71. Morning
There was nothing Grimmjow enjoyed more than watching the baby shinigami wake up. The kid was so innocent, it was unbelievable- he always woke up slowly, blocking an attack from his sire (humans called it a 'father') before rolling over and stretching luxuriously and waking himself a little at a time. He never even bothered to sense the surrounding area for threats, and it fascinated Grimmjow how defenseless Kurosaki was when he woke up. It wasn't anything like how Hollows slept, always alert and with one eye open, and that intrigued Grimmjow. He became a regular at Ichigo's house around six, just watching the human's morning routine.
Hips (a prequel to Gargoyle)
The day Ichigo had come stomping up into the aerie with his mane literally bristling from discomfort and outrage, none of the Clan was quite brave enough to approach him. He was the strongest warrior among their ranks, and none dared approach him when his temper was so foul but for the Leader and Second-In-Command. In one of the middle generations, he would never harm the children of his rookery sisters and brothers (he had no mate and thus none of the eggs had been his, though by Clan reckoning children belong to the whole of the clan and he was by that reckoning as much their father as any of his rookery brothers) but he was intimidating, even for a Gargoyle. Though his body was sinewy and lean, lithe and incredibly flexible, his talons and claws were large and strong, his tail thick and whiplike and his horns hard, heavy, and sharp where the points swept outward from his cheekbones, similar to the horns of a longhorn steer. His muscles were not the gentle ones of his siblings- even the red-maned rookery brother that sparred with Ichigo most often were not as pronounced as those of the orange-maned male. Clambering up the side of the castle's first defensive wall, the warrior's jaw was set in that particular way that meant anyone that approached him, Gargoyle or not, could expect to be verbally and quite possibly physically ripped to pieces. Upon reaching the top of the parapets, he threw back his head and roared a battle cry, his wings unfurling with a sharp snapping sound before he leapt into the open air and caught an updraft, darting away like a devil was on his heels.
Nursing a clawed cheek, bitten hand, and dislocated shoulder, Grimmjow had been very, very confused as he ascended to the aerie after Ichigo, and after watching him glide off, he turned to the red-haired rookery brother that looked almost as confused as he felt. "What the hell didja do t'him? He usually wouldn' harm a human for th'life of 'im," the large Gargoyle said softly, "an' 'specially not you. Yer the human he likes an' trusts th'most." The blue-haired man scratched his head with his good hand. "I guess I musta insulted 'im- I din't mean ta, but I musta. Where I came from, ya compliment people all th'time, even if ya don't like 'em, ta be polite. The more personal an' thoughtful compliments, however, are saved fer close friends an' people yer close to, like how Ichigo is to me. When I talked to th'Mage after Ichigo worked me over, he said tha' personal comments are insulting…woulda been nice t'know that before I commented offhand that I think Ichigo's got nice hips." The tribal-marked Gargoyle tilted his head in confusion. "That kinda comment is insulting, but what I wanna know is why you'd think it in the first place." Grimmjow pressed a hand to his cheek to stem the mild bleeding and winced. "He likes usin' his tail 'cuz it makes such a good weapon, and because of that an' his height that makes his hips the center of 'is power. If yer watchin' his hips close enough, ya can almost predict what he'll do an' react to it in time. When I figured that out, I started spendin' a lot of sparrin' time watchin' his hips move, an' after a couple weeks I started noticin' they're pretty nice hips. Stare at anythin' long enough an' ya start noticin' all the little details. Ichigo's hips are strong and heavy, bu' they're also graceful and sorta pretty, like the way women's are after they get married an' actually start usin' those muscles."
His blue brows drew together then, mouth twisting downward in a frown. "Hey, do ya think maybe he was so pissed 'cuz he thought I was sayin' I thought his hips were girly an' thus insultin' him by sayin' he looks like a girl?" Tapping his tail thoughtfully, the gray-skinned Gargoyle stroked his neck with the back of a talon. "Yeah, probably. When we were hatchlings, he was one of the scrawniest of our brood, and even the elders sometimes mistook him for one of the females. Even after he grew to be so big and powerful, he's real sensitive about that sorta thing and takes offense at any comment that even might imply him looking like a female." Nodding, Grimmjow looked at the sky to measure how close it was to dawn. Too close- by the time Ichigo got back, he'd immediately have to take his place to sleep. With a sigh, the guardsman turned to descend the steps. "I'll be back at dusk t'apologize, since it looks like he'll be stone s'fast I can't do it tanight." He made his way towards the infirmary, damning his own preferences for males that had made him open his mouth to say that comment about his best friends' and Gargoyle protectorates' all-too-beautiful body. It also probably didn't help that he'd called those hips 'pretty' and 'perfect sized'.
72. Sting (Romance Universe, sequel to Promise)
Grimmjow couldn't say he hadn't expected it. He deserved it, certainly. He just hadn't quite expected it coming from his son rather than his former lover. He had to admit though, he'd really prefer to have been belted one in the face- being slapped stung and burned. It had taken him forty hours of driving back roads with no sleep to even find someone willing to talk to him about Ichigo, and another two days to convince somebody to tell him where the doctor lived. Another three days to drum up the courage to actually face the man he'd let go, and at last he'd arrived, only to find out he had a bastard son who had become the adopted son of his former lover and this adopted son was every bit as possessive and protective as Grimmjow himself. Knocked onto his ass on the doorstep of Ichigo's house (his kid had an arm on him), the blue-haired rock star didn't even try to get up, shoulders slumped. Wincing, he frowned up at the teenager and blinked. "I know I don't deserve ta even see 'im. I just wanted t'say sorry…an' a whole lotta other things, but mainly sorry." Cerulean blue eyes just like his own stared back at him, the lip underneath the chiseled nose curled in contempt. "Do you even know what the fuck you did you him you son of a bitch? He screams at night still. Since I've been living with him, I have never known a night when he didn't have nightmares except when he's drunk off his ass. And it's your fucking fault. You'll only hurt him more if he sees you or talks to you or even hears you were here, so I'm keeping you the fuck away from him." Grimmjow felt something in his chest go tight. He couldn't imagine Ichigo, his Ichigo, screaming in pain or fear in his sleep from the memories, but he believed this punk when he said it.
He finally rose, dusting off the seat of his pants. "I'm a fuckin' idiot, but I'm a fuckin' idiot who's still in love with the man he pushed away. At least lemme beg fer his forgiveness." The kid- Jackal?- pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. "He'll forgive ya. He always forgives; an' that's the problem! Ya don't deserve forgiveness from him!" Grimmjow wanted to argue, but found he had nothing to combat that statement because quite frankly, it was absolutely true. He was a complete bastard and didn't deserve forgiveness- but he selfishly wanted it anyway. Of course, when he said this out loud he was promptly chased off with a shotgun, making him feel like a teenage boy returning his first date back to her house an hour after curfew. He found himself in a bar after that, but he didn't even get a chance to order before he was back on the floor, on his ass, his already red cheek stinging all over again. "How dare you," seethed the man above him, an unfamiliar red-head, "how dare you even show your face anywhere Ichigo could see you!" "Stop it, Renji," Grimmjow's heart stopped at that familiar voice, "it's not his fault. He always goes drinking when he feels overwhelmed. Something must've happened with the band." The rock start swallowed hard, braced himself, and looked. There he was, in all his careworn glory. He had lines around his mouth and around his eyes that Grimmjow never thought he'd see, stress lines with not a laugh line in sight. His voice had a smoker's rasp, though no cough, and eyes he had always remembered as soft and welcoming were hard and distant. They were also tinged with pain right at this moment, and the blue-haired man felt his heart twist. He had caused that pain.
That stung more than anything else. "I'm sorry." Oh shit, ohshit his mouth was starting to run without his permission, verbal vomit he couldn't control like a milder version of Tourrette's. "I've missed you so much and ever single day I can't stop kicking myself for fucking up what we had, what we would still have if I hadn't been such a stupid goddamn bastard and screwed it up and broke your heart. I've been on tours in every fucking country looking for you and when I saw you last week I just about went outta my head. I wanted to jump off that goddamn stage and sweep you up in my arms and take you back to Japan with me, I wanted to bring you back into the VIP rooms and lavish you with gifts and apologies until I was blue in the face, get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness for being such a scared, prideful idiot. I loved you and I was fuckin' terrified to admit it so I just drove you away and that tortures me every second I've been looking for you. I'm still in love with you, stupid as it is, and all this time I've been praying that maybe, if I grovel and beg and apologize and pay for all the shit I put you through that you might consider giving me another chance. I can't stop thinking that I owe you, so much, and I…tell me what to do. Whatever you want, whatever you say, I'll do it, give it, anything, please!" He had, like he'd said, gotten onto his knees, head bowed as he held one of the doctor's hands in both of his own; to his horror he found tears were dripping down his nose to land on their hands. They stayed that way for a few moments, Grimmjow sobbing softly but getting louder as he took the silence as a bad sign, until there was a slight tug and slim fingers grasped his chin to tilt his face up. "As far as I'm concerned," Ichigo whispered, "there was never anything to forgive. It was my own fault I got hurt, sticking around for so long and never saying anything to you. No reparation needed."
Grimmjow was beautiful, even with his eyes swollen and red, tears streaming down his face, his throat working as he cried. He had started to cry harder, probably thinking that Ichigo had refused his offer to get back together, and the doctor smiled at him gently. "Come on, Mr. Famous Rock Star, let's get you home. My son won't be happy to see you, but we've got some things to discuss and I'd rather not do it in a bar with everybody listening. I'm kinda famous around here, you know- the gossip mills will have a field day with this." Grimmjow followed him like an obedient puppy, perked at the possibility that he might be allowed to get back with his beloved, studiously ignoring the persistent sting in his cheek.
74. Pride (takes place after "Romance" and before "Promise")
After Ichigo had left town, Grimmjow had done a little digging. His little lover (yes, he was secure enough with his own feelings to admit he'd fallen just as much in love with the fucker as Ichigo had with him) had deliberately held off earning his full doctorate because he would've been required to leave the city to take up a position at a hospital halfway across the country. When Grimmjow left, there had been nothing holding him back anymore. He'd never expected that the intelligent intern was so attached as to stall his career, but now that he actually thought about it, it sort of made sense. Ichigo had been in love, and as he put it, forcing himself to be content with whatever Grimmjow had been willing to give at the time. If he had moved away, would Grimmjow have followed? No, probably not, with how determined he was not to get attached to the young man. Of course, if he ever found him again (which was unlikely because Ichigo was one of those kind souls who would move to Africa and then become accepted within the native communities because that's how he is and that's what he does) he would chase him to the ends of the Earth if necessary, but that didn't change the fact that he would've staunchly denied himself and Ichigo back then. Leaning against the bar, he downed another shot of the strongest liquor this place sold and damned the man he'd been that had withdrawn from the love of his life out of fear three years ago and damned the foolish pride that had kept him from realizing that he was stupid-in-love until it was too late to fix his mistake.
75. Flexible
Grimmjow's inherent flexibility had always fascinated Ichigo, even before they'd begun their sexual relationship. Currently, he had the feline bent around like a pretzel as he licked him all over, savoring him. Shortly afterward, he was bent around similarly while Grimmjow did illegal things to his body using a surprisingly rough tongue. Later, when both lay sated and boneless on the mattress, he commented to Grimmjow that he loved his flexibility. The panther looked at him like he'd spit out a rainbow-colored rabbit and snorted. "Yer more flexible than I ever been, shinigami… an' in more ways that one." Ichigo blushed, stammered something that made no sense in any language, and buried his burning face in the Espada's neck while the bigger man laughed his ass off.
76. Play
"C'mon, shinigami," the Arrancar whined, "don't be like that! I just wanna play!" Ichigo gave him a level deadpan stare. "Bullshit. You want us to try to kill each other and I just don't have the energy today," he stated flatly, dark bags beneath his eyes showing the truth of this statement. Grimmjow, in his released form at the moment, splayed his hands out wide to bring his torso lower, his ass in the air and his tail flicking. Though it made him wince, it was a innocently playful pose that almost any creature could understand he had energy to burn, dammit- stupid as he felt doing this, he was willing to if he could get the Soul Reaper to play. "Just a little wrestling, then I'll leave you alone, I promise," he wheedled, though he had no intention of letting the younger male go until they'd played at least five different games. He saw the kid hesitate, considering, then he turned and threw his sword to the side. "Alright, Grimmjow," he sighed, "I'll play."
Three hours later, they both collapsed onto the teenager's bed, out of breath but grinning like loons. "Just wrestling, huh Grimmjow? God, you're such a liar." Grimmjow laughed. "But you liked it." Ichigo snorted. "Damn straight. We'll have to play more often."
77. Reject
Sucking on a cigarette, face set in his usual thunderous scowl, Ichigo Kurosaki was rather pissed off. His application to work for the prestigious Shinigami Inc, a famous art company that sold art work at galleries all around the world, had just been denied. He hadn't even asked them to sell his own artwork; he'd been applying to be an assistant so he could arrange galleries and catalogue and shit. He was qualified- more than qualified, in fact- but they'd denied him just because his record had some assault charges from thugs that had jumped him that he'd beat the shit out of. It had been self-defense! Carelessly grinding the butt out on his own collarbone, which bore dozen of scars from other cigarettes, he exhaled through his nose, looking like an angry dragon, and started to stalk back to his little shit apartment. He could take this out on the block of Maplewood he had left over from his most recent life-size (a dragon of ice he'd named Hyoninmaru). "Oi! You Ichigo 'King' Kurosaki?" He paused, looking over his shoulder to see a blue-haired Greek God of a man standing behind him, hands shoved in his pockets. "That's m'artist handle, yeah. I don't do commissions, if that's what yer lookin' for." The man chuckled, raking a hand through his hair. "No, no, I know betta. Men like you don't sell their souls. You need a job, right? My boss wants ya, as an artist an' an assistant." Ichigo turned around fully now, rummaging for a new cigarette. "What's yer gallery? I've been rejected by the Shinigami, so if yer anywhere near their level ya'll probably wanna walk away now." The man grinned, tossing the artist a fresh pack of his favorites (an expensive foreign brand called "Newport") and a lighter. "My boss is the owner of Las Noches, and he wants ya ta run one of the Espada branches. Mine, specifically- Sexta galleries. Those stupid Shinigami may have turned ya down, but we know yer goin' places." Lighting up, Ichigo breathed out a cloud of smoke, then smirked. "Sure. As long as I git th'chance ta shove this rejection in those Shinigami's faces, I'm all fer it. Let's go, Adonis."
78. Sweet
It took very little time for Ichigo to learn Grimmjow had quite a sweet tooth. However, he had a preference for a certain type of sweet- ironically, the only kind of human foods he would eat had to be strawberry flavored. Suckers, hard candy, gum, ice cream; if it was strawberry flavored, he would devour it with relish. He learned this unexpectedly when the panther Arrancar had pinned him to the concrete and sealed their mouths together, tongue thrusting deep into his mouth. In shock, he allowed it to happen, gasping for air when the bigger man finally pulled back to breathe. Blinking at him confusedly, Ichigo breathed deep, almost panting. "What the hell was that for?" His voice was curious, no accusation or disgust in it at all, and Grimmjow smiled at him just a little. "Strawberries. I'm crazy 'bout 'em, and I've been wonderin' fer weeks if you tasted like one. You do. Can I taste you…elsewhere?" Ichigo later found out that Grimmjow swore Ichigo was the sweetest soul he'd ever tasted, and that his cum apparently tasted exactly like fresh strawberries. After that the panther refused to let anyone touch him, lest "the touch of fouler beings spoil the fruit". He also ordered Ichigo to never change, so he'd never stop being so sweet.
79. Touch (Continuation of "Whore")
Grimmjow howled, his back arched in orgasm, falling bonelessly to the bed when he finished, a little dazed from the intensity. Ichigo lay beside him, a creamy smile of content on his face as he watched his whore pant, licking the release off his hand. The panther inside him purred, a rare occurrence that was happening more and more often around his Soul Reaper. The part that scared him, however, was that his inner animal was changing it's demands- rather than demand sex from the nearest person, it had settled into a patter and started to pick favorites. For rough, painful sex, he went to Nnoitra, for something new and possibly dangerous he went to Szayel, when he felt like submitting he went to Stark, when he wanted dominance he went to Illifort, and when he wanted it gentle he went to Ichigo. He was no longer driven to pounce on anyone who looked even vaguely interesting, and most disturbing was he was increasingly going to anyone other than Ichigo quite a bit less. Ichigo didn't even fuck him most of the time, just touched him until he lost himself and was out of his mind, and more often than not concealed his hard-on so Grimmjow wouldn't insist on taking care of it. This frustrated the panther immensely, which might explain why it was focusing so intently on Ichigo, but that didn't explain why he wasn't screwing anything mildly attractive that breathed. When he took this problem to Hallibel, who was the most knowledgeable about this sort of thing, she blandly informed him that he was slowly becoming addicted to Ichigo's touch and eventually that would be the only touch he desired. Deciding that no longer being a whore, but instead being a consort (more or less) sounded pretty damn good, Grimmjow let the addiction come.
He soon began demanding Ichigo let him touch him back.
80. Virgin
Grimmjow hadn't been able to believe it when he heard. Kurosaki had nearly killed a drunken man that had tried to take advantage of him, and rather than just slug the guy and leaving he kept pounding the shit out of the intoxicated human until he was half-dead. The reason? Kurosaki was a virgin and would not tolerate anyone touching him that way without his consent. The baby shinigami was almost a quarter-century old and he still had never enjoyed the carnal pleasures of the flesh? But during their next battle (though Grimmjow as more inclined to call them 'sparring sessions' now, seeing as he no longer had any desire to actually kill the kid) he'd snuck in a quick grope of his ass and the man had come after him like a demon, insulted beyond belief. When he investigated this further, he discovered Ichigo did not tolerate being touched unless it was one of his younger sisters. Neither his friends, nor his father, nor any of the people he dated, male or female, was allowed to touch him. After another sparring session, he used a wall and his sword to corner Ichigo so he couldn't escape and demanded to know why Ichigo disallowed touches of any sort to his person. Ichigo blinked at him, then his shoulders slumped and he broke eye contact, refusing to look at him again. "When I was six a guy came into the clinic for a broken finger. He touched me. I don't like being touched." Now, Grimmjow was a wild animal. Animals comprehend things differently than humans, because they don't attach the same emotions to things that happen- pain is just a warning of your limitations, and touching and sex is just touching and sex. Unless it's a fight, touching doesn't mean anything, and a forceful mating (what humans call 'rape') just means they were horny and you weren't. It wasn't that big of a deal. So the panther was confused.
"Did he hurt you?" Ichigo's frown became deeper. "Yeah." Okay, getting hurt from letting a stranger touch you would make you wary, but it still didn't explain why he would let his friends, whom he trusted, get too close. He expressed this, making Ichigo facepalm and mutter it was a human issue that young'uns were not supposed to be touched sexually because their young minds couldn't handle the stress. Then of course Grimmjow freaked out; he hadn't understood that when Ichigo said he'd been touched, he meant that kind of touch. Grimmjow then announced that he would support Ichigo being a virgin for as long as he damn well pleased and promised he'd help beat up anyone who touched him without permission. Ichigo thanked him with a chaste kiss, more of a peck on the lips really, which left Grimmjow stunned and dazed for almost two days. It was most amusing.