81. Fan Fiction
The day he'd heard about 'fan fiction', Ichigo had been curious, horrified, aroused, disgusted, and a whole slew of other emotions he had no words for. He'd had no idea such a terrible thing could exist. Not only did these people, these strangers know his life, past, present, and future, they were using people he knew and himself and twisting his entire world for their own amusement and THEN making this terrible perversion of all he'd ever known available to other sick-minded people! And of course, they all seemed to presume he was gay (he was bi, goddamn it, bi!) and paired him up with anyone he knew and even some people he didn't know, so he couldn't look any of his male friends in the eye now. Hell, he couldn't even look at Byakuya or Kenpatchi without blushing as red as the fruit his name often depicted. One of the more popular pairings (aside from Renji and his hollow) was somebody he hadn't even met yet, an apparent Arrancar by the name of "Grimmjow" with distinctive ice blue hair and half a hollow's jaw on the right side of his face his only mask fragment. His hollow hole was supposedly in his stomach and he would, during the first two meetings, kick Ichigo's ass from Japan to America and back. Having this little tidbit, when the man himself showed up, Ichigo stared at him, flushed cherry red, and hid his face behind his hand. "I'm not fucking fighting you. No. No way in hell. I am not going through this shit. Not after Strawberry Bad Boy. Hell. No." Grimmjow, supremely confused at this, watched the black-haired female gape at the teen. "You said you didn't read that one!"
"I couldn't resist after I found out it had a happy ending! Besides, you're no better –you're the one who discovered 'Inspiration' and then made ME read it!"
"Oh like that was so bad; what about the 'Crush Collection'?"
"Don't you even bring that up. You know Bonnuit likes sticking me in moresomes! And besides, there's barely any voyeurism in the Crush Collection, but Inspiration is entirely about voyeurism!" His head turning from side to side as he watched them snarl and growl back and forth, Grimmjow was confused, but intrigued. The girl hissed, "And 'Cell Phone Fun' and 'Chained Kings' weren't?"
"You can't possibly count Chained Kings as voyeurism. There was no evidence of anyone watching them."
"Then how in the hell did they get into the room and then back out?"
"Someone did it, but that doesn't mean they watched."
"Well what about 'My Inspiration'?"
"You leave My Inspiration alone! That one is actually almost tasteful!" The teenage male paused then, before his fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe I'm arguing about the tastefulness of fan fiction when technically anyone who writes a sex scene is being a voyeur. We need to stop this conversation right now." "Uh, no, you don't," Grimmjow finally piped up. "You need to tell me what the living fuck you're talkin' about!" Ichigo and Rukia looked at each other, then Ichigo gestured to the Espada to follow him. "Come on. It's not something that can be explained –I'll have to show you." He had a particular one in mind, in fact…'Endure and Survive' ought to be gentle enough to start, seeing as it was AU (Alternate Universe) so it wouldn't hit too close to reality and freak him out too badly right away.
NOTE: All the fics mentioned here are NOT MINE and yes, they are real. If you enjoy GrimmIchi, I highly suggest you look them up.
82. Stories
Ichigo was an author. Words were his weapon, his shield, and his art- well, at least when they weren't spoken. He couldn't speak for shit, always managing to piss someone off and get in a fistfight. That's why the other Shinigami couldn't understand for the life of them why he considered himself a wordsmith. Grimmjow, when he heard, believed it without a second thought –he'd heard the stories the kid spun for his old man and his teachers when he bailed to go fight hollows and Arrancar. Of course, the substitute shinigami wasn't expecting it in the least when Arrancar, starting with Grimmjow, started showing up at his house in the middle of the night and offering to keep the lower ranks away from Karakura if he'd spin them a story to get out of trouble with Aizen…not that he ever turned them down.
83. Classes (Continuation of 'Neighbors')
As one was a professor, and the other was a student in his third year, both Ichigo and Grimmjow's schedule seemed to revolve around their classes. After two and a half months, this naturally put some strain on their relationship, particularly considering they hardly ever got to see each other these days. They came home to their shared bed each night, stripped down to skivvies, and curled around each other in complete exhaustion, and that was about it. Ichigo, who left first in the morning, would cook something and leave half on the stove for his lover to eat later, give Grimmjow a kiss goodbye, and head out. Grimmjow, who usually had a few free hours at home before his late-night class, liked to draw a bath for his roommate and boyfriend before he left so the boy could relax right when he got home, and these little gestures were all that kept them from doing stupid things like throwing angry accusations at each other during the rare times they managed to meet up for lunch or they both got a day off. Right now, Ichigo was passed out on their bed; Grimmjow had been supposed to get off work early today, so he'd prepared a special surprise, sticky notes guiding the older man to the bedroom where Ichigo waited, dressed in nothing but skimpy black leather straps. After three hours, he'd finally given in and let himself fall asleep, a blanket dragged over his lower body in a semblance of modesty in case Grimmjow had gone and gotten shitfaced and was brought home by one of his friends. When Grimmjow got home, tired and overall looking like he'd had the shit beat out of him, he found the notes and followed them to find his lover sleeping innocently. The poor orange-head looked sad and disappointed even in his sleep, and the professor realized with a pang that he couldn't pinpoint the last time they had made love.
Usually after going for an extended period without sex from his bedroom-proficient kitten, Grimmjow could name down to the minute when he had last been in Ichigo's bed, but he realized with growing guilt and horror that he had no idea how long it'd been, just that it had been a long while. It disturbed him –what if the younger man was feeling that the passion had gone out of their relationship, that they had lost their spark? What if Ichigo left him? He knew the brawny redhead from Ichigo's current Psychology classes was built just like the student liked 'em, broad and buff but not a complete muscle-head and he was possibly one of the most passionate men in that age group aside from Ichigo himself. It would be all too easy to find comfort in those tattooed, muscled arms if he wasn't getting the affection and pleasure he needed from Grimmjow. Feeling sick, the blue-haired male collapsed against the door frame, sagging against the wood that was all that was keeping him standing. He really, really didn't want to lose his Ichi-Berry to that immature (but sexy) prick, but he and Ichigo hadn't touched in months…it wouldn't really be surprising if his younger, virile lover decided to start seeking satisfaction elsewhere. Slowly stripping himself, Grimmjow approached the bed, praying it wasn't too late. He grinned when he pulled the cover aside to see the little leather ensemble he'd gotten Ichigo for his birthday- Ichigo only pulled that out as an extra-special treat, and then only every once in a blue moon. He must've been serious when he said in his note that he was planning to give Grimmjow a night to remember, which translated to the best sex of his life.
He let his tongue drag along the small stripes of skin between the leather straps, purring all the while and settling between Ichigo's splayed legs. He wanted his Ichi to have a…highly…pleasant awakening, and it had been probably at least a year since he'd woken Ichigo with a blow job. Ichigo made a low groan in his sleep, body slowly coming to attention beneath Grimmjow's tongue. That slightly irritated him too –before, even in his sleep, just a few licks could have him hard as a rock in seconds. He really had been neglecting his lover. Well…he'd have to correct that, now wouldn't he?
Ichigo woke up with a cry, his body arching and thrashing in the covers as he reached his peak. When he was able to be coherent again he smirked down at the Psychology professor who was licking his lips with a creamy smile of satifaction. "Oh good, baby, you're home…time to get the night started. We do have classes in the morning, after all."
84. Contradictions
They were a walking contradiction- Shinigami and Espada, good and evil, kind and cruel, and yet…somehow perfect together. The only problem was that they weren't together, and they were driving everyone who knew them up the wall! Aizen had started to send Grimmjow on missions to the living world just to let him work off some of his fury and had even gone so far as to give him permission to go anywhere he liked any time he liked. This resulted in him popping up at the most random (and sometimes inopportune) moments to pick a fight with Ichigo, and this explained why Ichigo hadn't been in anything close to a good mood for weeks. He had, in fact, taken to ignoring Grimmjow if he showed up at a bad time (he really, really hated being dragged out of the shower while a psycho Espada demanded a fight, or being grabbed by his shirt and thrown out the window while he was eating dinner, ect…). Being ignored did not go over well with the panther, usually resulting in a more brutal, vicious fight, which of course made Ichigo even more reluctant to fight him the next time. Grimmjow, eventually, learned this and would wait (impatiently, cussing and spitting) for Ichigo to finish what he was doing and get ready to fight him. Aizen was fully aware of what was going on and intrigued at the fact that the young Kurosaki boy had successfully managed to teach Grimmjow both manners and patience to some degree. Enjoying the effect, Aizen started to wonder if he would be able to negotiate with the boy –he'd be willing to offer just about anything if Kurosaki could bring the Sexta under control, even if it was limited. Two weeks later, the Contract of the Contradiction was drawn up and signed, which stated that Ichigo's family and friends would be brought to Las Noches by hook or by crook and protected for the duration of the Winter War and would be released when the war ended no matter which side won.
In return, Ichigo would subtly and slowly continue to teach Grimmjow how to behave, because if Grimmjow didn't do what he wanted then Ichigo would flat-out refuse to fight him, and Aizen had given strict orders that the shinigami was to be respected and obeyed or they would face a night in Gin's private room. Now that they both resided in the same place, the pair truly were a walking contradiction, even if they were nothing more than comrades…for the moment.
85. Glasses
Grimmjow Jaggerjack, popular student, Captain of the Fight Club, honor roll student… was wearing glasses. Black, thick, square-framed glasses that should've made him look like a complete geek but somehow only made him even more drool-worthy than he already was. Fuck. Desperate to control his boner before anyone saw it, Ichigo Kurosaki (resident geek, member of the Art Club, and most unpopular outcast in school) pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his own glasses and thought of dead babies and abused animals. It worked, killing his desire immediately, and he sighed. He was one of the openly gay men in his high school –though nowhere near Flaming Gay like Shinji was –and he'd never hear the end of it if he was caught staring at a popular boy with a boner. If anyone knew how deeply he fancied that arrogant son of a bitch he would be ridiculed until he was ready to commit suicide. He also, unfortunately, was more or less on suicide watch permanently after the attempt four years ago, during middle school. He'd been so close…but then fucking Renji had to find him and call the goddamn ambulance. The jock didn't even like him and he just had to go and ruin everything! Still angry about that day so long ago, Ichigo couldn't control the low, dangerous growl that vibrated the air. His uncontrollable growls and snarls had a tendency to scare those around him, which was a strong factor to his being such an outcast. Removing his hand and letting the glasses (slim, gold wire frames that would've looked fashionable on anybody else) slam back down on the bridge of his nose, he sighed and returned to his book. They were being required to read Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet' for Reading, and as many times as he'd already read it, the language and the story never failed to bring him deep into the book.
He was already more than halfway through it when the first attack came –a rough hand yanked harshly on his hair and jerked his head back almost hard enough to snap his neck, causing him to snarl wordlessly like a disturbed lion. "Aww, look at the little geek! He's trying to sound tough!" Staring into the eyes of the cheerleader's captain, whom he privately called the Head Bitch, and her posse, Ichigo finally decided that he didn't care if it was his last year and only three months 'til graduation; he was not going to take this shit anymore! With another fierce growl, he moved, and the next thing anybody knew Ichigo was on his feet and Loly was screaming in pain, the arrogant girl pinned to the orange-haired teen's desk as he twisted harder on her wrist, grinding the broken bones of her forearm together. "I'm sick of your shit, bitch," he hissed, loud enough for the entire class to hear, "you think you can take me? I've beat men three times my size and made them cry like toddlers, torn ligaments, broken bones, internal damage you can't imagine. I've been fighting off people twice my age and four times my size since you were in diapers and your little punk ass thinks you can take me? Break me? It's so ridiculous it's not even funny." His hand gripping her hair and yanking so her neck bent back like she'd done to him, he smiled psychotically, murderously, and let his mouth nearly touch her ear as he whispered, "A flick of my wrist and I can snap your neck like a fucking twig, you pathetic little weakling. I could kill you here and now and it would be worth it. I'm not usually this violent, not after The Incident eight years ago, but you just seem to bring out the Demon in me. Do you understand, little girl, how bad of an idea it is to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until someone breaks? Haven't you ever heard?" He lowered his voice further so that only she could hear. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. When we break, we tend to go…wild…we tend to become… beasts."
He was surprised out of it when his glasses, which had fallen off when he moved, were gently replaced and adjusted how he liked them. Letting up on his grip and letting her hair go, he stared down at her for a moment before looking to see who had returned them. "Thank you, Jaggerjack-san," he said softly, his tone back to his normal polite one, "it has been too long. The Demon is restless and wants to play." The popular student grinned and peered over the black frames that had slid down his nose, blue eyes showing an inner predator from behind the containing glass. "Let the useless Prey go," he suggested silkily, "and maybe your Demon and my Beast can play together." Ignoring the now whimpering and sobbing bitch –the Prey –he tilted his head back so the Demon backed down a little- the prescription glasses always gave the Demon a headache and made him settle when he got antsy. "We would like another predator to play with. Prey is just no fun anymore." Grimmjow shoved his glasses closer to his face, the battle-hungry glint fading a little at a time as he stared through the clear glass. "Yeah, no fun at all. In the meantime, don't lose your glasses again, yeah? We wouldn't want you arrested before we got a chance to meet you… properly."
86. Share
It was strange, when you thought about it, how Grimmjow was one of the most possessive motherfuckers you'd ever meet in your lifetime, but when it came to the most important man in his life, his lover, he had no problems sharing. They didn't have any children (yet) so he didn't have to share too much, but he did anyway. If Ichigo wanted to go out with friends and stay the night at wherever they met to drink at the end of the night, the panther would only shrug and remind him to contact him before suppertime the next day. When other people flirted with Ichigo (and they did that a lot) he never said anything or made possessive gestures, not even if Ichigo was flirting back. Even when people would tell him that Ichigo, a very, very friendly drunk, had slept with whoever caught his fancy that night, the Espada usually just shrugged and said "So what?" Grimmjow had known going into their strange relationship that he would never be allowed to have Ichigo all to himself. The boy would've demanded that he share with the teen's family if nothing else. So he had decided, the boy could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted…just as long as he returned to Grimmjow. The Arrancar had no problems sharing Ichigo, just so long as he got to be the favorite, the home berth the shinigami always returned to. Since he was the favorite, the only one Ichigo always came back to when he wanted stability for a time, he was content…even if he did have to share his lover.
87. Lies
If there was one thing his King could not tolerate, Shirosaki mused to himself, it was when someone lied. If you were lying to protect a friend, or your family, then he could understand it and let it slide, but if someone lied to his face without there being any need at all for it…well, that just drove him mad. As the destruction of half the Sereitei was proving when his reiatsu had exploded. Kurosaki Ichigo was, right at this moment, prowling the sands of Hueco Mundo and establishing himself some territory. The shinigami had lied to him –about what he was, about Aizen, about the Winter War, about almost everything. Settling down into his own little cave and growling in warning whenever he felt spiritual pressure getting too close to his territorial borders, Ichigo sighed and curled up on himself, in his true Arrancar form. Skin paler than the sands and covered with the bright red markings, claws for hands and feet, a thick tail, a long mane of hair, and a portion of hollow mask that clung to the sides of his head to support his horns, he was a sight to behold and a beautiful specimen of an Arrancar. He also, right at this particular moment, was annoyed because a reiatsu that felt vaguely familiar was steadily approaching and it felt more than strong enough to discount his growls. It also felt…friendly? Or perhaps…simply non-hostile. Either way, it was enough to perk his pointed ears and raise his head, tail flicking interestedly. He liked that reiatsu, he liked it's taste and how it felt when it brushed against his own untamable mass. He looked forward to meeting the one it came from. He was in fact fond enough of it that when a human-like creature with blue hair (that he knew he knew from somewhere, but for the life of him couldn't remember) he snagged the brawny male in his claws and cuddled up to him contently.
Grimmjow, mildly disturbed by this but not making a fuss since the stranger didn't seem inclined to actually hurt him, yawned and wrapped himself around the warm Arrancar male, ignoring the orange hair. He would learn of Kurosaki's defection and resulting neutrality in the war (unless his friends or family was attacked) after escorting him to Las Noches a few days later. He would also be the only one to discover what had made the teen literally explode half of the Court of Pure Souls was that they had lied to him about who and what he was and why they would not trust him.
88. Mate (Continuation of 'Belong')
It had been another week since Grimmjow had approached him on the roof, and Ichigo was almost completely out of time to be claimed by his mate. His Neko ears were almost gone, his scales covered most of his skin, his tail was fully lizard, his feet were completely converted into lizard claws with a small spire where his heel had been and huge claws instead of toes, and his hands had transformed entirely into deadly claws shaped like a human hand with a little spine that extended from the side of his wrist for about two and a half inches and was connected to his forearm by webbed skin to form a little fin. Laid out on his stomach in the sun after school, he purred rustily as his eyelids drifted shut. His tail flickered contently, soaking up the yellow warmth into his snow-white scales, his red markings glowing against the light. Stretched out cat-like, he dozed softly, rolling onto his side to curl up for a proper nap. He was startled awake abruptly when a hot body draped itself over his, gentle fangs starting to chew on his ear in a provocative invitation. Confused, alarmed, and a little angry, he quickly rolled onto his back and pushed the as-yet unidentified male back with a snarl. A flash of ice blue and he realized it was Grimmjow, unconsciously gentling and ceasing to push against him as the panther purred and pressed against him, rubbing their chests and cheeks together. His pupils were unnaturally dilated, his ears drooping to half-mast and his tail making strange shapes and corkscrewing- something was very, very wrong. He was probably drugged –catnip grew wild in an empty lot nearby this park, and some of the non-feline Hybrids found it amusing to reap them and randomly shove it in a felid's face to watch them get high when they were unable to resist eating it. Grimmjow was now high as a kite, horny as fuck, and looking to mate the nearest potential he could sniff out. What was left of his ears flattened angrily, and though his instinct screamed not to he pushed the panther off his body.
"You're not thinking straight, Grimmjow. You prefer females. Go find one."
Though he stayed where he was pushed to, the Neko leaned over to rub their cheeks together again. "Nnnnnnnooo," he slurred, "nnnnot fe-fe-female…wwwwant I-Ichi. Wwwant Ichi! Ichi nnnnnot wwwant Grrrr-Grrrrimm?"
Ichigo shuddered; if the bigger male kept advancing like he was, inching closer and closer, and saying things like that, the lizard-Neko wouldn't be able to keep himself in check for long. "I want you so bad it hurts. You like females, remember? You avoided me so you didn't have to reject me outright, but I'd never have started changing back unless you had begun courting and preparing to mate someone else. You don't want me, and you never did."
Grimmjow licked his neck, frowning deeply when Ichigo moved away from his touch. "Wwwant Ichi," he insisted, "on-on-only Ichi. Ichi wwwant Grrrriiim- wh-wh-wh-why Ichi sssssay nnno?"
Ichigo stood, his tail thrashing. "My body doesn't lie, Grimmjow! There's only one way for a solitary to return to their original species, and that's if their mate, their only ever mate, chooses somebody else! Just-just go find your bitch and mate her and leave me alone!"
Still heavily under the influence of his hormones, the panther grabbed the dangerously thrashing tail and brought it closer so he could lightly gnaw and suck on it. "But Gr-Grrrimm loves hisss Ichi," he mumbled around the uncontrollably twitching flesh petulantly.
Crouching down and tugging his tail away, the Lizard-Neko caressed the panther's face softly, knowing this would probably be the only time the feline would allow him to. "Think back to the past month, Grimmjow – you were with someone other than me. You probably love them. You were courting them and wanted to mate them- remember who it was."
Grimmjow pouted at having his treat taken away, not understanding why Ichi kept saying Grimmjow didn't want him. Of course he did! He'd always wanted the cute little Neko, but when he was sober he wasn't brave enough to acknowledge that. When he was sober he didn't like admitting he loved a male, because he knew his mother would disown him for being 'filthy' and 'damned to hell for eternity'. Seeing as he wasn't allowed to play with his beloved's tail, instead he nipped playfully at the sharp claws that were trailing back and forth across his face and cheeks delicately. "Grrrrrimm llllllo-loves Ichi," he persisted, beginning to suck on the claws (they tasted divine and he could bite at the scales all he wanted to because he knew he couldn't possibly damage them) with a purr. "Fe-female jusssssst cov-cover. Grrrimm's Dam issss dan-dan-dangerrrrous. Wwwant Ichi." Though he was busy savoring the fingers in his mouth, he sure as hell didn't miss the expression of pain that flashed over his Ichi's face.
"You're…not yourself. C'mon, let's get you home." He nipped the fingers again as they withdrew from him, a little disappointed, but got unsteadily to his feet. Wherever his Ichi wanted to take him, he'd go, and wherever Ichi went, he'd follow. At least until the catnip wore off. He didn't look forward to that –if he hadn't mated Ichi by the time he got sober again, he'd never mate him. He was too much of a coward. When those punks had shoved the catnip directly under his nose, so close he couldn't resist eating it, he'd had a short moment of clarity, of realization. If he was out of his mind on the catnip, maybe his mother would just have to accept what he'd done because he had been unwillingly drugged and at the mercy of his instincts. Instincts that told him Ichi was a worthy mate and he should choose him.
Ichigo jumped when clawed, soft-furred hands attached to his hips from behind as he led Grimmjow home. He should've expected it though, as right now his instincts were telling him he loved Ichigo and therefore should be mating him right now. That meant, until Ichigo consented to mate him, Grimmjow would not stop touching him in an attempt to work Ichigo up and make himself a more alluring choice of mate. He would, until either the catnip wore off or Ichigo consented, dote unceasingly on the orange-head, which was a tactic to show he would be a loving and faithful mate if chosen. The Lizard-Neko, on the other hand, wasn't sure how long he could continue saying 'no'. He wanted to say yes, desperately in fact, and every second he spent with a loving, attentive, horny mate only made it harder to resist. Half an hour later and the effects were still going strong –that is, Grimmjow now had Ichigo bent over backwards on the arm of his couch, rubbing his face against him to scent mark him, and insisting in his slurred, broken speech that he loved Ichigo. The Lizard-Neko gave up and slid down to rest comfortably on the couch cushions, rubbing his own face along the panther's pectorals to scent mark him in return. Delighted with this turn of events, Grimmjow purred loudly, throwing his head back and sliding down as well so his little Ichi-mate had more access. A rusty growl/purr answered him, followed by a very quiet, "Ichi loves Grimm."
"Grrrimm llllloves Ichi," he panted, unable to catch his breath as some of the stronger catnip effects kicked in, "Ichi lllloves Gr-Grrrim. M-Mates?"
The crossbreed sighed. "Yes. Mates."
Making a pleased, happy sound deep in his throat, Grimmjow set his teeth at the one soft spot left on Ichigo- the place where neck met shoulder- and offered up his own shoulder for the sharp lizard teeth.
The bite was painful. Extremely painful, in fact, seeing as Lizard teeth were all canines, sharp as shark teeth, and each individual tooth had a little jagged edge for maximum tearing and shredding ability. But it was permanent and mutual, and that was what counted. He felt a sharp pulse go through the body of his new mate, followed by a short whimper that made his tail bristle. But when he looked, Ichigo's Neko ears (all that was left of his felid form at this point) had grown back to full size all at once, which had probably hurt. He licked one of the beautiful orange ears soothingly, and that rusty purr/growl came again, informing him it was appreciated. Well, he'd chosen his mate, officially, so it looked like he was going to have to get used to being this brave sober. Facing his mother would be hell, but he'd manage. What mattered right now was comforting his hurting mate.
89. Marked
When Grimmjow had been ordered by his own physiology to take a partner, mostly because his instincts were demanding he either sire or kit a litter, he hadn't been happy about it. He figured he'd fuck or be fucked by the first healthy being he came across that had enough spiritual pressure to survive the coupling. He hadn't expected the one to fit the criteria to be the shinigami he'd seen in Ulquiorra's report- the Kurosaki brat. Of course, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, this was not enough to deter him from the plan and he was still going to take what he wanted. He had just pulled off the unresisting boy's top, dropping the black and white material to the grass beneath their feet, when he found them. The marks. He could tell bruising came from many different shaped hands of different sizes, the red love bites came from several different mouths, and the scratches littering his torso came from nails with varying degrees of sharpness. He'd been had before, likely against his will, by at least four other people. He'd learned to stop fighting it, which was the only reason Grimmjow wasn't in immense pain right now. He'd stopped dead at the sight of those marks on the one who would give him children and made by someone other than him. If Kurosaki had possessed any fight left in him at all, Grimmjow would be flat on the ground with his face beat in by now. Letting his cerulean gaze stop at the waistband of the teenager's pants, he realized big, black, misshapen bruises overran each of his hipbones and down, below, as though the bruises overlapped. They probably did, and that was what made Grimmjow stop there. He used a hand at the small of the smaller man's back to bring the lithe body forward and dropped to his knees.
This quite apparently surprised Ichigo, who finally moved a little –just a slight motion of his left hand, as if to reach for Grimmjow's shoulder, before he went still again. Encouraged by the favorable reaction of getting any reaction at all, the panther nuzzled the bruised stomach as lightly as possible so as not to hurt his chosen partner and then he began to clean the small wounds and scratches. His hollow nature gave him saliva with healing qualities, he knew, so he was trying to use that advantage of his nature to help alleviate the pain the teenager was in. The crime that had been committed here broke several hollow mating and courtship laws. First, if you don't plan to permanently mate your partner, you are not allowed to Mark them up. Second, never defile a virgin against their will. Third, if you do make the mistake of Marking up your partner, you stay and claim them as your mate. All these rules had been broken by at least four, and this left the boy traumatized and physically weakened. If he'd ever been carrying kits, he'd probably lost them to stress by now. Just because the boy was shinigami and unknowing of Hollow law was no excuse to do such horrible things to the lad. Rasping his tongue over another red, angry scratch mark and feeling it heal even as he licked, he was pleased when a hand gently twined with his hair. He liked to be touched, especially by someone who had never touched someone else willingly. He wanted the teen to like him, maybe even trust him, and anyone who could survive the horror he had was more than strong enough to sire a litter. He'd like Kurosaki to sire one with him, but first he had to heal him up.
When he reached the beltline, he looked up at the boy and asked quietly if he had any other wounds to heal that he couldn't see. The orange-haired male nodded silently, and Grimmjow asked if it was all bruising or if there were more claw or bite marks, explaining that his saliva had only a mild healing agent in it so he could only heal wounds that had broken the flesh; the saliva had to be applied directly onto and in the wound to be effective so he couldn't do anything for the bruises. Ichigo shook his head no, though it wasn't clear whether he meant that there were claw marks or that there weren't. The teen wouldn't speak; he merely pushed his loose hakama off and clasped his hands behind his back, carefully not looking even in Grimmjow's general direction. The damage to his lower half, but most particularly to the hips and buttocks, was extensive and horrifying. Grimmjow swallowed down his anger and disgust at the bastards who'd left him in this condition and went to work. When he'd done all he could, he gently redressed the unresisting boy and then took him by the hand to lead him towards a few Soul Reapers he could feel in the area. On the way, he hesitatingly tried to explain what he was going through. Ichigo apparently understood, because he'd abruptly stiffened for a split second before turning pliable once again. Whoever had put him through hell must've reached their physiological time limit as well. He warned the boy that he would wait for him to heal, but after a while he'd lose his mind and if he showed up in his armored release form he'd have to find a way to control and calm him. Subjugation by beating him in battle would be best, but if the boy was still injured and lost, that would be bad.
Ichigo could read between the lines. Ff he wasn't healed and strong enough to beat the Espada back when he lost his mind to his instincts, he was going to be raped. Again. Probably even more viciously than before, because at least they'd been sane. So, when he was still bruised and just barely healed enough not to bleed every time he sat down and Grimmjow showed up, blue hair long, cat ears swiveling, and tail lashing in a coat of bone armor, he knew what he was supposed to do. Caught on patrol in a thankfully deserted warehouse district, he watched the panther's approach with a sigh. When the other male was close enough, he turned his back to him and braced both arms against the brick wall before him. He heard the soft pawsteps pause behind him, but knew better than to look. Looking over his shoulder was an invitation and made them more…'enthusiastic'. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the memories, and closed his eyes. Unexpectedly, rather than a hard body pressing against him from behind, he was pressed from the front, the hard body rubbing up and down against his own with a deep, enticing purr just begging him to look. Look he did, to find Grimmjow's no-longer-armored (and thus naked) body had somehow been wriggled in between his chest and the brick, and the panther humanoid was rubbing and pawing at him like a female in heat. Seeing he had The Chosen's attention, Grimmjow's instinctual self (Pantera, or so he was called) mewed and tilted his chin up to show his throat. He still remembered The Chosen's pain and hell, and hoped that offering his submission would soothe the one Grimmjow wanted to mate.
Cautiously, The Chosen bent his head to nuzzle the offered throat, his movements stiff and unsure. He was wary, and though Pantera hated it he knew why and couldn't blame the other male for it. To Pantera's encouraging mewls, The Chosen breathed deeply, imprinting his scent, and then gave him a little lick, almost like he was testing how far he could go. The blue-haired male turned his head, offering more skin. He was admittedly a little nervous about this; it was easier to dominate because then even if they refused you The Chosen could still be bound, though doing it forcefully was one of the worst things you could do. When submitting, however, if rejected, you were pretty well screwed, and not the good way. You only got to Choose once, and if you couldn't get your Chosen to accept you then you spent your life either alone or with another reject. That was a hollow's worst nightmare. In this case, The Chosen was liable to spook easily because he'd been badly abused, and he might reject Pantera and by extension Grimmjow if he spooked and bolted. A gentle scrape of teeth brought him out of his thoughts, exciting him at the same time. Would the Chosen Mate Mark him this early in the mating? He purred, stretching his neck further and hopes that the teeth would come again, biting and Marking him as the teenager's for the rest of eternity. They didn't bite, only scraping again ever-so-lightly as if he was afraid to use any force. It looked like his mate would need some blatant direction, but that was okay. Anything for his mate. "M-more, Ichigo-mate, more! Please. Make me yours?"
The Chosen smiled sadly against his neck, his sorrow seeping into his reiatsu. "I don't think," he rumbled softly, "that Grimmjow would be too happy to wake up to a dominant mate he'd have to submit to for the rest of his life."
Pantera whined- such a good mate, that he cared about what Grimmjow thought too, but he didn't understand! "Mates can switch roles, Master! You are his Chosen, so he wants to make you happy just like I do; please Mark me!" Ichigo licked up his neck, more soothing than lustful, and kissed his jaw. It was all too calm and calculated, not desirous or sloppy like true passion at all, and Pantera didn't like that. He desperately wanted his mate to want him, to feel passion and lust and love and to direct it all at him. His didn't like the cold, manipulative touches he was getting right now, almost as if Ichigo was just waiting for…waiting for Pantera to turn on him! Of course! He thought it was all a game, a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security to make it easier for Pantera to pounce, so naturally he wasn't putting anything into it; he just didn't trust him yet! The panther inhaled –and oh that taste, that smell was delicious –and wrapped his arms around the Chosen's waist. "You're still hurt, aren't you, mate? Come, let's find a soft place." Ichigo didn't protest, instead flash-stepping them to a forest with a clearing next to a little stream and in the middle of the clearing was a depression just the right size for two bodies, lined with soft moss that grew there. Pantera couldn't help scenting the area, and found it was particularly clean; it only smelled like forest, a few week-old fox trails, and Ichigo. In fact, the Chosen's scent was all over this place, thick and strong, so this must be a private place for him. Honored that he would share it with him, Pantera nuzzled him and purred.
Unable to resist the instinct that was screaming at him, he turned around in his mate's hold so they were chest-to-back and ground his hips back against Ichigo's, feeling through the shinigami's pants what he'd been hoping for- the tell-tale bulge of his arousal. He whined a little as he felt it's heat, neck arched in offering and one of his hands creeping to the back of the Chosen's neck for leverage and balance. He needed his shinigami naked and in him, right fucking now. Ichigo finally seemed to be getting engaged, because he saw the uniform top flutter to the ground and a hot, naked chest pressed to his back as he heard the obi come loose and saw it fold to the grass out of the corner of his eye before suddenly there was a fwsh sound and a throbbing, burning piece of flesh was pressed directly between his legs, sliding up and down his crack erotically. "Nnah!" Oh yes, that was what he wanted, and it was so close… Again instinct dictated his movements and he stepped forward, spread his legs apart for better balance, and bent down, hands bracing on the forest floor for more stability. One hot hand burned a brand into his hip, kneading at it almost violently, and he didn't know what happened to the other one until a wet finger entered him, testing and probing. "A-ah! Ah, nnnyahhh- ah! Ngh, oh, ahn!" He was fertile right now, slick and dilated and ready, but oh, his mate was so good, even wanting to make sure he was prepared! Those fingers (three, when the hell had that happened, oh shit he didn't even care because it was amazing) were stretching him wider, stroking his insides and then it hit the gland that made him yowl and mewl and make all sorts of humiliating noises –but as good as they were, fingers were not what he really wanted.
He was watching and waiting, his body hot and engorged, because this time, this time he really wanted to believe that he meant what he said. He wanted, so hard, to believe that Grimmjow/Pantera wanted him enough to let him top, even if it was only because he was hurting right now. He wanted it enough to risk another rape, and when Pantera had expressed such concern for him, despite being randy enough to screw anything that moved, he'd given in and let it happen. He was horny and he was attracted to this man, and if he got the right signal, he was going to fuck this man through the forest floor. He just had to wait for the right invitation. Spreading his fingers as wide as the clenching, shuddering muscles would allow, he removed his other hand from the protruding hipbone to reach around and rake his short nails over the panther's chest before closing his fingers gently around one nipple. The high, wanting sound this produced made him growl, deep in his chest, and press closer to that temptingly offered ass, rubbing against it hard and reveling in the whine that resulted. He pinched the other nipple, growling louder, and finally got what he'd been looking for. Pantera glanced at him from over his right shoulder, eyes burning and pink tongue peeking out as his muscles strained. In one hard thrust, Ichigo joined with him.
As Ichigo started to touch him in other places, the growl that vibrated through both their bodies had made Pantera shiver. It was a husky, primal sound of lust and it was commanding absolute dominance. It drove him wild, and he struggled not to writhe impatiently. Why had his mate not mounted him yet? A louder, different growl commanded him to look at him, and he understood. He was waiting to be invited. He was no beast who would mount him with teeth in the back of his neck to keep him compliant; he wanted to know he was welcomed and wanted. Pantera turned his head to welcome him in, letting the need show in his half-lidded eyes, tail folded up along his spine to be out of the way and his tongue in the middle of licking his lips. He was rewarded with immediate connection, giving a loud yowl at the wonderful sensation of being filled. Dilated as he was, it shocked him that Ichigo was thick enough to stretch him further, and long enough to reach in and rub against his prostate. Holy fuck that was good! His ears, flattened submissively, caught the slick, wet sound of entry as the Chosen hilted himself, pausing there to let him adjust. Somehow, the sound of his own secretions lubing up that huge, hard cock was so filthy and loud that it made him impossibly more aroused, and that made him wetter even as it made him harder and he heard the shinigami groan behind him. With another growl, a mouth breathed hotly right next to his ear and he whimpered.
"You ready?"
Pantera didn't even have to hesitate in answering. "Yes!" he mewled, pressing back against him as much as he could. The first thrust was so powerful that if he hadn't been braced for the strength of his mate, it would've floored him.
The next thrusts were just as hard- he was glad Pantera didn't need him to be gentle because he didn't think he could hold back now. With every wet slap of skin and bone-jarring thrust, he was exorcising the pain of his rapes, the helplessness of being forced down and held as his body was violated, and he could feel his spirit twining together with the man underneath him. It was a connection wholly different from those other bastards, one made willingly and with warmth, meant to last longer than just this coupling. Both hands were roaming Pantera's body now, blunt nails leaving red welts in their wake when they weren't pinching, rubbing, pulling, or pressing. A little overwhelmed by the delicious sensation overtaking his body, he finally ended up grabbing onto the panther's shoulders and used his grip as leverage to thrust even harder and faster, unable to keep himself from going a little wild when Pantera was doing the same; bucking back into him and making all sorts of noises that just fired his already boiling blood hotter. His teeth ground at a particular kind of yowl that bordered on being a wail –the Arrancar weren't the only ones with instincts, particularly ones that went haywire at certain times. That type of yowl was basically a mating call, the man he was screwing mercilessly practically begging to be bitten and Marked as his Mate. He wanted to bite, to Mark him and make him his own for goddamn good, but…not like this. Tearing himself away, his voice nearly deserted him when Pantera cried out at the loss and came out as a hazy snarl. "On your back."
Obedience was immediate; it took him less than a second to thrust back into the pliant body and it felt like coming home. He could thrust harder now too, the one beneath more fully and comfortably braced with his entire back pressed to the soft moss. He let himself lick along his chest, torturing the larger man's nipples with his teeth and tongue for a few moments until he made that yowl-wail again and then he couldn't help growling and dragging his tongue up to the other's collarbone and sucking there to leave a small hickey. Pantera apparently understood the question, because he tilted his head to offer his neck and yowl-wailed again, louder. Ichigo no longer had the strength to resist that call- thrusting as deep and hard as he could possibly go, his teeth clamped down on the offered flesh where neck met shoulder and his jaw locked as he felt his teeth pierce the thick skin and blood filled his mouth. Pantera yined at the top of his lungs and then howled as his claws dug into the teenager and he came so hard his eyes crossed. Conscious of his mate even in his ecstasy, and knowing he hadn't come with him, Pantera pressed closer, bringing that wonderful cock impossibly deeper, and wrapped his legs around the other's waist. This movement ground his prostate and triggered a second orgasm before the first had quite finished, his body furiously milking the still-rock-hard length inside him as he demanded in his shaky voice, breaking from the intensity, "C-come! Gi-give me m-my kittens, M-Mate! Lemme f-feel your p-pleasure!" With a roar, Ichigo did exactly that, continuing to thrust until the entirety of his seed had emptied into the body underneath him.
Both males collapsed in a sated, content heap, Pantera nuzzling close to his mate and slinging his arm around the smaller male's waist, careful of the bruising that lingered and mindful of the scratches he had inflicted himself. Ichigo licked the Mating Mark clean lazily, his legs entwining with Pantera's, and then tucked his head under the taller man's chin, his hand unconsciously straying to his new mate's stomach as he drifted to sleep. Pantera, more than satisfied (if he wasn't pregnant now, he was guaranteed to be in the future with a mate as young, strong, and virile as Ichigo), gave Grimmjow control back. Grimmjow blinked to find himself all cuddled up to the kid –his Chosen –and with the smell of recent sex in the air. He could feel several claw marks on his ribs, chest, and back, and his nipples were sore, and his neck…his neck was throbbing. Did the kid Claim him? Raising a hand to the base of his neck, he carefully felt it and sure enough, there was a small, barely-there raised bump in the skin, and when it traced it he found the shape to be something like two triangular stripes, almost like that of the noble demons of old. It must be the kid's Mark. Grimmjow couldn't help smiling softly down at the teenager sleeping on his chest, and while he was looking down he noticed something else that was rather important- his stomach was whole. There was only one thing that made your hollow hole disappear; he was pregnant. The panther settled in for a nap himself… and to think all this was the result of him being unable to get the image of Ichigo wearing his Mark out of his head…
90. Control
Ichigo was used to being called all sorts of foul names, so much so he usually ignored them –Grimmjow was not a sweet man, and he was probably at his most vulgar when he was in his passion –but one thing he did not tolerate was being called the bitch of the relationship. Yes, Grimmjow fucked him. That didn't mean he didn't have just as much, if not more, control over Grimmjow as Grimmjow had over him. If anything, Grimmjow was the bitch, because if Ichigo decided to withhold sex that man would do anything to get the cock blocking retracted. They had settled that during the first argument (which was so long ago they couldn't even remember what it had been about anymore) when the panther had left, declaring Ichigo would come crawling back to him soon enough. A month later, it had been the former Espada that came back, head hanging, bags under his eyes, hair unkempt, two sore wrists and an apology on his lips. He couldn't stand being away for any longer; he couldn't sleep without another warm body in his bed, and he was in withdrawal so deep his senses were starting to trick him to make him think he'd caught a faint scent or seen orange hair out of the corner of his eye. And he couldn't get the Berry's touch out of his head, couldn't get his taste out of his mouth, which resulted in at least a hundred erections he'd had to take care of himself because Ichigo wasn't there to help him out. So Ichigo didn't appreciate being referred to as Grimmjow's bitch, because between the two of them, they both knew full well Ichigo had the lion's share of the control.