A day later, or what he assumed was a day, Ichigo found himself standing inside of a dingy grey, cramped room. The stone walls looked tattered, cracks spreading across the surface traveling to the ceiling. Barely any light filled the small space, provided from the tiny window too high to properly look outside.

So this is where they kept Orihime?

Nothing screamed comfortable about the space, from the rotting stool in the corner to the thin rusty bed on the side, but he figured they weren't treating this like a vacation for the girl. She was a prisoner and would be treated as such.

Locking her away, forgetting her in this room established yet another ploy to get her to crumble and crack under pressure. A room like this one would drive anyone insane, insane enough to submit, after long endless days without human contact or a glimmer of bright light.

Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows. But what did that make him?

He felt like a prisoner in his own skin but was being treated lavishly unlike her. Come on, his white silky bedroom had its own master bathroom attached to it! With a sunken bath and separate shower— the works basically. And what did Orihime have? Her room looked far from clean and Ichigo couldn't spot a bathroom anywhere near the vicinity, let alone one attached to it.

Clearly there was some favoritism going on here, but maybe Orihime hadn't pledged allegiance to Las Noches yet. Ichigo had sworn his loyalties to Aizen. So if Orihime had not, it would separate their situations entirely and explain the drastic differences in their living conditions.

Of course, that was Ichigo's assumption. He should have noticed how the two were brought to Las Noches under different circumstances, for different reasons but he didn't notice.

Taking a seat on the rickety stool, wood creaking underneath his weight making him slightly wince, anticipating its collapse but hoping it wouldn't, Ichigo sat in front of Orihime who was perched on her bed with two loose fists atop her knees.

After much inspection, deciding the stool would not cave in, Ichigo gave a small smile to Orihime's forlorn expression. It was an empty smile but he wanted to give the girl some ease. He had never seen her so dazed before, never seen a far-off look in her eyes before. It did not suit her pretty features and stole her usual youthful presence.

The corners of her lips twitched, possibly confused on how to react. Her grey eyes closed for a quick second and then, snapping out of her stupor, she forced a soft smile on her lips.

It seemed like they had already crumbled her happy gleaming spirit into grinded sand-sized shards, almost invisible, almost gone, but not quite.

That was his Orihime— always keeping some form of hope. No matter how small it may be. Ichigo was here now and he could sense her becoming more relaxed and optimistic for a better outcome to this horrible situation.

"So how d'ya go to the bathroom around here?" Ichigo asked in a usual gruff tone but meant to sound funny.

Orihime squeaked and clasped a hand to her chest. He eyed the questionable blush invading her cheeks. Was the question too personal? Would she pull out a hidden waste bucket from under the bed? Because if she did he was going to go ballistic—!

"Ulquiorra-san checks on me often. He takes me whenever I need to go…" Her soft grey eyes drifted to the side to fall upon nothing in particular, just away from Ichigo.

"He feed you too?"

She quickly nodded a few times. "Yes!" she chirped, "he does everything for me."

Well, that shouldn't surprise Ichigo. Ulquiorra was in charge of Orihime. Just seemed weird trying to picture the stoic espada coddling Orihime… well not coddling, but tending to her. Dare he think it, maybe even taking care of her?

"Is he nice?" Ichigo scratched the side of his head; unsure if nice was the right term.

"I wouldn't say nice…" Yeah, that's what he thought. Her voice trailed off but her eyes met with his again. "But he doesn't treat me bad if that's what you mean, Ichigo."

"Yeah, that's what I mean." Ichigo distantly chewed on the inside of his cheek. It seemed like Orihime was okay, as okay as anyone could be after being ruthlessly kidnapped, and he wasn't certain where to take the conversation. The male never had a way with words, never was one to engage in mindless chatter, and actually preferred silence over anything else, so sitting here with her expecting eyes on him— waiting for more speech— was uncomfortable.

"I guess nobody here can be considered nice, huh?" He opted with more questions, although he knew the answer to this one.

"Mhm." Orihime pushed a few strands of orange hair behind her ear. "It's not like I haven't given them a chance. I have! But- it's hard giving your enemy a chance. They have not been the most accommodating people, but I have tried to get on their good side without turning my back on you, Ichigo."

Ichigo shrugged in response, waving off her good intentions. "They don't even deserve a chance. Don't go blaming yourself for things that can't be helped." Her niceness was refreshing, considering a lot of the assholes surrounding Ichigo, but she lacked the ability to serve it at the right times to the right people. "Making friends now will only result badly in the future when they're enemies again. So don't sweat it, Orihime."

Silence returned. They shared small forced smiles and then Ichigo broke the gaze to meander over a large crack behind her, looking like it would fall to pieces if he touched it. What would lie on the other side? Possibly a room since the wall was not positioned toward the outside.

"Ichigo," the girl lightly spoke, shifting herself to lie on the bed, long orange locks pillowing beneath her head and grey eyes mapping out the ceiling.

"Hm?"

"What… what is Grimmjow to you?"

Eyes widening, hearing heightening, he nearly toppled off the stool but caught himself with a hand flat on the floor. His amber hues narrowed and all the color from his face drained. His throat tightened and hands felt clammy. Hearing his name jolted him sick. Ichigo, caught completely off guard, wondered where the question had even come from. Only a select few knew about Ichigo's situation with Grimmjow, Orihime not included.

So how did she know?

Did she know?

His mind hastily searched for answers, although really he wouldn't find one. Orihime had the answer.

Straightening up and regaining composure, Ichigo cleared his throat. "What do you mean by that, Orihime?"

Orihime, thankfully oblivious to Ichigo's little show, gently splayed an arm above her head. He watched her lips purse before she continued. "He said you are Grimmjow's and not to forget it-"

Grimmjow's.

Ya gotta thing for her, shinigami?

Ya don't wanna fuck her, right?

Yer not fuckin' anyone, but me.

Mine.

"Bastard," the word barely gritted out through his teeth. Amber irises rolled, lips flat-lining, and Ichigo lifted a hand to lightly smack and cup his forehead. "You can stop there. Ignore him, he is an ignorant asshole. Delusional, too. He doesn't think before he speaks and spews out crap. I have no idea what he's talking about, but I'm not his or anybody's. I belong to myself."

Grimmjow was jealous. Stupid asshole. He liked to play it off as "angry" that his property was being messed with but really Ichigo knew it was nothing but jealousy. Only jealousy could drive someone to confront another person, an innocent person who had no intentions on acting on her unrequited feelings.

There were no smoke and mirrors here. Ichigo had always been aware of Orihime's affections toward him. She made it obvious with the instant blushes heating her face and flashy, quick gestures of shyness whenever she talked to him alone. But never once had she taken the wheel to drive them a step further past friendship into something more awkward and Ichigo definitely wasn't going to either. Grimmjow was just too stupid to realize Orihime meant no harm and wasn't even a threat if she did try to cause any harm.

Not that Ichigo cared. He wasn't with Grimmjow nor was he Grimmjow's, so if someone wanted to make a move on him then it wasn't the espada's business. Taking a stand from his seat, Ichigo dusted off his behind and then threw his arms over his chest in a crossed fashion.

"I'm not gonna lie, Orihime, there is something between Grimmjow and me, but I'm handling it."

He was sure she'd question what that something was, but the words never left her mouth.

No words left. Ichigo swallowed lightly wondering if this reaction was in his favor or completely against him.

In the span of a few seconds, Orihime met his eyes and then simply nodded. Her gaze dropped giving off a defeated look that Ichigo hoped wasn't there. But it was. Not a good sign. And now seemed like the best time to leave.

"I've gotta go…" He stood by the door, hand gently holding the withered frame. "I'll be back later."

"Promise?" She quickly asked, bed creaking underneath her when she rose to sit up.

He glanced over his shoulder, putting on his best smile. "Of course."

x x x

A chill crept along the length of his spine, goose bumps prickling over his back as he tried to slip away from the hand reaching out to smooth over his skin. He could feel the palm so close that a light heat radiated from the source. Ichigo stepped forward once and dodged the gesture.

The white-haired shinigami chuckled in the background earning him a pointed glare from Ichigo. "Looks like Strawberry don't like a nice pettin'." He cringed inwardly. Man, he was in a room full of freaks.

"I was merely going to pat your back, Kurosaki. A gesture of gratitude, you do not have to fear my touch," Aizen spoke and from Ichigo's peripherals he could see a cunning smile glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. He could swear the man was practically purring out the statement, lacing his words with something more than gentle kindness.

Taking another step away for good measure, Ichigo gave Aizen a long pensive look, bordering a glare, while his hands shoved into the side openings of his white hakama. Better to keep them there rather than out in the open, urging to punch something or someone. "I'm good, Aizen-sama. A 'thanks' will suffice." He chuckled slowly sounding apprehensive. Who knew what would tip this guy over the edge, Ichigo certainly had no clue and Gin's laughing was not helping.

With a playful (hopefully playful) roll of his brown eyes, Aizen took a sip from his tea and motioned back to the projection in the middle of the table.

Ichigo was in an informal meeting with three other ex-soul reapers. Informal because it was impromptu, a servant retrieving Ichigo from Grimmjow's room to the usual meeting area and on arrival there was only one cup of tea prepared. There was always tea for the lord.

Aizen sat at the head of the table with Ichigo standing near his side and Gin looming behind him. Tousen was off guarding the door but listening intently to his lord.

For the past thirty minutes, they had gone over plans specifically assigned to Ichigo. He would start playing the spy soon. Aizen wanted Ichigo to request an official seat within one of the divisions (Gin merrily suggesting his Kira-kun's squad more than once) and Ichigo had to bite his tongue at the request. The idea of becoming an official shinigami did not hold any appeal to him. Probably better than staying here all summer, he thought, but really somehow this feels worse.

He knew he wouldn't betray his friends under any costs, but he felt guilty of treason already. Fucking an espada, enjoying it, wearing some stupid slave bracelet, agreeing to live with the enemy, speaking to the enemy nicely, doing all of this behind the Seireitei's back… Yeah, he was in deeper than he could possibly imagine. There was always the excuse of trying to find Aizen's weakness and destroying him from the inside out, but would that really excuse Ichigo's silence on the situation. He had even dragged Rukia into secrecy!

Who knew what would happen when he had to face them, knowing he was there under Aizen's command, pretending to spy and leak information back to the enemy, but in reality attempting to win his trust and find his ultimate weakness. It sounded outrageous and entirely based on faith but Ichigo trusted Urahara and his extravagant plans. This plan would work. In its own strange way, he knew it would work.

"So, does the division matter?" He questioned, the projections flickering through different scenes located in the Seireitei. Ichigo pondered the thought of how Aizen was able to get such footage but he left the question unspoken.

"I have no particular preference for the division they assign you. As long as you have a reason to be in the Seireitei, any division will be fine."

"Ah~ Ichi, ya must join Kira! He's gotta be real lonely without me there, he'd love a'lil spunk in his life." Grimacing, Ichigo hoped that referred to his hearty spirit and not the obvious innuendo. But knowing Gin, it was sexual.

Gin made all of the cringes Ichigo felt seem so easy. He had never felt his skin crawl so much in one setting.

And speaking of Kira, he was in the third division, right? That sounded like wishful thinking to Ichigo. With his luck, and he had a lot of that, Ichigo would be stuck in Kenpachi's division ready to pull his hair out while its notorious chaos stormed around him, or, dare he jinx himself, Kurotsuchi's division. Did he need to explain the latter? No, he didn't. His fears were justified.

"Yes, Gin, we understand how excellent it would be if Ichigo was assigned to Kira's division, but the decision is not in our hands. Now I believe I have no further information to go over. If there are no other questions, everyone is dismissed."

"Oh, one more thing, Aizen-sama. When does this start?" Ichigo wished to leave but this was important information which had not been discussed.

"Three days from now. You will put in your request tomorrow and return back to Las Noches for two days. This will give the Seireitei time to decide and make it seem like you are discussing it with your family, saying goodbyes, what have you."

"Should I inform my family?"

"That is unnecessary. They may know you are a traitor, but that does not mean they will keep my plans secret from the Seireitei. Allow them to believe you are living here."

Ichigo nodded. "Understood." Everything was happening so fast. He hadn't even been in Las Noches for more than two days and he was already getting ready to leave. Well, if the Seireitei accepted him. Although, there was no worry about that since the Seireitei had no real reason to not accept Ichigo.

After formal goodbyes, the orange-haired male left the meeting room and headed straight for Orihime. She would be the first to hear this just in case he wasn't able to speak to her again before his leave.

x x x

Growling lips brushed the nape of his neck. He pushed the other away, one hand flat on his forehead and the other gripping his shoulder to try and escape his possessive hold. Grimmjow growled louder at the action, the growl full of pure anger, if it were a color it'd be red.

"Who the fuck does Aizen think he is sendin' you away already!"

"Like that's my fuckin' choice, get the hell off me," he grunted and forcefully threw Grimmjow back with all of his strength, sending the espada straight to the wall, colliding against the cement hard. The espada wiped the corner of his lips to clean off the drool, the gesture reminding Ichigo to wipe his own neck which was still considerably wet. And then surprisingly a menacing laugh rumbled into Grimmjow's bedroom. Ichigo's eyes widened a fraction, studying the other closely from across the room.

"Yer not usually like this, Kurosaki. Usually you'd be melting in my hands begging to be fucked like the whore you are."

Whore?

Whore?

"Mine."

Fuck!

Ichigo rose to his feet, moving from the bed to walk toward his offender with calculated strides. His eyes narrowed into mad slits, cranking an arm back and then slamming forward to connect his fist with the uncovered part of Grimmjow's jaw. It took no thought. He was seeing red, glare holding a lot of bite and body prepared to wail on the espada.

He wasn't a whore. He wasn't anyone's whore. This fate was not his doing and no one would put the blame on him. Ichigo would never allow that. His dignity would not stand to hear such utter crap. Who cared if they shared a rare embrace once every random fuck. It felt good— something to do in the afterglow following a good orgasm, but it meant nothing. It did not mean Ichigo was asking for it. Neither did the good orgasm. Ichigo knew biology, simple anatomy allowed himself to have a good orgasm. It didn't matter if it was Grimmjow or not.

Him being a whore was out of the question.

So he would stand his ground. Yes, he allowed himself to get fucked, but he would not allow the arrogant espada to blatantly disgrace his name and spread utter lies.

The only whore in this room was Grimmjow.

The back of Grimmjow's head bounced on the surface of the wall, impact so hard it teetered his body a little, and then in that half-a-second of regaining composure, he jumped forward like a burly feline, landing a swift punch on Ichigo's stomach, pulling the air from his lungs as a strong grip simultaneously forced its way around his neck, closing his trachea.

Immediately he brought a hand up to crawl at Grimmjow's hand, trying to free his neck which was losing to the tightening grip by the second, lungs ballooning inside of his chest in a panic for air. He felt his feet dangling like a ragdoll below, having been lifted from the ground, so he started to blow a tirade of kicks at the espada knocking hard ones into his sides and thighs.

Of course, the kicks meant nothing to Grimmjow's shield-like body. Ichigo felt his face contort, going red from lack of oxygen, eyes trying to stay open, not willing to succumb to unconsciousness and his hazy vision landed on Grimmjow's grinning face. The look in those wide cyan hues was manic, bloodthirsty, delighted-

His body was beginning to feel like jelly, legs weighing down the rest of him, turning his kicks into slow swaying making absolutely no contact with Grimmjow.

The espada started laughing loudly in his ears. The sound worse than a blade to the gut. Ichigo knew Grimmjow loved the look of impending death in his amber eyes. Watching him struggle, grasp for life but sliding closer to eternal sleep.

He knew Grimmjow craved to be his keeper and his killer. And the realization was disgusting.

Before Ichigo slipped into unconscious blackness, Grimmjow freed him entirely, body immediately dropping on the cold floor with a harsh impact.

An involuntary whimper slithered out of his throat as he gulped in mouthfuls of air, chest heaving wildly. Hunched over, shaking hands flat on the floor, but his head rose to keep his eyes glaring at Grimmjow. Ichigo was not going to fucking bow down and let the espada have his way. Not this time.

At this very moment, he may look and even sound like a bitch (with the stupid whimpers his body made to warn himself of danger), but his fiery amber hues would speak volumes against that notion.

He steeled himself, shoulders tensing. "D-don't you ever," he spoke between heaving pants, "fucking p-put your hands on me like that again." Despite his breathless voice, the words were venomous.

"Or what, huh?" Grimmjow mocked. Fucker laughed some more.

Ichigo was not going to acknowledge— no, more like entertain him with an answer. Instead he kept his eyes locked with wild blue ones, raising his arm, forcing his quivering body to sit straighter and soon his other arm lifted too. Ichigo nearly laughed when Grimmjow's eyes widened. The espada saw what was to come next.

Pressing a tan finger to the red gem on his bracelet, translucent orb encompassing the room, Ichigo spoke clearly despite the scratchy feeling in his throat. "Aizen-sama, I need assistance."

"Is that so?" The lord purred.

A snarl left Grimmjow as he stalked closer to Ichigo who shuffled back on his knees until his back dug into the side of the bed. The espada had the fucking nerve to force his hand off the red button, pressing it again to end the transmission, orb snapping into place.

"The fuck you think yer doin'?!"

"Getting help, you maniac!" He roared, shoving Grimmjow away by his hips as he stood on his wobbly legs to challenge the espada.

"I'm the one you get help from," Grimmjow growled, gripping his collar and drawing them in closer, tips of their noses touching to initiate contact.

Ichigo jerked back. "Let go!" His hands palmed the other's bare chest, pushing and struggling to get away. After a few seconds of continuous struggle, he curled his fingers inward and deeply scratched the skin, red marks trailing after his nails and prickles of blood decorating the path.

Wait- did he just feel Grimmjow shiver? The espada seemed to curl forward, forehead landing on his own, a loud growl vibrating inches over his lips. He incredulously stared up at Grimmjow, the hell kind of reaction was that…!

Suddenly a hand gripped one of his hands, forcing his nails further down, edging closer to his nipple. It was already hard? The brown nub looked perky despite there being absolutely no direct stimulation.

"Fuckin' scratch me, Kurosaki. Make it hurt."

"What the hell," he murmured breathlessly. When had his voice lost its bite? When did this become sexual rather than dangerous? Fuck, Grimmjow was messing with his damn sanity.

Leave it to Grimmjow. Only Grimmjow could choke the living shit out of him in one moment and in the next miraculously twist it into some strangely erotic scratching session.

And what about Aizen— he was probably watching; Ichigo had a hunch since no one had come to save him yet.

Fuck it.

Hurriedly capturing those growling lips with his own, Ichigo penetrated the open mouth, his red tongue forcefully sliding over Grimmjow's tongue as his nails curled into hard pectorals, leaving even more bright red lines. One hand ventured south more to pinch a hard nipple, tugging it roughly. That earned him a loud groan and an eager espada pressing their lower bodies closer together, his arms wrapping around Ichigo's neck and clutching onto orange locks.

Their kiss became deeper, the two only breaking slightly apart whenever air was needed and Ichigo got an idea, somehow through his incoherent mind. His other hand snaked behind and down, wanting to test the waters, whilst the other continued to roll over a perky nipple. Something was different. Something about this was strange, but he was not entirely certain what it was yet. He needed to test it.

Planting his open palm on a firm mound, Ichigo groped Grimmjow's ass through his hakama. White cloth bunched between his fingers as he rhythmically squeezed the tender globe like a pulse underneath his hand. This elicited the other's hips to harshly buck forward, Grimmjow gyrating to rub his stiff length on Ichigo's thigh.

Hold on.

Is he letting me dominate?

Such a short chapter, dang, but I felt like it was better to get this out there instead of continuing this long wait. After finishing it there, I'm very eager to write the next chapter so the wait shouldn't be terribly long. Hopefully my writer's block does not persist. It is a vicious beast.

Thank you so much for reading and sticking around. If got you any ideas, suggestions for future chapters ('cause trust me I make most on spot), or you simply wanna see more, lemme know with a little review or something something. Yanno, the drill.

Until next time! Hopefully not as long as this wait had been, heh heh.