Grind

Disclaimer: Don’t own Bleach or the Songs. Other folks do. Ok? Ok.

Author’s Rant: Here ends the Prologues.

Inspiration: Dirty by Racey

Prologue 3:  A Loss

Her deep honeycomb eyes didn’t miss a thing. Every inch of the corner of Moffett and Valley Cone rolled in her line of vision like the lens of a telescope. She was diligent in this line of work. Always has been, always will be.

She counted six cars, a rundown red and cream 1996 Ford Pick Up, a beat up dirt brown 1981 Station Wagon and a rusted 1990 royal blue Camaro to her left. To her right flank, two mustangs were lined along the curb, one a red 2001 and the other a yellow 1989 and the last car about several meters off furthest from the rest was a 2002 Silver Pontiac.

Seven men and two girls were hanging around the curbs and empty lots posed as the Alliance’s suppliers to the community’s frequent visitors.  Bagmen were stationed on each angled post, two pushers parked on the curb and three other casually dressed guards keeping watch of where the merchandise was being sold.

B.K. (Black Kitty) as everyone knew her was parked between the gap of two adjoining abandoned buildings, acting as the current headman and holder of the drug refueling.

The erotic bodied dark skinned woman was lazily sitting gap legged on the hood of a 2011 gunmetal gray Chevy Tahoe, hands anchored between her knees and the tip of her white Dodger’s hat pulled over one eye. She didn’t bother trying to blend in with the crowd. There wasn’t a point since everyone knew who she was. She was decked in a body fitted neon pink and white tank top, a pair of forest green cargo shorts, and jet black low top Force Ones. All of her long violet hair was pulled through the opening in the back of her snap cap, save for one long swoop draggling from the front.

She sighed for the fifth time in the past hour as she recrossed her creamy smooth thighs over the other, leaning back against her heads, looking up to the pitch black sky.

This was punishment, pure and simple. Triple G knew how much she hated being caught up as Traffic Patrol during the weekend when she had better shit to do with her time. There was never any action happening here and T.G. knew this. He just liked fucking with her because he knew how pissed she’d get being out here.

She was bored, she was horny and she was hungry. All three were terrible combinations when meshed into one and she seriously hoped no one tried to fuck with her tonight because she wasn’t spraying no-damn-body the bullet. 

Yoruichi finally gave in to her fatigue, leisurely leaning back on the top of her windshield, closing her eyes, as she tried to place her mind elsewhere besides the funky atmosphere of drug dealers and paper wrappers. She reached in her pocket for a stick of bubble gum, unwrapping the colorful yellow and blue coating before popping it her mouth to chew.

Oh, oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah

I get a feeling that I never never never never had before, no no

I get a good feeling, yeah

Oh oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah

I get a feeling that I never never never never had before, no no

I get a good feeling, yeah

Right on cue; a straight line spread her lips apart until all her teeth were showing in an arrogant smirk. Finally something to give her a piece of mind. There was only one somebody to give her that good feeling.

B.K. sat up on the car, pulling her cell from her side pocket, gliding her thumb across the glass exterior, “Yo,” she answered, smacking her lips around the strawberry gum.

“So how much longer ya gonna be? It’s already past eleven.” The sultry husk of her girl never failed to sooth Yoruichi’s irritation. Even if she was angry with her, it did nothing to keep the smile from stretching even wider.

“Hello ta’ you too sweetie,” Yoruichi greeted cheekily. “You missin’ me already?”

“. . . It’s been ‘bout four hours,” Chuckled Halibel. “Guess ya don’t miss me as much as I do you.”

Yoruichi flipped to the other side of the hood, draping her legs off on the edge. “Course I do baby. Ya know I love me some chocolate.”

 “Mm, ya chocolate’s gonna melt if you don’t come eat it soon.”

Didn’t she know it? “Babe, you know I gotta pull shift ta’night. T.G. trippin’ as always.”  A round piece of gum expanded in a bubble before snapping off on B.K.’s tongue. “I hafta stay put till two.”

“Two? Damn Yoruichi, what cha do this time? That’s the third time this month you pullin’ a six,” Halibel tsked her lips. Yoruichi had to swallow the laugh she knew would piss her girlfriend off more. But it was just so sexy to hear her get mad. “Tsk, and I cooked all dis’ food thinkin’ ya were comin’ home early ta’night.”

“What’s cookin’ for me?”

“Mmm, yer favorites,” The blonde said sexily slow. “I had some cabbages, yams, macaroni with extra cheese, fried pork chops, and apple pie wit’ some whipped cream.”

Yoruichi groaned hungrily, “Damn baby, you couldn’t wait ta’ cook all that? It’s gonna be cold when I get home.”

“Too bad, I already put it up in da’ fridge. Guess ya gotta heat it up in the microwave.”

“Shut up,” Yoruichi smacked on her gum louder, a little annoyed. “Didja fix me a plate?”

There was a tense pause before a snippy remark vibrated the phone. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with yo hands. You can fix it ya’self.”

“Whoa, why ya actin’ up all of a sudden?” Yoruichi spat her gum to the ground, hopping off to pace the grassy ground in front of the Tahoe. “Where the attitude come from huh? Ya got a problem?”

Just then as she turned her heel around the grill of her car, a buyer came strolling up, eyes stained mango red, limp as weak as a leaf in a hurricane. His body shook even as he walked from across the street, eyes wild in a loss stupor. Yoruichi leaned against the car, cupping her phone to her ear and shoving her free hand in her pocket. She didn’t have time for this shit.

“Sup B, whatcha got fer ya man ta’day?”

Got’damn this man smelled like the inside of somebody’s ass. Yoruichi shifted on the balls of her heels, eyes narrowed to knife blade slits as she regarded the man with a look of aggravated disgust. “Gon’ somewhere Jim” She flicked her fist at him like he was a corner roach.

“C’mon B,” The fellow insisted, sniffling and rubbing a burn scorched finger under his nose. “I know ya got somethin’.”

Yoruichi looked the man up and down, lips inching up over her white teeth. She thought to speak her real mind to tell the dude to fuck off somewhere in a ditch but thought better of it since she was supposed to survey the money being made instead of scaring it off. Shit. “Riki!” She roughly called to a dark haired runner by the curb.

Soldier boy looked up from the side, eyebrows lifting to his hairline, “Yo!” He hollared back.

She wagged her finger in the air, motioning to the man in front her, “Handle dis.”

The young buck named Rikichi, finished up with a fiend he was selling too before hobbling over across the street, keeping his baggy jeans from falling around his ankles. One of his hands reached in the center pocket of his white cream hoodie for a dime bag. “Keep from ova’ here brah,” Riki scolded the dazed eyed man. “Ya know B.K. don’t deal shit.”

The man wasn’t thinking about that. He just wanted to get his share for the night as he exchanged his money for the little plastic bag of green before staggering off down the sidewalk to smoke up his bit until next time. Rikichi turned over his shoulder to see what his squad leader was up too, seeing her face crunched tight in something other than that crafty smile she’s always sporting. He figured her to be on the phone with her girl, since T.G. was out and her partner was called to duty.

“Babe, babe, shit, would ya shut up an’ lemme talk?” Yoruichi stressed in the receiver.

Halibel was letting loose a slew of illegal words, some in English and the rest in a language Yoruichi knew didn’t even exist. Seriously, she didn’t know whether to be pissed or amused at her baby’s attitude right now.

“You haven’t been home in two days, Chi’. I’m getting sick of dis shit!”

“First off, ya need to calm the fuck down and,” Yoruichi suddenly remembered Rikichi and snapped her fingers at the boy to come closer. She made a two finger motion against her lips and slid her index and thumb together. Rikichi caught on fast, taking out a lovely fresh rolled Icy Blue.  The scent and taste alone dubbed this her favorite since it loosened her up immediately without all the bullshit side effects the rest of the weak shit had.

She took the blunt when Rikichi lit it for her and she reached in her bra for a bill to pay. One inhale and she was already sagging hard against the grill, elbow resting on top and eyes hazy. With B.K’s sanity back in action she could deal with pretty much anything. “Babe look, ya know I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t haf too. Where else would I wanna be instead of in ya arms, hm?” She took another hit, grin sharp enough to carve diamonds.  “You know I laa ya right?”

“I la ya too babe, that’s why I want cha home,” Halibel said in a calmer tone. “I hate when ya runnin’ da’ streets at night. Ya know shit happens.”

“Shit can happen anywhere sweetie. I need ta’ make dis money so I can keep ya lookin’ good. The things I do, I do fer you. A’ight?” Dirty trick she knows, but sweet talking came much better after taking a sniff of Icy. Yoruichi could sweet talk her way out of Halibel’s tantrums with ease; especially when she added in promises of making good green to keep her fine ass in those expensive designer clothes she loved to buy at the Mall.

“Fine,” Halibel agreed. “Jus’ be careful ta’night kay?”

“I will,” Yoruichi sizzled off another huff, eyes closing hard against the cooling sensation down her throat. “Love you.”

“Love ya too. Bye.”

“Bye.” She hung up, feeling some relief after that little chat. Arguments and stank attitude that normally came with their talks were fine; Yoruichi didn’t care because she expected both. This was how they communicated and anyone who didn’t understand could fuck it.

“You a trip B,” Rikichi mused, coming up to her as she stuffed her phone back. “Why ya messin’ wit’ dat girl if all ya’ll do is fuss?”

Yoruichi held her hand out for the complicated hand ritual all Crips went through and snorted, “S’love baby. Ain’t shit else keepin’ me with ‘er.” She took another long drag from the joint, rolling the fiery taste on her tongue before releasing it through her lips.

“Too much drama, if ya ask me.”

“Ain’t nobody ask you,” She snickered, handing over the rest of the blunt to the young sixteen year old. “What cha doing out here dis late?”

“Makin’ stacks fer my mama,” he muffled around the dry paper between his lips. “Got bills ta’ pay an’ my old man ain’t handling his shit.”

Yoruichi smirked, “Get a job den.”

“Whateva’.”  Rikichi playfully nudged his shoulder against her hers, the two sharing a small laugh, followed by an easy silence. Nothing but the sounds of low murmurs and bypassing cars ruptured the relaxation between them. Yoruichi returned to keeping survey over the clan of peps strolling down near the alleyways and some entering and those leaving.  Rikichi returned to his post for another few minutes, later on heading off to another part to deal.

It was another hour before her cell phone started humming “Rack City” by Tyga between her breasts. She had two folks labeled under that song. One she knew was doing work another thirty minutes off and O.G, their immediate monarch.

The ID read O.G. (Original Gangsta). He rarely called anybody; something must be on. She picked up on the third ring, “Sup Kenny.”

“Where you at?” Kenpachi Zaraki’s smoky voice rumbled. “We got shit ‘bout ta’ go down.”

This wasn’t the kind of action she was thinking of. Yoruichi frowned, jerking off the side of her car. “Where at, what’s goin’ on?”

“Some bustas from Tree Top’s rolled out on South Compton by the Scared Heart Clinic, blowing shit up. S’ a fuckin’ mess down here. Now they headin’ ta Kelly Park.”

“Shit!” The situation just escalated to level deadly. Yoruichi rounded the Tahoe, jumping in the driver’s seat and cranking the engine in record time. “Where ‘bout in Kelly Park?”  Her hand popped open the glove compartment, pulling out her Desert Eagle Magnum. 

“Da’ Network.  Some got’damn pussies rolled up in about five hummers, without warning.  Dey took out Baby Shu, Jimmy D and Deck.”

Yoruichi paused after stacking in her third round.  She wished she hadn’t heard that right. “Baby Shu dead?” She whispered. “Are ya sure they got Shuren?”

“Yeah they got ‘em. He out just like da’ rest of ‘em . . .”

“Fuck!” Yoruichi slammed her fist hard enough to rattle her steering wheel, wishing the thing cracked under the force as she leaned forward, resting her forehead on the leather surface. Shuren? Her boy Shuren was dead? “Got’damn . . .” Of all the folks to get laid out . . . She never would’ve taken him being one of the grunts being gunned down.

She heard some shuffling in the background and some familiar voices. “Strap up B, ya ain’t got time to be mourning. That can be done at the funeral. Shit ‘bout ta’ get ugly ta’night.”

Who was he telling? B.K. cocked back her gun, jacking her gear into mock 3. Damn straight shit was about to go down. One of her crew mates just got taken out. This shit just got personal. “I’m on my way.” She quickly tied a navy blue bandana around her throat, eyes blazing solid gold. 

Tire wheels were screeching off the road, heading down south with only a sense of vengeance as her guide.

                                                                                        

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If he’d been thinking in his right mind he would’ve ran his ass up outta there when he had the chance. But street-wise common sense kept his feet trucking along despite the blatant ignorance behind why. The fact that he was surrounded from the back to the front by dressed blue soldiers should’ve been his first clue to tell his soon-to-be fuck that he wasn’t feeling this kind of environment and to take his carrot head ass back to the club. Getting some ass wasn’t that serious.

But, and yes there always is a but behind why people did stupid shit.

For Ichigo it was pretty simplistic. He wanted to go deeper into this feel of thrill gurgling in his stomach. Grimmjow excited him or rather the thought of just being around him got Ichigo’s body purring for a chance to see what he was capable of. The man’s swagger was everything he wanted in a man. Confident, powerfully egotistic, and skin pores oozing sex appeal. Not an ounce of fat clung to those vein mapped arms or the thick calve muscles rolling and jumping with every step.

And lord help him did this man have an ass made of solid steel. Ichigo thought twice about bouncing a quarter off just to see how many miles it’d fly.

Fine wasn’t the word. Oh hell no, that single adjective couldn’t do him justice. Flat out flawless was what best suited him. He was so damn tall, pushing every inch of his body to the sky. 6’4 at best. Ichigo planned to lick every inch of his copper tanned skin like a deranged fat kid in a candy store. Muscles were flexing parts not even known in anatomy. But what got really had Ichigo’s trigger fingers twitching was the chaotic mass of lightning blue hair staggering in every which a way. He wanted to run his fingertips through every strand, feel the texture against his face and the smell.

He had a freakish fetish with smelling sexy shit, so sue him. Anyway off track.

Ichigo’s cinnamon brown eyes danced over the machinery called back muscles all working and gearing around to create the perfect mode of mobility. Scratch lines were gonna be spread like jelly to toast against that harden body. 

Ichigo guaranteed it.

The endless list of sexy characteristics could be detailed forever and still not be enough to suffice Ichigo’s dumbass reason for following Grimmjow into a house full to the brim with blue blood crips. Outside where the he and Grimmjow were trailing down a grass devouring sidewalk, every set of eyes centered to them. It was as if they were stunned silent, all abilities to function halted just because of seeing a newcomer.

Ichigo kept his eyes straight ahead, avoiding all kinds of focal contact. He knew better than to tempt faith. It was so easy to get a bullet in the back of the head just from misinterpreted body language. Both hands stayed pocketed, nice and tight. As intrigued as he was by being so mind fucked by Grimmjow’s body, he still had to maintain an even head.  There was no telling how these folks rolled.

He’d be damned if he found out the hard way.

Grimmjow cocked his chin to another low soldier standing by the side of one of three neighborhood Meet Ups. This house here was a personal hold up for most young bucks to gather just to get acquainted with one another, sharing bragging rights and simply buying whatever merchandise happened to be available. This was house number three, a recruitment station used for mediocre nonsense . Houses number one and two were located on the further sections of the territory where Triple G and Double G kept watch over parts in their branch of Kelly Park.

One local recruit came forward, a tall, slender man as skinny as a beanpole,  pale green hair flipped all to the side of his head and eyes as yellow as dry grass. He was wearing a thick, heavy set gray and black hoodie, sleeves cut at the shoulders, acid stained black jeans, and gray high top Forces. He wore a light baby blue bandana tied around his upper arm. His expression was stoic, stiff.

Even the smile he graced for his upper ranker seemed forced as he performed the signature handshake, “Sup G.”

Grimmjow’s eyes darkened “’Bout ta handle mines. What cha up too Arturo?”

“Not a lotta. What kind of business ya got here,” Arturo leaned his head to the side to get a gander at what his friend was deeming business, nodding his approval at the sight of peace creamed skin and riotous orange hair. At Ichigo’s disapproved frown, he gave another nod.  “I ain’t mad at ya.” He chuckled, definitely pleased. “Go work dat playa”

Grimmjow looked over his shoulder. Ichigo met his eyes before slicking off, a hot shade of red creeping up his neck to his face.  The air of predative confirmation tugged the muscles on Grimmjow’s into a grin so wide the points of his too sharp canines, glinted like the eyes of a panther. “I’ma handle mines a’ight. Don’t even worry.”

He watched Ichigo’s whole demeanor get offensive. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to see. He knew there was a reason he stuck around for this carrot top. Grimmjow would’ve missed out on some good ass had he passed up this firecracker. The way those two maple sweet eyes flared up made a hot beeline of horniness squeeze Grimmjow’s loins.

He flicked his wrist forward, gesturing candy corn to come closer. Ichigo hesitated for a moment, before complying, coming to stand by Grimmjow, looking up to him with those too innocent brown eyes.  Blue clashed hard into the sultry maple syrup eyes for the longest, not saying a single word.

When Ichigo’s face scrunched, obvious impatience written in every line on his brow, Grimmjow couldn’t resist smirking wide and devilish as he shook his head.

“Problem?” Ichigo snapped, irritated.

“Nothin’, ya got a sexy blush.”

The blush took on a deeper hue of maroon; flushed without even being in bed. This was going to be a fun night. “S-shut up.”

Another chuckle came just as Grimmjow snatched his arm around that trim waist, roughly dissipating any opening between their bodies.  He put his mouth right on Ichigo’s ear, voice hauntingly deep as he grunted, “You hot, when ya mad.”

Ichigo shivered like someone just poured a bucket of ice water down his pants. The things this man’s voice did to him were just so tantalizingly delicious. It had that same feel of getting your first sip of first steamed coffee early in the morning, trickling down your esophagus.  Ichigo’s eyes took on a coppery tint, glossed with anticipating lust as he gazed up in two of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

“C’mon,” Grimmjow’s grip was hard and very tight around Ichigo’s midsection, literally dragging his body by his side to the front door. All tension seemed to sag from Orange’s body , leaning all his weight against Grimmjow’s flank as he allowed himself to be lead inside the powdery blue fortress, all thoughts of worry weaned away from his mind.

Grimmjow didn’t bother knocking on the front door. He just let himself inside, welcoming the barraging waves of many, many illegal flavors assault his nostrils. The misty blaze of Red Dawn, Kush and Purp layered the inside of the living room like a Jamaican cook out. The interior of the home was nothing like the exterior. It appeared like something straight out of Scarface.

In the midst of the hazy celestial Ichigo could make out the décor, and vaguely whistled in his mind. Yes he was impressed. For a bunch of gang bangers they had taste.

Every foot of the walls was painted an alabaster white. The carpet was plush, stainless without a single mark on its surface. It, two three seater couches on either side of the walls, a love seat to his right and even the three short metal pole lamps with white shades added a certain gneiss say qua to the color theme; despite it being illegal and deadly as all get out. Two round wooden low tables were sat in front of a couch, all littered with the ingredients to make the perfect joint piece.

There were only four men inside, two piled in one love seat with the more slender of the two straddling a bald head soldier’s lap. To the other side one other was quietly conveying with a cute blonde with hair falling all over the seat cushions and a seductive smile on his face for his spike haired lover.

The first to speak up was the man with the extra weight on his legs, wearing nothing but a pair of acid stained blue jeans and navy blue wrist bands around his hands, which were currently groping the shit out of his little friend’s ass. The bald head person, tilted his head to side when hearing the door open and pulled a quick jerk in the newcomers direction. “Grimm, what ya doin’ round here?” Ikkaku asked teasingly. “Ya don’t write, don’t speak, ya ass ain’t welcomed here.”

“Shut up,” Grimmjow returned, quirking his chin to the side. “I goes wherever I damn well please.”

“Wha’ it  do G,” Greeted the male from the other side of the room, curled up with the sexy blond around his shoulders, legs gapped wide as he pulled a long drag of his blunt between his lips. “Ain’t see you since Moby Dick was a meno.” Shuuhei didn’t care to wear much clothing either, showcasing every single tattoo on his board, extremely toned chest muscles, and the most noticeable one being the 69 tat under his left right and a trio of navy lines exiting from under his shaggy blue black hair.

“Been busy,” Grimmjow grumbled, possessively gluing Ichigo to his hip. “’Bout ta stay busy too.”

Ikkaku bust a gut laughing a little too hard, “I ain’t mad at cha. Gon’ handle yers man.” A sly wink, shot to Ichigo. “Good luck orange.”

Grimmjow paused a sec, piercing eyes locking at the gruel on the tables before granting Ichigo a cool look, “Ya smoke?”

Ichigo jumped a little; only a little out of his shoes when Grimmjow’s voice caught him out of his wandering moment. He’d been keeping to himself, surveying the terrain of the house when Grimmjow’s voice snuck up on in his ears like a jolt of electricity. “Huh, what?”

“Do ya smoke Candy Corn?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Ichigo sniffed the air, sucking every known scent. “Depends on the flava.”

“Take a pick, we got’a buffet spread right here,” Grimmjow escorted them to Ikkaku’s table grabbing one of the Icy blunts, untouched.

“Hey man get yer own shit,” Ikkaku scuffed half funny, half pissed.

“Shut up.” Grimmjow didn’t bother giving a damn about his crew buddy’s merchandise since he could replace the supplies later. He was too busy watching the light swim in those sweet sugar eyes when the blunt was kindly handed to his carrot top. When he chuckled, Ichigo felt every muscle bass rumble in his side and kept himself swooning the best he could.

God this man was too sexy for his own good.

“Ya ready for me, yeah?”

“Hmm Mmm,” Ichigo found himself purring. Fucking purring yes he’s been ready to fuck since they met.

“Take that shit in the back room,” Shuhei taunted, flipping his thumb toward a hall leaning to the treasure room. “Ya know we don’t fuck in public.”

“Fuck you,” Grimmjow snapped back, already heading in that direction. They walked through the narrow angled hall, walls just as white and bare of any pictures or any decorative items one would see in a normal house.

But then again this wasn’t a normal house now was it?

They stopped at the third room on the right, Grimmjow turning the bronze handle and pushing forward, the door gliding a soft swish across the cotton thick carpet. Both entered the room, fresh air conditioning coming from the imported machine lunged tight between a back window facing the side of the house. Ichigo took a moment to inspect the new space, nodding his head, lip jutted out. Again he was impressed. Granted this wasn’t as well designed as the living room but it suited anyone’s comfort to the same degree as a four star hotel room.

 There was a king sized bed neatly tucked in a corner, dressed in a royal blue comforter with white sheets folded over, white paper thin pillows, a cherry wood night stand with, naturally the same stainless steel handle lamp like the ones in the living room.  In front of the bed about ten feet away was a large vanity mirror, perched high against the wall. Right in line of the sex base of all places. You can fuck and see yourself being the fucker or the fuckette.

The hairs on the back of his neck shot up on all ends, when a strong chord of muscled arms looped around his neck from both ends, puzzling his back into the heated cuff of a firm chest. Ichigo hadn’t known the blunt was lit until Grimmjow’s breathe teased the shell of his ear, leaking to his nose, “Ya gotta relax Candy Corn. Too tense.”

Ichigo shakily laughed, feeling the grind of something unspeakably large probing against his ass cheeks. “I’m cool,” he whispered for some reason. “Just need ta’ loosen up a bit.”

“A’ight den,” The blunt rose under Ichigo’s nose, the sizzle of ashes lightly flicking off the auburn tip. “Take a hit.”

“Keh,” Ichigo plucked the weed straight from the fingers. “Don’t mind if I do.” He did wait another minute to prep the tip with his tongue, tasting the savory twang before nipping it between his lips, and taking a long inhale. He wouldn’t have dared to take a good whiff, if he wasn’t already experienced with the stuff.

The look of control was all in his poise as he stopped short and relaxed the smoky juices through his nose, a dreamy sigh exiting his dried lips.  Both eyes slid shut, lost in a world beyond this one, nearly unmindful of the fire calloused palms skating underneath his shirt and the feel of smooth lips on the side of his neck. His labored breathing hitched as teeth grazed his tender skin and a lap of a hot tongue sullen the curve hidden below his collar.

Grimmjow turned his face enough that his nose brushing the side of Ichigo's jaw, taking in all the foggy extrusions. The grind was slow, provocative and so enticing. Ichigo could feel every inch of man power grounding in his ass as a semi bliss rock swayed them from side to side.  Hands were everywhere on his stomach, tracing all six of his tight abs, between the times and long the bulging swells.

His eyes were closed in a mixture of pleasure and a pleasant high gradually creeping in his mentality. He didn’t know where to focus on more; the hands learning the plains of his khaki skin, the tongue seeking tastes or the big piece di—

Bitches ain’t shit, and they ain’t sayin’ nuthin’

A hundred muthafuckas can’t tell me nuthin’

I beez in the trap, bee, beez in the trap

I beez in the trap, bee, beez in the trap

“Shit,” The vibrations immediately stole away all his never land feelings. Ichigo sighed straight agitation as he fished around his pocket for his black touch screen. The ID read Rukia. What the hell she doing calling him at a time like this?  Ichigo grinned sheepishly, pressing the red end key.

Grimmjow leaned forward, “Problem?” Face just as scrunched.

“Nah, S’ cool. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Get rid of dat,” Grimmjow did the job for him, easing the phone from his hand and tossed it on the bed. “Bed,” he ordered deeply.

Ichigo gladly obliged, him and Grimmjow moving as a single huge mass of fire, legs tangled in between thighs and arms wrapped tight. By the edge, Ichigo bent forward, ass high in the air. Fingers fondled over the belt buckles keeping Ichigo’s pants snug around his waist, jangling loud. One snap and the whole set camp pooling around his ankles. 

Ichigo nearly dropped the blunt on the bed when his silk boxers came sliding off his ass and ice shards began prickling against his bare naked cheeks.  

“Damn I love dat’ ass,” Grimmjow sneered deeply, smacking a wide hand over the lovely spread.

Ichigo bit his tongue hard to keep the unmanly squeak from coming. That shit kind of hurt, but he liked it. He got two more rough slaps sure to leave fingerprints on his butt by sunrise.

u bitch, u a bitch nxxxx ,u a bitch

u bitch, u a bitch nxxxx ,u a bitch

u bitch, u a bitch nxxxx ,u a bitch

u bitch, u a bitch nxxxx ,u a bitch

What the fuck was this? Mess with Ichi night? Now it was Renji blowing up his phone. “Damn.”

“Got’dammit man, kill that noise!” Grimmjow’s voice snarled angrily, pushing Ichigo off from his crotch as he stalked to the window irritated for having been interrupted twice in least then ten minutes. His pants were weakly clinging to his knees as he stepped out of them, kicking the whole pair to the side, and perched against the wall, arms folded and gaze clearly reading danger.

Ichigo turned to sit on the bed’s edge, looking at his cell like it was the ugliest think he’d ever seen. Funny. Ain’t it crazy how your phone wants to ring when you’re in the middle of doing anything good? Well tough fucking cookies. He was trying to get laid tonight, not answer the phone to babysit someone’s worries.

He’ll tell them where he was later. If not, he could always get his moms to pick him up. She was working the late shift tonight anyway.

“Done,” he grunted. The phone now a distant memory, he flattened out on the comfortable bed. “Kay, no more interruptions.”

“Better not,” Kicking off the wall, a scowl painting his handsome face, Grimmjow stepped out of his pants and idly strolled onward, stopping dead between Ichigo’s legs. “C’mere and suck.”

“Sure will.” Ichigo was more than happy to get a sip of what lied beneath the silk. Eager as a little boy with a porn mag, all his hands scrambled over the satiny material, excitement moisturizing his tongue. Curiosity ate him alive.

And once he was refused the yummy bounty when an distraction impossible to ignore came crashing through the door.

“What the hell!” Grimmjow and Ichigo shouted before things really got out of hand. They didn’t realize what happened before all actions became chaotic. Scenes rolled in slow motion. The barrel of a gun came sticking through the door and with it the spout of auburn fire. Ichigo didn’t have the time to react as the room went from being a two person occupant, to being stacked tight with shades of first blinding crimsons and running behind, some royal blues. There were shouts.

He vaguely remembers a gut crunching shove and his face sticking flat on the cotton soft floor.

It all happened at once, everything happened so fast. Gun fire rained loud, bullets whistled horror tunes in their ears.  His eyes could only see sides of Force Ones, Air Jordans and Chucks shuffling around the room, some sticky with blood.

There were loud shouts, the roar of tangling gunmetal clanking and then the sting of a thousand bees piercing Ichigo’s side. Things following sounded like the inside of a tunnel. The battle field commenced, deep throat roars the line of fire not discriminating who got caught. Ichigo felt everything getting dark. His ears rung like the thump of a tuning fork.

The pain was immense; he couldn’t speak for the sake of all the flicks taking place. It was pure mayhem.  Thunderous eruptions shattered the air, glass shards shun against the bust of fire.  The middle of a twilight zone. A female’s voice screeched over the noise, feet shuffled all around.

Then . . .

Then all of a sudden the madness came to a screeching halt. There wasn’t a sound.

Voices were muffled, so far away.  Lights flickered in the back ground, shunning like angels from the clouds. The voices returned minutes later, there were some he recognized, some he didn’t.

It all happened so suddenly. Ichigo was in and out of the zone, darkness swallowing and regurgitating him back to the light. He finally submitted to the cooling sensation cloaking his body.  It felt better this way.

                                                                                                  

---

                                                                                                             

The Tahoe screeched hard against the asphalt cutting rubber sheets to the side of the road.

Yoruichi sighed as she side glanced her partner’s ruffled demeanor and the scowl of fury buried across his face.

Grimmjow was angry. When he got this way it was hard to get through to him. He’d only had a one tracked mind when she’d rolled up, gun at the ready and face as hard as iron ore.

She kept a firm hand with a thick pile of tissue cupped to the leaking wound against her upper arm. During the raid and the splatter of ammo, a single bullet grazed over her flesh. A tiny nick, suffice to say but the sting of fire pain remained.

“I’m fine, G,” she murmured for the tenth time as he whipped around the corner, reading his mind’s inner turmoil.

Grimmjow gave her an evil, cold look. Had she been anyone else, it would’ve made her hold her tongue. But after knowing him all but the first nine years of their life, she wasn’t the type to be kept quiet. 

“Ya shoulda called me B,” Grimmjow fiercely growled. “Da’ fuck ya planned ta’ do huh? Ya tryna end up like Shu?”

“I was handling mine, Grimm.” She shot back angrily. “Fuck, I ain’t gonna pussy out jus’ cuz ya ain’t around. I got two hands ta shoot with.”

“Ya fuckin’ stupid.”

“You fuckin’ stupid.”

Grimmjow sighed audibly as he slowed to the next turn, head resting back against the head rest. There was no dealing with this woman. “We headin’ home ta get ya fixed up. Dat cool wit’ you?”

“I’m good,” Yoruichi assured, pressing her t-shirt into the scratch. “Jus’ need a band aid and some alcohol.” She sat back too, eyes screwed shut. “Can’t believe those mutherfucker’s got Baby Shu. S’ fucked up.” She drew in and exhaled it out long and winded, glancing out the corner of her eye to the extra cargo stored in the back seat. “What we gonna do wit’ him?”

Grimmjow didn’t answer back. He didn’t for the entire ride on. What he planned to do would probably be the first kind thing he ever did for someone outside his partner in crime, Yoruichi. He felt, almost obligated to help the kid out after what went down.

It was the least he could do. . .

They soon pulled into the closest hospital near the territory was personally owned by a few from the crew. Here, Ichigo could get treated and no one the wiser. It was here he left the boy here and thought the best way to get back in the mix of things of what was going down to hopefully correct all that’d happened.

It was time to add to the list of never ending revenge. The ball was tossed back in the blue court now.

It was his turn to talk.

---

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

You have seven saved voice messages. You have no saved voice messages.

First voice message.

Hey Sweetie, I just got off a little early tonight. I’m thinking of fixing dinner, so if you have any special requests let me know and I’ll have it ready. . . Ichigo. . . I know it’s strange to say all of a sudden, but I’m so very proud of you sweetheart. You’ve done so much to make yourself into a better man. I can’t wait to see my baby dressed in his uniform on his graduation. You’re going to look so handsome. Make sure you come home early tonight to get enough rest.  Love you baby. ~ Masaki Kurosaki

. . . . . . . .

Next voice message.

Ichigo I demand you to call your Papa back at once. I haven’t heard from my son in an hour. You’d best bring your butt home this instant or you’re grounded. ~Isshin Kurosaki.

. . . . . . . .

Next voice message.

Ichigo answer the fuckin’ phone!  You need to tell me where you at. I gotta pick you up. Ya mama got caught in a crossfire when she got off work. Call me back ~ Renji

. . . . . . . .

Next voice message.

Why the fuck ya ain’t answerin’ Ichigo? I called you ten fuckin’ times! You need to come down to Sacred Heart. Ya mama in the hospital! ~ Rukia

. . . . . . . .

Next voice message.

Ichigo man please pick up dawg, for fuck sakes ya mama dying brah. ~Renji

. . . . . . . .

Next voice message.

Ichigo please, please, please answer yo phone. Ya mama needs you. Please, shit pick up! Os fuckin’ more important than ya mama? ~Rukia

. . . . . . . .

Next voice message.

Hello Mr. Kurosaki, this is Sgt Hitsugaya from the Compton Police Department. . . It’s with a heavy heart that I must inform you that your mother, Masaki Kurosaki was caught in the midst of a gang provoked cross fire about thirty minutes ago. I’m terribly sorry to say that she didn’t make it. Please give us a call back as soon as you can. ~ Sergeant Toshiro Hitsugaya.

TBC: So many questions . . . so much drama.