Losing the War

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Author's Note: First off, I'd like to thank cathartic for betaing this for me. You're the best! MWUAH! Second, please note, if I do add to the story the material will undoubtedly earn its M rating. Haha. I just can't help myself.

- Prologue -

I'm dying. Ichigo Kurosaki's jaw clenched at the depressing thought. Maybe this was better though. He was losing it. Today's battle only confirmed it as he lay on the ground, his zanpakuto resting uselessly a few feet out of reach as he glared into unfathomably deep blue eyes. No, they weren't deep, he corrected himself sharply as he breathed raggedly, the Espada's hits well placed as he felt warm liquid running down his sides, making his clothes stick to him, clinging to his flesh as if it could hold his spirit in place.

If only it weren't doing the exact opposite.

The head above him cocked to the side curiously as his gaze remained trained on him solely with those eyes. They were piercing, like everything else about him, cutting into him and opening him up so that he was looking at himself in a way he'd rather never do. He was exposed. Weak. Helpless as the soul-eating man gazed down at him as if he were a dessert and he was skipping dinner because he looked that good.

"Does it hurt?" The blue-haired man asked almost curiously. "Dying?"

He clenched his eyes shut.

"Fuck you, Jaegerjaquez," he gasped out as the man leaned down slowly, shifting his weight effortlessly to the balls of his feet as he struggled to just breathe, his hand reaching out. The same hand that Ichigo had seen run straight through Rukia's chest as if it were the tip of a blade dipping through soft butter. He snarled as the man slowly smiled, his hand hovering just over his jerking chest.

"Don't tempt me," he said in a low voice, his mania from just moments before still there but more honed as if he was focusing all his attention and power to savor the moment when he, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, would finish Ichigo Kurosaki — and have his soul.

Ichigo heard a harsh laugh escape his own lips. As if there had ever been any question who would win. The number six of the Espada had been toying with him, egging him on, trying to tease the power he had been struggling to control out of him. As if his only goal were to watch him implode, destroying himself and everyone else in the process. He was fucking with him, because he knew he wasn't a real threat.

He, Ichigo, fucking substitute Soul Reaper, he had never had a chance in defeating the man before him, because he was too strong and Ichigo couldn't let himself reach that level without losing himself in the process. He had tried, he had tried so hard and the darkness swimming in his outer vision - blocking out the damned moon and its shape that did nothing but to remind him of the blue-haired man leaning over him - was a testament to his weakness. Grimmjow was stronger because he didn't care if he lost himself. He had nothing to lose.

He glared up into the face of the man who would kill him, waiting for the hand to deliver its deathly blow. "Just do it already dammit," he said, his breathing growing more even as his end became more inevitable, a peace settling over him. At least he had succeeded in only taking himself down. He hadn't lost his mind, he had won in a small way.

Losing the war to win the battle? an inner voice asked, spitting the words in disgust as yellow pupils grew, a sneer forming on white lips. You disgust me. You should have let me take over, I could have won. I can still win. Just give up, he said, approaching Ichigo slowly.

No! Go away! Go away! he shouted back at the monster in his mind who made him hate himself more than any enemy he had ever fought.

"Who are you talking to in there?" The whispered words jerked brown eyes back into focus. Blue eyes narrowed. "Is it him? Can you see him now, Kurosaki?" he asked in a dangerously smooth tone as his eyes grew more excited. "He likes me, you know? I can tell," he practically purred, his hand making contact with bare skin.

Ichigo gasped as heat flooded his body, making him feel like he was burning alive. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the splayed fingers to sink into his skin and end his existence. He watched as sharp teeth slowly descended and then words carried on a whisper, caressing his ear and then seeping into his brain, grabbing hold with sharp barbs, infecting him, "I'll tell you a little secret though. I prefer you, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Brown eyes shot open. When had he closed them? He shook his head, trying to shake the sentiment from his brain. It wasn't real. "You think my spirit will taste that good?" he asked, his words as sharp as the broken sword by his side.

A soft laugh filled the air and blue eyes pulled back to meet his once more. "Oh, I know it will," he said, his words swimming in a lust that Ichigo had never heard before.

Fingers began to slide, and a choked breath forced its way from his lips. "What are you waiting for then? Do it," he said brusquely, not sure why he was trying to push his soon to be killer's hand. Maybe he had already given up. A dry laugh tore itself from his lips. He was pathetic. Fingers stilled over his struggling heart.

"No, don't think I will."

Brown eyes narrowed. What was he trying to do? Was he messing with his head? Trying to get him to beg? Or maybe he didn't think he was worth killing. Too beneath him. He lifted his arm, the appendage tingling and starting to feel numb and far too heavy and grabbed hold of the hand on his chest.

"Do it."

He might have lost, but he deserved a warrior's death. He knew he did. He gritted his teeth at the wide smile hovering above him. "Fucking do it already!"

"No."

The word was said simply, like the blue-haired maniac was refusing to let Ichigo cheat off of him in math or as if he had asked the fucker for a ride home. "Do you want to know why I won't?" he asked, leaning closer, his eyes wide open even as he held himself only inches from his prey.

Ichigo felt himself shaking his head. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to know just at that moment as his breath grew more ragged, his weak pulse speeding up, rushing the inevitable - a death blown by his own weakness. There would be no final hit, his body would just slowly wear itself out.

Fiery lips brushed cooling skin. "Because, I'm not finished with you, I'm not going to do it until you're mine."

Ichigo opened his mouth to respond when the lips that had been tracing his cheek captured his lips. He grunted in surprise, his hand tightening around the man's wrist as fingers ran down his side, sliding carefully around his wounds and trailing along sticky skin. He struggled to push him off when a tongue entered his mouth and his eyes fell shut, his body and mind feeling like it had caught on fire. He heard his hollow scream out in rage before disappearing from his mind completely, feeling blissfully alone for the first time in what seemed an eternity.

Curled lips pulled back, leaving inches between their lips. "I knew you'd taste good," he said with a knowing smirk as he looked down at dilated pupils and a flushed face that had only moments ago been as pale as his clothes before spilling Ichigo's blood all over them.

Ichigo stared up at the man in shock and then used the last of his strength to jerk him back down, his tongue invading his mouth angrily. He couldn't just kiss him. He fumed as his tongue pushed forcefully into the mouth filled with sharp-teeth, a gasp being swallowed when unforgiving fingers slid along the final blow the Espada had laid on him, trailing the lines of the deep cut with a caressing touch. He groaned as his body bombarded him with too many feelings that made no sense: agonizing bliss, whisper-soft pain, and a furious need to live; to feel.

He felt suddenly lighter and his heavy eyes opened to see the blue-haired man standing, his chest heaving, his fingers and chest painted in blood that wasn't his own as he leered down at him.

"I'll be back for you, Ichigo," he said simply and then brown eyes fell shut, no longer able to hold themselves open, the whisper of a yell dying on his lips still unformed.

Grimmjow.