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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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17. Hold my Hand

Ulquiorra made his way down the hallway, white walls towering over him. He had been called to Aizen, and he was going. He was loyal that way, always had been. He walked with calm resignation of his duties, hands in his pockets, feet nearly silent in the empty hall. This was how it was.

As he neared his Lord's private chambers, a hoarse cry broke out from behind the doors. Ulquiorra froze and stared. The cries continued, punctuated by the sounds of random objects smacking against skin. There was something in that cry that shook the foundation of the soul, a sense of utter defeat and total despair that struck out. The frustration was endless, bottomless inside it. It was not a cry of bodily pain, but of the pain of the destruction of the spirit, and it rendered all the bloody wounds left in its wake. It hurt.

Ulquiorra stared a minute more, his eyes locked on the handles of the massive double doors. They were innately carved, but somehow seemed grotesque. They always had. Another, wetter smack, and Ulquiorra's keen ears picked up the plicking of blood droplets falling to the ground. His face grew grim. He knew why he had been called here this night. He knew the voice that uttered that unholy cry.

He turned to do his duty.

Ulquiorra looked up as the doorknob was fumbled with from outside. The room was dark, tinged navy by the sickle moon, the only stabbing trails of yellow light coming from the edges of the door. Ulquiorra waited patiently as the door was pushed inwards, and the naked and bloodspattered figure of the Sexta Espada stumbled in. He leaned against the wall with all his weight, head dangling to his chest and eyes veiled in shadow as if he feared looking up, as if he were afraid that if he looked up he would discover that Aizen stood before him yet again. As if by not looking up he could ignore the horrors committed to him.

This time Ulquiorra could see as well as hear the blood dripping onto the tile, and saw that it was not the only bodily fluid that flowed sluggishly down Grimmjow's thigh. Grimmjow stayed perfectly still, only his chest heaving in ragged gasps, and Ulquiorra could sympathize with the pain. He silently stood, leaving the imprint of his sitting on the edge of the mattress, and walked over. The movement caught Grimmjow's eye and the Sexta's blue eyes snapped up. The innate, chest-constricting fear reflected there for just a moment was too foreign a feeling to be seeing on Grimmjow's face. Then Grimmjow worked up the very best cocky look he could, coupled with the anger eternally present, but it was an empty sham of Grimmjow's expression. Ulquiorra did not cease coming.

"The fuck're you doing in my room, Cuarta?" Grimmjow growled as Ulquiorra calmly bit his own thumb hard enough to draw blood. They were now chest to chest, nearly touching, and Ulquiorra could see Grimmjow fighting back the urge to shrink away. "Oi, what do you think you're doing? Answer me!"

"You do not need to keep up appearances, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, running his bloody thumb gently over a deep cut in Grimmjow's trapezius. "I know how it hurts." Grimmjow's mask dissolved away, and his eyes stared at Ulquiorra widely.

"He-to you..." Grimmjow said, and Ulquiorra ran his thumb down a cut on the other man's bicep.

"Yes," Ulquiorra said, spreading his healing blood over what few injuries had been inflicted to the front of Grimmjow's body. Aizen preferred to terrorize from behind. "He usually switches between Hallibel-sama and myself, about every two months. Come and lay down on your stomach, so I can heal you back." Grimmjow just continued to stare at Ulquiorra as he gently coaxed him over to the bed, rebiting his thumb as it healed. He allowed Grimmjow to use him for support only as was desired, understanding the need to stand on one's own two feet, and slowly they came to the bed. Grimmjow painstakingly dragged himself onto it, every minor movement belaying the pain of his wounds, and Ulquiorra could see the twitches of his muscles as his body forced itself to forge through.

When Grimmjow lay in the center of the bed, flayed back to the ceiling as Ulquiorra had instructed, the pale arrancar climbed on top of him with gentle movements. He sat on Grimmjow's calves and ran his thumb over the deepest wounds first. He started from the thighs, working slowly upward but always careful to avoid becoming fresh. The gashes here were far more numerous, and Grimmjow hissed at Ulquiorra's careful touches. The wounds stopped bleeding almost immediately, beginning to close, and Grimmjow relaxed little by little. Ulquiorra knew how the healing felt, like a cold, unnamable liquid seeping in and extinguishing the pain. He could not imagine what it must feel like for that pain to continue until the wounds healed on their own, nor did he ever want to, but knowing that this is what Grimmjow went through made him wonder with a vague, sickly kind of questioning.

"So...after two months he'll leave me alone?" Grimmjow asked, his voice hushed in the full silence of the room.

"Yes," Ulquiorra said, opening his thumb again.

"But he'll come back." The painful way Grimmjow's face contorted in despair made Ulquiorra's chest ache for his fellow Espada.

"I will do my best to delay him," he said, knowing that it truly was no comfort. But he had ben forced into this arrangement from his first day as an arrancar, and he knew he could handle more than Grimmjow could. His experience could mean a shred of Grimmjow's innocence.

"Don't," Grimmjow said, blue eyes closing as he lay there. "You don't have to." And Ulquiorra understood.

Grimmjow started by a tiny margin as Ulquiorra healed a long but shallow cut scored into his rear, and Ulquiorra eased up on the pressure. He knew it was not a matter of pain that made the other jump. As he worked his way upward he came across more injuries, placed so close together that there was no room for any more. Aizen had shown no mercy this night. Grimmjow's breathing had evened to a soothing tempo that Ulquiorra found his own chest moving to, and for a brief moment Ulquiorra that that this event marked a change.

The silence remained until Ulquiorra's healing touch had nearly reached Grimmjow's shoulder blades. "Won't you get in trouble?" Grimmjow asked. "For doing this?"

"Aizen-sama is aware that I do this for Hallibel-sama," Ulquiorra answered him, watching the wounds close slowly. "In fact, he called me to his chambers tonight so I would know about you. I anticipate that he called me because he wished me to heal you. This is the hardest he had ever gone on you, correct?" Grimmjow's eyes became downcast.

"You're doing this because Aizen wishes it?" he asked, and the sudden desolation in his voice stunned Ulquiorra. The loneliness was shocking.

"No," Ulquiorra replied immediately. "Aizen called me because he knew I would do this once I knew, but he has never ordered me in this manner. I do this because we are the same." The pained look on Grimmjow's face smoothed itself as Grimmjow let out a breath and closed his eyes again. He seemed to be glad. "Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said softly, and blue eyes opened and looked at him. Ulquiorra let his hand slide down to rest on Grimmjow's tailbone, and Grimmjow stiffened slightly. "Will you let me heal you here?" Grimmjow froze completely for a moment, not even breathing as he had to weigh two uncomfortable options against each other. Ulquiorra sat patiently. He knew the fear. Grimmjow moved his arms up to grasp the sheets by his head, turning his face into the pillow and nodding weakly. Ulquiorra put his hand flat on Grimmjow's side in comfort.

He bit his pointer finger and dipped it between Grimmjow's cheeks, feeling Grimmjow seize up more. He didn't slow or stop. To drag this out would be worse. His finger found Grimmjow's mutilated hole and Grimmjow's fists tightened as his shoulders rose, a tiny sound coming from his gritted teeth. The ache in Ulquiorra's chest grew, and he tried to be both thorough and quick. But there was something else that must be done, something that would hurt Grimmjow more. "Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, looking at the back of Grimmjow's head, "what hurts the worst is the rips inside." Grimmjow's body locked up. "It's only one finger, Grimmjow, but if you don't want me to I won't." Grimmjow hunched into himself more, pressing his face into the pillow.

"It hurts."

Ulquiorra nodded his understanding silently, rubbing Grimmjow's warm side slowly as he pushed his finger in, feeling Grimmjow shake below him. Once again Grimmjow's breathing had stopped. Ulquiorra gently sought the tears he knew Aizen had left, and when he found one Grimmjow let out another sound of pain. Ulquiorra did not like to hear it. Ulquiorra touched as lightly as he could and still have his blood be effective, finding multiple rips in Grimmjow's tender body. Aizen had been intent of breaking the Sexta Espada. Ulquiorra worked in what he hoped was the least painful way, aware all the time that it hurt, and leaned over Grimmjow to let his nose linger by the other's ear; he hoped the unobtrusive physical closeness was comforting. It seemed to be, because Grimmjow began to breathe again.

Ulquiorra healed every injury his long finger would reach, and then gently prodded at a particularly squishy spot within Grimmjow's passage. Grimmjow's breath hitched, and Ulquiorra slowed his hand on Grimmjow's side. "Every now and then, you need to scream for another reason," Ulquiorra said quietly into Grimmjow's ear. "If you don't, he'll own you completely." He gently continued rubbing that particular part of Grimmjow's inner anatomy, noting that Aizen had avoided it so completely that there were no rips even relatively close to it. Grimmjow let out a light sigh as he relaxed again, and Ulquiorra knew he understood Ulquiorra's benign intentions.

Grimmjow's breath began to deepen as Ulquiorra pressed that place with the utmost care, knowing that if it came too fast then Grimmjow's passage would spasm and the slowly healing rips would reopen. He didn't want Grimmjow to feel that pain again so soon. He slowly increased the pressure by iotas, rubbing at one moment in a line and the next in a circle, all the while keeping it at only one finger as was his promise. Grimmjow began to pant, letting his eyes close as Ulquiorra continued his ministrations, and Ulquiorra took some comfort from knowing that he was not injuring the other man. Perhaps he was even putting him back together.

It was a quiet thing they did, Ulquiorra maintaining the sacred silence and Grimmjow's only noises his breathing. It would have been wrong any other way. In their own dispositions, they were each relishing in the demonstration that this could be done without sobs, without whips cracking, without pleads for mercy, without nasty slurs being thrown about. Ulquiorra allowed his finger to curve, just a little, to dig deeper into that place, and Grimmjow shuddered as he climaxed. Ulquiorra continued to smooth his hand across Grimmjow's side as Grimmjow slowly descended the high he was on, removing his finger after a moment. He was pleased to see that all that remained of the worst of the wounds on Grimmjow's thighs were small scratches surrounded by fresh pink skin, the only thing to show where the injury had been. By the "morning" even those would not be left.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said softly, and Grimmjow opened his eyes just a little. "We should get you cleaned up. I ran the water hot, so it should still at least be warm." Grimmjow nodded tiredly, and Ulquiorra lifted himself off of him so that Grimmjow could arise. Grimmjow did so slowly, and Ulquiorra silently offered him an arm. This time around Grimmjow leaned on Ulquiorra for support.

It was only a short few steps to the adjoining bathroom, a luxury reserved for the Espada, and Ulquiorra didn't mind how long it took to get there. He nudged the door fully open for them with his toe and led Grimmjow in, leaning down and putting a few fingertips into the water before straightening again. "It's still warm enough," he announced, gently turning Grimmjow sideways and putting his hands on the other's tan sides. Grimmjow allowed him to do so, and Ulquiorra put one of his own feet into the full bathtub before shifting his weight and effortlessly lifting Grimmjow into it with him.

They sat together, Ulquiorra sandwiched between Grimmjow's leaning back and the edge of the bathtub comfortably. "You still have your socks and shoes on and everything," Grimmjow said quietly, absently, as he leaned against Ulquiorra. The water's temperature was nicer than Ulquiorra had anticipated.

"That's alright," Ulquiorra said, picking up the bar of soap by the side. Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably, and he froze. "Is the water too warm?" he asked, knowing how hot water could aggravate wounds.

"No..." Grimmjow hummed, "it's your shirt. It's rough." Ulquiorra looked down and saw where Grimmjow's still healing back rubbed against the wet fabric painfully. Ulquiorra didn't enjoy knowing that something of his was causing Grimmjow pain. He used one hand to hold Grimmjow a little ways away, the other unzipping and removing the offending garment. He lay Grimmjow back against him, feeling how their water-slickened skin slid together with utmost smoothness, feeling Grimmjow's warmth against his chest. Grimmjow's body went slack as he sighed.

"Is this better?" Ulquiorra asked, and Grimmjow leaned more fully on him with a nod. The silence filled what little space was between them then, as Ulquiorra pulled the soap into his hand and gently began to clean the other man of his own blood and semen.

"Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow asked quietly, and Ulquiorra stalled his hand to show he was listening. "Have you ever done this for Hallibel?"

"She has done so for me on occasion," Ulquiorra answered honestly, "but no, I have never reciprocated the action."

"Why?" Grimmjow asked, and Ulquiorra could hear all of the questions held in that word. Desperate questions, heartbreaking, soul-crushing questions, and Ulquiorra only had the answer to one of them.

"Hallibel-sama has never felt degraded by what has been done to her," he said. "It is yet another matter in which she is stronger than I."

"So...you've felt..." Grimmjow trailed off, not certain how or whether to breach that subject.

"Every time he looks at me," Ulquiorra confirmed. Grimmjow's hand reached up to hold Ulquiorra's, clutching it where it had frozen against his chest. A sudden air of grim determination set about him.

"I'll do this for you," he swore. "When you come back limping, I'll help you." Ulquiorra felt his shoulders relax, never having realized that they had ever been tense. That would be nice. "Ulquiorra," Grimmjow whispered. "Thank you." Ulquiorra just lay his forehead against the back of Grimmjow's shoulder and sat in the sacred stillness and silence. He understood.
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