Archive of Our Own ^beta

Grimmjow was lounging near a particularly rocky portion of the shoten’s training grounds. The sand and gravel dug into his skin, but he laid in a bright spot of artificial sunlight, uncaring, cat-like. Hard, muscled limbs were splayed and vulnerable.

The entrance of the training grounds opened, and with it, Ichigo jumped down next to Grimmjow. Grimmjow’s eyes slid open, barely slits. His skin was warm, barely flushed, and he looked relaxed even once his sparring partner stood over him, blocking the warm sun.

“Tch. Move over.” Grimmjow grunts, eyes sliding closed again, effectively ignoring the Shinigami.

“Ehh? You invited me, bastard,” Ichigo retorted, eyes narrowing. He was in his Shinigami form and his hands gripped Zangestu’s dual blades in indignation. “Get up.”

“Mmmmmmmno,” Grimmjow purred, rolling onto his side and dozing neatly, his back to Ichigo. His limbs felt like warm puddles, unmoving, and liquid. He’s too comfortable to fight this afternoon. Pantera lays to the side, forgotten for the moment.

“Fine. I’ll wait upstairs.” Ichigo shifts minutely, watching Grimmjow’s form for a moment before leaving. The sun returned its delightful shine on the Arrancar’s body.

Huh. Ichigo usually puts up more of a fight than that. The fuck?

Whatever. His nap is more important. Hueco Mundo doesn’t have such a constant blazing sun anymore—not after Aizen was defeated. Harribel and her fracon decided to return the desert-scape to its original scenery. While that’s all fine and dandy, the sunlight was, after Aizen was all said and done, Grimmjow’s so-called happy place. Lounging became a newfound hobby.

Of course, if anyone asked him that, he’d gut them.

The human world was the next best thing. Grimmjow would rather not have to deal with humans or their annoying voices disturbing his daytime slumber, so the training grounds it is. The added perk of fighting an egregiously strong Shinigami-hollow-human hybrid made the trip even more worth it.

He dozed for a while, content to make Ichigo wait.

After what may have been thirty more minutes of lounging, Grimmjow slowly got up. He raised his arms above his head, fingers stretching to their absolute highest, and sighed after a few satisfying back pops.

Alright. Feeling somewhat overheated, Grimmjow was ready to leave the sun’s lovely embrace. The shoten’s main room was delightfully cool against his heated skin. Ichigo was at a low-lying table, absorbed in something inconsequential, his back turned against the Arrancar.

Grimmjow slowly padded towards the man, his irises narrowed, catlike and predatory. His footsteps were silent with intent of surprising the college student. His reiastu was undetectable. Clawed hands made for the hybrid’s throat, poised to grab.

Ichigo turned to look at Grimmjow, brown eyes incredulous. “Seriously?”

Tch.

“Figured you’d be rearin’ to rip my head off.” His hands lowered to his sides and his body straightened.

Ichigo sighed; an air of stress surrounded him. His shoulders shifted and his body faced the table again. “I’ve got work to do, and you calling me for a fight that doesn’t happen only makes my workload worse. Go back to whatever you were doing.”

Grimmjow’s mouth was downturned, frowning in confusion. The air smelled different somehow. A twang of unhappiness. A hint of frustration.

Hmm. Interesting. Whenever they’d fought before, there was a whiff of that same frustration, but it was bloodthirsty. This was different. There was a heat of another sort present.

He knelt and grabbed Ichigo’s shoulders, spinning him away from the table and the papers Ichigo was working through. There was less than an arm’s length between them. Ichigo’s thighs brushed Grimmjow’s kneeling leg.

Ichigo’s breath hitched and his palms fisted against the floor. His monstrous reiastu rose threateningly.

“What the fuck, Grimmjow?” There was that whiff of heat, a low smolder of something unnamed curled in the air. Grimmjow’s pupils dilated as he took in Ichigo—and the man’s face began to flush at the extended contact, brown eyes boring into blue. Ichigo’s eyes darted to Grimmjow’s lips, lightening fast. Grimmjow nearly missed the glance.

Nearly.

The Arrancar’s lips pulled into a knowing smirk, “you want to fight me, Shinigami?”

Brown eyes widened slightly, blanching at the close contact and the heat of the Hollow before him. He tried to move away, but strong hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him closer, inches from the Hollow’s face. Ichigo’s reiastu curled around Grimmjow’s hands invitingly, betraying the Shinigami’s expression.

“I don’t think you want that, do you? You want something else.” Grimmjow’s fingers tightened, one hand now cupping the back of Ichigo’s neck, and he leaned forwards, lips brushing against Ichigo’s jugular. His back was bowed over the Shinigami, caging Ichigo against the table.

Ichigo shuddered at the feeling of Grimmjow’s sudden closeness to his neck. He let out the smallest of moans at the contact before he clapped a hand to his mouth, stifling any other sounds.

Grimmjow licked a line against Ichigo’s throat, feeling the muscles tighten as Ichigo swallowed. The smell of arousal wafted to his nose. Grimmjow inhaled deeply, and with some amout of self-preservation, bit Ichigo’s throat, sucking a hickey into his flesh. Around his fingers, Ichigo moaned his appreciation and tilted his head back. Creamy flesh presented itself to Grimmjow’s ministrations as its owner relaxed ever-so-slightly. Ichigo’s thighs parted.

In a smooth, sudden movement, Grimmjow pulled Ichigo towards the nearest cushion he could find. Conveniently, a futon was located on the other side of the room. What for? Who cares. He dismissed the thought.

Ichigo landed on his back and Grimmjow smushed his weight on top of the hybrid, mouthing at his neck. Ichigo felt himself begin to stiffen and squirmed under Grimmjow. Grimmjow, the bastard, took that as permission to rock his hips against Ichigo’s, rutting smoothly against him.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ichigo breathed quietly, his hands grasping at the futon beneath him. What was he doing? Sure, he was getting a bit stressed with university, but that had never meant he’d be on his way to pound-town with a cat-man. Goddammit! Grimmjow sucked particularly hard, and Ichigo felt his eyes roll upwards slightly. He inhaled sharply and a spike of want drifted to his groin.

Grimmjow hummed appreciatively; he could feel the man’s coiled strength beneath him, about to fight his way to the top. As if that would ever happen. Grimmjow shifted and smashed his lips against Ichigo’s in a searing kiss. A throb of pleasure went down his belly, and he began to palm Ichigo’s hardening length. Another stifled moan came from the man. Ichigo’s hips lifted traitorously into Grimmjow’s hand, rubbing his dick across the Arrancar’s palm.

“Mmmf,” Ichigo moaned, tongue dancing against Grimmjow’s. The slick slide of wet heat only made his dick pulse with want. For a ruthless hollow, Grimmjow was a sinfully good kisser. Fuck. This was happening, and that was ok. Ichigo’s hands slid into Grimmjow’s hair, brushing his jawbone, digging into his skull. All the while, lewd noises sounded in the room.

Ichigo ripped his mouth from Grimmjows, eyes wide. “What about Geta-boshi and everyone that lives here?” he stammered, breathless.

“Don’t care.” Grimmjow continued to ravish Ichigo’s mouth, sucking his tongue and biting just hard enough to not draw blood. Grimmjow moved his hands to slide up Ichigo’s uniform and untie his hakama, slowly, teasingly. His fingers made little dents in the fabric as he felt the hard planes of Ichigo’s abdomen. The muscles there tensed as his hands moved lower once more. Ichigo’s dick twitched at the motion.

The fabric was pulled aside and lowered to the floor, leaving Ichigo’s chest bare. The Arrancar made his way from the hybrid’s mouth down to his chest. He left reddish claiming marks on Ichigo’s skin. This was his Shinigami for the moment. As Grimmjow neared Ichigo’s nipples, he growled in pleasure; his hands moved appreciatively along Ichigo’s flanks, rubbing and grasping the toned flesh. Ichigo gasped as Grimmjow took a nipple into his mouth and began to nibble, teasing the nub between his tongue and teeth. He arched into Grimmjow’s mouth, and his hands grasped blue hair warningly.

“Don’t even think about biting it off, bastard,” he growled, face red and eyes narrowed in lust.

Grimmjow huffed but said nothing, continuing to worship Ichigo’s body. The cool air from Grimmjow’s breath made Ichigo’s nipple stiffen. The hollow’s tongue laved the newly pert nipple, breathing in the scent of Ichigo’s growing arousal. Ichigo felt spikes of white-hot liquid pleasure course through his body, his dick began to ache with longing.

“Ahh,” Ichigo moaned quietly. He writhed with impatience.

“Let me hear you,” Grimmjow’s voice was gruff, commanding. He continued moving lower, biting Ichigo’s abs and leaving more red marks. Grimmjow’s growing arousal was making itself known. Every little sound from the Shinigami made him desire the man; he could feel his blood rising, moving to his considerable girth. He adjusted himself in his jumpsuit before pulling aside Ichigo’s uniform that still covered his lower half. Stupid fabric.

Grimmjow leaned back on his heels, looking at the Shinigami’s exposed form. Ichigo’s hands fell to his sides. He wanted to cover his body, yet he was too stubborn to let Grimmjow think he was self-conscious. He worked hard for these muscles, goddammit.

Red marks covered Ichigo from neck to navel; his skin was flushed a pretty pink; there was a light coating of sweat beading on his chest. Ichigo’s uncovered member stood proudly at Grimmjow’s gaze. It sat beneath a bed of dark orange curls. His dick looked strained, and a bead of fluid gathered at the head.

Grimmjow moved to unzip his jumpsuit, pushing the offending fabric off his shoulders to the floor. He, too, was getting warm at the sight of the hybrid. He kept the pants on, for now. Cat-like, Grimmjow settled between Ichigo’s legs and lowered himself to the man’s dick. Ichigo watched, cock twitching in anticipation. Grimmjow’s tongue flicked out and kitten-licked the bulbous head. Another. And another. And another, torturously. Salty pre-come spread on his tongue and he sucked he head into his mouth—finally! Ichigo gasped, throwing his head back against the futon, fingers grasping at nothing. Head bobbing, the Arrancar sucked Ichigo’s length. His tongue slid into a wet rhythm against the appendage. Teeth lightly grazed Ichigo’s dick as Grimmjow’s head moved languidly.

Moans filtered throughout the room along with the filthy, wet, sounds of a blowjob. Ichigo’s hands flew back to their place in Gimmjow’s hair, tugging the man needily. Ichigo’s hips thrust upwards slightly, pushing his now straining dick down Grimmjow’s throat. It was tight, fuck it was tight. Ichigo’s eyes scrunched in pleasure, mouth agape, and breathed heavily while Grimmjow let him fuck his mouth.

The Arrancar seemed to like it. He made soft sounds around Ichigo’s dick, nearly purring. Grimmjow focused his energy towards the head again, licking around Ichigo’s slit, tongue dipping inside for a moment. He rubbed himself against the floor, getting impatient.

Suddenly, Grimmjow relinquished Ichigo’s dick with a wet pop. Spit lined his lips. Ichigo thrust upwards again and whined at the loss of sensation. Grimmjow smirked at the man.
“I’m gonna fuck you, berry boy,” he purred, moving to bite the inside of Ichigo’s thighs. Ichigo groaned at the thought and the bite. “I’m gonna fuck you real good. Look at you, practically begging already.”

Ichigo turned his head sideways, embarrassed at his words. Grimmjow was right. His dick, still covered in spit, twitched again. Another bead of pre-come crowned the head. He wanted to smear it on Grimmjow’s lips.

“Then get on with it,” Ichigo breathed.

“Nah, not yet.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened and he turned his head, facing Grimmjow with an expression of indignation. Grimmjow swiftly took one of Ichigo’s balls into his mouth, sucking the organ gently, before the hybrid could bite out a reply. Ichigo quieted at the sensation; his legs moved minutely. Grimmjow’s tongue licked another wet stripe up Ichigo’s balls and the full length of his dick. His fingers grasped the Shinigami’s member and gave an experimental tug. Up and down, up and down, in a smooth, practiced motion. Ichigo let out a loud moan at the feeling, toes curling.

“Fuck, yes. Keep going, yes, yes!”

“Oho? Like that doncha?” Grimmjow’s hand sped up, taking time to grasp the head and rub it mercilessly.

“Ahh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Ichigo was sensitive as hell, Grimmjow thought. He smiled, all teeth. He continued to move his hand up and down the hybrid’s dick. Ichigo opened his eyes and watched as Grimmjow’s mouth made a curious motion. Grimmjow leaned down and spit on Ichigo’s flushed dick, wetting his hand even more. Shit that was hot. Ichigo thrust upwards again, chasing the friction of Grimmjow’s motions. Everything felt wet and tight and warm. Too good, too fast.

Grimmjow must have noticed Ichigo careening towards the finish because his hand slowed to a halt. His fingers moved feather-light over a vein on Ichigo’s dick. The man twitched underneath him, panting slightly. Ichigo’s eyes had a gold sheen to them, unlike their normal chocolate brown. Ichigo’s mouth was parted, dazed.

“If I had known you were this sensitive, I’d have done this ages ago.” Grimmjow spoke, mostly to himself. He moved his hands across Ichigo’s muscular thighs, the flesh parting for him. He left little red lines on Ichigo’s skin amongst scars from past battles.

“On your knees,” he commanded.

Ichigo processed the words, mouth a determined line. He pushed himself up almost eagerly. His dick bounced against his stomach, leaving a line of pre-come from his cock to his abs. Grimmjow’s mouth watered, and his tongue swept across his teeth. Languidly, Ichigo folded his legs underneath himself and turned. His thighs bunched, shoulders stretched, and back straightened as he moved to his knees. Who would have thought he was so good at taking directions?

“Good boy,” Grimmjow purred. Ichigo started at the words, looking back at Grimmjow’s waiting form. He felt himself harden minutely more, if that was even possible. Ichigo felt vulnerable, exposed to the air. His shoulders were tense and his eyes narrowed.

“Stay still for me,” the Arrancar shifted again, his hands taking Ichigo’s cheeks and squeezing. He parted Ichigo’s flesh, further exposing the man. Ichigo shivered at the feeling and dropped his head. Grimmjow mouthed at Ichigo’s butt, the strong muscles tensed under him. Ichigo subconsciously pushed back onto Grimmjow’s face, wanting more. Grimmjow’s hands squeezed and moved, exploring Ichigo’s body. He made his way to Ichigo’s crack, fingers once again grasping at the flesh and parting even more. He watched as Ichigo’s hole puckered and clenched. He gathered saliva to the front of his mouth and spit on the hole. Ichigo bucked forwards in surprise.

“FUCK!” he exclaimed.

Grimmjow hummed and sealed his lips over the now spit-covered hole. His tongue moved around the rim of muscle, licking wetly. The muscle spasmed for him, and Ichigo moaned wantonly at the feeling of Grimmjow’s tongue dipping into his entrance, licking his way inside. Ichigo closed his eyes at the onslaught of sensation and focused on Grimmjow’s methodical tongue fucking his way into Ichigo’s ass. His fingers gripped the futon beneath him, and he spread his knees even wider.

One of Grimmjow’s hand smoothed reassuringly over Ichigo’s lower back, prompting Ichigo to lean his head and chest down to the floor. His legs moved ever wider, trying to prompt Grimmjow to do more. He began moving on Grimmjow’s tongue in earnest, fucking himself on the hollow’s face. Grimmjow, for all his aggression, was surprisingly tame at his act.

The Arrancar moaned at the feeling of Ichigo’s walls fluttering against his tongue. He thrust in as deep as he could, covering the hybrid’s insides with slick saliva. His other hand took himself and began to palm his neglected length. Grimmjow’s hips stuttered forwards slightly, wanting more than his own familiar hand. As Grimmjow moaned, Ichigo felt the vibrations and cried out, whining, and itching for more. The hand on Ichigo’s back snaked up his torso and entered Ichigo’s mouth. Ichigo sucked on the digits, growling in need. Grimmjow’s fingers went deep into Ichigo’s throat before retreating with strands of spit connecting to the hybrid’s lips. Ichigo dazedly watched them wander back to his ass.

Grimmjow replaced his tongue with a long, spit-soaked finger. He pushed into Ichigo’s warmth and relished in the lingering moan afterwards.

“Uuughh,” Ichigo intoned, the sound carrying across the room.

“Mmm hmm, baby keep talking to me,” Grimmjow encouraged, finger going deeper into Ichigo’s ass.

“Fffuck you,” the ginger moaned, hole clenching around the finger. He breathed heavily, adjusting to Grimmjow’s intrusion, his arm’s pillowed underneath his face. The wet slide of Grimmjow’s finger resounded lewdly. Grimmjow crooked his finger, searching for Ichigo’s prostate. He petted Ichigo’s walls until he found the bundle of nerves.

“Haahh haahhn nn, ssshiit,” Ichigo wailed ineligibly, body pushing back on the finger probing his most sensitive areas.

“Hn good boy Ichigo, good boy. Keep those pretty moans coming,” Grimmjow growled.

He pulled his finger away and out of Ichigo before sliding two fingers back inside. His eyes flashed as he watched Ichigo take those fingers into his ass, greedily. They squelched and rubbed against Ichigo perfectly. Ichigo could barely think, could barely concentrate on the white-hot digits inside of him; his dick swayed with each push against Grimmjow’s fingers. He dripped pre-come on the futon, uncaring of the filth.

“Grimmjow please more, pleasepleaseplease,” he groaned, beside himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, please keep touching me like that, Ichigo thought, hips rutting into nothing.

He began to reach one hand downwards, intent on capturing his aching member. Grimmjow’s hand stopped him before he could get more than a brush of fingertips on the head of his dick. “Ahh hahh please let me touch myself,” Ichigo moaned pathetically.

“I’ll be doing the touching, Shinigami,” Grimmjow growled, fingers digging into Ichigo’s wrist. “You just focus on my fingers.” Goddamit the hybrid was damn-near rioting for an orgasm. He’d have to wait, the needy fucker.

Grimmjow removed his fingers again, sucking on them and adding even more spit to the wet digits before plunging three fingers inside Ichigo. The hybrid groaned at the stretch.

“You take my fingers like you were made for me, berry. I’ll fill you up so good that you’ll come crawling back for my dick. I’ll breed you until you’re bursting with my cubs,” Grimmjow babbled, getting caught up in Ichigo’s wet heat. He added a fourth finger, scissoring and stretching the flesh, hand pounding a near-punishing rhythm into Ichigo’s ass. Ichigo moaned nonsensically at the words and could only bare his ass even more, spread his legs even further.

“Please fuck mee, please please I can’t wait even more,” he bit out, vowels lengthening and slurred as he was helpless to Grimmjow’s onslaught.

Grimmjow’s fingers brushed Ichigo’s prostate once more, causing him to shout in pleasure. His fingers retreated, catching at the rim for a moment. At this point, his jumpsuit had been on for far too long. His dick ached for the other man’s heat and he tore himself out of the garment. Ichigo looked over his sweat-lathed shoulder at Grimmjow, his eyes now truly gold. He watched as Grimmjow stoked his considerable length, once, twice, before lining himself up to Ichigo’s entrance. The hole fluttered in anticipation, an angry red and slightly agape. Grimmjow could see Ichigo’s dick swaying and leaking a steady drip of pre-come. He swiped at it and brought the finger to his mouth, tasting the salty liquid. He savored the flavor and how Ichigo’s breath hitched at the sight.

“Grimmjow…” Ichigo closed his golden eyes and pushed himself towards the man’s length, catching the head on his rim. Grimmjow inched forwards, pressing himself inside Ichigo’s body with little fanfare. He rumbled deep in his chest as he sunk into Ichigo’s entrance, feeling the walls tighten around him enticingly. He stopped after a few inches, letting Ichigo adjust.

“Shit, you’re tight, berry,” he breathed, hands pressing down on Ichigo’s hips, fingers tightening to a bruising grip as he restrained himself. He’d like nothing more than to fuck mindlessly into the hybrid’s heat. He barely moved, thrusting in and out in tiny motions, watching as Ichigo squirmed underneath him.

“Mmm take my cock just like that,” he grunted, fucking Ichigo in tight movements. Ichigo spasmed on his dick, muscles rippling as he struggled to keep still.

He could hear Zangestu in the back of his mind: “oho king, take that kitty cock and make him ours.” The two-toned warble crooned possessively.

Okay then. At least they were on the same page. Ichigo began pressing back impatiently, fucking himself on Grimmjow’s cock and feeling the length inside him move deliciously.

He groaned at the sounds of Grimmjow’s panting and the dick squelching in and out of him.

The rhythm picked up, Grimmjow doing his best to fuck his way to Ichigo’s stomach, thrusts glancing Ichigo’s prostate occasionally. Ichigo’s vision contained little white starbursts of pleasure. Ichigo tired of being smushed on the floor. He wanted to bite and feel Grimmjow’s body. Ichigo pulled off of Grimmjow’s dick and twisted to face him. Even knowing that he was about the be empty of that glorious cock, he still whined at the loss of fullness, an animalistic sound.

Black and gold eyes stared into blue as Ichigo tackled Grimmjow to the floor. He straddled the panther Arrancar, relishing the feeling of being on top. Grimmjow rubbed his cock between Ichigo’s cheeks, the appendage flushed an angry red and weeping. Ichigo leaned down and with sharp teeth, bit Grimmjow’s neck. He licked and groaned at the taste of the hollow’s skin. Fucking finally. He’s wanted to do that ever since he saw the man lazing in the sun. Grimmjow’s clawed hands grabbed Ichigo’s hips, digging divots into the muscles as he growled in annoyance at the change in position.

“Who’s bitin things now, huh?” he grumbled. His hips bucked upwards, trying to catch Ichigo’s entrance. He liked this—more than he’d thought. Ichigo’s reiastu took a distinctly hollow turn, black and red swirling like shadows on his skin, flicking across Grimmjow possessively.

Ichigo only bit and sucked more in reply before he sank onto Grimmjow’s length once more.

“Nnnnghh,” they moaned in tandem. Feeling each other. Ichigo began to move, impaling himself on Grimmjow’s cock, squeezing in all the right places. Grimmjow hissed through his teeth, his dick was punishingly tight. Their rhythm quickened and Ichigo moved up and leaned back, taking in the Arrancar’s considerable length wholeheartedly. Grimmjow’s hands were on Ichigo’s hips as he fucked up into the hybrid’s wet heat, teeth biting his lower lip in pleasure.

Ichigo’s dick strained for friction, begging to be touched. Grimmjow, the knowing bastard, removed a hand from Ichigo’s hips and grasped the appendage, wrist moving in time with his thrusts. Each time Grimmjow’s dick struck Ichigo’s prostate, his hand moved towards the head, squeezing the tip; Ichigo saw stars. His reiastu slid across his skin, straining to claim and surround their conjoined bodies. Sweat slicked their skin, the room’s atmosphere was dense and heavy, smelling of sex.

Grimmjow’s other hand reached to clench one of Ichigo’s nipples briefly before running down his side. The man arched at the touch, his spine bending, and his ass clenching around Grimmjow’s dick. Sparks of electricity went to Ichigo’s dick and pulsed in time with their movements. Grimmjow growled as he felt Ichigo’s walls flutter around his cock and thrust even deeper, timing his hand with his hips.

“Getting close huhh, berry? I can feel you. Ahh hahh… you feel good?” he panted. “Come on this cock, baby, let me feel you.”

Ichigo’s black and gold eyes were closed, his head tilted back as he rode Grimmjow. His body tensed, and Grimmjow’s dick drove into his prostate. Waves of pleasure encompassed the hybrid. He clamped down on Grimmjow and came with a roar, cum spurting and streaking across his stomach. Grimmjow fucked him through his orgasm, feeling Ichigo’s walls clench in time with his cock pulsing. The Arrancar’s hand was covered in the white liquid, dribbling down his wrist and dripping onto his abs.

Grimmjow kept thrusting through the aftershocks; Ichigo’s body relaxed as he perched on the hollow’s hips, the panther’s hard length still inside him. Grimmjow allowed Ichigo to rock his own rhythm on his dick, his vision darkening as he closed his eyes and let Ichigo ride him slowly. He brought his come-covered hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean, tasting the other man. Ichigo groaned weakly at the sight.

Grimmjow opened his eyes and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He thrust deeply, his cock grinding against Ichigo’s prostate, causing the hybrid to shudder in overstimulation.

“Mmmmmfuuuckgrimmjowahhh,” the hybrid panted, acceptingly. Hearing the man, Grimmjow opened his mouth and sank his teeth in the spot where Ichigo’s neck met his shoulder.

“Mmmff,” he growled, nose scrunching, hands clawing at Ichigo’s back, and came. His orgasm thundered through him, he fucked Ichigo tightly, barely moving as cum coated the hybrid’s insides. They stayed like that for a moment, Grimmjow’s teeth gripping Ichigo’s shoulder and hands wrapped around each other, breathing heavily.

Grimmjow’s jaw unlatched from the Shinigami, and he fell back, taking Ichigo down to the floor with him.

The change in position caused cum to leak out of Ichigo’s ass in a warm slide. Ichigo shuddered. Grimmjow slowly pulled out, like he didn’t want to leave.

Ichigo laid on Grimmjow’s chest, taking a moment to process everything. Grimmjow noticed the frustrated scent was gone, replaced with a sleepy, sated smell.

The hybrid mouthed at Grimmjow’s neck absentmindedly, little kisses that made both of them sigh. Their limbs were rubbery, pliant, and comforting. Ichigo’s weight was heavy and warm.

“How’d you know?” Ichigo asked quietly.

“A feeling. Doesn’t matter.”

“Tch.”

“Come to me next time you want to fight or fuck.”

A sigh. “Mmkay,” Ichigo responded sleepily.

They shifted together, their limbs sliding against each other. The sun slanted in the room, encasing them in a bright beam. Toasty. They should probably clean up, Ichigo mused.

He moved to grab a strip of Grimmjow’s discarded jumpsuit. Heh. He wiped the mess away while Grimmjow lounged in the sunbeam. Then he laid his head back on Grimmjow’s chest and dozed.

Grimmjow and Ichigo both left a while after that.

Urahara walked into the shoten’s main room. The surroundings looked rumpled. The window was open, the evening sunset distant. Hm. Curious.

He looked over at the table and noticed some discarded papers.

“Oh. Kurosaki-kun left his homework.”