Hello… Have I returned? I am not sure, but a few email notifications with the title "fanfiction" sparked my curousity to read my fics. I have no idea why after three years of posting all of my stories, I still get likes and faves. I am not saying I get a lot, but even the few I see every month kept me wondering. So, here I am. I had no idea my writing could carry throughout those years, but I did not find reading my fics terrible. Also, I have not lost the love for these characters, although I am not into the series as much. However, that does not stifle my want to do more with them. I just have had a busier life since then.

Although, I have had experiences that I think could make my stories better. In fact, one personal fact about me is three years ago… I was a virgin. Believe it or not. I think my smut now would probably flow a lot better now after said experience. I was around the age of 19 when I wrote these fics. I will be 23 soon.

So, here's a chapter of one of my favorite stories. I am also thinking of pursing law myself and that also creates a bias. If you want another chapter, show me something. A like (are there even likes? maybe I mean adds to your authors list...), a review, a fave, a follow... I don't care. Just anything and maybe I won't vanish for another three years… Haha, just kidding. I will vanish if I vanish, but at least you can say I tried once more. Although, I do admit a lot of the reason why I stopped writing was the silent majority. It is hard to conquer writer's block while trying to please an audience that just watches, but does not interact. As I am older, the attention does not matter much as it did then, but it does sort of put oil on the wheels if you will.

Also, keep in mind I only re-read this chapter. I wrote this years ago as well. I am currently working on the "party" chapter, if you are curious.

Anyway, without further ado (after a long ass interlude about boring author-sama's life), here is But You're My Boss: Stop Signs Ahead

There he was as handsome as ever in that cliché Armani suit, so cliché for a man who embodied pride itself and walked around with more money than anyone rationally should on their person. Although the suit drastically contrasted his career, he was a professor by day, teaching forensics to an honors-achieving class (preaching to the choir really), and a scientist by night, participating in the line of duty of which he taught.

He looked so harmless in class almost as if he couldn't hurt a fly, let alone dissect it for critical evidence in a case, with that soft smile of his, fluffy bangs draping his forehead and thick-framed glasses adorning his face. Ichigo had caught him a few times after class, even caught him a few times at home before he could shed the disguise off. It was so endearing and different, but a disguise it truly was.

Right here and now, this Armani suit, that gel-slickened hair and frames-less face were more fitting for this pompous asshole.

Ichigo sometimes wondered why he didn't just go to class in his usual, immaculate attire but he soon discovered that a certain "look" was needed in Aizen's line of work. He needed to be able to win over and persuade his employer, be it the chief of police or the lead prosecutor, and he had to do this without intimidating them. If they had witnessed the true Aizen, they would interpret his precious smile and fanciful words as condescending and quickly recruit a new forensics investigator for the case.

Aizen was not a man one could simply replace, he never took rejection civilly, so to prosper in his career he had went to great lengths in creating his disguise. Hell, he created an entirely different persona for his job. The man didn't even need glasses for crying out loud!

Adjusting his watch, Ichigo eyed the tiny tick marks. 8:13. Oh man, Aizen was going to be so pissed and Ichigo had to force away the sinfully delightful shiver that dared to run down his spine. He loved getting under Aizen's skin especially after their tumultuous breakup. Ichigo didn't even want to touch on those details, banishing them to the dark recesses of his mind and saving them for another time, he'd deal with their emergence later.

Casually, determined to eat more time without catching Aizen's attention, Ichigo assessed his surroundings from the near-empty bar, counter spotless, to the soft murmur of men hunched over dimly-lit dining booths, nursing their drinks, or maybe their headaches by the looks of some grimaces.

Ikkaku's was the worst on Mondays.

The worst kinds of people racked into the place like tumbleweeds down a dusty road, the downtrodden businessmen who wished to avoid their wives for a few more hours.

So why had Aizen picked this place to meet Ichigo? Simple, this was where Keigo worked. And also this was where Ichigo had met Aizen so long ago.

The man had only stopped inside for leads on a case. A woman had been murdered in the alley next door and hair samples were needed from each employee, the person of interest suspected to work at Ikkaku's, and Ichigo, being Ichigo, was completely intrigued. He was an aspiring lawyer and crime cases were like his chocolate— his addiction, so who could blame him?

This would then become the place they had continued to meet at throughout their relationship. This was also the place Ichigo had introduced Aizen to Keigo, absolutely oblivious to what was to come in the future. If he had known, would he have changed it? Would he have changed their regular mingling-spot to prevent them from meeting? No. No way. Keigo was his one-way ticket out of that relationship after all.

A few slow, reluctant steps toward the bar, Ichigo sat next to his ex-lover. Aizen had been idly twirling the olive in his martini while his chin casually rested on one open palm looking like he owned the place. When Ichigo entered into his realm, he didn't even straighten up; he just slowly eased his brown eyes on him and blinked once, a silent question crossing over his features.

Ichigo knew he wanted an explanation for being late, barely breaking ten minutes, but instead of words, he gave the man a smug smirk as his knuckles confidently rapped on the counter.

"Ichigo…" Aizen broke their wordless fight, voice carrying a warning, but an empty warning. Ichigo was not on a leash anymore, he did not follow orders like some obedient lapdog. He was not Keigo.

"Hey," he smoothly replied before leaning over the counter to shout for Ikkaku.

"Maa, maa! I heard ya, jeez!" The bald man shouted, muffled by the distance between the bar counter to the employee kitchen.

"Do not hey me," Aizen said with fake mirth. His words may have come out light but Ichigo knew his insides were seething in a dark purple rage, ominous and misty. He probably wanted to reprimand Ichigo, like hell he would. Ichigo would whoop his ass if he even tried.

"Oi!" Ikkaku barked, casually cleaning a glass with a rag when he stepped out of the swinging door. His eyes were closed— an obvious tick throbbed on his shiny forehead before he opened his eyes and finally noticed Ichigo. Ichigo gave him a wolfish grin. "Ichigo, holy shit!" He barked more happily this time.

"Aye, Ikkaku." They shared a fist-bump. This reunion felt ten times better than Aizen's and it was barely the start of the night.

"Damn, long time no see, buddy. Hope ya been good, miss yer strawberry ass 'round these parts. Yer too good fer us now? I swear, the only thing good 'bout losin' you meant this guy be'd pakin' his bags, but naw, can't even get 'im to budge." His thumb jabbed to the side to indicate Aizen.

Ichigo chuckled as he watched Aizen stare and then suddenly, but subtly, a sly smile enveloped his lips. Ichigo's chuckling faltered to silence, worried about the intention for such an expression, then waited for Aizen's next move. "If you had lost me, you would have lost this place. Let's be honest with ourselves, Ikkaku. Who was it that paid last month's mortgage?"

Ouch. Now that had shut Ikkaku up faster than anything Ichigo had ever witnessed in his entire time knowing the tough-as-nails man. Ikkaku cringed and his head lowered sullenly. Ichigo imagined he was biting back a flood of expletives that wished to surface as he returned to cleaning the already-clean glass.

"Yea, yea, anyway, good to see ya, Ichi. You get my point."

"Of course, I do. It's been way too long, man. I feel you. Sorry for sorta ditchin' you guys. I've been workin' at that new place I told you about and it's got me all kinds of busy."

"Understood, man. Ya gotta come by more often, tell me all 'bout it. Now, what can I get ya? On the house, of course." Ikkaku raised his head again to shoot a grin Ichigo's way.

Ichigo returned it and shrugged. "Surprise me."

"However, not on the house, Ikkaku," Aizen butted into the conversation, "I will be paying for his drinks and whatever else he decides to order."

Ichigo mentally groaned and physically scowled. Aizen, this is not a fucking date, you two-timing fool. Where the hell is Keigo? He was about ready to cut in, shoot down Aizen's offer into the ground and bury it twenty feet deep, but Ikkaku simply shrugged, winking at Ichigo, and then walked along the counter to whip up his surprise drink.

He heaved a sigh. He couldn't blame Ikkaku, he probably did need the money and he would rather take Aizen's than Ichigo's.

"You paid the mortgage, huh?" His voice softened to conceal his question from others. The place wasn't hopping, but there was a chance Ikkaku or Keigo might hear and he wasn't willing to take any chances.

If Aizen had paid for the bar's mortgage… Well, that knowledge had lain wrong with Ichigo. He didn't like the sound of Ikkaku being in Aizen's debt because this business was Ikkaku's baby, his pride and joy, and Aizen disliked anything precious.

"Yes, I did. Mind you, it was not my first decision or my idea. Keigo had begged and begged so I simply answered his prays." What a relief, at least it was Keigo who was in Aizen's debt.

"Keigo here?" Ichigo scanned the place again to see if he could spot the little brunette.

"He is here, but in the back. He has kitchen duty tonight." Oh, that was right. The chef didn't come on Mondays. For good reason too, the place was practically dead.

"Ahh…" Ichigo nodded and then finally met Aizen's stare. A brown eyebrow flicked upward, which caused Ichigo to lift his own eyebrows. The man smiled, Ichigo noticed how his body began to lean forward to enter into the space between them. Reflexively, Ichigo swayed back to keep his distance.

He had to stop though less he wanted to fall straight on his ass onto some grimy bar floor. He was not taking a jab at Ikkaku's place, honestly it was usually clean, pristine even, but it was a Monday.

Sadly, stopping gave Aizen an all-access pass into his protective bubble, inevitably popping it and nearing Ichigo's ear. "You look gorgeous…" Aizen's velvet voice trailed off, his soft breath tickling Ichigo's sensitive ear, as a finger suddenly slid down the length of his shirt.

Amber eyes widened for a split-second, half of him stunned and the other half not, until he broke out of the spell Aizen had casted and grabbed Aizen's wrist. He shoved it back against the man, thankfully knocking him out of his bubble. "Yeah, well you can look, but you can't touch. Thanks."

The asshole merely smirked and returned to his chin-on-palm posture. Man, Ichigo wailed inside, wished to punch that smug look off his face. Why had he come to meet this guy again? The asshole had some nerve to try and put the moves on him with his sweet little lover a few feet behind the wall.

"I see… I miss you, Ichigo. Do you not miss me?" Aizen tried to sound offended. Ichigo read through it as quickly as a laser could slice through steel.

"Not really." He brushed off whatever frazzled nerves he had and replaced them with a careless, aloof tone. He would muster up as much swagger as he could, the same swagger he had when he first walked into the place.

A few seconds passed before Aizen replied whose brown hues appeared to darken. Ichigo dived into that silence, bathed in it, danced around like an idiot on the inside because he had put a thorn in Aizen's side, rightfully so.

"Is it because I have been replaced?"

Wait… what…

Ichigo blinked— one, two, three times. "Replaced?" He asked in utter confusion, voice gruff with shock. He couldn't believe how twisted everything was in Aizen's world. Who was he to think Ichigo needed to replace him? That was laughable. Ichigo was so over him but the man would continue to believe Ichigo's world revolved around him even when he was not there.

And back up! Wasn't Ichigo the one replaced? Shouldn't he have been the one asking that question? He would never ask it, but he felt like it would be more justified rather than coming from Aizen and his ridiculous mouth.

"Yes, replaced. Shinji tells me you have a date on Friday."

"I do have a date on Friday, but it's not to replace you, trust. You're nowhere near my decision-making, Aizen, let alone in any of my thoughts. But, whatever, I know this is going in one ear and out the other. You'll hear what you want, pick out the words you like and twist them so you can tell everyone how I'm not over you and how desperate I am. Right? Right." Ichigo sneered and sharply turned his head away from Aizen.

This was so fucking ridiculous, where the hell was his drink?

"How defensive, Ichigo. All I needed was a yes or no, but you provided me with an essay response. Interesting…" Wow! Ichigo was so fucking right. Aizen contorted things, obscured them mercilessly until they were a truth that fit in his artillery, waiting and ready to be used whenever Aizen pleased.

He curled his fist as his head shook a few times as if it would dismiss whatever Aizen said, his face filled with red, an angry red, and he could have sworn he saw red too.

Finally the door swung open, Ikkaku must have made one meticulous drink if he had to go in the back for the ingredients. Unfortunately, his server was not Ikkaku. It was Keigo. Great, Ichigo loved a little salt to go with his fresh wounds.

Not that Ichigo wasn't over Aizen. He was, but Keigo would find a way to aggravate his already-aggravated nerves.

"Sorry about the hold up, Ichigo. Ikkaku had to take a call in the back, but here is your drink." The brunette merrily greeted and placed the drink in front of him— so unaware of how tense the situation was.

A tequila sunrise, how fruity… In other words, Ikkaku remembered exactly how Ichigo liked his drinks— the less noticeable the alcohol the better.

Rather than reply to Keigo, he gave a grunt and dived into his drink. From the corner of his eye, he could see Aizen motioning for Keigo with a come-hither curl of his finger. The small brunette immediately leaned over the counter and proceeded to greet him. Ichigo turned away from the scene but unfortunately couldn't block out the wet, sloppy sounds without coming off as entirely rude toward his friend.

"Mm… working… babe." He heard Keigo breathlessly mutter between kisses. Ichigo rolled his eyes and gulped down his drink faster, busying his focus with the sad pool game going on in the corner— one guy drunkenly swaying looking like he was in an intense tournament with his glass that was perched on the rim of the pool table.

"I know you are working, but who is your boss, darling?" Darling. Did he say that to all his conquests? Jeez… But, Ichigo scowled in outright contempt. Aizen wasn't the boss, Ikkaku was, this was his place and if the guy wanted his employees to work, Aizen should have no say in the matter.

However, Ichigo had an eerie hunch that Aizen was now calling all of the shots since he held the coin purse.

"Ichigo, we have something to ask of you." That was Aizen. So they finished their little make-out session, hallelujah.

Swiveling around on the barstool, sliding his glass across the countertop with the fluid movement, his eyes fell upon Keigo to strategically avoid whatever leer Aizen dished him.

"Yea, what's up? I figured this meeting had some kinda purpose."

"It does, Ichigooo~" Keigo happily drawled as his eyelashes fluttered wildly, lips pursed into a kissy face.

Without much reaction, face void of emotion, Ichigo stared, becoming slightly impatient, if they had something to ask they should just ask.

"We want to invite you into our bedroom."

"A threesome, Ichigo!" Keigo chimed in and threw an arm around Aizen's shoulder, looking like he was squeezing it tightly despite the distance of the counter.

"What do you say?"

Nothing registered. He had no words. His eyes dug a wider hole into the small space separating their bodies. Did he look like a fish out of water? He felt like one, and for the second time in the span of less than a week. That understanding was nerve-wracking in itself, but then a smile started to form on his lips.

A laugh accompanied that smile. This was what he had waited for all night, all day actually, not that particular offer in question but he had anticipated something outrageous, ridiculously funny that his own mind could never conjure up on its own.

This had taken the cake. Maybe even the entire bakery.

They wanted to have sex with him? Aizen. Keigo. They.

His boss wanted to fuck him. The guy from the café wanted to fuck him. Aizen clearly wanted to fuck him and now Keigo was in on the mix. Good lord, had Ichigo's life secretly transformed into a male harem without his awareness? He wondered what his chances were of making all these guys his eternal slaves— he could probably rule the world with these minds.

"Pfffft," Ichigo blew loudly and struck the counter with his palm. He laughed and laughed and then quickly quieted, dropping back into a dead silence, throwing off Aizen and Keigo completely.

Clearing his throat, ignoring Keigo's dropped jaw and Aizen's cold eyes swirling with a hint of fury, Ichigo sent them a wink.

"I'm going to pretend I got wasted, so wasted I never heard this and you're going to pretend you never asked. Yeah?" Ichigo smirked, a tilt of his head emphasizing his request.

Keigo sighed loudly, was it in relief? It looked like it from the way his shoulders had slumped down from their tense position. Ichigo hadn't noticed the tension before, but now Keigo looked as if he had just been saved, as if someone had pushed him away from a speeding train coming down the tracks after he made a crazy, rash decision to jump on them in the first place.

Aizen's lips curled upward into a faint frown as he acted unfazed, taking the time pull out his phone and investigate the screen thoroughly.

"Now get me another drink, Keigo, it's on him." He pointed to Aizen and flashed his friend a dashing grin who mouthed Ichigo a silent thank you, so Keigo didn't really want a threesome, before fetching off to Ikkaku with the drink order.

A few moments after Keigo left, Ichigo felt his thigh vibrating. He turned slightly, seeing Aizen continuing to fiddle with his phone, as he tugged out his own. Sliding over the locked screen, he gave the message an incredulous look, amber eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Asshole:

Forget the threesome, Ichigo

I am here to offer myself to you

Always

Received: Two seconds ago

"You've got some fuckin' nerve," he vehemently hissed at Aizen as he caught the man watching his every move from the moment he opened the message. Who's to say he won't tell Keigo? Did the guy ever think about that? He'd find out. "What if I tell him, huh?"

"But you will not."

"I will."

"No, you will not."

"Yes."

"No."

"… And why the hell not?!" Fed up of the bickering, reminding him of the past, he slammed his empty glass on the counter causing a man in the back to jump out of his seat.

"Because if you do tell, you ruin Keigo's life singlehandedly in one night. Who keeps his work afloat? Who provides him a roof over his head? Who keeps him from being lonely at night? I do. So if you tell him, you put him in a tough situation, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Fuck Ichigo and his damn hero-like pride… He couldn't do that to his friend. As much as he wanted to punch the living daylights out of this bastard, he had a point, a twisted point, but one nonetheless. Keigo revolved around Aizen and he seemed happy, for the most part, not including the threesome offer.

He needed to get one thing clear before he made a final decision. "Have you cheated on him?"

"Absolutely not, but I would jump through a blazing fire for one night with you." Aizen's voice got gradually low, his body once again gravitating toward Ichigo like some unwanted magnet. "I would kill a man for an eternity with you." That was more than a whisper.

And it gave Ichigo the chills, the downright creeps. He brushed it off as quickly as he could, closing his eyes for a moment to catch his bearings. "Alright… Well, as long as you don't cheat on him then my lips are sealed."

x x x

"Remember when you and Tes were a thing?"

"Yea, 'nd remember when ya fucked him…"

Their voices drawled lazily, their limbs overly outstretched for no apparent reason taking up most of the couch and living room floor. Grimmjow took another swig at his beer, savoring the light buzz and frosty feeling.

Man, were they lazy fucks. They could afford to be— Grimmjow could afford anything.

Spending a Wednesday night with his good ol' pal Nnoitra was normal and habitual, rather it would be abnormal to not have Nnoitra over on a Wednesday night. They'd been doing this for years even before Grimmjow became a big shot attorney, even before Nnoitra joined the Basketball Japan League. It felt like decades ago, decades of doing exactly this, but really it had been roughly seven years ago.

"Ya know how long it took me to remember his name? Still forget sometimes," he said as he gestured his beer toward his lanky friend.

"Yea, well, sometimes I forget it too… Prolly not the same reasons you do though, ya ol' coot," Nnoitra grumbled, smacking the base of Grimmjow's beer and tossing back his own, downing it in what looked like one gulp.

"What is it with you, Nnoi? Everyone you date drops like flies like yer some repellent or something. Even Szayel threw you out like yesterday's trash and that fairy is supposed to be clingy."

"They only want the d and once they got it, they take it fer granted."

"Wiser words have never been spoken," Grimmjow plainly commented after a long sip. Now that he thought about it, if they left after fucking for awhile didn't that mean the sex wasn't worth their stay… if not, shouldn't they be crawling back? Unfortunately, he knew Nnoi was packing in the well-endowed department thanks to their old high school locker room days, so that couldn't be the problem… But maybe he downright sucked in terms of skill or maybe he was merely selfish and took but not gave, Grimmjow would bet money on the latter.

Though, the only thing that would clear his curiosity would be to ask, so he figured out a way to do so without insulting the other. "Do any of 'em still comeback for more?"

"Tes has a few times. Szayel, nah, wouldn't let 'im if he tried anyway. Then there was Mila, she comes around when she isn't feelin' "lesbian" that day… And oi! Remember that blue-haired bombshell with the big rack?" He emphasized the word rack by cupping the air in front of his chest, which did not amuse Grimmjow one bit, on the contrary, his forehead throbbed in annoyance.

"You mean my sister…" Grimmjow narrowed his dangerous eyes at his idiot friend, throwing his arm back ready to launch his beer bottle at Nnoi's head.

While laughing like an obnoxious baboon, Nnoitra covered his face in defense and slid further away from Grimmjow on the couch. "Wait, wait! I was just kiddin', bro. But, yea, sometimes Nel comes around too. She'd kill me if she knew I was tellin' her baby bro this but she shouldn't have dated her baby bro's best friend in the first place."

"We'll see how long ya keep that best friend title," he snidely commented. Although Nel was older than Grimmjow he still felt the intense need to protect her, hide her away from the world and defend her honor. He blamed his mother for giving him such a beautiful older sister, in every aspect she looked like their mother, a curse in itself— alluring to all types of men, Nnoi included.

"Whatever happened to me and Nel," Nnoi aimlessly spoke, sounded as if he were making conversation with himself than Grimmjow.

"She was too good for you, realized it and found a better guy. That's what happened." His words held truth though they were sugar-coated in an offensive tone. Nel had been the one to leave Nnoitra— then again so had twenty other people— and found a new man. Not that Grimmjow approved of her new beau, he didn't, but the guy was better than this rabid dog he called his best friend.

Said beau was much younger than Nel by a lot. Maybe a decade younger, come to think of it her new man was Ichigo's age— possibly older, give or take a year. Ichigo was a ripe twenty-three and the guy dating Nel had to be around that age too. He'd have to look into it, his memory was shit, but his sister was only thirty-one and already treading into cougar territory.

"I saw who she's with now and I bet my left nut his dick ain't even half the size of mine."

Horrified, Grimmjow cringed and kicked Nnoitra's thigh eliciting a groan from him. "Ew, shut the hell up. Anyone would take that fuckin' bet, even that guy since he's like not even half your freakishly tall height."

"Exactly so the fuck she doin' with that brat? She needs a real man. I looked him up on facebook and the fucker has the gall to put 'em as married, what a fuckin' tool."

"Wait, he really has that?" Grimmjow blinked in disbelief, a little put off by the assertion since a stunt like that sounded clingier than Szayel, which wasn't a good quality to have or surpass.

"Hell yea, fuckin' look him up later. Ko-ji-ma. Mi-zu-ir-o." Nnoitra stabbed the air with a finger as he sounded out each syllable.

Twin blue eyebrows rose in confusion. "How the fuck ya know his name but I don't?"

"A, ya don't remember shit that ain't in yer fancy law manual. B, I got my connections." His friend wiggled two fingers, a devious smile parting his lips. "Wait… fuckin' idiot, don't ya have yer sis on yer friends? Ya could've seen it yerself."

"Like I fuckin' use it religiously like some people…" He rolled his eyes, completely referring to Nnoitra.

"It's how I pick up my screws, usin' that real smooth internet lingo. How I picked up my latest one too. Ya should try it more often," he loudly boasted like Grimmjow would eat up his advice as if it were ice cream with gold sprinkles on top.

"No, thanks," he snorted while his hand idly scratched his navel.

"Ya should see my new bitch. He's this little blonde thing, gotta mean mouth on him tho. I love the feisty ones, yanno. All I gotta do is pay him and he's good ta go—"

"You're fuckin' findin' prostitutes on facebook?" Grimmjow deadpanned, blue eyes as cold and lifeless as a shipwreck in the Arctic.

"Naw! He's an escort. They're fuckin' classy 'nd don't always fuck, but this one, man, he fell in love at the sight of my cock, couldn't resist."

"That's enough of your fuckin' cock for one day, Nnoi." He shook his head, lifting off the couch and picking up their beer bottles strewn across his wood floor. "But you'll have to show me him- you tend to get the lookers minus Szayel."

"That's enough of Szayel fer one day," Nnoitra mimicked Grimmjow's voice and rose as well to start fixing the couch's pillows. They always got thrown off when Nnoi was over, they took up too much space between the two men.

"Anyway, I'll show ya 'im if ya frequent the facebook more."

"Why?" He tossed a few bottles into the recycling bin, swish. An internal audience roared inside his mind while the inner-Grimmjow bathed in the excited acknowledgment.

Turning to face Nnoi, he watched the male head to his kitchen, driven to the fridge probably looking for something sweet. Grimmjow followed and saw that he was dead-on; his friend had pulled out a jar of cherries drenched in that sweet syrup. Lazily, Nnoi began to plop a few into his mouth.

"'Cause yer still hung up over yer damn ex 'nd as yer wingman I need to get ya laid."

"I've been gettin' laid plenty."

"Yea, but none to get ya outta that fuckin' funk of yers. Admit yer hung up so I can have permission to find ya a cutie with a booty to bang more than once."

Hung up over his ex, huh? Was that true? Grimmjow pondered over the accusation as he reached into the jar to grab his own cherry. He chewed the cherry obscenely by keeping his mouth open the entire time just to watch his friend wince and call him a cow, which he did.

His ex was a shaky subject in Grimmjow's book. So that meant he was still hung up, right? Still hung up to dry and wilt in the sun alone like forgotten clothes on a line.

But he had pushed those undeniably true thoughts to the back of his mind, burying them under endless work and mindless fucks. He had done a lot of fucking in the past month, so much that he had planned to bed all the cuties, as Nnoi had called them, at his firm.

Despite wanting, no, yearning to be over his ex, he wasn't going to get attached to a random fuck. Maybe Ichigo had potential to get him out of his "funk" and distract him a bit but Grimmjow wasn't anticipating anything serious nor did he want that. He simply wanted the male in his bed twenty-four seven at his beck and call for whenever he so pleased, whenever he wanted to get his dick wet so to speak.

"I always told ya to stay away from the pretty ones, look what fuckin' happened to me 'nd yer sister." Nnoi offhandedly commented, sighing loudly as he sprayed whip cream into his mouth. When had he retrieved that? Che, Grimmjow got carried away too much on pointless crap.

"Explain what ya mean by pretty, weren't your other exes pretty?"

"Naw, the pretty ones are the… Yanno, the "beautiful" ones," his fingers rose in finger quotes around the adjective, "the ones that fuckin' takeover an entire room just by steppin' one toe in there. Got me?"

"Ehhh, got ya," he agreed, slowly nodding in compliance. That definitely explained Byakuya to a tee. The man was more than beautiful if there was such a thing possible and he did attract everyone in any room he stood in, no matter the occasion— shit, it could be someone's wedding and all eyes would be on Byakuya. Grimmjow could admit in the beginning he was so addicted to the male, completely and utterly enthralled, and a part of him now knew that his addiction had never left, the flames had just faintly died down compared to their intense start.

Really, those looks alone put Grimmjow into a trance and everything else about Byakuya had just fallen into place.

Byakuya had worked for Grimmjow but soon after their breakup he had transferred to another firm… With Grimmjow's referral, of course. So he was more than whipped by Byakuya, whatever, the guy was hot as sin and… Something about him was so worth it, but Grimmjow could never put his finger on it considering Byakuya was a stoic man who did not care to dabble into petty emotions.

Usually Grimmjow wouldn't either, that's what had drawn them together at first. Byakuya, quiet and lustful, and Grimmjow, loud and lustful, both wanting a relationship solely based on sex, only exclusive to each other, making sure to always be free for one another, whenever they desperately needed it, but then along the way, after months of just fucking Byakuya, of just being around Byakuya, simply breathing in the same air as him, Grimmjow had managed to get himself wrapped around Byakuya's finger and his stupid heart had blindly stumbled in tow as well.

His dick was in love too. It throbbed even now for the man and Grimmjow had to shift his legs, awkwardly leaning against the island in his kitchen to not attract any attention to the embarrassing fact. Luckily, Nnoi was busy talking his head off about how beauty always came with a catch, how beauty only lasted for so long until it moved along.

"You have become a burden, Grimmjow."

Byakuya's voice echoed inside his head.

He groaned and shoved more cherries into his mouth. The fucker lost something good, he lost someone who could fucking tie a cherry's stem with only his tongue, who the fuck would dump someone who could do that?

"Ya hearin' me, big guy?" Nnoi irritatingly shouted at Grimmjow who rubbed his temples in annoyance.

"Yea, loud and clear. But I really don't want any commitments, I feel like if I fuck them more than once then they are gonna want somethin' I don't."

"'Cause they ain't Byakuya."

"'Cause they ai—" Lips pulled into a deep frown and a deadly gaze landed on Nnoi as he threw a cherry at his hair. Nnoi yelled complaining his hair was too valuable or something dumb like that before he scurried out of the kitchen in a fuss. At least this conversation was officially over, Grimmjow could breathe easy and keep whatever he wanted to retort to himself. Nnoi had been so close to getting something out of Grimmjow that he wished to hide.

His friend would only blow up in a messy, fist-for-fist tirade if Grimmjow had said it out loud.

"Just think 'bout the facebook thing, Grimmjow. Or don't, just lemme know when ya want me to find ya someone, aight?" His friend continued to harp on the subject as he was led to the front entrance. It was about time for him to leave.

"Drop it, Nnoi. I already got my eyes on a new fuck, don't need you interruptin' my game."

Nnoitra snorted loudly, flipping Grimmjow the bird before he pranced out the door. "Whatever ya say, fucker. See ya!"

"Yea, see ya," he mumbled lowly and then locked up.

Running a hand through blue locks, languidly stalking through his apartment, Grimmjow flopped back on the couch as he fished his cell phone out from the depths of the cushions. He decided he would look up Nel's beau on facebook before he forgot the guy's name and probably see what messages he had received, the last time he logged in forgotten.

As he logged in, reading his unread notifications, he mused over what Nnoi had complained about nearly all night. He would never take the guy up on his offer of finding him a good fuck, one to distract him, because he truly did have his eyes on one already, Ichigo naturally, and also… there was something he kept to himself that he had yet to spill to anyone, not even Nel and usually she'd be the first to know about Grimmjow's whereabouts.

Byakuya was back.

Like a damn sequel, ready to dominate the nation with another thrilling tale.

His lust had suddenly sprang to life, overtaking his very sanity, or so Byakuya had explained in such an elegant manner. His body had become an insatiable magnet to Grimmjow's, it craved for the negative counterpart to its positive one. This hiatus, this stalemate between their bodies had taken a toll on Byakuya and caused the man to crumble. Enough so that a few nights ago he had called Grimmjow late, around three in the damn morning, whispering dirty, dirty things and promising those dirty, dirty things in person in the near future.

The whole night had thrown Grimmjow into a whirlwind of emotions— the one topping the list would be carnal, dick-throbbing lust. But the other emotions were evident and a problem, ones that stung too. His lawyer, smarty side reminded him this would only lead him down a path of self-destruction. They would end up separating again and Grimmjow would be in a worse funk than he had been the last time. Fool him once, right? By god, he would not be fooled twice.

However, Byakuya promised it would be simply sex, which was not different from their first time, but this time they would not be exclusive. They were allowed to pursue other people, other relationships, as long as they could have their fix— and soon because Byakuya had sounded so desperate, so needy and so unlike himself.

It sounded like music to Grimmjow's ever-listening ears since it meant he could safely hound Ichigo while fucking his beautiful Byakuya on the side… But, and there were an infinite number of buts, he could not shake the bad feeling that arose when he thought about rekindling their old fling.

He had still proceeded to have phone sex with Byakuya that night. He couldn't help it as if he would ever pass up the opportunity to hear Byakuya's vulnerable voice, he rarely got to hear that and phone sex seemed to be the only time he paid in full.