Angry at the World

Ichigo was being a pain in the ass, Grimmjow thought grumpily. …Okay, no, that wasn’t entirely fair. After they had actually showered, the Shinigami had needed Grimmjow’s help to walk. The temperamental teen had become a little angrier at each painful, aided step, and once he discovered that he needed at least two pillows to sit down comfortably, his glare became a palpable, smoldering thing. Grimmjow had wisely found an excuse to leave the room.

So, if he thought about it, he was the pain in Ichigo’s ass, but it didn’t stop the Espada from being sore about the separation. Ichigo should have expected it! Who doesn’t expect to have a tough time walking after their first time? And the second time, when it’s a little rougher? So what if Grimmjow hadn’t lubed him up? Blood and water had done the trick eventually. Ichigo probably wouldn’t even like lubed sex, and he would get all squeamish about it being wet and gross or whatever. Besides, the bite mark on Grimmjow’s shoulder kept bleeding, and he wasn’t being pissy about it.

Maybe, maybe, he should have been gentler. But Ichigo had been begging for it by the end anyway.

The house was surprisingly empty, with no obnoxious shouting or giggles or angry door slamming. Grimmjow sat at the kitchen table, sulking in his own way. The blue-haired man wore his default angry expression, and his lounging body language suggested nothing was bothering him at all. Which meant that everything was bothering him. Stupid Ichigo.

How often did normal humans bang? The stupid Strawberry was prudish and shy, which he could deal with. It was hot in that despoiling, deflowering virgin way, the way that every touch from the redhead was tentative and awakening—That was enough of thinking about that. He could go without sex, but how long did he have to? Another day, another week? If it was a month, he and Ichigo would have to talk. Grimmjow was becoming more considerate, but that was asking way too fucking much.

Besides, he already had too much on his plate. Ichigo still had to be convinced he liked Grimmjow enough to express it when he wasn’t in the throes of lust or in his warm afterglow. And god do I love the look on his face after. He could ask for anything and I think I’d say yes. …That’s way too fuckin’ dangerous. The redhead also needed to figure out that their bickering was just another point of connection. It could be violent and enjoyable. And what if he became this irritable every time? Did he want lovey dovey sex? Because that shit would be intolerable. Grimmjow had seen lovey dovey sex on the television and it wasn’t something he wanted to take part in.

But that still was outside the point. How often do humans have sex? Ichigo’s old man had been reading advice columns from the paper aloud the other day. Grimmjow thought he remembered the weirdo mentioning something about sex in between his snorts of laughter. It couldn’t hurt to check. The Espada rummaged through the bag full of old newspapers until he found a page full of likely looking advice columns, and sat down to read.

“My future sister-in-law won’t stop talkin’ smack about me…” Nope. “Our friends gifted us with some nice wine, and when we drank it without them, they got angry…” Not even close. “My husband started a feud with the neighbors when he wanted to add more salt to his meal”. What the fuck is this shit? These people are retarded.

“My wife wants to try goin’ to a Swinger’s party, but I just don’t feel comfortable, what do I tell her”. ...No. Sounded okay at first, but if Ichigo ever slept with someone else I’d kill ‘im, he thought moodily. So I guess that means I don’t get to either. Not that anyone else would really be worth it, not without those eyes and crazy hair, the blushes, and those girly little gasps he makes and hopes I don’t hear-- …

…Anyway. “How do I politely refuse… …Invitations, gifts, favors…” These filthy maggots need to grow some balls. Now here, this shit is more like it. “I like to do “kinky” things in bed but my boyfriend is grossed out. How do I get him to see that this is just sexual progression and it can be enjoyable for both of us? …Gradual…respect boundaries? Stop if he says no?” What kind of fuckin’ advice is this?!

He slammed the paper he was reading on the table. It obviously didn’t hold any answers. If he’d stopped every time Kurosaki had asked him to, they never would have fucked. …Well, obviously the first time he... But the second and third time “no” was obviously more negotiable. …Well, shit, thinking it out like that made him sound awful, but… …goddamn it. He would have to figure out his balance with Ichigo by trial and error, which was, he guessed, what everyone else did anyway.

The problem was that both of them were always terribly, terribly out of balance and that was half the fucking reason Grimmjow wanted the redhead so much.

Why couldn’t he get him off his mind?! Sure, thinking about fucking him was a normal past time. And being prepared to kill any Arrancar who went near his Strawberry, or anyone who dared to flirt with him was normal too. But something had changed, something was sticking. Grimmjow growled to himself. Surely he had better things he could be doing.

…There was one productive thing he could be doing, he remembered belatedly as he stood up and stretched. Something he was fairly certain would get the stupid Shinigami to tolerate him again. He would go out and buy some lube.

~

When Grimmjow stalked back into Ichigo’s room, the redhead was leaning back in his chair, ear buds in and eyes closed. The Espada considered letting the boy have his peace, but he was just too proud of his purchase to leave him alone. So he walked over to the Shinigami and yanked on the ear bud cords, making them pop out. Ichigo opened his eyes and gave the grinning Arrancar an annoyed but inquisitive look. Why did he look so pleased with himself?

“I got ya a present,” Grimmjow said devilishly, and held up a plastic bag. Ichigo’s brow furrowed.

“A…present?” He asked in confusion, and let his chair rest back on the floor. The Arrancar didn’t really seem like the type to be considerate or spontaneously generous, so he had snagged his curiosity.

“Mhm,” Grimmjow replied smugly, and took a box out of the bag. He began to read the text on the side of the box. “Vanilla and spice scented oil warms gently on contact. Can be used for massage oil or sexual lubricant. Enjoy a warm, sensual and relaxing evening with our patented formula.”

“…Tch,” Ichigo shook his head and stood up, shoved Grimmjow’s forehead and walked stiffly to his bed. It figured the bastard couldn’t expand his horizons beyond sex-focused gifts.

“Hey, what’re you pissed off about?” Grimmjow growled and grabbed the back of Ichigo’s shirt. This was getting irritating.

“Can’t you think of anything else?” The redhead said caustically. Grimmjow snorted.

“There you go, assumin’ things,” the Espada said boastfully, and then began tugging up Ichigo’s shirt.

“Oh, hell no, NO! I am not having sex with you just because you bought lube you horny bastard!” He replied, pissed off and struggling to keep his shirt on.

“You’re the one with a one-track mind!” Grimmjow growled and managed to yank the top over his head. Ichigo glared at him, but was pulled to his bed before he could walk away. “Give me two seconds asshole, and I’ll prove it to ya,” the Espada said roughly and sat behind the Strawberry.

“…Fine, but I don’t trust you,” Ichigo conceded.

“Oh really? Why don’t you say something you haven’t told me forty-two times before Kurosaki?” He asked sarcastically.

“But I’m serious, I don’t want to sleep with you,” he argued with a faint blush. “ I didn’t want to this morning and now I can barely walk,” he muttered. He heard something pop open behind him, and Grimmjow stayed silent. “What are you doing?” He asked and craned his head around to look.

“Head forward!” Grimmjow snapped, and Ichigo whipped his head forward and muttered. “Quit yer bitchin’ Ichigo.” He commanded. He grabbed Ichigo’s shoulders and put a knee to his spine, and pulled to straighten his back.

“Agh! What--” Grimmjow smacked him across the back of his head. “Ow!”

“No talking!”The Espada said sharply. This was getting ridiculous, Ichigo thought crossly. Then Grimmjow’s hands, wet and smooth touched his shoulders. The Shinigami started at his touch, but didn’t pull away despite his instinct. Grimmjow’s hands began to rub his shoulders, fingers pressing smoothly and truthfully just a little too hard to be relaxing. But that was Grimmjow, wasn’t it? Rough even when he was trying not to be. And his effort had already stunned the strawberry; was he really getting a massage?

Grimmjow’s fingers probed in circles and spread the massage oil across his back. Ichigo felt the oil begin to tingle and warm, and combined with the unsure massage, the strawberry was feeling decidedly odd. Grimmjow was intent on his action, but Ichigo knew he had probably never done anything like this before. It felt as surreal as… it was hardly worth making surrealist comparisons, Ichigo realized with resignation. His whole life was already the embodiment of the bizarre.

Then the Arrancar’s hands discovered a muscle knot, and began to attack it like an enemy. Ichigo wanted to tell him that a massage was not like a mission, but it hurt, and he winced as strong fingers circled and pressed without regard to pain or mercy. Then the knot released, and the Shinigami sighed softly in relief, his whole body relaxing. It wasn’t long before Grimmjow found another knot, though, and pressed it just as harshly. It was a muscle-tightening sting every time he found one, followed by sweet relief from tension Ichigo didn’t even know he’d had. His lower back especially was a mess, and the warming oil on Grimmjow’s relentless fingers felt like a godsend.

Long, articulate fingers that he could see clearly in his mind’s eye. Their touch gentled; Grimmjow seemed to learn that the task didn’t require bruising strength. Every once in awhile his hands would stay in contact longer; not so much massaging as feeling. They would work their way up to Ichigo’s neck, then into his hair. It felt sinfully good. The scent of the oil played across his nose carefully, never too overbearing and just enough to be both relaxing and enticing. He was probably reading too much into it, Ichigo knew, but it was peculiar how much the scent was like this moment; soft and an undertone of something sharper, more interesting. He sighed deeply. It was really time to clear his head of stupid things like that. It was Yuzu’s fault, always gushing about her Shoujo mangas at the dinner table.

In time Grimmjow smoothed the oil down Ichigo’s arms, rubbing the more mobile muscles with care. But the redhead wasn’t paying attention much now—he felt so drained and limp that he leaned back against the Arrancar for support. Ichigo looked up at him through lidded eyes. Sex, morbid curiosity, friends…with benefits? Kindred spirits…? Who and what was Grimmjow?

“…I don’t get you,” Ichigo told him. When the Espada’s violent side emerged, other things fell by the wayside. If what he wanted changed, would the impulsive side still come out? What would he judge as… important enough to leave alone? It was too easy to focus on his thoughts when there no other concerns.

“I don’t get me or you, so I think I win,” Grimmjow replied , still smug, and began to massage the redhead’s upper arms.

“I wasn’t really trying to start a contest,” Ichigo said flatly. Is that a contest in his head? He probably doesn’t even decide it, not consciously. Doesn’t think things through like that. Then again, neither do I.

“Shit, isn’t it always one anyway?” Grimmjow asked. The strawberry held back his quick retort and thought about it.

“Whether I want it to be or not. With almost frickin’ everybody,” he said, and couldn’t hold back a hint of bitterness. Grimmjow’s hands slid back down Ichigo’s arm to massage his hand.

“Not always a contest. Sometimes they just want t’push ya. Shouldn’t make y’less pissed off at ‘em…or me,” the Arrancar added with a dark grin. “But maybe that way it’d be easier to ignore bitches. An’ just cause they’re your friends don’t mean they’re not whiny bitches,” he finished matter-of-factly. Ichigo twisted his mouth; he couldn’t really argue that his friends sometimes wore on him. Grimmjow however, was hardly any better about it. Ichigo watched with relaxed detachment as fingers massaged his hand. It seemed to sap the energy right out of him in far too enjoyable of a way.

Without thinking, Ichigo’s hand curled around Grimmjow’s and held it. It was smooth, and felt…nice. A simple comfort settled in his heart. But Grimmjow froze. For a second, Ichigo wasn’t sure why. He felt relaxed and content, and their hands … their hands together. They jolted apart as if ice water had been poured on them. “…Well, I’m done doin’ you a favor. I’m gonna go wash this shit off my hands,” Grimmjow said stoically, and didn’t look at Ichigo as he left. Shit. Ichigo’s back felt cold and clammy now, instead of warm. He grabbed his towel to wipe off most of the oil before putting back on his shirt.

A gesture like that with Grimmjow was sickening. Ichigo felt… ashamed. He couldn’t keep acting as though it were okay to… to have sex with the man, much less even like him. And then to try and hold his hand? For fuck’s sake, what was wrong with him? The redhead’s own mind wracked at him. The wrongness in his gut wouldn’t go away, not after he sat down gingerly, not after Grimmjow returned and of all things, cracked open a book to read. Blue-haired bastard. Fucking gorgeous bastard, laying there, face so intensely focused without even realizing it, body stretched out.

Ichigo lay on his side, facing away from him. Bastard. Why was he the one who could open the floodgates? Why couldn’t it have been someone kind, gentle, sane? Within the depths of his mind, a voice darkly answered with what Ichigo knew was obvious. No one like that could do it. I would never respect them. They couldn’t start a disaster and halt it the same immediate, decisive way that Grimmjow does. Not that it was okay. It wasn’t. But that was the fucking way of it, wasn’t it? Ichigo could never treat someone gentle and soft as an equal. They would always be another person to be protected. That still doesn’t make it right, not at all. Grimmjow is wrong, wrong, wrong... Ichigo curled up more tightly on his bed.

…How far am I going to fall before I try to stop?

~

The tempered halls of Las Noches. Empty, cold light struck every room, crevice and niche, and if by some queer occurrence a crack appeared in its smooth construction, vacant light pervaded there as well. Beings tread softly within those hallowed halls, quieter still the closer they drew to Aizen Sousuke.

Aizen Sousuke’s mind was probably as perfect in its comprehension and understanding of existence as a single soul possibly could be. He knew his plans were not entirely perfect, not by any means, nor were their execution. But better than anyone else he knew where mistakes would probably be made, where his creations were likely to fail, and he was able to plan accordingly, able to capitalize. It was how he functioned.

Sousuke played games with lives while he waited for the awakening of the Hougyoku. Emotions, lower levels of thinking, tampering, dabbling, it gave him satisfied amusement to puppeteer those incapable of providing their own destiny. At any moment his cloying strings were reaching out to wind themselves tightly onto the souls of Shinigami, humans, and even his own Espada. Unaware those fools would wrap themselves deeper and tighter until his machinations bit into their flesh, and some would not realize it even as their bodies split into gory pieces.

Others, his favorites, would turn to look behind them as they felt his guiding touch. Suspicious, but still inactive. Unknowing they would affectionately twine their finger around his plans and stitch it into their hearts. It would sting, and their paranoia would bridle. But still they did not act, believing themselves their master. Then Aizen would tug lazily on those heartstrings and the obstinate would buckle, clutching at chests and throats, horrifyingly aware of the web they had been caught in and exactly when the weave had begun. And then they would take every step knowing what they must do, knowing there was no other way, knowing that it was exactly what Aizen Sousuke had known they would do all along.

Anguish. A soft sigh of a word that is a twist of the heart, a deep pulling, an unquenchable pain. Anguish was the pain of knowing there was nothing that could be done to prevent the horrors that sped at you like a demon, threatening you and everyone you love. Anguish. Close to despair, but anguish has not yet given up. The emotions are still raw and fresh and bleeding, and every action is a rub of sandpaper on those wounds. Like a rare, smooth drink he took it in slowly and with appreciation.

But today was not about planning for perfection or its absence, or for manipulating his toys. His Espada gathered, silent around the stiff white cocoon. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques was conspicuous in his absence, but Aizen ignored questioning glances. It was not as though the man was being secretive about what he was doing. He would not deal with the fool’s actions today; today was easy. Today another Arrancar would awaken, perhaps even a new Espada.

Wonderweiss’ awakening had been… disappointing to say the least. Perhaps it was a sign that Urahara Keisuke had managed to imbue the Hougyoku with some of his sense of humor, or maybe it was about time that an abnormality surfaced among the Arrancar. Either way, Aizen watched the unfolding scene with careful interest.

The cocoon had been radiating normal bursts of reiatsu, but Aizen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as the pulses began to fluctuate wildly. Another surprise where a surprise had no business being at all. The air began to push down oppressively, strands of power pressing curiously against those gathered. A few of the Espada shifted their weight as they noticed the change; the awakening Arrancar flitted from the power of a typical Fraccione to a powerful Espada. It should have been clear by this point what the Hollow would evolve into, though perhaps it had procured a strange ability that accounted for this behavior. Not that it reassured Aizen in the slightest.

A sudden crack and the casing shattered, leaving a nude young man on his hands and knees in its wake. His reiatsu dropped like a rock.

“Welcome, new Arrancar. What is your name?” Aizen asked smoothly. The newly formed Arrancar kept his gaze on the floor, his dull, shaggily cut brown hair obscuring his eyes. Rather unimpressive looking. The remnant of his Hollow mask was a spiraled, conch-like structure that circled around his left ear and down his neck.

“Nieronaut Asterlindt,” he responded. With a youth’s voice, Aizen noted. Younger, he thought, than any of the Espada, though he could not be certain until he lifted his face. As if he had heard the man’s thoughts, Nieronaut lifted his head to look at the master of Las Noches. A disturbing surge in power preceded this action, and Aizen closed his eyes thoughtfully before their gazes could meet.

“Szayel,” he said politely, though it was clearly a command. He heard the Espada step forward. “Please…take care of the new member of your brethren, and show him Las Noches.”

“…Yes, Aizen-sama,” the eighth Espada responded. He feigned annoyance at the task, but Aizen could easily tell the difference between the grating, pink-haired man’s real annoyance and concealed gratification. This was a case of the latter. He heard the Espada slowly filter out of the room, and Szayel help the young man to his feet oh so kindly.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Ulquiorra remained by his side. “I will report his progress,” Ulquiorra stated, and stared past the open door.

“None of the more obvious things,” Aizen said in a bored tone, and leaned back in his chair, or more properly, his throne. The quiet, green-eyed Espada nodded in recognition, and silently left the room.

Aizen did not appreciate the strange crackling in Nieronaut Asterlindt’s reiatsu, but he did not have time to waste on the mongrel. Szayel Apporo Grantz would discover something about the new Arrancar, or at the very least, he would enjoy himself.

Exactly as Aizen intended.

~

“Good morning Ichigo-kun!” Hirako said with a bright smile. Too bright, too early. Ichigo grunted in response. “It’s been so long since we’ve talked,” he added; a completely innocent lament to everyone who didn’t know what he was. What a stupid meddler. Ichigo glanced up at him.

“Now isn’t the time. Later,” he said, and looked back at the blackboard.

“Are you alright, Kurosaki-kun…? You seem kind of tired,” Inoue said shyly, looking determinedly at a strand of hair she was running her fingers through.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” mumbled to his desk.

“He’s just so mean, Orihime-chan!” Hirako said woefully, and draped himself across Inoue’s shoulders. Tatsuki smiled at him, and kept smiling as she took his hand and peeled his arm away from Orihime. He sighed in defeat and slumped into his desk.

“I swear to motherfuckin’ God ,if we learn anymore history about your shitty country Kurosaki, I am going to shit a brick,” Grimmjow said angrily while kicking Ichigo’s chair. Bastard needed a hobby or something to keep him busy.

“Not my problem,” the Shinigami turned around and replied acidly. “If you hate it, why don’t you go do something productive, like go look for Ishida, or even better, why don’t you go home,?”

“I just couldn’t, cause I fucking--” Grimmjow punctuated each word with a kick of Ichigo’s chair. “love,” kick, “Japan!” kick. He finally leaned back and stretched out in his chair, far too big a man for his desk. Petulant—little—immature--son of a—Ichigo’s thoughts devolved into curses and insults of the Espada. His fists clenched as he stood up. But instead of doing something violent, he grabbed Renji and sat him down in his desk.

“You can deal with Grimm today,” The Strawberry growled, and then sat down in Renji’s desk, closer to Rukia. Renji looked momentarily shocked, then disgruntled, and he shot a suspicious glance at Grimmjow.

“You owe me, Ichigo,” Renji said flatly. Grimmjow smirked. Ichigo felt a little badly about feeding Abarai to the wolves, but… He had been an asshole lately anyway. He and the stupid Arrancar could entertain each other for a day.

“Anything,” Ichigo replied, and then turned to face Rukia, who was looking at him with an unusual expression. “…What? What is it?” He asked crossly.

“Something happened that you’re not telling me,” she said and crossed her arms. Damn women’s intuition.

“I didn’t get the chance to see Urahara-san yesterday. He probably knows where Ishida went,” Ichigo said. Well, it wasn’t a whole lie. That was the most important thing with Rukia; an outright lie could be spotted from a mile away.

“What about Danna-san?” Rukia asked. He shook his head.

“I shoulda expected that Ishida’s girlfriend of all people would refuse help,” Ichigo said darkly, and Rukia’s eyes flashed.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

“I did! She insisted right back dammit, and it’s not like I can haul a girl kicking and screaming back to my house. It would have been difficult even under normal circumstances to convince my old man,” he said with a glare. “Just… don’t lecture me this time. Or wait until we go see Urahara-san to do it,” he asked wearily. Rukia smiled faintly.

“…I won’t lecture you. I guess you do good, stupid,” she said affectionately. That was probably the biggest admission of good work he’d gotten since he saved her life. It was nice to hear.

“Thanks,” Ichigo said sarcastically, and turned his attention to the front of the class as their teacher walked in.

“Good morning class!” She said brightly. The usual robotic “good morning” reply from the class followed. “Please take out your history text books and turn to pa--” She was interrupted by a frustrated roar from Grimmjow.

“For fuck’s sake lady, somethin’ else! Can’t you do anything else?! Anything?! You’re drivin’ me out of my fuckin’ mind! This is so…fucking…AGH!” He looked like he was about to tear out his hair. The teacher stared at him a slightly dropped jaw, as did most of the other students. Renji just appeared mildly amused.

“…I…ah…” The teacher seemed too surprised to gather any of her normal authority.

“No, no, I guess not. So I’ll just take care of it for you, goddammit! Fuck this shit!” Grimmjow stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets and stormed out.

“Christ, I’ll go get him,” Ichigo said somewhat apologetically to the poor woman, and ran after Grimmjow. Rukia stood up, slapping her hands on the desk.

“Ichigo! …uh, I have to go to the bathroom, teacher!” She lied quickly, and shimmied out.

“Oh hell no!” Renji said with a scowl, and didn’t even bother giving an excuse.

“W-wait, you can’t just—“

“Holidaaaaay~” Keigo yelled obnoxiously.

“Teacher, nurse!” Inoue said with a wave, before leaving. She was the last one to bother with an excuse, as the rest of the class paraded out after the cheering Keigo.

“You can’t leave! Class isn’t canceled! …Dammit!”

~

Ichigo walked purposefully down the hallway, a scowl on his face. He’d have to remind Grimmjow about that part where he was supposed to blend in. The moron was going to get expelled. As he walked past the boy’s bathroom, the door opened and he was yanked unceremoniously inside.

“Hey, what the f—“ It was Grimmjow. He closed the door behind Ichigo, slammed him against it and kissed him fiercely.

“I’ve been thinking about your body all day,” the Espada murmured after he pulled away, and his hands began to creep up underneath Ichigo’s shirt. The bastard must be out of his freaking mind.

“Grimmjow! Cut it out, we’re at school!” Ichigo pushed his hands away with a glare. Grimmjow glared back. “What is your problem anyway, freaking out like that?!”

“Can’t you just shut up for a second and let me do what I want?” Grimmjow growled at him, and leaned in to kiss him again.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” The redhead told him through gritted teeth as he dodged his mouth.

“God dammit Ichigo!” Grimmjow snarled and slammed his fist again the door near Ichigo’s head. His features flickered, and he looked to the side and grimaced. Some vague sort of guilt. “I just wanted a break from things. Nothin’ wrong with enjoyin’ ourselves, huh?” He still wouldn’t look at the Shinigami. There was something he wasn’t mentioning.

“In a bathroom!?” Ichigo cried, and then lowered his voice. “Even if I would do something with you again, it wouldn’t be in public, it wouldn’t be during school. Something is obviously biting you in the ass ‘cause you’re acting like an idiot, even for you,” he hissed. Grimmjow finally looked at him, eyebrows snapped together in anger and eyes aflame as usual.

“Newsflash Kurosaki, I don’t live here. Maybe I just want to get around to a few things before I have to haul my ass back to Hueco Mundo.” Ichigo’s face didn’t show it; he was careful to keep his jaw set and his glare steady. But something inside him froze in surprise.

“What, do you expect a goodbye-fuck?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery. “Cause you’re not gettin’ one.” If Grimmjow had to return, why hadn’t he done so already? His stomach churned uneasily. What would be the purpose of letting the Espada stay here…

“No, dammit, I’m just…sayin’ is all! An’ I wasn’t lyin’ Kurosaki,” he said more quietly, and pressed his hand against Ichigo’s chest. His teeth were still bared and his expression still angry, but there was that strange glint again. Appreciation, only… stronger than that, more heated. Red just barely tinged Ichigo’s cheeks.“You gotta know by now how fuckin’ hot you are,” Grimmjow said, voice dropping even lower. He leaned in and stopped, hesitating, before continuing to Ichigo’s neck and kissing softly. Ichigo couldn’t help but shiver. “Never know what you think ‘bout me, though,” he murmured and kissed his neck again wetly. Why could he switch so fucking fast? And why was this affecting him?

“I think you’re a bastard,” Ichigo spat out, angry at the feeling that was building in his abdomen. Grimmjow chuckled deeply, his chest rumbling.

“I mean about my looks, Ichi,” he said with a faint, wicked grin, and moved his kisses to Ichigo’s Adam’s apple. It made the teen’s gulp impossible to miss. …H…holy shit, I’m being seduced. …He can’t just do things like this to me! It’s not gonna happen! His thoughts were solid, yet it was hard to ignore the fizzling heat the Espada had already started. “I don’t know if you like what y’see, if y’don’t tell me,” Grimmjow finished, and one hand began stroking Ichigo’s side temptingly.

He moved from nuzzling the redhead’s neck to kissing him deeply with his tongue. Ichigo meant to pull away, he wanted to. But Grimmjow’s kiss was like a promise that felt right, and so gentle that from Grimmjow it couldn’t be a lie. Shit. After this, after this I’m gone, I’m not doing anything more with him. With an Arrancar. A rustle of clothing, and Grimmjow’s arms were closing tightly around him, and the only noises the echo of their breath and mouths in the tiled bathroom.

Then Ichigo’s hands balled into fists. He shoved Grimmjow away from him harshly and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, glaring hatefully.

“Don’t. Fucking. Toy with me, Grimmjow,” Ichigo told him furiously and left the bathroom with burning cheeks. Grimmjow was stunned; it was a blow to his pride, his desires, and it made him feel even more sullen. If pressed hard, he might’ve admitted to hurt feelings. Maybe. He shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled. Stupid fucking Ichigo couldn’t decide when he liked something.

He opened the door to leave, but paused. Slowly, ever so slowly, a vindictive grin began to pull at his lips, and he took a step and let the door swing shut behind him. Behind the door stood an uncomfortable and angry looking Renji. Bingo. Yahtzee. Scapegoat.

“So, how’s it goin’, Shinigami? Y’enjoyin’ bein’ a stalker?” Grimmjow asked him mockingly.

“You son of a bitch,” Renji growled at him. “How dare—“

“How dare I touch him like that?” The Espada shoved the tattooed Shinigami.

“When he says it’s enough, it’s enough,” he said levelly, controlling his temper.

“Let me tell you somethin’, Shinigami. If you can get ‘im in the sack, you can tell me how to touch ‘im, alright? Y’know… I bet I could get ‘im to finally suck my dick tonight.” Renji bridled. “ That get you jealous? Wanna watch, y’poor little baby? I don’t mind an audience,” Grimmjow said with a sick grin. Renji didn’t seem to know what emotion to feel. Outrage, desire, jealousy and hate were all powerful and all of them competing for first. “I’ll get ‘round to tyin’ him up eventually,” he said silkily. “I could even let you have a go, since you won’t be getting him any other way.” Renji roared and punched him. The Arrancar let the punch hit his face—his head turned from the impact, but he didn’t stumble back. He turned to look Abarai in the eye, deadly serious again. “Let me know if you’re interested, Shinigami, cause if you ever…ever touch him otherwise, I’ll rip out your fuckin’ throat,” Grimmjow growled.

“You’re disgusting,” Renji said viciously. “The sooner we get someone here to kill you, the better,” he finished with disdain.

“Yeah, I’m sure once I’m dead Kurosaki will be beggin’ to suck your dick,” he said and laughed harshly.

“Stop fucking talking about him that way! Do you not give a shit at all!?” Renji eyes were narrowed with anger. Grimmjow’s expression gradually dropped down to a more serious sneer.

“Stay away from what’s mine, Abarai. If anyone else talked about ‘im that way they’d have their dicks shoved halfway down their throats. So quit actin’ like Ichigo’s white knight and get over yourself.” Grimmjow finished, spat on the floor, and walked away. Renji punched the wall and cursed.



~AN~
I'm back! I want to thank everyone who's been reading. And the review folks, you've really inspired me to keep writing the fic and made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. As I mentioned in another story, I have an LJ now. It's a great place for Bleach yaoi, and I'll be uploading new stories of mine there first, probably. Angry at the World will still show up here first though.

Moonlit dew! I listened to Carnival of Rust. It's a great song and really got me in the mood for writing, especially the Aizen scene. The video for it is great too, and so is their other music. Also, you reviews are always specific and so nice. They make me blush, and are also great motivation. Thanks!

Special thanks to Nickie again for beta, and I wish I had time to respond to everybody individually! <3