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The Streets of Hueco Mundo	By : needlesandthread Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2209 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story I do not make money off of this fic, all rights are reserved for their respective creators. Again, I do Not own Bleach, nor do I make money off of this fic..

Chapter List
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A cold grin stretched over Aizen’s face, his souless eyes meeting Ichigo’s.
            “Seems you’re right, you did score a hot bitch. Unfortunately for you, you were too busy thinking with your prick to find out this guy is a cop.”
            Ichigo glared at Aizen coldly while from behind him Ginjo let out a noise of fury.
            “In fact, he’s a cop that works in my precinct, a cop who I thought was on leave for physiological reasons, but obviously our Captain is a lying bastard.”
            “You won’t get away with this, either one of you,” Ichigo said heatedly.
            Aizen’s eyes twinkled with malice. He pulled a Glock from the small of his back and put it to Ichigo’s forehead.
            “If you’d so kindly get on your knees, Ichigo,” he said with a purr.
            Ichigo did as he was told.
            “Where’s your partner?”
            “I came alone,” Ichigo spat, his eyes never leaving Aizen’s.
            “I confirm that, we weren’t followed that I could tell,” said Ginjo.
            Dumb fuck, thought Ichigo, knowing full well Grimmjow would come. Grimmjow would save him, and Ginjo would pay.
            “Well,” said Aizen, pulling back his gun from Ichigo’s head, “Tosen, if you’d cuff our fellow officer, I’ll leave him to Ginjo. After all, they were on a date. It’d be rude of us to further delay their time together.”
            Tosen did as he was told; binding Ichigo’s hands behind his back with the plastic zip tie cuffs they were required to use now. Aizen hooked a finger under Ichigo’s chin, forcing his eyes to again meet his own.
            “It’s a shame Ichigo, I liked you. Too bad you couldn’t leave well enough alone. You tell Sado I say hey, when you meet him again.”
            “Fuck you!” screamed Ichigo, trashing forward.
            Aizen chuckled, straightening up and kicking Ichigo square in the chest, effectively knocking him backwards.
            “Well, Ginjo, there’s your date back. I expect after you have had your fun, you will dispose of him properly, so that I don’t have to report your colossal fuck up to Stark, correct?”
            Ginjo grinned down at Ichigo.
            “Don’t worry; when I’m finished with him, he’ll be glad for death.”
            Grimmjow was half way to Ichigo when he could hear a vehicle speeding toward him. He had enough time to drive behind an old chest freezer and a stack of tires before a Black Lincoln Navigator sped past him. He whipped out his phone.
            “Renji, where are you?!”
            “Still in the van, Rukia has back up on the way, I’m coming!”
            “No, there’s a vehicle exiting, stop it! I’ll get Ichigo!”
            He didn’t wait for Renji to confirm before he disconnected, racing forward. He hoped he’d be in time.
            “Ummphh!” groaned Ichigo, lying on the ground. His lip was bleeding, and he’d taking a rather hard hit to the face, his eyebrow split and a river of blood trickling into his eye steadily with every beat of his heart.
            Ginjo kicked him in the stomach, and he rolled away in pain, angrily struggling to reach for the stolen knife he had on him. There was no time; Ginjo had him by the hair and yanking him to his knees.
            “You’re gonna be a good slut now, and suck my dick pretty,” he rasped, pulling out a small pistol and pointing it at Ichigo. Ichigo glared defiantly at him but didn’t see he had much choice in the matter. Ginjo unbuckled his belt and exposed himself. Ichigo grimaced.
            “You bite me or any funny shit, I kill you,” Ginjo said, grabbing a handful of Ichigo’s hair and yanking his face to his crotch. Ichigo opened his mouth and admitted his erection, his eyes closing in disgust. He felt the pistol at his temple, so he put a little effort into it, moving his head up and down.
            “Ahhh yeah, that’s a good little bitch,” Ginjo sighed. “It’s a shame I have to kill you, such a hot mouth and body shouldn’t go to waste.”
            Ichigo scrunched up his nose at the taste of the man’s precum. It had a bitter tang that burned his tongue. All the mouth wash in the world wasn’t going to be good enough for him if he survived this.
            Ginjo kept his grip on Ichigo’s head, and suddenly it tightened. Ginjo began pistoning his hips, forcing himself repeatedly into Ichigo’s throat. Ichigo tried to accommodate for the change, but couldn’t. His eyes watered and his throat constricted, causing him to gag. He tried to pull away.
            “Yeah, fucking gag on this dick, you piece of shit pig!” Ginjo said, raping Ichigo’s throat for all he was worth. Ichigo managed to twist just enough so on the next thrust; Ginjo’s dick missed his mouth and instead slapped his cheek. He leaned away, coughing violently, trying not to puke as stray tears streamed out of his eyes and mingled with the blood.
            He tried to roll away, but Ginjo grabbed him. He kicked his legs, squirming violently, but Ginjo pressed his knees to Ichigo’s legs, one hand holding him in place by the waistband of his jeans, the other working the zipper loose of Ichigo’s pants. Ichigo screamed in frustration as he felt his jeans being tugged down, failing his upper body in a last ditch effort to escape.
            Suddenly, a black pair of boots entered his line of vision just inches from his face in the dirt. He looked up in time to see Grimmjow, and the look on his face scared Ichigo more than the possibility of being raped and shot.
            Grimmjow was fucking enraged. He came upon the scene of that spineless, monkey dicked asshole mouth raping Ichigo without abandon. It took every ounce of will he had not to empty his magazine into that bastard’s head. Out of sheer fear of shooting Ichigo too, he hadn’t.
            Once he was focused on getting Ichigo’s pants off, Grimmjow moved from behind an old Ford Contour that had been totally wrecked, telling the tale of a violent crash its driver had most likely not survived. His long legs crossed the distance in no time, and he was standing above Ichigo, murder in his eyes.
            He smashed the butt of Renji’s service pistol across Ginjo’s temple, who had just looked up but not in time. He spun backwards into the dirt with a cry of pain. Grimmjow kept one eye on him while he tugged Ichigo’s pants back up over his ass and pulled Ichigo into a sitting position.
            “My ankle,” panted Ichigo, as Grimmjow’s eyes observed the damage done. His blue eyes had darkened and were nearly onyx and had a manic edge to them.
            Grimmjow found the knife, using it slice through Ichigo’s bonds. Grimmjow gave him Renji’s service weapon.
            “Get away from here, Ichigo, as far as you feel you can, don’t push it.”
            “No!” “I’m not leaving,” Ichigo rasped stubbornly, his right eye closed and crusted with blood and dirt. Somewhere in the distance sirens wailed.
            Grimmjow straightened and approached Ginjo, who was still kneeling in the dirt. Grimmjow kicked him in the ribs, hard enough Ichigo was sure some of them broke. Ginjo went flying a few feet, his pained grunt falling on deaf ears as Grimmjow advanced.
            Ginjo still had his gun, and he leveled it at Grimmjow, who just smirked sadistically and snatched his wrist, twisting it painfully. Ginjo yelped and dropped the gun, screaming he surrendered. Grimmjow didn’t care. He twisted until he felt the bones pop beneath his fingers, until Ginjo’s agonized scream pierced the night.
            “Grimmjow, that’s enough,” Ichigo said from the ground near Grimmjow’s feet. He crawled over when he saw that Grimmjow wasn’t himself, wasn’t going to stop until he killed this man.
            Grimmjow spat on Ginjo, training his service weapon on him as the sirens got louder, screaming toward them as a patrol car raced toward the scene.
            “Yer a lucky bastard that yer alive,” Grimmjow said with a sneer. “I know a few ganstas in prison that are going to love gaping yer asshole on a daily basis. Rest assured I’ll personally see to it that you are cell mates.”

            Rukia and Renji had chased Aizen and Tosen straight into a police trap. They tried to smash through the barrier and effectively rolled the Navigator four times. Tosen’s neck snapped on impact, Aizen was pretty badly banged up but lived to answer for what he did. Ichigo and Grimmjow were promoted to Lead Detectives, but Ichigo swore off undercover investigation for a while.
            Ichigo had been taken to the hospital. His eyebrow was stitched, as well as his lip. His stomach was bruised but there was no internal damage. His throat was raw. He was cleared for any STDS and HIV. They were given a month’s vacation with pay, and Ichigo planned to enjoy every second of it. Starting with a day or two of pain killer induced blissful sleep.
            Grimmjow allowed Ichigo two days of recovery. Ichigo slept nearly the whole first day, waking up long enough to relieve himself, eat some soup, and go back to sleep. They stayed at Ichigo’s since Grimmjow thought that being in a familiar place would help him better. Grimmjow lay next to him, dozing on and off in between watching him sleep and jumping up to assist him the minute his eyes opened. He felt like an overgrown Labrador but he couldn’t bear to be away from Ichigo’s side.
            Day two, Ichigo was back to his normal, stubborn self. He refused painkillers, griped he wasn’t an invalid when Grimmjow forced food on him, and cuddled with Grimmjow watching movies after enduring a visit from his brother.
            There was something murderous in Shiro’s eyes at the stitches in his brother’s face. Grimmjow couldn’t even bring himself to be jealous when Shiro tenderly held Ichigo’s face, whimpering, “Ichi” softly, very gently kissing Ichigo’s wounds. He watched in fascination as Ichigo leaned into the kiss Shiro gave him on the lips, kissing back slightly. With that, Shiro was gone, his inverted eyes burning with something Grimmjow could relate to: getting retribution for Ichigo.
            Day three, Grimmjow couldn’t hold himself back. After breakfast, Ichigo said he getting in the shower. Since that night in the junk yard, Ichigo’s showers had been about an hour long and burning hot. Grimmjow knew this because the steam came rolling out from under the door, the water’s extreme heat turning Ichigo’s skin the color of Renji’s hair, and everything in the bathroom would be soaked with condensation.
            Grimmjow waited for the water to run, biding his time to give Ichigo time to get in the shower. Silently, he crept into the bathroom, shedding his clothes and slipped in behind Ichigo, who was standing directly under the burning spray, supporting himself on his arms against the tiled wall.
            Grimmjow ran his hands gently up Ichigo’s sides, feeling him tense in surprise but then relaxing, leaning back into Grimmjow’s chest as he wrapped Ichigo in his arms. Grimmjow kissed his neck, trailing soft butterfly kisses from the base of his shoulder, up the curve of his neck, to just beneath his ear lobe. He let his tongue trace the shell of Ichigo’s ear, teasingly dipping in it followed by his warm breath. He felt Ichigo squirm.
            One arm left Ichigo long enough for one hand to find the soap. Grimmjow dumped a healthy amount into his palm, and rubbed his hands together. He ran them up Ichigo’s sides and across his chest, creating a sudsy lather. He worked Ichigo’s neck, shoulders, and back slowly, until he could feel every knot loosen and dissolve beneath his fingertips.
            His hand traveled down the arc of Ichigo’s spine, trailing over one hip to wrap firmly around his half hard erection. Ichigo’s body jerked when his hand moved, the soap creating a slippery coating and coaxing Ichigo to full solidity. Ichigo groaned, his head lolling back against Grimmjow’s shoulder. Grimmjow took full advantage of the exposure of his neck, sinking his teeth in the soft flesh with enough pressure to leave behind an angry red mark. Ichigo groaned in appreciation.
            Ichigo spun suddenly, capturing his lips in careful but nonetheless passionate kiss, weaving his arms around Grimmjow’s neck and molding their bodies together. His fingers teased the hair at the base of Grimmjow’s neck, sending shivers of pleasure dancing across Grimmjow’s skin. Ichigo pulled away when the need for air was too great.
            “Not in the shower,” Grimmjow said huskily, reaching around Ichigo and turning off the spray. They stood for a moment, letting the extra water drip from their bodies. Grimmjow’s eyes wandered over the scraps and cuts on Ichigo’s arms, the bruising that stretched across his flat stomach as if someone stained him with a bottle of ink. Ichigo snapped him out of it by standing on his tip toes and planting a soft kiss on cheek.
            Grimmjow followed Ichigo out of the shower, toweling himself quickly and following Ichigo’s tanned backside to the bed, stepping over the towel Ichigo discarded on his way. Grimmjow gently pushed Ichigo back into the pillows, reclaiming his lips, mindful of the stitches. Their kisses were soft and slow, filled with lots of teasing strokes of tongue. Grimmjow moved from Ichigo’s mouth to kiss his eyebrow cautiously, then both of Ichigo’s closed eyes.
            He moved down Ichigo’s jaw, kissing over the mark he made in the shower on his neck, trailing his tongue down Ichigo’s Adam’s apple to a dusky nipple. He gave the excited bud a light nip and flicked it with his tongue, listening to Ichigo’s hisses of pleasure. Ichigo’s hands slid over his back, his blunt nails sinking in and pulling up harshly, causing Grimmjow to growl in dark pleasure and grind their hips together. They both groaned as Grimmjow’s head slid against Ichigo’s, Grimmjow repeatedly pivoting himself to their erections danced against each other, Ichigo’s mewls of pleasure growing a little louder with each pass.
            “Please,” he panted, his eyes meeting Grimmjow’s. Grimmjow smiled softly at the pure need shining in those chocolate colored depths. He gently stroked Ichigo’s cheek in a silent promise that he wasn’t going to make Ichigo wait any longer. One hand stretched to the bedside drawer to grab for the little bottle that was going to make this smoother and more comfortable for them both.
            Ichigo surprised him by sitting up suddenly, grabbing the bottle from Grimmjow’s fingers. With a mischievous smirk in reply to the questioning look on Grimmjow’s face, he moved on his knees behind Grimmjow. Grimmjow turned to face him, and was playfully shoved back into the pillows. Ichigo popped the cap, drizzling the lube onto his fingers. He sat the bottle on Grimmjow’s stomach, his smirk getting bigger. Grimmjow stared, transfixed as the lubed fingers reached behind Ichigo and down to his hole.
            Ichigo pushed one finger into himself, blushing slightly at actually doing this with Grimmjow watching. He noted that Grimmjow wasn’t complaining, however, by Grimmjow’s sharp intake of breath and the twitching of his cock, Ichigo was guessing he was really enjoying the show. When he felt ready, he pushed in another finger, pushing deep and searching for that bundle of nerves. When he found it, he cried out, pushing himself harder down onto his fingers.
            Grimmjow couldn’t take it. This was pure torture. He snatched the bottle from his stomach, coating his cock in the slick fluid and tossing it somewhere on the bed. His hands found Ichigo’s hips, pulling the younger man to him. Ichigo removed his hand, using it to line Grimmjow’s cock up with his hole. Ichigo bit his lip and bore down.
            Grimmjow couldn’t stop repeating the “fuck!” as Ichigo slowly sank down over his rigid flesh until he was fully seated. He paused, waiting for his body to adjust to Grimmjow being inside him. Grimmjow pulled his knees up, giving Ichigo something to brace himself on. Ichigo slid his palms onto the offering, holding on and pulling his body up slowly, until Grimmjow was almost out of him, dropping back down quickly. He whimpered in pleasure, repeating the torturous action until Grimmjow’s hands seized his hips.
            “Ichi, I can’t…fuck, we have to speed up,” Grimmjow panted.
            Ichigo leaned forward, kissing Grimmjow’s mouth, shallowly rocking his hips but at a quicker pace. Grimmjow moaned into the kiss appreciatively. Ichigo pulled away, planting his hands on Grimmjow’s chest, pushing his body with everything he had, bouncing up and down on Grimmjow as hard and fast as he could.
            Grimmjow was in heaven, or something close to it. Ichigo’s screams of pleasure mixed with his grunts and growls to make up the soundtrack of their love making. Grimmjow’s hips rose to meet Ichigo’s ass when it fell, pushing himself deeper into the tight heat, hitting Ichigo’s sweet spot each time he speared himself down onto Grimmjow. Ichigo’s hand found his forgotten erection, pumping it with blind desperation.
            Grimmjow took over, controlling Ichigo by gripping his hips, raising his legs and digging his heels into the mattress so that he could thrust mercilessly into Ichigo’s tight cavern. Ichigo’s back arched, his head thrown back, Grimmjow’s name falling brokenly from his lips as his orgasm crashed over him, long, thick ribbons of his seed splashing onto Grimmjow’s stomach. Seconds later, Grimmjow joined him, spilling himself into Ichigo, who kissed him breathless while he rode out his high.
            Ichigo lay across his chest, not caring his semen was now sandwiched between their stomachs, his hair tickling Grimmjow’s neck and chin. Carefully, Grimmjow removed himself from Ichigo, circling his arms snug around Ichigo’s frame, letting the comfort of each other’s company lull them into a blissful sleep.
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The Streets of Hueco Mundo