Revive Me

I left him after carving my mark. That night… well, shit, I haven’t slept that well since the day I was born. I had dreams, and they didn’t suck. My skin still had an eerie memory of holding him, maybe it was mocking me for having given a damn. The days passed in Hueco Mundo, and no one there was like Kurosaki. Every corner I turned there was just drab fucking white, and silence. There were no bright shocks of hair or eyes that demanded me to ignore warnings and do whatever the fuck I felt like doing.

The ice cold shock of his body, I ached for it. He was like an outlet for this oppressive fire in my chest that threatened to burn me up like a dry tree. I couldn’t let his memory go. Addictive. I wasn’t in love with him, but his body—his body was like love. The way it moved, the way it formed to me and chilled me to the core… demandin’ I flirt with death. A heart ‘a dead, crushed coal, and I was the only one, and I wanted to stay the only one, who could see what he could be made into. More, boy, give me more, more to me.

I needed to know if his eyes were still dead, still out looking for me. I needed to know he was still mine. I was burning up, the fire was back. It was eating me alive, consuming me. Flames licked with growing pain at my skin, in my brain. He’s this lil’ spot of cooling light.

Kurosaki needed me. I got the feeling that he did. He did that time, and still did. I gnawed at my skin, gnawed until my knuckles were bloody. There was this air of insanity everywhere. I’m fuckin crazy, and it was still enough to be oppressive. Crazy thoughts, smothering my lungs, a gaping emptiness in my chest. I wanted him. Needed him again. Red and lonely and mine, I saw it in his eyes. Metal taste coated my mouth. If an Arrancar was the only one who understood him, then he sure as hell was in trouble. Then he sure as hell still needed me.

As soon as I entered Karakura, I could feel his reiatsu everywhere. It crackled and snapped like a whip, overcharged and raging. For awhile I just stood there and let it strike at my skin. Unadulterated power let absolutely wild, what better feeling was there? I could hear the screams of Hollows as Kurosaki killed them, lots of them. He was still death alright.

He started moving, walkin’ slowly back home. I hung far back while I followed, not wantin’ to be sensed too early. Not that there was much of a chance of Kurosaki sensing me, I thought with a derisive snort. His heart just ain’t in the details. I took a leap to his window ledge, and smirked to myself about Kurosaki’s new door. I looked in and saw him just standin’ there, watchin’ at some spot on the wall. I hoped he wasn’t too tired from killin’ all those Hollows, cause I had plans, fuckall.

“Hey Shinigami,” I drawled as I took a step inside, and he was already turning to face me. I planted my feet and stuck my hands in my pockets, appraising the lil’ firecracker. I was excited; I was still riled up from the kid’s display earlier. I could remember each potent lick of lightning on my body, and it sent a line of heat between my legs just t’think about it. “Y’made kinda a big fuss tonight, don’t y’think?” I asked him suddenly. I was all for killfests, but it was pretty fuckin dumb to just summon them for shits’n’giggles.

I waited for an answer, staring at him. He didn’t usually make me wait for a comeback or an insult, and my eyes narrowed in suspicion. I took a hard look at his face, and I really didn’t know what the fuck that expression was all about. What’s that fuckin’ word, ambivalent? Like he wasn’t sure I was even there. My mind grabbed an idea and ran with it without much thinkin’. I went towards him and grabbed his hair to pull his mouth against mine. His face collided with my mask, an’ I didn’t care if I scraped him up a little.

But it wasn’t rough. It was so fuckin’ warm. My mouth, I thought possessively, rough chapped lips and all, Kurosaki’s body was mine. But the stupid body wasn’t kissing me back, I noticed angrily. It was like I was trying to resuscitate him for fuck’s sake. To fix it I yanked a little on his titian hair and grabbed his arm in a bruising grip. This wasn’t just a goddamn social call.

Then he came back to me in a burst, his mouth surged forward in need and my chest heated in a soppy way Aizen would frown at, but fuck him. ‘Cept, I knew it wasn’t a good idea to let that feeling grow either, but I wasn’t going t’stop tryin’ to fuck Ichigo. Feelin’ his tongue, willing, felt even better. I released my hold on his arm and stroked it. I know Kurosaki is a sucker on the inside, so maybe he’ll forgive me for bein’ rough if I just act sweet every once in awhile. And when he forgives me and gets all melty, I get a motherfucking sweet reward.

I kept my grin off my face somehow. The heat was beginning to build and I pressed closer to him, wanting more. I was almost ready t’ shove him against the wall when ‘is hands touched my face, and they were wet. Strange consistency.

I grimaced and pulled away from him, he still looked lost. Empty, cold. Somethin’ had gone wrong. My hands snapped up to grab his wrists and tug them down into my vision. Fuck. Fuck. His hands and arms, hell, most of his haori was covered in blood. How did I not notice this shit!? Adrenaline and fury raged through my blood at the kid’s blind stupidity.

“Shit Kurosaki,” I said loudly, hiding the vague hint of fear I was experiencing. “What the fuck is this? Is this your blood?” The fucker didn’t answer me, so I shook his hands in front of his face, hoping it would click with something in his stupid head. “Is this your fucking blood Ichigo!?” I roared, wondering why he wouldn’t fucking answer me. Who doesn’t answer that kinda goddamn question?! His eyes flickered and his mouth opened, but no words came out. My head could only think a one reason why Kurosaki fucking Ichigo would stare at the world like a lifeless toy and not tell me why he was covered in blood, and my body felt like it was boiling. “You fucking idiot,” I snarled and threw him at his bed. He was about to die. He was dying. Dying. Dead.

I yanked open his haori, my fingers raced across his chest and sides; they tugged up his sleeves and checked for broken skin, prodding harshly with no mind for gentleness. I threw him onto his stomach and checked his back and his hakama for any openings. All I found were small wounds. Nothing to explain all that blood or the coldness of his unyielding flesh. I stopped.

“You’re not bleedin’ to death. None ‘a your wounds coulda’ got all that blood on your hands, so why don’t y’tell me where it’s from, and what the fuck is wrong with you,” I growled at him. Slowly, he sat up, looking at his bloody hands like he’d never seen ‘em before, and then wiped ‘em on his clothes. I was fucking furious, it was bubbling on my skin and searing my nerves. How dare he fucking ignore me, how dare me fucking make me give a shit about him. I punched the little bitch, but he caught it, suddenly alert.

“You’re being rude,” he growled back at me. What. The. Fuck.

“Rude. I’m being rude, right, okay, fuck you punk,” I said, pissed beyond all measure. Of all the things for him to say, Ichigo suddenly tells me I’m rude for making sure he’s not dying?! Fuck that shit. I was ready to leave, but the kid’s hands shot out like lightning to grab my jacket and pull me down next to him, mouth covering mine. I wasn’t really game for it anymore, not after all that shit, but I wouldn’t turn down a kiss that eager. Then he pretty much melted my brain.

He made this little whining noise that shot down and tightened my groin like a piano string. He leaned back and arched his chest like a woman, pressing up against me. His hand rubbed around and above my chain of fate hole, a touch so cold it left trails on my body. The violence that had simmered under my skin began to fade. His reiatsu sucked at my inner fire, relief. I wanted it so bad, because nothin’ else had been able to shrink that blaze before, made it feel under control. But I knew, something in my head knew Kurosaki was fucked up, that this wasn’t normal—

He grabbed my crotch and palmed me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was going to fuck his beautiful ass into the ground, I needed him, I needed to be in him. I groaned and slammed him down onto ‘is bed, I ripped open his clothes without thought. I pulled his legs apart and stretched him for about two seconds before I decided I didn’t give a shit, and then shoved myself in. I watched his face like m’life depended on it; he bit through his lip to stop himself from screaming. I eyed the blood like an addict.

He was as fuckin’ cold as ever. Our eyes met and that stupid dullness, the dead eyes were gone an’ all that was left was the same ol’ challenge, the fuckin’ arrogant greeting he’d always had for me. It never failed to make my hate bubble up and out of control, but I didn’t lash out—I just looked down at him.

“Is this all y’got, Grimmjow?” He asked harshly. I was shocked for a second. Where the hell did this come from? But it was secondary to showin him. Of fucking course it wasn’t all I had, the fucking twat. I pulled his legs open and slammed my hips forward. It made him groan and throw back his head; The weakness of it made my crotch fill with heat. I couldn’t help but find any weakness from the bitch horrendously erotic, and I just fucked him harder, fucked him raw. “Come on!” He rasped angrily. Then it was a vendetta. I would make him bleed, an’ he was gonna like it.

Inside of him was finally hot, burning, wet. Yielding and tight, so fucking perfect—I couldn’t hold myself back and I came inside him with a grunt while he writhed underneath me, spilling his own come all over those abs of his. Luckily Kurosaki wouldn’t know a long fuck if it got shoved up his ass by a baseball bat for twenty minutes, or I’d be embarrassed at shooting off so early.

I collapsed on top of him, feeling…unfulfilled. It was a hard feeling, an unsettled lump. I think maybe it was guilt, for fuckin’ ‘im when I knew somethin’ just wasn’t right. I know he’s probably got a thing for violence’n blood, same as me, but it shouldn’t ‘a come up without me pushin’ for it. Kurosaki shouldn’t a been beggin’ me to fuck him bloody.

He nudged me to the side and I slid out of him with a heavy sigh, eyes closed. I heard him moving around on the bed, I figured he wanted to clean up being the prude he was. Then I felt a kiss on the head of my dick and shot up like a rocket.

“Holy fuck, Kuro--” Then he took whole head in his mouth. I let out a strangled groan and fell back. Fuck my protests, red was busting his own mouth cherry with my dick, unsure, searing, virginal licks and sucking. I wasn’t sure if I could wait for the fuckin actual blowjob before coming in his mouth. I held back my hips’n hands. I wanted him to figure out what t’do. If I lost it and fucked his mouth like an animal he’d never give a decent blow job. It seemed like fuckin hours that I had to think of how much I hated Aizen to keep in control, until finally his lips and mouth started sliding down. Every wriggle of his tongue felt like he was stabbing me, and then he began moving up and down. “Faster,” I growled, and he obeyed. I swear I don’t even remember what it felt like, just the goddamn idea of it was getting me off.

I wanted to come all over that face, in his mouth and make ‘im swallow, but I couldn’t. All that holding back, shit, I just needed to fuck him again. I needed the squeezing around my dick his mouth just couldn’t provide. I sat up and shoved him away from my crotch and onto his back. He was surprised, but I didn’t wait to ask or explain it to ‘im, I just pushed aside his legs and then I was in, so gloriously slimy and warm and gripping, and I knew it was me who’d been there, marked my territory, left some of myself inside him. Who doesn’t think that’s fucking hot? It wasn’t as rough—couldn’t be with all that blood and cum and spit as lube, but it was quick and good all the same.

My hair was wet with sweat; I reached to brush some of it out of my eyes. I leaned over him with my hands on either side of his head, starin’ down at him. Kurosaki looked tired, but his eyes didn’t seem so dull anymore. There was fire in there instead of cold. …Between us, too. And a disgust inside myself.

I don’t feel disgust.

Before I left, his arm wrapped around my neck and pulled me down.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Thank you? He was out of his mind. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I dressed and left—this was getting over my head. What was he expectin’ out of me? What in the hell was really goin’ on? This kid. What had I gotten myself into, I thought as I stepped back into Hueco Mundo. Because there was no fuckin goin’ back now.

~AN~
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