Angry at the World

It was early morning, probably a little before dawn, Grimmjow thought. The light had a cold, dim quality that seemed to be barely light at all. Just bright enough to keep a person from easily falling back asleep, and too dark to be called day. The house was filled with a soft kind of quiet that held a promise of noise soon enough.

He had had good fucks before. Good fights, fights he daydreamed about doing again. Blood, victory, battle, it was what truly brought him joy. Swinging a sword was like meditation; chaos was his inner peace. But none of it compared to having the warm body of Kurosaki Ichigo sleeping draped across his chest.

Grimmjow lay on his back with one arm underneath Ichigo and reaching around possessively to his upper back, and the other rested barely on his side. Kurosaki’s vibrant orange head rested just below his collarbone and one arm lay across his chest. He was fuckin’ beautiful. The Espada curled his free hand and ever so softly brushed his fingers against the boy’s lips, the skin of his cheek. Tension didn’t normally lift from the boy’s face in sleep, but at the moment no expression marred his features. He was spent, tired, peaceful. Grimmjow desired him so much, he wanted him now, but he wouldn’t wake him from this fragile calm. Grimmjow closed his eyes. He didn’t have to worry about losing him now anyway. The redhead was his. He’d kill anyone who touched him. The only one who’d ever made him dream, made him feel guilt. The only person he’d ever apologized to.

Did Aizen know that his Arrancar could feel this way? It didn’t really matter. He ran his fingers through those short orange strands. Grimmjow would share the burden that the boy’s friends couldn’t, because he guarded its very existence so that they would never feel the pain of empathy. No one else would ever have the privilege of the genuine, unguarded Ichigo. That would be his prize alone. Foolish, impetuous, stupid, dangerous, fierce, wild, strong, soft, beautiful, perfect. His Ichigo. Without him, he would go mad. With him, maybe he could temper the madness, and use it for him. For his Strawberry.

The Arrancar heard a soft creak in the room and cracked open one eye. Dammit. It was Ichigo’s sister, the happy little one with the light hair. The one that was way, way too fucking inquisitive it seemed. She had the good graces to stop and look embarrassed, and touched her hair in nervousness.

“Uh, uhm…Good morning…” She said with a weak smile. Grimmjow tightened his arms around Ichigo.

“Whaddya want?” He asked, still only looking at her with one eye.

“I…I wanted to make sure Ichi-nii was okay. Sometimes he leaves at night and doesn’t come back, and last night I heard noises…” She said sadly. Of course she heard goddamn noises, he thought and closed his eyes. Well, if Ichigo wasn’t told, he wouldn’t lose his shit. As long as no one else said anything. Grimmjow opened his eyes to look at Yuzu again.

“He’s fine, Yuzu-chan,” he replied. I don’t think I’ve used –chan in awhile…’Cept when makin’ fun of that Shinigami chick. She stepped closer to them.

“Is he gonna go to school today?” She asked. This kid was way too sweet for her own damn good. Did she know what happened or not?

“No. We should let him sleep,” he said with a meaningful look, and she nodded.

“…Grimmjow-san, will you take care of Ichi-nii?” She asked and looked closely at her brother’s face. Grimmjow decided that despite her apparent innocence, she probably knew. …I don’t think she means for today. I think she means it the same way I do. When the fuck did little girls get so smart?

“…Yeah. Forever,” the Espada said. It was clear he was not joking, and Yuzu’s eyes seemed to moisten.

“…Thank you,” she said softly. She kissed two of her fingers and pressed them carefully against Ichigo’s cheek. “Bye Ichi-nii, Onii-chan,” she said, and quickly left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Onii-chan? I guess I like the sound of that. Time passed, and the body in his arms sighed softly and shifted.

“You awake, Ichi?” He asked quietly, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. Ichigo curled up closer.

“Your chest was rumblin’,” the redhead murmured sleepily. If men can be cute, Christ…

“I’ll cut it out,” Grimmjow replied, and traced his hand lightly over Ichigo’s back, studying the only one that could calm the roar of the beast in his chest.

“Good…” he said. There was the whispery movement of sheets, and Ichigo’s face moved close to Grimmjow’s. He paused hesitantly before he took the final step, and leaned down to kiss the Espada warmly. After, those deep brandy-brown eyes opened blearily and looked down at him. “…Are you going to leave now?” he was soft-spoken because it was morning, but his voice was still hard. It was a vulnerable question that he had cloaked in strength. The Shinigami bastard was still unsure of him.

“Stupid,” Grimmjow replied flatly. Ichigo’s eyebrows snapped together.

“It isn’t stupid. You’re…”

“You’re fuckin’ stupid,” the blue-haired man repeated, and rolled with Ichigo so that he was on top, pinning Ichigo beneath him.

“Mmf, Grimmjow!” Ichigo protested.

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” Grimmjow said, ignoring him and closing his eyes.

“But--”

“Stupid,” he whispered into Ichigo’s ear. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re mine,” he said. After a pause, the body below him finally relaxed.

“…Fine,” the redhead finally replied. Grimmjow kissed his neck sweetly and ignored the urge to do more. Even after last night, his hair didn’t smell like sweat; it smelled of something fresh like mint and nutmeg. Maybe it was just his head glorifying everything about the Shinigami, but he couldn’t care less. He inhaled the scent again with pleasure. “I…” Ichigo’s hands rested over Grimmjow’s with a barely noticeable tremble. “I… I don’t want to just…have sex,” he mumbled, a weak attempt to sound firm. Silly kid.

“If I only wanted t’fuck, I’d’a woken you up a different way, Ichigo,” Grimmjow said dryly. He couldn’t see the flush that stained Ichigo’s face, but he guessed it was there. “I get it. You humans want nice, monogamous deep relationships’n shit. I’ll do it. Now will you shut up and go back to sleep? The sun isn’t even fuckin’ up,” he complained. The commitment wasn’t quite as awful to him as he had painted it to be; he wouldn’t stray from the object of his desire, but the Espada still had an image to maintain. Ichigo elbowed him hard before shifting into a more comfortable position.

“Sweet dreams asshole.”

“Bitch. …I guess I deserved that,” Grimmjow muttered, rubbing the spot where he had been hit. He sighed, and as the sun slowly rose, the entangled Shinigami and Arrancar fell back asleep.

~

“Oh god,” Ichigo said with a stretch, slowly getting out of bed. “Look at the time. It’s a friggin’ miracle no one came in here to ask where the hell I was…” He stood up, yawned, and scratched his head. Grimmjow was pulling on his pants and trying to think of the best way to look oblivious and innocent, since he knew the very reason no one had showed. He went for disinterested and stared at the ceiling. “Hey,” Ichigo said to Grimmjow sharply. “…don’t tell anyone about this. They wouldn’t understand,” he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

“What am I, a fuckbuddy or a boyfriend?” Grimmjow sat up and said angrily.

“You’re on the waiting list,” Ichigo replied and looked away. The Espada just wouldn’t understand; he didn’t know him well enough to share his heart and soul, even if he liked him, even if he wanted him.

“Tch… Fuckin’ teenage bullshit. Ask yourself why it is you’re ashamed, why don’t ya?” The Arrancar said harshly. Ichigo felt unexpectedly empty, as if he’d been dealt a blow just beneath his ribs. He still couldn’t face Grimmjow. He did however, like him enough to accept and tell him the truth. He deserved to know it.

“…Because I don’t love you,” Ichigo said quietly, and leaned against the wall with both hands. “Because then they’ll know I forgave you for what you did.” There it was, cold silence. A painful, searing blade that was ready at any moment to cut the tenuous bond between them.

Grimmjow pressed against his back and a strong hand spread across his chest.

“People fuck all the time. That’s all it’ll be. It’s no big deal,” the Espada said darkly and put his arms around him. “There won’t be any messy connections once the fightin’ starts. We’ll fight same as always,” he finished softly. Ignore how he felt? After everything Grimmjow had said? Impossible.

“…Don’t mock me!” The Shinigami turned around and growled. His heart hurt and burned with fury at the same time.

“Isn’t it that or nothing? What do you think Soul Society and Aizen will do?”Grimmjow sneered.

“They haven’t done anything yet! And everything you said to me, how much did you mean, you son of a bitch?”

Ichigo’s hands balled into fists. He would hate him. If what the Arrancar had told him was a lie, he wouldn’t be able to stand the monster. “A couple lies to get me sentimental? Think you can fuck with me!? It ain’t funny!”

“I ain’t a liar! I mean what I say, Kurosaki,” he growled. “If you don’t want your friends to know how you feel about the bastard who raped ya, if ya don’t want to be killed for bein’ a traitor, what do you think we can do?!”
“Don’t TALK about that!” Ichigo cried, and punched him. Grimmjow looked at him, furious, before he punched him back. The redhead smacked against the wall and glared. Fuck. Fucking Arrancar. Why did he ever think he could be different? Grimmjow’s hand twitched.

“…I didn’t mean to,” he looked away and said so quiet he could barely be heard. Vestiges of guilt, perhaps.

“…I know you can’t help wantin’ to fight,” Ichigo said, but his fists were clamped tightly and his glare was sharp. “You can’t just make bloodlust disappear.”

“The fuck is that supposed t’mean!? You knew what I was before y’climbed into bed! Are you upset because I’m violent?” Grimmjow asked angrily. “We fight! That’s all we fuckin’ do! I'm an Arrancar, you're a Shinigami, we KILL THINGS!”

“I don’t know what I mean! But I know what you are, dammit!”

“Then do you know what the fuck you are?!” The Arrancar asked, sneering. It was a more terrible question than he realized. Ichigo gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the horrible, painful buzzing that entered his mind. It wasn’t just the inner Hollow. Ichigo himself held something inside him; it was what the Hollow lived on. Grimmjow regarded him. “Seems like you do. Seems like you know what’s inside you just as well as I do!”

“…Pain can be good, Ichigo. What I did made y’feel better in the end. I know it did,” Grimmjow told him. Ichigo felt his blood run cold. It was a horrific thing to say. It hurt so badly; it had taken so long to recover.

“You…you fucking bastard!” Ichigo snarled and punched him again; Grimmjow didn’t sit there and take it this time. He caught the punch and aimed a kick at the redhead’s side.

“You know how you felt after!” The Arrancar snarled back. Ichigo stumbled when the kick connected. He quickly knelt and swung his leg at Grimmjow’s, tripping him. The Espada caught himself with one hand and landed harshly on his knees. He reached to grab the Shinigami by the hair, making him cry out, and dragged him closer. The fight was so instinctual that it hardly interrupted their conversation.

“I can be your strength and pain,” he said forcefully, and released his hair to grab the Shinigami’s shoulders. His nails dug in and drew blood. “I have to be. I want to hurt ya and save ya. Y’can’t see…but their way… coddlin’ ya, or ignorin’ ya… It’ll destroy you. I’ll make you better, in spite of yourself… The pain makes you live,” he said it all fervently, blue eyes flashing with passion. Here was the terrifying Sexta Espada Ichigo remembered. Terrifying, but desire still burned inside him anyway. Why? … Part of Ichigo had always known that pain made him feel alive. “That’s what you make me feel!”

“You’re insane, Grimmjow,” the Shinigami replied, eyes blazing in warning. He gripped the Arrancar’s wrists and dug in his grip as well. Grimmjow was stoking the flames; instead of kindling, he was adding explosives. Does he feel this way when he changes? From wanting to protect me to wanting to hurt me, what’s the change that happens in him? His grip on himself slowly slipping away, watching. And then the primal, the visceral, the core. …Am I pulled to him because of this? Because I feel it, feel like I don’t care, like this destruction is worth throwing everything aside for, no matter what! And it can’t be! But it is! Ichigo didn’t know if he could stem the tide inside himself.

“That’s why I need you. Keep me alive.” Grimmjow released one of his hands and brought it to his mouth, delicately licking the strawberry’s blood from his nails. Ichigo shuddered. Something awful inside him was stirring, and he met Grimmjow’s gaze with strength.

~

“I’ll take you whether you want me to or not, Ichigo,” he stated. The redhead was right. He was losing his grip on sanity, but this darkness felt so wonderful. Redolent desire and pools of power were within this other side of himself, and he felt the darkness in Kurosaki respond to meet him. He didn’t want to. The bitch fought it, he could tell. He’d been wrapped so well with Soul Society’s rules. But his hidden nature would show; and the real Ichigo couldn’t hide from their melded fate for long. It would be so fucking good. Grimmjow would show him unbridled fire. He wanted the sanity only Ichigo seemed to bring him.

But no one could stop the earth from shaking when it needed to.

“Can you handle it, Kurosaki?” He shoved the Shinigami against the wall and kissed him hard. He knew Ichigo was as dirty and dark as he was, deep down, he just had to rip it out of him.

Ichigo tried to pull away, but Grimmjow wouldn’t allow him. He could sense the feeling he wanted in Kurosaki, just beneath his skin. How could he force it out? The blue-haired man grinned and allowed his reiatsu to burst out and surround the redhead, pressing down without mercy. The weak barrier between what Ichigo did and what Ichigo wanted shattered, and his energy thrust outward into Grimmjow’s, spiking, melding, twisting.

Grimmjow held his strawberry’s face in his hands, crushing his mouth with kisses. Their tongues battled for control; this was more like it. No abject submission, but a fight for dominance. Ichigo’s hands reached up into his teal hair and gripped tightly. The Espada tore himself away from Ichigo’s mouth and licked a delicate trail down his neck into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, and began to suck harshly. The boy gasped and a leg reached around the Arrancar’s and he arched against his body.

Slowly one of Grimmjow’s hands slid down to his chest and began to palm one of his nipples. Unused to the touch, Kurosaki shoved his hand away before moving back to his hair. Even when he was about to be fucked, the Shinigami could be such a stupid prude. Undeterred, Grimmjow began to roll the nub in between two fingers and bit down hard on Ichigo’s neck. Marking him, making him his. The boy hissed in pain and gripped blue strands of hair even more tightly. His reishi fought harder against the Arrancar’s, struggling to throw him off and failing. The red that flowed into his mouth was metallic, warm, good, and he sucked hard at the wound. He left one hand on Ichigo’s chest, teasing, while the other traveled down his back, stopping at his towel. He gripped it, ready to rip it away when one of Kurosaki’s hands grabbed his wrist. Grimmjow growled at the interruption.

“Sh…Shower,” Ichigo gasped. It sounded weak, but Grimmjow knew better. The silver light was back in his eyes. The instinct, the light that appeared whenever the redhead was truly taking something seriously. The Espada grinned wickedly.

Ichigo had barely shut the door with care before Grimmjow shoved him against the wall again and kissed him. One of the Shinigami’s hands raked down his chest, the other scrabbled against tile until it reached the water knob and turned it. Sometimes the punk could have good ideas after all. Without any hesitation, Grimmjow grabbed the towel around Ichigo’s waist and shoved him into the shower. The teen looked at him with a deadly gaze while he took off his pants, and then joined him. Their reiatsu was crushing now; it didn’t reach out gently to explore their skin, it crashed and formed new energy and fought for control.

This time Ichigo made the advance and pressed Grimmjow against the shower wall, biting his lip and digging his nails into his back under the hot stream of water. It was good to know that he’d finally caved into a rough fuck, Grimmjow noted with satisfaction, but if Ichigo thought he was going to be on top, he was mistaken.
The Espada’s hands slid devilishly down Ichigo’s sides, caressing smoothly down his back until they reached his ass. Then he harshly grabbed a hold of him, picked him up and slammed him against the tile.

“Bastard,” Ichigo grunted with a wince, and barely contained a cry of pleasure when Grimmjow grabbed his member and started to jerk him.

“Bitches don’t talk, Kurosaki,” the Espada said mockingly, and thrust against him.

“Nnn, goddamn you!” he panted and latched onto his shoulders. Grimmjow let go of his dick and, one hand still holding him up, moved his hand towards the crevice of his ass. He began making hickeys on Ichigo’s neck before he shoved one finger in harshly. “Agh! Will you fucking—warn me?” His volume dropped suddenly mid-hiss, and he reached for the shower radio and turned it on loud. His bitching was annoying in a way, but it was also what he wanted. Loud, painful sex.

“Where would the fun in that be?” Grimmjow asked with a grin, and began pressing with his finger. “I don’t get how you’re so goddamn tight, after I just fucked ya,” he growled. “There’s no difference at all!” He jabbed it in and out roughly.

“Shut up! Would it kill you to be careful?! That hu—rts!” He cried out as Grimmjow roughly stabbed in another finger.

“Good,” the Arrancar muttered. He finger fucked him now, hardly caring for stretching the ring of muscle. “ This ain’t about bein’ careful,” he said roughly. Ichigo didn’t reply this time, just panting and moving with the rhythm of his minute thrusts. Quietly he whispered, “Thought you weren’t into this shit Kurosaki? My fingers up your ass?” He pressed in hard with both fingers, searching, until he hit the spot he wanted and Ichigo writhed and made a choking sound. “Cause I could be mistaken, but I think these fingers up your ass are about to make you cum.” He wiggled both fingers and pressed in until he hit his prostate again. Ichigo restrained his moan, but it was still audible. “You want another finger bitch?”

“N…no,” the redhead said behind gritted teeth.

“Really? Cause it sounds like you do,” Grimmjow said with a grin; another finger was poised at his entrance. This was good. Humiliating him was almost as good as a blowjob.

“Don’t you dare, you bastard!” Ichigo growled, and bit down hard and the Espada’s shoulder. Grimmjow grunted and angrily shoved in his third finger. Ichigo cried out, but it was muffled by the Arrancar’s skin. Blood began to bead around his teeth. What a hot little bitch he was, Grimmjow thought. Panting in heat while he rode his fingers, flushing in embarrassment and anger, and sexy, wet, rust-colored hair. To be responsible for that, he was the luckiest fucking man in the world. The teen gave soft little grunts of pain with every thrust of Grimmjow’s fingers, and kept his teeth deep in the blue-haired man’s shoulder.

He wasn’t gentle. His fingernails scraped Kurosaki inside, and his fingers were long and forceful. Grimmjow could have easily touched his prostate, but he denied Ichigo the pleasure; it got him off. Occasionally he would barely brush against it and give him a hint of how he could feel, and it would make the Shinigami growl in anger. Grimmjow knew it was against Kurosaki’s instincts to even be allowing this to happen, and the further he pushed his strawberry’s boundaries the better he felt. He would make him deal with his painful, thrusting fingers as punishment.

Eventually Grimmjow withdrew his fingers and Ichigo groaned in relief, releasing his mouth’s bloody hold. The Arrancar covered Ichigo’s mouth with a kiss, far softer than anything they had done so far; a vague apology for the fingers’ assault. Grimmjow’s tongue reached in softly to lick the blood from his lips, his teeth, to share in the metallic taste. Divine. Then he pulled away. Ichigo’s eyes were lidded with lust, but still angry, still searching for control. Not good enough. How could he make him angrier? Show him who was really in control? Grimmjow adopted his distant, calm expression to look down upon the teen, and he bridled. Just the reaction he wanted. The Espada put two fingers upon the strawberry’s lips.

“Suck,” he commanded. Before Ichigo could refuse him, he grabbed his dick and started stroking it. When Ichigo gasped, Grimmjow slid his fingers in around his tongue. “You’d better not bite,” he whispered, but for once, the Arrancar gave him an incentive. His touch was soft and playful; he teased and pressed the slit at the head of Ichigo’s dick, and pulled back the foreskin and rubbed. He could see the fiery redhead’s pride battle his pleasure and lose as that hot mouth began to suck and beg at his fingers, tongue languorously sliding against and around them.

“I’ll…Get you back for this Grimmjow,” Ichigo said around his fingers, but he didn’t stop. It was good that he still had his pride in there. Grimmjow didn’t want it destroyed. He loved the fight.

“I bet you will,” Grimmjow purred. He took his hand away from Ichigo’s prick and leaned down to his chest to begin suckling at his nipple. The redhead emitted something of a whimper and his hand tangled amongst blue once more. The Espada suddenly decided he was sick of waiting, and once again lifted up Ichigo’s legs and pressed him against the tile.

“Shit,” Ichigo murmured, just before Grimmjow kissed him harshly, positioned himself and thrust inside. He was so warm and clinging. Ichigo broke away from the kiss as he gasped in pain, and one of his hands raked his fingernails down the Arrancar’s back, leaving bloody trails. Stupid, stupid bitch. He knows what hurts right. He gave a small bark of laughter.

Grimmjow didn’t wait and be gentle this time. There was no soft hip rolling or pressing; this was about him, not being nice to the little bitch. He fucked him viciously, just the way he wanted to. Grimmjow knew it must hurt, with no lube but the water from his fingers and no time to adjust, but from the way their reiatsu melded it was obvious neither partner cared.

Ichigo made an occasional noise of pain and his face was a mask of focus instead of pleasure, but Grimmjow knew he was enjoying it. His eyes challenged him; he could tell through that feeling he’d pulled from the Shinigami. The harder he thrusted, the more he lost himself. Soon enough Ichigo had wrapped his legs tightly around Grimmjow’s torso, pulling him in deeper, harder with every thrust. He wouldn’t scream or moan, that wasn’t his style. But every once in awhile, he gave up small exclamations of pure joy that made Grimmjow fuck him ever harder.

The bathroom began to fog and their bodies became slick with sweat and moisture. Ichigo seemed to study him for a moment, and then reached out almost lovingly to brush Grimmjow’s wet blue hair away from his eyes and forehead. He kept his hand entangled in the strands, and even when hit by sparks of pleasure he kept looking him in the eye. God, he was so fucking beautiful. Who else would be able to reclaim any power after all of this? Only Ichigo.

“Shit…shit…” Grimmjow muttered angrily. He began thrusting more slowly, harder, more erratically. He didn’t want to come yet. This was too goddamn good.

“Help me out,” Ichigo said hoarsely, and without a word, the Espada gripped his member like a vice. Now every time he pushed back against Grimmjow he pushed into the tunnel of his hand, slick and wet from the shower. His face was heavenly, and his gaze finally broken as his head leaned back against the wall, mouth open as if waiting to speak. And then he came, his voice strong and grip around Grimmjow tight. Somehow he kept going through the Strawberry’s climax, though not long. A few more powerful thrusts into his limp body and the Arrancar came with a feral grunt, spilling his release inside his boy. Ichigo made a soft, feminine exclamation as he filled him. It made him shudder at how aroused it made him feel, even when he was so tired.

Grimmjow, drained, slowly lowered Ichigo and leaned heavily against the wall. Grimmjow saw the boy’s tired, lidded eyes and shifted to lean against his shoulder. He reached to turn the water slightly cooler, and then pulled Ichigo to him and slid down against the tiles until they hit the ground, right under the stream of water. There, he cupped Ichigo’s cheeks and he stared at the deep brown eyes of the bastard he could not stop thinking about.

“…Your hair is sexy wet,” Ichigo whispered huskily. Grimmjow didn’t respond and leaned forward to kiss him deeply. Ichigo moved to straddle him and the Espada let his hands drop. Ichigo copied him and cupped Grimmjow’s cheeks to kiss him, subtly and softly asserting dominance. Grimm let him; these kinder, softer kisses were something different, and this time he let go of control and enjoyed himself. He would let Ichigo forget for a moment how afraid he was of his feelings and just act on them. It was the least, the very least that he could do.





~AN~

Whew, well... I wasn't planning on another sex scene so soon! It just sort of wrote itself. I originally wrote the chapter with waaaay too much fluff. Then I was all, wtf, that isn't right, and rewrote it. Grimmjow got a little mad at not being acknowledge and then he got violent, and then... Voila.