“You kicked Freckles.”
Grimmjow blinked. “I… What?”
And then, he backed up against a wall because suddenly, Ichimaru was there, crowding against him. That freaky-ass smile on his face. What the hell was a Freckles?
“My puppy,” Ichimaru answered, and his grin widened as he leaned closer, arms trapping Grimmjow in place. “Ya kicked my dog, Grim-chan.”
On second thought, Grimmjow did remember kicking a furry creature from one side of Las Noches to the other. The damn thing wouldn’t stop barking at him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand straight. And when it barked, Grimmjow hissed, and Ulquiorra – who happened to be passing by – smirked in his usual expressionless way. Which made Grimmjow furious all over again.
And then, the damn thing had the gall to piss on him. That was when Grimmjow had kicked it. And he’d laughed like hell when it sailed far, far away. Out to the white of the desert and the cold, and he supposed that he’d never stopped to think that it might have belonged to someone. He had simply seen the small, furry nuisance and acted accordingly.
“Err… that was yours?” Grimmjow replied and suddenly could smell the faintest scent of strawberries and tea.
He felt a little meek, this close to Ichimaru. Aizen was a badass. Insanely powerful and his kind smile was enough to send shivers down Grimmjow’s spine. But there was something unpredictable about Ichimaru that made Grimmjow fear him just a bit more. Not that he’d ever admit that aloud. Aizen was strong, but Ichimaru was creepy. Thus, the reason Grimmjow usually avoided the silver-haired freak.
A hand lifted to his chin. Grimmjow grimaced away from it, though Ichimaru’s hold prevented him from going anywhere.
“Sya-chan says it’ll take weeks for poor Freckles’ leg to heal,” Ichimaru crooned at him, and there was an edge of something to his voice that didn’t bode well for Grimmjow’s safety. “I demand compensation.”
“It was the dog’s fault,” the Espada protested, squirming uncomfortably as Ichimaru pressed against him, all hard lines and angles. “It shouldn’t have pissed on me.”
Ichimaru chuckled, and for some reason, it was a terrifying sound. “What ‘m I gonna do without my pet, Grim-chan? It’s yer fault he’s all broken.”
A small bead of sweat gathered on Grimmjow’s brow because there was the tiniest trickle of reiatsu against his skin. And while Aizen’s was debilitating, rattling his legs and limbs, Ichimaru’s was breath-taking like sharp stabs against his skin. It held just a hint of malice, both promised and given.
Grimmjow swallowed thickly, belligerent response dying on his lips. He hated that he was weak enough that Ichimaru intimidated him. In fact, he really hated this former Shinigami. Aizen, he could at least grudgingly respect to a degree. Ichimaru just creeped him out.
“I’ll get you another one,” he said instead because it was as close to an apology as he could get. Even for someone like Ichimaru who could probably break him with a twitch of one finger.
“I don’t want ‘nother,” the man replied, this time with a purr. His fingers tightened on Grimmjow’s chin. “But I think I’ve found a temporary replacement. Ne, Grim-chan?”
His brow furrowed. “What are ya talkin’ ab-”
Ichimaru kissed him. Was kissing him. Ichimaru was kissing him with tongue and everything. All sinuous and snaking into his mouth as though it belonged there, and strangely enough, his faint scent matched the taste of his lips. And then, Ichimaru was grinding against him, a knee pushed against Grimmjow’s groin. Which – embarrassingly enough – was responding to the man’s embrace. It had been a while for him, after all. A natural bodily reaction.
Worse was the moan of interest that began in Grimmjow’s chest, rumbled through his throat, and rattled along Ichimaru’s tongue. Which was still in his mouth. Ichimaru’s hand was slowly creeping its way down Grimmjow’s chest and the hem of his hakama. And the embarrassing sounds working through Grimmjow’s body as his hips pushed towards those sneaky, pale fingers.
Then, someone cleared their throat.
Ichimaru took his time in ending the kiss, leaving a dazed Grimmjow pinned against the wall. That didn’t stop him from turning his head and spying his most favorite person standing there, completely bemused.
“I gave you private quarters for a reason, Gin,” Aizen stated, eyes flickering to the Espada for an instant before returning to his heir. “Please don’t molest my subordinates in the hallway.”
“Sorry, Aizen-taichou,” Ichimaru chirped cheerfully. “I was just teachin’ Grim-chan here a little lesson ’bout private property.”
Aizen’s lips quirked. And the amusement made Grimmjow both mortified and pissed off.
“So I see. I’m sure Grimmjow requires much teaching.”
And well, coming from Aizen that was pretty much permission for Ichimaru to do whatever he wished. Not that he wasn’t going to do it anyway. And Grimmjow thought that he should protest or something because this was his virtue they were so blandly discussing here with their double-meanings and such. He had every intention to do so, too. Just as soon as his legs stepped doing that rather girly shaking thing. Well, and Ichimaru stopped rubbing his palm over his groin. That was a little distracting.
“Carry on then,” Aizen said, and Grimmjow belatedly realized that he had missed part of their conversation in the midst of trying to decide whether he enjoyed Ichimaru’s touch or should attempt to flee for his life.
“Thanks, Aizen-taichou!” Ichimaru waved to the leader of Hueco Mundo, and for a minute there, Grimmjow swore that he saw sparkling hearts floating around the weirdo’s face.
Ichimaru’s attention reverted back to Grimmjow then, and there was something predatory about it. Hungry almost.
“Shall we what?” Grimmjow was almost afraid to ask.
But then, he moaned under his breath. Freak or not, Ichimaru’s hands were really talented.
“Back to my room,” Ichimaru murmured, and with a rather skillful maneuver, he dragged the Arrancar along with him. “Compensation, ‘member?”
And try as he might and with heat running through his veins, Grimmjow couldn’t remember why he was supposed to protest.