Sept 7, 2018
Sorry guys. Edited to meet FFNET's TOS for M Rating. A few lines missing from this. Use your imaginations. That is after all, what we writers do. ; )
Chapter 3
Before he'd even allow them to begin to treat him, Grimmjow had pierced his skin, his concern for his people's safety far greater than any he might have for this stranger.
It was his youth that had saved him. And a certain quality he seemed to possess, even in sleep.
And the fact that Grimmjow hadn't found him first.
His teeth were embedded like curved barbs, jaw locked around a strong, slender throat. Large hands dug into the bedding. He had to fight not to take any blood. He only wanted the memories. They flooded his mind, and in a moment he was hard. He liked this boy. He was strong and wild, a good soul. He skimmed through his life for a few moments, enjoying the sensations he felt; of life and spirit, and family. But then, like a giant rushing wave, black and twisting, the memories turned; screams, fire, darkness, fear, hopelessness, loss. And anything good that Grimmjow had felt was ripped away by the torrent. His eyes flew open and he'd retracted his fangs quickly enough to leave a slight tear at the edge of the small punctures.
He was met with a room full of concerned eyes as he swiped away the blood that he'd taken onto his lips. He daren't swallow any. Despite the darkness he'd been left with, the smell of that blood was intoxicating. Far stronger than anything he would taste around here. He knew his eyes were glowing, his naked hunger pouring through. The men around him had stepped back, a reaction he didn't fault them for, even though they knew they should be safe.
He was the strongest. The eldest. And by that token, the most disciplined. And he needed to be.
Grimmjow was panting from the wash of memories, even as his cold gaze met the men's. They wanted to know what he'd seen. What did he know of this stranger? But he couldn't explain it right now. It was too fresh. Too confusing. He felt unsteady.
And he was suddenly far too hungry.
"He can't stay here."
His grating voice cut through their fear. It's finality shocked them slightly. Him too.
Was it for their safety, or was it to protect the boy from himself? He wasn't entirely sure why he'd said that.
Grimmjow left the cabin, knowing the townsfolk would help the boy recover. It was one thing for Grimmjow to end an unlucky soul who came upon their village. It was another to end this life that they had already set their hearts on helping. He couldn't take that away from them. So, they would give him water, food, shelter. A place to rest.
Then they would have to send him on his way.
A few days. A few nights perhaps. He could handle that. The shock of that connection, and that sudden dangerous need, would fade.
It would have to.
In the meantime Grimmjow would lay low, stay out of sight. They all would. No day walks until the stranger was gone. Their night time hunts would not change. If they did not feed, no one would truly be safe. Even Grimmjow's control would snap.
Especially Grimmjow's.
It was close now. And that was three nights ago. And he'd hardly spent any time around the boy.
Just his entire life.
"
Fuck."
Grimmjow's teeth throbbed, his mouth felt dry, and his stomach growled its deep displeasure. He tilted his head hard and cracked his neck in both directions, rolling his shoulders and breathing in a near growl as he approached one of the buildings on their secluded town's main street. Looking for a sign. Any would do.
Night had finally fallen. Many of the buildings were dark. But a few were still lit. Some of the townspeople still ambled down the street, either heading for their local watering hole or heading home. Some were just out for the fresh night air. They watched him with cautious interest as he stalked past them. Aware of his agitation. And moving far out of his way.
Grimmjow didn't care about any of that right now. He was looking for one thing. Not the thing he wanted most, but the closest he could get.
He growled in anticipation when he saw it. There was a small square piece of wood nailed to the door. One word painted on it.
Boshu
Offering
Grimmjow pushed through the door and walked straight up the stairs, quick and soundless.
Three women shared this home. He knew all of them well. He knew everyone well. He let his senses lead him to them. He could feel their body heat, see it through the walls, a dull glow that showed him the way.
They would not know that he was coming. Just that he might. If it was wanted, their offering to Grimmjow and the others was for the taking on this night.
Each one of the women in this house had their own small room. He stopped at the first door and knocked only once. Just a courtesy. As they had done for him.
"It's Grimmjow."
The startled gasp was quiet, almost inaudible. But he heard it clearly. There was always that small jolt of fear, even after all this time.
He didn't wait for the door to open for him. He pushed through it and she stood frozen at the end of her bed, long nightgown covering her body down to her toes. She'd been in the middle of brushing her hair. He snarled at her.
"XXX."
Her eyes were wide, but she did as he'd told her to without hesitation, putting the brush down, and pulling at the loose ties that held her gown closed, letting the garment fall from her shoulders until XXX.
He was breathing hard, even though he was nearly motionless. His opalescent eyes fell to XXX, XXX, then slipped to the XXX in one sweeping movement before landing back on her neck.
Fixated there now. He was so hungry.
That boy.
He launched.
X X X
All three of them. All the women in that house had been bitten, (XXX and XXX ), and nearly drained.
Urahara frowned as he left the house.
He'd stopped himself from going too far. But just barely.
They were being taken care of now, in their home. It would be a couple of days before they'd be fully on their feet again, but with food and rest, they would be fine. The rest of the community would take care of their chores and see to their needs.
And they would let Grimmjow take them again after a time because... it didn't matter if you were a man or a woman, the experience, though frightening – especially when they lost control like that, rare though it was - it was a most... intense.. orgasmic sensation.
Unmatched.
Unnatural.
Grimmjow hadn't been finished though. He'd needed more to slate his hunger than those women could possibly give. That obscene hunger had driven him into their farms, and onto to the nearest and closest thing he could find.
And they'd ended up with ham for breakfast.
Cooked fresh as the sun had risen, seared over a hot fire. Nothing left of Grimmjow to taint the meat so that it could not be eaten.
Urahara wondered what the following night would bring. This wasn't the first time this had happened.
The first two nights the stranger had been here, still unconscious, Grimmjow had fed twice in one night.
The night before Ichigo's first short outing, he'd done the same. He'd even hunted after that.
And now this.
He was losing control. Night by night he was coming apart. Consuming more and more.
But Urahara couldn't figure out why. What was it about this boy's presence that turned Grimmjow into this? He was by no means self restrained at the best of times. The others took their share quickly and calmly, soothing their prey into a pleasant panting high, and a near slumber when they finished.
Grimmjow was not like the others. He was always animal, voracious, and potently sexual. But he held it back as much as he could for their sakes.
He tamed his beast with his hunts. He was the one who kept the wolves at bay, the not-quite natural creatures that lived in the forest. Their blood somehow becoming mixed within the wolves a hundred or more years ago. Their reparations; to keep this village safe, and their own presence in this world nothing more than a scary bedtime story.
They did not destroy the wolves unless they earned it. They were unnaturally aggressive, and a few on occasion even bold enough to try for their livestock, despite Grimmjow's savage warnings. His dominance over the land, indisputable.
And it was his land. This entire valley, his before a time anyone living here had ever known.
But like Grimmjow and the others, and the villagers, the wolves had their place, their right to life as much as anything else. And over time, their bloodlines grew less tainted until eventually, one day, they would be nothing more than what they had once been.
Urahara paused before he knocked on the wooden door to the small cabin where the man of the hour was staying. The one who's name was whispered in hushed, careful tones by night, and shared throughout town by day.
It opened. The young man greeted him politely before he stepped out into the morning sunshine looking cleaner and healthier than he had just nights ago.
And then they went to breakfast.
X X X
He couldn't stay away from him after that.
He was shaking with the effort not to just lunge through the wall as he'd watched the kid stand outside his building, staring at it, at him, like he'd been put into a trance.
He could see him through the walls, a bright light of heat and warmth. Even under the power of the sunlight. He shone terrible and bright. His heart pumped evenly, pushing warm blood throughout his body, it's luminescence concentrated in his core.
He licked at his teeth, his mouth hanging open as his breathing grew deep and unsteady. Panting.
Watching.
And then the boy walked away. Was pushed away.
Grimmjow could smell frustration on him, and curiosity, and fear, and a want of sorts that he couldn't put his finger on.
His eyes glowed bright enough to bathe the dim room in front of him in a faint blue light.
He hardly noticed the doorway behind him open, the cool air from the tunnels to the cave beneath the house seeping out around his ankles.
"Grimmjow. Come to bed. You're hunger is just keeping everyone awake." Grimmjow turned over his shoulder and snarled.
"I don't wanna." He turned back to the door, relieved and yet ticked that the boy had moved on. He folded his arms, refusing to look back again at the white haired being behind him.
"You're only torturing yourself, you know." Grimmjow grunted.
"I don't care."
"He'll be gone in a day or two." The being at his back yawned and stretched extravagantly. "At least stop acting like a stalker until then. It's creepy."
He let out a low growl, an irritable warning.
"Go back to bed. Count sheep or somethin'."
"I would...", the other grumbled, cleaning out his ear with his finger, "but there won't be any left by the time you're done."
Grimmjow's dark scowl followed after him, turning to a slow and withering glare until the door finally closed, the other's long, waggling tongue the last thing he wanted to see.
He turned back to the wall, beside the covered window. It wasn't covered for his sake, but for theirs. He could go out if he really wanted to. Not today though. The sun was too strong today. It wouldn't hurt him terribly. It stung a little, but it would only leave superficial burns if he didn't stay out for too long. But the cloudy days, and the rainy days were the best.
X X X
Ichigo had just finished dinner with Urahara and a few of the other townsfolk. The food was excellent and the conversation fun and uplifting. He regretted having to excuse himself shortly after dessert. But he needed to take Zangetsu out for a walk before dusk, making sure everything about his steed was in top shape. Ready to go.
He planned on leaving in the morning.
It had been peaceful down by the water. He'd skipped a few stones while Zangetsu drank deep. They'd run the edge of the lake along a smooth path, then retraced their steps.
He was just returning from the water with Zangetsu when the beast started to act up. They were taking the curve where the path met the main road, and that quietly disturbing cabin sat. The one next to the cave, or pile of rocks, or whatever it really was.
Either way, Zangetsu was uncomfortable. And he stopped at the curve, large hoofs backing up and leaving a dancing set of tracks in the dirt.
"Whoa, Zangetsu." Ichigo pulled on the reigns, raising Zangetsu's head and reigning him in with a gentle pressure. He reached to stroke his companion's neck.
"Calm down, buddy." But his horse wasn't having it.
He reared.
"Whoa, Zan!" Once, twice, Ichigo clutching tight and leaning forward in an effort to stay mounted.
"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa!"
The third jump was higher, more wild than the rest, and in an instant Ichigo felt himself going. He yelled something unrepeatable as he fell right off of Zangetsu's broad back end, his horse's rough tail trailing up his face as he fell.
Ichigo had managed to throw his weight forward at the last second. And as he slipped off Zangetsu's back, he came down mostly on his heels, knees buckling and arms windmilling. He fell back onto his ass first, then slammed neatly onto his back.
Ichigo lay on his back a moment, wincing, winded, and staring up at the blue sky. As he caught the breath he'd lost, he moved everything that should be moving. Assessing. He grunted as he pushed himself up off his back, legs spread and palms flat in the dirt, glaring at the wrong end of his retreating horse.
They always said there was no point in beating a dead horse. He should really test that theory.
He growled as he looked himself over. Covered in dust, and a slight bruise or two. It could have been a lot worse.
He craned his neck and looked around quickly, down both directions of the road and into the fields behind him. No one around. Ichigo gathered himself up. His pride was only slightly wounded because no one had seen. But he did that far more often than he'd like to admit. But that was only because Zangetsu was occasionally a real asshole. Like now.
He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up, dark eyes finding his horse as he stood and turned himself back around.
"Damn horse. The hell is wrong with you? You're a..."
And of all the places for his idiot horse to freak out, it had to be in front of that stupid building.
Ichigo snapped his eyes back to the earth in front of him, ignoring the subtle jump in his heart rate. He tried to keep from looking at it as he went about dusting himself off, somehow afraid that if he did, he'd see someone or... something... staring back at him from behind darkened windows. He smacked at the dust on his ass and winced.
"Ow! Sonofa goddam... Shit!" His momentary unease forgotten.
His fingers slid over a spot and he felt a small rip in his pants. The fresh sting told him he'd managed to give himself a small abrasion. He was more angry than in pain. The sting would fade in a minute and it wouldn't even bruise. But it was always best to put some alcohol on things like that if there were some to spare. He could mend his pants while he was at it.
He started to walk a little unevenly after Zangetsu. The horse was calmer now, but he'd started ambling away from his "master" and the site where he'd just ungraciously dumped Ichigo.
"You stupid horse. Get back here! I'm gonna chop you up and use you for feed!"
X X X
Grimmjow was at the doorway in an instant, breath coming out hot against the wood, forehead pressing just as hard against it, hair splayed above him.
He wanted to get to him. To go to him.
To check on him. Not kill him.
He may be pacing like a wildcat trapped behind glass while an injured bird fluttered in front of it. But he wasn't that.
His jaw fell open, head turning this way and that, broad upper body swaying to the side. Back and forth.
Ichigo was grimacing, dusting himself off, and cursing impressively too. But he wasn't injured. There wasn't any blood.
He tilted his head back. Lifted his upper lip. Inhaled.
He couldn't smell any... wait.
There was a scratch. A small one. A scrape. His eyes darkened.
A tiny. Little. Scrape.
Claws dragged down the frame of the door, deep and grating. Wood splintered out around them. Glowing eyes squeezed shut. A powerful jaw clenched.
He let out a whine, high pitched and pained, breath hissing out through his teeth. Jaw so tight... burning with ache... that his eyes watered. His own blood thrumming so hard, so loud in his veins, it felt like his temples and the darkness behind his eyes were going to burst.
X X X
"Where's he gone, now? Is he at the window again?"
"No. He's hunting."
"Now?! It's way too early for that, isn't it? Or is my sense of time off again."
"Heheh. That's was funny."
"Shut up! You guys are asses! Who does that shit to their own family?"
"Yeah, well who falls for that, ya dummshit. What self respecting night creature can't tell when the sun's gone down?"
"Oi! I have a condition! And that seriously hurt!"
"Quit yer whining. It healed."
"Gentlemen..."
"Tch! I hate it when ya say that. We ain't gentle. And we ain't men."
"Heheh. He's got a point."
"He's got two of 'em."
"Nah, nah. I saw this one here being gentle the other night... with his girrrl friend."
"She is not my girlfriend."
"She is if she's the only one yer visitin'."
"Yeah. Dude. It's been like three months. She's your girlfriend."
"Hm. I suppose."
"Nothing wrong with it."
"I think it's nice."
"Been a long time since I been with anyone that way."
"Someone's having a birthday next month."
"...What? Who? She is?"
"Aaayup. I seen you looking at her. She'll be old enough."
"Hot damn. And don't none of you touch her, you hear? Or I swear I'll light you up."
"Would all you just shut the hell up and go back to sleep. Please?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry."
"Grimmjow's not looking too good, is he."
"No. It's that stranger."
"Ichigo, right? He is pretty cute, I guess."
"Doesn't do anything for me."
"Me neither."
"Can't smell a thing."
"Grim sure can."
"He's getting unstable over him, isn't he."
"He is... handling it. As long as the boy leaves tomorrow...