Fulfilling A Need

Title: Fulfilling A Need
Author: Lys
Characters/Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Di Roy
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, spoilers
Status: One-shot, wc: 2,249.

The first time they'd met, Di Roy had told Grimmjow, I'm gonna eat you-- I'm gonna eat your Hollow ass to make me stronger, cause we're Hollows, it's what we do. What we gotta do, if we wanna keep being us, having a will. He hadn't said so in so many words, of course, but that's how it was when you were like Di Roy, like Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. It was a dog-eat-dog kind of world and luckily for both of them, Grimmjow wasn't no dog. It had been some time since then, a year maybe. Time, it didn't really make much of a difference in Hueco Mundo. There were no days to cycle through, no work to go to, no meals to eat on regular schedules. In Di Roy's mind, time was an invention of the living-- it had no meaning to anything that couldn't function an alarm clock.

Still, sure enough some of it had passed. Time, that was. He'd stuck by Grimmjow because he was stronger than Di but never really felt any compulsion to show it. Di thought that, maybe, when you were as strong as Grimmjow was you only needed to show how strong you were to anything that might be a threat. Di Roy didn't have a big head about his brothers and sisters, not like some of the Arrancar (not if you were talking about personality, anyway). Sure, he hated those Shinigami bastards, but Grimmjow. He coulda been something, still might be something even under greasy old Lord Aizen.

So yeah, after a while, that part where they ate one another slowly slipped away into an almost sorta-of friendship, in so far as anything with a chunk of its humanity missing could be friendly. It was mutually beneficial, which wasn't to say that Di Roy was a parasite or anything, clinging to the tall, intimidating, broad-chested Espada. The part where Di Roy recognized that Grimmjow was tall and broad-chested took a while, too, obviously once Aizen had used the hogyouku on the both of them and turned them into something passably humanoid, sealing away some of that Hollow instinct but not restoring any of that stuff that was missing.

Once they were shaped like people again, after all that time.

It hadn't bothered Di Roy at first, coming out when Aizen made him, being all, 'yeah, my name is Di Roy,' getting some number. It hadn't bothered him because he was just ecstatic to have arms again, opposable thumbs, fingers and hands that could grip the hilt of a blade or his own cock when he felt like it. Of course, that was all part of the problem, the way it slowly came back, animalistic sexual needs that were so easily satisfied before (having been converted into, you know, getting pleasure out of taking a big old bite out of something), they were now back in place in a proper form. Maybe it was less than proper, though, the way it was interfering with shit. Just because they weren't strictly human, that didn't mean that the Arrancar didn't have hang-ups and it definitely didn't mean they didn't have some kinds of social guidelines.

Di, he was pretty damn sure these social guidelines rubbed strictly against the idea of his lying in bed and stroking a bone to the thought of Grimmjow's nipple peeking out from beneath the heavily lined fabric of his de rigueur white vest. At what point it had all started, that was pretty damn unclear to Di, but it had to have happened somewhere. He might have been able to ignore it, would have preferred it-- Grimmjow, he didn't wanna mess things up with the guy, not after what happened the last time he was on the man's bad side. It got to the point that every look Di Roy favored Grimmjow with, fleeting though they were, began to hold some sexual meaning, slight at first and building.

Lights off, put out in their sconces. Laying in bed in his huge room in Las Noches where the air felt stale despite the size, cold despite the desert. Di would try to force himself to go the fuck to sleep, convince himself whatever it was he was feeling (lust, lust, it was lust and he knew it) would just go away as he tossed and turned fitfully. Just force yourself to sleep, close your eyes. His dick would still be wide awake under the covers, throbbing and aching until the small Arrancar almost wanted to cry over unspilt milk, in a manner of speaking.

He could have ran out of the room, ghosted through the miles-wide castle until he found some perky little thing to fuck, but that would have been tedious and unfulfilling and, Di Roy having spent way too goddamn many years as a Hollow, he never wanted to feel that kind of dissatisfied satisfaction again.

It all came to a frothy, dangerous head, like a wave of realization crashing down in the desert of Hueco Mundo (ironical on both accounts, this being a barren wasteland and the place where they'd first met, but Di Roy hated irony and it could go curl up and die). Grimmjow'd gotten bored and, being the sort that simply expected others to follow him around like an entourage, strange with the 'all about number one' attitude the guy leaked into the very air around him, had asked but mostly demanded that Di Roy come along with him to go attack some misguided adjuchas or another.

Come along, man, we'll have us a great fucking time.

They'd walked for some time (because again, in a place like that, what was the meaning?) until they'd found what they were looking for and Grimmjow had set forward with a whoop, leaving Di Roy to chase after centimeters above the crystal sands, sandals slapping on empty air as he tried to keep up with Grimmjow's pumping legs and arms without the use of Sonido, because fuck if that wouldn't embarass the hell out of Di. By the time Di had caught up, Grimmjow had already made quick work of dismemberment, sand growing black with shed blood, clumping together. Di stepped over what he recognized only barely as something's arm, coming up behind Grimmjow. Excited reiatsu boiled off of the larger man, coiling around him like smoke coming off of a lake on a cold day.

When Grimmjow turned, wiping some gore from his face with lips spread broad, mouth full of an unnatural number of large teeth and pointed canines, Di Roy took a step back. Let his one uncovered eye take in Grimmjow's front, dark dips of his collarbone, small swell of pectorals and ridges of abs. That pink nipple was back, pointed from excitement and red from the rub of Grimmjow's clothing as he'd torn off toward a good session of separating sinew from bone. A sheen of sweat lit up by moonlight, sliding down the line of his stomach to stain the black band around his waist an even blacker sort of black. The blood rushed behind Di Roy's eyes, behind his ears, into his--

Grimmjow turned around, eyeing Di Roy crookedly through the short space between them in the perpetual dark with reflective eyes.

"You think I can't smell that?"

"Smell what?" Di denied lamely, face falling as he chewed at his thin lower lip with a flat, hard tooth.

Grimmjow grabbed Di Roy by the waist, one arm hooking hard against his thin stomach, rolling in its socket to toss the Arrancar thirty feet away, rolling four times to a stop. He could feel his stomach flip, acid coming up his throat. He was going to fucking heave. He was pissed. Grimmjow was walking up behind him with a smile like a switchblade.

Di would realize soon what the toss was for, moving them both outside of the radius of Grimmjow's previous carnage, not out of care but more out of some ingrained instincts that told everything that wanted to live very long not to piss where it was going to eat.

He was on Di Roy in a flash, a rough shove while Grimmjow still had his hands clawed into the fabric of the other man's hakama, so much force that the fabric slid off of Di, taking the underwear and the black waistband, everything all at once. More that Grimmjow had slid Di out of them. Grimmjow was above him; over him and on top of him, wet teeth brushing against a cold ear, warmed by the fan of breath. This was what got Di, this was what got him in the end, the way he always knew that it would go this way. It'd played out in his mind. Rough treatment, not Di's own clumsy hand moving up and down his cock. Wet, heavy breath against his face as he was pinned to the ground.

There came the hiss of fabric over the strong thighs he'd jacked off to in his imagination as Grimmjow yanked apart the ties on his hakama and pulled them down. The slap of the blood-heavy cock against his pale asscheeks was strangely unwelcome, made Di Roy wanna, you know, pull his own hakama back up and hide somewhere with his stupid hard cock. One of Grimmjow's large hands come down over Di Roy's slim hip, thumb digging into it where the skin was thin and the bones close to the surface, fingers kneading with too much pressure at the softness of Di's ass. There would have to be bruises, ones he wouldn't wanna have to explain in the morning along with the little half-moons from ragged, bitter fingernails.

He felt the thick, hot thing slide up and down the spread of his ass once, twice, as Grimmjow snickered low above him, spreading him apart with his free hand. The touch should have offended Di, the way Grimmjow was almost using him like a toy. Strangely, knowing the size of just what Grimmjow wanted to shove inside him was-- not comforting --but at least appealing to a nervous nature. The heat moved away, replaced by cool, queasy wetness sliding down Di's cleft. Grimmjow had spit on him, but then, what the fuck did he expect? They were Arrancar by description and Hollows by nature; there wasn't any lubrication or sweet nothings where they lived. The spit was almost a grace on Di Roy, ineffectual though it would be. Grimmjow's way of saying, 'you've been good to me, kid.'

Di barely had time to register the insinuation of the head of Grimmjow's cock, slightly broader than the rest of it, against him before Grimmjow pressed in nearly to the short, blue hairs at the base. The action was more of a matter of pulling Di Roy to himself as opposed to pressing forward and, had Di not currently had a throbbing, rigid dick suddenly filling him up he might have protested at the treatment. They were all men here. Grimmjow shouldn't be tossing him around like some fucking blushing bride or whatever.

So he was fucked up in the head for even entertaining this complaint. Everyone else could bite him too.

Fingers dug into the sharp sand which stuck under short nails as Grimmjow sucked in a breath, sliding outward and pulling a rough, high-pitched moan from the other man, the one pinned on his cock like a cat's nail through the gut of a mouse, helpless to do anything but take it. Grinding back in, yanking back out. They fell into a fast, hard rythym, Di Roy sliding forward on the sand, scraping his knees raw every time Grimmjow dipped further in, until Di could feel the press of tight balls barely touching against his own. Grimmjow would just sink those long fingers deeper into Di's slight hips and pull him back again. Grunting, thighs quivering over Di's own. He could feel Grimmjow's slick chest moving up his back, clammy from the sweat and the cool air it was exposed to; warm flesh cut the air off.

"Touch yourself."

A heated voice, softened by a throaty purr.

"Okay." The word came out as a thin whine. Di Roy could scarcely believe it was his own, so far away and embarassing, but it must have been, the way Grimmjow was gnawing out his satisfaction along Di Roy's shoulder, mostly (he assumed) because he couldn't get to the neck from under that heavy mask on the smaller Arrancar's head. Di Roy moved an arm down along his stomach, threading to wrap around the base of his cock. He pulled outward, up and down with a rough hand, tiny pieces of sand cutting where they rolled between fingers and flesh. He came violently and loudly, because he'd been wanting it so much all along anyway and who was around to hear it? The trees? The Hollows? He could kill them all.

Grimmjow came moments later inside of him, quivering, slumping heavily against Di's back until his arms could barely hold their combined weight, post-coital as they were. The both of them would have to get dressed soon, though; get moving quickly. There was no telling what had smelled them. No telling how they would wake up if either one of them fell asleep. Besides, Di Roy had a feeling Grimmjow wouldn't wanna get too comfortable. It might be like they gave a shit beyond self-satisfaction and keeping themselves individually alive. They'd do it again, though. He had a feeling they would, with the way Grimmjow was still lingering against him.

That was how it would work, anymore. A sort of, I've got your back, Grimmjow.

And fuck if you ain't got mine.