Title : Asmodeus

Rating : T (bloooood)

Characters : Grimmjow x Ichigo, Ulquiorra, Aizen

Theme : Angst

AN : Asmodeus is one of the seven princes of hell. Obviously, he is the prince of lust and those said to fall into his twisted ways will suffer a life time in the second level of hell.

Blood stung his eyes as it cascaded over his brow, dripping from his cheek bones onto his pale chest. Hands bound behind his back and stripped of his zanpakutou, Ichigo felt angry and naked as he kneel before the ex-captain in the great hall. The only solace he could find was the fact that the sixth espada was lying prostrate on the white washed floor next to him.

"I'll kill you for this," the shinigami muttered beneath his breath, earning a bloodstained grin from the blue haired animal.

"You'll never get the chance now," Grimmjow laughed, coughing up fresh crimson, staining the perfect floor.

Ulquiorra stood in the corner with his arms crossed, staring at Ichigo with wide eyes and a bored expression. He had caught them when he was assigned to an intelligence mission to the real world.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" the deep voice drawled from above the two helpless men.

Grimmjow laughed, the noise vibrating through the empty room. "Not at all."

Moving swiftly, the fourth espada crossed the room and wrapped his hand around his comrade's throat. "Insolent fool, answer him properly."

"Or what?" Grimmjow coughed. "You gonna kill me?"

"Only if Aizen-sama permits me to."

"Then bring it on. If enjoying a good fuck is a crime, I'd be dead a million times over."

The fingers tightened, but Ulquiorra said nothing further.

"Either way, let the kid go," Grimmjow mocked, sputtering through the choke hold. "I can't say I didn't do anything short of dragging him into this unwillingly."

"Ichigo," Aizen said quietly. "Are you here unwillingly?"

"Of course."

"So everything that Ulquiorra showed me, you would count as rape?"

"Yes," Ichigo muttered with a slight hesitation.

"Even as you moaned his name and told him to move deeper?"

Red crept across the boy's cheeks as he shifted his vision back to the floor and screwed his lips shut. He could feel Grimmjow's grin seeping into his skin from across the room. The bastard didn't give two shits what happened to either of them.

"Ulquiorra," the man said with a tired voice. "Do what you want with Grimmjow but have Ichigo transferred to Szayel. I'd like to figure out what fuels his Hollow."

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

Ichigo watched helplessly as the fourth espada snapped his wrist to the side and sent Grimmjow headlong into the concrete with a sickening thud. A foot slammed down on the side of the man's face, pinning him to the cold floor as Ulquiorra pulled his zanpakutou from it's resting place.

"You gonna make me suffer?" Grimmjow asked with a grin.

"I haven't decided quite yet."

"Oi, Kurosaki. Should he make me suffer?" the man called.

"A thousand times over." Ulquiorra's stunning green eyes met chocolate for a split second as Ichigo's lips formed the words. He was certain that if the cold hearted arrancar could actually smile, he would have at that exact moment.

"You heard the boy." Without hesitation and without remorse, the scrawny man grabbed a fistful of bright blue hair and yanked skyward, exposing the thick neck covered in bruises. In one fluid motion, the sword was ripped across skin, flipped clean of blood and sheathed.

Blood poured onto the floor and soaked into the white jacket as Ulquiorra released his head and let the body slam into the concrete again. With calm, calculated steps the fourth pulled Ichigo to his feet and motioned for the boy to follow. Risking a backward glance just as he vanished from the room, the shinigami saw the pathetic body. With a smile tore across his features and his face sitting in his own blood, Grimmjow reached out. No voice came out as his lips moved, only a disgusting gurgling noise and he slowly drowned.

Ichigo knew that he would be forever tormented of that last moment they shared together. He would never know if Grimmjow had been reaching out to him, whispering his name or if he had been welcoming the devil. Not that the two were far from each other anymore.