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100 Theme Challenge 64 Style	By : GrimmUlquigrrrl Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ulquiorra Views: 1631 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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67. Torture

*I dream of the Arrancar with the light blue hair.*

Ulquiorra moaned in his sleep, feeling a rougher-than-usual tongue on his cock in his dreams. He looked down at the beautiful man smirking as he relieved him, something inhuman-somehow he gave it the name Arrancar- but so like a human that it ignited his passion. He had been dreaming of this man all his life, and though Ulquiorra grew and became an adult the man never changed. His role in Ulquiorra's dream-life, however, did.

Originally he had been a protector, like a father. Telling him wild stories. Raising him. Helping him cope with the loss of his mother and father. Giving him advice his foster parents never had. Always acting like he was forgetting Ulquiorra was still a child. Almost as if he had known him before, but that thought was ludicrous. But then again, what part of a dream isn't? As Ulquiorra became a teenager, the man became his only form of sexual release. Almost every night, he would have a wet dream about the man, and his mind came to understand that he found this man desirable. He got older, and the man became a lover, the only one Ulquiorra would ever have and he knew it. Perhaps having the dreams robbed him of the will to find a real relationship, but why bother when there was a man perfect for him, who could see the changes in his mood that others never would, who knew when to comfort, who knew when to fight it? After particularly difficult days, in college at first and later at work, the man would help him de-stress in a sexual form. Always, he woke refreshed. But never did he learn the man's name.

Today had been preternaturally hard, as Ulquiorra had been forced to let go several employees at his boss' insistence. One of them was a decent friend, which Ulquiorra did not have many of. Nights like tonight, he looked so forward to the man. He would come, the strange skull fragment on his cheek grinning even as he comforted Ulquiorra, told him that what he had done was forgivable, aroused him. Ulquiorra never knew why these dreams always came, despite him being a scant three years short of thirty and certainly no longer a hormone-ridden teenager, but they always did and always when he had been through a rough waking. It was almost as if the man followed him around, invisible, during the day, another ridiculous notion. Ulquiorra would not complain.

"Ahn," his dream-self panted as the man deepthroated him quickly. He knotted his black-tipped fingers in that aqua hair that he found so appealing, trying not to thrust up even though the man always took whatever he gave. Occasionally, when Ulquiorra was truly upset, the man would beg to be hurt, put in his place, and though he never said it Ulquiorra knew that he didn't like being hurt, but would stand the pain if it meant that Ulquiorra would feel better. Always Ulquiorra did, always the man's back was crisscrossed with bruises the next night, always Ulquiorra swore he would never do it again, always he relented under the force of his anger. It only made Ulquiorra love the man more.

The man pulled suddenly off, and Ulquiorra groaned in loss. Only to gasp as the man's tan, round, muscular ass dropped promptly onto his cold standing erection. The man groaned, his voice so beautiful and deep and melodic, as his head tipped back and his hands lay on Ulquiorra's abs. Ulquiorra squinted in the pleasure, sitting up. "Ah, God, I needed this so bad," the man breathed, looking blissful.

"Does it hurt?" Ulquiorra panted, looking up at the man gently as he placed his hand on the tan waist. The man looked down at him adoringly, his blue eyes alight like they weren't always.

"Never," he gasped, leaning down to mesh their mouths together. Ulquiorra happily submitted, tongues dueling in a tango as the man shifted his hips and whimpered. Ulquiorra shuddered as those velvety walls caressed his aching cock, but didn't press any more. They had done this before, certainly, but he always worried about the man's pain, after the first time. There had been blood, and a few tears, and it had hurt to see. It had hurt to cause. But the man had tried to hide it, and Ulquiorra had, for the sake of the man's pride, pretended not to notice as much as he did.

Ulquiorra groaned throatily as the man shakily lifted himself up only a fraction of an inch and came back down. To Ulquiorra, who was quite sensitive, even this was orgastic. A slow, shallow pace was set, and Ulquiorra made consecutive sounds into their kiss. Intercourse was not a thing they did often, and even more rarely did Ulquiorra know it was going to happen before it actually did, and so it was something that was never less than incredible.

Ulquiorra winced enjoyably as he felt his swollen head sink into something softer and spongier inside of the man's body, and the man jerked away from the kiss with a loud moan. Immediately the pace grew faster, deeper, and Ulquiorra was reduced to panting and looking up at his partner with hazy, half-lidded eyes as the man began to ride him. The man's angular face was puckered, sweat beading at his temples and above his lip, eyelashes brushing his blush-darkened cheeks, and oh he looked so beautiful. Ulquiorra loved his sounds, his movements, everything about him was so rapturous.

The man grabbed Ulquiorra's face and kissed him passionately, breathlessly, and Ulquiorra kissed him back just the same. "Lay me down," the man implored. "Ulquiorra, lay me down." Ulquiorra groaned and complied.

Ulquiorra carefully lay the man down on his sheets, never pulling out (because they were joined-they were always joined) and adoring the way the moonlight played on his skin. The man whimpered, and he began to move. In this position, it was easier to get deeper, faster, more forceful, and the man keened joyously and arched his back. Ulquiorra groaned as his cock was pistoned in, out, in, out, in, out, hitting that beautifully squishy place each time to keep his lover's mouth open in a gasped moan. Ulquiorra thrust until sweat coated them, until his thighs burned, until neither of them could breathe, until the heat in their cores melted them together, until they were too close to the brink, until the man's cock was hard and weeping against his stomach. If Ulquiorra weren't so busy trying to hold the man's hips he would have reached over and pumped it, just to hear the resounding shout that would accompany such an action.

"Oh, oh, ohhhhhhuuuuUUUUUlquiorraaaaaa," the man moaned, then fell silent and shuddered, his head against the mattress and his eyes misty and half-mast. Ulquiorra cried out as the man came, and his cock was constricted almost painfully in the man's passage. It milked him, and he came accordingly, hunching over and closing his eyes. Oh, oh, it was so good, and oh the man had called his name, oh!

Then it was over, and they slumped together, sweaty and out of air but blissfully happy and harmonious. Ulquiorra nuzzled against the man's crook, gently pulling out, and the man opened his eyes and smiled as he panted. "I love you," he said. "I love you."

"I love you too," Ulquiorra said, holding him close to him.

*I dream of love.*

Grimmjow lay next to Ulquiorra, having cleaned his lover and lain him down normally. He gazed at his sleeping face sadly, dreaming that Ulquiorra would be able to see him laying next to him when he awoke. Rebirth was a whole new kind of torture.
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100 Theme Challenge 64 Style