Disclaimer: I do not own BLEACH or any of its characters, this story is merely my own interpretation, a work of fun and curiosity.

Warnings: Swearing, thoughts and implications of previous smut.

A/N: I feel so, so ashamed for abandoning this story for so long, and for letting my readers down. I think I'm feeling better and back in the game so hopefully, I'll get to the end of this story!

Story 11 - Strategy

Half naked, Gin sat on the edge of the bed, one elbow resting on his knee in a comfortable position. He stroked his fingertips across his smooth, thin mouth and looked inwards with his eyes closed. Distantly, like he was in a separate world, he felt Grimmjow turn in his sleep on the bed beside him, he smelled his drying sex still sticking to his stomach and he felt sweat cooling on his own bare back as he thought.

Minutes passed like this. When Grimmjow shifted again, into a quite impossible, feline pose, knocking into the small of Gin's back, the shinigami stood abruptly and began gathering the rest of his clothes. He slipped into them easily and smoothed his hair with a couple of easy strokes of his long, slim fingers.

He had fucked Grimmjow hard enough to make him scream and pass out. He did his best to bruise him in obvious places with lovebites a little too rough and mean and he had prompted him to yell 'no' and 'stop' a couple of times. If he played his part well, panther-san's displeased and confused scowls would be all worth it.

He stepped out of the small chamber and closed the door quietly behind himself. He hoped Grimmjow would be the lazy cat that he normally was and just snore into his pillow for the rest of the day… while he put his little scheme into motion.

Lazy and nonchalant almost, he walked off towards the halll control room where he liked to spend most of his time, poking into the system and constantly forcing Ulquiorra to run into Nnoitra and the like (yes, had made Grimmjow run into people a couple of times on purpose, too). It was stupid fun, but it was nevertheless that: fun. It wasn't his fault that Aizen-han made his kingdom so utterly boring otherwise.

As he sat in the rather less than comfortable chair, skimming his fingers across the control panels, he steered a certain corridor just the right way… and all of a sudden, he had a visitor. He turned his chair and pulled his face into a halfway adorable, halfway stupid-looking surprised expression. "Luppi-kun!"

Obviously disoriented for a moment, Luppi flicked his pink gaze around in the room before focusing it on Gin. Gin felt that the stare was evaluating and at the same time, confused and yes, lustful. Arrancars were definitely animalistic and their lust for a powerful partner was no less prominent than a wild beast's, it seemed. But the hot look was aimed at the wrong sort of person: Gin didn't even feel disgusted with it, all he experienced was the usual cold indifference.

"Ichimaru-sama~?" Luppi's honey voice cooed as the flimsy youth slid up closer to him and plopped down into another chair beside Gin's. "I was going to my room and lookit where I ended up~! That's funny~!"

"Oyaa…" Gin hummed in wonderment. He reached out and skimmed his fingertips across the control panel again in an obvious gesture. No one would come disturb them for a few minutes at least. And that was all he needed, really. "I wonder why?"

Luppi bit in his lower lip. Aiming to be seductive? Or misinterpreting Gin's mock playfulness for a flirt? Either way, Gin felt nothing at the sight he perceived through his lashes. "Mm~ Ichimaru-sama is so mean-"

"You have no idea how mean." Gin said, softly, like he was telling a secret to Luppi. A small spike of his reiatsu, he thrust it hot and vicious towards Luppi and he saw him press back into the backrest of the chair. "Which is why I steered you here; for your own good. Let's have a chat, shall we?"

He did not expect an answer. Clearly, Luppi was too shell shocked to say anything immediately, so Gin went on. "Were you proud to be appointed Sexta today? Did your sadistic instinct kick in when you were given your predecessor as a fracción? No need to say anything. These are merely rhetorical questions, I know your answer to them already."

Gin heard the other's pulse pick up, felt his reiatsu waver as fear bloomed from confusion. What would Aizen say? Just as planned? Not so much as planned though, but rather as he'd expected. And then the patented shaky denial, too, "I don't under-"

"You will in a moment. You see, I'm Aizen-sama's favourite… we've known each other so very, very long that he'll spoil me with playthings from time to time…" Gin chuckled bashfully, his teeth showing between his thin, cold lips. Abruptly, it stopped, and his voice was cool and cruel. His reiatsu was fluctuating, hot and cold, malicious, then furious, then simply echoing annoyance. Cutting then suffocating then milder again, but still like a deep fog of murderous intent around him. "...like your predecessor, that funny little feline thing. I found him not long ago, so I'm still very possessive of him, you understand? Ah, you'll hear him sometime anyways. Often, most likely, since your chambers are next to his own and I really wouldn't like to soil my own bed like that."

Luppi shook his head, crinkling his nose softly and it was clear that he still didn't quite figure out what Gin was getting at. He knew it in his marrows, but the hints did not form a conscious thought just yet. The ex-captain sighed and leaned his chin on his knuckles as he rested his elbow on the panel right beside him.

"Luppi-kun, Aizen-sama is merely teasing my patience with your presence, placing you in an authoritative position over my squeaky toy… He's trying to get me to kill because he finds it fun when I get…" He paused a beat, a tremble to his lips, a severeness to his painfully vague words. "...out of control." He let the phrase linger in the air between them like a guillotine's blade, let the fear crawl up Luppi's spine, let his mind give birth to scenarios, create the terror himself. Gin's lips twitched madly, his other hand, the one that rested comfortably in his lap, clenched and flinched open again in a strangling motion. Everything about him screamed utter madness. "It's just a game, really." His breathing hitched, like he was just waiting to be contradicted, provoked. Like he was a beast on chains, coaxing the oblivious to let him loose. Except he knew very well Luppi understood the showing of his teeth and the hot spikes in his reiatsu. Even if it wasn't conscious, like a wild animal fearing the hunter's horn, Luppi was aware that he was looking at a living timebomb. "But one that I'd really like to win. Yes? Hmm?"

"I…" Luppi whispered, jumping in his seat when Gin jerked towards him lightly as he allowed that first syllable to slip past his shivery mouth. He wiped sweat from his brows with his long sleeve. His breath stuttered out terrified. He was shaking all over, flicking his pink gaze towards the exit, but it seemed so far away. "I-I underst..stand…?" He sucked in air quickly and shied back from Gin's widening grin.

"Excellent…!" Gin gasped out, yet sounded discontent somehow, as though he truly was longing for nothing else than to kill and was only restraining himself in a moment of sanity for Luppi's own sake. "Ah… Aizen-sama is going to be a bit disappointed… but maybe, mm, maybe he'll get me a better, stronger playmate next time… don't you think so, Luppi-kun? I want a real…" He licked his lips and hushed out with depraved hunger lacing his voice. "...bite instead of a nibble… it's no fun unless we both bleed…"

Luppi nodded shakily and he was obviously on the verge of soiling his stark white hakama pants. Gin knew he felt cornered and that was just what he had wanted to achieve. He knew he injected the fear deep enough for it to wake Luppi in cold sweat at night. With that, the first stage of his plan was set, from here onwards he would just need to strengthen the rules in Luppi's mind. Soon, he wouldn't even dare to look at Gin, let alone speak in his presence. As Gin calculated, in a short while, even the sight of Grimmjow would trigger a reflexive spike of fear in the other arrancar and that was more than enough to keep him from messing with his panther-san.

Of course, he has said it himself that fear never kept an animal tame and he was no hypocrite. He knew eventually Luppi would feel too pressured to act rationally and keep to the regulations of the game. That would be fine too, because by the time that abrupt change in Luppi came, he would ingrain the reflexes in him so deep that he'd never even think to raise his hand on Grimmjow. Yes, as far as his strategy went, by the time Luppi lost his mind to the pressure of fear and the need to be relieved of it, his own rules would be deeper set than Aizen's. Luppi would turn on their leader before he even thought of taking his frustrations out on Gin.

Gin has learned this scheme of manipulation from Aizen himself but had added his own personal twist to it: as he has perceived thus far, people tended to fear the unknown, the unbridled more. Aizen always terrified others with his calculating, precise evil - Gin chose barely restrained madness to spice his act with and it brought better, crazier reactions from his victims. He had a number of past ministrations that he was reminded of suddenly. Fondly, he remembered a poor man (wasn't he a traitor?) with a weak mind who took his own life right on the spot. There was blood everywhere from his wound on his throat. Oh… it's been such a long time since he killed anyone with just words and he wondered a bit if he could still do it...

His lashes shivered and he closed his mouth over his teeth in a strict line. "...off you go." He whispered and Luppi scrambled from the chair with a quick whine in the back of his throat. Gin peered after him through barely open eyes and allowed the darkness rearing its head inside to gnaw at him a while.

When the arrancar was gone through the exit and his steps didn't echo down the hall any longer, Gin tilted his head back and closed his eyes fully. His senses still keen, he breathed deeply and dipped deeper into the chill of guilty pleasure like into a tub of bathwater. It was one of those moments when he doubted if his act was indeed an act. One of those moments when his own evil tasted too sweet on his tongue, when his imminent victory intoxicated him just a little and brought out perversions long denied.

Yes, he wanted Luppi to die.

Whether it be by his own hands or by someone else's, it hardly mattered. What he wanted was that Luppi felt pain when he died, felt the horror of disappearing, of being keenly aware for even just a moment that he was giving up his own singularity and returning to the great flow of souls where no one had a thought of their own. He wanted to know he tasted that fear and his soul trembled with a last flare of denial against it. He lusted that so deeply in that moment that his bones creaked. His marrows filled with the desire and his lungs expanded as he inhaled the scent of Luppi's coming death like one would take a breath of February's crisp air in hopes of a Spring soon arriving.

Then, as soon as he allowed the want to blossom into gruesome fantasies, the image warped into Rangiku's battered form and he was standing among the shinigami looming over her small figure and her eyes were wide open with blame and staring into the dark depths of him and gods, the guilt, the guilt rolled his stomach upside down so hard he gagged out loud.

His eyes clenched closed though wishing to snap open.

"That was a bad path you were taking."

He heard the words ring true in his head, always with an audible hiss to them. While his stomach calmed and his mind cleared, he rested his hand on the scabbard of Shinsou. He felt heat under his palm and fingertips, like the burn of Hell's fire. Shinsou was angry, and that was rare, but all the more serious. He knew he was steering towards a corner of his own personality that he had promised himself he would never explore willingly. He knew the wrongness of his thoughts, the depravity of his wants, and though he was brimming with guilt, he could not deny that indeed, those thoughts and wants were his own. They have always been there, possibly from before the beginning, he just did his best to always keep them suppressed. When they stubbornly resurfaced, he just had to push them away again.

Gin stood from the chair slowly, smoothed his robes and opted to retire to his room for a lengthy session of meditation. Him and Shinsou needed to talk - he needed the guilt trip to be set right once again.

When Grimmjow woke, he felt a pleasant ache in his backside, and a more unpleasant one in his throat. Gin had insisted upon him being even louder than he'd be naturally and he wondered if that had something to do with what he'd said about not allowing Luppi to soil what's-

Grimmjow nearly choked on thin air as the words occurred to him again so clearly, on Gin's smooth, predatory tone of voice.

Soil what's his?!

That was a fucking obnoxious thing to say, if he considered it, especially since he was not yet marked! For a moment, the competitive nature in him flared and he had ideas about showing Gin what was his… but the thoughts were dismissed quickly as he understood that to do that, he'd have to let others… ugh. No.

He got up, showered, got himself decent and lingered on and around the bed which smelled so thickly of sex, a scent arousing and comforting at the same time. So much so that he suddenly grabbed up a pillow and briefly smothered his face against it, groaning quietly.

Fucking bastard, that Gin. What's his!

Saying that when he knew how much Grimmjow wanted him to mark him…

He tossed the pillow aside and felt like blowing the entire fucking bed up with a huge-ass cero just to get rid of the unspeakably beckoning and utterly annoying scent. He restrained himself - barely - and instead plopped down onto the bed, throwing himself back on it with his trademark scowl marking his handsome face.

Gin had acted odd, his mind wandered back to that topic. He demanded things of him that made his ears burn with embarrassment - were exciting, yeah, but still WEIRD - and at the same time baffled him because he did not understand why they were necessary. Especially to yell for Gin to stop. It didn't bring any obvious pleasure to the other man so Grimmjow really hadn't understood back then why he was prompted to do it, but now as he thought about it, he had a hunch…

Gin wanted to protect him, right, because he was, at the moment, lacking a goddamn arm. Pretty screwed-up situation and Grimmjow hated it, but he had been injured before while in his Adjuchas form still… there was a time he had to hide and wait two months for a limb to heal up from a nasty break. He hadn't felt any better back then, but he had had deeper animal instincts and so the measures taken for survival had felt less shameful.

Not to mention what a dangerous situation he was in now: Aizen had practically placed him as a cheap target for mockery by appointing him as that Luppi bastard's fracción. He knew himself, knew his temper was too short and that Aizen was acutely aware of that as well. Aizen was a cruel leader, liked to watch his little pawns fight and die - he had known all along about the conflict between Nnoitra and Nelliel and still sent them on missions as a fucking pair! - and he knew that either Grimmjow lashed out and made an excuse for him to execute him; or he'd bend his firm back and be ruined in his very being.

To have someone like Gin, who knew the game better, knew how to counter Aizen's schemes and maybe even turn the tables, by his side, was a good thing, Grimmjow thought. It was better, he told himself, to be protected than to disappear and lose himself.

That settled, he went back to his forced pleas for the man to stop. He imagined, if it sounded like he was getting raped, no one would think of him as Gin's weakness. Fine. But what would stop them from seeing HIM as wea- well, true that Gin was stronger than every one of them (otherwise he would no longer be alive, really) and that was pretty much explanation enough why he could bend fierce himself to his will.

And, if he strung that thread of thought further, if those fuckers heard what Gin could do to someone in BED, they'd probably not want to pick beef with the man. Ergo, they'd want to steer clear of anything that even came into contact with him… namely, Grimmjow himself. Possibly, Gin was trying to ensure that no one ticked him off anymore.

That stuff would work with the more intelligent ones, like Barragan and maybe even Schiffer…

Hell, he still remembered the look on Schiffer's face when Gin shoved his fucking sword through his throat. That one wouldn't mess with Gin anytime soon, Grimmjow was sure.

As for someone as crazy and narrow-minded as Nnoitra, he did not think he'd get a hint like that. And though he wanted so bad to just kill the shitface and get rid of his ugly grin, Grimmjow knew he did not even have close enough strength to challenge him.

He needed to keep Nnoitra away from himself, but there was no reason for Nnoitra to stay away. Avoiding him didn't do anything good either, the bastard had a knack for seeking others out. And he liked running his smart (not, Grimmjow thought) mouth too, taunting and riling others up. With Grimmjow's temper and current situation, the outcome of meeting him more than twice a month would be unquestionable.

Unless something distracted Nnoitra.

Grimmjow sat up abruptly and dropped his elbow on his knee. That's right, Nnoitra had a single weak spot - not a large one and not easily exploitable - but it was clearly there: his anger towards Nelliel was deeper-rooted than for anyone else. If she was there to focus on, he would not care about anything else. He just needed to start a rumor about Nelliel being out there and Nnoitra would go berserk about wanting to find the woman.

A good idea, that one. He'd put it into motion… sometime later.

He looked at the door and wondered where Gin was and what he was up to. The answer to that would probably never come to him, so he dismissed the questions as easily as they came. He also wondered how he'd react if Luppi ever tried to give him an order. It was one thing to swallow it from Aizen - you just had to do it, like with the tea, to survive - but to swallow it from someone so obviously below him - if only he had his fucking arm! - that was shameful and the idea pissed him off like nothing else before.

But he had to heed Gin's words from the night before.

"Spread your legs wider…"

NO, NOT THOSE WORDS.

Irately, he shifted his hips and grunted a little. Stupid, alluring bastard.

The serious words. That he was a hunter and hunting often consisted of a long, long while of waiting. He needed to remember that and wait for the appropriate moment to strike down and get revenge. He would be granted it, he was certain. He was a King, after all.

Wait.

Did that make Gin his Queen?

"Th…" The snickering sound tumbled from his mouth before he could stop himself and a smirk spread on his face eventually. Oh, he would have to share that bit with Gin himself and see him scowl!

He paused in his delighted grinning for a moment as a thought occurred to him. He has not referred to himself as a King in a long, long while now because of Aizen's tyranny over him. He had not had the chance to truly feel like one - so why, if Gin was just as much a tyrant over him, did he think of himself as one all of a sudden?

The answer probably was that, because Gin wasn't. He may be dominant in bed, may be possessive of him and a creepy fucking jerk in general (so true too), but he was not, in any way, a tyrant in fact. Gin did not force him into this - on the contrary, he tried to stop it at first. He tried to push him away, deny it all and that thought, as much as it pissed Grimmjow off still, was in a way attractive if he thought about it deeper. Because Grimmjow knew that when Gin wanted to not even start their affair, he was thinking only of Grimmjow and what would be good for him. Even then, perhaps unconsciously, but Gin wanted to protect him… of a lot of things at once. Aizen, definitely, probably this crap of being picked on too, and most importantly, himself. Because as far as Grimmjow understood him (it was difficult), Gin perceived himself as someone who was only capable of hurting others.

Upon an impulse, Grimmjow really wanted to punch him in the mouth and yell at him that it wasn't true at all. Alas, Gin was nowhere near him at the moment so he could not fulfill his desire. Perhaps later, at an appropriate time if he caught him off-guard. Could be fun to watch Gin cradle his face and just stare at him, baffled out of his brilliant mind.

Grimmjow grinned again and glanced at the pillow he had sniffed a while ago.

And then he'd kiss him while he was busy staring like that and they'd fuck again, cause hell yeah, that was great.

Bringing his brooding to a merry conclusion, it was more than fine that Gin thought of him as his already. Because Grimmjow was certain that he'd get his mark sooner or later (sooner he hoped, but they did make a promise about it). He'd get it, like everything else that he wanted because he was a King.

And no, Gin wasn't his Queen, as much as the thought amused him. Gin was a King himself, if a different one. The King of his hea-

Ohstopit.

Swiftly, Grimmjow got up and exited his room to begin spreading a juicy little rumor about Nelliel von Odelschwanck still being alive and out there in Hueco Mundo.

TBC in next chapter