Grind

Disclaimer: I own nada and make nada. Bleach belongs to Tite Kudo and crew.

Author's Rant: Fair warning most of the dialogue is slang, and the drama's unpredictable. A'ight? A'ight.

Inspiration: Dirty by Racey.

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Prologue 1: That Night

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It was a time to celebrate and time to shine, the night was young and so were the folks frequenting in and out the rubbery double doors centered in the midst of a well-known area. Outside the reddish slide and fro where the line wrapped itself like a viper around the worn down brick structure, there were two folks, ready to set the night a blaze and live it off for good.

The music was bumping through the paper thin sheetrock, rattling a T.I's latest bass loud enough to crack the ground. An earthquake could've snuck up on any of them and no mutherfucker would've been able to tell the difference. Heads were bobbing to the beat, hips swaying from side to side, feeling the drugging notes shake some rhythm in their asses and designer clothes were draped in every shape and form. Cigarette smoke floated with a vengeance in the atmosphere, fogging the space just above shoulder blades, refusing to let the air currents forced from bumping hummers and slick style rides, carry it off to disappear.

If you wanted to speak you best, grab your balls and talk loud, because based on the drumming lyrics slamming from one end of the parking lot to the front doors, chances were you weren't going to be heard. Over a good hundred conversations were tabulating obnoxiously about everything from somebody's baby troubles to work related issues, drug drama mayhem, needing some special treatment from a friend you knew who handled special treatments.

"Shit, things poppin' off ta'night," Yelled the voice of a hyped up teen from the front line. "Gonna be deaf by mornin' man."

A laugh echoed rough against his auburn ragged spikes and a slap on his shoulder added to the humor, "What's da matta Apricot? Can't hang?"

"Whatever bro, I got this." Ichigo chuckled hard, having to yell twice as loud over the bass of a bypassing 2010 Tahoe. Using his finger tips to tease the high rise of his red and black squared polo collar, Ichigo turned his head over his shoulder for the third time that evening looking for the third partner in crime, running late for their little get together. "Damn she always runnin' late."

Renji adjusted his sunglasses over his brow, sniffing the air filled with the arousing smell of soured liqour, rain stained trash littered in nearby alleyways and spent dope, dosed all around as he swirled both his sexy pecan eyes over his shoulder as well, seeing the same line of folks increase by at least a hundred more civilians. In a pair of sky blue and white slacks with white stripped polo, a pair of high top Forces and natural red hair tied high on his head, Renji was prepared for any round of honeys ready to spend a night in his draws.

But first he couldn't take care of nada until their third musketeer brought her crazy ass on. "Da' fuck she at? Swear she always runnin' late and I ain't whoopin' nobody ass for her again."

"Who, ya tellin'?" Snorted Ichigo. "Ya know how she work. All she gonna do is skip when we get there."

Renji gave him a look. "Tsk you shittin' me. She betta wait like everybody else."

"Watch, I bet cha she pull some cheap shit like that," Ichigo stuffed both his hands inside the pockets of his low rider blue jeans, shuffling his low top forces on the grimy pavement. He'd dressed especially well for this night and he'd be fucked if his best friend got him late for this important day out.

Still he couldn't help tossing another spy over his shoulder just to be sure he hadn't missed her.

"Yo, keep it movin," Renji nudged his shoulder on the young buck's back to get his mind back on the line getting closer to the front door.

"My bad dude, I'm tryin' ta catch her ass before we get in."

"Fuck it; she don't get in, s' own damn fault," Renji gave another glance behind his glasses before tucking them back in place over his eyes. "We said 'ta be here at 8—"

"Which mean be here at 7 'cause 'da line always long on a Friday," Ichigo chuckled after finishing off the predictable line. "I know, I know."

"Exactly," Renji grunted. "S' why you sweatin' it?"

"This a special day man. She outta know not 'ta be late on a night like this." The spike haired youngster reminded.

"Pfft I ain't worried," Renji chewed his bottom lip as something caught his attention walking pass in a pair of dark blue jeans, looking firm enough to hit a glass of milk on. "I know one thing, whether she get here or not, I'ma get mines." The glasses were plopped back in place. "Ya jus' betta get yours."

The line of pumped up bumpers inched closer to the entrance, little by little in every five minute interval it took to check for proper ID and for metal detectors to ensure some degree of safety. In Ichigo's opinion, the shit was pretty much pointless, when bitches and road dogs could still sneak in a pocket knife, switch blade, or razor in their bars, under their tongues or any other place the metal radar could never notice.

About twenty minutes later, both him and Renji were the next to second pair in line ready for the three sets of bouncers outside the double door swing set to give them a once over and to pay their fees for getting in.

"Yo Ichi', Ji!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, inclining his head behind him at the young girl who'd called his name. A small smile inked away his irritation as he saw what she was wearing and the way she had her hair underneath a fitted red cap. The dark haired girl was a sassy thing, wearing nothing but a basic yellow spaghetti tank and some tight hip huggers, hanging loosely off her six o'clock hips. The jet black hair she normally kept around her shoulders was set in several thick French braids on her scalp and the rest left to curl in a waterfall set.

"Don't yo us," Renji grunted as he shoved his shoulder in the girl as she came to stand next to him. "Been waitin' for your ass all day. Don't waltz up here expectin' 'ta get in after we did all 'da work."

The girl who arrived name's was Rukia, a rough neck chick who'd run the streets just as hard as both her friends and wasn't scared of running her mouth off at the slightest chance she thought someone was catching an attitude. Prime example, being someone like Renji.

"Tsk please," The girl sucked her teeth, crossing her arms. "All ya did was stand in line. Ain't like I never did it for ya'll at McDonald's."

"That ain't the same lil girl," Ichigo grouched. "You lucky we lettin' ya skip. I outta snitch on yo' ass."

Rukia chuckled as she danced herself in front of the two, ignoring the glares she knew were burning a hole in her back from the other folks who'd been in line just as long as her friends. "You won't do squat. Ya owe me anyway. I gotcha' in at the joint by Rivera last week. "

"I'll tell Sgt you smoked the evidence last week."

She wasn't fazed a bit, "I'll tell 'em you screwed his son behind the house too."

"Ohhh that's messed up." Ichigo shook his head. "I ain't fuckin' with you ta'day."

"Damn, she got ya there man," Renji shook his head. "That ain't cool Ru."

"Whatever," Rukia laughed walking up next in the line, holding her arms horizontal for the large sized bouncer boys to wave the machine outside her body.

"ID," The dark haired guard growled or grumbled depending on how the person took it.

Rukia reached inside her bra for the square shaped card, flashing her picture. The bouncer took a look and jerked his head for her to head inside. Seemed easy enough for her to get in, except when it came to the boys, they had to get a full blown lecture, interrogation and pay a twenty dollar fee just to get inside. Fuck those nights when the girls got in free after ten; that was just bull shit.

But neither Ichigo nor Renji were letting that ruin their night. They planned on living it nice and sweet before giving their lives away for keeps to the men in blue. A celebration was in order for the day they'd be graduating from the life of hoodlums, thugging it out just to survive and into the betraying lives behind the white and navy marked vehicles.

So that's why this night was established; to spend their last time as uncivilized bad asses.

Just as they walked through the entry, every shred of sense was tossed out the window at the outrageous scenery spread like butter to toast. The hot stench of bud lite embittered their noses, dope residue guzzled the entire club's air above their heads and several kinds of illegal beverages, tackled Ichigo's and Renji nostrils with a vengeance. Neon pinks, lime green and scarlet red, mixed with blues and other rainbow accessories, flattered everybody's bodies with crazy pattern's shapes and whatnots.

The lights circled and shattered every which a way, flashing the large spaced place like an old school movie flick. The music was bumping like no body's business and the feel of wanting to rip the carpet couldn't have been more wanting then it was now.

"Now this what I'm talkin' about," Rukia inhaled all the drug related influence in her lungs, feeling like she was right at home as she twisted her fitted from one side to the other to cover her right eye.

Unfortunately when she got that whiff a bystander had staggered by smoking a freshly wrapped sleeve filled with Kush. The polluted guts heaved forward through her lips as she coughed and gaged into her small fist, pounding on her chest to get the herbal fog out. "Fuck," She wheezed beating her bosom hard. "Somebody gonna get jacked up ta'night."

Ichigo cackled, slapping his hand against her back. "That's why we never passed it to ya. Too much of a pussy ta hang."

"What—whatever." Rukia fixed herself back up, shimming her shoulders to shake off the immature effects and set her poise in back in place. She waved off Ichigo's supposed assistance, cocking a narrow glare in his face. "Smokin' ain't my thing anyway," She hollered over the music. "I drink."

"Nah that's my thing, and ya still can't deal with that either," Renji rebutted just as loud, lifting his sunglasses on the top of his head. "Can't drink, can't smoke? That's just terrible."

"Shut up," Rukia shot back. "You wearin' sunglasses in the got'damn dark. Don't be tellin' me how to handle myself."

"Hey s' my style." Renji waved his hand up and down his body, to emphasize his flashy exterior. "Don't fuss at me cause you buggin' over yo' own flaws."

"And here we go," Ichigo muttered under his breathe when the retorts continued back and forth between the two. His gaze switched from one person to the other for the expected counters, he knew would follow after someone mouthed off an insult. These arguments never got old and by the end of it they'd give dap and move on with their lives.

Same ole shit as always.

"Yo Number One, what's up baby!"

Ichigo angled his head to the side at a fellow he knew for a minute, and smiled, cocking his head back to greet the man with chopped top bob of jet black hair combed off his face and his arm wrapped loose around the shoulders of a taller man, with a longer set of auburn brown locks length and just as bright colored eyes. The old friend was wearing a thick chest sleeve-less black shirt with Levi jeans barely clinging to his hips. The other fellow was sporting a nice style, low collared solid blue polo and black stained jeans both with matching flip flops.

"Sup Playa," Ichigo said, pounding fists with Mizuiro.

Mizuiro bucked his head to Renji and Rukia, before turning to the orange haired young buck. "What ya'll doin' in 'da Neon? I thought ya joined the Po Po?"

"We did man," Renji pushed Rukia out of the way to smack hands with Mizuiro and his current date. "Just tryin' to live it up a lil' before turnin' colors."

Rukia roughly knocked Renji to the side to give their old classmate a shake. "Been good while it lasted, folks just gotta move on ya know?"

"Yeah I feel ya," Mizuiro shrugged, waving his fingers from side to side. "I'm tryna bust some sense in my brother and sister to finish up high school, but they tryin' 'ta live like me. S' crazy man."

"How ya sister doin' anyway?" Rukia's eyes glittered with mischief. "She still got that body?"

The player boy narrowed his humor to a minimum, "S' off limits Ru. Girl tryna get an education. Don't make me fuck ya up tonight."

"I ain't worried."

"Ignore her man," Ichigo one of Rukia's curly twists, knowing the shit was still tight from early and ignore her yelp of pain. "She been ignorant all her days." She popped his back in return, sucking her teeth.

"No shit," Mizuiro looked down at his sexy piece, who's large sable eyes were down up at him expectantly waiting for them to move on to the next scene. "A'ight ya'll I'ma jet. Babe gettin' bored," He tossed them a two finger salute, turning on his heel to merge back in with the rest of the shoulder thick crowd. "If I see any of ya'll in 'da street, keep it rollin'. I ain't pullin' over for shit!"

Renji roared over laughing his ass off at hearing that yelled back. "Jus' for that I'ma make sure yo ass get busted!"

"We'll see, peace!" The fellow threw up a deuce and disappeared with the rest of the pricey merchanise. Ichigo shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he gazed around at the scene, feeling the pulse of excitement burn in his veins. It was going to be a swinging thing tonight. Already he could feel his feet tapping, and his head bucking with the flow. Renji was standing by his side, glancing around at every dime in the bunch, looking for a quarter piece that he could use for the evening. Rukia was still trying to master being cool and collected, acting like the buzz of the scene wasn't making her thrilled to be out.

"'Da DJ scratchin' some good stuff," She called over, just as another rolling song came on. The rumors about this club being the best in town since opening a couple of mouths back, weren't as exaggerated as the trio had assumed, especially when the crews kept commenting on the DJ's mixing skills. Every few minutes a new remix was tearing the speakers in half and announcements were ringing loud, giving shout outs to whoever were deemed worthy for the momentary celebrity status.

Renji leaned back, cracking his knuckles. "A'ight ya'll since shit tight at HQ, Sgt said we can't smoke, drink or shit." He shrugged. "But I'm gettin' fucked anyway. I'll check ya'll at sun rise." With that unnecessary speech given, Renji slapped his chest and wormed himself into the rounds of shaking bodies, until not even the glare of his sunglasses could be seen.

Rukia and Ichigo looked at each other, than they too ventured off into the mold together to find a table, since neither of them was feeling like dancing this early. They'd get a couple of drinks, chill for a little bit, and let the buzz marinate before finding a couple of sweet treats to loop an arm around later.

An available round table was found near the back wall behind a couple of plastic style orange and green glittered booths. Somebody must've been trying to save those tables for later because the couple found some half-drunk glasses with tiki straws and umbrellas dangling off the edge. The water down cokes were swiped off the table by Rukia's arm and she pulled back a chair, flopping her happy ass right there and kicking her feet on the surface to show her high top pink and yellow Skechers.

Ichigo eyed her faked fly shoes with a curious eyebrow lift. "Skechers? For real?"

Rukia had one sugar blue eye glare from under her hat, "Problem?" She wiggled her shoes from side to side. "They cute."

"Whatever, do you," He wasn't about to get into an argument with her tonight. Once she started, there was no telling when she'd shut up. It was best to leave it be regardless of how lame it looked.

"Check it," Rukia suddenly giggled, pointing her finger behind Ichigo's head. "Ji' already found himself a lay ta'night. Sweet one too."

"Lemme see," Damn Renji worked fast. They'd barely been in the joint ten minutes and he already found himself a target for the evening. Ichigo chuckled, rolling his head over his shoulder where Rukia's trigger finger aimed; low and behold, yes indeed. "Shit."

The young teen whistled his appreciation at the sight that could literally be described as tall, dark and fine as all get out. The sexy piece Renji was hugged up with in a corner from the bar was a long pale haired man with deep colored eyes and a smile hot enough to melt glass. The way his hair heavily flooded down his back with little slithers draping his shoulder, gave him that mysterious appeal and his skin was as pale as the smoke fog. The more Ichigo spied over the handsome man dressed in a button up shirt and pressed pants, the more Ichigo could understand why Renji was fascinated. The guy looked like a sore thumb in the midst of this bunch of fools and he'd didn't look older than twenty.

And if you could add any extra loads of fine to him, he was tall as a scraper with legs for miles.

Rukia sighed, nodding her approval. "Renji found himself that quarter," She chuckled.

"Nope that's a dolla'," Ichigo corrected. "Ain't nobody else up in here that fine. Dude got luc-ky."

"Aww is lil Ichi feelin' left out?"

"Hell nah," Ichigo righted himself back in his chair, cupping his elbow over the back. "I'll find myself somethin' in a minute. I just don't feel like it."

"Hmm Mmm," Rukia tsked her teeth, gazing around the threshold for her own set of legs, breasts and ass to hang with tonight. She spotted a few pickings from the left side of the wall toward where the DJ's jutted station plucked itself from the wall in an around based table encased in a half glassed pod. Funny thing is, while she was glaring around at the garden of voluptuous figures and crotches grinding high against their ass cheeks, it made her smile and reminisce about days she thought forgotten. "Damn, can't believe we doin' this thing."

"Huh?" Ichigo twisted around from a stacked crew of young bucks, not particularly his taste and gave his half minded attention to his friend. "Ya say somethin'?"

"Nah, jus' bein' silly," she waved him off. "Ya remember when we snuck around Mista' Jimmy's back yard to watch his kids strip?"

"Nope," Ichigo relinquished the rest of his mind on full gear. "Can't say I do. 'Ta busy bein' lookout. You an' Renji had all the fun."

"Don't be that way. Ya know me an' Ji had 'da pictures for ya to check out. He told me you wacked off 'ta Mista's son's for a week."

Ichigo shivered like lightning just massaged his nerve endings as he recalled those glorified days of peeking in on the privileged kids of his mom's friend a few blocks down from his neighborhood. They'd been the sexiest twins known to mankind. He usually wasn't in for snobs but damn if he wouldn't have fucked that boy into the ground. If it weren't for that wired screen and the fact Mr. J always carried his buckshot like a kitty, Ichigo would've taken the boy's virginity.

"His sister was sweet."

"What?" Ichigo snapped his eyes to Rukia, shocked. "You did his sister?"

"Yep, twice," She held up two fingers as if it'd prove her true. "Behind your house an' mine. My Moms was pissed when she found ole girl was from around the block type."

"Ohhhh," The young buck's eyes squinted shut at the mention of such a dreadful event. "Fuck, what did cha do to her?" He prayed this psychotic trick didn't play that girl like she did her last girlfriend. That bitch was something serious.

"Nothing," Amen.

One of the skechers flopped over the other as she twirled a curly lock between her index and thumb. "After I found out she was into boys I belled but she kept burnin' my phone for weeks, wanting me to settle down. Pfft," She snorted at the idea. "Gotta live a lil' first. She was too clingy. It pissesd me off."

"Everything pisses you off," Ichigo smoothly reminded. He would've smacked his own mouth when he realized what he'd just said. By now he should've learned that Rukia had a say for everything and he'd just opened up his can of worms by saying something that could easily lead to a back and forth debate. Fuck him in the ass and no pun intended.

Thankfully right as she was about to lay it on him heavy, an adjustment to one of the mikes blared over the ceiling speakers several feet off by one of the exits closest to them, signaling the DJ was about to change discs or about to make an announcement. Whatever lights were used to light the place up like a Fourth of July were becoming singled and focused on the DJ while a leveled amount of music kept blasting just below deafening. The couple could faintly see a bobbing head of sea form, bucking to the beat with a hand raised slight over their shoulder and swaying from side to side to the scary joint by Nicki Minaj and Eminem remixed called Roman's Revenge , with a pinch of Drake.

As soon as Nikki's voice started bouncing from the speakers, Drake's music started bouncing the walls and the floors thumped, shaking like a rubber band. Ichigo couldn't tell if the floor was made of cheap rubber or if people were just growing an inch or two every few seconds.

I am not Jasmine, I'm Aladdin

So far ahead, these bums is laggin'

See me in that new thing, bums is gaggin'

I'm startin' to feel like a dungeon dragon

Raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon

I'm startin' to feel like a dungeon dragon

Look at my show footage, how these girls be spazzin'

So fuck I look like gettin' back to a has-been?

Yeah, I said it, has-been

Hang it up, flatscreen

(Haha) Plasma

Hey Nicki, hey Nicki, asthma.

"Raah, raah, like a dungeon dragon!" The Dj called over the mic, bucking from left and right. "Let these motherfuckers raise dey hands up!"

Ichigo's eyes bugged wide when he recognized the song and wasn't shocked in the least when he heard Rukia howl loud. "Hot damn, I love this song!" She was quick to jump on top of the table, waving her left hand over her head and the other holding her bare belly, swaying from side to side singing at the top of her lungs. ichigo was grateful for his god given reflexes otherwise he would've lost a couple of his digits. Her feet were carving major dents in this already raggady ass wood. It hadn't more than three seconds since she topped the table and already she had a circle of people, mostly fan girls, whooping her on and stepping to the melody.

Rukia humped her back with every dragon lyric and stood tall, singing her favorite part from Eminem. "The wo-world is my punchin' bag and If I'm garbage, you're a bunch of maggots. Make that face, go on, scrunch it up at me. Show me the target so I can lunge and attack it!" She sung loud and off tune as hell, but the audience didn't seem to give a shit so she demonstrated each word with a crook of her fingers and bucked out like she was ready to kick ass.

Ichigo's eyes snaked to a couple of chicks he saw reaching inside their purses and on impulse lowered his hand to his waist, not sure if shit was going to pop off out from jealousy but relaxed when he saw white instead of gunmetal. Some crumbled and straight written phone digits were being flicked at Rukia's feet as she held her hands out to every cat calling girl wanting to monopolize her attention from the rest and she took it all in with stride.

"Lemme give a shout out ta' 'da fine honey shakin' her ass on the table. Work it baby!" The DJ echoed loud and strong with a voice that for some reason had Rukia stutter stepping. Whether it was the encouragement or whatever high she was getting from the smoke screen around her face, Rukia started letting loose even harder.

Meanwhile, Ichigo checked behind himself to see if Renji had already ditched them for the night and didn't see a sign of his loopy ass where the snow beauty had been. Guess he found himself a tight one, he mused to himself.

After a freebie replay of the song was given just to keep her going on the table, Rukia finally came down, eyes glossed and voice slightly hoarse from yelling and inhaling the celestial air of hot grass. "Damn, whew," She half wheezed and laughed. "Fuckin' hot huh?"

"Nah that's jus' you—Yo!" Ichigo snapped his fingers for one of the passing waiters. "Get 'er a peach and apple mixed."

"Will that be all sir?" The skimpy dressed waitress meek softly near his ear. He nodded and she sashayed her way to the bar to place the order, knowingly swaying her juicy ass cheeks in pair of cut off black shorts.

Rukia's lips smacked and she wiggled in her seat, appreciating the view. Without missing a beat she turned to her side, looping her left arm on the back of her chair and easing back to balance on a one leg. The new angle had her looking in the direction of the DJ booth where she finally took note of the head untamed green hair, dangling and swishing from every which a way with the two large earphones pugged in her ears.

First she saw the breasts and made the mistake of going down lower to the belly button with a piercing and rose vine tattoo circling around her lusty hips. "Shit," She whispered, too soft to even hear herself. When those two large eyelids opened from their momentary daydream, the picture perfect magenta red orbs stared directly at candy blue eyes.

Ichigo's smile grew a mile wide as he exchanged his gaze from one lady to the next. "Ah hell," he chuckled to himself. Here she goes.

"Ichi . . . Ichi," Rukia started tapping his arm unaware that he was already seeing what she saw. "Ichigo—fuck Ichi'!"

"Yeah man what?"

"I-I think," When the DJ winked, Rukia's body sagged with instant delight like melted chocolate on the side of ice cream. "What—oh my damn, my heart, my heart's a poundin', my eyes flutterin' my lips are tastin' the future an'," She turned to Ichigo with the softest smile on her face and a lick of her lips. "I think I found my wife."

That was it. Ichigo had been waiting for it to be said and on cue he burst out laughing, slapping the table hard, rattling their bottles that'd just arrived. "Oh my God—girl ya done. I can't deal wit' yo' ass." The white haired man, snatched his bottle, uncorking the top with his claw. "Can't believe ya said that shit again."

"No-No I'm serious!"

"You said that before about Ryoko, Ayeka, Sasami, Momiji, Kisa, Lolo—"

"Whatever," She suddenly stood, grabbing her bottle of lightweight apple green Smirnoff. "I'ma go tell 'er how I feel."

"Have fun wit' that!" Ichigo hollered before his bottle to touch his lips. His chuckling died to mild snickers as he saw Rukia's wild colored style merge into the crowd and disappear, heading for the DJ booth in the distance.

"Here you are sir, one Patron Silver."

Ichigo nearly spat out his beer, looking at the expensive drink placed before him. A slushing 8 oz glass filled to the top with crystallized tequila and an orange slice perched in the middle. "Slow ya roll, baby." He grabbed the girl's hand before she could walk off. "I ain't order this. S' shit's expensive." This stuff will burn the fuck out of his throat. Sgt would have him running for a year if he got detected with this liquid in his system.

"This is free sir," She kindly pulled her arm free and pointed to the bar. "Courtesy of one of our regular gentlemen over there."

One of their regulars? 'Da fuck would do somethin' like that?' Ichigo wasn't feeling that all too much and followed along the stretch of her manicured finger to see who the hell wanted to treat him like a bitch. He didn't like folks buying him drinks; it gave the wrong impression like he took the bottom or something. . .

His scowl, prepared to ward off the insulter died away on the dirt stained tiles when he saw who had exactly been the jackass to buy him a drink and the beer bottle in his hand tittered over the edge on the floor.

These kind of faces only existed on the covers of those books his mom used to read and in those daddy's magazines. Ain't no way in hell this person was real and staring directly at him.

Son of a sexy—hmph.

Ichigo had never seen so much fine in a single person in his whole life. Baby was banging in every portion of the word. Short, buzz teased baby blue hair shattered like a lightning around his ears, with chopped banes cascading in staggered threads. A sharp, pointed nose, aimed down to a pair of thin lips with the bottom more plumped then its top half and a pointed chin that put 9mms to shame. The face of carved ice was angled, diamond shaped with a thick toned neck without a sign of muscular overkill, spreading to a pair of wide shoulder blades and from his frontal seat, a nicely sculpted chest. The outfit was an expensive put together, sporting a smoke gray Calvin Klein lightweight nylon car coat, shoulder black length V-neck cardigan and tan cream slim, techy dress slacks.

The man eyes were too light to be just blue, almost an ice shade similar to polished water. They glowed and dimmed depending on how the fluoresces hit his face.

Bonafide dime piece, Ichigo secretly declared and nearly cringed with desire when the man pulled out a silver case and withdrew a single, perfectly wrapped stick and had the bartender light it for him.

The blunt was inhaled beautifully and a slide of ultra-blue, curved the carrot top's way when the foggy delish eased from his parted lips and coiled around his head, adding another trait of admirable attraction. The misty exhaust from the burning drug, gave a ridiculous amount of smoke from that single drag so strong, Ichigo swore he could identify its scent amongst the rest of the inexpensive rolls.

Ichigo knew he wanted him. Oh yes from how those lips tilted with that dangerous smirk, like a smile barely there and the cross of those long, thick legs connected to a pair of vanilla suave oxfords, he knew this night he was going to be between those thighs and ramming this man hard.

Or if the dude wanted to dominate, Ichigo was cool with that too. Either way he just wanted to fuck.

The young buck's mind was in the zone. He knew what he wanted and with that mission glued tight to his brain, he kicked back his chair, grabbing the throat burning booze and straightened his shirt. A wide smirk showcased his piano white canines, and with a mini limp he strolled over to the bar, shoving a hand in his pocket, already figuring out which line would work best with a sexy ass beast like this one.

Luckily the stool next to the dark haired slim was vacant, but Ichigo chose a bolder move by squeezing in between the seat and its opposite occupant, barely a foot between them. "So, I guess you mus' like what ya see." Ichigo made the mistake of taking a long swig of the newfound moonshine, and just as it hit his throat, he started feeling the effects immediately. His mind started working out the best way to come out of this without looking like a pussy, but oh damn his stomach was set on fucking fire.

After getting that little mouthful down, he shook his head, and decided a seat would be more appropriate. "Whew, damn," he chuckled, resisting the urge to gag. "Shit, that's—that's s' good stuff."

The fine eyed specimen took his time, sipping a long drag of the forbidden hash and rolled the boiling essence on his tongue before exhaling it with the liquid flow of a misty river.

"Name," He said, with a voice too sinful to be that damn smooth and free of any hitch. The gentleman slowly twisted his head to gaze in Ichigo's eyes, face half lidded and free of expression. "What's yer name?"

With that kind of voice, I could buy you the whole damn world. Ichigo felt every prickling word creep up his spine, like a thousand feathers.

The way those thunderous eyes targeted him, looked like he was looking deep in his soul, or searching for his own answer. Heat snaked up the base of his neck, the front of his pants decreased in space and his mouth couldn't hold back gapping.

"Candy Corn," The man voiced, more to himself. "I still ain't got a name."

"Ichi'—" Ichigo coughed around the lack of moisture and swallowed a side bottle of beer to wet his windpipes. "Ichigo."

"Ichigo," The name seemed tasted rather than spoken verbally on the pad of the fellow demon's tongue as he lightly tapped his sizzling tea in a nearby ash tray. A slow, predator smile snagged over the older man's face as he leaned closer to Ichigo's face, fanning the scent of freshly smoked Kush and mint. "Number one eh?" he defined with a mild chuckle, so deep it rumbled in Ichigo's chest. "So ya number one or a fruit flava?"

The question was left hanging in the air for several seconds, since Ichigo was stuck in stupidville, forgetting that it was basic sense to respond back to someone this sexy. His throat was clogged thick, his lips parted just enough to get wind through and his eyes focused solely on the lips moving but not the words flowing from them.

"Shit," Chuckled the handsome devil, pulling back from what he was gathering to be a loss cause. "The quiet ones ain't meh type. You can go."

Ichigo suddenly cleared his throat, feeling mighty ignorant after having sat there and stared like a depraved virgin, never been out on his first date. "Nah, nah I'm cool. Jus'—" He sniffled, popping back on his seat, cocky grin in full swing. "It's jus' yo' beauty got me so tongue tied, I might say 'da wrong thang ya know?" His smile grew a mile wide, feeling his confidence boost back up to hyper mood. "S' ya gotta name?"

"Don't everybody?"

"Yeah I guess so," Ichigo waited, blinking several times. When nothing happened he frowned "I wanna learn it today if it's cool wit you?"

The blunt stopped midflight to those smooth, cloud pale lips as the blue eyes darkened a shade and the smile vanished. "Grimmjow."

"Grimmjow," Ichigo said it a couple of more times to himself, sampling each syllable on his soiled tongue until he gave an affirmative nod. "Grimmjow, yeah. 'S sexy, I like it."

"Glad ya approve."

"Oh I more than approve baby," Ichigo scooted closer, laying his elbow on the transparent glass bar stand, curving close to Grimmjow's face. "In fact, I think it'd sound lovely in 'da bedroom." Ichigo's hand magically found a home on Grimmjow's thigh, crinkling the fabric between the inching fingers. "Imagine hearing that easin' from yer lips while ridin' me nice an' slow. I betcha' I can make ya scream."

Grimmjow barely seemed fazed by the wager, yet his eyebrow lifted, intrigued, more so than he thought he'd be. "Make me scream?"He did something close to a growling chuckle that thundered like a stereo in Ichigo's chest. "Ya got ya shit twisted don't cha? Ain't it pass yer curfew?"

Ichigo chuckled. "Ya got jokes eh? I like that. S' cute. Nah, baby I'm good. Mom an' Pop don' care. 'Sides, I'm old enough ta' make babies," Ichigo gave him a look. "And you?"

"Old enough for ya to still be in meh nut sack," The wrapped up herbs finally made it to their destination decreasing in size and being released as nothing but a murky smoke screen. "Ya here alone?"

Shaking his head, Ichigo jerked his thumb behind him. "Me an' meh crew came out ta' celebrate graduatin' tomorrow from the academy," He felt a swell of pride boil in his chest. "We swearin' in as the Po Po first thang."

For the briefest, smallest moment, Grimmjow's eyes narrowed to the side and the street wide smile returned, "Da Po Po eh?" He shrugged a shoulder. "I always like 'em in a uniform . . ." He took another drag and exhaled the rest of his sentence in a heated hiss. "Makes ya asses look tighter for meh to slam . . ." Every word brought him closer and closer to Ichigo's face until he was less than a lick away from his lips. "Makes me wanna fuck the shit outta of 'em . . ."

"Keh," Ichigo twitched both his eyes, feeling the vibe of building sex drown the blood vessels. "We c'n see how tight, if ya want. We got all night."

"All night," When that was whispered, a long arm darted out, snatching Ichigo by his collar and yanking him forcefully in Grimmjow's face, fanning warm coated breath on his face. "Betta think twice lil man. I ain't nice. I'ma light ya ass up with something hot."

Ichigo was drowning in a sea of undefinable speechlessness. That voice just couldn't stop raining over him like melted ice cream, falling off its cone on a summer day. Every growled word, oozed its liquidized substance in his ears and settled firmly in the pits of his stomach. With the combining scents of intoxication and illegal drug activity ranging from all points of the club, there was no way Ichigo could blame any of it on the four words he spoke so freely from his lips.

"I like it hot."

Because he just knew one thing. He was about to get laid, by the finest man he'd ever seen in his life and enjoy every damn minute of it.

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TBC: So tell me what you think? Its my very first Bleach story. ^_^