Zenith: Tsumi

by Shapooda

3 months after the end of Zenith, Ichigo is trying to get back into normalcy, (whatever counts for normal for a demigod) and he accidentally unleashes a hell of a problem. Grimmichi

4. Hollow

Notes: This chapter is um probably kinky, so fair warning. It's also not smut. Take that as you will frens. But this chapter is solidly GrimmIchi and character dev. You all needed some soff things before the big bad plot comes back.

Hollow

- xxx -

Grimmjow

Waking up with his face pressed against the side of Kurosaki's leg was, well, embarrassing. He blinked at the torn and tattered shihakusho, blurry when it was smashed up against his face. He'd slept near Kurosaki before, but not right next to him. This was one step short of cuddling.

Then he remembered what he'd said. Hell, he'd said things.

He flushed and looked up, straight into Kurosaki's eyes. Sharp, golden eyes stared back, still softened by guilt, the stark pinpoints that betrayed die Konigin burning in his eyes like stars. He hadn't expected Kurosaki to be watching him, he looked like he hadn't slept or moved since he'd last seen him, but given who and what he was, that was likely exactly what happened. For a long moment, Grimmjow just stared, pinned by the intensity there, then remembered they weren't alone.

Sitting upright, his entire existence screamed in protest, but the discomfort was for nothing; The other bed was empty.

Kurosaki hadn't moved, arms folded and head resting against the wall, but he zeroed in on his weakness with a small frown. "She woke up a little bit ago and left, but she said she would be back later."

Something about his tone made Grimmjow study him closer, but he let it slide. "That uncomfortable, huh?"

Kurosaki only sighed, his eyes locked on the wrinkled and mussed comforter.

Grimmjow asked, "Did you sleep?"

"No." And those eyes were back on him, looking into him and through him, as if he had no secrets left to hide, as if Kurosaki could look straight into his thoughts. But he knew that wasn't true. The hybrid was uncomfortably mortal, his appearance and power had fooled Grimmjow as well as anyone else, and that still stung.

Grimmjow had nothing but further proof of this when Kurosaki's expression faltered, trying to smother the guilt that stabbed his heart. "I cracked your mask."

Hand shooting up to the jawbone, Grimmjow traced the ridges of teeth, the flat of the curves, and his breath caught when his fingers hit a hairline fracture, as if his hand had just sunk into a raw and festering wound. His fingers curled, cringing back with a hiss, and he brushed it off. "I guess you did."

"You didn't notice." Kurosaki's voice was laden with such heavy disappointment, Grimmjow wasn't sure he could place why, until he felt the sudden depth of Kurosaki's guilt. He hadn't noticed his mask was cracked, not among all the other pain he'd been swamped in, and the 'why' suddenly wasn't so elusive.

Grimmjow reached out to grab the front of Kurosaki's shihakusho, pulling him from the wall so they were nearly nose to nose. "I asked for this, you don't get to feel guilty."

Kurosaki scoffed, the self hatred in his voice as evident as the pain in his heart. "It's too late for that." His eyes darkened, and he actually leaned closer. "I'm fixing it."

Grimmjow shivered and his grip loosened. "It can wait." To be honest, his soul already ached, he wasn't sure he could handle it, but his pride wouldn't allow him to say that aloud.

Kurosaki slowly peeled Grimmjow's hand from his shihakusho, calloused fingers tracing strained tendons and knuckles was deliberate care. Grimmjow's grip loosened at Kurosaki's gentle prodding, the hybrid's hand squeezing his palm, careful not to dig his claws into flesh. His hand slipped down to his wrist, eyes flicking down to watch his own progress. Grimmjow swallowed, anger forgotten, and noticed the hybrid was intentionally moving slow, studying him as if he had never seen him before, which he probably hadn't.

Kurosaki's thumb claw traced a vein, depressing his skin, but not slicing flesh, testing his own control. The hybrid's brows furrowed, and his heart was a chaotic mess; Grimmjow couldn't read the thoughts behind those stormy eyes any more than he could understand his soul, and it made him nervous.

Without warning, Kurosaki shifted his grip to ensnare his wrist, and in a motion too quick to track, Grimmjow found his back flattened to the bed, both of his wrists held down by Kurosaki's weight. His heart hammered in newfound panic, but Kurosaki still appeared calm. His guilt had faded to the background, replaced with something intensely determined. The hybrid always looked like that when he had a goal; shoving his fears and worries aside in unhealthy avoidance to focus on the task at hand.

Kurosaki's hair slipped over his shoulder in a cascade of black, blocking the light from the balcony and making this much more intimate than Grimmjow was prepared to handle. A furious blush burned his face, wondering how the hell the hybrid couldn't be aware of what he was doing. "Kurosaki…" But he didn't know what to say.

"You still feel shit because of the crack in your mask. If I wait to fix it, you'll just get weaker like Pesche, and Neliel." The hybrid's words didn't match his actions. His tone was all business, but his hands were...gentle, his palms sliding up along his wrists to hold his hands. It was a strange contradiction, and Kurosaki didn't seem like he wanted to acknowledge it, so Grimmjow pretended not to notice.

Regardless of Kurosaki's proximity, he was genuinely nervous about what Kurosaki was suggesting. It was about as sexy as telling someone telling him they were about to rip his teeth out by the roots with their bare hands; he was scared, and from the look on Kurosaki's face, he knew that. "I don't think-" Grimmjow started.

"You're strong enough," Kurosaki interrupted. "I put a lot of strain on you, I did a lot of damage, but I won't tear you apart." Kurosaki's expression caved in on itself. "That isn't what I want."

Grimmjow looked at something else, he didn't want to see that look in his eyes. So he stared at the wall instead, studying long dried drips of paint and dusty corners. He supposed he couldn't understand Kurosaki. Mortal or not, he had the power of a God, many Gods, and it would only take a bit of pressure, a lapse in judgement, and Grimmjow would be dead. Hell, everyone could be dead. Kurosaki had applied more pressure than he'd intended, with devastating results, and Grimmjow didn't think he couldn't blame him for his guilt.

Kurosaki's kitten analogy came to mind, and beyond his personal disgust at comparing himself to a kitten, it was apt. He was more fragile than he was willing to accept.

A scowl crossed Grimmjow's face, aware this was going to be extremely unpleasant. He snapped, "Fine, just get it over with."

"Look at me."

Grimmjow's inside's twisted at the tone of Kurosaki's voice, both rebelling by the authority woven through it, and fascinated by it. He looked back up at the hybrid, disarmed by the possessive ferocity he saw there. Kurosaki moved his hands away, holding his weight up by one arm to reach for Grimmjow's mask. He was very careful, more so than he needed to be, but Grimmjow understood why, and for once, he couldn't chastise him for it.

His ego took a beating over it, but Grimmjow knew he really was that weak. He pretended he wasn't, but the fact remained that the person pinning him to that bed was a demigod. A wrathful demigod, masquerading as a mortal as much as bound by it.

Sometimes Grimmjow was fooled, but that happened less and less. He moved with too much fluid grace, he didn't blink, and he didn't waver. The burden of exhaustion didn't weigh on him, not anymore. He was too alive, in a way that had nothing to do with living, yet he wasn't dead. He was something else.

And this demigod was looking at him.

Kurosaki's voice broke the silence, startling Grimmjow. "This is going to hurt. A lot." Ichigo settled his weight down on Grimmjow's hips, pinning him in place, and held him still by the mask.

That was proximity Grimmjow didn't have the mental fortitude to unpack, not in the moment. He'd seen Pesche after Kurosaki fixed his mask, and he wasn't envious. "Nice pep talk, Kurosaki."

A smile touched Kurosaki's face, but it didn't linger. "Now shut up, or you'll bite your tongue."

It just got better and better.

The pain hit, and Kurosaki wasn't fucking around, it hurt. Back arching off the bed like he was electrocuted, Grimmjow's hands shot up to claw at the hand on his mask. It felt like Kurosaki had his hand inside his chest, wringing the blood out of his heart. He wouldn't stop and he couldn't breathe, and it didn't feel like it would ever end.

There was just pain, and more pain, his thoughts stuttering over one word. STOP.

And like a dislocated shoulder snapping back into place, it suddenly did stop.

Grimmjow fell back, limp, and gasped for breath. All of his muscles buzzed with the afterburn of trauma that felt dreamlike and surreal. It wasn't real pain, physically he was fine, but his soul felt frail. One hard shove and he would shatter.

Kurosaki moved his hand, Grimmjow sensed the dull and aching sensation of fingers tracing the edges of his mask. That hand shifted to his face, Kurosaki's voice low, like he was calming a frightened animal. "You're okay."

Rough fingers traced beneath his eye, wet and warm. Grimmjow blinked blearily up at Kurosaki and panted, "Shit, am I crying?"

Kurosaki's touch grew more bold, the back of his fingers swiping away whatever evidence of those tears remained. He said, "I just put your heart back together. If you weren't crying, I'd be worried, but if it makes you feel better, it's also sweat."

"Gross," Grimmjow sighed, letting his eyes slip closed. He was exhausted all over again, but his soul didn't ache, which he could only attribute to Kurosaki's handiwork. He muttered, "Fucking embarrassing."

When the hybrid drew his hand away, Grimmjow felt the bed sink near his shoulder, meaning Kurosaki was hovering right over him. The hybrid said dismissively, "I've seen worse."

Grimmjow squinted up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

Oh. Grimmjow was too exhausted to feel embarrassed, he merely closed his eyes. "God, I didn't take you for a voyeur."

"It isn't like I did it on purpose."

Interesting, but not enough to question him.

Minutes passed, and he was still breathing heavily, but he could only assume the reason Kurosaki didn't ask how he was holding up, was because he knew exactly how he was feeling. Grimmjow thought he should feel like his space was invaded, but he was honestly too tired to care. Looking back up at the hybrid, Grimmjow asked, "How long are you gonna hover like that?"

"As long as I want." Kurosaki said.

That was...a blunt answer, and Grimmjow didn't know where to take it. Kurosaki was just watching him, and if he wasn't already used to this, he might have called it creepy. As it was, Kurosaki was a creepy fucker, it wasn't news. As nice as it was to lie in relative silence, Grimmjow changed the subject. "Why did the girl leave?"

"Uncomfortable."

Not a lie but not the truth. "There's more than that."

Kurosaki frowned, annoyed he was being called out. Grimmjow was silent in his insistence, and Kurosaki finally caved, looking away. "You were...upset...sleeping. I asked her to leave."

Grimmjow's eyes widened, a mortified feeling of panic settling into his veins like ice. God, he had a nightmare in front of a shinigami? A stranger? He felt like he was going to be sick. Showing as much weakness as he had was almost too much, but Kurosaki intervened and he still didn't wake up? How wrecked was he if he didn't wake up?

Sensing his panic as much as witnessing it, Kurosaki looked back and insisted, "Hey, relax. It wasn't a nightmare it was just...discomfort."

"Relax?" He didn't know how to do that, this wasn't a situation he'd ever had to confront. How could he face her after that? She wasn't supposed to see that, no one was.

Kurosaki struggled to keep up with his thoughts, and his guess was pretty close. "Rukia's opinion of you isn't any less, Grimmjow."

He didn't give a damn what she thought of him, it was the very fact she saw something he desperately didn't want to be real. Grimmjow grit his teeth and shoved, "Get off." Fighting him only made the situation worse, Ichigo took his wrists and pinned him again, but this time it wasn't gentle. "Kurosaki," Grimmjow hissed.

"It's her opinion of me that's changed, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow paused, because it was a welcome distraction. "I don't get it," he snarled. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I put your soul under stress, Rukia knows what that's like; she lived with the Hogyoku in her soul for months, she faced the Sokyoku, she knows what I did to you, and she knows I hurt you." Kurosaki's voice lost strength by the end, and Grimmjow still squirmed to get free.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes and twisted, but Kurosaki's grip tightened. He didn't want the hybrid to see his panic, he didn't want to feel shame, but Kurosaki wouldn't let him run. "So she pities me? She shouldn't have seen that, any of it." He was talking about everything, not just a moment of weakness. He didn't want it to bother him, but it did. Kurosaki was allowed to invade his privacy, but everyone else? No.

"I know," Kurosaki said. "I know, Grimmjow. But she did, and she knows too. She won't bring it up. She'll let it slide, as she does. It's me she's upset with."

Through his shame, Grimmjow was starting to wrap his mind around what Kurosaki was saying. "What right does she have to judge you?"

"I can't control how she feels, Grimmjow, and I can't control how you feel either."

"You still want me to hate you?" The look in Kurosaki's eyes was answer enough. The hybrid was defeated on that front, he couldn't change Grimmjow's mind, but he wanted to, and frankly witnessing so much self loathing was sickening.

Grimmjow yanked to free himself, and this time Kurosaki let him pull a hand free, but only one. Grimmjow reached straight for the chasm in Kurosaki's chest.

He pushed into his chest, the cold abyss drawing a gasp of pain from Kurosaki. "Now we're even." Grimmjow growled.

Kurosaki let out a tight chuckle, his face as pained as the ache in his soul. "We'll never be even, Grimmjow."

Expression twisting, Grimmjow shouted, "I say we're even! She gets no right to judge, this is between you and me, Kurosaki."

"You, me...and the Gotei 13," Kurosaki scoffed.

"Fine, fuck what they think!"

Kurosaki grimaced under Grimmjow's hand and spoke through clenched teeth. "Kinda hypocritical to tell me not to care when you do."

"What the fuck is it you say? As I say, not as I do, Kurosaki."

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but it was wiped out by loathing. "They're right to judge me, though."

Grimmjow briefly forgot about escape and growled, "Fuck what they think."

Kurosaki gave him a gently chiding look. "I judge me."

"I know, you stupid fuck, I know!" He pushed his hand deeper into Kurosaki's chest, encountering a shocking amount of resistance. Shocking, because he'd never tried this nor encountered it before, yet it made sense. Kurosaki's soul was dense, more so than should be possible, but he was also host to God's; it was a miracle they hadn't bitten his hand off for daring to be so bold.

The hybrid's face twisted in anguish, but there was a sharp light of satisfaction in his eyes. This was what the sick fuck wanted, but he was still too powerful for even this to hurt him.

Grimmjow's lip curled in a snarl, tone incredulous and full of a disgust he didn't actually feel. "You can't enjoy this?"

Kurosaki was breathless, searching his face for a reaction. "I might."

"You think you deserve it," Grimmjow said. "You think you deserve worse."

Grimmjow tried to pull his hand back, irritated he was giving Kurosaki exactly what he wanted, but the hybrid caught him by the wrist, not letting him back down. "Don't I?"

Grimmjow ground his teeth in rage and growled, "Doing the God thing again. Who are you to judge what you do or don't deserve?" He demanded, "Let go and get off me!"

After a brief moment of internal conflict, Kurosaki's grip slackened and Grimmjow jerked his hand free, numb from his fingertips to his wrist. His hand was uncomfortably cold, joints stiff and protesting as he curled his hand into a fist.

Grimmjow sat up, grabbing Kurosaki by the face to throw him down to his back. He knew Kurosaki would let him, the stupid asshole would let him skewer him with Pantera if that's what he wanted to do. Panting in exertion, Grimmjow cursed his weakness. Temporary, maybe, but it was just a reminder of his shortcomings.

Grimmjow settled back on Kurosaki's lap, feeling strange to be the one on top him, for once, even if he'd asked for it. Ignoring the connotations behind that, his grip on Kurosaki's face loosened, until it was far from violent. It was different to touch without the intent to harm, and neither of them seemed entirely comfortable with it.

Kurosaki just watched him, warm breath from his nose humid as it ghosted along the back of Grimmjow's hand. The hybrid was breathing hard, and Grimmjow didn't think it had anything to do with the abuse. "You want me to hurt you?" No response, but the look in Kurosaki's eyes was tumultuous and dark. Grimmjow's heart pounded, relaxing his hand, fingers smoothing along his cheek as his hand migrated to his throat. Kurosaki swallowed, he felt the bob of his throat against his palm and the tensing of corded muscle. Grimmjow marveled at that for a moment. For someone so powerful to let him so close, with a desire Grimmjow didn't think he could even fulfill, was exhilarating.

Finally, Grimmjow spoke, his voice thicker than he recognized. "I don't think I can." He wasn't sure if he meant that literally or not, but the longer the words hung in the air, the more he realized it was a bit of both.

Kurosaki raised a hand, catching Grimmjow's attention. The hybrid reached for Pantera, fingers closing around the handle. He stilled, silently asking permission, and Grimmjow made no move to stop him. Sliding the sword from the sheath with a slow slide of metal, Kurosaki lifted and studied the blade, then reached up to touch, the pads of his fingers smoothing along the steel of his weapon. Darkness swarmed over the blade in a thin layer, so Pantera looked matte black and he felt the sticky cling of la sangre, like smoke in his lungs.

Turning the sword around in his hands, Kurosaki offered it hilt first back to him. "Now try."

"Kuros-"

"Try," Kurosaki whispered. Grimmjow's face twisted, distraught. Kurosaki was practically begging, and for something Grimmjow wasn't sure he wanted to do. No, that wasn't true, Grimmjow just didn't want to cave to his demands; Kurosaki always got what he wanted. At least from him.

Turning Pantera over in his hand, Grimmjow muttered, "You're such a selfish bastard."

To his surprise, Kurosaki agreed. "Yeah."

Grimmjow added for good measure, "And fucked in the head."

"Seems like it," Kurosaki agreed again.

Letting out a disapproving grunt, Grimmjow turned his sword over in his palm, not having thought he would be in this position. Not even close.

Stabbing his sword through Kurosaki's hollow hole, the hybrid sucked in a desperate breath, the discomfort mirrored through Alteza. Grimmjow grit his teeth, leaning on his sword, but encountering so much less resistance than before. The edge of his sword touched the black void of his hollow hole, pressing against flesh.

Kurosaki grit his teeth, claws gripping and shredding the comforter beneath him, but there was gratitude in his eyes, the crazy fuck.

Too many emotions to grapple with swam in his chest, fighting over his heart. There was a certain thrill to this, to making a demigod cringe in pain, the same demigod that stole his future, his soul...and his heart. And that was exactly the reason it hurt; he couldn't imagine a future without him. He didn't want him to die, he didn't want him to change. He could admit that was stupid and selfish to want to keep this broken and angry version of Kurosaki, but he loved him, even his painfully self destructive tendencies. "God, Kurosaki, does this really help?"

"I dunno, but I want it," his eyes flashed with something hungry and violent. "The same way I want to tear you apart. I want it."

Grimmjow lessened the pressure on the blade, uncertain, and Kurosaki bared his teeth. "Don't stop."

"If I want to stop?" Grimmjow asked. His grip on his sword was damp with sweat, readjusting his grip while he fished for an excuse. "We're even Kurosaki."

"I don't care." Kurosaki's eyes darkened further. "You told me to be selfish. I'm being selfish."

He had said that, and the look in in the hybrid's eyes was far from bad. No, it was something he'd never even seen before. Grimmjow put his weight behind the sword, and to his shock, whatever Kurosaki had done to Pantera, he drew blood. His stomach twisted in morbid fascination, eyes tracking the welling red blood as it spilled over the rim of the hole in his chest, dripping down the blade to soak the sheets. He couldn't remember the last time he'd drawn blood from Kurosaki, and even if it was cheating, it was mesmerizing. Grimmjow said, "You can't like this."

Kurosaki raised a hand, covering Grimmjow's hand on the hilt with one that trembled. His grip on his hand squeezed gently, reassuringly. "I like it. It hurts," He let out a breathless laugh, "It hurts a lot, but it isn't Alteza, or die Konigin, or Sunyata, it's you."

Grimmjow looked pointedly at his sword, at the inky dark of la sangre spread over the blade, and Kurosaki let out a breathless chuckle. "I'll work with what I've got."

A grimace locked on his face, Grimmjow couldn't take his eyes from the blood, and he couldn't ignore the widening pit in his stomach. "I can't do this."

Kurosaki chided, "If you didn't want to, we wouldn't be here."

"That's a load of shit," Grimmjow snarled, yet he didn't pull the sword away, and Kurosaki's hand on his didn't pressure him to do anything, he simply held him.

"You have a confusing heart, Grimmjow, but you like it." Kurosaki struggled to smile through a gasp. "It's...what's the word?"

An echo of Kurosaki's voice spoke from behind him. "Cathartic." Grimmjow's head whipped around and he found himself face to face with Zangetsu, stopping himself short before he stabbed himself with an angled horn.

Grimmjow hissed, "Watch it with those."

Zangetsu ignored him, pressing a palm to his back, just over his heart. "Did he tell you to stop?"

The chiding amusement in his voice made him bristle, defensive, but it also cast a shiver over his shoulders he hadn't ever felt before. It wasn't fear, not entirely. "You can't be okay with this."

Zangetsu leaned his weight against his Grimmjow's back, pressuring him forward, and reached around him for Pantera, his hand replacing Kurosaki's. Grimmjow's heart pounded, looking from the hollow, back down to Kurosaki. With the hybrid trapped and literally impaled beneath him, Grimmjow wondered if he wasn't reading too far into the situation. Then Zangetsu spoke in his ear, a voice always tinged in malice, now almost playful. "Does it feel like he hates this?"

From the depth of his tone and the pressure against his back, Grimmjow knew he wasn't referring to Alteza. A blush burned on his cheeks and with a shove from Zangetsu, he leaned into the sword. Kurosaki twisted beneath him with a deep groan, one that was too deep and long to be a sound of pain, and his hips moved. He felt that, he definitely felt it. "For fuck's sake, you're a kinky bastard, Kurosaki."

Kurosaki was breathing hard, hair strew around him in careless tangles, and if it wasn't for the pain, it might have looked compromising. No, it looked really compromising. The hybrid's brows drew together, eyes narrowed, and he bit his lip, as if uncertain. "Can't help it."

That was probably true. Grimmjow blushed a little harder, moving his other hand to Kurosaki's stomach to brace himself. That was a mistake. Kurosaki flexed, arching up against his hand, and Grimmjow tensed. Beyond physical strength, he had a direct connection to the ocean of reiryoku at Kurosaki's disposal. It was like feeling a behemoth stir beneath his hand, and he let out a pained sound not unlike a whimper.

Kurosaki was there, right beneath his hand, and he was giving him so much more power than he should.

Instead of face that, Grimmjow glanced back at Zangetsu and demanded, "And what the fuck are you doing here?"

"First of all, rude. King was losing his nerve, frankly, so were you. I thought I'd give you a push."

Grimmjow eyed him, as well as he could when the hollow kept to his back, but he had to wonder what Zangetsu meant. Nerve for what? Grimmjow ignored that train of thought and turned back to Kurosaki, sliding his hand on his stomach higher. His shihakusho bunched under the push of his palm, but the edge of his hollow hole was bare.

His fingertips brushed the rim, and Kurosaki stopped. He stopped moving, breathing, the hybrid only watched, breath suspended until his fingers retreated from the singed edge. Kurosaki collapsed onto the bed, letting out a long sigh, and Grimmjow had to pause. He traced the rim again, and Kurosaki reacted. It was a punch in the gut to feel. Kurosaki needed more, denying it almost felt cruel.

Grimmjow had never felt like he had control until that moment, and from the hazed and fearful look in Kurosaki's eyes, the feeling was mutual.

Zangetsu's hand disappeared from the sword, but he lingered behind him, close enough to intervene, yet it didn't give him the feeling of being watched that he might have expected.

Grimmjow smoothed his fingers over the edge of his hollow hole, tugging and clawing the edge. Kurosaki made a sound not unlike a whine. The stress he felt from Kurosaki was something akin to refusing to scratch an itch. Grimmjow watched, fascinated, and murmured, "If you wanted foreplay, you could have asked."

Kurosaki's expression twisted and he admitted, "I don't know what I want."

And why would he? Grimmjow froze, remembering something vitally important; Kurosaki was young. Trapped in a war since he was a teenager, none of this would have been pressing. It wasn't like Grimmjow was rolling in experience after a few decades cannibalizing his kin, but he remembered his life, and Kurosaki had been right. He remembered better things, a life with people that mattered.

Grimmjow was fragile under the will of this demigod, but the fear in Kurosaki's eyes suddenly made sense to him. He had the hybrid's heart, and it was power he hadn't realized he'd had, not to this extent.

"You want me to hurt you…" Grimmjow parroted. That was the closest thing to a request he'd gotten. Grimmjow pulled the sword from his chest and Kurosaki fell back on the bed with a disappointed sigh. "Relax Kurosaki, I'm doing what you want." Tossing his sword away, Grimmjow held up his hand in Kurosaki's face. "Do whatever you did to Pantera."

The hybrid blinked, and warned, "It'll hurt."

"I don't give a shit."

Frowning, Kurosaki took his hand in his own, his thumb pressed to his palm. La sangre licked and crawled over his skin, but now he saw lines of light streaking over the back of his hand. It stung, burning in a way he recognized. "Die Konigin? Is this all of them?"

"Why do you think it hurt me so easily?" Kurosaki asked.

"I didn't know you could do that."

A nervous smile spread across Ichigo's face. "It's getting easier."

That was better than loathing, Grimmjow could live with that. He leaned over Kurosaki, and he hesitated. This time felt different. This time he knew exactly what he was doing, he wanted to do it, and Kurosaki was anticipating it. Kurosaki's eyes swarmed with emotion Grimmjow couldn't name or place, but nothing in his eyes suggested he should stop. Grimmjow licked his lips, and pressed his entire palm down into his chest. There was barely resistance, but from the subtle roll of Kurosaki's hips, he definitely felt it, the sheer sensation overwhelming even second hand.

His palm pressed down to the hot blood dampening the comforter, the cut he'd made with Pantera still freely oozing blood. His arm was clean through his chest, it was as invasive as he could possibly be, but Kurosaki's reaction was far from negative.

From the way he moved, Grimmjow might as well have his hand around Kurosaki's heart. The hybrid lifted his arms over his head and gripped the comforter, startling Grimmjow. He'd just given him the ability to cut right through his hierro, his soul, and he was making a point to be vulnerable. It was as good as begging, but what Kurosaki wanted, Grimmjow couldn't answer, all of this was new. They didn't touch, that was just how it was. To let him this close was just about as frightening for Grimmjow as it was for Kurosaki.

Somehow, without moving, Grimmjow invoked nothing but motion from Kurosaki. It was subtle, but compared to the stillness he was used to seeing, it was everything. Kurosaki was breathing hard, something he didn't even see when they sparred. His hands kneaded the comforter, hiding the tremble Grimmjow knew he'd see should he stop.

Physically and emotionally, it was painful and draining, yet the slow and deliberate move of his hips was too obvious to ignore. Kurosaki liked this, a lot. The look in his eyes made Grimmjow feel daring, despite the weight of Zangetsu's hand between his shoulders. Bracing himself on the hand through Kurosaki's chest, he slid his other hand down, his fingers hooking over a cloth belt. He was stopped by a firm grip and the sharp press of Zangetsu's horn along the side of his neck.

"No."

Grimmjow swallowed, the action drawing blood from the sharp edge of that horn, and Ichigo said nothing. Now Grimmjow understood why Zangetsu was there at all. Kurosaki really was scared, it was a miracle he'd made it this far. Glancing back, Grimmjow asked, "Chaperoning?"

"I'll stop you," Zangetsu answered, eyes flicking back down to Kurosaki. "King will skewer you."

"Fair point," Grimmjow muttered. He'd like to think he could read the hybrid, but even Kurosaki couldn't read Kurosaki. His inner hollow knew him best, and if he said no, he was probably seconds away from assault.

Once Grimmjow removed his hand, Zangetsu freed his wrist and leaned back, watching with an intensity to rival his wielder. Making peace with the hollow's presence, Grimmjow turned his attention back to Kurosaki, and the sharp, burning lines racing over his forearm. It was numbed by the sheer density of Kurosaki's soul, but if he didn't do something soon, his hand was going to be too numb to listen to him.

It had been several long minutes since Kurosaki had said anything at all, but that look in his eyes was the same. In the same way he'd egged Kurosaki on last night, the hybrid now did the same. Do it. The demand shone in his eyes like shame and passion and rage, and despite all his bluster, he always gave Kurosaki what he wanted.

Twisting his wrist, Grimmjow raked his fingers across the inside of his hollow hole like claws, earning him a stuttered gasp of pain. Grimmjow didn't let up, doubling over him to get closer, so close that when his hair fell down into his face, it almost brushed Kurosaki's nose. He was almost too close, putting himself directly between those savage horns.

His strength wasn't what it could have been, not after fixing his mask, but the layer of energy covering his skin seemed to be enough. Kurosaki writhed, but held himself back with restraint Grimmjow wasn't sure he'd ever known. His emotions were too wild to understand, so Grimmjow ignored them, at the center of that chaos with the faith he wouldn't be caught in its path.

Beyond the wants and needs of the hybrid below him, Grimmjow realized this was indeed cathartic. It was cheating, but it still felt earned. Watching his gasps of pain, feeling his body tremble and protest, was sickeningly bittersweet. Kurosaki wanted it, but so did he. Grimmjow needed to see proof that he'd done something, that Kurosaki was changed under his hands, and molded into something new.

Tearing at Kurosaki's seams so roughly drew a moan from the other, the volume surprising after he'd been so quiet. Kurosaki looked like he was fighting the urge to react, but Zangetsu didn't intervene, so Grimmjow saw no reason to stop. He didn't see cause for caution either.

He was angry at the hybrid, but he couldn't pin down a reason. Angry for dragging him into this, angry for making him give a shit. The hybrid was a honeytrap for the brutal, bloodthirsty side of himself, but he stayed for his strength, his loyalty, and he couldn't fathom leaving.

Grimmjow finally dropped his hips down, trapping Kurosaki under his weight and initiating more contact than either of them had ever had outside of a fight. Kurosaki couldn't keep his hands to himself any longer, his hand suddenly around Grimmjow's throat. The pressure was gentle compared to what Grimmjow was used to, so he ignored it. The subtle threat didn't stop Grimmjow, nor did he relent. He scored the inside of his hollow hole, the hybrid tensing in pain. Grimmjow still had Kurosaki's undivided attention, so he goaded him. "Scared, Kurosaki?"

Something like shame shadowed Kurosaki's face, filling Grimmjow with disgust and satisfaction. He did and didn't enjoy that look, the contradiction was unsettling. "Could kill me with a thought, but this is too much? You asked for this." Kurosaki clenched his jaw and glared, the hand on his throat tightening. Grimmjow knew it wasn't the pain that was the problem here, but he wanted to get under his skin, and he wanted it to hurt.

Grimmjow growled, "Come on, Kurosaki, ya don't gotta hold back. Not for this." The words left his mouth and Grimmjow didn't know what he meant by 'this'. This. His hand was inside Kurosaki, his pain and pleasure belonged to him as much as his heart. Kurosaki only had eyes for him, could only feel him, and it was addicting to be the center of that immense focus and power.

"Say something," Grimmjow hissed.

Kurosaki's nerve was shattered, there were no walls between Grimmjow and Kurosaki's confused need, but Grimmjow needed to hear him say something, anything.

Kurosaki sucked in a breath and groaned, "You're talking enough for the both of us."

Grimmjow quirked his head to the side, handing him that. "Hard to guess what you want, Kurosaki." And if talking prompted some sort of reaction, it was all the better.

Leaning back just enough to get a good look at him, Grimmjow asked, "What's got you so worked up? The pain? My ass? What is it?"

Kurosaki's lips parted with a sharp inhale, his hips rocking up at mention of his ass, and his answer was simple. "You."

A shiver of pleasure washed up his arms and broke over his shoulders, his mouth going dry at the intensity of Kurosaki's eyes. Grimmjow shifted his legs so he was no longer sitting on top of Kurosaki, but straddling his thigh, shoving his knee up against his groin.

"Hhhhnnn, Grimmjow." Kurosaki's warning was accompanied by Zangetsu's hand on the back of his neck, claws digging in to the side of his throat.

Grimmjow stilled, but didn't take his eyes from Kurosaki. "Relax, I'm not gonna move, Kurosaki." Confusion danced in the hybrid's eyes, and Grimmjow continued, "You are."

Zangetsu removed his hand, likely at Kurosaki's prompting, and dragged his claws down Grimmjow's back, scoring his jacket and teasing pain that never came. Grimmjow's breath caught, arching away from his hand with gritted teeth.

Kurosaki watched, wide eyed, and loosened his grip on his throat to pet from his neck to his sternum. He was being careful, tracing tense muscles with exploratory curiosity. Reaching his chest, Kurosaki let his hand return to the shredded comforter, sinking his claws back through cotton in a desperate bid to keep them there.

"Move, Kurosaki," Grimmjow ordered, tugging the rim of his hollow hole with a punishing grip.

To his continued shock, Kurosaki obeyed, his body rippling in a serpentine wave, grinding up against his thigh. Grimmjow squeezed the sheets, letting out a heady breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, a shaky thing that melted together with the soft whimper Kurosaki let slip.

Without meaning to, Grimmjow's hips twitched forward, canines sinking into his lower lip in a panicked need to cease moving, but Kurosaki didn't notice that misstep. Corded muscle bunching, Kurosaki kept moving, humping his leg in slow but deliberate rolls of his hips. The motion was steeped in careful control, a dim haze of fear in Kurosaki's eyes.

The hybrid's lips parted, panting interrupted by the pleasure of friction. The hybrid felt vulnerable, that was obvious; he wasn't blinking, he wasn't relaxing, but he craved it.

Kurosaki murmured, "You want to say something."

Grimmjow licked his lips and took a risk. "Just enjoying myself. Got a demigod humping my leg like a dog."

Kurosaki's eyes darkened with shame and lust, legs clamping tight around his thigh, hard enough to hurt, but that didn't seem to be Kurosaki's intention, it was his honest reaction. Grimmjow struggled not to react, his muscles bunching in restraint he wasn't used to using. Kurosaki breathed, hard and deep, and clenching tight around his legs, he suddenly let his knees fall apart again, wider than before. Kurosaki kept moving his hips, this time grinding harder.

That was interesting. Zangetsu hadn't made any move to stop him, so he took that as a sign to continue. "Selfish fucker," he hissed. "Getting off on using me?"

Kurosaki let out a choked groan, hips jerking again. Grimmjow leaned closer and growled, "I belong to you, don't I?"

"So what am I? A toy?" He pushed down with his hips, grinding his leg down painfully into his groin. "A pet."

Kurosaki's answer was strangled through a pained moan. "Miiiine."

Grimmjow didn't even think about it, he fell forward, lips clashing against Kurosaki's. His mouth slipped against the hybrid's, tangled in a moan, wet and hot.

Then he was gone.

Grimmjow caught himself in the bed, blinking down at the space Kurosaki had just been. He ran.

Kurosaki ran.

Far away, someplace Grimmjow couldn't follow even if he tried. Something suffocating and tight wrapped around his heart, his throat tight in pain.

"Shit."

Sitting back on his knees, Grimmjow cast his eyes around the room, swiping a hand over his face. He couldn't help but fear he'd crossed a line. It was as good as a bucket of cold water for whatever libido Kurosaki had sparked.

Eyes falling to the blood he'd spilled on the sheets, he reached for it, wet and warm on his fingertips. He sat there for a long time, but Kurosaki didn't come back, and he'd shut himself off emotionally, it was like feeling along a wall.

Sunyata. He'd driven him back behind that wall he loathed, that was his fault. His fault.

His fault.

Fuck, that hurt, and there was no Sunyata to take it away.

In a wash of anger, Grimmjow stood, retrieving Pantera from the floor where he'd thrown it. He noticed whatever Kurosaki had done to his sword and hand had receded, his blood wasn't even present on the blade. Likely devoured by la sangre, just like everything else.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Grimmjow balanced the tip of Pantera on the ground, spinning the hilt in his hands. He was restless, his mind overwhelmed with nothing but the hope Kurosaki would come back.

He wasn't sure how much time passed like that, but those events played over and over again in his mind, resisting the urge to lift his hand to his lips. The kiss did it, the one thing he hadn't meant to do. A kiss he couldn't stop thinking about. It was just the most non violent thing he'd ever done as an arrancar.

So lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the shinigami until she turned the door handle. Jumping to his feet, he whirled, Pantera raised in threat, then wondered why Jed done that. She was no threat, not to anything but his desire for solitude.

Rukia stepped into the room, heedless of his wants, and her eyes raked over his sword, fearless, and settled on the blood on the bed. Her eyes snapped to Grimmjow's, demanding, "Where is he?"

"Somewhere else. He'll come back when he's ready." The hybrid never hid from responsibility for long, regardless of his own desires.

Feeling foolish with his weapon drawn and brandished for no damn good reason, Grimmjow sheathed it and sat back on the bed. Rukia stood there long enough that Grimmjow snapped, "Just gonna stand there all day?"

"You had a fight?"

Eyes snapping to the shinigami, Grimmjow recovered and snarled, "Shut the fuck up."

She studied him, then moved to the other bed, sitting across from him. Her posture was different, she sat much straighter, her hands in her lap. Her presence felt different, distant.

"You pissed off at me, or Kurosaki?" Grimmjow asked.

She tightened her lips, eyes narrowing in annoyance, then her gaze slipped to his neck, and he remembered that was probably still very bruised. She spoke, voice tight. "Both of you."

"Ain't any of your fuckin' business, shinigami."

"It isn't," she agreed tightly.

They sat, glaring at each other for another long minute before Grimmjow got tired of it and dragged the problem into the light. He growled, "Yer mad at Kurosaki for a stupid fucking reason."

Her eye twitched, hands clenching on her shihakusho. "What would you know about it, arrancar."

Grimmjow wasn't in the mood, frankly he wanted to be alone, but leaving the room felt too much like pussying out of a fight. He bared his teeth and snapped, "Don't like that he knocks me around, do you?"

"It's wrong!" She blurted.

And there it was, the judgement Kurosaki feared, the monster that haunted him from a past no one else remembered. Grimmjow sneered. "And you all wonder why Kurosaki keeps secrets."

"He hurt you."

Shrugging, Grimmjow said, "He does that a lot."

Her face fell, confused. "Why?"

"Ask him," Grimmjow grunted.

"He won't tell me."

"Them's the fuckin breaks."

"You know why." She glared at him a long moment and demanded, "Tell me."

"Why should I?" He sneered. "We ain't friends."

He thought she might have looked a bit hurt, but she hid it well. "I want to try to understand."

Grimmjow watched her, wondering if she was being genuine, and struggled to find a reason to deny her. Kurosaki liked her, the pain on his face at her absence had been real, and the hybrid had been hurt plenty that day. If not for her, he'd swallow his pride and do it for Kurosaki. "You must have noticed how adverse Kurosaki is to touch. He made damn sure none of you knew about his other life for a reason. You know it was bad, but it was shit, even by hollow standards."

"He told you?" she asked, enough of a waver in her tone that Grimmjow had to wonder if it wasn't envy.

"He had to tell somebody, he was going fucking crazy."

She blanched, remembering that in detail.

Grimmjow shrugged, as if that was enough to disguise the weight of his words. "Pain isn't a stranger to him, neither is rage. He responds with what he knows."

The shinigami's lips turned down in a disappointed frown. "You don't have to encourage it."

"He's not human, he's not shinigami; even before the Gods he was something different. He's the loneliest goddamn person I've ever seen, and he's barely stable. If I'm too fragile for him, so fucking be it. If he wants to hurt me, the fuck else can I give him?"

Grimmjow snapped his mouth shut, not having meant to make his answer so personal. Rukia looked startled, and Grimmjow considered leaving again. He covered it up before the silence became too uncomfortable to break. "Kurosaki is complicated."

Rukia kept staring at him, long enough that Grimmjow started to fidget. "That answer enough, shinigami?"

"You're saying he can't change."

Casting her a confused look, Grimmjow wondered if she was naive or hopeful, to think Kurosaki hadn't made some sort of progress. "He's already changed, for the better and the worst. But Kurosaki's still got issues, he's dangerous, and by his logic, better me than you."

Her eyes narrowed, studying him. "You're fine with that?"

At first it had been a point of defiance. This overpowered fucker wants him as his fraccion? Fuck that. Then he wanted to use Kurosaki to get stronger, but that rapidly evolved into loyalty, and then something he couldn't even name. Was he fine with being used? Yes. But that wasn't the word he'd use to describe it. It was more like a need. "I fuckin volunteered, now back off."

"You really think it helps?"

"I don't fucking know, alright?" Grimmjow clenched his jaw, biting back more words. He was getting worked up, she was getting under his skin.

She tilted her head, brows furrowing in a glimmer of understanding. "I'm not questioning if you care about him, I know you do."

Grimmjow bared his teeth in distaste, desperately wanting to shut her up. He wasn't defensive, just pissed off at how invasive she was. "So tell me, shinigami, what's the point of all of this?" She opened her mouth, indignant, and Grimmjow realized he didn't give a shit, cutting her off. "Kurosaki is who he is, he ain't gonna change cause you hate him."

"I don't-"

"You didn't see the look on his face." As hurt as he felt, seeing her face fall in distress gave him a sick twist of satisfaction. "You thought you knew what he was about, you didn't. Is that his fault? Nah, he ain't responsible for that."

Grimmjow stood up, prompting her to stand as well, but he still towered over her. "He gets enough shit from everyone else, he doesn't deserve it from the people he calls friends." She flinched at that word, looking away in guilt, and Grimmjow was relentless. "He's not what you thought, shinigami. I dunno what's more of a shame, that he can't hide from you anymore, or that the truth makes you hate him."

Silence rang in the space between them, he could feel his blood rushing in his ears. The shinigami wouldn't look at him. Good. He wanted her to feel like shit, it felt justified and filthy all at the same time. He reached for her, getting a fistfull of the front of her shihakusho, and stopped short. Kurosaki's hand was around his wrist like he'd never left.

Both of them flinched, and Kurosaki swayed back like he hadn't even realized that might be unsettling. Startling or not, Kurosaki didn't let go of his wrist, locking eyes, steady and unblinking. With his heart smothered by Sunyata, he looked at him like he looked at anyone else. It was even worse than before, because now Grimmjow knew why he did it, and he was the cause.

Grimmjow stared back at him, wide eyed, until Kurosaki spoke. "Let her go."

That was an order, one without room for compromise. He came back explicitly to stop him, not for him, and that hurt just as much. Why did Kurosaki go to such lengths for these people? They hybrid gave them everything and they did nothing but judge him and hate him. He was losing everything, the hybrid couldn't even stand to look at his reflection. He looked at the dark swaths of his own hair with such loathing, it turned Grimmjow's stomach.

But Grimmjow gave him everything in return; his soul, his body, his heart, and Kurosaki still ran from him. It ached, but anger was easier than pain. Grimmjow snarled, "If I refuse?"

Kurosaki's emotion hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks. Whatever grip Kurosaki had on Sunyata was suddenly gone. Using his lapse in focus, Kurosaki easily uncurled Grimmjow's fingers from Rukia's shihakusho, stepping between the shinigami and Grimmjow like a shield. Rukia started, "Ichi...go."

Kurosaki ignored her, pushing Grimmjow's hand back against his own chest, until the back of his legs touched the mattress. That cold and distant look in his eyes was nowhere to be found; amber eyes swam with guilt.

Reading silent lips, Grimmjow saw the words Kurosaki tried and failed to speak. I'm sorry. The hybrid swallowed, gathering his nerve, and managed to find the words. "Don't blame Rukia for my shortcomings."

"What do you know?" Grimmjow hissed.

He moved to pull his hand away, but Kurosaki kept it trapped, ignoring his rage as if it wasn't there. "I've already lied to you, Grimmjow." He spoke his name slowly, savoring every letter and syllable of his name. It sent a shiver up Grimmjow's spine, but he wasn't going to let himself be lulled in.

"Yeah, I get it," Grimmjow growled. He leaned back, but Kurosaki didn't budge. "So fuck off."

"No, you really don't," Kurosaki said. Grimmjow inhaled to speak, but Kurosaki's thumb was on his lower lip, tracing the curve of it, rough and dry, and Grimmjow's thoughts stuttered to a halt under a touch so gentle.

Kurosaki's hand shifted lower, clawed fingers raking along his jaw, down along the nape of his neck. He held him, genuine panic in his eyes, but beneath that, he looked undeniably determined. Grimmjow didn't move, he barely even breathed, uncertain what might spook Kurosaki into fight or flight.

So careful of his horns, Kurosaki leaned closer, pressing his forehead to Grimmjow's. His nose pressed against his cheek, his breath hot against his lips, and Grimmjow's breath caught in his throat, frozen in anticipation of what he wanted. Kurosaki's claws dug into the back of his neck, dragging him closer, and he kissed him. Kurosaki kissed him, soft and careful and disgustingly sweet, something neither of them understood.

Grimmjow remembered salty lips, sun-warmed skin, and tangled brown hair. Kurosaki was nothing like that. The gentle press of his lips were reverent, so afraid he would break Grimmjow by pure accident. His lips were pliant, but not so soft, and not so timid. His skin buzzed with reiatsu so dense and powerful, only his instincts were aware of it. This 'man' was dangerous; he was violence and judgement and wrath, and he chose him, Grimmjow. Nothing but an arrancar.

Kurosaki pulled away, so close that when he spoke, his lips brushed his skin. "I always ask too much of you," His whisper was so quiet, Grimmjow almost didn't hear him over the rush of blood in his ears and the rise and fall of their breath. "Be patient with me."

A carelessly voiced request, not an order. Grimmjow hissed quietly, "You don't make it easy."

"I know."

Kurosaki leaned back, but his hand remained on the back of his neck. The hybrid turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand relocating to the center of Grimmjow's back to fist in his jacket and yank him down to sit beside him. Grimmjow had no qualms about that, but he'd forgotten Rukia was there.

She stared at them both, her hands fisted on his knees, a blush bright on her face. At the very least, her blush matched his own, and it made it a little bit less embarrassing. Kurosaki said, "Can you work with me, Rukia, or should I find someone else?"

Her mouth worked, then snapped shut, staring at Grimmjow in shock. Grimmjow realized that whatever secondhand feelings she was getting from Kurosaki, this hadn't been it. He felt a little smug, that Kurosaki had ignored her discomfort and his own, for his sake. That was selfish, but fuck if he just didn't care at the moment.

Kurosaki tried again. "Rukia."

"So...are you…" Her shoulders fell in defeat, her eyes settling on Kurosaki. "I don't understand."

Kurosaki leaned forward on his knees and looked away, reordering his thoughts. "Neither do I, Rukia. I'm trying." He shrugged. "You don't approve? Okay...most don't, that's fine."

Grimmjow growled, "How's that-" He bit his tongue at the look Kurosaki shot him, and looked at something else. He and Rukia weren't going to get along. Fine. It wasn't his problem how Kurosaki dealt with her.

Turning his attention back on Rukia, he let out a soft sigh. "I'm not asking you to approve, and I'm not asking you to change. Can you work with me?"

Hurt softened her features, but she shoved it back down. "Yes."

"You sure, shinigami. Hollows don't play nice."

Rukia stood, replacing her sword at her hip. Her hand lingered on the hilt, her eyes downcast, thoughtful. The moment dragged, but she turned to face Kurosaki, startling Grimmjow with a low bow.

"Rukia-"

"Ichigo," she cut him off, her tone sharp, but weary. "I was thinking of you as a human, as a teenager, and that isn't––that's not fair to you. Grimmjow is right."

"Stand up, Rukia, please."

"I'm not done!" she snapped, but her voice smoothed out. "Let me finish." Kurosaki said nothing, but the urge to speak was written all over his face. "Nothing but my perception of you is different, Ichigo. I'm still honored you think of me as a friend, and I'm just as honored to work with you. I'm sorry I didn't respond in kind." She straightened, her eyes just a bit glassy, but she held them back. "Nothing's is perfect, I should know that by now. I don't really understand, but I trust you...I do."

She folded her arms, defensive, and glanced at Grimmjow. "He makes you happy. I know that, everyone knows that." A deep blush lit up her cheeks, one of shame, and she looked back to Ichigo. "I wasn't supposed to see this, any of this, was I?"

Kurosaki struggled to hold her gaze, but kept it when she gave him a small, embarrassed smile. "I messed that up didn't I? I reacted exactly the way you feared I would. I could make excuses, but they're excuses." She swallowed and said, "I want to be here...say something."

The silence got to Grimmjow too, it was hard to read Kurosaki, he always held the power, whether he intended to or not. Kurosaki stood and reached out to ruffle her hair. She swat at his hand, but there wasn't much fight behind it. He said, "It means more than you think that you'll stay, shrimp. The reason why doesn't hurt."

Rukia scoffed, but grimaced through a smile, fighting tears. He knew what it was like to be accepted by Kurosaki. It felt good, and it hurt, all at once. It never felt deserved, but it felt good all the same.

She halfheartedly attempted to fix her hair and said, "I want to be here, but maybe not right now, if you're going to...carry on."

Both he and Grimmjow blushed, Grimmjow indignant and Kurosaki flustered. Rukia laughed, nervous, and said, "You'll be happy to know I couldn't um, feel that, you know, through this soul...uh-"

Grimmjow abruptly stood. "Okay, I'm tired of being here, let's go somewhere else. It's too cramped."

A small smile snuck onto Kurosaki's face, something sad, but calm, layered with emotions Grimmjow wasn't sure he could decipher. But he looked happy. "Somewhere else, you say?"

"Kuro-"

Too late, they were suddenly knee-deep in flowers and grass, on a hilltop surrounded by nothing but snow ridden mountains. Only god knew where the fuck they were. Or Kurosaki. Grimmjow turned a circle, surrounded by flowery confetti of purples and pinks and yellows. He growled. "I hate it."

Rukia made a sound not unlike a squeal and turned in a wide, disgustingly happy circle. "It's beautiful! Where are we?"

Kurosaki sat and said, "Does it matter? This is where we're gonna be until everyone calms down."

"You like this?" Grimmjow growled.

Laying back, Kurosaki folded his arms under his head and closed his eyes. He said, "Maybe I do."

Grimmjow scowled down at him, then sat beside him, watching Rukia pick flowers with a smile. Grimmjow asked, "Are we gonna talk about that?"

"About what?"

"You ran," Grimmjow said.

"I came back."

Grimmjow looked away, folding his legs to lean on his knees. He ignored the field, frowning at Kurosaki until the hybrid finally sighed and opened his eyes. "What's bothering you, Grimmjow?"

His eyes slipped to the shinigami, humming to herself while she fussed with the flowers she'd picked. Rukia was having a goddamned ball over there, but maybe that was why they were here. It wasn't cramped and there were flowers. He should have been more specific when he griped.

"Grimmjow."

He was stalling. He didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted it acknowledged. Kurosaki had already done that, in a way, but he was nervous. "Am I going to scare you away?"

Kurosaki sighed. "Ah...I see." The hybrid watched the clouds for a moment, then rolled to his side, looking up at him. That was deliberate, he was purposefully keeping himself low, he was being intentionally submissive, making himself as little of a threat as possible. It both pissed Grimmjow off that he did that, and made his heart twist in gratitude. Kurosaki would never do that, not for anyone. No one but him. It did more than speak volumes, it screamed them.

God it was weird, to see Kurosaki, dark and menacing, surrounded by wildflowers, hair tangled in blades of grass, just inches from his leg. "I talked with Zangetsu…" About what, Grimmjow might not ever know, but the hybrid said it with such certainty, it had to be important. "I'm not running from you again."

Grimmjow reached for a horn, tightening his grip until his palm was slick with blood. Kurosaki watched him, and Grimmjow watched the trail of red, slip down the curve of a horn to stain yellow and white flowers. He forced Kurosaki's head back, baring his throat. He leaned in over him, but hesitated, asking. "So I could kiss you again?"

"Do you want to?"

"Do I want to?" Grimmjow let out a laugh that sounded too exhausted to be amused. "Kurosaki."

Closing that gap between them, Grimmjow kissed him upside down, awkward and all teeth, but Kurosaki was there, and he didn't run. He was there and he trusted him.

Grimmjow had never owned something so important, and so precious. He found Kurosaki's hand in his hair, pulling him back. "I never told you...I love you."

Grimmjow was grateful Rukia was distracted, and for the small wall of flowers and grass. He cried, curling over Kurosaki, who thankfully said nothing. Kurosaki ran his fingers around the nape of his neck, frighteningly gentle. He loved him.

Three stupid words, and they had the power to reduce him to tears.

No, not the words. Kurosaki.

He held far too much power, all he could do was trust it wouldn't betray him, but it was just as frightening as it was exhilarating.

- xxx -