Angry at the World

A whole week without Grimmjow, not a peep from Shirosaki, only a few Hollows, and now a chance to watch the dancers for a third time. Ichigo was pretty sure that made this a very good, very unusual week. Ishida sat beside him, satisfied after seeing Danna perform in a new costume of his creation. Again Ichigo watched the smaller dancer with intensity. He wondered if his facial expressions were on purpose, and if they were, how did he think about them when he was busy dancing? Where had he found his dance partner? Ishida leaned close to him while keeping his eyes forward on the stage, and his voice level.

“I could help you meet them,” he offered as if the idea had no significance. But Ichigo knew what was being left unspoken; “I’ve seen you watching them, I think I know, and I won’t tell.” It made him feel nervous anyway. His mouth felt paper dry.

“…If it’s not a big deal, sure,” he replied. Ishida nodded and leaned back into his seat. He should have remembered how perceptive he was, he thought with an inward sigh. Even focused on his new muse, it seemed trying to keep a secret from the Quincy was a useless endeavor. Now though, instead of focusing on the dance, he was shifting his position, thinking about what he would even say. Did Uryuu know more than he did? He was just—had he thought this was a good week? God damn it.

Time did one of his least favorite things, and seemed to fast forward in a blur and give him no room to think. He was waiting outside a dressing room, sans bespectacled best friend, and waiting for what? He wasn’t sure what he expected out of the encounter. The door opened a smidge, and curious eyes peeked out before it opened all the way. The smaller, defined dancer that he had watched so intently stood in front of him, smiling. He was really only half a head shorter than and almost as defined as Ichigo himself.

“Hello! Are you Kurosaki Ichigo? Ishida-kun said that you were interested in meeting me,” he said with a grin. “I’m glad he was able to lure more patrons into the club.”

“Ah, yeah…” Ichigo scratched his head a little shyly. “I’d just seen you dance a few times. You are…”

“Suzuki Keitaro, sorry,” he grabbed Ichigo’s hand and shook it vigorously. “So you like the dance! Not many guys are fans,” he said with a grin. His eyes glinted with mischief almost all of the time, it seemed. “But that’s why we do it. Akeno-kun, my partner, wasn’t comfortable with it at first either, but now he sees the art in it,” he rambled.

“That’s ah, why I was interested. I’d never cared about ballet’n stuff, still don’t really,” he said, grinning shyly, “but your dance is really interesting.” Suzuki looked him up and down and seemed to make up his mind about something.

“I need to smoke, want to keep talking out back?” Ichigo nodded. He followed him to a back door to an alleyway, where the petite man lit up. He looked at least a few years older than Ichigo; probably out of high school, he thought. The silence gave him time to think about how awkward he must seem, hands shoved in his pockets and an almost constant scowl. He hoped Suzuki would talk soon, so that he could stop being insecure. Being insecure was making him feel more insecure, because he didn’t get nervous. God damn it again. “I didn’t figure you for a smoker,” he said finally. “So I didn’t offer.”

“Nope…Don’t smoke,” he didn’t have anything else to add. It made him feel dumb.

“Thought you looked too fit for it… I’ll quit someday soon, I tell myself,” he grinned and turned toward Ichigo, who leaned back against the alley wall.

“Everybody’s got a poison, yours is just more obvious, I figure,” he replied awkwardly. Suzuki walked closer to him, looking intent.

“I can’t believe someone like you would be afraid of someone like me,” he said softly. Ichigo jolted into standing up straight.

“I’m not afraid of you!” He said with a scowl.

“Sorry,” he replied. He smiled a bit in apology, and then stamped out his cigarette. “I didn’t really mean it that way.” Ichigo felt his heart constrict a bit; something was happening, something that made him nervous. “You looked me in the eyes when I danced,” the blonde stated. The redhead he was just a little too close to let out a laugh.

“Yeah… I wondered if I was just crazy, thinking I’d caught your eyes when I hadn’t. Sorry, it must have seemed weird,” he said, trying to smile. But it was still more a smirk, per his style.

“No… Not with someone like you,” he said. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He scowled, looking at the ground while he thought about it. Was it an insult? A hand on his cheek directed him to look somewhere else, and full lips pressed against his in a kiss. What? Grimmjow.

It caught him by surprise, the kiss and the image, and he stumbled back against the wall, eyes wide. Suzuki took a step back, looking concerned, and his hand hovered where it had been at the redhead’s cheek.

“You…You’re not gay?”He asked quietly.

“I…I’m…” Ichigo sputtered. He wasn’t gay; what Grimmjow did wasn’t his fault. He just liked watching the dance, not the lines of muscle on the man in front of him, not his hair or eyes or smile. He was definitely not gay. That smile came to life now, and after a pause Suzuki pressed forward to kiss him again. His lips were so soft. Did a woman’s lips feel like this? Did it even matter? His hands reached up to tangle themselves in the dancer’s hair, and he parted his lips to kiss him back.

Suzuki placed his hands on Ichigo’s chest, bracing himself, and Ichigo felt a thrill shoot through his body. Someone touching, wanting him. Tongue slipped in past his lips to play against his, startling him. Suzuki’s hand stroked his chest to calm him as his tongue explored his mouth. It was so strange, so much more… erotic than anything he’d ever felt. It couldn’t hurt to try. He pressed back with his tongue and took control of the kiss. He wanted him too. He would control the encounter, he was stronger, and it was just the right thing to do. Suzuki didn’t mind.

He melted against the Shinigami’s body, sliding his hands around to the small of his back, occasionally letting them wander upwards to feel his partner’s strong shoulders. Ichigo felt that thrill again when he pressed up against him. It drove him further. He deepened the kiss and pressed Suzuki against the wall, and allowed himself a brief press of hips to hips.

That gave him more than a thrill; it inspired a deep ache inside him, and made him think about what he was doing. He pulled away from their kissing, breathing heavily. The only sounds were that of the faint nightlife, their heavy breathing, and the rustle of their clothes again each other. He looked down at the heaving form that he pressed so tightly against the wall, his ruddy cheeks and lidded eyes. Because of him.

“Don’t stop now,” he whispered. “Please?” He looked up at Ichigo, whose brown eyes were now determined and confident. He leaned down and kissed him once more, no longer doubting or disallowing himself from rolling his hips against Suzuki’s. It felt so, so good. The friction, rubbing clothing, the hot mouth that he devoured as if his life depended on it. Hands squeezed and rubbed his ass, and it drove him to press harder. He heard a muffled moan through their kissing, and he didn’t know how he held himself back from doing anything more. These feelings were driving him mad because he wanted so much more. “Ichigo, Ichigo,” he pleaded, grasping at his shirt. He thrust forward against Ichigo now, and he could feel how hard he was, and he knew Suzuki could tell the same. It was wrong to be so turned on over a man. “Please…”

“I…I can’t,” he said, closing his eyes. “I can’t just…have sex with you in a back alley…” Thank god part of his mind was still functioning. He would never been able to live something like that down.

“Don’t worry,” Suzuki whispered. His hands settled on the front of Ichigo’s jeans and undid the zipper. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

“What?” He asked, and opened his eyes. Before he had time to ask Suzuki what he was doing, he had knelt down, pulled down his pants and boxers, and taken him in his mouth. Ichigo gasped and barely managed to contain himself. His fingers scrabbled at the brick behind him and he was gasping at the wet, grasping heat that had surrounded his length. “Oh shit, oh shit…”

Suzuki slowly withdrew his mouth from around Ichigo’s member, and then began delicately licking along its length, stopping occasionally to pay special attention to his slit, darting his tongue in and around it. Ichigo moaned; he could no longer control his reactions. His hands reached into his hair once more, pushing him closer to his penis, encouraging him to take it entirely again. He got the hint, and kissed the head before taking it in his mouth, deep into the back of his throat. Ichigo let out another breathy moan, thrusting shallowly into Suzuki’s mouth, in agony over feeling so good; being so close to feeling perfect.

His head bobbed, sucking intensely, so sweetly, at Ichigo until he thought he might die. He could feel every curve of his mouth, his cheeks, his tongue, and the pure heat of his throat. He made helpless little sounds with every wrap of Suzuki’s treacherous tongue, completely unthinking now. His hands tightened around Suzuki’s hair and he gasped, thrusting one more time as he came. It was so forceful, such an essential tidal wave of relief. He groaned as he watched Suzuki swallow every stream and lick the drops at the corner of his lips. Then he pulled away and smiled up at Ichigo. He was breathing heavily, and after pulling up his boxers and pants, slid down the wall to sit on the ground. How the hell was he going to explain to Ishida how he was gone so long? …He knew he should worry about it. But he felt so damn peaceful. He sighed as Suzuki murmured something and kissed his forehead. He said something about leaving, and he just nodded. He was tired and was going to smell like sex anyway; he might as well enjoy the afterglow for awhile.

~

Thank god Ishida had the good sense to blanch once, stutter, and shut the fuck up. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. It hadn’t been entirely obvious, no incriminating liquids or sex hair, but the heavy musk surrounding him and the damp forehead were enough to imply something. For irritatingly perceptive people.

Goddammit. What had he been thinking? He walked into his home, locked the door behind him, and leaned against it. Fascination, then attraction, then... He was one of those jerks that forgot all common sense when he was about to get laid, then. But he had managed to stop that. He was quite sure Suzuki had been ready to ride between him and a wall for a good long while. He was blushing just thinking about it. He rubbed his face vigorously and ran a hand through his hair, sighing with exasperation, before trudging up to his room.

He closed his door behind him before turning and being met with a fist to the stomach.

“Ichigo!”

“…Rukia…” He clutched his stomach. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” His indignant house guest put her hands on her hips.

“Me? You are the one who has been missing all night. I’ve been worried sick!” He straightened and pointed at her accusingly.

“I do not need a babysitter, and you do not get to know where I am at all times!” Rukia calmly took his hand and bit his finger.

“AHHHHH!” He yanked it away and waved it in the air. “That fucking hurt!”

“You officially lose your right to make decisions for the next week,” she said haughtily, and made her way towards her makeshift bed in the closet. He grabbed her head.

“Braaat…” He said menacingly as she tried to thrash out of his grip.

“Don’t make me get Nii-sama to do it!” she yelled. Ichigo’s hand released, and she was gone and in her closet bed. He glared.

"That was a low blow!"

“Go to bed!” She yelled through the door. He hauled himself to his mattress, feigning grumpiness and irritability. But really, he couldn’t be happier to see that she was back.



~AN~

Nom. Try not to freak out. Plot is coming up soon, and your assumedly favorite arrancar as well.

In response to a specific review, AnnE: Everyone else should know as well, I don't condone rape in any way. Nor did I mean to imply that any sort of relationship between Grimmjow and Ichigo would be anything other than codependent, harmful and twisted. Their unbalanced natures and mutual attraction is what led me to write the pairing in the first place.

Also, feel free to skip the Author's Notes! They are in no way integral to the story. I just like to tell everyone a bit what was going through my mind, so that I don't seem like a distant, robotic yaoi-writing machine. I'm not going to stop writing them, as they are just useless bits at the end of the chapters anyway.

I also hope I can portray the women of Bleach in a more positive light. Let me know if I don't.

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing!