Revive Me

No one knows how little I feel. It’s been a long, long time since I really felt alive. When blood is really pumping through me, during a fight, I feel a shadow of it, of feeling, of life. The focus and the desire to win and prove myself, it’s a powerful vestige. The fight is all I have left.


I act like it’s there, the best I can. For Karin and Yuzu, for the few friends I have. Chad especially, I think he knows. There’s a bond there, and I can’t put much more than my loyalty into it, but he knows. And it’s enough for him, thank God. He is a rock. Ishida didn’t see it at first, but he could sting my pride anyway. When you want to be great, pride is there. Renji does the same. It’s like kicking a horse with a spur, and I can lash out. Like instinct it’s a little bit of feeling. They pretend like they don’t do it.


Rukia gave me the strength to protect my family. So for her, I force it. If I have my way, she’ll never know. It makes me happy to keep her happy. When Rukia is sad, hurt, it makes my chest thump in pain and I’ll do anything to stop it.


Then she was gone. Renji was gone. Ishida withdrew. The power, the necessity was gone. I started to break apart like an old doll.


Meeting Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, it was like he doused my soul in gasoline and dropped a goddamn bomb on it. He was a cocky, arrogant, motherfucking bastard. Cruel, crude, confident, and above all powerful. He whipped me. Pounded me into the dirt like a weak child. He was also the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Those eyes were so blue and violent and alive. Had I ever, even back then, felt that alive? This Hollow that in all reality was already dead had more life in his eyes than I had in my whole body. I had to beat him. I had to shut him up, when he belittled me. How dare he.


When I saw him again, he made it clear that somehow, someone like me ignited that same fire inside him. I think he thought that the death in my eyes was a challenge. He held me down, mocked me, but something in his eyes… It took him a moment to realize. He saw I wasn’t fighting back, and then I nearly screamed. Our hands were in our hair, his mouth was hot over mine, his body crushing me. But it didn’t feel like it hurt, it felt like he was sewing my broken parts back onto my body, it was a lifeline. A shadowed alley, a prayer that no one with spirit power would walk past.


My clothes were pushed aside and his chest pressed down against my cold skin. His teeth were sharp and they pricked and made me bleed. I tore at his chest and back. Not really on purpose, but I want so badly to be a part of whatever he is. It only crossed my mind briefly that this was crazy and unlike me, that I was kissing a man, the enemy. It wasn’t important enough to stay there. He’s wild and warm, sucking on my neck, trailing down, and I’ve never felt this way. Important, good. His kisses rain down my heaving chest and pulls down my pants, and before I know it, I’m in his mouth, and holy mother of god, oh god, it’s great. He tries to hold down my hips and for the most part it works, but I’m moaning and arching my body because I’ve never felt this way before.


He’s lewd and licks along the underside of my dick while looking right at me.


“Enjoying yourself whore?” He asks, almost smirking.


“Shut up,” I gasped as his head bobbed back down. I can’t hold back a shuddering moan, and that’s when he pulls away. I groan at him angrily, because I feel like just a little more and I could have come. He growls and tells me,


“Stop being selfish, Kurosaki.” He takes me by the shoulders and turns me over onto the stomach. The ground is rough but I hardly care. It heightens the feeling of everything, and that was the reason I started this madness to begin with. I stretch out my arms and grip at the ground. I’m…I’m excited, and I can’t help it. He presses down on my back, and I shudder as his body covers me. He’s the most passionate person I’ve ever met and his passion seems to pass like a charge through our skin. I choke a little bit as he starts to press against me.


“Shit,” I mutter. “Shit, shit, shit.” He gets past the ring of resistant muscle and it’s uncomfortable to say the least.


“Fuck, I knew you were a tight ass but this is ridiculous…” he growls and pushes in further. I gulp and grab for his wrist tightly. Another shove, but I bite my lip to keep from crying out, but with his last push sound escapes my throat. Oh fuck, it hurts, it hurts! I can hear Grimmjow panting and his nails dig into my hips. My breath is gasping and I keep making noise. It pisses me off but I can’t help it, it still fucking hurts.


He starts pushing in and out, slow but still strong. My eyes are squeezed shut and I try to ignore how weird and uncomfortable it feels to be so full. It’s rough and not going in and out smoothly. I’m making more of those stupid little squeaks of sound and it’s making the bastard chuckle. As if he’s ever been if this position, he can’t know what it’s like, the son of a bitch.


The hurt in my chest that seems like it’s always, always been there is starting to... it’s starting to feel better, to actually feel good. He pushes harder, oh lord, what’s going on? I’m still holding his wrist. I draw it underneath me to my chest while I choke for breath because I can’t believe this. Grimmjow doesn’t sound like he’s smirking at me anymore, he sounds heavy and desperate and he’s thrusting faster now. It feels so, so good. I can’t even describe the feeling that’s growing in me. Damn it.


I’m panting and trying to hold myself against his thrusts with my forearms and my cheeks are flushed and hot. He’s hitting something inside me that’s making me moan, making it hard to support myself.


This must be why Grimmjow feels so alive. I feel needles tingling in my heart and I think that this is it, this is life again, this is caring, and this, he, is the one making that way. Blue, wild, his arm is strong and I fall onto it again. I’m desperate for something, for him and all that’s in that crazy, fucked up mind of his, because there must be something merciful in him to give this to me. I want to reach for that something and I feel like screaming, so I take his fingers into my mouth and suck on them needily.


“Fuuuck…” I hear Grimmjow groan and he starts slamming into me even harder. His fingers move, exploring my mouth but I keep licking and sucking on them because for some reason it makes me feel better, makes me feel like I have more control. And now, all of a sudden, I want the control, I want to be a part of things. Light is spreading through me like a bullet.


He pushes me down onto the ground, but allows me to keep his fingers. I think it’s getting him off, and it’s getting me off too. I can’t believe what I’m thinking. His other hands spreads out near my head and he lifts himself up and starts fucking me in earnest. I shout because I didn’t think it could get any harder, I didn’t think I could feel any more than the pleasure I already had. I’m close and from the sounds he’s making so is he.


“Fuck you’re good, fuck, fuck,” he pants while thrusting. I’d never tell the bastard that it makes me feel good to hear. That’s when my toes curl and my muscles tense, and for a moment take my mouth away.


“H…Harder Grimmjow,” I tell him, my voice steely and deep, more confident than I really am. He takes his other hand and now grabs my hips and now the slamming hurts again, but it hurts in such a good way that I cry out with every thrust.


“Sonuvabitch! Ah! Ah,” I curl my fingers and writhe, trying to grip at the ground for something to keep me solid, together. I feel alive. My chest doesn’t hurt anymore. And beyond the pleasure I feel a sunburst of happiness. I don’t know why it’s him. He must have enough life, enough hatred and passion for the both of us and god I love him for it. Happy. It feels good to be alive.


My vision is starting to swim and even though I remember vaguely what’s going on, it’s getting harder to remember, harder to discern.


“Grimmjow?” I wonder aloud and then I gasp and keen in something utterly joyous. I cry out twice more, shuddering, before I hear a growled response and a surge of heat inside me. Something in my brain seems to pop. What is this? Am I alive? My head is swimming…



I still feel good, almost like I have a warm, goofy smile on my face. I sure as hell hope not. My head has this…contentment. I don’t really feel contentment often, but I’m drained, and I feel happy, and I’m in someone’s arms. I still can’t really see, but It can’t be Grimmjow. I know that isn’t his style and that he probably doesn’t give a damn about me outside of fighting or pleasure. That was what we’d done. …I don’t regret it, because I still feel alive. I murmur, I want to say something about living. I want to yell it.


Someone tells me to shut up. I say “mmm” and curl up. I’m happy. I don’t want to argue with anyone.


When I wake up for real, I sit up with a gasp. I’m in my bed. I’m even back in my body. The soreness in it tells me everything couldn’t have been a dream or an illusion. There’s abrasions on my forearms, scratches and bruises on my hips. …I wonder if it will ever happen again. I wonder if this light in my soul will stay. It makes me breathe deeper, easier, and I’m more aware of my surroundings than ever before. It’s amazing irony that it’s because of the arrogant Espada.


There’s a brief ache when I think it won’t happen again, but I should know better. Then I feel a twinge on my collarbone and frown. I reach up to touch it—it’s a scab, but it’s shaped strangely. I get up carefully, ignoring my muscles’ protests, and go to the mirror. It’s a deeply and ornately cut number six.


I laugh, hard. Fucking possessive bastard. He’ll be back.