I don't own Bleach or its characters. Hiya all! OMG, so this was supposed to be uploaded by the New Year. Well, nearly 2 weeks later, here is your gift for the New Year! Happy 2018 everyone, and thank you for your continued support and encouragement! Please forgive any typos...a lot of this was written while I was working 3rd shift and trying to remain awake, lol!

New York City Nights

"I am going to kill you."

Shinji stared at Ichigo in mock horror, dramatically gasping and clutching a hand to his heart.

"I'm serious, Shinji, like a heart attack. I'm going to eviscerate you and use your intestines to decorate the Christmas tree in the dorm."

"Tell me more," purred Shinji, "I love it when you talk to dirty to me!"

Ichigo socked him hard in the shoulder, making the blonde yelp.

"Damnit Ichigo! Don't bruise the merchandise, I have a show coming up! And that's domestic violence, you sexy piece of shit, I always knew I was too good for you!"

"I hate you so much right now," Ichigo sulked.

They continued to tramp across campus, boots crunching through the snow lined sidewalks, bodies bundled in down lined parkas, the fur lined hoods pulled up over stocking caps. They walked hunched against the biting wind that slashed at the exposed skin on their faces and made their eyes water from the force of the sting. They were heading from their last club meetings before the Christmas holiday back to the blessed warmth of their too cramped dorm room they shared.

Ichigo hated winter. Snow was beautiful to look at. Its beauty was its only redeeming quality. Everything else about winter in New York City sucked if you had to leave the warmth and security of the indoors. He longed to be home in Japan with his family where the weather did not dip below 40 degrees and it virtually never snowed. Today it was a frigid 10 degrees with a gnashing wind and snow mix. Every second he spent in it made him miserable.

He had every reason to despair now that Shinji just told him that he volunteered Ichigo to be a willing participant in his club's fundraising shenanigans. Shinji was studying fashion and design. He was the president of the Runway Club, a group of people who competed all over the state at fashion shows. To raise money for their traveling expenses, Shinji had devised some new schemes and roped his sorry carcass into it.

Just moments ago, Shinji informed him that he would be working a kissing booth. It would be all dolled up to look like a gingerbread house. Participants would pay $5 to kiss his cheek and he would kiss theirs. For $10 they could commemorate it with a photo. The idea of strangers kissing his face and him kissing theirs was infuriating enough- Ichigo was an introvert and not into women. He decided it was a worthy enough cause and he would do it because Shinji was his best friend and life line. It didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Too bad for Ichigo, Shinji's excited informative rambling did not stop there. Later that night, the club would host an auction. A date auction. Shinji signed Ichigo up to be auctioned off to go on a date with a stranger. That was really stretching best friend privileges in Ichigo's book. There was nothing short of getting hit by a bus that was going to get him out of this, and even then, Shinji would still drag his wheel chair bound ass up on a stage and auction off Ichigo in a neck brace and IV pole without thinking twice. It was Shinji after all.

Ichigo begrudgingly accepted his fate as they scrambled into the shelter of the red brick building labeled Ravenwood A. They climbed the stairs to their room, 15 A, and Shinji keyed them in since he got there first. They left their boots out in hall to dry on a special mat their resident advisor had gifted everyone for Christmas. No one wanted puddles in their room. Shinji worried at first about leaving his boots out in case someone stole them. Ichigo assured him most of the people in their building were friendly and mature enough not to do something like that and if they did, he had no qualms about kicking ass now and taking names later.

Shinji flung himself on his bed once he shed his winter gear, which landed haphazardly over his desk chair, nonchalantly picking up the thick volume of the Vogue magazine he had left there earlier, paging through it with half-hearted interest while Ichigo hung his coat up in the tiny built in closet on his side of the room. Shinji wisely waited for Ichigo to settle on his own bed, sinking into his pillows and reaching for his laptop, before dropping the bomb, knowing full well Ichigo would not use his own laptop as a murder weapon.

"I made sure to explicitly seek out and invite Jagerjaquez," he said facetiously, peering just over the top edge of his magazine to watch his friend's reaction.

Ichigo's hand froze in its mission to grab the computer. Ever so slowly, he turned his head full of blazing orange locks and pinned Shinji in his scowling, honey colored gaze.

"What?"

Shinji considered his options…play dumb, or poke the bear? Both were fun to do, but fuck it, he loved to live dangerously.

"Yeah, Jagerjaquez. You know, that hunk of a guy painter that you get a hard on for every Tuesday and Thursday when you tutor him in the writing lab? Big muscles, eyes like a glacier, hair the color of the Caribbean, I believe were all the accurate descriptions you gave me. Good job, by the way, I can see why you want to be an author. Meeting him in person was easy when I already knew what he looked like!"

"Why would you do that?" Ichigo demanded, pushing down the urge to smother Shinji with his own stupid bed pillows. Would anyone see the humor in death by poop emoji pillow? It seemed fitting to Ichigo as Shinji was a little shit himself.

"Because, Ichigo, you will spend your entire college career beating off in the showers if I don't push you into action! You are depressing me with all your pent up sexual tension over there. It's coming off you in waves."

It was quite for a few moments while Ichigo contemplated what his life in prison would be like while Shinji happily returned to his magazine, dog earing pages that brought him some sort of inspiration. His grin nearly split his face in two when Ichigo finally timidly asked, "Well, what did he say?"

"He said he'd definitely come check it out."

Ichigo thought he was going to be sick.

The day of the kissing booth arrived, and Ichigo went out of his way with guilt tripping Shinji into suppling him with all the creature comforts the orange head could possibly want to get the scowl off his face so he would look more appealing to those who would be foolish enough to pay $5 to kiss him. Shinji bought him breakfast at his favorite coffee shop, left him two pounds of his favorite candy on his pillow, went out in the cold to get the books that Ichigo had on hold at the library, and folded his laundry. Shinji even mostly cleaned his side of the dorm, which was usually in a state of disarray and drove Ichigo, who was fastidiously tidy, insane just looking at it.

So Ichigo sucked it up and smiled brightly in the booth, letting Shinji's infectious holiday spirit guide him in getting through the two hours the booth was open. Ichigo did not think they would be super successful in making a lot of money, at least not from his booth. Boy he was wrong.

Apparently, there were tons of girls, and a couple of guys, who had noticed Ichigo around campus and were vying for their chance to kiss him. Ichigo good naturedly humored them all, soothing the severely shy and grinning and bearing the rather enthusiastic ones. It was a little creepy to him how many people walked away with pictures of kissing him or being kissed by him, but what could he do?

Shinji came around with a steaming cup of hot chocolate for him when there was fifteen minutes left and all the crowds were gone.

"So, Big Blue didn't show, huh? He must be waiting for the auction," he said, waggling his eyebrows while handing Ichigo the hot liquid.

"If I didn't love you so much, I'd melt your face off with this," Ichigo threatened with no real heat in his voice. He accepted the drink and happily inhaled the scent, letting the heat seep through the Styrofoam cup and into his hands. He blew into the little hole to cool it enough so he could sip it.

"Ichigo, if you hadn't made me so much money today, I'd lock you out of the dorm to sleep in the hallway like the bum you are. Someday you will be sorry for how you take your darling for granted!"

Ichigo snorted and sipped the chocolate, groaning in delight as the strong sweet flavor danced over his taste buds.

"Well, if you are going to make noises like that, maybe I'll reconsider locking you out," Shinji said cheekily.

"If he makes noises like that, he can stay the night with me, Blondie," a low voice said from behind Shinji, who's eyebrows shot up. He shot an evil grin at Ichigo, who suddenly paled a few shades, his brown eyes going wide.

Shinji spun around and assessed Grimmjow with a cool gaze.

"Well, how can we help you, you tall drink of water?"

Grimmjow just smirked, his head tipping in the direction of the price sign.

"Says $5 for a kiss. If I drop a 50, that means I get 10 kisses, yeah?"

Ichigo could feel his entire face go red, the flush spreading to his ears and down the back of his neck. He took in more of his chocolate drink just to have something to do and to not look at Grimmjow.

"Well, I do believe you've done your math correctly, handsome," Shinji purred, holding his hand out. Grimmjow pressed the money into his palm and Shinji was all smiles.

"He's all yours, tiger!"

As Shinji sashayed away, Ichigo couldn't help but feel like he'd done a deal with the devil. He chanced a look at Grimmjow, who grinned.

"Ya tired of sittin' in this booth? Wanna take a walk?"

"Sure," Ichigo deadpanned, mentally face palming. Way to sound intelligent, dumbass.

Grimmjow didn't seem to mind, though, and Ichigo abandoned his post and hot chocolate to walk with Grimmjow away from the booth. They were at the far end of the second-floor conference room in the Hub, the student building that was used for hanging out on campus. There were a few different restaurants, a movie room, various pool and foosball tables, and an arcade on the first floor. On the second floor, there was the large conference room, and the rest of the area was various couches, tables, and booths for studying. Lots of students used this space for group projects or just another place that wasn't their dorm or library to study.

Grimmjow led him out of the conference room and through the study area. He chose an alcove in the large windows that was padded for students to sit on. He sat down and pulled himself so right leg was up and his left leg was tucked under him. It struck Ichigo as such an odd way for someone so tall to sit, used to seeing Grimmjow sitting across from him at a table in a chair.

Ichigo sat next to him, conscious of the small space and the way his thigh pressed into Grimmjow's. They sat quietly together for a few moments, Ichigo looking everywhere but at Grimmjow. He didn't really know what to say.

Grimmjow, however, had no problems with talking it seemed, but chose to do so in a manner that made Ichigo flush. He leaned right over so he was just inches from Ichigo's ear and whispered low.

"Is it okay if I collect those kisses now?"

Heat rushed in waves from the way Grimmjow's warm breath caressed his ear and salacious tone assaulted his libido. He bit his lip and nodded, still refusing to look at Grimmjow. He might embarrass himself if he looked at the other man right now, by dying from blood loss from his nose, or maybe from all his blood flooding to his dick, which was becoming rather interested in this turn of events.

Ichigo could just feel Grimmjow's smirk as the larger man shifted next to him, putting his legs back to the floor and sliding closer so their bodies were cemented together without a wisp of air between them.

"You keep count, beautiful, cuz' I don't know that I can be trusted ta keep ta the ten I paid for."

A shudder ran down Ichigo's spine at those words and Grimmjow gave him no time to recover before swooping in and laying a kiss in the middle of Ichigo's right cheek. He trailed just millimeters from the first and laid a second, repeating the pattern with the third. The fourth and fifth were laid on his jaw line. The sixth ghosted over his ear lobe, and Ichigo dug his fingernails into the fabric of the cushion.

"What numba we at, darlin'?"

"Six," Ichigo choked out, noticing how heavy Grimmjow's Brooklyn accent was getting and how much it was affecting him in combination with the kissing.

"Hmm, betta make the rest count," Grimmjow rasped in his ear before trailing two more kisses down his neck. Kiss nine went on the side of his Adam's apple, and kiss ten was placed teasingly on the corner of Ichigo's mouth. Ichigo swallowed hard, his arousal demanding in his pants and his body vibrating with tension. The knowledge that this was over made Ichigo want to cry.

Grimmjow backed off a little, and they both took a few much needed, steadying breaths. Ichigo suddenly turned to Grimmjow, who's eyebrow arched at his newfound boldness, when he'd been so shy earlier he couldn't look the man's way.

"I believe I owe you ten kisses in return," Ichigo said with a smirk, watching as Grimmjow's eyes narrowed and he grinned.

"I believe your right."

"Great, well, I have to be getting back to help Shinji and his crew clean up, so I'm going to make it quick, ok?"

"Okay," Grimmjow replied, seeming a little put out.

Ichigo surged up right into Grimmjow's space, throwing him off guard. He tangled his hands in Grimmjow's blue tresses and yanked the man's mouth to his. Grimmjow was so shocked that he gasped on contact, giving Ichigo the in he needed to plunder his mouth. Ichigo poured himself into making the kiss hot, fast, and demanding, quickly mapping out the other's mouth. It was teeth and the wet glide of tongues and small nips to the overly sensitive lips. Just when Grimmjow began giving back as good as he was getting, Ichigo pulled away quickly before he could dominate the kiss.

They were both panting with eyes blown wide with lust. Ichigo forced himself away from Grimmjow and stood up.

"Well, I have to get back now. I hope to see you later," he added saucily.

Grimmjow watched him walk away, a predatory gleam in his eye and a devilish grin on his face.

"Ichigo, you dog, what did you just get up to!?" Shinji gasped, taking in Ichigo's appearance when he came back. Ichigo knew he was flushed, and his lips were swollen and red from the bruising force and demanding pace he used to kiss Grimmjow with. He just smiled at Shinji.

"I don't kiss and tell," he said archly.

"That's not fair!" whined Shinji, wanting all the dirty details.

"And so, life goes on," replied Ichigo, enjoying depriving Shinji of his freak out moment, but knowing full well he'd tell his friend, mostly, about what happened later in the dorm.

Later, Ichigo found himself standing backstage in the same conference room where Shinji and his crew had been busy all day erecting a stage for the auction. He peeked out from behind the heavy velvet curtains and looked at all the people seated in the rows of chairs the crew had procured from the college. His hand fussed through his hair, tossing his tresses into a messy heap of orange spikes that made him look like he'd just been thoroughly ravished.

Shinji had told him to just be himself, so he didn't go out of his way to dress up. He wore gray skinny jeans that had been artfully slashed with a razor before he bought them and a tight, black V-neck t-shirt. He had on his old black converses, preferring them to other shoes because they were perfectly broken in. He didn't feel he looked all that special; he was expecting to be very embarrassed at the low amount he was going to earn Shinji for this date.

The guy in front of him secured a date for $150 and Shinji had him exit stage right. Shinji was calling his name into the microphone and Ichigo strolled out into the bright lights to join his friend. Shinji was reading from a card that listed some things about Ichigo; he was going to school to become an author, he liked to draw, workout, practiced Kendo, and liked EDM music. Shinji started the bidding at $20.

Shocked, Ichigo watched as cards began flying up, girls blushing hard and battling it out with each other to get a date with Ichigo. The bidding wars started wavering off at the $200 mark, with the final bid of $225 and it didn't look like anybody else was going to challenge the girl with long orange hair and a very large bosom who was blushing madly and looking hopefully at Ichigo. He recognized her from some of his classes.

"$225, going once, going twice," Shinji called into the microphone, scanning the crowd for any other potential bidders. He saw no one else and picked up his gavel, which of course he decorated with white and pink rhinestones, to finalize the deal.

"$500!", called out a gruff voice from the very back of the room. Shinji gasped and the girl who almost won looked like she was going to burst into tears.

Ichigo's heart stopped in his chest. He strained his eyes and could make out Grimmjow's smirking form in the back, leaning against the door jamb nonchalantly like he didn't just offer up a fortune to take a guy on a date.

Shinji recovered quickly.

$500, going once, twice, and sold!"

He banged his spangled gavel.

"Please exit stage right, Ichigo, and meet your date!"

Ichigo did not miss the shit eating grin that Shinji wore, but he was too busy trying to remember how to put one foot in front of the other. His knees felt weak and he was nervous he might collapse. He walked up to the table where the treasurer of the club, Hiyori, sat. Grimmjow sauntered up to the table and she eyed him from beneath her baseball cap.

"Pay up," she barked, holding out her hand. Grimmjow pressed the $500 in cash into her small hand. She counted it suspiciously and confirmed it was all there.

"All right, get out of here, love birds," she commanded when she confirmed all the money was there.

Grimmjow extended his arm to Ichigo, who frowned but accepted the chivalrous gesture and slid his own arm around the thickly muscled bicep.

When they made it to the stair well, Ichigo pulled back, making Grimmjow look down inquisitively.

"Grimmjow, not that I'm not extremely flattered, but that was an extreme amount of money! Really, you didn't have to do that," Ichigo said, trying to fight the blush he could feel staining his cheeks.

Grimmjow just smiled, a real smile that wasn't his typical smirk or grin and it made Ichigo's breath catch in his chest. His eyes sparkled and seemed a tad bit darker with sincerity.

"It's just money, Ichigo, and you are worth every penny."

"But," Ichigo protested, just to have Grimmjow put a finger over his lips and kill the stream of words that was about to come out of Ichigo's mouth.

"If it makes ya feel betta, my granddad left me a trust when he passed. I have more money than I could know what ta do with. So, if I wanna spend it on ya, just let me."

Ichigo just nodded and Grimmjow smiled that smile again, dropping his hand.

"How ya feel bout' ice skatin'?" he asked.

"I'd like that a lot," Ichigo answered with a small smile of his own.

Grimmjow took Ichigo to a park across town from campus. At night, everything was lit up with twinkling Christmas lights in bright colors wrapped around the bare trees and bushes, and the ice rink with hanging iridescent lights. Ichigo sat on a bench at the edge of the rink and huddled down in his down jacket. He waited for Grimmjow, who was draped in a heavy black leather jacket over his black The World Alive hoodie, to come back with two pairs of rented skates. They both toed out of their shoes and quickly jammed their feet in, lacing up the skates tight. Grimmjow stood confidently and Ichigo eyed the rink skeptically, remaining seated.

A large grin broke out on Grimmjow's face upon seeing Ichigo scowling at the frozen rink.

"Ya don't know how ta skate, do ya?" he asked, mirth twisting his tone, making him sound like a delighted 8-year-old boy who discovered his enemy's weakness.

"No," Ichigo answered obstinately, refusing to look at Grimmjow.

"Come on," Grimmjow said, grabbing Ichigo's hand and hauling him to his feet, "It's easy, I'll teach ya how."

Ichigo flushed from the feel of his hand in Grimmjow's large, warm one as he trotted gingerly behind the larger man. Ichigo braced himself against the wall while Grimmjow glided off on the ice. Ichigo watched wide eyed as Grimmjow weaved around other couples, gracefully turning and floating over the ice. After he completed one circuit around, he did a second, backwards, before coming to a clean stop in front of Ichigo, looking smug.

"Show off," quipped Ichigo, yelping when Grimmjow tugged him onto the ice and his feet nearly slipped out from under him.

Grimmjow pulled him into his side, wrapping his arm around Ichigo's waist.

"Skatin' takes years of practice, don't be embarrassed. I got ya'," he said. "Trick is you have ta bend your knees slightly, and keep the weight in the balls of your feet. Standin' too upright is what makes ya fall on your ass."

Grimmjow pushed off slowly and Ichigo clutched onto him, taking short steps next to Grimmjow.

"Keep your toes pointin' outward, there ya go," encouraged Grimmjow after their first slow circuit around and Ichigo began to glide. Grimmjow loosened his grip a bit as he felt Ichigo gain confidence bit by bit, until they could slide leisurely around the ice hand in hand.

"So, how ya liking it?" Grimmjow asked after a bit.

"It's fun…relaxing even," Ichigo said, giving Grimmjow a small smile. He returned it and Ichigo's heart stuttered in his chest.

"So, how'd you get so good at this?" Ichigo asked, arching a brow when Grimmjow spun so he was skating backwards, facing Ichigo and holding both his hands now.

"I played hockey my whole life. My dad taught me ta' skate when I was four, and got me in a league. He took off when I was seven, just deserted me and my ma'. But I kept playin', even all through high school."

"That's sad, Grimmjow, I'm sorry," Ichigo said softly, watching the other man's face. Grimmjow smiled sadly and shrugged.

"We got on without him. I guess part of me just held on ta the notion that if I was good enough at hockey, he'd come back. But once I started high school and took some art classes, I found where my passion really was. That's how I got here."

Ichigo was just staring at him in awe. He realized he was staring when Grimmjow gave him a humored grin.

"Well, your work is amazing, Grimmjow. You are a talented painter. I saw one of your paintings was featured in the case of the Student Building."

"Thanks, if it weren't for you helping me in English, I'd never be able ta maintain my GPA ta stay in the program."

"It's my job as a tutor, and writing is kinda my thing," Ichigo said casually. His face betrayed him though, lighting up with a blush from Grimmjow's compliment.

Grimmjow pulled Ichigo's arms so that Ichigo slid right up into him so they were chest to chest. He ran a gloved finger over Ichigo's cheek.

"You blush so easily."

"I do not!" Ichigo snapped indignantly, aware that his blush intensified ten-fold now that he was pressed up against his crush. Grimmjow just chuckled, steering them towards one of the exits.

"You want ta go warm up? I know a great coffee shop a few blocks over."

"Let's go," Ichigo agreed.

Ichigo peered up through the windshield of Grimmjow's Jeep as he pulled into a parking garage of a downtown high rise.

"Grimmjow, forgive me for sounding completely skeptical, but this doesn't look anything like a coffee shop."
Grimmjow smirked at Ichigo and arched a brow.

"That's cuz' it isn't one. This is where I live," he explained, guiding the Jeep around a few twists of the garage before pulling into a parking space a short distance from the elevator in the corner.

"You live off campus? You live here?"

"Grandpa, trust, remember that? Well, he bought and paid for this. And it's got a beautiful view, so it'd be a shame not ta use it. You wanna come up? I have a magnificent all-in-one coffee and expresso maker. So, I wasn't exactly lyin' about the coffee."

Ichigo stared at Grimmjow for a second before he busted out laughing.

"Wow, you've got charm, and balls, bringing me to your place like this! I have to admit, it's rather clever. I said yes to the coffee, and it better be damn good."

Grimmjow grinned and tried not to look too eager getting out of the car.

The ride in the elevator was quiet, but it was mostly comfortable even though Ichigo was kind of nervous. Grimmjow held his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. He sort of dragged Ichigo along behind him when they exited the elevator onto his floor, like an excited kid drags his favorite teddy bear behind him on Christmas morning to the tree. Grimmjow punched in a number code onto the door pad and the lock disengaged. He let Ichigo go inside first.

Ichigo stepped inside and the motion lights flickered on to light his way into the entrance way. He toed out of his Converse and left them on the rug by the door, shrugging out of his coat and handing it to Grimmjow, who hung it in the small closet to their right. Ichigo tentatively followed the misty gray polished concrete floor into Grimmjow's living space. To his immediate left after taking only five steps was the kitchen, which he paused to study. It featured white cabinets with brushed nickel finished handles. The appliances were stainless steel, the countertops white pearl marble, and the backsplash classic white subway tiles. Pot lights in the ceiling and beneath the cabinets lit the space and reflected off the surfaces.

Ichigo's eyes lingered on the fridge, looking at the photos held there by artsy magnets. Grimmjow with his arm slung over some lanky guy with a bandana folded over one eye, both flipping off the camera with shit eating grins; Grimmjow in his cap and gown in the middle of who must have been his mother, if the hair color wasn't telling, the other must have been his grandfather he spoke of, the man dressed in gray suit, fresh pressed white dress shirt and red tie. His mother was beaming and the grandfather had a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but Ichigo could see pride in his eyes. The last picture was of Grimmjow's hockey team posing with a golden trophy, a couple of the guys in front holding a banner reading state champions. Grimmjow was on the side in his gear, hair matted with sweat, joy and pride making him look years younger, his stick raised high in triumph.

"You never told me the position you played," Ichigo said as Grimmjow slid by, going over to start the complicated looking machine that was going to make him some coffee that was nestled next to the microwave on the pristine countertop.

"I played right wing, but I pretty much was your standard enforcer," Grimmjow commented, pulling coffee beans from the cupboard in front of him. He smirked at Ichigo's confused expression.

"I pretty much beat people up on the ice. Body checked them inta the boards, used my stick ta mess up their shots, hip checked them ta throw them off balance, stuff like that. I was aggressive. Got inta a fist fight on the ice once but my coach, Aizen, nearly flayed me alive, so I never let that happen again. Kid deserved it though, called my mom a whore."

Ichigo nodded his agreement.

"I got into a lot of fights myself in school. Took a lot of shit because of my hair color of all things, and then eventually I just started standing up for others getting bullied because I knew how it felt. I think the principal had my dad's number on speed dial."

Grimmjow chuckled, dumping the beans into a smaller machine that he plugged into the wall while listening to Ichigo.

"Feel free ta explore while Café Jagerjaquez opens, this next part will be noisy while I grind the beans. Nothin's off limits, I got nothin' ta hide."

Ichigo arched his brow and accepted the challenge. He stepped into the living room, gazing in awe at how the white walls climbed up a good ten feet and gorgeous exposed wooden beams ran across the ceiling, stained in a light cherry color. Grimmjow had a leather sectional couch tucked in the corner that was literally a shade or two lighter than the wood stain. There was a cream-colored area rug with a black wood ottoman with the same cherry stained top. Ichigo smirked; Grimmjow could've been an interior designer. He had impressive taste for tying everything together.

Artwork adorned the walls and Ichigo wondered how much of it was Grimmjow's work. All of it was contemporary painting, which Ichigo knew was Grimmjow's preferred style. An empty easel stood in the opposite corner of the couch with a drape cloth stained in a rainbow of paint splatters beneath it, protecting the floor. Ichigo was contemplating a cityscape abstract scene that Grimmjow had hanging above his desk when Grimmjow broke his revere.

"Ya take cream or sugar?"

"Yes, to both, two sugars please."

Grimmjow began steaming milk with his expresso machine and Ichigo's eyes sidled to the floating stairs. Grimmjow's studio apartment was a loft, and Ichigo felt his neck getting hot at the fact that those steps led to Grimmjow's bed. The loft wasn't walled in by any means, only an open railed wall that was waist high there to guard from a fall. From where he stood, he could see Grimmjow's bed. It was covered in a dark gray comforter and the headboard was white and shelved, with lots of books crammed on them. Ichigo's fingers itched to pull them out and read the titles, to know what kind of worlds of literature fascinated Grimmjow.

The smell of the coffee that Grimmjow was setting out on the counter for him drew Ichigo back to the kitchenette to sit on the opposite side of the counter from Grimmjow. The counter served as the eating space as well and Grimmjow had three barstools housed there. Ichigo thanked Grimmjow for the coffee and wrapped his hands around the coffee mug, letting the heat seep through the porcelain and into his skin. He gently blew at the rising steam while Grimmjow came over to join him.

"This is a fantastic place you've got, your grandfather really spared no expense it seems. How big is this place anyway?"

Grimmjow grinned in a shy sort of way.

"It's 1500-square feet. 900 down here and the loft's 600."

Ichigo whistled.

"Well, this place is a palace compared to the 400-square foot dorm room Shinji and I share. Seriously, dorm rooms are designed to house toddlers, not grown ass people. You are extremely fortunate to not be subjugated to those prison cells."

Grimmjow's laugh echoed through the apartment and Ichigo hid his smile of pleasure behind his coffee mug, sipping his homemade latte and groaning in appreciation.

"This is delicious! Oh my god, is that caramel in there?"

"Yeah, I skipped the sugar for flavor instead, if that's ok?"

"Hell yes, it is. I hope Café Jagerjaquez is open for business all the time, you've got yourself a repeat customer."

"My doors are always open ta ya," Grimmjow said with a genuine smile. "I worked as a barista at Starbucks in high school, so I picked up quite a few handy tricks for spicin' up a cup a' joe."

Ichigo just shook his head in amazement, taking another long dreg from his mug, the addiction to the flavor outweighing self-preservation. He slightly scalded his mouth but he couldn't care, not here in Grimmjow's apartment, their knees touching each other's beneath the counter, and talking more in the course of a day about themselves than they had in a fifteen-week semester. Weeks ago, Ichigo would've never believed this possible. He'd rethink Shinji's death.

To keep learning more about the blue haired Adonis next to him, and to indulge his kink of hearing that Brooklyn accent, Ichigo asked about the art hanging on the walls. Which was always a good topic, and score one for Ichigo as Grimmjow's eyes lit up and he gracefully spun around on the stool with his mug in hand to point and talk about the canvases.

"That one there, it's a Neo Rauch. It's called Der Rückzug, which translates ta The Retreatin German. Rauch is one of my favorite painters and biggest inspirations, which is why my grandfather purchased this for me. Since we are of German heritage, I was just drawn ta him and the way his works are characterized by their distinctive combination of figurative imagery and surrealist abstraction. The one you were looking at there, over the desk, is my work. It's more abstract than a Rauch, but you can see we have a similar contrastin' pallet style."

"And the gun?" asked Ichigo, pointing to the giant canvas of a black and red gun on the stairwell wall.

"An Andy Warhol. Those who study on him know he was fascinated with death, a lot of his art is about it. He was quoted as sayin' he thought guns were beautiful…"

Ichigo interrupted by snorting his disagreement while taking a sip of his drink.

"No really, Ichigo, think about it. They are beautiful pieces of machinery if you really look at them and their intricacies. Andy Warhol almost died by a gun, he was the victim of an assassination attempt. He made this a decade later. I like the reminder about human invention; how somethin' so intricate and artistic can be taken and used by human hands to cause insurmountable destruction. It's not guns that kill people, it's not computers that steal money from your bank account; it's the humans who create the things and use them for nefarious purpose."

"I have to agree with your point," Ichigo said after a beat. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised, he knew Grimmjow was intelligent, but experiencing it first hand was thrilling.

"The one of the chair, it's yours too, isn't it?"

"How can ya tell?" Grimmjow asked, taking a drink of his coffee, but Ichigo didn't fail to notice how the action didn't distract him from the shutter of Grimmjow's eyes.

"I can tell because the chair is brightly colored yet the room or place the chair is in is depicted in dark, opposite tones. It's in the Rauch style you like to emulate. The chair is child sized. Despite its happy colors, it's cracked."

"So, what does it mean ta ya?" Grimmjow questioned, his voice edged with something Ichigo couldn't place. Ichigo set down his mug and turned to Grimmjow, finding he had done the same. His eyes seemed colder somehow, guarded. But he asked, and Ichigo was honest.

"I can't say any of this for certain, I'm operating off assumptions since we don't know each other too well. But you did tell me earlier that your dad split when you were little after getting you into hockey, and you continued the sport more for him than yourself, even though you were good at it and enjoyed it. So, with the child sized chair and the dreary colors of the place it's in, I'm saying this painting represents the abandonment you feel because of your dad. And the crack in chair, Grimmjow, you think that something was or is wrong with you, which is why he left."

Grimmjow didn't say anything, just stared at Ichigo. So, he took a breath and soldiered on.

"Grimmjow, I tutored you for 15 weeks. Granted, all we ever talked about was academic stuff besides polite small talk, but I could see your intelligence, and your drive to achieve. Look around you at the work you've mounted on your wall, pure talent! The photo on your fridge- you were for so many years a part of a team. That's dedication and comradery. And your mother and grandfather love you and are proud of your accomplishments so far. I can see all that. The shit eating smirk, your charm and cleverness, I see everything. I see you. And even before I saw the real you, I knew and could feel that I wanted to, beyond physical attraction."

The next moments happened so fast Ichigo wasn't even sure what was going on. After his heart-felt, caffeine induced, embarrassing speech, Grimmjow's hand shot out like a cobra and latched onto his shirt. It was so unexpected that Ichigo didn't even have time to think about defense as Grimmjow's arm retracted, his fist full of Ichigo's shirt. That meant Ichigo had no choice but to follow as the momentum pulled him straight onto his feet to stand in between Grimmjow's legs. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ichigo knew he could knee the guy in the balls if he needed to escape this situation.

But Grimmjow's mouth was on his so quickly- that thought was immediately bombed off the surface of Ichigo's consideration with the efficiency of a Stark Industries Jericho Missile. Grimmjow's other hand came to press insistently at the small of his back, coupling with the hand still fisted in his t-shirt, to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. Which, by no means, was Ichigo attempting to. His focus instantly narrowed on Grimmjow's mouth, eyes screwed shut and tongue tangling with the blue haired man's frantically.

The kiss was heavy; a battle to see who could map out who's mouth first. The slide and tangle of tongues, the slight nipping of teeth at plump bottom lips, the quick gasps for breath before diving in again for more. Ichigo's nails sunk into Grimmjow's biceps as the larger male used his hand on Ichigo's back to push Ichigo closer into him and their erections pressed together, the glorious yet agonizingly not-enough pressure through denim causing them both to groan.

Surprisingly, it was Grimmjow who pulled away. He didn't shove Ichigo away, but he did flatten his hand on Ichigo's chest and pressed hard enough to stop the other from re-initiating the kiss.

"Ichigo, wait! I don't want ya thinkin' I really brought ya here ta get in your pants. I seriously meant to hang out and then take ya back ta campus."

"What?" Ichigo asked stupidly, his chest feeling hot from where Grimmjow's hand was still lingering, his lips tingling from the force of their previous make out session.

"I don't want ya thinkin' ya have ta do this just cuz' I paid that money ta take ya on a date," Grimmjow clarified.

"Oh, I don't think that at all," Ichigo assured him, desperate to get back to the kissing.

"Good, cuz as planned out as this seems, it's not what my intentions were."

"Excellent," Ichigo encouraged, leaning in towards Grimmjow's mouth, ready to be done with the conversation.

Grimmjow was not.

"Ichigo, wait, fuck! Believe me, as much as I want ta do all the things that I'm sure are on your mind and mine, I don't want ta do this the wrong way."

"What, like you don't know how sex works between two guys? As incredible as you are, I find that hard to believe, Grimmjow, but I can walk you through it…"

"No, no, that's not what I mean! I mean, I don't do casual hook ups, Ichigo. Shit, I don't even make out with people like we've done. It's just I've wanted ya so bad since I saw ya the first time in the writin' lab, and when your friend came around with all this it seemed like my chance."

"I've wanted you from day one too. So, what exactly are you trying to tell me? We can't sleep together because we aren't together?"

"Well, basically, yeah," Grimmjow replied, sheepishly.

Ichigo stared at him for a moment in disbelief and then shook his head. He used his hand to tip Grimmjow's chin and bring him eye level.

"Be my boyfriend, Grimmjow. And I'll punctuate that request with the pledge that I'm not asking this because I'm horny as hell, but because I genuinely want to date your old-fashioned ass. And don't be embarrassed, it's oddly endearing."

Grimmjow surged forward and snagged Ichigo's mouth again for a searing kiss. This time, his hands were no longer holding Ichigo in place, favoring exploring Ichigo's body instead. The hand at the small of his back slid down and grabbed a handful of Ichigo's denim clad ass cheek, causing Ichigo to groan in appreciation into Grimmjow's mouth. His other large hand skated up beneath Ichigo's t-shirt, running warm, long fingers over the hard, flat muscles of Ichigo's abdomen.

Ichigo was happy Grimmjow had removed his hoodie along with his leather coat when they arrived, tugging impatiently at Grimmjow's shirt that was unfairly stretched tightly across his broad chest and obstructing his view and touch. They broke the kiss so Ichigo could pull it up and over Grimmjow's head, forcing the other to have to remove his hands from his own body. He mourned the loss until his eyes were rewarded with the expanse of Grimmjow's form in front of him; Grimmjow's shirt was dropped to the floor, forgotten.

It was unfair, criminal really, that someone could be so beautifully put together. Grimmjow had to be a model of what Greek statues look like. He was powerfully built- but proportional; he had defined muscle that rippled when he moved, but not so muscled that he was bulky and top heavy with gross veins popping out. Ichigo ogled him shamelessly, using his fingers to map the planes and dips in the expanse of Grimmjow's broad chest.

Grimmjow let him have his way, his hands just running teasingly across the small of Ichigo's back beneath his shirt, stroking the soft skin there. Ichigo traced his chiseled abs, biting his bottom lip at the sparks of lust shooting through his body as he touched Grimmjow like this. He looked up to meet Grimmjow's eyes, sucking in a breath at how the glacial blue had gone a more midnight color and his pupils were threatening to engulf the blue pools altogether.

"Can I take this off?" Grimmjow asked, his voice raspier than it had been before as he pulled at Ichigo's thin shirt. Ichigo just nodded, swallowing hard when Grimmjow gently pushed at his hips so he'd take a step back. Grimmjow slid from the stool and stood up to his full height, towering a few inches taller than Ichigo and yet somehow it was a turn on instead of intimidating.

Time somehow slowed for Ichigo, sort of like when you tried to run in ocean water that was up to your chest. Agonizingly slow, Grimmjow drug his shirt up so that his thumbs skimmed over the entirety of Ichigo's ribs, causing him to shiver at the sensation. Ichigo compliantly raised his arms so Grimmjow could finish removing it from his body, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around his middle and hide himself from view. He was no slouch, he worked out and had a great body, but he wasn't built the way Grimmjow was.

Grimmjow must have caught the flush of embarrassment at having his body scrutinized.

"Ichigo, you are so beautiful," he breathed, punctuating his sentiment by reverently guiding his fingers all over Ichigo's torso in a myriad of random patterns that left warm tingles in their wake. Ichigo gasped audibly when those graceful fingers dipped playfully into the waistband of his jeans, attempting to trace his Adonis lines all the way down.

Ichigo couldn't take the teasing, hooking his fingers into Grimmjow's belt loops and hauling their pelvises together. There were no other words for it, Grimmjow straight up let out an animalistic growl, claiming Ichigo's mouth in a possessive kiss that felt like it could melt the sun with its level of intensity. The onslaught of sensations was making Ichigo's knees weak, grinding into Grimmjow to get some relief for his desperately throbbing dick while going slightly light headed from Grimmjow's kiss.

Grimmjow's hands encircled his hips and he pulled back enough to let them both suck in some air before attacking the sensitive skin at Ichigo's neck. Ichigo whimpered, hating the desperate little sounds that Grimmjow was pulling from him but he was powerless in the face of pleasure. Grimmjow used his grip and the knowledge of his space to steer Ichigo away from the counter and toward the couch without ceasing his nips and licks to Ichigo's neck and clavicle. When the backs of Ichigo's legs hit the piece of furniture, Grimmjow gently guided him down on his back. The coolness of the leather was welcome on to his overheated skin.

Grimmjow straddled his hips, his arms coming in cage around the halo of mussed up orange spikes on Ichigo's head. Now that they were horizontal, Ichigo found it was easier to get more of the glorious pleasure he was seeking to certain areas. Especially when Grimmjow dropped his weight and rolled his hips into Ichigo's, causing both of them to moan, albeit Ichigo was louder.

Grimmjow set about finding all the little things that made Ichigo tick like it was his life's mission. He sucked Ichigo's dusky nipple into his mouth, which made Ichigo gasp, but when he nipped it, the action caused Ichigo to roll his hips up into Grimmjow's frantically and bite out a sharp, "Fuck!"

Ichigo, just for the hell of it, sank his nails into the muscles of Grimmjow's shoulder blades which earned him a pleased grunt, but experimentally ripping them down the curve of Grimmjow's back hard enough to leave angry red lines made that primal growl come back. Ichigo's hands latched onto Grimmjow's ass and pushed him to rut harder as Grimmjow claimed his swollen lips for another bruising kiss.

It felt so good and Ichigo felt like he was a taut as a guitar string, his body thrumming on some higher plane that somehow coexisted with reality. He had to stop Grimmjow though, or it was going to be over way too soon. His hands flew up to Grimmjow's hair, tangling his fingers in and pulling enough to break their mouths apart.

"Grimmjow, please," panted Ichigo, "can we move this upstairs? Otherwise I'm going to embarrass myself and come in my pants."

Grimmjow smiled and devilishly wriggled against Ichigo, who, being pinned beneath the larger male, could not escape, at least not easily, and was trapped.

"Ah! Please, Grimm, fuck, please!" pleaded Ichigo, his eyes half lidded and lust blown when he looked at the other in desperation. It was enough to break Grimmjow though and he shoved himself up and extended his hand to help Ichigo up. Ichigo winced a bit as his skin peeled away from the leather, his increased body temperature making a light sheen of sweat break out over his skin.

Both men scrambled up the stairs to Grimmjow's sleeping space. Once they were safely off the stairs, Grimmjow spun around and snatched Ichigo's belt buckle, his fingers deftly working it open and popping the button of his jeans.

"You too," Ichigo demanded, gesturing at Grimmjow's pants. Grimmjow took a few steps back, unfastening his jeans and rucking down the zipper. Ichigo found himself holding his breath as Grimmjow's hands started sliding the denim down his hips, shoving them over muscled thighs and down equally sculpted calves until he could kick them completely off his ankles.

Ichigo forgot he was supposed to be taking off his own jeans. He forgot how to think; he was thankful that breathing was a natural reflex or he'd have forgot how to do that too and passed out. Grimmjow was absolutely glorious in his full birthday suit. Ichigo's eyes raked over the buffet that was laid before him. The V of Grimmjow's abdomen led down to his cock that hung heavy and full between his thighs.

Grimmjow was a little longer than average length and Ichigo's mouth watered at the thought of tasting it. His brain apparently liked that idea and moved his body without his volition to kneel before Grimmjow, his knees sinking into the plush carpeting. Grimmjow let out a sharp breath when Ichigo looked up at him, requesting with his eyes.

"Ichigo, you don't have to- Shit!"

Duh, he didn't have to, but he wanted to, and Ichigo licked a hot stripe from base to tip, sampling the flavor and scent of Grimmjow and was delighted with the dribble of liquid that dripped from the flushed head. He used his thumb to smear it all over the skin and then took the head in his mouth, looking up to watch Grimmjow's eyes slip shut in bliss. The heady taste of Grimmjow and the small noises spilling from his lips every time Ichigo took him down completely so that his nose brushed clean, blue curls had the orange haired male pulling out his own cock from his previous loosened jeans.

Through his own haze of personal pleasure Grimmjow watched Ichigo suck him off and work his hand over himself. It was a beautiful sight, but it was one he'd enjoy later because he wanted to be the one to bring Ichigo off. The desire to be the one making Ichigo writhe, beg, and fall over the edge of pleasure shot through him hotly, and he pulled himself back from Ichigo with a new sense of purpose.

"On the bed," Grimmjow commanded, and Ichigo couldn't deny how the tone of voice made his dick throb in his hand. He rose from the floor and went and sat on the edge of Grimmjow's bed, the mattress dipping and cradling his weight. Quickly he divested himself of his pants and boxer briefs and they went to join Grimmjow's on the floor.

Grimmjow stepped forward, his eyes raking greedily over Ichigo's naked form, drinking in the lines, angles, the beauty before him. At risk of sounding corny as hell, he was going to remember to ask Ichigo sometime if he'd pose so Grimmjow could paint him.

"Move more to the middle, lay back and relax," Grimmjow instructed. Ichigo replied with his request, his eyes following Grimmjow who had moved around the bed to his dresser. He pulled some things from the top drawer and returned to Ichigo, the bed dipping from his weight as he settled between Ichigo's long, tan legs. He hooked his hands under the backs of Ichigo's knees and guided Ichigo's legs so they were wide open.

Ichigo felt a flush of heat at being so exposed to his lover. He heard the unmistakable pop of a plastic cap and his dick jumped against his abdomen at the thought of what they were about to do. A very slick finger ran up and down his crack and Ichigo jolted slightly. Grimmjow began pressing hot kisses to his inner thighs, doing nothing more but stroking across his hole and rubbing in light circles.

Ichigo took a few deep breaths and shut his eyes, allowing himself to relax and float away on the sensations. It wasn't long before the circles gave away to more insistent pushes against his hole, and Ichigo thrusted his hips down on the finger there, demanding with his body that Grimmjow hurry the hell up. Grimmjow let out a dark chuckle at his wantonness but Ichigo didn't have time to rebuke him as Grimmjow's long finger breeched him up to the second knuckle.

Grimmjow wasted no time sliding the finger in and out of Ichigo's hot canal, watching with fascination how Ichigo's body sucked him in. A guttural groan tore from somewhere in Ichigo's chest as Grimmjow picked up the pace with his finger, his own dick throbbing and leaking between his legs at the thought of how it soon would be in the place of his fingers.

Ichigo's hands fisted into the gray comforter and after a while he couldn't stop his hips from rocking to meet Grimmjow's thrusts, fucking himself down onto the finger in his ass. Grimmjow was telling him how beautiful he was, how hot and tight, and somehow the whole situation was too much and not enough simultaneously.

Grimmjow must have sensed it because before Ichigo could get his mouth to remember how to use big-boy words, Grimmjow's finger pulled out nearly all the way before pushing back in with a second. The long, drawn out "YEEESSSSS!" didn't even sound like his voice when Ichigo realized it was him who moaned it out. Ichigo's head thrashed from side to side at the fullness and the pleasurable burn of being stretched. Grimmjow's fingers alternated from sliding in and out of him to scissoring inside him, trying to work him open for the much larger intrusion to come.

Grimmjow pushed a little deeper, hooking his fingers and rubbing. Ichigo nearly bolted upright as white-hot waves of pleasure snapped through his over sensitive nerve endings.

"FUCK YES! Oh fuck, Grimmjow, there, more, more!"

Grimmjow's face broke out into a salacious grin and he worked his fingers, every so often giving into Ichigo's desperate sobs for more by pressing hard into the bundle of nerves that left Ichigo's thighs quaking and little beads of precoma drip from the reddened head of his cock. Grimmjow reveled for a few moments more in the stunning mess that he had made of Ichigo. His tan skin had a thin layer of sweat, his lips were kiss bruised and swollen, his hair in complete disarray, and he was tearing at the comforter in his pleasure and destroying the neatly made bed as he writhed on Grimmjow's fingers.

Finally, Ichigo's pleas and his own need got to him and Grimmjow withdrew his fingers, quickly picking up the condom he'd grabbed earlier. He ripped the golden package open with his teeth and rolled it on himself. Ichigo watched him slather a good amount of lube over himself and let his head fall back. How he was going to take all that, he didn't' know, but he damn sure was going to try!

Grimmjow leaned forward, bracing himself on his left hand which was placed next to Ichigo's head, using his other to guide himself so he was lined up with Ichigo. Grimmjow paused, locking eyes with Ichigo and searching for any sign the male beneath him was uncertain. Ichigo's hand came up to trace along Grimmjow's jaw line tenderly, before gripping his chin harshly.

"Do it," he commanded, yanking Grimmjow down to his mouth, kissing Grimmjow with all the intensity and sincerity he could muster into his tongue.

Grimmjow used the kiss as a distraction, surging forward and pushing against Ichigo's slick hole. Ichigo gasped into the kiss and Grimmjow kept sinking in, not stopping until he was all the way buried inside his boyfriend. He tore his lips from Ichigo's, distracting himself from moving by nipping and licking Ichigo's nipples. He needed the moment to calm down; Ichigo was as tight as Spandex on a 350-pound woman. Just being inside him was enough to make him come.

Ichigo's hands were clenching and unclenching around Grimmjow's biceps and his breath was coming in short pants as he focused on remaining relaxed. Grimmjow worked over the skin on his chest, alternating between sweet, gentle kisses and rough nips and scrapes of teeth. After what felt like an eternity, Ichigo was pulling at his shoulder.

"Try moving now, think I'm good," Ichigo coaxed.

Grimmjow's eyes snapped up to Ichigo's as he shifted his weight back to his arms above Ichigo, watching avidly as he rocked his hips back shallowly, pushing in again. It made both of their breath hitch, Ichigo's eyes widening a fraction and his teeth coming down to worry his bottom lip. Grimmjow gave a few more thrusts like these, enjoying the little whimpers his movements caused Ichigo to make. When he felt like Ichigo could take it, he drew back until he was nearly all the way out and surged back in, skin slapping skin when he bottomed out.

That was all she wrote. Ichigo's back arched, his mouth gaping open as his head flopped back in a wordless scream, his nails digging for purchase in the skin of Grimmjow's arms as pleasure cleaved through him. Grimmjow groaned long and low, his forehead dropping to rest on Ichigo's clavicle. Again, he let his hips repeat the action, keeping up the same steady pace and turning Ichigo into a writhing, gasping mess beneath him.

Grimmjow shifted his hips a bit on the next thrust in, sliding his knees a little more toward Ichigo's bottom. Ichigo all but screamed in pleasure, his hands slapping onto Grimmjow's chest hard enough to make the sound echo around the room.

BINGO.

Grimmjow gripped Ichigo's tanned left thigh, hauling it up onto his shoulder and effectively dragging Ichigo's body across the comforter to where he wanted it. Ichigo's hands fisted into the plush fabric when Grimmjow braced himself on the bed and began a brutal pace of thrusting, pistoning his hips until the smack of skin against skin was as loud as Ichigo's screams.

Ichigo's dick bounced against his abdomen from Grimmjow's force, and he pried his hand from Grimmjow's bed to snake it up to grab it, only to have Grimmjow growl and slap it away. Ichigo whimpered and Grimmjow's large hand wrapped around his length, tugging in time with his thrusts.

Ichigo was dead. He had to be dead, because there's no way he was going to be able to survive the onslaught of pleasure that Grimmjow was hurtling him toward. He could feel the pressure building in his core, roiling like hot lava threatening to explode. He just needed a little extra, he was skimming the edge, and he just needed the shove that was going to send him plummeting over the precipice he was toeing.

Grimmjow could see the need all over Ichigo's face, but refused to quicken his pace. He wanted Ichigo to say it. He knew it would be his own undoing, but he couldn't think of anything hotter than hearing Ichigo beg for his release.

"Tell me," Grimmjow grunted down at Ichigo. "Tell me what ya' want."

"Fuck! Grimmmmmm!" Ichigo whined, tossing his head to the side.

"Nope, not good enough," Grimmjow rasped, nipping at the leg slung over his shoulder harshly while twisting his wrist so that he was massaging over the ridge of Ichigo's cockhead mercilessly.

Ichigo's eyes shot open, his hands digging into the blanket until his knuckles turned white.

"Harder, fuck!" he sobbed, "Please, Grimm, holy fuck I need to come!"

Yep, Grimmjow was right, that was way too fucking hot. He gave Ichigo what he asked for because it was what he needed too. He pushed himself harder, ignoring the slight twinge in his back as he plowed his dick roughly in and out of Ichigo's wet, willing hole. Ichigo's eyes went impossibly wide, his back arcing up off the bed as his dick pulsed in Grimmjow's hand. Ichigo's vision went white and he wailed Grimmjow's name. Thick white ropes spilled out onto his abs and Grimmjow kept stroking until Ichigo collapsed back onto the mattress, a bit of Ichigo's fluid running warmly down his hand.

It only took a few more thrusts into Ichigo's spasming, heated walls before Grimmjow was unloading into Ichigo with an animalistic snarl. After a few beats, he opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them, to find warm, sated brown eyes watching him with a lazy smile. He smiled back, easing Ichigo's leg down and swooping in to pepper kisses all over his gorgeous face.

Ichigo giggled and captured Grimmjow's mouth for a sweet, soft kiss. Grimmjow smirked and pulled away to ask what was so funny, but Ichigo placed his hands on either side of his head, guiding him back.

"I believe I still owe you 9 more kisses," he whispered against Grimmjow's lips before sealing their mouths together once more. Grimmjow hummed in appreciation and snuggled his boyfriend closer, both of them finding ways to stay warm on a cold winter New York City night.

End story! I hope you enjoyed! Comments and reviews always appreciated! 3