August 25, 2008


Series: Bleach
Paring: GrimmIchi, HichiIchi
Warnings: just language.
Summary: As much as he hated to admit it, the hollow was closer to the brat then he’d ever be.

He had been hoping it would just be one of those days. Just another ‘go see the kid, fuck his brains out, and leave’ kinda days. But as soon as he stepped out of the garganta, Grimmjow knew it wasn’t going to be one of those days.

To start off, it was raining. Hard. The Shinigami would be in a bad mood. He always was when it rained. Something to do with his mother or whatever. Grimmjow didn’t really care, except when it interfered with his sex life.

Standing just outside the brat’s house, he could see the teen thrashing violently in his bed. Another nightmare. Grimmjow wasn’t good with the whole “comforting” thing. Ichigo was very fragile and open when it came to the “night frights”, and the Sexta didn’t like that. He didn’t like a weak Ichigo, unless it was because of him. That gave him something to gloat about; this… this was just sad for the both of them.

When the teen made a sharp whining noise, Grimmjow figured he had better wake him up at least. He had barely gotten the window open when he saw it. Him. That white bastard was already there, holding the Shinigami like he was a little kid, who was hiding from the thunder. It only took one stroke on the cheek to wake the orange haired teen from his horrors. Grimmjow hated the way the hollow could smile kindly. He also hated the way Ichigo could just confide in the white being like that. The hollow could pull off the ‘nice’ act. He held the brat closely to his chest, whispering things in his ear, stroking his hair softly. And Ichigo let him. He wanted it. Needed it. His arms wrapped around his hollow tightly, head buried snugly into the white chest. Grimmjow could hear soft sobs escaping the Shinigami’s mouth. Must have been a bad one, since the brat rarely cried.

Looking back out the window, Grimmjow wasn’t sure if he should continue in or just leave. Ichigo definitely wouldn’t be up for a roll in the hay, and even if he was, it sure as hell wouldn’t be what the Sexta was looking for. Grimmjow didn’t do soft sex easily. Only when he was in the mood, which was rarely, and when he knew the kid would go for another round afterwards rougher. Hichigo, on the other hand, could do it. The blue haired hollow had caught them in the act a few times. He wouldn’t say it made him jealous, but it sure as hell made him angry. The white bastard always seemed to have one up on him, and tonight was just the perfect example of it.

He really should have just left, because when he looked back, the white prick was staring at him. He obviously hadn’t alerted Ichigo, because the teen was still clinging to him tightly. But all the same, Grimmjow felt a shiver of jealo-anger- run down his spine as the yellow eyes watched him. The Espada expected the hollow to at least say something, but he merely smirked. Still, it was enough to tell the Espada who’d be getting what tonight. And Grimmjow really wasn’t in the mood to just watch.

He left then, clicking his tongue in annoyance, sonido-ing away from the Kurosaki residence. Maybe he’d come back tomorrow to see if the strawberry was in a better mood. If he wasn’t, well, Grimmjow would just have to make him. Because the Sexta really, really hated loosing to something stupid like rain and lightning.

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