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
- 2
- 3
CHAPTER 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Onwards...
XOXOXO
Grimmjow followed the dark-haired woman to the office, also known as the lounge area. A black wall phone dangled by its spiral cord and he headed over to it, grabbing it and irritatedly answering with a curt, "Yeah."
There was a pause on the other end before an airy voice floated through the receiver, making Grimmjow scowl in confusion. He definitely didn't recognize the voice. "Is this Grimmjow Jaegerjaques?"
Grimmjow rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. "Ain't that who ya asked for?" he asked, annoyance steadily increasing.
"Tch. Really, there's no need to be rude. I guess you haven't changed much since high school," the voice huffed disdainfully.
Grimmjow's scowl deepened as he concentrated on the voice, trying to match it with a face from his memory bank. He was coming up empty with each attempt. Finally, he just asked. "Who the fuck are you?"
The person on the other line gave a long-suffering sigh. "Ayasegawa Yumichika. You called me Yumi-chick all through high school. I hated you; I still hate you, but I think we can be of some use to each other, for once."
Grimmjow paused and the nickname finally rang bells in his mind as an image floated to the fore. Short guy with short, jet-black hair. Looked exactly like a chick, hence the name "Yumi-chick". An evil grin curled his lips upwards. "Ohhhh. I remember ya now. Ya used ta trail after Ikkaku all the time," he stated before continuing, a thoughtful frown tugging at his brow. "How can you be of use ta me?" he questioned.
"Ugh, figures. You're still a hemorrhoidal asshole. And excuse me, but this usefulness thing goes both ways. Jerk," Yumi-chick snapped angrily. Grimmjow chuckled and opened his mouth to comment, but was beaten to the punch. "I understand that you're gay, Grimm-Jackass."
The smile completely left his face as he pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it as if it had suddenly come alive and started licking him. Say what, now? "What the fuck didja just call me? And how the hell ya know that? We were never friends!" he inquired stiffly, hair bristling with fury.
"Oh, please! Do give me a break, Grimm-Jerk. I am a gay man; my gay-dar is flawless, dear. You were quite see-through, even in high school," Yumi-chick said offhandedly, but Grimmjow could hear the smug undertone.
"Ya little-" Grimmjow growled, but was cut off before he could really get going.
"Listen, I didn't call you to reminisce or trade insults. It doesn't matter if you're gay or not, although, I know you are. Either way, I want to use you for a photo shoot for Ikkaku's campaign in America."
Grimmjow had his mouth set to spew pure venom, but paused at the other man's words. Photo shoot? Ikkaku's campaign in America? What was Yumi-chick babbling about and how did this benefit him?
"What're ya talkin' about?" he tentatively asked.
Grimmjow could hear the grin in Yumi-chick's voice as he responded. "Just what I said. The campaign is silently protesting the ban on same-sex marriage in California of America; something called Prop 8. We use photos to do this and we call it NOH8. I want to use you because of your occupation. Ikkaku and I had the idea to gather men and women and shoot them wearing the uniforms of their occupations. Your sexual preference is just a bonus. So, what do you say? Will you do it?"
Grimmjow couldn't deny the cause was a noble one and he really didn't mind taking a few pictures. He just didn't like the little twerp on the other end of the phone. After considering it for a few minutes, he sighed and shrugged, even though he knew Yumi-chick couldn't see the motion. "Fine. When am I supposed ta do this?" he grumbled.
Yumi-chick let out an excited squeal and Grimmjow cringed, aggravated. "Friday! Friday morning, nine-thirty, at The Center and don't forget to bring your gear!"
Grimmjow grunted and hung up the phone. He rubbed his chin and grimaced as he thought about what he'd just agreed to. It wasn't the cause or the campaign or even the photo shoot that disgruntled him; it was the idiot running the show that made his stomach lurch with irritation.
Grimmjow left the lounge and headed back to the weight room, his mind on the upcoming shoot. Now that he thought about it, did Yumi-chick mean bring ALL of his gear?
XOXOXO
Ichigo dropped onto his couch and let out a deep sigh of relief. His AC was pumping and pouring blissful waves of cold air throughout the apartment and his previously scorching skin was finally cooling down.
He couldn't stop his heart from clanging around wildly in the prison of his ribcage, though.
Grimmjow had again accosted him on his way home, but this time, something had most definitely been different. The taller man had pinned him to the wall with his aura and sex appeal alone, turning Ichigo's tongue into little more than a useless strip of flesh in his mouth.
Sure, the man had been his usual cocky and obnoxious self, but there was something else there that Ichigo just couldn't pinpoint and it was driving him crazy. Grimmjow had been so close that any closer and they would have merged like a highway. Then, there was the look in those stunning, blue eyes that confused him even further. Normally, those dancing spheres of endless blue were mocking, devilish, at the very least, mischievous, but today had been...lusty. There was no other way to describe it, but Ichigo wasn't willing to believe it. He didn't even think Grimmjow was gay, let alone interested in him. He had always seen the guy surrounded by his friends and flocks of girls eager to do whatever he pleased. Grimmjow could probably tell them to lick his big toe and they would without reproach or complaint, never mind hesitation.
Ichigo sighed and lay his head back against the cushions. He started to get comfortable, but changed his mind and went to the kitchen in search of a cold beer. His mouth was dry and he was definitely in the mood for one after his ordeal with Grimmjow.
He pulled the door of the fridge open, grabbed a glass bottle and using his back teeth, peeled off the cap. He spit the cap in the trash as he moved towards the white wall phone, chugging down half the bottle in one go. He fished around in his shorts pockets for the folded up post-it Ilforte had given him with Yumichika's number on it. He could use this time to call his friend and find out what he wanted.
As his fingers wrapped around the sharp, jutting edges of the tiny slip of paper, Ichigo's mind went to his boss's strange behavior. Ilforte had scared the shit out of him, questioning him and then bringing out the other photos Ichigo had done for NOH8, only to turn around and be one hundred percent supportive of what he was doing, even going as far as giving him the day off Friday. Something weird was going on with the tall, blond man as well and Ichigo was left just as baffled as the Grimmjow situation left him.
Ichigo freed the post-it from his pocket and unfolded it, slowly reading the number as he punched it in on the phone. He lifted the receiver to his ear and waited while the connection was made. Three rings and a breathy, airy voice answered. "Yumichika speaking."
Ichigo grinned as he cradled the receiver between shoulder and ear. "Yo, Yumi, it's Ichigo."
Yumichika gave a small gasp of pleasure and Ichigo could feel the man's happiness. "Ichigo! I was wondering when you would call me! How have you been? All well, I hope. Can I just say that your boss is disgustingly hot?" the dark-haired man rattled off and all Ichigo could do was laugh. Yumichika was made of energy, radiating it like a portable heater.
"Oi, Yumi, slow down. I've been good. As far as my boss goes, you can say whatever you want. Free world, ne?"
Yumichika hummed and prattled on. "Are you free to do another shoot Friday? I spoke to your delicious-looking boss and he said he would give you the day off. Now, tell me you love me! Or has he gone back on his word?"
Ichigo shook his head, resigning himself to the fact that Yumichika wasn't going to slow his conversational pace. "He gave me the day off. What did you have in mind this time? The same thing?" he questioned, curious.
Yumichika paused, took a breath and continued. "No, this time we wanted to try something different. We want men and women to pose in their occupational uniforms. Will you be willing to pose in that sexy wetsuit you wear to work?" he inquired teasingly.
Yumichika was such a shameless flirt.
"That's it?"
"Well, yeah. That, the tape and our logo, of course."
Ichigo nodded. "Cool. What time Friday and where?" he asked, all business. He liked Yumichika, but the man's tireless energy wore him out.
"Nine-thirty in the morning, at The Center," Yumichika answered. "And don't forget your wetsuit! Oh, and bring your goggles, too. I might want them around your neck or something," he muttered absently, mind obviously putting together the picture he was imagining.
"Ok, see you then, Yumi," Ichigo said and hung up the phone without waiting for a response.
He was tired and wanted a nap.
XOXOXO
Friday
Grimmjow climbed the large set of stone stairs that led to Karakura's arena, The Center. Able to seat twenty thousand people, the place was the town's pride and joy. He wondered how that little idiot, Yumi-chick, had managed to afford holding his photo shoot in this place.
Grimmjow gripped the strap of the big, dark-gray duffel bag he had slung over his back as he approached one set of the many sets of double doors surrounding the entire building. He pulled on the handle and stepped inside, his eyes trying to adjust to the sudden dim lighting compared to the blazing brightness outside. It was only 9:15 am and already hellishly hot.
A sign with an arrow pointing to his left, announced "NOH8 photo shoot, this way" and he followed it, cursing under his breath when he realized it was leading him all the way to the other side of the building. Finally, he found the entrance and went through the indicated door, his breath leaving his lungs in a rush at the sight that greeted him.
He was on the first level at the top of maybe thirty stairs, looking down at a covered floor with several sections partitioned off for separate shoots. There were more than six sections with their own photographers and Grimmjow was only able to tell the difference by the white backdrops and huge, surrounding lights. The arena lights were dimmed, making the overall effect that much more profound.
After overcoming his initial shock, he closed his mouth and headed down the stairs towards the crowd of people milling about in hundreds of different uniforms. How the fuck was he supposed to find Yumi-chick – whom he hadn't seen since high school, mind you – in this mess? As soon as the thought entered his mind, he spotted a wide, rectangular table, where five people were seated before opened laptops.
He made his way over to it, completely aware of all the eyes following him and stood in line behind a tall, gorgeous blonde woman. She turned to glance at him with serious, clear, green eyes before returning her eyes to the front. She wore a long, white lab coat over teal scrubs and white slides. She had a surgeon's mask over her face, blocking the view of her mouth and nose and Grimmjow shuddered. She was intense.
He was taller than most everyone in the place, so he was able to see over them to watch what was going on. Lights flashed and popped, photographers were giving instructions and it was all just surreal. So, this was what a professional photo shoot was like. A few minutes later and he was at the front of the table facing a blond man, a long fold of his hair hanging over his left eye and the rest tucked behind his ears. He glanced up at Grimmjow with turquoise-colored eyes and smiled.
"Name?" he asked, his voice a comforting tenor.
Grimmjow cocked a brow and smirked. The guy was cute, but he had another man on his mind. Didn't mean he couldn't look and appreciate, though. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaques."
The man's eyes widened and a blush crawled its way up his neck and across his cheeks as he lowered his head, focusing on the black laptop before him. He had his fingers poised over the keys, ready to type, but paused as a frown tugged at his brow. "Um, how do you spell that?" he asked quietly, not daring to look up.
Grimmjow let his smirk widen as he spelled his name. "G-R-I-M-M-J-O-W. Surname J-A-E-G-E-R-J-A-Q-U-E-S. What's yers?"
The man had been typing in the letters as Grimmjow spoke them, but jerked in surprise when Grimmjow asked for his name. He glanced up, startled. "E-excuse me?" he stuttered.
Grimmjow allowed a full-blown grin to form. "What's yer name?"
He loved flirting; it was so fun.
The man's blush deepened to a bright crimson and covered his ears. "K-Kira."
"Oh. Nice ta meet ya, Kira."
Kira smiled shyly down at the laptop as he clicked a button. "You too-" he ended abruptly as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, his eyes riveted to the screen. A slow grin spread his lips upwards. "Yumichika-san wants to work with you himself. He's at stand six."
Grimmjow blinked and then regained his composure. What a coincidence. Yumi-chick at stand six seemed more like fate to him. "An' that's...where exactly?" he asked, turning to look at the different shoot setups.
"All the way over there," Kira said, standing and pointing directly to the right. Grimmjow grimaced. Figures. Yumi-chick's setup was all the way on the far side of the floor.
Grimmjow gave Kira a nod and headed off in that direction, hiking his bag higher across his back as not to mistakenly hit anyone he passed by. It didn't take him as long as he'd thought it would to cross the floor covered with people and before he knew it, he was approaching stand six, the number six on what looked like a flag football sideline marker, propped beside a light that looked like an opened umbrella.
There were people dressed in different uniforms and seated in the seats beside the shoot setup. Grimmjow heard the annoying voice before he saw the irritating man. Yumi-chick stood off to the side of the setup, a large, black camera hanging from his slender neck as he talked to a brown-haired guy with dark eyes. The brunet was clutching a clipboard and looking very much intimidated as he listened to Yumi-chick, who was wearing all black. A short-sleeved, black turtle-neck shirt, black skinny jeans and black, low-top Converse sneakers. His hair was still worn in that short, feminine bob, but today he was sporting red and yellow feathers around his right eye.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes and ambled over. Yumi-chick obviously hadn't shaken his love for all things dramatic. The brunet had just shuffled off when Grimmjow stepped up beside Yumi-chick. Yumi-chick turned to face him, mouth opened to speak, when it snapped shut and he stood still as a stone, staring with a blank expression.
Grimmjow arched a brow and waved a hand in front of the shorter man's face. "Helloooo?" he tried.
Yumi-chick scowled and slapped his hand away. "It's a shame such beauty is wasted on a brute like you," he snapped, elegant face pinched and lavender eyes fiery.
"Fuck you, Pixie-dust," Grimmjow growled. "Ya wanted me here, so here I am."
Yumi-chick looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it, or rather just didn't bother. He turned his back and indicated Grimmjow to follow him. They trooped to a small area behind the setup's backdrop and Yumi-chick led Grimmjow into a tiny tent, sectioned off into several different spaces. There were curtains hanging on one side, where Grimmjow assumed the models were supposed to change clothes and then, there was a vanity table surrounded by lights on the other side. Another shorter, dark-haired man stood beside it, arranging brushes and small jars into neat rows.
"Go find an empty space and put on your gear pants with the suspenders. Did you bring your helmet and boots?" Yumi-chick asked brusquely, eyes taking in Grimmjow's entire body. He felt like the other man had just stripped him of his plain, white tee and navy-blue basketball shorts.
"Yeah, I got em."
"Good, go put em on and meet me over here at this table when you're done," Yumi-chick said, pointing at the vanity table.
Grimmjow nodded and did as told, finding an empty little curtained space to change clothes behind.
XOXOXO
Ichigo made his way through the thick throng of people gathered for the NOH8 shoot, having been pointed in the direction of Yumichika's shoot setup. He carried a duffel bag, containing one of his wetsuits and a pair of his goggles over his right shoulder. He was wearing a gray, short-sleeved tee and red basketball shorts.
He was ready.
He broke through the crowd and looked around for his friend, finally spotting him standing in front of a small tent behind the shoot setup. Yumichika was fanning himself with a folded sheet of paper, his free hand perched on his hip as he studiously stared at the ceiling of the arena. Ichigo approached him and smiled.
"What's wrong, Yumi?" he asked, gaining the other man's attention.
Yumi turned his eyes on Ichigo and they widened. "Ichigo! You're late! You have to hurry so I can get some shots of you alone before I start pairing people up," Yumi stated, waving the sheet of paper around.
Ichigo frowned. Pairing people up? "What do you mean by pairing people up?" he asked as Yumi pushed him into the tent and towards a tiny curtained section.
"Hurry and change! I'll explain later!" he exclaimed and hurried away.
Ichigo arched a brow, confused, but pulled the curtain around himself as he dropped his bag to the floor. He stripped out of his clothes and pulled his under armor free from his duffel bag. He stepped into the black, skin-tight shorts and sleeveless top, then pulled his black and arctic blue wetsuit over it, yanking the string up the back to close the zipper. He grabbed his blue goggles, hung them from his neck and slipped his feet back into his black flip flops. He was sure Yumi would want him to be barefoot, but until then, he was wearing his sandals.
He closed his duffel bag and carried it over to the makeup station, Mizuiro waiting beside it. "Oi, Mizuiro," Ichigo greeted.
The dark-haired man looked up and smiled cheerfully. "Ichigo! Long time, no see! Nice outfit! You a scuba diver?"
Ichigo shook his head as he took a seat in front of the vanity mirror. "Nah, I'm a commercial diver, but I do give scuba lessons one week out of August every year in Okinawa," he answered proudly.
"Sweet." Mizuiro gave Ichigo's face a light dusting of flesh-colored powder, meticulously painted the NOH8 logo onto his right cheek and sent him on his way. "There. Yumi's waiting for you out front."
Ichigo nodded. "OK, thanks. Later, Mizuiro."
"Later, Ichigo."
Ichigo left the tent and as soon as he stepped to the side of the shoot setup, his breath choked to a stop and the hair all over his body stood on end. He'd been curious of the numerous flashes and wanted to see who Yumi was shooting at the moment. He hadn't been expecting to find what he did.
There, against the white backdrop that covered some of the floor as well, with an oiled chest dancing under the fluorescent shoot lights and bright, blue hair shining like a Head and Shoulders commercial, was his worst nightmare and favorite wet dream.
Grimmjow.
What the fuck on skates was he doing there?
Ichigo refused to budge, afraid that whatever illusion this was would disappear the instant he did. Grimmjow had on those baggy, black fire fighting pants and those huge, black and yellow fire boots. The pants had reflective bands around the thigh and ankle areas and the yellow suspenders were down, displaying every bit of that Zeus-like torso. His tattoos were stark and standing out with a vengeance against his shining chest and arms and Ichigo was dying the most wonderful death ever.
He couldn't breathe and didn't want to.
He stared helplessly, unable to even close his mouth. Grimmjow had a strip of silver, duct tape over his mouth, but his brilliant blue eyes were lit up, devilish amusement in their abysmal depths, indicating he would be grinning were it not for the tape. NOH8 must have been written on his left cheek, since it wasn't on the right and his black, fire helmet dangled lazily from his right hand.
Oh, Kami.
Ichigo clutched his chest, wishing he had his cell phone so he could snap a few of his own photos. Grimmjow was sex personified in the wickedest way, like putting the devil in a three-piece suit. He was lethal, pure testosterone and absolutely titillating.
Blinding arousal arrested Ichigo, shucking his mind out of his skull as he continued to visually molest the blue-haired magnum opus. There was no REASON for one person to be that physically perfect. None whatsoever. He let out a tentative breath and sighed the rest through his nose when Grimmjow didn't disappear.
What was the man doing there?
Ichigo was confused. He knew one didn't have to be gay to model for the NOH8 campaign, but still...it was just a startling revelation to see Grimmjow there, looking downright edible in his fire fighting gear. What Ichigo wouldn't give to run his hands over that matchless torso, those wondrously sculpted arms and that thickly corded neck.
Fuck, he was about to start drooling any second now.
Suddenly, Yumi lowered his camera, face flushed a bright red as his eyes landed on Ichigo. Ichigo cringed, forgetting that he was going to have to model as well and that that would gain him the attention of the blue-haired man he was just eyeing like a million yen check.
"Ichigo, you ready?" Yumi called and just like Ichigo thought, Grimmjow turned those atmospheric blue eyes in his direction, perfect eyebrows raised in surprise.
They locked eyes and stared for kami knows how long, until Yumi cleared his throat loudly, an amused grin pulling at his lips. "Thanks, Grimm-Jerk. Ichigo, come on." Ichigo watched as Grimmjow scowled at Yumi and reached for the strip of duct tape covering his mouth. "No, keep that on. I'm going to pair the two of you together for the next set of shots," Yumi added coyly, making Ichigo and Grimmjow exchange startled glances again before turning back to the dark-haired male running the show.
Ichigo's heart was throbbing agitatedly at the thought of taking a photo close to Grimmjow while he was dressed like that. The results wouldn't be good. In fact, he was certain they would be disastrous. He kicked off his flip flops and stepped unsteadily onto the white backdrop, Grimmjow's laser-like gaze piercing his soul and searing his skin. Yumi strolled up and cut a small strip of silver duct tape from the roll he wore around his wrist like a bangle. Ichigo took it gingerly and placed it over his mouth.
He glanced over at Grimmjow and almost sank to the floor in a gooey puddle of turned-the-fuck-on. Those ultramarine eyes were positively smoldering and stalking him like a lion. Ichigo whimpered softly, glad that Yumi had gone back to his spot beyond the lighting and wasn't able to hear his moment of weakness. Grimmjow was making this harder than it needed to be. His eyes were like scary teachers to a third-grader.
And Ichigo was feeling very small.
XOXOXO
Grimmjow was shocked, but bigger than that, he was excited. He was aroused. He was intrigued. He was in fucking hog heaven.
He was so astonished by the sight of Ichigo, he had blatantly stared, his guard completely down. What was more, Ichigo had stared right back, heat laced throughout his molten brown eyes. If eyes could talk, Ichigo's would be saying "come fuck me, Grimmjow" and Grimmjow was sure that it wasn't his imagination.
He stood off to the side of the shoot setup, devouring the sight of Ichigo in an impossibly tight, light-blue and black wetsuit, blue goggles hanging around his neck. Was he a scuba diver? Grimmjow didn't give a rat's ass if Ichigo spent his days foraging through sewage for his next meal, as long as he wore that outfit while doing it, he was straight.
Ichigo's bright orange hair was gleaming like a halo on his head, some areas so bright, they almost appeared blond. Grimmjow couldn't see the logo that must have been painted on his right cheek, but the duct tape over his mouth made him think fantastically naughty thoughts, none of them moral. A distinct twitch shifted his baggy turnout pants when Ichigo squatted and the material of his suit hugged every last line of his muscular and wiry frame.
Grimmjow shifted his weight to his right foot and ran a hand through his hair, wondering just how he was going to manage keeping his hands off the orange-haired man when Yumi-chick paired them up. Speaking of which, Grimmjow had a feeling that the little dark-haired prick was pairing them together on purpose.
He hadn't missed the look of amusement in those lavender eyes while he and Ichigo visually raped each other.
Growling under his breath, he glared beyond the bright lights at the shorter, meddling photographer. His attention didn't stay there long after Yumi-chick ordered Ichigo to stand, remove his goggles from his neck and drape them over his shoulder, loosely hanging from his hand. Then, Ichigo was told to put his free hand on his slim hip and shift his weight to his left side. Ichigo obeyed and stared into the camera, one orange eyebrow arched playfully and bronze eyes glittering with something Grimmjow had never witnessed before. It made him want to march over to the red head and drag him behind that backdrop, where he would commence to doing the dirtiest things he could imagine to him.
Sex. Ichigo's eyes were powerfully exuding it.
Yumi-chick flashed away for a minute longer, finally lowering the camera and grinning widely at Ichigo. "Thanks, Ichigo! You always give such good shots!"
Ichigo nodded and glanced over in Grimmjow's direction, eyes still screaming "fuck me" and it made Grimmjow growl behind the stupid duct tape over his mouth. Give him half a chance and he would have Ichigo twitching with residual bliss five hours AFTER the fact.
Yumi-chick interrupted their visual communication again, this time snapping his fingers. "Honestly, would you two either poop or get off the pot already? I can't stand the freaking tension!" he crowed.
Ichigo turned a pretty maroon, distracting Grimmjow from what he was currently doing: giving that little fairy, Yumi-chick, the bird. His eyes hungrily roamed the sleek muscles hugging Ichigo's slender body as he edged closer to the set. Yumi-chick sighed and stepped forward, nudging his back and urging him on faster.
Grimmjow looked over his shoulder and gave the shorter man a look that should have made him wither up and float away. Yumi-chick just ignored it, removing his hand on his own. "Grimmjow, sit down on the floor. Let your left leg stretch out and bend your right leg."
Grimmjow gave the dark-haired man a puzzled look, receiving an impatient one in return. He shrugged. Whatever. He lowered his body to the floor, every bit aware of Ichigo's burnt sienna orbs molesting the hell out of him as he did so. He positioned his legs, set his helmet to his left and looked up at Yumi-chick expectantly, marveling at how detached the man seemed to be as he studied Grimmjow. He seemed like he was far away inside his mind, figuring out how he wanted this particular set of shots to go.
"Lean back on your hands," Yumi-chick muttered softly, stooping beside him. Grimmjow did so, scowling when dainty hands tugged one of his suspenders over his shoulder. Yumi-chick grinned like he'd just found the cure for all sicknesses. "Perfect," he chirped, then turned to Ichigo. "Come here, Ichigo. You don't mind posing with this ape, do you? It may be a bit suggestive. I should have asked you before, but I didn't think you would mind since it's nothing really serious. Everything's just implied."
Grimmjow's and Ichigo's eyes widened at the same time as they exchanged looks again. What did Yumi-chick mean by suggestive? Or rather, how suggestive? And what was going to be implied? Grimmjow passed his glance back and forth between the two men, wondering what the dark-haired photographer had up his sleeve.
Ichigo darted his eyes warily at Grimmjow and Grimmjow grinned behind the duct tape, even though it pulled and pinched his skin. He loved that innocent look in the red head's eyes. When Ichigo turned back to Yumi-chick and nodded slowly, Grimmjow had to suppress a wiggle of joy. Whatever Yumi-chick had in mind, he was so down for it. He was ready to jump in head-first. Inwardly snickering at his pun, he waited for Yumi-chick to finish setting them up.
"Ok, good! Ichigo, kneel down over him. I want your right leg outside of his left and your left inside of his right. You get what I mean?" Yumi-chick asked. Grimmjow chuckled behind the tape at the look of sheer horror on Ichigo's face. Ichigo looked like he'd just been sentenced to death. Yumi-chick stepped forward and waved a hand past Ichigo's face. "Ichigo? You OK?"
Ichigo shook his head as if to clear it and focused on Yumi-chick's concerned expression. His chest rose and fell pointedly as he took a deep breath and nodded. His hands were balled at his sides as he edged closer to Grimmjow, regarding him like he was a fire-breathing dragon. Grimmjow couldn't help but watch in smug satisfaction. He was looking forward to Ichigo hovering over him the way Yumi-chick explained, the way a toddler looks forward to making as much noise as humanly possible.
Ichigo stood over him for a few seconds before finally lowering himself over Grimmjow's legs the way Yumi-chick had ordered. Grimmjow's hands twitched at his sides as he had to force down the urge to grip Ichigo by those slim hips and situate him in his lap. Instead, he watched the red head with eyes that clearly belied his naked desire for the man. There was no way he could hide it in a situation such as this.
Ichigo was perched over him, hands planted on either side of his torso, left knee brushing dangerously close to Grimmjow's equipment and right knee caressing Grimmjow's left hip. The younger man's unique scent wafted over him and filled his senses. Shit, shit, shit. Grimmjow was surprised he wasn't pitching a very visible tent in his turnout pants. Luckily, the material was thick and heavy, so his growing arousal couldn't be seen.
Ichigo was trying to avoid his gaze by staring down at his chest, but Grimmjow didn't want that. He reached up, gripped the shorter man's chin and forced his head up, startled nut-brown eyes finally finding his smoldering blue. Those butterscotch-brown eyes sparked and suddenly, his eyelids lowered to half-mast. He and Ichigo stared and stared, oblivious to the dark-haired man clicking away with his camera, numerous flashes blinking in rapid succession.
Ichigo's right hand left the floor and hesitantly ghosted across Grimmjow's left pectoral, reaching for the yellow suspender. Grimmjow's breath caught in his throat as he watched the younger man slowly slide the suspender down over his shoulder. He'd completely missed Yumi-chick telling Ichigo to do it.
Kami, he wanted Ichigo.
Desperately.
Fuck it.
He reached up and ran his left hand up the other man's back, making Ichigo arch into him with a low groan. Grimmjow's heart rate kicked up to Nascar speeds as he swallowed harshly. He so wanted to run his hand down and over Ichigo's ass, cupping the firm-looking muscles and squeezing gently. He wished they were naked so he could show Ichigo just why the man was afraid of him.
As it were, he let his hand leave the other man's back, only to trace up Ichigo's right arm, over his shoulder and languidly up the right side of his neck, cupping the back of it and fingering the silken strands at Ichigo's nape. He'd wanted to do that for the longest time and now that he had the opportunity, he wasn't letting it slip away.
Ichigo gave him a look that was a mixture of confusion and arousal. His eyes both asked "what are you doing?" and said "whatever it is, please don't stop" and Grimmjow had no intention to. If he read the red head's expression clearly, Ichigo had been wanting this for just as long. Grimmjow grunted and narrowed his eyes, questioning Ichigo without using words. You want me?
Ichigo seemed to get it because he averted his gaze, a deep blush spreading over his face before he turned back and locked eyes again, nodding subtly. Hell yeah. Grimmjow wanted to kiss him, wanted to roll him over and thoroughly violate him, but there were more than a few obstacles in his way. For one, the dark-haired photographer energetically snapping photo after photo of them only a few feet away. Two, the stupid duct tape. And third, their clothes. He wouldn't mind peeling Ichigo out of that skintight outfit, though. That was something intriguing in itself.
Ichigo surprised him and ran curious hands over his chest and abdomen, searching and learning the contours of his upper body, while Grimmjow watched in fascination. There was a satisfied and ecstatic glint in those warm, mahogany eyes and it made Grimmjow hot all over. He groaned when Ichigo's thumb absently flicked over a taut nipple, the noise vibrating his chest. The red head was treading dangerous ground now. Grimmjow lifted his eyes and the look he found residing on Ichigo's beautiful face, made him long to rip off the annoying duct tape and suck all over him until Ichigo was one big hickey.
The way the shorter man mapped his torso with slightly roughened hands had him panting behind the duct tape, until Yumi-chick interrupted, stepping onto the backdrop wearing a wide, smug grin. Grimmjow frowned as he glared up at Yumi-chick, angry at being pulled from the delicious things Ichigo had been doing to him.
"I believe I've got more than enough for the shots I need. Thanks!" the dark-haired man said a little too happily.
Ichigo seemed to realize what he had been doing and jumped to his feet like a cat on fire. He peeled away the duct tape and Grimmjow's eyes immediately honed in on those full lips that were pink and tempting. "You're done?" he asked breathily.
Yumi-chick nodded as Grimmjow removed his duct tape as well, grimacing at the sharp sting. He didn't say anything as he observed Ichigo getting ready to scamper away like a rabbit. He cast one last lusty glance in Grimmjow's direction and took off for the tent behind the backdrop. Grimmjow hurried to his feet and followed on his heels, ignoring Yumi-chick thanking him. He was far too preoccupied on the target of his desire trying to flee the scene.
He stepped into the tent, head swiveling back and forth as he searched for the orange-haired man. He finally spotted his unmistakable silhouette at the far end of the tent behind one of the changing curtains. Grimmjow marched over and without preamble, threw the beige fabric aside, startling the man behind it, those doe-brown eyes wide and vulnerable.
Grimmjow replaced the curtain and turned back to Ichigo. "Wh-what are you doing?" Ichigo asked uncertainly, eyes shooting to the once again closed curtain.
"Ya think I'm gonna let ya run off after all that?" Grimmjow inquired. He hadn't really been expecting an answer, so when Ichigo just gaped without responding, he stepped in and pulled the shorter man to his chest, his arms locking around him. "I ain't pretendin' anymore," he rumbled, lowering his voice to a thick burr.
Grimmjow wasted no time connecting their lips and Ichigo wasted no time melding himself to him like he belonged there. They both groaned in relief as if they had been dying of thirst and finally given an ice cold glass of water. Both of their mouths were sticky around the edges from the duct tape, but neither of them cared. Grimmjow slanted his mouth aggressively, prying open Ichigo's delectable mouth and plundering its depths.
Fucking A.
Ichigo tasted like peppermints and smelled like the ocean.
Grimmjow couldn't get enough.
The kiss was wet, loud, and thoroughly arousing. Grimmjow rotated his hips, grinding against the shorter man's pelvis, tempted to just strip and do the damned thing right then and there. Ichigo reached up and grabbed a fistful of Grimmjow's hair, tugging sharply and angling his head to the side for better access. Their tongues were a twisted mass, writhing and contorting in the most erotic of dances.
Breathing wasn't important.
Neither was thinking.
All that mattered right now was feeling.
Grimmjow tried to pull Ichigo closer, but it was impossible as they were already as close as two people could be without becoming one. He growled low in his chest and sucked Ichigo's tongue into his mouth, savoring the sharply sweet flavor and the way Ichigo moaned like a wanton prostitute.
Suddenly, there was a loud click and a blinding flash. He and Ichigo lifted their heads, but neither bothered to pull away from the other as they searched for the source of the disturbance. Yumi-chick stood at the makeshift entrance, the curtain wrenched to the side as he held his camera and wore a shit-eating grin.
"That was so beautiful," he said wistfully, lavender eyes starry.
Grimmjow grimaced and glanced down at Ichigo, who was blushing ten shades of red, but also refusing to budge from his spot in Grimmjow's arms. Grimmjow grinned wolfishly and nosed the red head's temple in appreciation. He was going to have Ichigo all to himself, even if it killed him.
He reached around, closed the curtain in Yumi-chick's face with a forceful snap of material and turned back to Ichigo, who glanced up at him shyly, a tiny smile hovering over his lips. Grimmjow's grin widened before he captured those lips in another heated kiss.
Or maybe Ichigo was his already.
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Inferno