Altering Intentions

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profits from this story.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the very long delay in updating. My beta (TillThatTime) was off picking flowers, not updating her own fic, and whatnot. Plus I kept sending her re-edited chapters. Our bad. Also, sorry for posting the second chapter, then immediately deleting it. Also, my bad. Thank you to all my reviewers. You are all wonderful and you keep this fic going. Cookies and boy sex for everyone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2

It took one kiss, one spontaneous kiss to shake Grimmjow, to make him become pathetic yearning for those lips again. That moment changed him, caused his mind to jumble, his body to quake, and his ego to dissipate as the image of Ulquiorra entangled in his arms jerked his body back in a twinge of hatred and ecstasy. He stopped, standing in the middle of the hallway. His breath increasing drastically as his hands began to shake. Grimmjow’s body was responding to a mere image of Ulquiorra and it made him sick. He wanted nothing more than to make it stop, make this attraction disappear, have these thoughts be washed away with hatred, with disgust for the one person who had his entire existence in the palm of his hand.

The hall was silent, not a sound from any direction. All that was able to be heard was Grimmjow panting, his breath in short spurts as he stood there legs apart, arms shivering while his shoulders moved vertically to the rhythm of his huffing. He clenched his left hand, nearly punching himself for the pathetic display. Swinging away from the wall, his hand landed atop his head, burying his long fingers in his teal hair, ruffling at it gently. He stood there for a moment calming his breathing and slowly uncurled his upper body, standing tall in the deserted hall. His disposition reverted back to the same cocky Grimmjow he knew so well.

He let out a final sigh of relief as his head slowly leveled out to gaze into the empty hall in front of him. Walking smugly around for what could only be described as an eternity, he found himself in front of a door.

Grimmjow reached for the knob, turning it slowly, hearing it click several times and swung the door open. The hinges made a very high pitched screech as Grimmjow let the door swing, spinning 180 degrees until the knob slammed against the wall. With one finger he flicked a switch upwards triggering the ceiling light to illuminate the room in an instant as he stood in the doorway staring into the space around him, at the cracks in the walls, at the spots on the floor.

There was a different aura to this room. It felt cold and uninviting, unlike a certain espada’s he so vividly recalled that felt almost…warm.

Grimmjow took three steps forward before slamming the door shut behind him, making an echo run down the hall. Staring straight into the room, he glanced over to the bed situated to his right, towards the corner of the room. On the left side of the bed stood a small pasty night stand similar in color to the bed frame. There was a mirror about six feet in length attached to the wall on the opposite side of the room. The walls had plaster marks over them caused from the countless moments Grimmjow’s rage provoked him to release his cero. His temperament has been under control for the most part nowadays but there were instances when his anger got the best of him.

No matter how much abuse this room received, it was Grimmjow’s haven, his personal shelter away from all the nonsense that was Las Noches. He did not spend much time in his room, however when he did, he would spend hours sitting on his bed, contemplating why his mind was creating him into this weakling, this dismal character that could not break free.

His bed was covered with a thin white sheet coating the mattress and a small white pillow resting against the head board. Slowly turning his back to the bed, he lowered his body as his arms stiffened at his sides and his hands clenched at the edge of the mattress, swiftly and firmly. Grimmjow’s hips relaxed into the mattress and his shoulder blades stiffened as his head tossed forward, flipping his teal hair over his face, his eyes fixed on his quivering knees. His gaze traveled from his trembling knees to the floor, expecting the ground underneath him to disappear and send him falling into darkness.

He could not escape, was unable to leave the confines of his mind. Fearing that someone would see him this way, this frail, this pitiful, he remained in his room struggling to get back his sanity. Those shivering knees began to gradually stop as he slowly lifted his head up and looked at the mirror, seeing himself, gazing at this espada’s entire body shaking because of one kiss, because of his lips. That kiss made him weak, yearning for more, for more of his touch, his taste, his everything.

He watched his expression change from feeble to malicious in an instant. Grimmjow would not let that man, that midget of an espada possess him, encompass him and leave him exposed, subdued. He jumped to his feet, grinning at the expression that began to consume him as his hands slipped into his pockets and he walked towards the door. Withdrawing his hand from his pocket he reached for the knob, turning it rapidly, swinging the door open, slamming it into the wall again, to find an espada walking past him in a daze.

This espada was tall, lean with pale skin. A jaw from his hollow mask situated right below his neck. Brown, wavy hair rolled down to his shoulders, his collar upturned. He had an oblivious disposition and appeared as if he were sleep-walking. His eyes were narrow and bloodshot. He walked past Grimmjow, head swaying from side to side.

“Always so brash, eh Grimmjow?” He slowly kept walking, not caring for the reaction Grimmjow was expected to make.

“Fuck ya, Starrk.” Grimmjow smiled and walked in the same direction, keeping a few steps behind him.

“Where’s Yammy?” Grimmjow stopped, watching Starrk pause for a second to answer the ill-mannered espada.

“Why would you be looking for Yammy?” Starrk was a tad intrigued by Grimmjow’s intentions and turned his head to the side, almost causing his body to fall with that motion.

“I’m itchin’ for a fight. Thought he might amuse me for a bit,” Grimmjow stared at Starrk, his eyebrow twitching from annoyance. “…Unless ya would like to entertain me instead, Starrk.”

“Not interested. Regrettably for you, Yammy insisted on accompanying Ulquiorra to the human world on his mission,” Grimmjow’s eyes widened in disbelief. Ulquiorra was where, with whom? That fucker was with Ulquiorra to do what exactly?

Frustration engulfed Grimmjow as he stomped past Starrk towards the devil’s den. There was no denying it, Grimmjow was jealous. His reasoning and his reaction to this situation did not make sense. Countless times Aizen had sent Ulquiorra on missions and Grimmjow was uncaring, but this time was different, this time he was with someone. He reached the door to Aizen’s chambers but immediately halted in disbelief. His emotions were overwhelming him. He did not envy anyone, did not become jealous of anyone, so why was he so upset over Ulquiorra and Yammy attending the human world together? That word was the reason, together. He did not understand but just the thought of Yammy right beside Ulquiorra caused him to be apprehensive, furious that Aizen would allow Yammy to be so near that man. He was foolish to even consider demanding that Aizen explain his reasoning behind permitting Yammy to go with Ulquiorra to the human world instead of himself.

Grimmjow took a step back from the door lingering there in exhaustion. Having these emotions develop was taking a toll on him, exposing him, lessening him. He turned around and walked away from it all, away from the devil, from his emotions, away from him. He reached his bedroom door. Without removing his hands from his pockets, he lifted his right leg, kicking the door open, almost breaking the hinges as the knob broke deeper through the wall, causing the hole to triple in size.

He paced in his room, waiting angrily for any news of Ulquiorra’s return. It felt like a life time that Ulquiorra was down in the human world and it made Grimmjow irritated. He was suffocated by everything, by Ulquiorra, by Aizen, by all this bullshit that he thought he would snap any moment. Hours seemed like days as Grimmjow’s mind repeatedly flashed images of Yammy touching Ulquiorra, laying those filthy claws on him, hurting him, raping him, and kissing him. Grimmjow was surely ready to burst. His mind was fucking with him and his hands formed fists so tight the skin of his palms was cracking. Grimmjow should be relaxing; he should be relieved that Ulquiorra was not in the vicinity, yet it made him tenser, almost lose his mind.

A knock on the door was all it took to make Grimmjow snap out of his stress induced panic and lunge forward towards the door. As he swung the door open, he glared at Starrk standing there, half asleep and yawning heavily.

“What the fuck do ya want?” Grimmjow ground his teeth at Starrk, watching him as he was unfazed by the action.

“Aizen-sama wants everyone to assemble for a meeting. Ulquiorra and Yammy will be returning shortly with plenty of valuable information,” Starrk walked away without another word. Grimmjow’s body tensed and he ran out of his room, almost trampling Starrk in the process, running towards the meeting hall.

This room was enormous in comparison to other rooms; however, the architecture was different. It did not have the white hue that Grimmjow’s bedroom had. The place was dim with enormous rock formations encompassing the space around them. Towards the middle of this meeting area was what appeared to be a stone block, very wide and very high. Situated on top of the block was a throne made out of white marble. Sitting on the throne in a god-like pose was Aizen, brightly illuminated as if the center of attention. Grimmjow watched as two forms walked through the entrance into the room. One figure towered over the other, yet the smaller one seemed to have more of an air of power about him.

Grimmjow’s eyes traveled up and down Ulquiorra’s body, inspecting every inch, attempting to locate even a hair out of place on Ulquiorra’s body. That minuscule hair would be more than enough to send Grimmjow spiraling at Yammy in revenge and jealousy, with intent to kill.

The meeting progressed; however, the moment the halls were quiet, out came a burst of yells from Grimmjow’s mouth. His anger towards Ulquiorra was easily heard by anyone around the vicinity of the meeting hall. Nevertheless Grimmjow’s shouting was silenced by Ulquiorra for a moment until Grimmjow continued, not letting the small espada explain himself further. Grimmjow glared at Ulquiorra as Aizen stopped their argument to side with Ulquiorra’s rationale behind the situation. Those cobalt eyes never left that unfeeling emerald one as the voice of god dissipated in the background. Grimmjow’s focus was on the pale espada so his surroundings became a blur as that angry stare slowly transitioned into a smirk. He was gradually becoming weak, useless, confined in his thoughts on Ulquiorra, the sole reason he acted out of character. That man was his puppet master, bending the strings to his desires.

Grimmjow had to break free, had to regain that control. He wanted to be the one who made Ulquiorra’s knees buckle, hands shake, and his mind be consumed by Grimmjow to the point where Ulquiorra’s body acted on impulse each time a thought of Grimmjow entered his mind. Grimmjow had to keep his head level, his thoughts away from Ulquiorra, from the man he craved with every inch of his body.

The meeting ended with a simple wave of the hand by the masquerading deity. As each espada went their separate ways, Grimmjow began to follow Ulquiorra unconsciously. Ulquiorra slowly stopped, keeping his back to Grimmjow.

“It ain’t like ya to leave anyone alive, Ulquiorra.” Grimmjow grinned as he kept walking towards the small espada.

“Kurosaki was not worth killing.” Ulquiorra’s face did not change. His eyes were shut and his body unmoving. He slowly opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the closeness of Grimmjow’s body to his own.

Grimmjow was a mere finger length away from the espada. His chest almost touching Ulquiorra’s head and his breathing slowly rising due to the intimate proximity between them. Grimmjow steadily bent his body forward, being eye level to the espada. He breathed into the side of Ulquiorra’s head, causing his black hair to tousle forward, exposing his small, pale ear.

There was a look on Ulquiorra’s face that was different than before. Even though his eyes were closed, his eyebrows formed a small scrunch of skin on his forehead, leaving Grimmjow to smirk in satisfaction. His lips came centimeters away from Ulquiorra’s right ear and the urge to trace his tongue against the cartilage was overwhelming but he held back as he spoke.

“Yer losing yer touch, Ulquiorra. Where’s yer emotionless disposition now?” Grimmjow grinned wider as he inched his lips so close to Ulquiorra’s ear that the contact made Ulquiorra’s eyes open in shock. “Yer not as unreadable as ya think,” Grimmjow looked at those eyes, wide and shocked.

In an instant, Ulquiorra’s eyes reverted back to those same cold emerald eyes that Grimmjow detested.

“Am I not? Enlighten me then, Grimmjow,” Grimmjow began to glide his lips alongside Ulquiorra’s ear, leaving Ulquiorra with that face that made Grimmjow gasp in ecstasy. His face changed, but his body was unmoved, unbreakable by the lips that wanted to consume him. Grimmjow slowly kissed Ulquiorra’s upper ear, making his way down to his ear lobe before gently sliding his tongue up along its ridges.
Ulquiorra’s shoulders twitched slightly and Grimmjow knew he had him. With one quick motion he bit down on his ear, causing Ulquiorra to gasp from the unanticipated action.

Grimmjow kept his grip on Ulquiorra’s ear as his grin widened and his thoughts began to race. He has never wanted anyone, body and mind, like he did Ulquiorra. The intensity of the moment made his breathing increase drastically and he had to stop before he passed out. He let his teeth leave Ulquiorra’s ear and he made his way down to his neck.

His lips pressed gently to the pale skin before he parted them, biting down harder on his neck, making Ulquiorra’s body twitch from the contact. Grimmjow’s hands remained in his pockets, fists forming as the force of his bite increased, almost breaking Ulquiorra’s skin.

At that moment, Ulquiorra’s left hand slowly began to form a fist, clenching ever so gently as the pressure of Grimmjow’s teeth slowly became pleasurable and his small lips began to part, releasing a slight pant. He did not let go, he could not. Grimmjow saw the look on Ulquiorra’s face and at that point he wanted nothing more than to fuck him where he stood. It was becoming harder to control himself. As he felt himself slipping, his hands began to slowly escape the confines of his pockets. He knew if this continued, Ulquiorra might get hurt, might get fucked by him without any pleasure coming his way. His teeth released Ulquiorra’s skin and he gently kissed the mark he had just created, calming his body and slipping his hands back into the pockets of his pants.

Ulquiorra’s shoulders began to shiver slightly as Grimmjow kept his lips on his neck; causing that spot he gave so much attention to become irritated and warm from the contact. He pulled back his lips slightly to gaze at the new bruise he left on the pale skin, realizing that Ulquiorra’s breathing increased, his shoulders were trembling, and his lips were parted wider, gasping for air. Grimmjow watched in awe as the shell that Ulquiorra maintained was slowly breaking, cracking with every touch of Grimmjow’s lips to Ulquiorra’s body. He realized his goal was reachable. He would make Ulquiorra want Grimmjow to fuck him, scream his name in total abandonment and ecstasy. He pushed his head forward, closer to Ulquiorra’s face.

“Seems ya can’t hide much from me,” His grin extended from cheek to cheek as he brushed his chest against Ulquiorra’s shoulder before straightening out his back and walking away, letting the other man watch him leave. As Grimmjow began to disappear before him, Ulquiorra’s disposition changed. It became colder and ferocity began to form in those wide green eyes as once again he was left there, contemplating what had just occurred, why this man was so persistent, so demanding, so…beautiful.