Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All rights and reserved belong to Tite Kubo.

Warnings: A short and sappy ending to a really painful story, Ichi/Grimm action, and thoughtful imagery about the rain.

There's no long and detailed excuse about why I haven't written in so long. I just havent, but here's the epilogue to He Will Be Loved. It's been a strange, painful journey, but finally things can come to hopefully, a satisfying ending. If it's not well...I know you guys won't be afraid to tell me.

One Year Later

Grimmjow turned on his blinkers, and changed lanes, hearing a soft clunk thunk as he did so. It was raining cats and dogs and fish that afternoon, the sky was just beginning to turn pink and orange. He'd just clocked off for the day, after a very long day in court. He'd called home earlier, his heart doing a few sick jumping jacks when Ichigo didn't answer, but less than two minutes later the orange haired man called back, his voice gruff and husky from sleep. Lately Grimmjow had been getting off late into the night, but finally he could go home and just relax. He remembered that night so long ago, on a day like this one, when he'd gotten that call from Ichigo and the pure hell that had ensued. Both of them had changed, and grown a lot since then, in the process of patching each other up, they'd grown closer together. Though…they hadn't done more than a little heavy petting. He could tell that Ichigo was ready to move on, and finally consummate their love. He turned down the street, just as lightning flashed, and for a brief moment, it was like he was transported back in time. He had been gilding along in his sleek black car, with a shivering orange haired man in his passenger seat, wearing nothing but a threadbare white sheet and some socks.

His fingers twitched towards his cell phone, with a strange urge to call Coyote Starrk to keep Ichigo safe in his home, and away from his wife. All the while lying to himself, trying to convince himself that he wasn't in love with Ichigo, that what he had done was something expected of friends. The divorce with his wife had finalized six months before, she'd taken with her a lot of the furniture and some cash, but she claimed she left her bittersweet memories at Grimmjow's home. He shook his head, and turned into his housing complex. They'd moved Ichigo out of Starrks home and into Grimmjow's a long time ago. And every night that he came home and saw Ichigo there, happy and healthy, was a weight off of his shoulders. Even this long after the incident, he still thought he'd come home and find Ichigo gone, having taken some money and leaving a simple little note. He shook his head as he pulled into his little compact parking space. Ichigo had been in rehab for four months and in therapy for almost nine. Even now Ichigo woke up in a cold sweat with crazy stories about standing on the side of a skyscraper chatting with two strange yet comforting figments of his imagination. Grimmjow just lay there and listened to the stories, almost wishing he could follow him into his dream world and meet this Shirosaki and Zangetsu. Ichigo's therapist said that they would probably go away with time and that in fact…those delusions weren't destructive in any way shape or form, nothing but a coping mechanism.

Grimmjow locked his car and walked up the short path to his front door, he slipped his key into the lock, and unlocked the door, a grin already on his face, expecting Ichigo to throw himself into his arms like he usually did, but Ichigo wasn't in the foyer. He heard the faint sound of music and followed it to the downstairs den. Ichigo sat cross legged on the plush white carpet, his back against the couch, cutting pictures to go in a little scrapbook he'd been keeping, part of his therapy appearantly. The blue haired man grimaced when he identified his lover's music choice. Am I A Psycho, by Tech N9ne. He shook his head and grabbed the remote from off of the arm of the couch and turned it off. Ichigo's head swiveled around and he gave Grimmjow a flash of his angelic smile.

"Hey Grimm," He said simply, quickly moving from his little nest of paper scraps. Ichigo's hands slid up Grimmjow's chest and encircled his neck, playing with his electric blue hair. For a moment there was complete silence. Grimmjow searching the depths of those chocolate brown eyes, for some sort of vestige of a relapse, but he saw none. Sighing, he dropped the remote on the couch and wrapped his arms around Ichigo, gripping his lithe hips. He chuckled and kissed Ichigo's forehead. Ichigo pouted and lifted up on his tip toes to press his lips against Grimmjow's. Ichigo's lips were warm and molded to Grimmjow's perfectly, the bluenette hummed and slid his tongue across Ichigo's bottom lip, tasting honey and cinnamon. Ichigo's lips parted, in a silent invitation, and he slipped his tongue into his lovers mouth. Their bodies were pressed flush against each other, and Grimmjow began to explore Ichigo's mouth slowly and with wicked leisure. But he could feel that Ichigo wasn't in the mood for short and sweet. He was ready for something a little more intense. Grimmjow's hands slipped from his hips to the sinful curve of his ass. He kneaded the soft mounds of flesh, pulling him closer to get more friction while his mouth barraged the side of Ichigo's neck.

Ichigo giggled softly his hands playing in Grimmjow's hair and it was all he could do not to tackle him to the floor. Instead the two went upstairs to the bedroom, their hands all over each other, stoking the others fire into a furnace. When they reached their bedroom, Ichigo gently pushed Grimmjow's shoulders back on the pillows, the bluenette did not resist his treatment, instead he felt eager for whatever the orange haired man had in mind. And both of them could feel his eagerness in his nether regions. Ichigo gave him a secret smile, and Grimmjow knew they weren't going to pretend like Ichigo was some sweet little virgin. They both knew his experiences and had to accept them. The orange haired man drew his shirt over his head fluidly, kneeling on Grimmjow's lap, hovering over the tent in Grimmjow's slacks. He unbuttoned his cargo shorts allowing Grimmjow an intimate look at his lovers arousal. Heat flooded down to Grimmjow's groin at the sign of Ichigo's apparent want. He couldn't let Ichigo take the reins here, he wouldn't. But slowly, sane thoughts were slipping from his mind, as Ichigo threw back his head, and ran his hands over his chest, taking his time to tease his nipples into blushing hardness. Grimmjow's mouth was practically watering. He wanted so badly to capture those twin sensitive little buds, to nibble and suck them until Ichigo was nothing but a shivering mess. His hands grasped Ichigo's hips, seating him on top of his growing arousal.

"Oh, Ichigo…" The orange haired man's name changed into a groan of pleasure when Ichigo slipped his hands into Grimmjow's shirt, opened it, and rubbed the tips of his nipples against his muscular chest. Ichigo nipped lightly at Grimmjow's bottom lip and the firm line of his jaw. Then he nibbled a hot trail down his body, deftly undoing the clasp that held his pants closed. Grimmjow could hear his own gasp as if from a distance when Ichigo took him in his hands and caressed his pulsing shaft. And then his mouth was on him. First he used his lips and tongue up and down the thick, hard girth of him, sometimes he pulled off to gently tease his foreskin, a move who's origin Grimmjow didn't even want to contemplate. Grimmjow's body trembled and strained beneath his lovers administrations, and he moaned Ichigo's name over and over. Ichigo swallowed around him, sucking and teasing until Grimmjow growled and in one swift movement, flipped him onto his back.

Grimmjow ran his hands up and down his lovers body, pulling his cargo shorts off of him, and then gently pulling his erection out from underneath his boxers. God, was he beautiful. He didn't touch the obvious place, instead he began to caress his hips slowly, and traced his lower belly, and massaged his thighs. Only when his lover made a desperate sound, between a moan and a whine, and parted his legs did he place a few fingers at his puckered entrance, but his hand remained still.

Both of them were breathing hard, practically gasping for air. Ichigo whimpered and tugged at Grimmjow's wrist.

"Please…right there." Ichigo shuddered and tried to shift Grimmjow's fingers. The bluenette could tell he'd prepared himself earlier, and had been waiting for this.

"Are you sure?" Grimmjow asked in a husky voice. "I'm not going to ask you again, and I'm not going to allow you to run away." Ichigo growled and pulled him down into a kiss. The bluenette was more than satisfied with his answer, and he let the very last strands of his restraint fall away. His fingers slid home, and he was completely lost in the sensations. He didn't have to prepare him much, it seemed that Ichigo had prepared himself enough earlier, his hole was already lubed and stretched enough fro two of his fingers to thrust in and begin to scissor, and when he hooked his fingers to the right, Ichigo moaned loudly and lifted his hips off of the bed, allowing for better access. He could imagine his cock traveling the same path and it wasn't long before he was withdrawing his fingers. Instead, his fingers wrapped around Ichigo's hot pulsing member and he stroked him, capturing his nipple between his lips. His hot, open mouth moved down Ichigo's body, and sucked off the bead of precum resting the tip of his cock.

Ichigo couldn't lie still. He gasped in pleasure, the sounds coming from his sinful little mouth getting louder and louder, he was a prisoner caught between his hot slick mouth and the bed. Finally, Grimmjow positioned himself at the entrance and looked Ichigo in the eyes, both of them breathing raggedly.

"I love you Ichigo." Grimmjow said, slipping inside before Ichigo could answer. The orange haired man arched up and dug his blunt nails into his back. Even though Ichigo was prepared, he was still tight. The walls of Ichigo's ass held him fast, and he waited a moment for Ichigo to get used to it. He only continued when the orange haired man wiggled his hips. Grimmjow shook, his whole body on fire as he pumped into him, driving him into the bed. At first he moved slowly, surge and withdraw, with the gentle tempo of the ocean, but he could tell it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

Ichigo gasped, "More!" And encircled his waist with his long legs in desperation. Instantly, his pace became irregular and fast, and the room filled with the sounds of their pleasure and the sinful sound of slapping flesh. When he felt himself getting close to climaxing, he growled in Ichigo's ear, and began stroking him, but it seemed, Ichigo hadn't had enough yet. Ichigo's legs withdrew and he pulled his ass back, Grimmjow's cock stood proudly, as Ichigo sat him back on the bed. Ichigo locked his honey brown eyes with his blue hot gaze. The orange haired man straddled him. Holding himself on his knees above Grimmjow, he rested his tip against his hot wet heat. Then he impaled himself on him, slowly, deliciously, taking his length within him. With a deliberately teasing motion, he lifted himself back up onto his knees, so that his tip was throbbing against his opening. Then he slid down slowly again. Ichigo sheathed Grimmjow within him, until the exquisite tension appearantly built up beyond his bearing. Only then did he guide Grimmjow's hands to his hips and let the bluenette increase their tempo. They moved together urgently, the white light of passion filling their bodies with heat that built and built until the sweetness of it was unbearable. Ichigo pulsed around him, and he knew he was close to climax. Grimmjow was dangerously close himself. He pulled Ichigo down into a hot, soul sucking kiss, right before Ichigo came explosively, milking a sympathetic response from Grimmjow, who came deep inside of his lover.

Hours later, out of the vestiges of sleep, Ichigo groaned when he awoke. Grimmjow was half draped over him, holding him close, against his broad muscular chest. It was dark outside the window, and the pitter patter of the rain didn't bother him nearly as much as it used to. On a rainy night about a year ago he'd been rescued by Grimmjow, and on another, he was finally freed from his deranged uncle Aizen's grasp. He could understand why Shirosaki liked it now. Rain might be dreary, but with it it usually brought a welcome change. His thoughts shifted, and he smiled when Grimmjow grumbled in his sleep. Ichigo understood how much he truly owed the blue haired man. Smiling gently at the chain tattoos up his arms, he knew the past would always be with him, but he was going to grow into somebody worthy of Grimmjow. Ichigo's body was sore in places that made him understand just how thoroughly he was loved.

Alright, we'll please look out for my new fic called Strawberry Grenade. Ichigo is of course the main character. But he might not just be paired with Grimmjow this time. He's basically in Japan's version of the secret service, and he is supposed to infiltrate the Yakuza using any methods possible to win over their leader. Not gonna say who that is yet.

I would like to thank everyone who's stuck with me this long, and will continue to look for 'Strawberry Grenade' and read current stories I have out. This fic started out as a sort of experiment into the darker side of Fanfiction, instead of the crap I usually write. So for long, hardcore fans of He Will Be Loved, and you newbies, I just want to say,

Arigatou Gozaimasu.