78Chapter edited Sept 3, 2018 to be M rated as per ffnet's guidelines.
Readers: This chapter is missing its sex scene, and a few other small or too-detailed references to gettin' groovy. Sometime, you might find it over on AO3. Message me if you're looking for it and I haven't done it yet. Life is busy.
Junichiblue
CHAPTER 3
Grimmjow had had enough.
The familiar feel of the cursed throne at his back had had him fidgeting and drumming his fingers for most of the morning like a kid who'd eaten too many sweets. And so, at noon he'd decided to do something he'd hadn't done since he'd been ordained.
He decided to take the rest of the day off.
They hadn't really spoken after that mid-morning break and Grimmjow's latest attempt to sway Ichigo into his bed. Ichigo had mumbled that he needed some air, but before he'd been allowed to leave Grimmjow had simply undressed in front of him and thrown on a new set of clean pants and a shirt. He didn't need to, of course. It was just a dirty tactic he felt like employing in the face of Ichigo's blunt refusal to sleep with him. A dirty tactic, but an enjoyable one. Ichigo had turned his head away, but a blush that had reached his ears had told Grimmjow he'd allowed himself to see enough to give himself wet dreams.
It was only fitting if he had, that Grimmjow shouldn't be the only one to suffer in want. But dammit to hell if that wasn't Grimmjow's fantasy now, wondering if Ichigo had even once at night had those kinds of thoughts about his King. His mind was a playground of images of what dirty little indiscretions the proud young man might take up behind closed doors. It was his own damn fault, but Grimmjow's attention span was well and truly shot, and he hadn't been able to keep his concentration on the issues presented to him all morning.
Vivid daydreams aside, he truly wanted to spend time with Ichigo. So, he'd sent a guard to locate the orangette, who was probably enjoying the sunshine out on the grounds. Grimmjow wanted to join him. They could walk the grounds and talk for awhile. Then he would watch over his training later in the day, maybe even spar with him again. ...Definitely.
He shuddered as he remembered Ichigo's face when he'd been nipped. The mix of shock and anger tethered only by his will to fight. And to win.
Grimmjow's head had been swimming with anticipation as he'd left the throne room, and his steps were light and fast as he headed through the halls towards his chambers to change into something more suited to a casual day and some sword play.
But that was this morning.
And so much had changed since then.
He was back.
By the God's graces and the skin of his own teeth, he was back.
A day that had begun in a mundane manner had ended in a spray of blood.
The bodies of their enemies had been left to rot, strung from the trees that tended over golden wheat fields which lay an hour by horse beyond the city's walls. A warning to the rest.
He shouldn't have been surprised, really. It had happened so often it was almost a matter of course. Grimmjow hadn't made it halfway to his chambers before he'd been interrupted by a flurry of panicked voices. When he looked back, it was to a group of four minor guards who had clattered together at an intersection of halls and then rushed, helmets still askew, up behind him.
If it weren't for their expressions, he might have laughed.
"My lord! It is urgent!" They'd practically skidded as they'd fallen to their knees, out of breath and shaken.
He'd turned abruptly, one long sharp strand of hair falling across cold blue eyes, voice hard like granite.
"Speak."
Grimmjow's blood had iced over through and through as he took in the news, but it was not his place to feel fear. He'd immediately barked out orders to three of the guards to retrieve Ichigo from wherever the hell it was that he was at and confine him to their chambers.
"He does not leave that room," he'd warned. "If anything gets through, you will defend his life as you would your own."
The other he'd sent to gather his men. And as he'd begun to stalk away towards the armoury, he'd turned back to the three he'd put in charge of his consort's safety.
"Have the cook send up his finest fare. And make sure he goes for want of nothing." He took a few more steps, and stopped.
"And if I don't return... release him."
He'd moved fast after that. The elite guards and a large group of regular guards had raced to greet the unwelcome guests. They only needed one to slip inside the city's walls, and it would be chaos. Blood. And death. And chaos.
Intelligence had spotted a small group of soldiers approaching, their heavy armour and pale skin a telltale sign of their origins and intentions.
Hollows.
Savage. Thirsty for the flesh and souls of any kingdom in their path. So violent and misplaced, they couldn't function in anything more than small groups.
And Grimmjow had risen to meet them, the cold bite of his sword their welcome.
X X X
The sun was hanging just above the hills as Grimmjow moved down the corridor, his features angry enough to send servants scurrying in the opposite direction if they were so unfortunate as to come upon him.
He ached in a dull, but persistent way that told him he was alive, had survived... minor muscles and major ones, strained from the abrupt twisting, the sudden lunges and retreats, every one of them vital, every one of them a bid to save his own life... and if not to avoid a lethal blow, then to deliver one.
Grimmjow didn't call on his warriors to defend him. Though he knew they wouldn't listen, his orders were always clear. He could handle himself equally well, if not better. And he wanted his men's attention on themselves. On their ultimate goal.
Win the battle. Deal with the fall out later. Losing men for his own life never truly settled well in his stomach, no matter how much easy air and bravado he managed to exude.
They'd lost men today. Men who'd loyally served their crown for years.
They died with honour, the way they would have wanted to, but it still weighed on Grimmjow's shoulders for the time being. He hadn't the luxury of wallowing in their loss, not that wallowing was his style. And they would never approve of such pitiful indulgences. So, even as mournful and vengeful as he felt, he kept his head raised for himself, for the people, for them. They would be remembered. And celebrated. As heroes.
Because of their efforts, and ultimately their sacrifice, everything that Grimmjow cherished was safe for now.
Everything.
Grimmjow huffed a sigh, an attempt to expel excess energy he didn't really possess. Jitters was more like it. His body was still reacting to every sound and movement around him, had been for hours since they'd engaged the Hollow's and won.
To think, his morning had begun with such promise, his soon to be bed partner by his side, where he belonged, the taste of his skin that much closer in Grimmjow's mind. Ichigo may not have meant to fall asleep on Grimmjow's bed the other night, but his actions practically screamed of offering.
The bluenet rounded a corner and slowed as he remembered the "problem" he'd had that morning, how he'd fought tooth and nail the urge to deal with it while watching Ichigo sleep.
Grimmjow had been moving through the corridors without giving a thought to it, the familiar route to his room mapped into his mind.
But now he slowed, and then he stopped. He almost had to wonder, with all that was on his mind, where this trail of explicit thoughts had come from so suddenly.
With a look, he dismissed the guards that had waited so many hours in the hall by his chambers. He would have paid them more gratitude for their good work, but something else had suddenly captured his full attention.
Even from behind the closed doorway, Grimmjow could tell the scent inside the room was heavy. Noticeable. Grimmjow couldn't help it. He hummed as he breathed it in through loosely clenched teeth, an almost smokey, pungent taste rolling like thick cream down the back of his tongue. He swallowed it down, and felt a near urge to purr.
The young man on the other side of those solid oak doors was X X X.
His scent so damn powerful, it was bleeding through the walls. A scent only Grimmjow could detect.
As the meaning of it dawned on him, Grimmjow felt some of the colour drain from his skin, only to return with an added flush.
None of his consorts had ever done that. As rare of an event as it was, Urahara had made sure they were not already bonded an when offered to him. His advisor would never be so careless with his Kingdom's blood. Neither would Grimmjow, the very reason he never X X X.
He was cautious with his consorts, wary of inciting a consort's X X X, even though it was well known that only the combination of two things could force it out. A strong mutual lust. And a bond.
That meant that despite his protests and repeated claims to the contrary, Ichigo was indeed affected by him.
Deliciously so.
And this longing had fully flared to life in just the few short hours of Grimmjow's absence. Since Grimmjow had had him pinned to the chair? Since Grimmjow had revealed himself to him fully? Had that been Ichigo's downfall? Grimmjow would feel awfully smug if it was.
His hand caressed the knotted wood of the door, fingers running along the emblematic relief carved into the wood.
Perhaps though, it had been brewing all along, and Ichigo was just stubborn enough to suppress it. Well, he wasn't doing a very good job of it now, was he?
Never was a grin so wide and full of impure, earthly intent.
Azure eyes nearly glowed blue fire as instincts reared.
The time for games was over. The day had been a violent reminder that the life they lived could be cut short so fast. Everything cherished, taken away. Everything loved, lost.
They'd been stepping around each other for days, but the song they moved to was only a greeting tune, a territorial display.
He had been going about it all wrong. This dance was always about dominance and submission, a tender balance of pride and acceptance.
He needed to take what Ichigo wanted to give him but was too stubborn to.
He'd proven his worth to him as a leader of his great city. But that wasn't enough for Ichigo. So, he'd shown the younger man he could be thoughtful, fair, tolerant. He had tried to shown him he regarded him with the respect and appreciation he deserved. The young man had taken the reigns of his own life as much as Grimmjow had in his, after all. And he owed him a debt for being fearless and speaking his mind, Grimmjow's eyes now opened further to the needs of his people.
And the fruits of his efforts were paying off. His senses were on fire, tuned into one person alone.
Desire hung in the air as thick and churning as the clouds that crowned the great peaks surrounding their kingdom, and as oppressive and encompassing as the fog that crouched in the valleys below.
Ichigo's desire. It wasn't just Grimmjow. They were both swimming in it. His need surged, the stab of hunger denied for far too long building in his mind like a teeth-baring growl.
He had gone five full days without sex, five days without X X X. He was damned if he would let there be a sixth.
Hand nearly trembling with deepest primal avarice, Grimmjow carefully turned the latch on the door to his room, and silently stepped inside.
X X X
What a load of horse shit.
The young man with hair like wild fire was back at his post on the balcony, wondering what was happening in the world beneath him.
And with it.
What a guy. That blue-haired asshole had actually thought Ichigo was going to swallow that load of shit? Precedence his ass. If that was the only reason Grimmjow could come up with to get Ichigo to...
Ichigo bowed his head, shoulders sagging as he leaned on folded arms against the railing.
He was going around the rails for the tenth time, grasping.
He knew exactly what was going on in the world beneath him.
Ichigo had been primed to escape out the window again when he'd first been rounded up from the grounds and taken back to Grimmjow's chambers. He'd been told to stay put. That was it. All Ichigo knew was that Grimmjow had promised him more training with his men in the afternoon, and for some reason he had reneged. He would have assumed he was being punished for denying him again, but that didn't seem right. It wasn't until lunch had arrived at noon and he'd broken down and eaten some of it that one of the guards had apologized and informed him of the tense situation.
Grimmjow had taken his men into battle against Hollow's. It didn't matter that their groups were usually small. Every Hollow fought with the strength and speed of at least five men. And they were vicious, deranged, cannibals, just as soon to take a bite out of their prey as carve them up with sword and spear.
Knowing did little to improve his mood. A stone the size of Grimmjow's throne had been sitting in Ichigo's stomach ever since. And he felt half sick because his worry was combined with butterflies every time he thought of him. How could he be thinking of that at a time like this?
He didn't want to leave. He had to leave.
As each day passed, he'd found he was trying not to be attracted to the bluenet. He couldn't deny that he had a physical appeal. Truth was, and Ichigo had seen it for himself thanks to Grimmjow's vainglorious display earlier in the day, every inch of him was so hot, it felt immoral to see it.
Never mind that the guy had sent up a tray of the castle's finest cuisine which smelled so mouthwatering it could only be described as food porn. Ichigo had tried to turn his nose up at that too, but he was in an even greater stubborn contest with his stomach, the latter making so many disagreeable noises that he quickly gave in and sampled some of the fare.
As if he could be won over by food. But it wasn't the food that was the point now was it.
And that was a problem. Ichigo was less pissed with Grimmjow now than he was with himself. Because he hadn't found a way out of this, and he could feel himself changing. He desired his company, had done for days, even if he appeared miserable in it.
But that was just a side effect. Had to be. Because, of all the stupid things, he was coming into heat for the first time. He hadn't done that before. Only a strong mutual attraction could bring it on. But he was educated. He knew the signs, and this had to be one of them.
Grimmjow was attractive. He was smart. He was playful. He moved like a hunter and was built like a warrior. And in Ichigo's mind, he had eyes that prowled and wanted. Eyes that Ichigo could never forget. Because as much as they belonged to a King, they didn't. And as much he loathed the very idea of it, Ichigo wanted that crude and boorish attention on him again.
Ichigo was actually thinking these things. It was awful. It was the heat's fault. Which in turn was Grimmjow's fault.
That damn bluenet had a strong interest in him, more than just a lust for him, even if neither of them had really known it. Well, it was clear that Ichigo's body had sure as hell picked up on the scent of hormones in overdrive, a desire to mate, even if he himself hadn't. And that was the only thing that could have triggered this.
Ichigo was a mess and he knew it.
In a moment he felt anxiety and longing. In the next, he was angry. All for reasons he couldn't quite grasp. He was genuinely worried for the blue-haired noble. The overconfident idiot, who'd gone running off into a violent battle, leaving Ichigo sitting on his ass worrying over the stupid prick. What if he didn't come back? They had a fight to finish, didn't they? Did he expect Ichigo to just forget him and move on, live without him, without ever feeling...
Damn him to hell.
He had no place to channel his energy. He'd been trying all day, but he couldn't just shake it off. It came in waves. Each one deeper and warmer than the last. The growing desire to explore his feelings with Grimmjow.
Amidst the turbulence of worry and annoyance, Ichigo felt like pacing, like his insides were restless and needed to move.
He'd been damned if he'd ever admit it aloud, but he was actually pining for his... Ki-... for Grimmjow.
And the only way to keep it in check was to sit out here on the balcony and watch the city's people go about their busy lives in the square below.
There. He felt better now. The view was awesome from up here, high enough to see beyond the city's walls to the green hills and snow topped mountains in the distance, but not so high as to miss the little thief just beyond the nearest wall who had picked his third pocket for the day.
He could see how Grimmjow could enjoy this vantage point.
Ichigo's hands tightened around the thick smooth railing, palms caressing the silky polished marble... like hard muscle under smooth skin...
He let it go like it had burned him and made a fist against it instead.
He just had to keep his mind busy and stay in control. Which was getting pretty damn hard to do when he was locked in this stupid palatial room until the King deigned to let him out again. If he ever would. Of course he would. He was coming back. He had to come back. The were supposed to spar again today. Grimmjow had a promise to keep. And who the hell was he to keep Ichigo locked in here like he was so fucking breakable anyway? It was emasculating.
That's it. He was gone! Over the damn balcony again if he had to.
Stupid King. Stupid Grimmjow.
Why couldn't he just accept that Ichigo wanted no part of his stupid games? Why couldn't he just pass Ichigo over and take some other consort? Hadn't that always been his way, anyway? To take a new virgin every night? The city was huge and the supply was endless. What would it matter that he didn't have Ichigo for one stupid night.
It was just one night.
His hand went to his stomach.
What would it matter if it was just one night? Sex with a King with a body like a warrior and a smile like the devil... would feel so SO good. His body was whispering to him over and over...
It would feel so SO...
Ichigo gasped and took a small step away from the edge of the balcony, heel of his foot moving back for balance.
He felt light headed. He was losing his battle, letting himself get out of control. He could smell Grimmjow. Could almost feel his heat at his back. Could hear his... breathing?
All at once, Ichigo felt himself centre.
"You tried to protect me," he stated simply, eyes fixed on the city. He didn't turn around.
"I needed you safe."
The voice behind him was low, roughened from the hoarse cries of the battlefield... just that, not the emotions running through it. He matched it.
"I don't need protecting."
"Hnn. Normally, I'd agree. But you do from the creatures I fought today," he said seriously. "They were Hollows, Ichigo. We barely defeated them. But... if it helps, I'm sorry."
Sorry wasn't a word that Grimmjow kept well in his vocabulary. But this was Ichigo. And only an idiot would have missed that he had wounded Ichigo's pride. If he could help it, he wouldn't step on it again.
Ichigo looked back over his shoulder, his face placid. He could hear the sincerity, but he wanted to see it too. Just to see it. The bruise on Grimmjow's temple and the scuff on his jaw weren't lost to him from the awkward angle, and his brows drew together. He paused before he turned away again.
"You won."
Grimmjow gave a half snort.
"You doubted me?"
"..."
Grimmjow sighed quietly. Of course Ichigo was not amused. He'd been worried, hadn't he. And he'd had good reason to be.
He reached out, backs of his fingers longing to skim along the side of that set jaw. He let them drop.
"Yes. This time. The kingdom is safe, for now."
Ichigo glanced back without turning at all. The quaver in Grimmjow's voice was naked, even in its stubborn resilience. There was something, a feeling of loss that clung to the space around him.
Grimmjow wouldn't tell. And Ichigo wouldn't ask. Even if he didn't already know what had happened to Grimmjow's men... the losses... he could tell.
"You're hurt."
The warrior King leaned in, resting his chin against the crown of Ichigo's head, not a gesture to be taken as a slight, but as a refuge of consolation. He'd gotten off so easy.
"A scratch." He gave a small shrug. Ichigo didn't see it, but he could feel it.
Grimmjow took a deep breath, Ichigo's scent pulling in with the evening air, and moved his body closer. His voice lowered further as he cleared away the rest of the space between them.
"The view is amazing from here... isn't it... Ichigo."
Ichigo shuddered as heavy hands came to rest on his shoulders, strong fingers digging into his muscles before sliding down along his bare, lean arms to gently link with his own. His movements were slow, but the bluenet's touches had a sense of urgency to them. The fallout of a too-close battle.
"Maybe," he murmured, voice nearly lost to the hot tongue that, as if it had any right to be there, lapped a warm path up the side of his neck.
Ichigo's mind suddenly scrambled as his insides came back to life and... Oh God. He really was X X X. The bluenet's scent and sexuality had pulled it out from deep inside him. He was worse than the bloody pickpocket in the market.
He could feel his thoughts stirring again as they came together. He didn't know if it would save him or doom him. Grimmjow wouldn't want to stay with a simple consort. So, maybe he would back off, knowing the dangers. But... he would have scented it in the air by now. And he was still here. Pressing so close.
Damn him.
"I think it's amazing." The purr came with a hot languid kiss to the base of Ichigo's neck which spread itself across his nerves, rushing, falling, screaming obscenities all the way down into his core.
"Imagine if every night could be like this one..."
Hands tightened, and strong arms squeezed against Ichigo in a possessive embrace, his elbows locked at his sides. He couldn't move, and his instincts were suddenly singing that he liked not being able to move.
The Ichigo he knew himself to be was still inside, and he wanted to fight it, not relax into it, but sharp teeth were suddenly dragging their way with care around the curve of his neck, and he let his head fall to the side, opening to the gentle assault.
The screams of warning in his head had dropped to a whisper. The Hollow's were relentless. Grimmjow's time could be short. His line ended. Perhaps... Ichigo could... they could... one day... But, is that what Grimmjow wanted? With him?
"Nnn," he grunted, noncommittal. His spine had gone weak. He closed his eyes and let his head drop forward, a gesture of retreat, almost shrugging away from the dangerous touch. But Grimmjow's mouth only followed.
"...every night... in this room... with me."
Ichigo's eyes fluttered, lazy and slow to open, as the evening shadow's finally overtook the dusk sun, and the city beneath them turned to flickers of false starlight. Not naturally come by, but beautiful still.
Brown eyes finally focused on the hands entwining with his own. His brain nudged him. Grimmjow had said something, hadn't he.
"...every... night?" he murmured.
"Of course. I don't want anyone else." He punctuated his sentiment with gentle bite.
"Bull... shitting... You'll say anything to get what you want." Ichigo breathed between swallowed sighs as Grimmjow took up his assault again and nuzzled the nape of his neck. How had the man found his sweet spot so easily? And why was he torturing Ichigo so relentlessly? And how had leaning back against him and allowing himself to be touched so intimately become so comfortable, effortless.
"I probably will, but I'm not. I'm not really a bad guy, am I... Ichigo." Grimmjow murmured into Ichigo's ear, lips whispering against the soft lobe of curved flesh. It caused a tickle Ichigo could feel rush down through him, then surge up again like a tidal swell from the base of his body.
"You know I mean what I say," the bluenet rumbled. "Or haven't I proven myself to you yet? Do I need to show you how much I want you... Ichigo?"
Ichigo shuddered. Grimmjow just had to keep doing that. If he kept saying his name like that, rolling it off his tongue, husking it across his skin, he was going to come undone.
Or maybe he already had. He wanted Grimmjow's breath to ghost across all of his skin, wanted to feel exposed, needed to be touched.
"Take this off." Ichigo's command was unexpected. "It's too hot."
Grimmjow's breathing faltered for a moment. Then he hummed in agreement and reached down to lift Ichigo's shirt up over his head, letting it fall to the balcony floor. Ichigo's body heat poured from him as he leaned back into the King. But it wasn't enough. He took the moment to rid himself of his own top, letting that heat reach his own bare chest.
The world around them seemed to sigh.
Grimmjow's roughened hands crawled over Ichigo's shoulders, down along his chest towards his flat stomach, one hand creeping further to his navel. On a mission. It lingered there, running in circles over warm skin, searching, imagining the small hollow space that lay beneath smooth skin. His palm caressed it.
Ichigo's stomach shuddered and he arched his back, head falling against Grimmjow. Why did that feel so SO good? Like Grimmjow needed to be there for the world to be right.
"I'm going to make you feel so good tonight Ichigo..."
Yes.
"You're body will cry out for mine to fill it. You will be calling for your King. Begging for me to make you whole."
And suddenly. No.
"I... I don't recognize you... as my... King, Grimmjow. Not... like that."
"Mmmm... Filthy little liar. You protest... but my name sounds so wanton coming from your lips. Your voice crumbles around it, like it's both a curse and something that could save you."
"Keh. I told you. I don't need... saving."
"Then curse it. I like it when you resist."
Ichigo pulled away and turned to face him, heat in his face that made Grimmjow's muscles ready themselves to deflect a punch, wary that he might just strike out.
And he did, but instead of a fist, an open palm slipped past Grimmjow's shoulder (and how he did it, he'd never know) to grasp the back of his neck.
"Then I'll make it so you won't like it."
Grimmjow eye's widened and suddenly Ichigo was pulling himself up, or Grimmjow down. Whichever it was it didn't matter because he was being kissed. Hard.
A moment later, he could breath again. Thinking though. That was not so easy. He stood there like an idiot, looking down at Ichigo, swaying if his senses were working as they should be. Ichigo's fingertips carded through his hair, the spiked bangs separating before falling back across his forehead, the sharp points heavy with dampness and dipping into the valley of his eyes. It really was far too hot out for such a cool night, wasn't it.
He puffed air from the corner of his lips and grumbled.
"Gotta get that cut."
"Don't."
"Mmm." Grimmjow dove back down to swipe at that perfect mouth with his tongue, then sucked at Ichigo's lower lip as he pulled back. He repeated the action, humming as he did, his eyes dropping shut. "Kay then."
The kiss deepened and Ichigo pulled up tight against him, hands exploring every rise and divot and flat expanse his fingers came across, every new sensation and movement beneath them like lightening in his mind. He was mapping every part of Grimmjow's body he could reach, and it all began to translate into urgent need inside the wet heat of their mouths.
Slowly, lazily, Ichigo became aware that the ground beneath them was moving. Or perhaps the room itself had shifted. Didn't really matter. All that mattered was that they were at the bed. And then, they were on it, Ichigo's back once again pushed onto soft covers, Grimmjow's hand around his throat. Lightly this time, feeling his pulse beneath his palm, enjoying the feel of blood rushing through his veins, being force through by his fast beating heart.
It let the King know how affected Ichigo was by him...
X X X
DELETED SCENE
X X X
"Shh. Sleep. You're gonna get me excited again."
"Tch."
Grimmjow snuggled into the crook of his royal mate's neck, about to drag them both over, as they passed out into oblivion.
He was happy. His bed and X X X, his kingdom secure, and with those two things tomorrow's dawn excited him in ways that it never had before.
He dragged them both onto their sides. X X X
But even as sleep pulled, one thing bothered him still.
"Are you happy, Ichigo?" he murmured, lid-eyed and sated, mind beginning to drift. To make it clear that he was, Grimmjow pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck.
Ichigo shifted forward at his shoulders and twisted his head around, enough that he could see the face of the man who had X X X...
Grimmjow flinched, unable to do much more than that. Formidable brown eyes had cracked opened, a dangerous tint to them. But eventually, the hard expression softened and he replied with a tired smirk. Morning was a nice word.
"Mmm. This could work."
The King smiled.
He knew what secrets the birds kept.
Grimmjow brought his lips up to Ichigo's open mouth and touched them together with gentle pressure.
A feather.
Falling through the trees.
Twisting and turning.
Caught up in the heat of the suns' broken flames.
Gliding on the breeze of an impatient Spring eve.