This is rated M for a reason. I don't click that button for shits and giggles.

Enjoy.

-I'm Psycho, Baby-

"Strip."

Ichigo's butter almond eyes widen to impossible proportions as he considers the stranger's request, "What?"

"Ya heard me," the escaped psychopath coos, his feral grin making Ichigo's heart skip a beat.

Confused? Let's rock the clock back an hour…

Ichigo hurried down the sidewalk, his coat doing little to dissuade the pouring rain. He was fully soaked and freezing by this point, but there was only about a block to go before he would make it back to his safe and warm house. Work had gone late due to a deadline, and Ichigo had been the unfortunate rookie that had been forced to stay behind and complete the project. He loved his job, he really did, but sometimes his coworkers took advantage of his helpful nature.

Now it was nearly midnight, the crescent moon huge and bright even as the rain continued to pelt his young frame. The darkness and loneliness of the streets compelled him to remember the radio broadcasts of days' past, the ones warning the public that there had been a recent breakout from Karakura's mental institution, the infamous Los Noches Asylum. It was rumored to have the country's most deranged and unstable criminals, the ones that were too unpredictable and could not be controlled in a penitentiary. The man in question was six foot three, nearly 200 pounds of muscle, and an impossible name to pronounce. European? Ichigo couldn't quite remember, but the newscaster had proceeded to state that this young man was extremely dangerous even if unarmed and that he would be recognizable by blue slash tattoo markings from his eyes and human and animal jawbone tattoos that sleeved his left arm. The public was urged to keep all windows and doors locked at all times and the city's police force was on full patrol until further word would be released.

Ichigo pushed such thoughts from his mind as he pulled his apartment keys free from his coat pocket, his fingers shaking slightly from the cold.

Or at least, he kept telling himself that.

'Escaped patient G. Jaegerjaques is unpredictable and wild in nature, a sociopath with anarchist-like ambitions. He is extremely intelligent which makes him that much more lethal. He has the ability to charm but the inability to truly feel…'

Ichigo cursed as he dropped his keys. He heard them hit the cement with a plop due to the heavy rain. He bent over to retrieve them, sliding the key in easily to allow him access.

He hadn't even taken a step inside when his breath left him as he felt a force come at him from behind, the cold edge of a blade sliding along his exposed throat.

The man's free hand was wrapped around and on his chest, pinning him to the doorway with his body, the blade as cold as the rain against Ichigo's skin.

All the information Ichigo had just been recalling internally from the news programs wrenched in his gut as he felt the stranger's warm breath on his ear.

"Heyya," he breathed, making Ichigo's knees buckle. His heart was ready to pound out of his chest. He said nothing, only squeezed his eyes shut and prayed.

"It's 'a lil' wet out here," he said conversationally, the blade still kissing the soft skin that covered Ichigo's jugular, "How 'bout we go inside and warm up?"

Taking the hint, Ichigo took a step forward, his legs shaky, his stomach in knots from the adrenaline now coursing through his veins. Now he wished he had better neighbors. Now he wished that he wasn't such a hermit and didn't keep to himself most of the time. Now he wished that he hadn't been a cheap bastard and invested in a safer house in a safer neighborhood.

He wondered idly how many days it would take the police to discover his body. His stomach wrenched again and Ichigo was dry-heaving, but the stranger had already pushed him further inside the house and pushed him away, letting him fall to the wood flooring. Ichigo stayed on his hands and knees, willing himself to throw up, but nothing would come.

"Ya scared?" the stranger taunted in that deliciously sexy low tone, "Ya afraid of the big bad Sexta? I hope 'ya are. I like screamers. I like 'em a lot."

Ichigo finally turned his head back to stare at the man who had abducted him, into his own home, no less. The irony.

And when Ichigo turned his head, he really was afraid, because the stranger was so fucking gorgeous Ichigo felt his throat constrict. He swallowed. GOOD KAMI IN HEAVEN, HOW COULD YOU CREATE SUCH AN EVIL MASTERPIECE?

The escapee was now taking off his black hoodie, unzipping it and tossing it to the floor as if it were of no importance. The rain had soaked through the flimsy material, exposing Ichigo to an extreme athletic body and muscles that could only be earned by discipline and heavy weight training. The white wife beater was nearly see-through due to the rain, which was perfectly fine by Ichigo. His dark jeans were plastered to his legs, which made Ichigo envious that he was at least six inches taller than him.

Then his eyes worked up those fabulously flawless arms, over the jawbone tattoos up to a sculpted face. His expression was dark, but his cobalt blue eyes flashed with intelligence and chaos, making Ichigo think of a hungry animal.

A predator, like a tiger or a panther. A big, sleek panther…

FUCK. I'M HARD.

The blue marking tattoos around his eyes were somehow suited to him, not looking elementary at all. Ichigo wondered how much they must have hurt. But what shocked Ichigo most of all was how blue the man's hair was, even as it was soaked through and pushed back off of his forehead, he looked like he was ready for a shampoo commercial.

Ichigo was embarrassed by the bulge in his pants and shifted his legs, even though he barely moved on the floor. He felt like a small animal, an animal that knew instinctively to stay still or the predator would pursue.

Then Ichigo's eyes fell on the silver edge of the dangerous blade the killer held in his left hand and Ichigo found himself wondering why he was, in fact, still alive.

"Why me?" Ichigo asked softly, not stumbling over his speech at all. Given so much time to study the specimen before him, Ichigo was surprised himself that his tone didn't even sound too frightened.

Perhaps to deal with the shock, his mind was allowing him to treat this as a secret pleasure. Maybe even a rape fantasy. It didn't help that he was gay either.

The escapee drew closer, his black boots making hollow sounds on the wood as he approached. Ichigo scuttled back like a crab about two feet before the man squatted, fingering the blade in his other hand without looking at it, his eyes locked on Ichigo's.

Ichigo fought the urge to moan. What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he be turned on by this? The man was looking at him like he was going to devour him, consume him alive. Or dead. Ichigo knew death was certainly a hobby of this escapee. Ichigo remembered the newscaster saying that there was an indeterminate amount of lives lost to this man due to lack of evidence on some, but the body count was well into the double digits. Men. Women. Young. Old. Asian. White. Black. Hispanic. Skinny. Fat. It didn't matter. He'd killed over a dozen people in Germany before they'd tracked him to Japan, his original birth country. He was also accused of killing several American tourists, torturing them for days before cutting their hearts from their chests, cutting them up, and shoving them down each other's throats so that the coroner was even nauseous upon discovering that a woman's heart matter was inside one of the men's throats.

Ichigo wondered if he'd be tortured for days too, whether the psychopath would shove his own heart down his dead throat or if he would eat it and become the ultimate monster.

The escapee smiled, exposing sharp-looking canines which only made heat pool in Ichigo's stomach, "Ya know wha? 'Yer the first person 'ta ask me that."

Ichigo was now sitting on his ass, staring at him. The blue-haired sociopath circled him slowly like a shark approaching chum water, "Ya didn't say 'Wha'd'ya want?' Yer not tellin' me where all 'yer money is. Yer' not telling me 'ya got a family or a girl that loves 'ya. Ya aren't cryin', and yer' not beggin'. Does yer' life suck that fuckin' much?"

Ichigo tensed as the blue devil got on his haunches again right in front of him, only a few inches separating them from each other. Ichigo just stared at him, too numb to say or really do anything as the man continued, "Yer either content 'ta die or really fuckin' smart. And looking at you, I think it's 'cuz you've got brains. I like that. I like smart people. Hate killin' 'em, y'know? Got enough dumb bastards in the world, but only a handful try 'ta make somethin' of themselves and cure cancer and shit."

Ichigo cringed as the man lifted the blade and ran it along the top of his cheek, directly below his left eye, "What's 'yer name?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Ichigo replied robotically, gasping as the blade descended to caress his bottom lip, "I'm 23. I live alone. Except for my cat."

The man's leer was both disturbing and charming, "Yah? A cat, huh? What kinda cat?"

"I don't know. She was a stray," I babble as the blade slowly runs in circles on my cheek and down my neck, "She's black with yellow eyes. She would always come around so I took her in. Her name is Yoruichi."

"So where's Yoruichi now?"

I gulp, "If she's a smart cat, she's hiding. She knows…she knows there's a deadlier predator in the house now."

The man chuckled, then began barking with laughter as he suddenly pushed Ichigo hard in the chest, making his skull crack against the wood flooring. Ichigo gasped as the man straddled his hips, the blade now pressed firmly against his vulnerable jugular.

"I don't got a reason for why I picked you," he said silkily, "but I'm glad I did. I don't need a reason for anything I do. I just do things. It's my nature. And just because I listen 'ta my nature, they tried 'ta put me inside a lil' white box and a straightjacket. It's unhealthy 'ta deny 'yer true nature. I know who I am, Ichigo Kurosaki. Do you?"

Ichigo was surprised by this turn of events. He had never expected the psychopath to talk to him this much. How long had it been now? Minutes? An hour? Maybe he liked to fuck with people mentally before beginning the torture. Made sense.

But what else was he supposed to do? He was going to die anyway, right? Might as well tell the truth to whoever would listen, even if it had to be an escaped sociopathic nutcase.

"No, not really," Ichigo said rather strongly, drawing his brows together, "I mean, in the grand scheme of things, I'm no one. I'm not important. I mean, if I die, yeah, I have a few friends and some family left that'll miss me, but, honestly, I can't give you ten reasons why you shouldn't slash my throat right now."

The devil leaned into Ichigo, his face so close that Ichigo could feel his warm breath pouring over his face. The man's smile was back, that shit-eating grin making Ichigo nervous and excited at the same time.

"Oh fuck me," he says with that leer, "I think I'm gettin' hard, strawberry!"

He laughs as Ichigo's head snaps to the side, the blow stunning him. Ichigo can't help gasping as he watches the escapee lift the blade and plunge it into the floorboard right next to his head.

"Ya haven't screamed 'fer me yet," he said, lowering his head to lick a trail from Ichigo's temple to his ear as he whispers, "but'cha will. I fuckin' promise 'ya that."

Ichigo's entire body trembles at the words, making the psychopath grin as he gets off of him. Ichigo gets up on his elbows, staring at the intruder and wondering what's going to happen next.

Before Ichigo can form another coherent thought, he sees the man pull a sleek black gun from the back of his pants, a silencer attached. Huh. So the guy wasn't so completely unhinged that he didn't consider the possibility of such a loud noise drawing the wrong kinds of attention.

He pointed the gun directly at Ichigo, only a few feet away, the barrel aiming right between Ichigo's eyes, "Strip."

...Now you're caught up. The clock's still ticking.

"What?" Ichigo almost whispers, his heart ready to pound right out of his chest.

"Ya heard me," he coos, hitting the light switch for the living room area. A lamp turned on, allowing Ichigo to appreciate the destructive creation before him even more.

But it was also vice versa. The predator was returning the favor, noticing the soaking wet boy on the floor, taking in his long legs and nice shoulders, even if most of him was covered in a trench coat and slacks. The strawberry's hair was an unbelievable shade of orange, but who was he to judge? His own cotton candy blue hair had caused him enough trouble in his lifetime. Shit. It was part of the reason he had started killing in the first place. When fuckers didn't know how to keep their filthy mouths shut, he'd shut 'em for 'em.

He wasn't a fucking psychopath. At least, he didn't think he was. Different, definitely. Unhinged, sometimes, only when he was blinded by rage. A menace to society, there weren't enough words to describe that. He knew what he was and he didn't want to change anything about himself. Like he'd told the strawberry, he did shit his way, and he would continue to do shit his way until the day he stopped breathing.

He was arrogant, selfish, and rude, but he knew what he wanted. He didn't deny himself anything. That's why people feared him: because he, unlike them, was truly free. Adrenaline and fulfilling pleasure were the two advantages to living such a lifestyle. Life was never boring, never predictable.

It had only become boring and predictable when he'd been captured and taken to the white sterilized maze the white coats liked to call an institution. It was more than that. It was an obstruction of justice. It kept things in that needed to be out, needed to be expressed. Of course in all the months that Grimmjow had been in there, he'd come to the realization that he'd wanted to kill nearly every single one of them. The only one he'd seemed to get along with was a sleepy-eyed dark-haired nurse that had been in charge of his cellblock. He'd actually treated Grimmjow like a human being, even if he was in charge of sedating him and giving him a mountain of other pills, but he'd been cool. Grimmjow hadn't wanted to kill him, so he'd had to find another means of escape.

And he had. But he didn't want to think about that now, because the berry was giving him such a delicious expression he wanted to carve it off of his face and preserve it forever.

But that would just be a waste, because Grimmjow wanted to know what other expressions the berry could make. The sounds too. He loved sounds, especially the ones he was anticipating from the berry when he was fucking him through the wood floor.

Grimmjow was hard, could feel his erection pressing up against the wet fabric of his jeans. He growled low in his throat: it'd been centuries since he'd gotten laid. The hospital had kept him away from the other patients due to his high risk and he hadn't had the slightest bit of attraction towards Starrk, his designated nurse in that hellhole.

And right now, he wanted the berry head so bad he could already feel himself leaking.

So he cocked his stolen Beretta 92FS pistol, his new toy. He preferred knives, but there was nothing like holding someone's life in your trigger finger, knowing one moment they're breathing and the next they aren't. Chaos and fate were queer like that.

"Do it," he rumbled.

The berry got to his feet, stared at the gun again and then finally, finally removed his tan trench coat. It fell heavily to the floor. Ichigo tugged on his burgundy tie, letting it slip like satin to the floor. He missed the psychopath licking his lips.

Next, Ichigo unbuttoned his long-sleeved light yellow collared shirt and slipped it off of his shoulders, goose bumps racing over his cold flesh as it was exposed to the air.

And to the murderer. Heat gathered in his face and trailed down the back of his neck and he looked away as he began to unbuckle his belt and slide his black pants down his chiseled hips and lean legs. Even though he was a workaholic, he managed to find time to stay in shape.

Ichigo looked at the killer again, meeting his eyes but he was shaking his head from side to side, bobbing the gun slightly, "Yer not done yet."

Ichigo made a small whining noise in the back of his throat as he ran his fingers along the edge of his wet silk boxers. He was beyond embarrassed. He felt humiliated.

Finally, finally, he stepped out of his boxers and stood fully exposed to the blue devil. Ichigo felt as if his entire body were blushing as the self-appointed Sexta studied him intently, his eyes full of heat and darkness and Ichigo covered his growing erection with both hands, praying that the Sexta hadn't been paying attention to that certain area of anatomy.

Ichigo had to say something to get the man to stop staring at him like he was going to eat him, "W-what's your name?"

"You can call me Grimmjow," he says with a serious expression, "Yer gonna be screamin' it real soon, but not yet."

Ichigo shivered at the suggestive words, and then stiffened at Grimmjow's next words.

"Touch yourself."

"W-what?"

"Ya can't be that fuckin' naïve. Jack off. Masturbate. Now."

"I-I…Grimmjow, I can't…"

Grimmjow cocked the Beretta, making the berry stiffen again, "Yer talkin' like 'ya got a choice."

"I-I…" Ichigo had never felt so embarrassed in his entire life, "I-I need to sit down. Please?"

Grimmjow lowered the gun and moved towards a wooden chair Ichigo used for dining and dragged it to the middle of the barren room, waving his gun at it with a smirk on his face, "This should be interesting."

"You're sick," Ichigo couldn't help saying as he sat down, the Beretta once again trailed on his face.

"I'm a psycho, baby," Grimmjow purred, laughter in his lightning blue eyes, "Yer just embarrassed. The only reason you are is 'cuz society tells 'ya to be. It's one of the most natural things in the world. Besides, yer cock's practically dripping already."

Ichigo grasped the base of his cock despite himself, the words falling on his ears like poisonous honey. He didn't want to listen, but it was as if he had to. The voice made him…want to…he wanted to so bad, but Grimmjow's eyes made him too self-conscious.

Grimmjow was standing about ten feet away, the lamp backlighting Ichigo, giving him an excellent view. Ichigo's mouth felt dry, and he couldn't look at Grimmjow anymore so he closed his eyes and started to stroke himself slowly.

With his eyes closed, it was easier.

"You're so hard," Grimmjow commented, his voice husky, "so you're a fairy, huh? Ya like being pounded up the ass?"

"Hn," Ichigo whined, spreading his legs more, his grip tightening as he began to move faster, his precum a natural lubricant. He arched his back slightly, his eyes still closed as he imagined his hand as Grimmjow's.

I'M SICK. I'M SICK. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?

"You little whore."

Ichigo was panting by this point. All he wanted was to cum.

"Look at me."

He couldn't. Not yet, not yet…

It came as a dark, guttural bark, "LOOK. AT. ME!"

Ichigo snapped his eyes open to realize Grimmjow had moved and was now only a few inches in front of him, his eyes locked on Ichigo's. Ichigo adjusted his legs, knowing what he needed to finish himself but still unsure of doing something so dirty in front of Grimmjow.

"I can't…I can't…" Ichigo panted, his hand slowing even though his dick was straining.

Grimmjow laughed, gripping Ichigo's hair tight enough to make Ichigo cry out, the muzzle of the gun pressed directly against his temple, "Come on, Kurosaki. Let go of your stupid, stupid rules! Fuck them, fuck it all! Do it. Come on, do it!"

Ichigo sucked in a breath, adjusted his legs so that the balls of his feet were bracing against the end of the seat, his free hand moving to his ass. He thrust a finger into his opening, pumping it in and out only a few times before screaming as cum soaked his hand. His entire body tensed, his muscles constricting as he came down from his orgasm. He fell off the edge of the chair onto the cold floor, boneless, breathing heavily. He was sticky and felt dirty and corrupt and wrong.

BUT OH SO GOOD.

"See? That wasn't so hard. Fucking slut," Grimmjow said before unceremoniously kicking Ichigo in the side. He whined, rolling over and breathing as heavy as he had been only moments before.

Grimmjow continued, "Needed something in your hole to get off. Just a finger? Are ya that tight, berry?"

Ichigo sucked in a breath and moaned, disgusted with himself that he was becoming hard again.

Ichigo grunted in pain as Grimmjow kicked him again, forcing Ichigo onto his stomach. He heard Grimmjow move across the room, but Ichigo didn't dare.

He was back soon enough though to give him another command.

"Get on your hands and knees."

Ichigo didn't question it, knowing it would be pointless. It would just resort in more kicking, or something far worse.

Once he was on his hands and knees, he cried out as Grimmjow slapped his ass with all his might.

Grimmjow chuckled, "And they call me the psycho. You're the little slut getting off on your kidnapper's voice! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know," Ichigo admitted, wanting to touch himself again. His ass was throbbing from the hit, and Ichigo had a sick thought that he wanted Grimmjow to do it again.

COME ON, COME ON, I WANT YOU TO DO IT…

"I'll tell 'ya what's wrong with you," Grimmjow said, slapping his other ass cheek just as hard. Ichigo locked his jaw and grit his teeth, "Yer a fuckin' masochist. Ya get off on shame and pain, two of my favorite things."

Grimmjow continued to slap his ass, over and over again, until Ichigo felt tears pricking his eyes and his ass felt like it was on fire. His arms finally gave out and his cock hurt as it was crushed between his body and the floor, but the friction was wonderful so Ichigo began to move his hips, uncaring that he was getting off on this delicious torture.

"Look at you," Grimmjow chuckled low in his throat, "Fucking whore. Your ass is as red as 'yer name."

Ichigo mewled as he felt Grimmjow's large hands spreading his ass cheeks.

"It's puckering. It wants 'ta say hello," Grimmjow said, suddenly plunging one of his warm fingers inside without any warning, "Let's see how hungry it is."

"Gah!" Ichigo arched his back, now back on his knees as Grimmjow used his other hand to hold his hip in place. Ichigo's arms were straining, so he rested his elbows on the floor. He stuffed his fingers in his mouth to keep from crying out.

"Ya like that, huh?" Grimmjow husks, "How 'bout some more then?"

Ichigo screamed against his fist, biting into it hard enough to draw blood as Grimmjow plunged three of his fingers down to the second knuckle inside of him.

And then the fingers were gone and Ichigo felt his head reeling again as he was hit, Grimmjow's body molded to his back, his hand holding Ichigo's chin with an iron grip, forcing him to look over his shoulder and back at the sadist, "Put your fingers in your mouth again and I'll cut 'em off. I wanna hear 'ya scream."

Grimmjow's free hand reached around Ichigo's front and tugged harshly on his cock, making him cry out.

Grimmjow bit the shell of Ichigo's ear, "That's better."

Ichigo gasped for air as Grimmjow flipped him over onto his back, sliding him against the floorboards to bring him closer to Grimmjow who was on his knees. He spread Ichigo's legs over his thighs, one hand holding tightly onto the base of Ichigo's cock and the other holding the knife that had been imbedded in the floorboard. Ichigo tensed slightly but shivered when Grimmjow ran the naked blade over the soft skin at the juncture between his leg pelvis.

"I should cut it off," Grimmjow laughed, "I should cut it off and fuck you with it. You'd like that, huh? Then ya can really fuck 'yerself."

"N-no," Ichigo trembled as Grimmjow began to stroke him off, his thumb pressing into the slit hard enough to make Ichigo hiss and arch his back, "N-no, please, just…"

"Just what?" Grimmjow said, sliding the blade over Ichigo's hip, making Ichigo cry out at the sudden pain. The wound wasn't deep, but the coolness of the blade would ensure scarring, "Just what, Ichigo?"

Ichigo mewls as Grimmjow's tongue traces the small incision, his other hand still languidly stroking Ichigo off.

"Maybe I should just fuck ya with this knife," Grimmjow purrs while creating another shallow cut below his right pectoral. Ichigo gasped again, feeling the warmth seeping from his skin and sliding slowly down his side onto the floor, "Then I'd hear your real screams, wouldn't I?"

"Grimmjow," Ichigo gasps, his fingers tangling in damp blue locks as Grimmjow begins to suck on the wound he had just created. He doesn't spend long on it before moving his tongue higher, circling a stiff nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking harshly.

"H-hn-nah!" Ichigo exclaims.

Ichigo's fingers tug harshly and Grimmjow lifts his head and gives Ichigo another big leering smile, "This is who you really are, Ichi. You're a mindless animal with mindless wants. This is what everyone wants 'ta be but don't know how. Ya know that, yeah?"

"Kiss me," Ichigo said breathlessly, "Please kiss me, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow indulged him, attacking his mouth. It was all biting and teeth, but Grimmjow was very pleased to have the berry's tongue fight him, his teeth nipping, his fingers digging so harshly into Grimmjow's scalp Grimmjow anticipated blood.

Grimmjow bit Ichigo's bottom lip as he withdrew, leaning back on his arms, staring at the debauched creature before him who was looking at him with glassy brown eyes.

"Show me what'cha are," Grimmjow growled, "Show me what 'ya fuckin' want."

Ichigo managed to sit up, his legs still splayed over Grimmjow's thighs, his cuts burning but in a delicious way that did nothing to stop his lust. His eyes went impossibly wide as Grimmjow held out the knife towards him, the blade clean, which made Ichigo even hotter.

HE LICKED THE BLADE. HE ISN'T AFRAID. NOT OF ANYTHING.

"Come on," Grimmjow challenged, and Ichigo snapped.

He grabbed the knife from Grimmjow's hand, trailing it down Grimmjow's chest, over the damp white wife beater, debating.

Grimmjow really was insane. Why would he do something so stupid? Handing a knife over to his captive?

MAYBE I'M NOT A CAPTIVE. MAYBE I'M…SOMETHING MORE.

Ichigo faintly wondered if he had been infected by Stockhome Syndrome already; gaining feelings for his abductor in such a short amount of time. He slid the blade across Grimmjow's throat, his dick hardening to the point of pain.

He gripped the front of the wife beater in his free fist and slashed it with the knife, down down down, until Grimmjow's perfect chest was exposed to him. And it was perfect, even though it was marred with multiple scars, one of them looking like it had been life threatening. Ichigo wanted to lick all of them, over and over again.

He pushed the material off of Grimmjow's shoulders, breathing heavily as he moved the knife carefully, oh so carefully, down that marble perfection.

Unable to help himself, he made a small cut just over Grimmjow's heart, marveling at the crimson that immediately began to pool at the incision, a single trail of blood running down his abs like a seeking river.

Ichigo threw the knife to the side, uncaring of where it fell as he gripped Grimmjow's sides, his tongue running along the trail the blood had taken, licking up until he reached the wound. He moaned deep in his throat and adjusted his legs, trying to pull Grimmjow closer to him.

Grimmjow growled, picking Ichigo up by the ass and setting him in his lap, squeezing his ass as Ichigo sucked and bit and scratched at his chest.

Grimmjow laughed lustily, pulling Ichigo's head up and gripping his neck almost affectionately, "Ah, now I can fuck 'ya."

Ichigo heard himself laugh, LAUGH.

I'M INSANE. I'VE GONE COMPLETELY INSANE AND…AND…I LOVE IT.

Grimmjow's smile was on the brink of evil as he pushed Ichigo off of him, making him fall back on his back. Ichigo smiles like a fool as he waits for Grimmjow to unbutton his jeans and pull his ready cock free. He can't help marveling over the girth and the length. Ichigo was no virgin, but he had only slept with two men in his life and he hadn't had anyone in his life in the last three years.

Grimmjow was a beast, a beast that would destroy him.

And Ichigo was letting him.

Grimmjow stood up and stared down at Ichigo once his pants were removed, naked and gorgeous and still barely bleeding. Ichigo got on his hands and knees, worshiping his abductor with his eyes.

"Suck me," Grimmjow commanded, and Ichigo felt himself scoot across the floor on his knees until he was face-to-face with Grimmjow's dripping length.

Ichigo wasted no time in taking it into his mouth, sucking it for all it was worth. He sucked his cheeks, trying to force more of his impressive length down his throat, only choking once.

He didn't know how he did it, but soon his nose was pressed into blue pubic hair and Grimmjow was gripping the back of his head with both hands, trying to push himself deeper. Ichigo was afraid Grimmjow would tear straight through his throat, maybe even through the back of his head, Grimmjow's movements becoming aggressive, Ichigo's throat burning.

His eyes watered as he felt Grimmjow stiffen and pull Ichigo's head back, guiding his cock so that thick streams of hot cum landed across Ichigo's cheeks and chin, a bit of it even getting into his eye and making him wipe at his eye until it stopped stinging.

Ichigo's tongue moved out of it's own accord, greedily lapping up what Grimmjow had given him, and what he couldn't reach with his tongue, he got with his fingers.

"You cum slut," Grimmjow said as he watched Ichigo's ministrations, "Does it taste that good? Ya want more?"

"Yes," Ichigo said mindlessly, pulling on Grimmjow's cock and trying to put it back in his mouth. Grimmjow pushed him back until he fell back on his ass, Grimmjow falling to his knees and spreading Ichigo's legs with an audible snap.

He gave no warning.

Ichigo screamed as Grimmjow entered him in one smooth motion, spearing him impossibly deep. His thrusts were crazed, his fingers digging into Ichigo's hipbones hard enough to turn them purple and blue.

"Ah! Ah! More!" Ichigo moaned, their bodies slapping together over and over again, "More, Grimmjow! Deeper!"

"Fuck yeah!" Grimmjow laughs, twisting his hips before snapping them forward again and striking Ichigo's prostate. Ichigo screamed; he felt as if Grimmjow were tearing him in half, but he couldn't deny the amazing pleasure that was laced in the pain.

He came without Grimmjow touching him, his cum sliding along their sweating chests, Grimmjow biting into Ichigo's neck at his moment of climax, his moan deep and guttural and all animal.

Ichigo fell back, lifeless, boneless, spineless. He could feel blood and cum on his chest and could feel Grimmjow's cum spill out of his ass as he speared Ichigo one more time before withdrawing, making him feel strangely empty.

When Grimmjow pulled out, Ichigo somehow managed to keep his legs firmly locked around Grimmjow, which made him chuckle.

"You're such a fucking cock whore. Your hole still not satisfied?"

"Why? Ya can't get it up?" Ichigo shot back, undulating his hips as his legs stayed locked around Grimmjow's hips, "That all ya got, Spunky?"

Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed, his chest heaving before he grabbed a hold of his softening cock and entered Ichigo again, making Ichigo throw his head back and sigh deeply.

Ichigo's drained cock was trying to come back to life as Grimmjow said, "I think I want'cha alive 'fer a lil' longer."

….

Three months later.

...

Ichigo sat at his desk quietly filling out another stack of paperwork his administrator had bestowed on him that morning when he heard Ikkaku and Matsumoto arguing over the remote to the mounted television provided for the bull pen area of the boring corporate building.

Ikkaku argued that it needed to be turned up louder and someone agreed, and what was said on the television piqued Ichigo's interest immediately:

'The cross-county man hunt for the escapee known as Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, the first and only patient to ever escape Las Noches Asylum in bustling Karakura, has officially been called to a close by the president of public safety. Chief Inspector Kuchiki believes that the patient, nicknamed Sexta by other inmates and serial murderers, will only be apprehended upon suffering another major psychotic break. We have him live with us from the Administration of Public Safety and Security. Kuchiki-sama, what do you have to say about the failure to procure and contain this murderous beast?'

Ichigo moved slowly from his desk, approaching the television without drawing too much attention to himself. The screen changed from the anchorwoman known as Soi Fon to recorded footage of Inspector Kuchiki, his face stern.

'Although the man hunt has been officially called off due to monetary reasons and shortage of man power, I am still confident that we will see this man brought to justice for his crimes. All officers are aware and alert of the dangers surrounding this man and have been ordered to take him dead or alive. He is quite the unique individual; his flamboyant appearance and egotistical nature will ultimately be his downfall.'

"What a bunch of crap," Ikkaku mumbled, making Ichigo turn his head in his direction, "They ain't never gonna catch 'im. It's been too long. He's probably already fled the country and is butchering sheep in some country nobody's ever heard of by now."

"He could be dead," Matsumoto said with a shrug of her shoulders, "Who knows? Whack jobs off themselves all the time."

"But they didn't find a body," Hitsugaya piped up from his desk, holding a mug of steaming coffee, "You know how the Chief Investigator of Karakura is. Byakuya-dono will not give up so easily. He does not take defeat lightly."

"I think he's kinda sexy," Halibel said in her deep feminine timber when a police-documented photo of Grimmjow was on the television, "Look at him. I wouldn't mind having a piece of that before I die."

"There's something wrong with 'yer head," Ikkaku said with a shake of his head, "What is it with women and their creepy fantasies?"

"I can be a psycho for ya anytime, Hal," Kain said, offering her a wink that made the others laugh.

Ichigo just smiled gently before looking at his watch. It was almost five, time to head home.

"I'll catch you guys tomorrow, yeah?" Ichigo said a few minutes later when everyone was gathering their coats and heading home to their families and lovers.

"Don't forget we're goin' drinking tomorrow night," Ikkaku said, pointing a finger at Ichigo, "Matsumoto's payin'."

"You know I hate you, right?" Matsumoto said vehemently before slapping Ikkaku upside the head before walking out of the shared office. Ikkaku mumbled something about her being a bitch but Ichigo was no longer interested in what his coworkers were up to and left the office before any more drama could unfold that he didn't want to be a part of.

He whistled as he walked home, hands in his coat pockets, wondering what to make for dinner. He even stopped at a convenience store on the way home, deciding that Yoruichi deserved a nice can of tuna fish.

When he got home, he toed off his shoes and went to the kitchen where he prepared Yoruichi's tuna. She continued to rub along his legs until he bent down and set her plate on the floor. He left her to her special meal and wandered through the house, slowly stripping out of his work clothes as he went, ignoring the uncharacteristically messy apartment. He'd always been a neat freak, but now he felt as if his house was actually a home, that it was livable and quite broken in.

He looked at the dirty dishes splayed on the floor, table, and rug and shrugged his shoulders. He'd do it when he felt like it.

He heard the shower running and smiled as he opened the door to the bathroom, staring through the glass of the shower at his lover.

Taking off his boxers, he stepped farther into the bathroom and slid the glass over and stepped inside the warmth, his fingers trailing over the strong muscles of Grimmjow's back.

Grimmjow stopped his ministrations of soaping his now dyed black hair, turning in his lover's arms to pull his face towards him and kiss him. Ichigo tugged on the black locks, missing the blue but unable to deny how sexy he was with the black. The contrast to his cobalt eyes was spectacular.

And to think all Grimmjow needed to do was wear a long-sleeved shirt and sunglasses to go out in public now. Ichigo had even bought him colored contacts and an extremely expensive foundation to cover up the markings around his eyes when they were feeling especially daring.

But Ichigo had been blown away at the response of the public to the seeming crisis. He'd seen more than a few punk boys now sporting the blue markings, freshly tatted on their faces as some kind of statement. Maybe they were fans. Maybe they just hated the government. Who fucking knew? Grimmjow had laughed for hours over the fact that he'd caused a fashion trend. He could walk in public without the makeup now, being the daring psychopath that he was, but apparently he looked so damned different that barely anybody batted an eyelash at him. To think something so simple could camouflage him, something so expected of any escapee.

In a few more months they were planning on leaving anyway. Ichigo's longtime friend, Urahara, had connections when it came to unmentionables such as fake id's, passports, and social security cards. Ichigo had always had an itch to travel but had never left Karakura. Now he could, and he couldn't wait to travel place to place, no worries, no inhibitions.

Who knew that through kidnapping one could become truly free?

"Wha'd'ya want for dinner?" Ichigo asked after another breathless kiss, recipes floating in his head that he'd been dying to try. Ever since Grimmjow had entered his life, he'd stopped taking the world so seriously.

He'd loosened his tie at work.

He spoke his mind, told his coworkers to fuck off when they were trying to bully him into doing their paperwork.

He watched the cooking channel and found that he enjoyed the activity.

He fed Yoruichi more exciting things then her usual dry cat food.

He took sex when he wanted it, and that was never difficult, considering Grimmjow's libido was impossible to sate.

He didn't ask for permission for anything anymore.

Somehow, Grimmjow had molded him into quite the spoiled, independent brat.

"How 'bout Italian?" Grimmjow said, lifting Ichigo up by the ass to press him up against the tiled wall of the shower, the steam and heat making them even more excited.

Ichigo locked his legs around Grimmjow's hips, a small smile tugging on his lips as he pulled on Grimmjow's bottom lip, "It'll take me a while to make the sauce from scratch."

"Wear the apron again."

"With the thong or without?"

Grimmjow chuckled, lifting Ichigo to position him above his waiting cock, "Surprise me."

THE END.