Some people requested a version from Grimmjow's POV. Well, how can I say no? ;)

Orange.

Orange.

What a godawful color for hair. Poor kid must've had a terrible time growing up. Kids were cruel nowadays. Grimmjow would know. He'd gotten into trouble enough times with his own hair color. But he had grown up alright; it was the kids at the other end of his fists who didn't. But he was digressing. He wasn't here to sympathize with this orange-haired young man. He was here for a much less innocent reason.

From his seat a few tables away, Grimmjow studied his subject. Ichigo. Never a full name, or for some people, just a pseudonym. To reveal any more would make them feel too vulnerable. Too exposed. He understood, though. Who wanted to advertise their private kink to the world and be judged for it?

Take Ichigo here, for example. The kid looked barely legal, fresh faced and practically radiating youthful innocence. Who would've expected someone like him would have a fetish like this?

Grimmjow grinned to himself. Ichigo looked nervous, obviously a first timer. First timers were always the best. Their fear was genuine, so raw that he swore he could climax just by watching them. Sometimes they looked so pitiful that he almost felt guilty, but hey, they were the ones who decided their own limits, not him. He simply played his part in fulfilling their fantasies.

Taking a sip of coffee, Grimmjow glanced at Ichigo again. The boy had been staring at the entrance for the past hour and a half, and Grimmjow could tell that Ichigo was getting impatient. His frustration showed on his face, the boyish features marred by a dark scowl that could wilt a flower.

Grimmjow had to bite his lip to stop himself from chuckling. The kid won't know what hit him.

By the time Ichigo finished paying for his meal, Grimmjow was already outside, waiting for him. Grimmjow hid his unruly blue hair under a hat and wore a pair of designer sunglasses, so he wasn't surprised when the boy walked right past him without giving him a second look.

He waited until Ichigo was a good distance away, then he followed, never letting the boy out of his sight even as he dodged into the shadows to keep himself hidden. Ichigo was fast on his feet, obviously eager to leave this seedy neighborhood.

After several blocks, Grimmjow saw his opening as they approached an area with a busted street light. He allowed himself to close their distance, and right on cue, the kid stiffened and stopped in his tracks. Which was exactly what Grimmjow wanted.

He didn't give the boy the chance to even struggle. The chloroform-soaked cloth was potent enough to knock him out almost immediately. Grimmjow grunted as Ichigo slumped bonelessly into his arms, but after some struggle, managed to sling a limp arm over his shoulder and scoop the kid up bridal-style. Keeping to the darker parts of the sidewalk, Grimmjow carried the unconscious young man several more blocks before stopping in front of an old apartment building. This was one of the many places the club kept for this kind of meet-ups; a set of sorts, if you will. It was his favorite simply because it was the crappiest, most creepy place they had available.

The receptionist didn't even look up when Grimmjow walked past. There were some things you don't stick your nose into in these parts of town, and this one was one of those things. Grimmjow climbed the stairs easily and made it to the second-floor unit within minutes. Keeping Ichigo sandwiched between the wall and his body, he unlocked the door and eased it open slowly - that damn thing was noisy as fuck - before picking the kid up again.

The lone light bulb dangling from the ceiling was barely bright enough to reach the four corners of the tiny room, but Grimmjow knew the place like the back of his own hand by now. He laid Ichigo down on the mattress, careful not the jolt the kid too much, then he left. He wanted the boy to stew in fear when he came around. It wouldn't be fun otherwise.

Standing on the outside of the flimsy wooden door, Grimmjow could hear soft rustling noises. Barely audible, but he had enough experience to know what that meant.

Ichigo was awake.

Grimmjow closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. Just that thought alone was enough to send tendrils of warmth spreading all over his body. It was time for action.

This time, he yanked the door open roughly, knowing that the rusty hinges would make a racket and add to the fear that was no doubt already brewing in the boy's mind. And Grimmjow absolutely loved to make a dramatic entrance. Sure enough, Ichigo jumped and clamped his hands over his ears and grimaced like a man in pain. But that look was quickly replaced by one of utter shock as Grimmjow took one step closer.

The kid's face turned white, then bright red. Grimmjow resisted the urge to grin. He tended to have that kind of effect on people, especially in this kind of situation. He knew he looked good in his tight shirt and low riding jeans - his favorite ensemble when he wanted to show off his assets and make an impression. He waited quietly and took the time to admire the body that was soon to be within his grasp. Ichigo wasn't too bad himself; he was slim but lean, and if you pay attention you could see the subtle outlines of well toned abs under his t-shirt. His hair looked like an exploded bird nest - if bird nests came in orange, that is - and his soft brown eyes were wide as he demanded to know who Grimmjow was.

Grimmjow was impressed. Not many people had the guts to be so feisty after waking up alone in an unfamiliar place. In fact, this kid was the first one who wasn't cowering in the furthest corner of the room when he walked in. Grimmjow's pulse instantly kicked up a notch and his mouth watered. Fear was good, but defiance and fear was even better.

Not giving the boy the chance to recover from his shock, Grimmjow lunged. The boy's breath left his lungs with an audible whoosh, and Grimmjow immediately went for the wrists. Pinning the slender limbs against the mattress, he hovered over the younger man like a predator would a prey. Ichigo's eyes widened, and then the kid did the unthinkable. Grimmjow was barely able to avoid the knees that were aimed right for his gut. His eyes immediately narrowed.

Nobody messed with Grimmjow. Not unless they enjoyed pain.

Growling low in his throat, Grimmjow let go of Ichigo's wrists and grabbed the boy's neck. The kid struggled immediately, face reddening and eyes bulging as Grimmjow squeezed harder. Blunt nails scraped frantically against his hand, but he was unrelenting, not until Ichigo's movements began to slow down. Grimmjow lifted his hand then, not wanting the boy to faint on him again. Ichigo rolled onto his side and started coughing and wheezing like he wanted to throw up, his body convulsing as he sucked in much-needed air.

Anger slightly appeased, Grimmjow gave the kid a few minutes to recover, using the time to remove his own jeans. His eyes raked over the lithe body lying in front of him, just begging to be taken. Suddenly feeling impatient, he reached for the boy's hair to pull him up. Ichigo yelped in pain before going eerily silent. This time, Grimmjow allowed himself to grin. Good, the fire was still there. He was going to enjoy breaking this one.

Ignoring Ichigo's ragged coughs, Grimmjow pressed the boy's head into the mattress and planted a knee on the boy's back, pinning him in place. Ichigo thrashed beneath him but was helpless to stop him. Grimmjow reached down and, with a swift flick and pull, started sliding the kid's jeans over his hips. He snickered under his breath when the boy went still.

This was the moment - the moment his subjects realized what was going to happen. Some of the smarter ones would connect the dots and realize by now that Grimmjow was their arranged partner, but others - like Ichigo here - were often clueless until the very end. Grimmjow preferred this kind; it was more satisfying, the experience much more complete.

With a final yank, Grimmjow had the kid's naked bottom in full view; then with another cruel tug, he pulled Ichigo onto his knees by a fistful of hair. Adrenaline pumped in Grimmjow's blood when the boy cried out in pain, and he nearly laughed out loud when Ichigo started clawing at the sheets as he lifted the boy's hips. It was useless to struggle against him, not when one was as turned on by this as Ichigo was. Despite his protests, the boy was hard as a rock.

Grimmjow's eyes slid closed as he pressed himself against Ichigo's backside, the smooth, flushed skin cold against his throbbing arousal. Then, with one long, brutal stroke, he breached the boy's body, surging past the resisting muscles and pushing himself as far as he could go. Face crushed against the mattress, Ichigo screamed, his shocked body taking a few seconds to register the invasion. Grimmjow let out a groan, relishing the way the tight passage trembled around him, the heat and friction sending a crushing wave of pleasure through his body.

With each snap of his hips, Grimmjow buried himself deeper, until he was finally sheathed to the hilt. Then he picked up the pace, slamming into the helpless body over and over again until the boy's cries became hoarse. Every time the abused walls clenched around him, Grimmjow growled, his head slowly tilting back as he felt his release approaching.

And then he heard it - the low, drawn out moan that escaped from his victim's mouth.

This was it: the breaking point. The part where they became torn between fighting it and loving it.

"Slut," Grimmjow sneered. He punished the younger man with an especially hard thrust and laughed when Ichigo arched his back and cried out.

"More..." the boy slurred drunkenly, his upper body sprawled out on the the mattress while his hips remained high in the air.

Grimmjow cackled, knowing that the kid was incoherent at this point and probably wouldn't even remember it the next day. But wouldn't it priceless, if he did? If he knew that he had begged for more while he was being ravaged by a stranger?

As the moans grew increasingly louder, the boy raised himself up with an elbow. Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed as he watched the kid stroke himself frantically. Pitiful mewls left the boy as he inched closer to an explosive climax, and Grimmjow thrust faster, his arousal spiked by the sight and sounds of his victim pleasuring himself.

Grimmjow almost came when the boy peaked with a choked cry, tear-streaked face pressed into the mattress as his muscles convulsed around Grimmjow's cock. The boy collapsed onto the bed after that, but Grimmjow kept going, pistoning in and out of the now-pliant body almost violently. Then, with one final thrust, he pressed in as deep as he could and let pleasure crest over him.

Afterwards, the boy simply laid there, completely spent and nearly unconscious. By the time Grimmjow was fully dressed again, Ichigo was out cold. Smirking and feeling proud of himself, Grimmjow unclasped the necklace that was around the boy's neck and dropped it next to his hand, along with a matching card beside it.

Then he left, leaving the boy to discover the truth on his own.

The End.