NOTE: Sept 3 2018 - This story no longer contains any content of a sexual nature that could be considered M+ Rated.

It is now, in my understanding, M Rated as per the TOS agreement at ffnet. And something I've been planning on getting to for awhile.

If one of the self appointed TOS police wants to take issue with me again on this story, you will need to message me and explain your problem in precise detail. You can't expect people to deal with ghosts.

JUNICHIBLUE

To readers: I may post this on AO3. As this stands here, most of the last chapter is missing. So message me if I haven't posted it yet.

X X X

What's it like to be a consort to the King. Unimpressed with his lot in life in the eyes of the Kingdom, Ichigo is loath to find out. Grimmjow expects another night of passion. But instead, his fire is put on hold while he battles his rebellious citizen. Grimmichi.

King

Feathers fell down through the leaves of a giant oak, iridescent blues and greens glittering as they caught in golden flickers of the sun's broken flames. Their journey, their last as they spiralled towards the earth on the early spring breeze.

They bore only a short witness to the happenings of their departure. The body they left was being attacked with abandon, taken in the open at the peak of the oak. Only the setting sun was privy to the throes of passion that happened on this impatient Spring evening.

It was a tawdry affair, a new lifelong connection.

But not even the great provider of light and life could ever know or understand just what it was that brought these two beings together in such a hurried frenzy of mating. Of lust. Of love.

Was it just a chemical reaction? Was it coded in their blood? Or did it run deeper, an ethereal connection between two souls?

A pair of azure eyes stole a glance at the private moment, and wondered.

Whatever it was, he certainly hadn't found it yet.

Only the birds knew what secrets had passed between them.

X X X

- Deleted paragraph -

Grimmjow turned away from the body on his bed. Breathing heavy from exertion, and frowning from a growing frustration he couldn't put into proper thoughts.

Grimmjow was fortunate the city he had come to rule over was so vast.

He'd been the King for over a year now. The passing of his father had been hard, but the man had given Grimmjow his full blessing before his illness took him. Grimmjow could do whatever he wanted to find a mate and sire a family of his own. His old man's last request; that he indeed find one. With haste.

And he needed to. He was the last. His bloodline had come to an end. They had all been warriors, and good ones, but through the years the fertile lands surrounding these walls had raged with battles, and sickness was always waiting. And so, one by one, the fruit of his family tree had been diminished until it had finally been picked clean. Save for Grimmjow.

And now the kingdom was his to rule.

Since he was of age, a young prince with endless energy and a lust that could never be sated for long, Grimmjow had had consorts. The youth of the city were his, should he desire them. And he had, without shame. Night after night. One by one, they'd bowed to his demands, given themselves to him. But only their bodies.

Not one yet had ever attracted his heart.

The last year had been difficult, stressful in new ways for the fledgling King. Grimmjow didn't even choose who he slept with anymore. There wasn't time. Too many things needed his attention, so the choice was left to the family's trusted advisor to select and groom the youths he deemed safe and acceptable consorts for the blue-eyed prince turned King. That decision had been made long before Grimmjow's ascent to the throne. Years before his reign had even been considered.

Grimmjow was fine with that. It was like having a nice surprise waiting for him at the end of each day, when his royal duties had been seen to. And he had always been fine with the idea of a consort to release his tension. What self respecting King should ever have to take that duty into his own hands? Certainly not him.

Nor would he bed the same man more than once. Then they were free to pursue their own sexual conquests as they saw fight. But only then.

Each of his nightly partners was a virgin, brought to him when they came of age. By law. For the sake of the King's health and safety, any youth selected by the royal family's advisor had to remain a virgin until he was either offered up or released from his duty. The second part had never happened. There were 365 days in a year, and Grimmjow had filled almost every one of them with a new conquest.

But it wasn't just his libido that kept him moving forward.

And he wasn't really such a bastard as to ignore the needs of his partners.

So he moved on for two reasons. First, he felt nothing for the ones he spent his nights with. Second, he didn't want his consorts to become unduly attached. It happened from time to time. A young man he'd had would return, bowing at the foot of his throne, asking if he could be of service again. Grimmjow turned them away as kindly as he could, which, by his gruff nature, had an edge of coldness to it that, on more than one occasion, had left tears in the eyes of his former pursuits.

Grimmjow stood out on the wide marble balcony that overlooked his city as the soft mask of twilight approached. He was naked, and the evening air licked her cool tongue along every hard and soft curve of his sweat slicked skin. He heard soft steps approaching him from behind, but didn't turn.

"You can go."

A shaky voice, still a little breathless, answered from inside the dimly lit room. Muted by the carpet on the floor. The sound of disappointment. But no regrets.

"Yes, my Lord."

X X X

Ichigo paced around the lavish room. Chestnut brown eyes scanned everything from the dark oak furniture, to the tapestries on the wall, tasteful, he noted, to the ornate rug that covered much of the cold marble floor beneath his feet.

He was alone in the King's private chambers.

And no, he wasn't walking. He was definitely pacing, pausing to study each and every object that fell into view, each one utterly un-fascinating and failing miserably as a distraction. Could he use any of it as a weapon? No. That wouldn't end well for him. He turned for another strafing run and without his expressed consent, his eyes fell upon the object he loathed the most, the one thing that send his gut into a flitting panic.

The one thing in the room he'd been trying to avoid looking at was the hardest to miss.

The four poster bed by the wall near the balcony.

The bed he was dragged here to be thrown onto and taken.

By the King himself.

X X X

Ichigo stood, frozen to the marble floor at the edge of the balcony. He was half considering leaping over the side.

But it was a long long way down.

The door to the prison... the room... he'd been left to wait in for nearly two hours, had opened.

In that time, he'd discovered one thing he liked about the place. The view from the balcony was breathtaking. As a mere commoner, Ichigo's life was on the streets. He worked to feed himself and his family. And he played as hard as he worked whenever he had the chance. He had acquired many skills, more than most. He was swift, and strong, and good with a sword. And he loved to climb. But he'd never been up this high before. The city was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, and from here, he imagined he could walk out onto the air. And right now, he wanted to.

"Why are you still dressed?" The low growl cut through Ichigo like a rusty blade. And it took a moment for the words to register.

"Excuse me?" he said dumbly, offence in his voice, even though he wasn't sure he'd quite figured out what he'd heard just yet.

"Did Urahara not inform you about procedure?"

"Pr- procedure?!" Now he was just offended.

Grimmjow gave a level stare and corrected himself. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Yes, his consorts were instructed to be unclothed and ready for him upon his arrival. Their exposure appealed to him. And he needn't take the time to undress them to decide if they were desirable. Grimmjow's advisor knew well what he liked.

It was common, however for his conquests to shy up. And many a time, when he walked in, he would find them in various states of attire. He was always quick to remedy their disobedience, but he never gave them a hard time about it.

But tonight, he felt like tormenting the young man who acted like he clearly hadn't gotten the memo on his duties. There was just something about him, the instant he saw him standing at the terrace, a ray of sun setting fire to that shock of orange hair. His figure was young, strong and lean, but he stood with the pride of a man set in his straightened back.

And there was more. There was a scent in the air, a vibe that Grimmjow had picked up on even before he'd reached his chambers. Indeed, the moment he walked in, he felt a spark of wanting like nothing he'd ever felt before.

"Okay. Protocol. What's expected of you, of course. Our customs," he amended, walking forward in a slow, confident march across the vast expanse of lush carpet. His heavy mud-encrusted boots left flakes of dirt in their wake. The young man eyed him thoroughly, gaze taking in the armour that he'd already dropped from his shoulders, the tarnished silver chain-mail weave of his shirt, and the sheathed sword at his side.

Grimmjow was surprised at the surge in his libido. He'd had a long day, what should have been a quick fight in the battlefield to repel a small invading group drawn out to this late hour. As the last in his line and his loss unthinkable, he'd forced the issue and lead his men to victory. All he'd wanted to do when he got to his chambers was play around for awhile, be touched by hands that didn't hold a thirsty sword in them, and then get some needed sleep.

The orange-haired youth sniffed, arms folding in a defensive gesture.

"Your customs are barbaric. And I refuse to participate."

The King frowned, words leaving him. Well, this was new. He was shocked that such bold statements would be coming from one of his consorts, especially such an attractive young male. And that voice. Somehow, despite the ungracious mindset of his guest, Grimmjow's cool hadn't quite slipped yet. But he was dangerously close.

He kept a level stare, finally noticing the depth of the brown eyes that bore his wrath with the strength and composure of a stone wall. He stopped short of the balcony's entrance way, near the corner of the neatly made bed, a fair enough distance left between them.

"You... dare refuse me? Are you daft?" The King motioned to the room around them. "Do you know where it is exactly that you're standing?"

"I do. And no, I'm not. And yes, I'm aware of where I am."

"And...?"

"I'm here against my will." The King raised an unimpressed brow, and Ichigo grumbled in response. "I'm saving myself."

"Yes. I know." He smirked, eyes cool with his own darkening amusement. "For me."

Grimmjow released the long, heavy blade from his side and leaned it against the foot of the bed. Ichigo, kept his eyes on his adversary.

"Tch. Not likely."

Grimmjow ignored that as he reached for the belt around his waist.

"What's your name... kid."

"I'm not a kid." The stone wall crumbled a little and the young man glared. "And it's Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Well... Kurosaki." He pulled the belt free and tossed it on the floor at the foot of the bed. "I'm your King, and you will do as you're commanded."

The red-brown eyes Grimmjow was watching hardened further, a harbinger of things to come, and he felt himself brace.

"I'm not one of your damn soldiers."

Grimmjow blinked, disbelief stalling his mind. But shock only held him back for a moment. Once was a mistake. Twice was sheer defiance.

"You insolent little...!" he snarled, taking two steps forward, his hand already reaching and finding the sword hilt resting by his hip. The boy's eyes widened, the first sign of honest fear in them finally showing through. Grimmjow gritted his teeth and loosened his grip on his weapon. For some reason, he really wanted this kid. He reminded himself that he wanted to bed him, not scare him stupid. With a deep internal sigh, he straightened himself out from the half lunge he'd stepped into. He leaned the naked sword against the foot of the bed, a gesture of non-violence on his part, and tilted his head consideringly.

The brat didn't want to be here. He thought he was too good to be a consort.

Che. Perhaps a little reverse psychology was in order. Grimmjow had seen his advisor use it on more than one occasion. It could be an effective tool.

"I'm starting to think Urahara's lost his touch," he growled. "An ungracious street rat with a filthy mouth like yours has no business in my palace."

Hn. Urahara might have done it better.

Now normally, Ichigo would have been all up and over a guy for a comment like that. But he had far more immediate plans at the moment. He brushed passed the King without so much as a "by your leave" and took two long strides towards the doorway.

"You make a good point. Then I'll just be leaving... Urk!"

The room spun around him, and before Ichigo knew what had happened, he'd stumbled back and been pinned with brute force to what should have felt like a soft bed. He'd bounced once, his legs bent at the knees, thighs burning a little from the sudden stretch. But it was the fist around his throat, cutting off his air, that had every last ounce of his attention. Not the plush layers of bedding beneath him.

An azure storm bored down into him, and he strained to breathe, coughing in air as the pressure finally lifted. Grimmjow pulled back, anger radiating off him like a blazing fire.

"You can leave if you want, but the only place you'll go is the fucking cells," he snarled.

Goddamn. Grimmjow hadn't been this mad in awhile. No one in Ichigo's position had ever said, no, before. No one had ever dared. And as far as Grimmjow knew, no one had wanted to.

It had always been the same. They were all nervous. Some downright shy in the presence of royalty.

But they never denied him, even those few who hadn't enjoyed themselves.

Grimmjow didn't fault them for it. He was more than most could handle.

But this... insolent, brash, soon to be chained up or outlawed punk in front of him...

He hoped he cried.

Grimmjow bared his teeth in distaste at the young man who had just defied him. Well, he couldn't call him young, not really, not when he he himself was only a few years older, the last weeks of his own teenaged years passing him quietly by in the midst of his father's abrupt illness.

Ichigo drew himself up off of wrinkled sheets on legs that he swore to himself weren't shaking in the slightest, and stood defiant at the end of the bed where he was meant to lie.

"If that's what you feel you need to do, then go ahead."

Grimmjow rolled his shoulders as he took a breath and stepped in close.

"You tempt me, brat." His words were more a growl as he stepped up to the brazen youth and glared down.

Ichigo just looked right back at him.

"I'd rather spend my time with the rats in the dungeon than be a King's whore."

Azure eyes lit up, and Grimmjow's limited control finally snapped. It wasn't his intention. He was fresh off the battlefield, and the violence of the day still clung to his senses. This stalemate was at an end.

Ichigo felt his neck strain, tendons pulling taut as his head snapped to the side. He grunted, vision unclear, jaw burning. But he was already pushing himself up from where he'd been sent to the floor by the powerful backhand. He blinked hard, and gripped the bedpost to haul himself off of all fours. Something heavy slid flat against his knuckles and he stopped to glance up at it.

He heard a catch in the King's breathing along with his own. Then a short cackle that made him want to growl.

"Ohhh... You want my sword?" Grimmjow's eyebrow raised and he sneered, voice taunting, almost a sing song. Just. Daring.

He took a step away from foot of the bed, where it rested in the crook of the frame, and gave a short nod at boy on the floor.

"Take it," he sneered, the warning in his eyes palpable.

Brown eyes flickered from the floor to the unsheathed sword inches from his fingertips. The temptation of it was palpable in his veins.

Instead he let his head drop fractionally, eyes cast down, heat and anger hidden by the fringe of his orange bangs.

He'd lost.

Grimmjow's dirt encrusted boots came into view as he stepped before him.

"Ah. So you're not quite as stupid as you let on."

Ichigo's head shot up, muddy eyes loaded with venom, but Grimmjow only glared down at him as he bellowed across the room.

"Guards!"

The door opened immediately, and Ichigo's head snapped to the side. It hurt. Ichigo wondered how much it would have taken for his own cries to open that door. Probably uncountable.

"My Lord." Two men appeared, stopping just inside the door.

"Take this wilful wretch underground. Single cell. Apparently, life isn't good enough for him up here. We'll see if he changes his attitude after some time in the dungeons."

Ichigo didn't protest as he was manhandled away.

He'd won.

After a long moment of silence and of staring at the door, Grimmjow heaved a sigh and dropped onto the bed where his sword still stood. He shrugged out of the armoured shirt he wore and scratched at the back of his neck, down between his shoulder blades.

He was really going to need to have a talk with Urahara about this. The man had been an excellent advisor for many long years. But clearly, this infuriating creature had slipped past his keen sense of taste.

X X X

"...ungrateful ass in the dungeon for a month, and then I swear I'm going to have him fucking beheaded."

A figure stood at the foot of the throne and listened in amiable silence as his King regaled him with a well colored tongue on all the finer points of his unrivalled misfortune.

"He is different, isn't he?"

"That's your answer?" The King glared, a telltale clench in his jaw. "You're gonna have to do a lot better than that, Kisuke."

"I think he's a wonderful young man."

There was a short pause as blue eyes narrowed.

"...So, I'm thinking of hiring a new advisor..."

"Ah. Yes. Indeed." Urahara cleared his throat. "Your majesty, what I mean to say is, Kurosaki Ichigo isn't the rabble he seems to be. Yes, he is a very strong minded boy. Disagreeable at times. But he is not unlike his King in many ways."

"Guards."

"Now, now, my Lord. You asked for my opinion." Urahara clasped his hands together, trying not to wring them, as he half bowed his head.

"No. I didn't. I asked you why the hell you saw fit to drag such an unruly, defiant, thankless, and frankly disloyal upstart into my chambers where I might wish to enjoy myself, only to be denied my right to bed him."

"Ah. Yes. That." He raised a finger and continued carefully. "Well... because he has good qualities which I'm certain would quickly become apparent to my Lord under less... pressured... circumstances."

Grimmjow frowned.

"Speak fast."

"I've known the boy for quite awhile, and I've found he is quite the natural leader himself."

"A leader?" the King spat, disbelief evident in narrowed eyes. "Of what!? Mouthy virgin rebels?" He gripped the polished stone arms of the throne and leaned forward to look down on his esteemed advisor.

"I have enough rebellions to deal with outside the city. I don't need any in my chambers, Kisuke."

"It's to be expected of him. Like you, he is also a warrior at heart."

"Che."

"Though his refusals on this particularly sensitive subject may be for himself..." he paused as the blue-haired King sneered at the reminder. "...as a matter of course he fights for others, for what he believes in, even if it means he takes the fall in the process. He is well liked by his peers, and tends to his family with devotion beyond his years. Have you never heard his name before? He's spent quite a few nights in your dungeons."

Grimmjow blinked, surprise burning out quickly down the wick of his short fuse.

"Did you suddenly forget how busy I've been this past year? I leave all minor offences to my guards to deal with. You know that."

"Yes, indeed. And I have been busy for several years now myself... tending to your needs."

Kisuke Urahara bowed slightly as the King growled.

"Happily I might add. But, my Lord..." He looked up and all traces of humour were gone. "I must insist that you give this boy a fair chance, and the opportunity to show you his true colors. It is a fact that the Kingdom needs an heir. Your father, rest his soul, had great hopes that this... process would see you find a suitable mate. Forgive me, my Lord, but it is my honest opinion that you have been forgetting the original purpose of your nightly pursuits of late.

Though Grimmjow remained still, his unamused blue eyes were set on his advisor with intense interest.

"Anyone else Kisuke, would find themselves at the end of my sword."

"You are too kind, my Lord. And I assure you, I do have a point."

"I'm sure you do. Enlighten me then before I change my mind."

"Perhaps it is time to consider giving your consorts more than one night to prove their worth."

Grimmjow regarded his advisor coolly for several long seconds.

"Very well. I'll take some of that into consideration. But only because of my father's abiding faith in you, Kisuke. You're dismissed."

"My Lord." Kisuke folded one arm neatly across his stomach and bowed.

Grimmjow was nearly relieved to see the blond advisor go. He took his scruffy five o'clock shadow and oddly conniving slippery smile with him as he left the King to his throne. But Grimmjow didn't have time to consider Kurosaki Ichigo's finer attributes, physical or otherwise. He was up to his neck in meetings.

It was going to be a long, rough day.

X X X

Ichigo leaned against the ageing bars of his small cell and listened to the sounds that echoed through the maze of short tunnelled halls. Everything was familiar. The drops of water that leaked from the blackened ceiling and onto the prisoners, having escaped from God knew where above them. The stale, musty smell of damp and mold. The wet, telltale cough of prisoners exposed to it for far too long.

It had sounded like a good plan.

It was fruitless to beg for amnesty or try to sweet talk his way out of sex with the King. He'd heard that had been tried before, and word on the street was that the former prince hadn't shared his consorts' views. The King took what the King wanted.

Ichigo was a good person. He knew that. He didn't mind living hand to mouth. He didn't mind it because he had all the things that mattered most, a close family, strong friendships, and a will to fight to make the things that mattered better. What he was completely unimpressed with was his so called lot in life in the narrow eyes of the King's palace. He'd been chosen by Kisuke Urahara, the previous and current King's trusted advisor. He was to be a part of the circus of young men that had been being paraded through the King's bed chambers for far too long.

He was frankly unwilling to bend over and give the King access to his.. personal quarters. In fact, Ichigo was pretty much appalled about the whole thing. He needed more. Connection. Lust with love. An equal footing. A partner in life. Otherwise, it was just an empty act, and he wouldn't let himself be used by the likes of anyone, even royalty.

But his words, his needs, had always fallen on deaf ears. And now, here he was.

It was a good plan. But it was a dangerous plan too.

Present himself as obnoxious and undesirable. Disgusted by a cheap one night stand with the King. And maybe he'd be turned away.

That wasn't a hard role to play. He was disgusted by it. And he could be those other things too, at times. Or so he'd been told.

All he had to do was do his time in the cells, then hopefully he'd be free to go home and live his life, unspoilt until he saw fit to change it. On his terms. What was a night or two of imprisonment to him anyway? Except...

Wait... Grimmjow hadn't mentioned an actual sentence length, had he?

Uh oh.

Ah... shit.

Oh well. It wasn't like he wasn't familiar with these accommodations. Hell, even a week or two in here was no sweat off his back for the freedom it bought him.

"Hey Ichigo! Haven't seen you here in... weeks! Your dad finally chain you up, or what?"

"Hey Shinji." He gave a sideways smile to the blond guard, reaching through the bars to bump fists. "What's new?" he drawled.

"Oh. Well... let me tell you... " The guard was young, not much older than him. Ichigo was a little jealous. The guy was set. A year as a simple turnkey in the dungeon, and he could apply to be a royal guard of the courts. The pay was good. Three gold coins a week.

Damn. What Ichigo could buy for his family with that kind of coin...

But.. oh yeah. He wasn't really in a position to be applying for a job in the King's palace.

Maybe if Grimmjow had at least offered to pay him, he might have...

Gross.

"Hope you're hungry today, Ichi."

"Why's that?"

"Because we have a new and improved menu!"

"Uhuh. No more water and stale bread?"

"Nope. Now it's water and mouldy bread!"

"You enjoy your line of work?"

"Nah. But you help me pass the time, Ichi."

"I'm honoured."

"Hmmm. That's not what I hear."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I heard from reliable sources that you ain't in here for ordinary fighting this time."

"So?"

"So, you're here 'cause you wouldn't give the King a taste of that sweet - ... glnx!"

"You wanna not be talking to me about that, 'kay Shinji? I'm not comfortable with it, alright?"

*cough* "Hey. Who's the guard here? You really do need to learn your place around the palace, Ichigo."

"You know what. I'm fine outside the palace. It may not always be easy, but I'll take freedom to being bullied like that any day."

"Bullied? Dude. Ya saved it for him didncha? And now the King himself wants to DO ya..."

"Shut up."

"...Take ya to pleasure town..."

"Shut..."

"Have some nookie with a rookie..."

"Oh, my God. Shut up!"

"Seriously, Ichi. You may think he's a bastard for trying ta feel ya up, but he's rich and hot. And I hear he's no slouch in bed."

"Doesn't matter if he's rich! It's a cheap one night stand! And I said, shut up!"

"I don't see what your problem is, Ichigo."

"Did you have to sleep with him?!"

"Well, no. I'm not his type. But you are. I bet you could even give him a run for his money."

"Guards!"

"What? Hey! You can't do that! That's my job!"

X X X

He moved through the narrow halls uncontested on silent feet, the frayed, brown, hooded robe he wore, brushing against the walls, that in some spots, shimmered with algae from the constant dampness of the place.

He didn't usually come down here. It was dark, damp, musty, and cold. Full of bad smelling things, and depressing as shit.

But there was a reason for it. The people who languished here were criminals. Deserving of their punishment. And in his kingdom, as with his father's, punishments were harsh, but short lived. He believed in second chances, as a rule. A slap on the wrist for the small stuff.

He'd intended to let the boy who had gone against him languish for only a day or two in the cells. Though he'd been recklessly free with his words, the kid hadn't gone for the sword, so he was going to give him points for that. He'd been here since last night, and Grimmjow was wondering if he might be ready to see things Grimmjow's way. He was still unsatisfied, the morning bringing no life to his libido. But now.. with thoughts of the unruly orangette on the forefront of his mind again... he might see fit to shorten his sentence and give the kid a second chance to fulfil his... duties. He grinned at the thought. Surely he would be more agreeable now.

The sight that greeted him in the dark corridor wasn't what he expected. It seemed that Urahara was right. One day down here, and he was the life of the party. In fact, as Grimmjow surveyed his prisoner, the kid was busy lifting the spirits of those around him, reminding them of all they had to return to back out in the streets of the city when they saw them again.

Grimmjow watched from the shadow of the hood he wore as the youth gestured through the bars to his fellow prisoners, donning an easy air and tossing a piece of bread to the slender figure across the corridor.

He watched with interest as the boy gave the man a soft smile, genuine and fulfilled, before he turned away from the bars, hand rubbing once across his stomach as he moved away to sit on his patch of cold concrete floor.

X X X

He had languished for only a full day and two nights in the dungeon, the King apparently having decided to give things another go.

Not that Ichigo would budge.

He counted himself fortunate, though. The King could have just taken him by force. He was bigger, stronger, meaner, and more lethally trained than Ichigo could hope to be, what with his self taught street smarts.

After being sent to shower and change into new clean clothes, Ichigo had spent the next morning under ordered silence at the King's heel. Stuck throne-side, sitting in on the endless parade of requests from rich and poor alike. He thought he'd be bored off his stone. But as it turned out Grimmjow was the one who seemed to be suffering through the routine barrage of questions and requests. Even the sentencing of a murderous traitor to the gallows hadn't seemed to phase him.

Grimmjow yawned and waved the guards out of the room from his perch so he could have a moment of privacy with his guest for the morning.

"I'm thinking of taking a break at noon," he stated flatly. "I think you should accompany me to my quarters for a quickie."

Ichigo folded his arms and didn't even deign to look up.

"You're a spoiled ass and I'm not sleeping with you. So you may as well have me drawn and quartered now."

Grimmjow glared down to where Ichigo sat beside him in the throne room.

"You know me, then?" He asked, coolly.

Ichigo had to tilt his head a little to look him in the eye.

"By reputation."

"Hn. And which one would that be... exactly?"

"You're hot tempered, and entitled. You show no mercy in battle, but you're good to your people. Mostly."

Grimmjow's eye twitched at the word, entitled. But the rest he agreed with.

"Mostly? You're referring to my poor, mistreated consorts, I presume?"

"Actually, no. Today, here..." Ichigo sat up, gesturing to the empty hall. "Some of those requests were fair ones. I don't get why you didn't approve them."

A thin blue eyebrow rose sharply at the comment, slightly more curious than insulted.

"Well, Kurosaki Ichigo... I've got a minute," the blue-haired royal crooned. "Why don't you enlighten me. Your views might be entertaining to hear."

Ichigo grumbled to himself at the added slight, but proceeded to tell the King just how wrong his thinking was regarding several of the morning's issues.

Grimmjow listened with a growing frown as he rattled off point after point about the faults within the city's inner workings.

"...and with bigger rations and better quality, they'd be less inclined to fall ill so often, and would be strong enough to help out. It's good for everyone."

And damn that kid, if he hadn't made some good ones.

Ichigo had a grasp of the city's urban problems in a way that Grimmjow didn't. He never had the time to go mingle with the peasants and hear every single personal story of hardship and poverty. The city wasn't filthy rich, but its inhabitants were housed and clothes and fed. The daily march of minor complaints paled in comparison to the battles he and his family had fought and died in to keep the city's walls safe from breach by invaders. Trivial even.

There were always those who complained. They brought their problems to him, and with ease he brushed them off. Today especially.

X X X

Ichigo fumed. He'd been sent back to Grimmjow's room for the entire afternoon, ordered to wait until the King was done denying his peasants their perfectly reasonable requests, and in the mood to torture Ichigo some more with his perverted sex games instead.

"...strong enough to help out. It's good for everyone."

"Hn... I think you've had enough throne time. You're gonna be wearing my crown for me if I let you."

He'd been effectively patted on the head.

No. Ichigo wasn't going to wear his crown. He was gonna take it, twist it, and shove the sharp, gleaming metal right up his royal...

He looked around the room, hard brown eyes searching the door, the window, the balcony.

"What the hell am I supposed to do up there all afternoon?!"

"I dunno. Read or something. I've got lots of books. There's even some tantric shit in there. Get educated."

He had to get out of here.

X X X

Grimmjow returned to his chambers with sex on the brain. It had been a whole day without any desirable means of gratification. He did not consider his own hand a means.

He needed to sort this kid out soon. As Kisuke had eventually pointed out, Grimmjow had denied and dismissed nearly every request presented to him that day.

He strode into the room, looking for that unruly mess of orange hair with a new sense of anticipation. Things had to go better this time around.

And they might have, except...

Grimmjow stopped.

Except...

...that...

...Ichigo didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. There were guards at the door all day so there was no way he'd... He spun around, half expecting the kid to be creeping out the door behind him. But no.

Stunned blue eyes twitched as they jumped from place to place, the open bathroom, the bed, the balcony.

Something was missing. Something besides that kid. The King's mouth dropped from its hinges as he squinted at the centre of the room.

The bed.

His bed.

Grimmjow's head listed to the side.

Where were all his sheets?

No. He couldn't have.

With a swear, he hurried across the room to confirm the impossible. Okay. Implausible. Okay. This was Ichigo, so... Possible.

He wouldn't have.

Grimmjow stopped at the entrance way, looked down at the marble flooring... and blinked.

He did.

The sheet was knotted around one of his candle holders. And said holder was wedged sideways, a precarious looking but ultimately stable affair, between two of the thick railings of his balcony, only enough room for the sheet to slip between them. It created a nice breeze, but kept the rain out. Grimmjow could also stand outside in his glory without offending or titillating any passers by with the vision needed to clearly see him from that height.

The King took three long steps, and with a deep breath, leaned out over the edge and looked straight down. He realized, as he looked for splatter, that he'd been afraid for his consort. Actually, afraid.

He growled.

Damn it all! This brat!

How did the kid even find enough bedsheets to reach that far? It didn't seem to make any sort of mathematical sense to Grimmjow. He leaned as far out as he could, but he couldn't make out a crop of orange. There were too many outcroppings of trim along the castle walls to get a clear view to the base of it. But the tension in the line, the minute vibrations, said that the kid was still clinging to it, deftly working his way to the bottom, and to freedom.

Once a guy like Ichigo got away into the city, Grimmjow's guards would have a hell of a time extracting him again. There was no way in hell Grimmjow was going to wait that long for sex. And Grimmjow wasn't interested in fucking anybody else but him.

His hand smacked against the railing in a rage, and within moments he was charging like hell was on his heels down the stone corridor, and heading for the ground floor two steps at a time.

X X X

He was almost there.

A few more feet and he could safely drop to the ground. He inched down, heart beating quickly still with exhilaration.

That had been fun. There had been several moments where he had thought the guards passing underneath him would look up, but the simps never did. He smirked. He'd timed it so he had plenty of time to drop and slip away from the castle walls. Once he was on a main pathway, he could just walk right out, no different from any of the other visitors enjoying early blossoms on the King's well kept grounds.

He glanced down. Close enough. And by no shortage of luck. He was out of rope, his feet hooked together in the tail-like strands of a large ball of thread. He was glad he'd thought to use the two curtain cords from the balcony drapes as a last minute addition. They hadn't tasted good between his teeth on the climb down, but it was a small price to pay to keep the whole affair from dangling in plain view of the guards.

He glanced down at the ground, judging the drop again. Perfect, just a foot off the ground. All that material must have been stretching, maybe even tearing, under his weight as he reached the bottom. Man his luck was just shining today. He was almost home fr...

Ichigo froze.

Something had poked his arm, just hard enough to twist him as he hung at the end of the line.

He felt himself turning slowly, as if on a breeze.

"You used my bath towels. And the napkins. And the cords from my drapes."

Ichigo's expression turned from shock to a look of casual indifference.

"I had a lot of time on my hands."

"No shit. Reading didn't appeal to you?"

Ichigo shrugged a shoulder as much as he could.

"Some of it. Then I got bored."

Grimmjow stepped forward and hooked one finger over the collar of Ichigo's shirt, pulling him forward until their false mutual expressions of utter calm were mere inches apart. From their current positions, their eyes were perfectly level.

Grimmjow's twitched, and he glared dangerously at the other's, azure eyes dropping to his slippery consort's mouth.

"You have some fibers in your teeth."

Ichigo obliged, opening his mouth and pulling his upper lip back. Grimmjow reached forward and deftly tugged at the long piece of frayed cord that was wedged between his front teeth.

Ichigo licked them, and nodded, twisting lazily with the rope and swinging side to side a little as his shirt was released.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

X X X

"So, here's the deal."

Grimmjow took a healthy sip of mead from his challis as he reclined on his bed. Ichigo had retreated back out on his usual perch, the closest thing to freedom he could find.

"I won't force you, for now."

Ichigo head snapped around towards him, away from the dying orange glow of the setting sun. Brown eyes were pitched with angry flecks of gold, a trick of the light.

"For now? Are you sure? That's a pretty big commitment," he sneered. "What about the meantime? I might get in the way while your busy with your other consorts. I know how you can't go without it."

Ichigo's tone was positively dripping with condescension.

Grimmjow ignored him in favour of imbibing more mead, the only relaxation he could find at the moment that didn't involve X X X.

"But in return, you will continue to stay here for awhile, in this room, with me." The until you give in, wasn't needed.

"What? Why the hell should I have to stay here?!"

Bored blue eyes grazed over Ichigo's outraged expression.

"So I can continue to enjoy the pleasure of your oh so charming company."

"Keh. It'll be entirely your pleasure then," Ichigo grunted, face pulling into a sulky scowl that was suited to one much younger than his years.

Grimmjow looked back to his mead.

"Indeed," he deadpanned.

Still sipping on his beverage, Grimmjow tossed an extra pillow and blanket onto the floor and motioned to the swan-back couch at the far end of the room. He heard Ichigo grumble from the balcony one more time before they both fell silent for the night.