Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Inferno	By : Raceysama Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 2708 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from these works......

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
CHAPTER 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or the NOH8 campaign...
Onwards...
XOXOXO
The air was acrid and filled with thick, suffocating plumes of black smoke. The heat pressed against his turnout gear, but it did nothing to stifle the chills wracking his body. He couldn't see through the dense smoke and Shiro had the thermal imaging camera all the way on the other side of the collapsing building.
He stepped over the fallen debris of what used to be the ceiling and sifted through the mess, his SCBA (Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus) fogged from the intense heat of the flames surrounding him. The icy sensation crawling around in his gut and coating his skin, just kept escalating the longer he went without being able to find the man he was looking for. The Chief had warned them not to come back into the building since it was dangerously close to not only collapsing, but the gas hadn't been turned off in time and was on the verge of causing a major explosion.
The man hadn't listened, claiming to have heard the voice of a child over the roaring din of the fire. He'd followed behind him, knowing they would be reprimanded, probably even suspended, but it didn't matter. His best friend wanted to save someone and he wouldn't let him do it alone.
Somewhere along the trek back inside, they had gotten separated and now, he was searching for him.
"GIN!" he called into the crackling background.
There was no answer.
The floor groaned and creaked, ready to cave, yet he kept moving deeper into the raging inferno. Just as he was about to step over the threshold of another room that was blanketed in thick smoke with blazing flames licking up the walls, his arm was gripped and he was pulled forcefully away from his route.
He turned on the offender, eyes wild as he tried to contain his panic, "What the fuck are ya doing? Gin's still in there!" he shouted.
Russet orbs pierced his soul as Renji practically dragged him through the crumbling hall and towards the exit, not even bothering to respond. He yanked his arm, trying to free himself from the red head's iron grip, to no avail. He was already weakened from carrying multiple victims from the burning building, making it easy for Renji to manipulate him the way he wanted.
He still struggled.
He couldn't just turn his back on his best friend.
Yet, no matter how hard he tried to resist, Renji overpowered him and pulled him through the exit. They stumbled over to one of the ambulances, his gear and helmet seeming to weigh a million tons. Just as he made it to one of the vehicles, a deafening explosion rocked the street and vibrated the concrete. He whirled, mouth wide open and heart freezing in his chest. He watched in horror as the building was enveloped in an enormous cloud of smoke, debris and rubble flying in all directions before it finally collapsed almost in slow motion. He snatched his helmet and SCBA off, dropped it to the ground and started towards the demolished building.
"GIIIIN!" he screamed, his throat raw and voice hoarse. "GIIIIIIIIIIN!"
Renji grabbed him around the waist and held him in place, refusing to budge when he thrashed against him desperately. He dropped to his knees, his teeth clenched and bared, his chest tight and lungs empty.
"GIIIIIIIN!" he screamed again, throwing his head back as he glared at the sky.
Grimmjow jerked to a sitting position, his body covered in a cold sweat and shaking uncontrollably. His heart galloped behind his ribs, his breathing erratic. His eyes darted around the dark of his bedroom as his mind slowly caught up to them; he hadn't really registered where he was at first. Taking a deep breath, he ran a large, tanned hand over his face and tossed away his midnight-blue sheets that had tangled around his long legs. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and took another moment to gather himself.
He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand, the glowing red numbers telling him it was two-thirty in the morning. He sighed and climbed to his feet, stretching, then making his way out of his bedroom and to the kitchen for a glass of water.
His heart was slowly coming down from its uphill run as he trudged through the hall of his apartment. He hadn't had that nightmare in over a year, since the death of his best friend. He grimaced as he crossed the threshold of the kitchen and flipped the light switch. One whole year and the pain was still raw as a fresh wound, stinging just as sharply as a paper cut.
Grimmjow shuffled over to the refrigerator and withdrew a pitcher of filtered water. He poured himself a glass and leaned against the black, granite-top island as he downed it. He rolled the still cold glass across his forehead in an effort to cool himself, as well as calm his nerves.
He still couldn't deal with the guilt and regret that strangled him whenever he thought of his best friend's untimely death.
He and Gin Ichimaru had been best friends since elementary school. They had been inseparable, even though Grimmjow was into men and Gin was very much straight. They had grown up together, terrorizing the neighborhood children, being the kings of high school and University, then eventually becoming firefighters. Grimmjow had been the best man at Gin's wedding, had been there for the birth of his only kid and was even that only kid's godfather.
They had been closer than brothers.
Now, Gin was gone and Grimmjow was left to watch over the man's family and deal with the debilitating pain of his death.
Grimmjow set the glass on the counter and sighed. It was late and even though he had the day off, he should still try and get some more rest.
XOXOXO
Ichigo flopped over the edge of the small, white boat, his legs still dangling over the side as he removed his mask and snorkel. He was beyond tired and all he and his partner had managed to find was a tiny collection of blown glass jars of some sort, a couple beer and soda bottles and a few bottle caps. Ulquiorra had even found a license plate.
Ichigo sat up and perched himself on the edge of the motorized sea-craft, waiting for said partner to break the surface. Not even a minute later, the raven-haired male did just that, bobbing like a bouy as he slowly floated towards the boat. Ichigo leaned over and held his hand out to assist the petite man over the side. Once Ulquiorra was safely aboard, Ichigo plopped down onto the seat near the steering controls and sighed. Luckily, they weren't paid based on what they found on their salvaging dives, but rather had salaries because this last trip had been worse than a bust.
Ulquiorra tugged off his mask and snorkel, shook out his wet shag of inky, shoulder-length hair and took a seat beside Ichigo, his deep purple and black wetsuit making him appear waifish. He reached down, yanking off his black swim fins before finally leaning back against the side of the boat and glancing over at Ichigo.
"This was a pointless dive," he monotoned.
Ichigo grinned, the grin slowly morphing into a soft snicker, "Yeah, you're right. Maybe Ilforte will give us a break tomorrow," he suggested, knowing full-well that their boss – although really cool and down to Earth – wasn't about to give his two best divers the day off. Ulquiorra knew it, too.
"You know that won't happen," he stated dryly.
Ichigo grimaced and picked something from the sleeve of his arctic blue and black wetsuit. "It was worth a try," he muttered absently, warranting a quick glance from his partner and best friend.
They placed their unimpressive finds in a white, styrofoam cooler, then Ulquiorra took the controls and motored them back to the pier. En route, Ichigo stretched out on the hard seat and stared up at the pale blue sky. It was another stifling day and he hated to change clothes and leave the water. The sun kissed the water's surface and made it shimmer like molten silver, cotton ball clouds slowly drifted by and the slight breeze wafting over the bay ruffled his damp hair and kept him cool.
Ichigo knew that as soon as they disembarked and left the immediate area of the harbor, the breeze would cease to exist and the heat would swoop in like a hawk. He sighed and continued to watch the sky, the color reminding him of a certain gorgeous asshole. Cringing, he tried to steer his thoughts elsewhere, but the look he had witnessed on Grimmjow's face the other day was too much for him to ignore.
What had been with that look, anyway? If he wasn't mistaken, it had appeared as if Grimmjow...wanted him. Or was at least thinking a few dirty thoughts at the time. Ichigo couldn't be sure.
He really didn't think Grimmjow wanted him in that way, though. The man had been worse than a steel sword in his side since middle school, where the blue-haired ape had bullied him, pushed him around and generally just made his entire school life a misery. Ichigo snorted. He had been more than glad to get away from Grimmjow and his evil minions during their University years.
Ichigo had gone a different route, going to a school for diving and salvaging, rather than going to med school like his old man had wanted him to. He knew he wasn't cut out for being a doctor and even though it disappointed his father, it was his decision, his life and he would do as he damned well pleased. Besides, he was a fish living in a human disguise. He loved swimming and being in the water, so why not make it a career?
Suddenly, the boat shuddered to a stop and Ichigo sat up, glancing around. He hadn't even realized they were so close to the pier. Ulquiorra cut the engine and turned towards his hunter green duffel bag in the corner of the small craft. He withdrew a pair of purple and black, rubber-bottomed swimming shoes and slid his dainty feet into them. Once he was done, he swung the bag over his shoulder and gave Ichigo an impatient glare.
Ichigo hadn't noticed he'd been zoning out. He hurriedly removed his fins and stuffed his feet into a pair of arctic blue and black swimming shoes, grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Together, he and Ulquiorra hefted the white cooler containing their finds over the side of the boat and onto the pier owned by Ilforte Grantz.
Ilforte ran and owned a small salvaging company in the Karakura Harbor. Ichigo was surprised it had as much business as it did, but then again, he wasn't going to complain, either. It was close to home and it provided him with a good salary. Plus, he was able to participate in other training programs, even going as far as being a scuba instructor in Okinawa for one week in August, every year. His job held a lot of perks and he was never bored, even on days like this, where the salvaging run had been a dead one. The tiny boat they'd rummaged through on the bottom of the river hadn't contained much and certainly nothing of any value.
He and Ulquiorra lugged the cooler to headquarters, grateful to see the dock-hand, Starrk Coyote, heading in their direction. The tall brunet had smoky gray eyes and a lazy saunter that gave Ichigo the chills. There was no denying that Starrk was good-looking, but he was also in a relationship.
Insert sigh.
Starrk was wearing a pair of dark-green trunks, black flip-flops and his chest was bare. He must have slathered on a layer of suntan oil or something because his torso glistened like a glazed doughnut under the sun's rays. A conch-shell necklace wrapped around his strong neck like a choker and his wavy, brown hair swayed with each step he took.
Ichigo felt like he had to roll his tongue back into his head like a carpet.
Starrk was amazing...and straight.
"Yo," the taller man greeted, voice deep and sexy as he stepped forward to retrieve the cooler in their hands.
Ichigo grinned and flexed his wrists, "Hey, Starrk. How's the family?"
The brunet gave a tiny smirk as he fell into step beside Ichigo and Ulquiorra. "They're good. Lily turns eight tomorrow and Rangiku wants to take her to the circus," he responded.
Ichigo chuckled, knowing Starrk's energetic daughter would love the circus. "Good idea."
"Oh! Ulquiorra, Rangiku wants you to meet her sister. Maybe the two of you can come by for dinner one day this week," Starrk stated, turning those lovely eyes in Ulquiorra's direction. Ichigo glanced at his best friend, wondering what he would say.
Amazingly, Ulquiorra averted his gaze and nodded. "That would be fine."
Ichigo frowned, confused and speechless. Ulquiorra wasn't a virgin, but he wasn't necessarily a ladies man, either. The last Ichigo remembered, the smaller, onyx-haired man had dated only a few times, had sex less times than that and really didn't seem interested in dating at all. So, why now was he accepting virtually a blind date?
They entered the modest, wooden building that was headquarters and Ichigo brightened at the sight of the secretary. She had been absent for a week, due to a summer cold and her replacement had been less than enjoyable. The sixteen-year old girl jumped up from her spot behind a gray desk, a raised partition separating her from customers and visitors, and flew towards him. Ichigo smiled and held his arms open, wrapping the smaller girl up into a huge hug, even spinning her around as she giggled and clung to him like a wet leaf.
"Ichigo!" she squealed, her arms tight around his neck. He was very close to being strangled, but he had missed the girl, so he allowed her to nearly kill him with her enthusiasm. "I missed you so much!" she continued.
Ichigo petted her short bob of bubblegum pink hair and gently pried her arms from his neck. On second thought, he needed to breathe. "I missed you, too, Yachi-chan. I'm glad you're feeling better."
Yachiru cheesed up at him as she stepped back, "Yeah, I know. Dad was driving me crazy in the house all week."
He outright laughed. Yachiru's dad happened to be his boss's younger brother. He was a tall, slender, pink-haired man named Szayel Aporro Grantz, paramedic extraordinaire. He also worked with the wonderful Karakura Fire Department.
"I could say the same for you, Yachiru," a cool tenor voiced from behind them, making Yachiru cringe in embarrassment.
"Sorry, Daddy," she cooed, sidling over to the man and giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. Ichigo would have fallen subject to that look like he always did, but obviously, Szayel had more experience with it and was somewhat immune. He was wearing the white uniform of the EMS team, his hair hanging over his brow and covering half of his face.
Szayel ran a hand through his daughter's pink hair and shook his head exasperatedly, mustard-hued eyes softening exceptionally, "Don't give me that face. I'll be back to pick you up when your uncle lets you go."
"Which won't be for a while. Yachiru has a lot of work to catch up on," another, deeper voice added to the mix.
All eyes turned to the speaker, Ilforte Grantz, owner of Grantz Salvaging. He stood tall, wearing a white, short-sleeved polo, khaki pants and white thong sandals, his mile-long, blond hair cascading like a waterfall over his shoulders and down his back. Deep, brown eyes gazed at his niece with vast amounts of affection. Ilforte was classic pretty boy, with a smoking hot body that he usually kept under wraps and that long, flowing, blond hair. His skin was tanned a lovely bronze and his voice was like melted butter.
He was also Ichigo's boss and completely off-limits.
"Ok, Uncle Ilforte," Yachiru chirped and headed back to her desk.
"Ichigo, I need to speak with you in my office," Ilforte addressed him, that deep voice making his gut churn with butterflies.
"Oh, yeah, ok," he uttered clumsily, wondering what he'd done to warrant a trip to the principal's office.
"Szayel, I'll call you later to discuss...that," Ilforte continued before turning and heading into his office, not waiting for a reply from his brother, or to see if Ichigo was following him.
Ichigo shot a wary glance in Ulquiorra's direction, disturbed to see the other man blinking back at him blankly. What the hell could Ilforte want that made a trip to his office necessary? The taller blond was rather intimidating when he was serious and Ichigo hoped he hadn't done anything to get on the man's short list.
He forced his feet to move, one in front of the other until he reached Ilforte's office. It was designed to be relaxing, with a mauve-colored carpet, cream-colored walls and a mahogany desk. There was a gray filing cabinet off to the right and a floor-to-ceiling window behind the desk that looked out on the harbor. Ichigo stepped inside and nervously shifted in place.
Ilforte was seated behind his desk in a large, black, leather rolling chair, his arms folded across his broad chest. Ichigo gulped when his boss looked up and pinned him to the wall with his stare, deep brown eyes sharp as a needle.
"Close the door, Ichigo," Ilforte ordered with his deep voice.
Ichigo nodded, trying not to tremble. He was suffering from equal amounts of fear and arousal. His boss was sexy as hell, but Ichigo was afraid he'd unconsciously done something that would cost him his job. He closed the door softly and turned back to his employer, who was still watching him carefully.
"Take a seat," the blond suggested. Again, Ichigo nodded and complied. He wasn't normally always so complacent, but his job was on the line. Ilforte reclined in his chair and studied him with a slow, practiced gaze that made Ichigo squirm uncomfortably. Finally, the older man spoke, "Do you know an Ayasegawa Yumichika?"
Ichigo let out a startled breath, confused as to why his acquaintance with an old classmate was being brought up at his job. Frowning, he nodded, "Y-yeah. Why?"
Ilforte nodded in return and reached for a manila envelope that had been resting innocently on his desk. He opened it and withdrew a few glossy photos, then spread them across the desktop. "Do you recognize these photos?" he asked, brown eyes curious and completely riveted to Ichigo's face.
Ichigo took a look at the photos and upon recognizing them, felt the blood drain from his body in hurry. He peeked at his employer, wondering what this meant for his career. Was Ilforte disgusted with him? Was he about to be fired and thus the reason for the meeting behind a closed office door?
He hoped not.
He swallowed and tried to form some type of moisture in his mouth and throat before he spoke, "Yes, I recognize them."
Ilforte didn't betray his emotions, just gave Ichigo a weighty stare. "Ichigo, you're gay?"
Ichigo cringed, faced with the blatant question. Should he lie? Should he tell the truth? He considered his employer and scrunched his nose in displeasure. He shouldn't have to choose between the career he adored and his sexual preference. Stepping off the cliff, he nodded and gave a stilted, "Yeah, I am."
Ilforte was silent for all of ten seconds before a devastating grin lit up his face. Ichigo almost jumped in shock. That had been unexpected. Ilforte gathered the photos and tucked them back into the manila envelope, his eyes never leaving Ichigo's. "Ah, I see. When did you pose for those pictures?" he asked, sliding the envelope into his desk drawer.
Ichigo was stunned. His eyebrows leaped off his forehead as he regarded the older man seated before him. All this time, he'd been afraid he would lose his job. "I-I, about four months ago," he answered, still unable to settle down from his earlier apprehension.
Ilforte nodded, "Yumichika is a friend of yours, I assume?"
It was his turn to nod. "Yeah, since high school. Er, sir, I don't mean to sound rude or abrupt, but what does this have to do with anything? Am I going to be fired?" he asked.
He could never be too sure.
Ilforte scowled suddenly and waved a hand dismissively. "No, no! Yumichika stopped by while you and Ulquiorra were out. He wants to know if you'll pose for him again. He left a new number where you can reach him and he wants your answer as soon as possible. Something about a shoot this Friday."
Ichigo rolled the idea around in his head, wondering what Yumichika had in mind this time. The last shoot he'd attended had been interesting. Yumichika had dressed him in nothing but white gauze bandages, wrapped around his entire body, slapped a section of silver duct tape over his mouth and painted "NOH8" over his right cheek, the letters capitalized and an inky black, while the "8" was a bright red. He'd taken a few poses like that and Yumichika had thanked him and gone about his business.
A few weeks later, he'd received the shots in the mail, encased in a large manila envelope. Yumichika's campaign was thriving and Ichigo had been proud to be a part of it. It protested the ban on same sex marriage in a state in America. Yumichika's partner, Ikkaku, lived in America and ran the campaign from there; Yumichika helped from Japan, sending him photos of willing participants.
"Is that all?" Ichigo asked, still a bit wary, even though his boss didn't seem to be ready to let go of him just yet.
Ilforte nodded and handed him a small post-it. Ichigo immediately recognized the elegant script of his friend, Yumichika. "You can take Friday off. Let me know how it goes," Ilforte stated, throwing Ichigo for a loop again.
Why did his boss care? Was he aware of what NOH8 was? If so, did that mean...?
Ichigo shook his head slightly to clear it and rose from the plush seat he'd been perched on the edge of, "Ok," he replied.
He would call Yumichika when he got home. He was really curious about what the man had in store this time.
XOXOXO
Grimmjow stood on the small stoop, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. He both loved and hated doing this. He loved seeing his godson, but he hated seeing the boy's mother. She was still in pain, trying to deal with Gin's death and it was excruciating to witness. Sighing heavily, he rang the bell and waited for the summons to be answered, chuckling lowly at the sound of barking coming from behind the shut door.
During the wait, he took in the quiet neighborhood, smiling at the red and blue bike sprawled across the front lawn, the inflatable pool and the lush green grass. Gin had always been a yard stickler, making sure the grass was evenly trimmed and a glowing, poison green. The nice-sized house was taupe and off-white, the siding stucco and very westernized. The roof was shingled and gray and the windows were shuttered.
There were children playing in the street, some on scooters, some on skateboards and others on bikes. Cars were parked in the drives, leaving more playing and driving room in the empty street. He remembered helping Gin pick out the house, as well as the neighborhood.
Memories rose and overwhelmed him, making his chest tight and his throat thick with emotion. He missed the hell out of his best friend. It was a daily trial not to say fuck everything and just once, not return from a burning building or structure.
The lock was thrown and the door slowly swung open, revealing a beautiful woman with big, haunted, wheat-gray eyes and long, sea-green hair. Her figure could only be described as voluptuous, even though she wore a pink and blue, floral-print house dress that went just past her knees. A pale blue apron was tied around her waist and she was wiping her hands on a bright yellow dish towel.
A huge, golden Shiba Inu wound its way through her legs to pause at the door and study him as if inquiring who he was. The dog's name was Chiyo and he was ten years old. Gin had had him for the longest and had refused to part with him when he'd left his parent's home.
The smell of steamed rice and some type of sauce floated through the open door, making Grimmjow's stomach rumble loudly. The woman gave him a sideways smirk, quite unlike her normal sunflower-bright smiles, and asked, "When are you not hungry, Grimmjow?" her voice a mere ghost of its usual cheer.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and gave her a small grin, "I'm a man, Nel. We're always hungry."
She let go a whisper of a chuckle and stepped back from the door, letting him enter. He stepped into the large sitting room, the carpet a slate gray and the walls a light-blue. The enormous, mounted, flat-screen TV was blaring the classic sounds and music of a video game, but the controller lay abandoned on the carpeted floor. Chiyo shuffled over and nosed his inner thigh, begging for attention and Grimmjow bent and scratched behind the dog's ear. A long, pink tongue lolled out of a widely grinning mouth and Chiyo emitted soft pants of pleasure.
Grimmjow grinned. Now, all he was waiting for was...
Before the thought could fully form in his mind, there was the thunderous noise of footsteps careening down the stairs before a small form plastered itself to the backs of his legs. Grimmjow grunted and twisted his torso, trying to get a look at the small boy clinging to him.
"Uncle Grimm!" a childishly high, muffled voice cried from the space between his legs. "When did you get here?"
Grimmjow chuckled quietly as he reached down and plucked the small, silver-haired boy from his calves. He lifted him into the air, receiving a steel-gripped neck hug in return before the boy settled on his hip, big, ice-blue eyes innocent and sparkling with life. There was a bright pink mess around the boy's mouth and he smelled strongly of cotton candy.
"Just now. What the hel – I mean, what the heck were ya eatin', Yoichi?" he questioned the youngster.
Aside from a light slap on his shoulder, Nel didn't respond to his almost slip as she made her way past him and towards the kitchen. Yoichi grinned ear to ear and it made Grimmjow's heart twist fiercely. The kid was the spitting image of his father, minus the slitted eyes. Yoichi's eyes were naturally wide like his mother's.
"Haha gimme taffy!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.
Grimmjow shook his head exasperatedly, "Yer gonna spoil yer dinner," he chided.
Yoichi arched a brow and gave him the classic "like I care" look. Grimmjow moved them to the dark-blue, plush, cushioned sofa and plopped down onto it, Yoichi still clinging to him like a baby sloth. "Uncle Grimm, didja bring me anythin'?" he chirped, turning those heart-stopping eyes on him.
He shook his head and ruffled feathery, silver locks that were sticking in every direction, refusing to be tamed. "Not this time, Yo-chi. Maybe next time, yeah?"
Yoichi grinned widely and nodded vigorously before twisting out of Grimmjow's lap and retrieving the once abandoned game controller. The noise and music escalated as Yoichi retreated into his own little world, racing Princess Peach and Luigi in Mario Kart.
Grimmjow swallowed his heart and tried not to let his emotions overpower him as he observed his best friend's son. Thin as a reed, with short, silver hair and those humongous, ice-blue eyes, Yoichi really was his father's mini-me. The boy was wearing a stain-covered, short-sleeved, white t-shirt, a pair of gray sweat-shorts and his feet were bare.
Shaking his head, Grimmjow turned his attention to the dog that had settled beside him, laying its head across his feet as it gazed up at him with huge, liquid-brown eyes. He reached down and rubbed across the dog's muzzle, mumbling a soft, "Yo, Chiyo."
Two hours went by, where Grimmjow was, for the most part, ignored in favor of Mario Kart as he reclined on the sofa. Then, Nel emerged from the kitchen and announced that dinner was ready. Grimmjow gathered Yoichi and led him to the bathroom to clean his face and hands before they settled at the table to eat. Nel fixed their bowls and plates, her demeanor distant and heavy with sadness, making frustration and anger clog his throat.
The hole Gin had left behind was gaping.
XxxxxxX
The Next Day
"Fuck that! She was a slut, so I told the ho ta suck mah dick!"
Grimmjow chuckled and shook his head in amusement at his co-worker. Always uncouth and such a fucking retard, Shirosaki hated women. He considered them tools to be used for his pleasure and nothing more. Shirosaki was an albino, sporting ash-white hair, pale as skim milk skin and strange eyes. Instead of normal white sclera, his was pitch black and his irises were a pure, shining gold. His looks did nothing to diffuse his attitude and frankly, Grimmjow thought the guy was a hoot.
Renji Abarai stood off to his left, wide mouth pulled into a frown as he glared at the albino in disdain, "You fuckin' twat! That slut yer talkin' 'bout is my sister-in-law, so to speak..." Renji trailed off uncertainly.
Renji was another co-worker. He had long, bright-red hair and solemn russet-colored eyes. He was almost as tall as Grimmjow, almost as muscular and almost as tough...but not quite. The only person that had been able to keep up with him on that level had been Gin.
"Ya don' even know what she is ta ya? How come, Ren-chan? Is it 'cuz yer being boned by her brother?" Shiro stated loudly and obnoxiously.
Grimmjow smirked, knowing for all the mouth the albino possessed, he sure wasn't able to back it up when it came to their red-headed co-worker. He knew. He'd seen the man try unsuccessfully. In his defense, it had been a really close call both times.
After watching the two argue and gripe at each other for a little over three years, Grimmjow had come to the conclusion that Shirosaki was jealous of Renji's relationship with the Chief's son, a stoic, cold man with raven-hued hair. Grimmjow was no psychologist or anything, but he knew good old-fashioned attraction and jealousy when he saw it and what was going on between Renji and Shiro was nothing short of spectacular.
Grimmjow glanced at his watch and frowned. They were on their fifteen minute break before having to go back inside for training and it was his favorite part of the day. He had time to sit outside of the station and wait for the sexy ass, orange-haired guy named Ichigo to walk by on his way home from work. Grimmjow wondered what the man did for a living. He could never tell because whenever he saw Ichigo, he was always wearing street clothes.
He had been antagonizing Ichigo since he'd first lain eyes on him in middle school. Gin had recognized it for what it was: a crush, while Grimmjow, at the time, had adamantly denied it. Once they'd reached high school, though, his opinion had changed drastically. Ichigo had gone and grown the fuck up on his spare time and the results had been fantastic.
What had once been a gangly teenager had morphed into a sinfully sleek young man, the way a caterpillar transforms into a beautiful butterfly. Grimmjow had been floored, astonished, stunned, all that good shit and had made it his business to terrorize the guy even more. He only did it to hide the fact that he wanted Ichigo.
He wanted to fuck him until his nose bled and he was a fleshy pile of "what the fuck was that?".
Gin had been the only one to realize it and had teased him mercilessly over it, wondering why he didn't just be his usual self and ask the boy out. Or at the very least, coerce him into dropping his drawers for him. Grimmjow wasn't sure why he hesitated, either. Maybe he didn't like the thought of being rejected? Whatever the case was, he was taking his time in luring in the orange-haired phenom. He didn't want to show his hand just yet because when he did, he wanted it to come as a colossal surprise.
He glanced down the street and his trademark grin slowly bloomed across his features, reaching up towards his ear lobes. Although he was a tad bit late, Ichigo was right on schedule. Grimmjow straightened to his full height, pushing away from the fire engine he'd been leaning against and drawing the attention of his co-workers.
Renji noticed first and followed his gaze, a knowing smile etching its way across his cheeks, tattooed eyebrows raised in amusement, "That yer little buddy?" he asked sarcastically.
Grimmjow didn't bother to respond, but Shiro twisted around to see what was going on. Once his gaze locked onto the graceful, orange-haired man, he turned an evil grin on him, "Ohhh? It's that time already, ne?"
Ichigo slowly made his way up the street and Grimmjow noticed with glee the darting glances he received. Ichigo was wearing a form-fitting, powder-blue, short-sleeved t-shirt, stonewashed blue jean shorts and powder-blue and white, high-top Converse sneakers. His bright, orange hair was shining like a homing beacon and his body was beckoning Grimmjow over like a prostitute on the stroll. Lean, wiry muscle was encased by tanned, bronze skin, lightly freckled and satiny. Grimmjow knew. He'd had the pleasure of touching it recently, when he'd hemmed the man up against the wall of the neighborhood park.
Grimmjow grinned wickedly at the sight of Ichigo's steps quickening. One would think the guy would learn his lesson and take another route home, but just like clockwork, Ichigo passed the station everyday, without fail. Straightening his plain, white tee and dark-blue tear-away warm up pants, he crossed the street towards Ichigo.
"Yo, Berry-chan, how goes it?" he greeted, knowing the name would infuriate the other man.
Hell, it was the only reason he used it. He loved pissing Ichigo off.
Sure enough, Ichigo whirled and pulled up short, glaring murder-death-kill in his direction, gooey brown eyes lit with an inner fire, "Why do you bug me? What have I ever done to you?" he snapped, alluring face flushing angrily. His voice was deep and husky, like he'd just rolled out of bed.
Such a lovely visual.
Grimmjow grinned and shrugged nonchalantly, "Toldja before, I like fuckin' witcha. How come ya won' loosen up, Berry-chan?" he teased, loving the way Ichigo's eyes strayed to his torso as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Oh, he was no fool. He saw the lust in those maple-brown depths whenever he was within arms-length of the fiery red head.
"Stop fucking calling me that!"
"Why?" he drawled, easing closer, ratcheting the tension level up to epic proportions.
Ichigo gulped and his eyes went all half-lidded and sexy, "B-because that's not my name," he mumbled, eyes riveted to Grimmjow's mouth.
Grimmjow licked his lips, just to be evil and gave a serrated grin, "What're ya gonna do if I don' stop?"
Ichigo frowned as an afterthought as he said, "I'll make you stop," his voice not as firm as Grimmjow imagined he wanted it to be.
He stepped closer, backing Ichigo against the wall and leaving him with no escape. Ichigo smelled like seawater and coconut body oil, musky and intoxicating. Grimmjow placed his hands on either side of the shorter man's head and dipped his head to eye level, lowering his voice as he murmured, "Try."
He watched in satisfaction as Ichigo's eyes darkened to a smoldering sienna, eyelids drooping even further as he watched Grimmjow lick his lips again. Kami, what he wouldn't give to just kiss this man and make him scream in seven different languages.
Not now, though. Ichigo wasn't quite ready to be plucked.
Grimmjow stepped back and smiled when Ichigo drew in a deep breath as if he'd been drowning and had just broken the water's surface. "See ya around, Berry-chan," he said lowly and ambled back to the station, only glancing over his shoulder once to see Ichigo watching him, expression dumbstruck. He smirked to himself and sauntered past his co-workers, who followed him into the building, pelting his back with question after question and when it was obvious he wasn't about to answer, Shirosaki started in with the taunts.
"So, ya gonna fuck 'im er what? I mean, ya looked like ya wanted ta," he accused, snowy brows drawn together.
"I don't see why or how thas any a'yer business," Grimmjow rumbled, making his way to the weight room.
Renji's voice held a grin as he said, "It's pretty obvious, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow didn't even bother to respond as he moved towards the bench press and started loading it with weights. Before he could settle down and get into the swing of things, a short, dark-haired woman peeked inside the room and called his name.
He acknowledged her with a look, so she continued, "You've got a phone call in the office. Someone named Yumichika?" she said with an uncertain shrug.
Grimmjow frowned, wondering who the hell a Yumichika was as he stepped around the bench press.
Guess he would find out soon enough.
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Inferno