GrimmIchi: All I Want 1 of 2

Ichigo Kurosaki collapsed onto the unfamiliar mattress, panting from exertion.

A slight thud beside him and the resulting quaking of the bed announced that the other on the strange bed had done the same. Espresso-colored eyes cornered to see the lanky body beside his, bare and gleaming with sweat, just as his was. The only difference was the other body had a slackness to it that spoke of satisfaction, and his was still tense, the muscles tight despite the recent physical apex he had just reached.

"Shit Kurosaki, you really are flexible," a silvery voice said, full of mirth. Large hands reached out to entangle themselves in Ichigo's bright sunset hair, the other nuzzling into the locks that still smelled so divine despite the moisture that dampened them.

Ichigo didn't say anything, just hummed in response, and when his partner captured his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss he could've screamed in disappointment.

Nothing.

No fireworks, no cupids singing, not even a tiny spark. There was nothing, just like there always hadn't been. Always.

He broke away first, turning his head to the side and scanning the unfamiliar room for the clothes he had discarded not even an hour earlier. His jeans were laying over a desk chair and his shirt was on the floor right by the door, having been practically ripped off of his body as soon as he had stumbled into the room with the dark-haired, towering high school senior that was now at his side.

He felt a brief heaving in his chest, like he was being choked by the realization of what he had just done. Again. But the pressure released him, leaving his mind and body free to do what he had to do next. Get the hell out of there.

Ichigo pushed himself up to a sitting position, swinging his legs off of the bed and onto the floor. He winced when he felt the sore throbbing in his lower back and backside and the uncomfortable feeling of fluids that were currently drying on his skin. It felt like he needed a long, good shower with the water as hot as he could stand it and then some.

Now that the previous moans and pants had subsided, he could clearly hear the music drifting from downstairs, the bass practically thunderous, and the drunken laughter and drugged cries of the people there.

"Where ya goin'?" the other male questioned lazily, looking up at Ichigo through hooded, beady eyes. The orangette didn't respond at first, snatching his jeans off of the floor and wriggling into the tight things.

"Back downstairs," he muttered, grabbing his t-shirt by the door and tugging it on over his head. The fabric helped him to feel much less exposed, like by covering all of the crimson and lavender marks that littered his usually flawless, bronzed skin it could erase their existence. Like he hadn't just spent the last forty-five minutes being marked with them.

You know, people always say it's different for men and women, for boys and girls, that the male sex can have intimate physical relations with another person and not really feel used or dirty or cheap, that people won't attach the stigma to them that they're easy and therefore, not truly a worthwhile person.

Ichigo can tell you that that is far from the truth.

"'kay, bring me back a beer, would ya?" the dark-haired male reached beside the bed to pick up a carton of cigarettes, plucking one out and placing it between thin lips before lighting it. Ichigo frowned and swung open the door to the suddenly too small room, slipping on his sandals on the way. He didn't respond before walking out into the hallway.

Nnoitra Jiruga. Another mistake to put down on his very long list.

The hallway was hazy with translucent smoke, almost like the kind of fog one would see hovering over a Scottish moor, except that kind of natural mist is beautiful and clean and this smoke burned Ichigo's eyes and nostrils and he had to resist from pulling the neck of his t-shirt over his nose as he navigated down the long passageway. There were a few couples that had come up here to get away from all the hustle and bustle of the party downstairs and they were intertwined throughout the narrow hall, pressed against the wall and mouths locked onto each other's supple flesh.

Ichigo felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him and he made his way to the stairs leading to the main floor as quickly as possible, trying to avoid looking at those passionate embraces, those starry, glazed eyes that closed in bliss and lust.

It was all he had ever wanted.

He trudged down the stairs, passing by a group of sophomore girls from his school that each let out a sharp giggle as he did so. He saw from the corner of his eye as they all turned to each other, whispering and laughing and pointing. Everyone knew what happened when he went upstairs with someone, especially someone as lascivious as Nnoitra. And maybe a year or two ago, this would have bothered him, but not now. This happened every day, and he liked to think he had built up an immunity.

That's what you can expect when you're considered to be your high school's biggest tramp, slut, whore, skank, whatever. Ichigo's heard it all before. And his reputation wasn't exactly unearned, so he couldn't blame people for thinking that. Hell, he'd thought it himself plenty of times.

And yet somehow, he just can't stop doing the very thing that had earned him the notoriety of being easy. Maybe it sounds terribly cliche, terribly pathetic, but Ichigo keeps looking for that one that he actually feels something with when they kiss, even if it's just a spark. That would be so much better than the empty feeling when he locks lips with any reasonably attractive male in his high school. And there's this moment, when he first leans in to kiss someone, that all of this hope wells up in chest and it makes him feel higher than any drug ever could.

Yes, it's stupid and maybe it makes him something worse than a slut, someone who desperately needs attention and feeds off those who give it to him, even if it's only for a few hours.

But Ichigo's father is constantly at the clinic part of their home, and his sisters have gotten older and interested in soccer and boys respectively and maybe it's just nice to feel needed. Being wanted is possibly the best feeling in the entire world in his eyes.

Tearing his chocolate brown eyes away from the amused and knowing looks the sophomore girls were giving him, he scanned the crowd for a head of familiar sea foam hair. He felt terrible for abandoning his best friend almost an hour ago to go with Nnoitra upstairs, especially since he had dragged Neliel there in the first place, excited for the prospects the party promised while the girl had only just wanted to go see the new romantic comedy.

Ichigo weaved his way through the throng of young bodies both gyrating and still, passing through the living room of the stranger's home and the kitchen. He could see a couple of girls his own age and a thin, reedy kid that had to be in college rolling on E and all crawling on top of each other on the couch as they doused each other with water, liquid dousing their overheated flesh.

He kept a keen eye out for the tall, buxom figure that was Neliel, but he didn't catch sight of her brightly colored hair anywhere amongst the crowd of party-goers. Only more knowing looks and winks sent his way that he desperately tried to ignore.

In the kitchen there were two boys, one blonde and one with hair of silver, leaning on the counter and handing out drinks in those infamous red plastic cups. Ichigo felt his stomach drop as one of them nudged the other in the ribs and nodded towards him, causing the silver-haired boy's ever-present grin to widen.

"Maa maa Kurosaki, now tha' ya are done wit' Jiruga, fancy givin' me a show?" the boy asked almost mockingly in a lilting tone, cocking his head.

Ichigo wondered what he had ever seen in Gin Ichimaru to make him sleep with the guy not once, but twice. Perhaps he had convinced himself that the silver-haired boy was too aloof to really show his feelings the first time around.

See? Pathetic. Don't say he didn't warn you.

Ichigo scowled heavily, thin, orange brows pulling together, and not even bothering to respond, he turned away to face the sliding glass door that led to the house's seemingly peaceful backyard. He knew from past experience that it would do no good to acknowledge people when they acted like that. It was if when you were telling them they were the most vile creature on the earth it translated in their minds that you wanted them, right then and there.

He pushed the sliding door aside on its track, feeling the cool night air brush over his heated face like a long-missed lover's embrace. Sighing involuntarily, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes. The music and chatter faded away until they were nothing but a dull, distant roar, the bass of the rap song that was playing making the glass Ichigo's back was pressed against hum with vibrations.

He was glad no one was out in the backyard but him, due to the cooling weather. Here he could have a brief reprieve before having to face the stares and whispers once more as he looked for Neliel and the slightly chilled, autumn night air felt so nice against his skin, the skin that was still stained with the marks of someone whom had only used him for not even an hour of entertainment. Someone he had been convinced before that hour could possibly have genuine feelings for him.

God, he really was an idiot.

What had he been thinking? Why did he always go for the boys that whispered pretty words in his ear about how sexy he was, the words they had probably said to a million other people before him? Why couldn't he ever meet someone that was interested in him? Not just what fleeting physical pleasure he could give them?

But these were all questions Ichigo had asked himself an infinite amount of times before, and ones that he could never answer.

Perhaps it was time to give up being a hopeless romantic. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be for him...

"Now, what are ya doing out here all alone, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo jumped about a foot into the air, toffee brown eyes snapping open and the back of his head banging against the glass door. Wincing, he rubbed the back of his head as he glared at the person whom had dared to disturb him.

The brightest of blue swam into his vision, perfectly complementing lightly tanned skin and a grin so predatory and white, it glowed in the darkness of the night. Ichigo felt his front teeth bite into his lower lip hard at the sight that he so abhorred and lived for at the same time.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

Now if there was one person that Ichigo wished was the one who liked him for him (tragic, yes), it would be Grimmjow. And if there was one person that Ichigo hated more than anyone else, it was Grimmjow.

As you may be able to tell, they had always had quite the interesting relationship, ever since the blunette had accidentally bumped him into some seniors he had been trying to chat up in his freshman year. Ichigo had retaliated by tripping Grimmjow in their shared math class the next day, leading the then fellow freshman to spill his soda all over his white shirt. And this had led to a sort of lazy back and forth between the two in the three years that had passed since. They had never really gotten close, they had always remained distant acquaintances that only spoke to hurl half-hearted insults and tease each other.

But Ichigo couldn't deny that Grimmjow was undoubtedly the sexiest thing he had ever laid eyes on. Those too intense cyan orbs that glittered like sapphires in just the right light and perfectly imperfect turquoise locks that fell over his forehead and over the nape of his neck had him mentally writhing in lust every time he saw the other senior, even though that had become much less frequent as of late.

There were certain things about Grimmjow he knew that he shouldn't, like that the senior had applied to several art schools, being an insanely talented photographer (if the camera that was always around that strong, tanned neck wasn't a clue to that already), and that he had lost his parents in a house fire when he was just thirteen, leading him to live with his uncle Sosuke, the richest man in their town. Yes, Ichigo knew all these things and more. And he shouldn't. He shouldn't have noticed that Cherry Coke was Grimmjow's favorite ever since he had prompted for the then freshman to spill it on himself and he should definitely have never noticed that the boy had never had a serious relationship except for recently (and this was why he should have never known these things.)

And there was something about the blue-haired boy that kept Ichigo from working his usual charm. He couldn't make his eyes glaze over with obvious want and bite and lick his lips and run his hands up those muscular arms to rest on broad shoulders, no, never could he do that when Grimmjow was around, not even to other people. For some reason Ichigo could never fathom, he could only scowl (which must have been oh-so-very-attractive) and reply snarkily to all of Grimmjow's teasing when the gorgeous boy was around. A fabulous thing to do when you have been nursing an infatuation of sorts with that boy, however irritating he may be.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, asshole," he snapped, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the sliding glass door. His narrowed espresso eyes traveled over Grimmjow's form, taking note of the well-worn leather jacket and ripped jeans that would have looked trite on anyone else but the blunette, and of course, the gray camera that rested against what must have been a chest carved by angels under a thin, white cotton t-shirt.

"I didn't, ya just had yer eyes closed," Grimmjow retorted self-righteously, his cocky grin spreading to an almost impossible width, making Ichigo's heart stutter and his eyes dart away for some relief from the blinding phosphorescence that was the other boy's set of shark-sharp teeth. When he didn't respond, Grimmjow continued.

"What are ya doin' out here all by yerself, anyway? I thought ya were the type to be chattin' it up in there," he nodded his head behind Ichigo, where the party still raged on, teenagers drinking and smoking themselves to death. Ichigo frowned heavily, lines appearing on his usually smooth forehead and his gaze dropped to his sandal-clad feet, out of season with the fall weather approaching rapidly.

He didn't know if Grimmjow exactly meant what his comment had sounded like, but it still made Ichigo's heart clench. The pure shame that the blunette could possibly see that he been used and thrown away like such, like what had been done to him so many times before...well, it was enough to form a knot in his throat that he had to swallow down a couple of times before he could answer.

"I got tired," he replied simply, his baritone voice hoarse as he refused to meet Grimmjow's eyes.

"Tch, all the parties I've seen ya at, I've never seen ya tired," Grimmjow remarked, pulling a white stick from his pocket and a bright orange lighter that he used to light the cigarette after he had placed it between his perfectly shaped lips.

Ichigo felt his eyes narrow a little bit as he stared up at the tall senior, that broad frame towering over his slouched five foot-nine height. What did exactly Grimmjow mean by that? Did he mean that he actually paid attention to what Ichigo was doing?

A tiny spark of excitement flickered in Ichigo's stomach at the notion that Grimmjow watched him when he wasn't looking, that he watched closely enough and enough times to make a statement like that.

Grimmjow exhaled, withdrawing the carcinogen-packed cigarette from his mouth to let his smoke-filled breath cloud the air, the gray, translucent stuff almost pretty as it twirled and curled around itself against the backdrop of the almost starless midnight blue sky.

"Want one?" he asked, gesturing towards Ichigo with the cancer stick before placing it back to its place between his lips and the orangette briefly reflected on how he had never been jealous of a cigarette before then and that the two of them were having a somewhat civil conversation, even if they had hardly said anything thus far.

"No...thank you," Ichigo shook his head and Grimmjow nodded before his blue stare flitted over to stare at the moderately-sized backyard, complete with a child's swing set and sand box. Ichigo took the time to visually devour every bit of the boy's profile, his strong chin and sharp nose that looked like they had been the inspiration for many a Greek statue.

Why were they standing there, again?

However, before Ichigo could say anything he was caught off guard by the solid surface he had been leaning on suddenly gone. His balance left him within a milisecond, causing him to fall back where the sliding glass door had once been, hands flailing to try and grasp anything solid that could stop his descent to the hard ground.

Just when he thought he was about a second away from meeting the floor face first, a large hand wrapped around his bicep and gripped it firmly. Ichigo felt the sharp pull from the hand as he was brought forward and safely onto his feet once more, the hand that he could now identify as Grimmjow's still on the bare part of his upper arm, resulting in him holding back a shudder at the contact.

"Watch where the hell yer goin', Ichimaru," Grimmjow growled out, still not letting go of Ichigo's arm as the latter turned his head to see Gin leaning casually against the frame of the sliding door, his slitted eyes and too wide grin mocking the two of them as he 'looked' in the orangette's direction.

"Oh, Ichi, already moved on from Nnoi, I see? He'll be terribly disappointed," Gin chuckled softly before sighing. "Well, I was goin' to have a smoke, but I wouldn't want ta interrupt the two of ya. Have fun." And with that he grasped the handle of the sliding door with one bony hand, closing it and turning around and walking back to his position at the kitchen counter with the blonde boy, all visible due to the transparent glass.

Grimmjow suddenly dropped Ichigo's arm like it had burned him, taking a step back and lifting his cigarette back to his mouth. Ichigo felt his face start to burn with an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Embarrassment.

It was possibly because the only person he ever did feel embarrassed around was the gorgeous blunette, the only one that could make him feel tongue-tied and unsure and downright unworthy.

"I hate that guy," Grimmjow scoffed, scowling heavily before taking a deep drag and exhaling it through his nose, the image not unlike one of a raging bull blowing proverbial steam out of its nostrils.

"Yeah..." Ichigo trailed off, unsure of what to say. Should he thank the other senior for rescuing from bashing his face into the ground? Or would that be too desperate? Or if he didn't, would that come off as bitchy? Ugh, so many things to think about and in the presence of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Ichigo was completely stripped of his natural ease and allure, the personality that had both men and women flocking to him by the dozen (though he only was attracted to the former.)

It was very frustrating to say the very least. There was quiet for another moment, the only sound being the faint music from inside the house.

"So...," Grimmjow started, making eye contact with Ichigo once more, effectively silencing whatever the orangette had been thinking about before. "You and Jiruga, huh?"

Ichigo felt his heart drop and shatter somewhere inside of his stomach, and he bit his lip and looked away from that cyan gaze in order to hide the blossom pink that was staining his cheekbones and most likely making the slight dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose even more apparent. God, he couldn't even remember the last time he had blushed.

"No...not really," he refuted, still refusing to meet Grimmjow's eyes. He wouldn't, he couldn't. Not when he would most likely find the same either scandalized or cruelly amused look he saw in everyone else's. "Hey, have you seen Nel? I can't find her anywhere," he blurted out, desperately trying to change the subject. He glanced up to see that Grimmjow's sapphire orbs had flickered to look up at the sky as he rubbed his jaw with one broad hand, obviously thinking about Ichigo's inquiry.

"Yeah, I saw 'er in the basement 'bout an hour ago," he finally said, looking back down and his scowl lightened into an almost pleasant look, like...like he saw something he liked. It was so out of place compared to the irreverent, bored glares or the manic grins that were usually showcased on his handsome face.

"Oh." Ichigo could've slapped himself for being so stupid as to not check the basement, where Neliel had likely sought refuge among the more relaxed party-goers. "Well, thanks. I should probably-" he was saying as he turned to pull the sliding door aside but a hand on his wrist stopped him, the same hand that had earlier saved him from falling.

"Wait a sec, Kuros-...Ichigo," Grimmjow commanded, his permanently husky voice simultaneously causing Ichigo to send a confused look, one eyebrow raised, his way and an involuntary shudder to run down the orangette's spine. The fact that the blue-haired senior had called him by his first name was almost enough to make him doubt that this encounter was real, that this wasn't some amazing dream his mind played while he was sound asleep.

Grimmjow's eyes were positively luminescent, full of something Ichigo had no name for. It wasn't quite mirth and it wasn't quite lust (something he was adept at spotting), it was something in between, a kind of restrained eagerness that made that forever blue even brighter, making them glow in the dark as his warm touch didn't leave Ichigo's arm.

"Yes?" Ichigo questioned, his voice coming out much softer than he ever meant it to.

"What are ya doing tomorrow night?"

Now Ichigo had been asked this question many, many a time before and how he usually responded was with a coy smile, a wink, a "well, you, of course."

But not this time.

He felt his lips part into a silent gasp, seeing that Grimmjow was completely serious and was he asking what Ichigo thought he was asking? His mouth opened and closed several times, useless sputters the only thing spilling forth.

"W-well, n-nothing, I guess," he answered truthfully. He felt an excitement well up in his chest and throat, seizing his heart and making it beat thrice times as fast, but he suppressed as much as he could.

There was no way that Grimmjow was-

"Wanna go out with me tomorrow, then?"

"Like a date?" Ichigo had asked before he could stop himself, the words pushing past his lips effortlessly. Grimmjow's own full, Cupid's bow lips spread into a smile, showcasing his sharper than average canines and he shrugged his shoulders underneath his leather jacket.

"Duh, kitten," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Ichigo dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from swooning rather pathetically at the pet name. He had heard the blunette use it on his conquests throughout the years and it always had the same reaction, however random (and a tad bit strange) it may be.

Determined to regain some pride that he had lost in his tragically blushing virgin-like reaction to Grimmjow asking him out, Ichigo straightened up, running a hand through his nearly shoulder-length, shaggy tangerine locks, flashing his best bewitching mile that made those exposed to it weak at the knees and send their heart a-fluttering. It was almost as good as Grimmjow's, but whereas the other senior boy's smile was mostly predatory and all teeth, Ichigo's was gentler and it reached his now sparkling iced mocha latte eyes.

He placed his hand on the sliding door handle, pulling it back and stepping through the portal, almost as if he were going to walk away and say nothing else. But then he cocked his head over his shoulder, that smile that could send anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, to their knees still on his handsome face.

"Pick me up at seven," Ichigo affirmed and before Grimmjow could blink an eye, he was already in the kitchen, walking past Gin and the blonde boy from before. However, in his euphoric state (because Grimmjow Jaeger-fucking-jaques had just asked out him on a date and wasn't that just insane, because he truly thought that the gorgeous boy had found him to be insufferable) he almost missed what the silver-haired teenager was saying as he passed by.

"Maa, 'm jus' so happy that Grimmy has found someone ta use ta help 'im get over Mila. Poor thin', she broke his heart," Gin giggled softly, the air carrying his words to Ichigo's ear, where they immediately curtailed and aimed for his heart.

He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, frozen like one of Medusa's statues, his eyes widened to epic proportions.

Of course. He should have known better than to think that someone like Grimmjow, talented and incredibly god-like in every way, would ever want a serious relationship with someone like him, whose only talent was in the bedroom.

Ichigo turned his head to look over his shoulder once more, catching sight of Grimmjow's blurred, shadowy profile through the glass sliding door, the bud of his cigarette the only light that illuminated his perfect face, casting shadows on everything else and making the blunette look like some kind of divine entity, light against the darkness. Ichigo bit down on his lip, resolved.

Maybe he would never be able to be with Grimmjow in the way he wanted, but he'd be damned if he was going to let the one chance to be close to the boy he had admired from afar for three years slip by.