, he gave his mate a wild grin and groped the front of his tail where he knew the male's penile slit was hiding. Ichigo also had the Bearer's Fin, but Grimmjow could explore those delicious possibilities later, right now he wanted something else. "You've showed me how a human mates, beloved, and now I'll show you how merfolk do it." After all, everything important about a merperson involved the tail, so he needed to get Ichigo used to his.
70. Child
Ichigo was a quiet child, prone to hiding behind his mother's skirts both outside and inside the house, doe-eyed and shy beyond shy despite being nearly seven. Though he no longer sucked his thumb, he would chew on his knuckles to keep his mouth occupied so he didn't have to talk. As shy as he was, he loved going to the park with his mom just to watch, insisting that he didn't need to play. Masaki could tell he wanted to, but since other kids always made fun of his hair he never dared try to contact them directly. One day, watching the others, he was surprised when the skirt fabric he was hiding behind (he rarely left their protection while outside the house) rustled and moved before a head of bright blue hair popped out directly into his vision. Startled, he feel backwards onto his butt with a squeak of surprise, eyes wide and his hand out of his mouth for once. The other boy, who looked to be around Ichigo's age, watched him cautiously. "Ya 'kay?" The smaller boy, eyes still taking up half his face, nodded quietly, raising his hand to his mouth so he could start chewing the base knuckles of his hand, breaking the skin almost immediately. The newcomer tilted his head to the side, obviously confused by Ichigo's silence, and came forward to crouch in front of the other boy. "I'm Grimmjow," he said warily, "I saw yer hair an' wanted t'come meet ya." Ichigo tilted his head as well, giving his mother a quick glance before letting his knuckle out from between his teeth. "I's Ichigo," he murmured quietly, reaching up to hesitantly pat the bright sky-blue mane of the other. "Ya gots purdy hair, like th'sky." He seemed like he wanted to say something more, but instead just put his red, swollen knuckle back in his mouth. Grimmjow, being a very proud boy, was a little offended that Ichigo though he was 'pretty' instead of 'cool' or 'handsome' like his Ma and Pa, but he'd figured out Ichigo couldn't talk very good so he let it go.
"Yers is warm, like a sunset. I like it." Ichigo blushed darkly, then mumbled around his knuckle, "I like yers too." Grimmjow grinned at the cute little boy, taking one of his hands to pull him up. "Cummon, I wan' ya ta meet my Ma." Three hours later Grimmjow had become extremely fond of the silent companion he had already vowed to speak for since the boy hated to talk himself and was practically glued to the smaller male's side. He had also announced to both his mother and Ichigo's that when they grew up he was "gonna marry his Ichi", which no matter what arguments they made, neither adult could dissuade him from. Ichigo, when questioned, actually took his hand out of his mouth and announced in a completely deadpan tone, "I'mma marry Grim." That tone brooked no argument and both women resolved to give up until the pair had grown up a little more. They were just children after all, they couldn't know the seriousness of getting married.