Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or Supernatural. The only explanation I have for such an atrocity is that the world is undeniably cruel. Well, toward me at any rate.

Chapter Two

'Sin City'

"There ya're, fellas. One coffee, black, and one tall, ice water."

Ichigo muttered his thanks as he took the glass of water, the condensation gathered on the sides causing him to grip it a little tighter than would otherwise be necessary. Grimmjow merely grunted his own appreciation. He was still ticked off at losing one of his favourite shirts, the one that had 'mysteriously disappeared' into thin fucking air. Grimmjow wasn't exactly a sceptical man; the kinds of nightmarish creatures that belonged in myths and folklore he'd encountered over the years saw to that. But a shirt growing legs and waltzing right out of their motel room? Yeah fucking right.

Dressed now in dark denim jeans and a long sleeved white thermal, Grimmjow glanced up at his orange haired lover decked out in a baby blue polo and purple skinnies. He felt his lip curling. The wee fucker had something to do with it, he was certain. He'd been too quick to dismiss the issue as 'stupid and unimportant', and, having been the one to peel it off of his hunter sculpted torso himself just last night, there really was no one else to blame. The fact that his peachy skinned partner was hiding something from him, quite probably a lot more important than a vanishing tee, was driving the older male to distraction. He found the same question plaguing his brain that had been doing so ever since he was drudged up from the pits of Hell…

Just what in the name of holy good fuck was Ichigo hiding?

A soft, feminine cough to his right had the blunette reluctantly drawing away from his tortured thoughts, his piercing aquamarine orbs flicking up to the waitress he'd only just realised was still standing there. Grimmjow cocked a blue tinted brow, waiting for the punch line.

"Um, sorry to bother you," she started shyly, tucking a long strand of blonde hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail behind her ear. Grimmjow resisted the gnawing urge to roll his eyes and shoo her on. He really wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. "I couldn't help but notice you pulling in earlier, and I was just curious…is that your car?"

At this, Grimmjow immediately brightened, flashing the girl a winning smile like she had just complimented his newborn babe. "Sure is, doll," he drawled, coffee forgotten as he turned his attention to the large window out front, the Impala taking up position dead and centre. "She's a 1967–"

"A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, with six-cylinder V8 engine and enhanced Coke bottle styling," the waitress finished, shifting nervously under the incredulous gaze the blunette was now gawking her way.

Across the table, Ichigo could only sigh. His lover was probably getting a hard on right about now. "Close your damn mouth, Grimm. You look like you're about to start drooling…"

"So, ya like cars…" Grimmjow continued like he hadn't heard the younger male, peering at the pin-badge on the young woman's blouse. "Aimee, is it?"

The blonde, Aimee, inclined her head, a small dusting of pink blushing her cheeks at the deep baritone that sounded her name out like it was made of honey. "My dad's a real grease monkey, y'know? Whilst all the other girls my age were playing with dolls and crimping their hair, I was always elbow deep in motor oil and camshafts." Aimee blushed harder, inwardly berating herself for unconsciously uttering the word 'shaft' in front of the sexy, blue haired man. Coughing to cover her own awkwardness, she hastily added, "Of course, vintage engines are the only ones worth looking at these days."

Grimmjow shook his head in awe of the girl. Seriously, if he wasn't so hopelessly attracted to dick, not to mention already madly in love, then she'd surely be Mrs. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques before the day was out. Smirking, he pillowed his chin on his fist, giving the girl an appreciative once over. Long legs barely covered by a mid-thigh denim skirt, trim waist with a sliver of midriff on display thanks to the obviously too short, sleeveless black shirt she wore. Two buttons left strategically unfastened showed off a moderate bust covered in lightly freckled, tanned skin, the girl paying the price of such a slim body with an average chest. However, with the way the small globes were pushed together to become the focal point, Grimmjow highly suspected a push-up bra to be at work. Probably helped a lot with the tips.

Silently fuming at where the blunette's gaze had blatantly settled, Ichigo kicked Grimmjow hard under the table, earning him a muted growl. Ichigo glared at the bastard, silently communicating his palpable displeasure at the lewd ogling, to which Grimmjow merely gave a sly smirk before turning his attention back to the cutely blushing Aimee.

"I can see that ya clearly appreciate beauty when ya see it," Grimmjow all but purred at the blonde, his grin broadening when she bit her lip and timidly shrugged her shoulders. "I gotta confess, I have much the same talent," he pressed on, giving her figure a pointed look. "We should get together some time, y'know, discuss attractive bodies an' what not. Cars, of course…"

Aimee gave an animated nod, biting back a squeal of delighted approval, whereas Ichigo's ochre orbs were gleaming a furious gold. "Grimmjow…" he warned, his voice a low rumble as his fingers curled even tighter around his glass.

Figuring he'd pushed his fiery lover quite far enough, Grimmjow snatched up a napkin from the dispenser in the middle of the table, and, sloppily scrawling a number across it in black ballpoint, pressed it into Aimee's eagerly outstretched palm.

Giving the blonde a saucy wink, he let his hand linger within her own just a tad, before retracting it back again. "Gimme a call, cutie."

Completely oblivious to the seething orange haired male currently envisioning her untimely, gory demise, Aimee smiled, slipping the napkin into the pocket of her apron. "Th-Thanks. I will!"

Grimmjow watched as she skipped off to the back, disappearing into the "Employee Only" section to call up her friends no doubt, before swivelling back into the proper position in his seat. His aquamarine pools zeroed in on clearly livid honey-ochre, taking note of a clenched jaw and flared nostrils. Now, he knows that Ichigo is trying to intimidate him, to make him fear retaliation for his flirtatious display or some shit, but honestly? All that irate look darkening his handsome, peachy features did was turn him the fuck on.

Smirking to himself for rather successfully ticking off his delicious Berry, Grimmjow picked up his mug and took a long, smug sip of his coffee. However, the haughty look soon disappeared alongside his first mouthful, his nose scrunching up in distaste.

"Fuck. Its gone cold," he grumbled, glaring at the blackish-brown liquid like it was conspiring against him.

Ichigo scoffed, folding his arms as he leaned back in his seat. "Well, that's what you get for chatting up staff instead of paying attention to what's important."

Grimmjow arched a brow. It was quite obvious that Ichigo wasn't referring to the now tepid beverage. "Aw, s'matter Ichi? Ya feelin' neglected over there?"

"Hardly," Ichigo answered, giving a derisive eye roll.

Grimmjow chuckled at the petulant answer, leaning over the centre of the table and the dozens of scattered newspapers that littered the wooden surface. "If yer feelin' unacknowledged, my lil' Berry, what say we ditch this joint an' find a more…secluded area, hm? I'll soon show ya how much I appreciate ya…"

Scowling, Ichigo ignored the excited twitch his cock gave in response to the sultry suggestion, and instead motioned to his glass of ice water with his head. "Please don't make me douse you today."

Knowing from firsthand experience – once involving a high-powered hose at a carwash when he'd 'accidentally' felt up the attendant – that Ichigo's words weren't just an idle threat, Grimmjow wisely chose to back off, settling back into his seat with a withering glare shot at his younger lover. Sometimes he couldn't help but worry about Ichigo's libido diminishing; before he'd died, usually all it took was a few well placed touches and a racy word or two, and his pretty Berry would be all over him, outright begging for harder and faster within a few scant minutes. Now it seemed that he had to work a lot harder to get those peachy thighs spread and wrapped around his waist.

He knew that Ichigo thought him something of a simpleton, a brute who thought with his dick more often than his brain and obtained any answers he sought with a mean uppercut instead of words, but he really wasn't as naïve as he was letting on. He knew that all the dots were connected somehow; Ichigo's reluctance to tell him how he sprung him so effortlessly from Hades, his uncharacteristic, overly nervous disposition some days, his mannerisms in the bedroom…they were all pointing to the same, frightening conclusion, but fuck if Grimmjow could figure out what the hell it was. As each new week came and went, Ichigo seemed to be getting worse, and it was scaring Grimmjow in ways he hadn't experienced since he was a little boy. Whatever it was, it was coming, and soon. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. It was almost as if there was a dark, ominous cloud hanging over their heads, the weight of the sinister aura pressing down hard on their shoulders – and there wasn't a damn thing Grimmjow could do to stop it. He was fucking useless against it because of his infuriatingly tight-lipped lover, and he hated that, hated going into a fight blind just because someone was being a stubborn asshole and undoubtedly trying to 'protect' him from something…

But what, goddamn it!

"Grimm…? Oi! Grimmjow!"

Grimmjow snapped his head up at the sound of Ichigo's voice, pulling his fingers from his mouth when he realised he'd been unconsciously biting at his nails. Ichigo frowned at the blunette.

"Shit, you really zoned out there for a second," Ichigo said, a small hint of concern lacing his words. He felt his heart clench uncomfortably as he gazed into troubled cerulean eyes, his hand automatically reaching out across the table to his partner. "What is it, Grimm? Is everything okay?"

Grimmjow drew in a long breath, releasing it slowly through his nose as he made a point of refusing his lover's attempt at comfort. "Shouldn't I be askin' you that?" he retorted, causing Ichigo's frown to etch deeper across his brow and retreat back to his own side. How many times had they had this conversation now? Ichigo was willing to bet it had hit three digits quite a few months ago.

"Don't start this again, Grimm," Ichigo sighed wearily, his ochre eyes pleading.

But Grimmjow couldn't. Once the tap was open, the words came flying out relentlessly until he was run dry. He'd always been like that. "I just don't get it," he started, Ichigo dropping his head into his hand as soon as the words left his mouth. "I don't get you anymore."

Ichigo lifted his head at that. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, take right now fer example. I was throwin' some of my best moves at that waitress chick, an' I barely got a peep outta ya!"

Ichigo deadpanned, not getting what the big deal was. "Yeah, so?"

"So?" Grimmjow growled, feeling his impromptu anger fluctuating quite violently. "Ya used to get so riled up when I did shit like that! Ya used to tell them that I was unavailable, or married, or even that I was gay. But now, nada. The fuck's the matter with you? D'ya just not give a shit anymore, that it?"

"Don't be so fucking ridiculous," Ichigo replied, his tone heavy with venom at the implication that he didn't care. "I keep telling you that nothing's wrong. Seriously, Grimmjow, I'm fine. Maybe I'm just too used to your shenanigans to actually pay attention anymore. Ever think of that?"

"Pfft. The only reason I even bother hittin' on skanks is because it pisses ya off. If ya don't start blushin' or cursin', then there's really no point." Grimmjow took another deep breath, trying to soothe his rattled nerves. He needed a fucking cigarette, and he needed it yesterday. Crossing his arms on the table, he leaned forward, staring down his younger lover. "Are ya sure you're okay? I know ya think I'm an idiot an' all, but you can always talk to me about the important stuff. Ya know that, right?"

Ichigo rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I said I'm fine, didn't I? Can we please just drop it already? I really don't feel like arguing in public today."

Feeling a harsh sting at the obvious rebuke, Grimmjow sneered. "Tch. Whatever." Snatching up one of the papers he'd been perusing when they'd first arrived at the small diner, he threw it across the table to his lover. "Three guys inexplicably vanished whilst out on a campin' trip in the woods. Police found traces of blood and shredded clothing, but no sign of the bodies. They said it looked like they'd been dragged through the bushes by a 'wild animal'."

Ichigo skimmed over the article, taking in the pictures of the three young men that had gone missing with a troubled glower. "Wendigo?"

Grimmjow shrugged, scratching at his lightly stubbled chin. "Sounds like it. I mean, it's a secluded place, dark, overgrown, an' littered with lots'a opportune hidey-holes to stash still breathin' bodies. Just about perfect fer snatchin' up young, tasty treats who don't know any better."

Ichigo hummed his concurrence, tossing the paper back on the table as Grimmjow began into the specifics of their newest assignment; what weapons they should load up on, how long it was going to take to get to Minnesota from their current location in Colorado, where they could stop over for the night, etc etc. To be perfectly honest, Ichigo had stopped listening a good thirty seconds ago, lost instead in his own inner turmoil.

Seventeen days, that's all he had left. Just over two weeks to walk as a free man on the face of the Earth. A cold, tremulous shiver racked his body at the notion. Fuck, his time was running out at a frankly dizzying pace now, and it was all he could do to smack a smile on his face and just enjoy his limited time up here on the surface. He wasn't going to lie, not even to himself – he was fucking terrified. Terrified of what was going to happen to him down there, of what that sadistic fucker of a demon was going to do to him, and, probably worst of all, how Grimmjow was going to react when the time for payment finally arrived.

The thought of having to leave his blue haired lover behind for good made him sick to the very pit of his stomach, was the cause of many a sleepless night and made him itch to spend every waking second clung to the blunette like he was a second skin. He would miss every little thing about Grimmjow. All the good stuff, like his seemingly insatiable lust for Ichigo's body and love, his gorgeously expressive aquamarine eyes, his almost manic laugh when really excited about something, the way he would pet his strong fingers through his vibrant orange locks when they lay curled around one another in the glorious afterglow of lovemaking. He would even miss the not so good stuff, like his overly possessive nature that drove him to 'claim' Ichigo when he thought someone else was staring a little too avidly, the way he hustled strangers in pool games for money and nearly always ended up in a brawl because he just couldn't hold that contemptuous tongue of his when challenged, even the god awful habit of his post-sex cigarette that he claims is to stop himself from jumping the younger male immediately after orgasm.

Christ, everything about the man, both positive and negative, was just so positively addictive it was hard not to love him. He'd unknowingly been a goner from the very beginning. Not that he laments the fact or anything…

A sharp smack to the side of his head had Ichigo rethinking that last thought somewhat.

"What the fuck, Grimm!" he grinds out, rubbing at the abused spot whilst glaring heatedly at the blunette.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Oh quit yer whinin', Berry, I barely even tapped ya. 'Sides, ya keep spacin' out an' actin' all weird. The fuck's the matter with you? And don't say 'it's nothing', because clearly it's somethin'. Now spill it."

"Let's go to Vegas," Ichigo suddenly blurted out, the words formulating and issuing forth before he even realised he'd been thinking about it.

Unsurprisingly, Grimmjow blinked in confusion. "…What? Look, if yer just tryin' to change the subject, then it isn't gonna–"

"I'm not trying anything," Ichigo quickly interrupted, simply running with the unexpected idea now that it was out there. Sighing, he gave his lover a tired look, absentmindedly trailing his finger up and down the length of his glass. "I just want to take a break for a while, y'know? Kick back and relax somewhere fun. I mean, I'm finally the legal age to go now, and it's always been a dream of mine to visit the infamous 'Sin City' before I die."

Grimmjow's bewilderment only grew more prominent. "Before you die? Ichigo, you're twenty-one for fucks sake, it's not like yer gonna pop your clogs tomorrow or anythin'. We've got plenty of time to go."

"I suppose you're right," Ichigo admitted with a small shrug, relaxing back into a position of feigned nonchalance. "I just thought you of all people would jump at the chance to drink, party and gamble all night…"

Completely ignorant to his peachy lover's devious little tactic of reverse psychology, Grimmjow fell hook, line, and sinker.

"It's not that I don't want to go, Ichi, it's just that I don't get what the big rush is. I mean, we have a potential case just two states over, an' usually yer all over that shit, protecting people like yer some sort'a fuckin' human rights activist. I guess I'm just curious about the sudden change a'heart?"

"I'm just…bored, Grimm," Ichigo replied with a heavy exhale. "I want to enjoy myself for a few days without having to worry about some filthy, bloodthirsty demon or ugly ass ghoul hell bent on revenge possibly ganking our sorry hides." Reaching across the small table, Ichigo seized his lover's hand in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. "Is it really too much to ask to go out and see the world without it involving staking some mythical creature through the heart? We've been hunting monsters for most of our damn lives, and all without a word of thanks or any recognition for constantly putting our asses on the line. Don't we deserve a goddamn vacation? A little 'us' time?"

With a sharp toothed grin, Grimmjow pulled Ichigo's hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips over the younger male's knuckles. "Vegas is a good seven hundred miles from here. If we leave now, we'll only need to make one stopover before we hit the strip."

Returning the others zealous grin, Ichigo nodded, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in much too long. "What're we waiting for, then?"

With yet another exhausting work day finally over, one Renji Abarai, a tall man with long, ruby red hair, a torso full of tribal tattoos and fiery russet eyes set in rugged features, arrived home to his ideological two storey abode, complete with spacious front and back yard, and a white picket fence.

Loosening his tie, he stepped in through his front door, taking in the homey feel and sumptuous aroma of dinner being prepared with a contented smile on his face.

"Rukia, love, I'm home," he called out as he shrugged out of his grey overcoat and hung it up on the rack by the door.

His smile stretched wider as he heard the distinct shuffle of his wife's slippers on their wooden floor approaching. Heh, make that distinct waddle. He wouldn't ever say such a thing out loud, for fear of losing a testicle, but being eight months pregnant had given his little lady a very apparent duck-like gait, where she didn't so much walk as she did…totter. He himself found it very endearing, but Rukia not so much. She was a strong and proud woman, and being forced to appear weak and defenceless just didn't sit well with the diminutive woman, even if there was a very justifiable reason for such a thing.

"Ah, there she is, my little Ice Queen," Renji simpered when she appeared in the hall from the direction of the kitchen. Her shoulder length, raven hair had been swept up into a ponytail, highlighting more than usual her big, shining violet eyes. She wore a pair of loose red sweatpants and one of Renji's old shirts, which, even given its enormous size on her petite stature, still strained slightly around her vastly swollen midsection. Renji's heart soared at the sight. "How are my two princesses this evening?"

The redhead soon got his answer…in the form of an incoming projectile. Cursing, he just about managed to dodge the frighteningly accurate throw, sidestepping just in time for the china mug to smash into the door behind him. Shocked, Renji turned wide, panic stricken eyes on his wife.

"The hell, Rukia? Ya damn near took my shoulder out with that!"

"And it would serve you right, ya pig!" was the icy retort, the small raven head storming up to her dim-witted husband. "Where were you today, huh? Answer me, dammit!"

Bewildered, the redhead backed up a step, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture. "I was at work! Where the hell else would I be?"

"At work, you say?" fumed Rukia, standing up on her tip-toes to grab her husband's ear in a deadly pinch.

Renji squawked at the pain as he was effectively dragged into the living room, tripping awkwardly over his own feet as he was forced to bend over to accommodate his wife's tiny height. Coming to a stop at the cordless telephone sitting on an end table beside their leather recliner, Rukia finally released the redhead, her violet eyes constricted to slits as she pointed to the contraption.

"If you were at work all day, like you claim, then how do you explain this…?"

Pressing the play button on the inbuilt answering machine, Rukia crossed her arms on top of her bulging stomach, leaving Renji to frown as a woman's voice, quite young by the sounds of it, filtered out into the otherwise quiet room.

"Um, h-hi…I don't know if you'll remember talking to me or not, but it's Aimee…we met in the diner where I work today? Uh, anyways…I was really hoping to take you up on your offer, y'know, to talk about, um, beautiful cars or whatever…I'm free tomorrow night, if you're still interested? If you are, please, gimme a call. My number is–"

Slapping the stupid thing off before she ended up bludgeoning her dickhead husband to death with it, Rukia rested her fists on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for Renji to explain himself.

Meanwhile, Renji was struggling to comprehend just what in the hell was going on. He had never heard that woman's voice in his life before, didn't know anyone by the name of Aimee, and sure as shit wasn't in any diner today! Glancing down at his furious other half, he swallowed thickly at the death-glare he was receiving.

"Well…?" Rukia prompted when the redhead started gaping like a fish out of water.

"Sweetheart, listen," Renji began, his palms becoming uncomfortably clammy. "I don't know what the fuck is goin' on, but I swear I don't know any 'Aimee'! Ya gotta believe me! I was at work all day, even had lunch in the cafeteria…just ask the boys, they'll tell ya! I didn't go to a diner, and I definitely didn't chat-up any waitresses!"

Rukia's stern glower faltered slightly at the sincerity in the other's tone, but her jaw remained clenched. "Then what was that all about? Don't you think it's a little strange that some cheap tramp decided to call our number, hmm?"

"Wrong number maybe?" Renji tried with a shrug. "That's the only viable explanation I can think of. Well, that, and when I was younger, me and a friend of mine used to pick up really ugly chicks in bars, and then give them the other's number so that they'd…"

Renji trailed off midsentence, his eyes narrowing dangerously as images of a certain smug, blue haired bastard flooded his brain. Rukia perked up a slender brow as his fingers curled into fists and he chuckled darkly.

"Grimmjow," he muttered, a sly smirk tilting his lips at the childish antics of his old friend. It would seem that he never did grow up. "I'm going to kill that fucker when I see him…"

Ichigo let out a tired breath as he flopped face first onto his rented bed for the night, his duffle bag of clothes abandoned at the foot along with his shoes and his light jacket strewn out on the floor somewhere to his left. It was around six in the evening and, after nearly nine hours of continuous driving, roughly six done by the blunette and the remaining by himself, he was ready to just pass out for a while before they headed out again in the morning. They found themselves in yet another quaint off-road motel in Utah, right beside the outskirts of Nevada. Ichigo had been sorely tempted just to push it, to pull an all-nighter and gun it to Las Vegas without having to stop, but wouldn't dare risking even a scratch on Grimmjow's 'baby' if he should fall asleep at the wheel. And so, here they were.

He was soon joined by the blunette, the older man tossing his own army style duffle bag into the far corner of the room as he cradled his mobile to his ear and kicked his boots off. Idly wondering who he was talking to, Ichigo mentally shrugged, figuring if it was important Grimmjow would soon let him know anyway. Letting his eyes droop to a close, Ichigo snuggled down in the clean sheets and let his mind begin to drift.

A sharp bark of raucous laughter soon had his eyes snapping open again, and he propped himself up on his elbows to scowl at his loud ass lover. "Christ, Grimm…can't you keep it down for even a second? I'm fucking knackered over here."

"The hell've you to be so 'knackered' about?" Grimmjow snorted, sitting down on the edge of Ichigo's bed. "I did most of the drivin', so I should be the one bitchin' about bein' tired, don't'cha think?"

Ichigo groaned exasperatedly, grabbing a pillow to shove in his lover's face. "Then go lie down and go to sleep!"

"Naw, m'not tired." Ichigo could only roll his eyes. Trust Grimmjow to complain about something that wasn't even applicable to him. "Yo, Berry, listen to this. Shit's fuckin' hilarious."

Putting his mobile on loudspeaker, Grimmjow pressed play on his most recent message, barely able to contain his mirthful chuckles as a certain, irate redhead sounded out through the tiny speakers.

"Grimmjow, you fuckin' wanker! I know it was you who gave that girl my number today – only you could be that damn stupid! Seriously man, you do remember I have a wife now, right? Rukia damn near had my balls for that lil' stunt, jackass! Please, for the love of god, do not give any more strange women my number! I don't care how hot they are, we're not teenagers anymore!"

"What was that about them being 'hot'?"

"Shit…I gotta go. I owe ya big time for this, Blue. Remember that!"

By the end of the message, Grimmjow was cracking up, laughing like a hyena standing on its last legs. In spite of himself, Ichigo could feel his own set of amused chuckles bubbling up in his chest. Poor Renji. His lover may be living in the body of a twenty-five year old, but his mind was little more than ten years old. He wondered if it would stay that way, after he…well. He guessed he wouldn't ever know, but he sincerely hoped that Grimmjow would keep that immature, almost childlike quality about himself. Perhaps it would better help him to move on when he was…no longer around.

Groaning lowly to himself, Ichigo once again buried his face in the mattress, trying desperately to keep the cold, dark feeling of his imminent demise hidden from the blunette. Fisting his hands in the cheap, flower patterned sheets, he shivered. It was like he could feel him standing there, those molten orbs boring into his very soul as that sinister smirk ripped across pale lips. The ghostly feeling of cold fingertips caressing his skin gave rise to goosebumps on his arms and Ichigo screwed his eyes shut, hopelessly trying to block the sinful phantom touch from his mind.

God, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to die…

Ochre eyes slowly fluttered open when the cold was suddenly chased away, when the deathly caress was replaced with warm, very much living flesh. Craning his neck to peer over shoulder, Ichigo found Grimmjow still sat on the edge of his bed, only now he had his hand dipped under his powder blue polo shirt, strong fingers gently running over the small of his back. Ichigo arched a brow.

"What're you doing, Grimm?"

"Wassit look like, dumbass?" Grimmjow replied sarcastically, shifting into a more comfortable position to carry out his task. At least, that's what he told himself as he swung a leg over his Berry, straddling the younger male's thighs as he pressed both of his large, callused palms flat against his peachy skin. "Ya seem stressed. Well, more so than usual, anyways. So I thought, bein' the awesome boyfriend that I am, I'd help ya relax."

Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, right."

"What?" Grimmjow frowned, hiking Ichigo's t-shirt up slightly as he followed the curve of his spine.

"Oh, please. You've never been able to get through a whole massage without molesting me midway into it."

Grimmjow smirked, raking his blunt nails down the younger's back. "S'matter, Berry? Don't'cha trust me?"

"No," was Ichigo's immediate response, though he folded his arms under his head anyway.

Grimmjow merely rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just shut up an' enjoy it already."

Ichigo smiled, bowing his back when prompted so that the blunette could bunch his polo shirt up around his shoulders, giving him maximum access to the soft skin of his back.

Less than five minutes in, and Ichigo was positively purring his approval, his brows smoothed out in pure contentment as Grimmjow's fingers sought out and expertly unfurled all of the tension riddled knots hidden within his now quivering muscles.

Grimmjow, on the other hand, was severely struggling to stay his course. His pretty lover was torturing him with those breathy little sounds spilling so freely from parted lips, every pleasant shudder he made vibrating straight through Grimmjow's legs and into his already impatiently twitching dick. Fucker was probably doing it on bloody purpose, just to prove a point. Bastard.

A particularly heady moan, coupled with an appreciative wiggle of slim hips when he rubbed his thumbs in small circles over the dip in his spine, had Grimmjow's self-control snapping quicker than a fucking twig.

Rumbling low in his chest, Grimmjow ran his hands firmly from the small of Ichigo's back right up to shoulder blades, fluently following the movement with his body until he had his lips pressed in a hot, open mouthed kiss between his hands. From there he started a slow descent, dragging wet kisses and soft nips down the curvature of his lover's spine whilst his nails grazed down a narrow ribcage. He felt Ichigo shiver underneath him.

"See? I fucking told you."

"Shut up," Grimmjow husked, reprimanding his Berry with a sharp bite to his side. "It's yer own damn fault for moanin' an' groanin' like a bitch in fuckin' heat." Rocking his own hips against his lover's, Grimmjow gave a feral grin at the beautiful little gasp the action elicited. "See that? You've created quite the problem here, Ichi, an' hell if y'ain't gonna fix it."

Ichigo didn't have time enough for a response before he was suddenly flipped over onto his back, his polo shirt yanked off over his head and thrown over the blunette's shoulder before hot lips were on him once more. Grimmjow started low, laving a trail from the very hem of his purple skinnies up to circle his tongue around his navel. Ichigo moaned out when the skilful muscle dipped briefly into the small crevice, before lapping over it and continuing upwards, tracing every hard line and supple curve until warm lips enclosed over his left nipple.

His toes curling in pleasure, Ichigo reached down to delve his slender fingers through silky, electric teal locks, fisting in encouragement as sharp teeth grazed over the sensitive nub. Grimmjow growled at the rough treatment, clamping down around the peaked tissue and revelling in the small hiss the younger pushed past clenched teeth.

Already at his wits end, Ichigo tugged harshly at the blunette's hair, wrenching him off of his chest so that he could crush their mouths together in a needy, heated kiss. Pulling impatiently at the hem of Grimmjow's shirt, the blunette eventually took the hint and broke the contact, allowing Ichigo to hastily pull it off. Before the abandoned material could even hit the floor they were fused together once more, both men groaning into the other's mouth as hot flesh met hot flesh.

Grimmjow could feel his cock throbbing almost painfully as Ichigo forced his tongue past his lips, damn near choking him with apparent urgency until he brought his own up to dominate and push him back again. And it didn't stop there. Ichigo was a fucking animal; biting down boldly on his lips before soothing over them with his tongue, scoring his fingernails down his brawny back hard enough to leave red track marks, grinding his hips up roughly into his own so that Grimmjow couldn't remember which way was up.

He had no idea what had gotten into his delicious little Berry, but fuck if it wasn't fantastic.

Breaking the kiss, Grimmjow gazed down into hooded chocolate orbs, his heart thrumming wildly at the sight of flushed cheeks, parted lips and a chest rising and falling with erratic breaths. He wondered if Ichigo knew just how fucking delectable he looked right now.

Never big on restraint, Grimmjow growled deep in his chest as he stripped his lover of those infuriatingly tight skinny jeans, his white cotton socks and black Lonsdale boxer shorts soon to follow. Ichigo let a long, wanton moan pour from his kiss bruised lips as the blunette laved his tongue agonisingly languidly up the length his inner thigh, the approving sound soon turning into a sharp inhale of breath as lips and teeth adhered down and the blunette started to suckle harshly.

Once he felt certain he'd left a sizeable mark, Grimmjow released the abused skin, tenderly soothing his tongue over the dark purple bruise. Drawing back, he could only blink in surprise when slender fingers gripped around his biceps, hauling him flush against peachy skin before he was suddenly rolled over onto his back. His lust darkened cerulean orbs watched in muted anticipation as Ichigo popped the button on his jeans, peeling them down his muscular thighs.

"Christ, yer impatient tonight," he commented, his voice gravelly with need as he lifted his hips to help his eager orange haired lover out as he virtually ripped his white Calvin Klein boxers off.

Ichigo hummed, licking his lips at the sight of the blunette's dripping arousal. "I'm not interested in foreplay right now. I just want the main course."

Grimmjow could barely contain his guttural snarl of pure desire when Ichigo sucked three of his own fingers into his mouth, his eyes following every erotic lick and naughty, lewd sounding suckle. "Yer such a kinky little bitch, ya know that?"

Ichigo smirked as he pulled his fingers out, dipping to press a playful kiss to the tip of the blunette's straining erection. His grin tugged even wider when Grimmjow groaned and threw his head back into the pillows. "Yeah, I know."

Licking a wet trail from base to tip, just to be cruel, Ichigo then wrapped his lips around the head of the blunette's cock, flattening his tongue over the slit to gather the beads of precome at the same time as he pressed two of his fingers into the tight heat of his entrance.

Grimmjow couldn't help but buck his hips up into the inviting warmth of his Berry's mouth when he suddenly moaned around him. With great effort he cracked his eyes open, only to witness one of the most sinfully sexy sights he would undoubtedly ever encounter in his life. He gazed, absolutely transfixed, as petal soft, pink lips descended down his rock hard length, his cock disappearing into that moist cavern only to reappear moments later, glistening with his lover's saliva as that head of orange tresses bobbed up and down over him. His cerulean pools then drifted off to the left, where he could see the younger male's arm reached around behind himself, fingering that tight hole that he was fucking itching to be sheathed balls deep inside.

Ichigo was struggling to remain focused, what with the musky taste of the blunette's essence sitting heavy on his tongue, and his own fingers stroking lashings of dizzying pleasure throughout his veins. He could feel Grimmjow's fingernails scratching over his scalp, fisting every once in while when Ichigo gave a keenly hard suck or used a gentle scrape of teeth to heighten his obvious bliss. It wasn't long before he managed to bury his nose in crisp, dark blue curls, swallowing around his frankly monstrous mouthful as he probed his digits further inside himself. And then, rather predictably, Grimmjow's control shattered.

"F-Fuck, Ichi…stop." Ichigo whined in displeasure when he was pulled away from his treat, reluctantly removing his fingers from his stretched pucker as Grimmjow chuckled. "Ne, don't pout Berry. We're gettin' to that main course ya wanted so bad."

Sitting up, Grimmjow hauled Ichigo into his lap, the younger male straddling his hips. With one hand curled around his cock, and the other holding Ichigo's hip to guide him, he wasted no time in carefully lowering his lover onto his waiting arousal.

"Mmmghn, shit," Ichigo moaned as he was breached, throwing his arms around the blunette's neck and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Grimmjow growled out his approval when Ichigo suddenly dropped his hips, taking him in to the hilt in one fell swoop, surrounding his cock in velvety, wet heat. Wrapping his arms in a tight embrace around his lover's waist, Grimmjow pressed soft, loving kisses along the length of his left shoulder, giving Ichigo time enough to adjust to the powerful intrusion.

Ichigo sighed pleasantly, tangling his fingers in Grimmjow's blue locks to angle his head up so that he could lay claim to them in the form of a soul searing kiss. Grimmjow grinned, swiping his tongue over his Berry's lips, coaxing his own out to play as he ran his large hands up and down Ichigo's sweat slicked back.

Ichigo rolled his hips experimentally, chuckling against Grimmjow's lips when the blunette rumbled a warning. Ichigo knew that he was more than eager to begin, and, feeling overly keen himself, he rolled his hips again, really grinding down on the older male's pelvis.

"That'd better be your way of tellin' me to start poundin', Berry," Grimmjow all but snarled, nosing his way down a sinewy neck to bite down harshly on a thumping pulse point.

Ichigo moaned, tilting his head to the side to encourage more of the violent treatment. Instead of answering in words, he used his hands on Grimmjow's broad shoulders to lever himself up, before dropping back down, hard. Taking that as a clear "I'm ready", Grimmjow put his right hand out behind himself for support and bent his knees up slightly so that his feet were planted firmly on the mattress. Gripping Ichigo's hip with his free hand, he encouraged the younger to rise again, only this time he met him halfway, thrusting up with a brutal snap of his hips during Ichigo's descent.

Ichigo cried out in pleasure, digging his nails into the blunette's shoulders as they quickly set a fast and furious pace. Grimmjow could only watch, rapt with an all consuming lust, as Ichigo's head snapped back, his brow furrowed in blissful gratification as he rammed himself hard and deep into that beckoning heat. Every breathy gasp and purring moan was sending shockwaves of vivacious electricity down to his very core, making his dick pulse in the best kind of way.

Thought nothing quite compared to the damn near scream he ripped from his young lover's lungs when he finally nailed his prostate.

"Hah, yes! Fuck! Th-That's it, Grimm…right fucking there!"

Now that sound was downright orgasmic.

"Mmm, whatever ya want, Ichigo…"

Not one to ever disappoint his pretty lover, Grimmjow quickly adjusted his angle to ensure he struck Ichigo's pleasure button with every single buck and snap. He could feel sweat gathering on his brow and rolling down his back as that velvety channel began to twitch excitedly around his engorged length, could feel his balls tightening and the blistering coil in his abdomen winding ever tighter.

Ichigo could sense the change in the blunette, could feel his powerful strokes getting sloppy and the biting grip on his hip becoming desperate. Knowing he was hurtling toward the delirious pinnacle himself, he sank his fingers into sweat dampened teal tresses and sealed their lips together in a frantic, messy kiss that was more teeth than tongue.

When his young lover suddenly drew back, lapping his tongue over his top lip in a sensual lick before murmuring a soft and breathless, "I love you, Grimmjow", the blunette completely lost it. The searing bunching in his stomach swiftly unfurled and he came hard with a husky growl, his whole body tensing up as he filled his Berry's spasming canal with his hot seed.

Grimmjow's climax in turn was Ichigo's undoing, the familiar sensation of the blunette's sticky essence flooding into him tipping him over the edge and drowning him in his own elated state of absolute delirium. He came with a cry of his blue haired lover's name, covering both of their midriffs with his own milky fluids as his lungs cried out for oxygen and his limbs quivered.

Sweaty and panting, Grimmjow curled his arms around Ichigo's back, laying tender kisses up the column of his neck as Ichigo gingerly lifted himself off of his now flaccid cock, before collapsing back, taking an unresisting Ichigo down with him.

"That was fuckin' amazing," he sighed contentedly, gently tracing his fingertips up and down the younger's spine as he kissed a sweaty temple. "Oh, an' I love ya too, just by the way."

Mumbling something under his breath, Ichigo rolled off from atop of his lover, stretching out his weary limbs like a lazy cat and grimacing slightly at the moist feeling of his own cum decorating his heated skin. Grimmjow rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on his forearm as he leaned down to steal a chaste kiss from his thoroughly sated Berry. When he drew back however, he couldn't help but frown.

"I really hate that tattoo," he commented, scowling at the bold, gothic zero marring otherwise delicious, peach hued skin.

Ichigo groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I know you do. Shit. Please, can we just not talk about it?"

Grimmjow curled his lip, reaching out to trace his fingers over the permanent ink. "Yer not 'nothing', y'know," he said quietly, remembering the words of explanation Ichigo had given him when he'd first noticed it. "Whether I'm around or not, you'll never be a nothing."

Ichigo swallowed thickly when a menacing, heavy aura suddenly settled around him. The more Grimmjow persisted on touching the damn mark, the more it crushed down on him, constricting his lungs as an all too familiar scent filled his nostrils. Slapping Grimmjow's hand away from the accursed thing, Ichigo glowered up into stunning aquamarine pools.

"Look, it was a stupid and…desperate decision I made in the spur-of-the-moment, okay? I regretted it almost the instant I got it. Can't we just leave it at that?"

Grimmjow really felt like arguing his case a little more, but when pained, pleading ochre orbs gazed up at him through thick black lashes, he quickly decided against it. Grumbling, he moved to the edge of the bed.

"Fine. Whatever ya want, Berry." Locating his boxers, he quickly threw them on before sliding back into his jeans. "I'ma go fer a smoke," he said, routing through his jacket pocket to procure his pack of Lambert and trusty Zippo. "Get yerself cleaned up an' go to sleep. We still got a lot'a road to cover tomorrow."

Ichigo merely nodded his consent as Grimmjow pulled his tan Timberland boots on and disappeared out the door, wincing when it was slammed angrily behind him. He remained silent for a few moments, waiting until he heard the heavy clump of the blunette's stride pace far enough away from the door before he dared to speak.

"You're here, aren't you?" he asked the seemingly empty room.

Waiting with a held breath, it didn't take long for him to receive his answer. Sinister tendrils of pure evil enveloped around him, cold and astringent, not unlike the hellspawn's very embrace.

"How very clever yah are, Pet," that haunting voice echoed close to his ear, making Ichigo shiver. "Yer gettin' awful good at sensin' mah presence, ne?"

A dip in the mattress beside him had Ichigo snapping his head in that direction, only to be met with beautifully hypnotic, gold-on-obsidian eyes.

"You were watching us." It wasn't a question.

Shirosaki chuckled darkly, petting alabaster fingers in feigned affection through luminous orange tresses. "Aye, tha's right. It was quite tha show. Tell me, Pet…" Varnished black fingertips wrapped around Ichigo's chin, drawing his face in close to his own. "Did'ja get all tha' pent up, violent energy from me, hm? Yah seem ta be satisfied, but was it…enough?"

Shirosaki demonstrated his point by dipping his head to his mortal's neck, where he grazed sharpened fangs over the entirely too palatable flesh. His human reeked to the high Heavens of that blue haired wildcat, but, in the grand scheme of things, it was of little consequence what the two got up to. Ichigo would be his property, and his alone, soon enough.

Fighting fiercely against the impulse to bare his throat for the demonic hellspawn, Ichigo reached deep within himself and found the strength to push him back. The animalistic snarl the milky skinned demon gave in response sent goosebumps racing across the entire length of his body.

"Just get out, Cero," Ichigo snapped, pulling further away from the other. He found it hard to think straight when he got too close, something he was certain Shirosaki used to his advantage.

Baring his teeth at the command, from a lowly human no less, Shirosaki reluctantly did as he was told, but not before getting a little compensation for his efforts. Shooting his hand out too fast for the mortal to follow with such primitive senses, he curled his hand around the nape of Ichigo's neck and yanked him forward, stealing a swift but bruising kiss from those tasty pink lips. Oh how he would love to devour his mortal pet right here and now.

Drawing back, Shirosaki smirked manically when he could taste the mortal's obvious lust on his discoloured tongue.

"Seventeen days, Pet," he purred, rising from the bed and straightening out his suit jacket. "An' then yah won't have tha power ta refuse me."

Ichigo glared at him before he found himself suddenly alone once again as the hellspawn dematerialised from the room, the flickering waves of sinister energy and a slight musk to the air the only indications he'd been there at all.

Ichigo clenched his eyes shut, curling up into the foetal position as Shirosaki's echoic voice rang out one final time.

"Tick, tock, Ichigo…"

It took several failed attempts, and a series of elaborate curses, before Ichigo eventually fell into a fitful slumber to the feeling of cold fingertips running softly through his hair.

A/N: Aa, so there we are, chapter two of something tha' I probably could'a just left as a OneShot. Oh well. I highly doubt any of ya'll will complain, ne? An' if yah do, well, tha's cool. Everybody's entitled to their own opinion, right? ^^

Christ, it is almost criminally fun ta write this fic. Supernatural is one'a my all-time favourite TV shows, an' putting Grimmjow in the role as Dean is jus' so wonderfully delicious it makes me feel rather dirty... Purr~ I can only cross mah fingers an' hope that am doin' both characters justice.

Anywho, hope tha' any an' all of yah that are reading this can enjoy it as much as I did when writin' it - though yah'll be hard pressed to accomplish such a thing, I can assure yah :3

Please do enjoy at yer own risk, mah sweets~

Ciao fer now

Toringtino~