Firstly, I would like to wish Merry Grimmichi Christmas to everyone! Share the love with the whole world!

So, what I'd initially wanted to say is that "Mirrors" kinda left a bitter taste in my mouth, therefore this fiction was created. It is pretty much the same thing, but it is from Grimmjow's point of view and thus it has some major differences.

I hope you like my personal attempt to send some Grimmichi love to the world :P.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of the characters.

XXXX

Everything was so dull, so heavenly peaceful. His breathing was slow and steady, his heartbeat even and rhythmic, all the muscles of his body relaxed under the heavy spell of sleep.

But then, there was this noise. A constant ringing. Ring, ring, ring. Groggily, Grimmjow opened his azure eyes, cursing inwardly the insensible and unlucky motherfucker who disturbed his sleep. He didn't spare a second glance at the caller's ID, answering the call as soon as he found his cell. The sound made his ears buzz annoyingly.

"What?", he growled, his tone did nothing to hide his agitation.

"It's me," the caller's soft voice said and then after everything slowed down and became peaceful again. A big grin took the place of the previous fearsome scowl on Grimmjow's face.

Ah, Ichigo Kurosaki. Can't stay mad at you for more than three seconds, can I?

"How may I assist you?", Grimmjow drawled. At four fucking thirty in the morning, so to speak.

The man at the other end of the call chuckled sarcastically. "You, of all people, know what to do."

"Where?"

"Same place."

"When?"

"The soonest possible."

With that, the line was dead.

Grimmjow put the phone back on the bedside table and grinned at the ceiling. Ichigo Kurosaki; the tall, orange haired lawyer, with the lithe body and the sexy bed voice. How could someone on their right mind resist a request from this exotic creature? Especially a red-blooded male like Grimmjow.

Grimmjow had met the orange head two years ago at a party. Shinji Hirako, Grimmjow's best friend, had thrown a party for his birthday, inviting all kinds of people, including a bunch of friends from work.

Aka the lawyer's office Ichigo was working.

The chemistry between them was undeniable, desire building up even from their very first glance. The moment their eyes locked, Grimmjow knew that later that night, he would be having the greatest sex of his life.

Oh, how right he was...

It was raw, powerful, their bodies coming together urgently, sensually, Ichigo's and Grimmjow's grunts bouncing around the walls of their hotel room. It was the first time in Grimmjow's life that someone had ridden him as enthusiastically as Ichigo had. The way that beautiful, sleek body was impaling on his cock had left Grimmjow breathless for several hours, unable to move a muscle.

"Oi, give me your number," Grimmjow demanded while they were dressing back up, "We might as well fuck again."

"Yeah, about that," Ichigo replied cockily, "I don't think I can see you again."

The blunet frowned. "Why's that?"

"I'm married."

That had blasted like a bomb; Grimmjow didn't even know what hit him. The statement coming from Ichigo's mouth had him gaping at the man for several minutes before regaining his senses.

It was true; Ichigo was married to a woman called Rukia Kuchiki - or something like that - a petite raven haired woman with large, black eyes from what Grimmjow saw on a picture in Ichigo's wallet. However, Ichigo claimed he didn't love her, at least not after he realized he was gay.

"I just don't know how to tell her," Ichigo had murmured, running a hand through his sexily disheveled orange hair, "She loves me and I don't want to hurt her."

Coward, Grimmjow had thought at the time.

And that's how their "relationship" had begun; long and hard sessions of mind-blowing sex every once in a few days or weeks or even months. When Ichigo called, Grimmjow ran the soonest possible, at same place to please the confused man. It was pathetic, Grimmjow knew, but he was addicted to the rude orange head and he couldn't let go, even after two years.

The reason why he still did it? Well, that would be difficult to answer presicely.

He was there; outside the hotel they first "came together", entering the lobby after parking his bike. The female receptionist eyed him curiously, her black eyes sliding hungrily over his frame, the desire pooling in them heavily, noticeably. Grimmjow smirked in triumph, very much aware of what his exotic looks did to people, both males and females. The shock of blue hair on top of his head and the matching pair of eyes always pulled females like a magnet. His body was to die for as well; tall, with broad shoulders, defined pecs, rippled abdomen and long, powerful legs.

Want more? His cock was also nine inches. Crazy huh?

Grimmjow walked up to the woman, offering a sly grin, watching in fascination a blush spreading on her face. Cute.

"Good morning," he drawled. He checked out her name tag; "Angela", it read.

"Good morning sir, how may I assist you?", she said sweetly, politely.

"I would like a key for the room 615. A friend of mine is waiting for me there."

Angela nodded, clicking a few buttons on her computer and a machine next to her started gurgling. In less than a few seconds, a white stripped card emerged from a schism and the raven haired woman gave it to Grimmjow.

"Here you go, sir," she said, a friendly smile on her beautiful face.

"Thank you, princess," Grimmjow said before walking away, chuckling to himself when the woman blushed profusely. Ah, he had his way with the ladies.

His journey from the lobby to the sixth floor, though, was too long, almost painful. Grimmjow hated narrow spaces as they made him feel as if he was chocking to death. Even though he had his eyes closed, just as his psychiatrist had advised, he could already hear his blood roaring dangerously in his ears. As soon as the metal door slid open, he ran outside, clutching his chest to slow down his thumping heart.

"Shit," he cursed breathlessly, resting his body on the wall next to him. "Fucking claustrophobia!"

Being used to the anxiety disorder after so many years, Grimmjow managed to successfully push back the upcoming panic attack. He took a deep, final breath, straightened his back and fixed his clothes neatly before he began walking towards the room 615.

Ichigo always books this damn suite, Grimmjow thought with amusement, A combination of mine and his favorite numbers.

With his mood slightly better than before, Grimmjow slid the stripped card at the door's lock and waited a second until the lock blinked green, admitting him in. The lavishly decorated suite was silent, with all the lights closed, save for a small lamp by the bedside table. Although Grimmjow was not yet inside the bedroom area, he knew for a fact that Ichigo always left the lamp by the bed on. Even during their intimate moments.

"I have fear of the dark," the orange head had confessed when Grimmjow demanded he closed the lights to sleep properly and ever since then, the blunet had not brought up the subject.

I suppose everyone has their own fear, right?

Grimmjow slipped out of his shoes before entering the living room, sparing no second glance at the familiar, stark white love seats or the paintings on the beige walls and he headed towards the master bedroom.

There he was. Laying on top of the bed in front of his laptop, typing furiously on a blank page, wearing nothing but his tight black boxers. Grimmjow halted and admired the specimen before his eyes, his mouth watering at the sight of that plum but tight ass he was so acquainted with.

Ichigo didn't look up from his work, nor spoke. Grimmjow hadn't expected him to. The orange haired man was cheeky and rude, treating Grimmjow like trash, like the blue haired man was nothing more than a nuisance, a hindrance. However, Grimmjow was sharper than everybody else seem to acknowledge as he could see right through the smaller man's act. First of all, Ichigo was proud, maybe a little too proud. He hated to seek Grimmjow's company as if doing so would wound his pride, so he acted all shitty and coldly towards the blue haired man once they were together.

Grimmjow smirked. I don't mind, not once. I certainly like to break that fucking shell he has hidden himself into and make him feel good for once in his life.

"Hey," Grimmjow rumbled after a long while of silence.

The orange haired man didn't even blink. Instead, he kept hitting the keys on his laptop. "Took you long enough."

Demanding little shit, Grimmjow scoffed inwardly but he smirked nonetheless, "Couldn't wait to see me?", he teased.

This time, Ichigo stopped typing and turned to gaze at the blue haired man, his chocolate brown eyes cold, his brows pulled in a scowl. "Your humor does not particularly amuse me."

Grimmjow laughed and began walking towards the king sized bed, taking his shirt off on the way. The white tee fell carelessly, forgotten before it even hit the floor. Grimmjow's attention was solely focused on the now blazing with desire brown eyes, as Ichigo quite literally eye-fucked his physique.

Now those are the eyes I like to see, Kurosaki Ichigo.

"What crawled up your ass and died?", Grimmjow asked as he sat down on the bouncy mattress, his hand immediately shooting up to caress the delicious skin of Ichigo's shoulders and nape. Ichigo closed the laptop's lid and placed the device aside, his muscles relaxing under Grimmjow's soothing touch.

"Rukia," he mumbled reluctantly yet willingly. Heh, what fun. No matter how much he wanted to appear as if he hated Grimmjow, Ichigo would always speak his mind around the blue haired man.

Sometimes it feels like I'm his part-time lover and psychologist at the same time.

"What did she do?", Grimmjow asked, leaning forwards to plant a chaste kiss on a slender neck. Ichigo sighed and tilted his head to the side, allowing more room for the other man to maneuver.

"Ah, she's getting a little too needy," Ichigo grumbled, "She's complaining why I don't make love to her anymore."

"Hmm," Grimmjow hummed, his hand now on the small of Ichigo's back, his tongue tasting the delicious skin on the oranget's neck, "She is a woman, Ichigo. Women need affection."

"I know," Ichigo sighed, "I just can't touch her anymore without getting disgusted."

"Then, isn't it time to let her go?"

Ichigo stayed silent for a while but that didn't stall Grimmjow's ministrations; the blunet made it his mission to taste all of the oranget's back. I could turn him into a big, purple hickey if he just let me.

"I know," the orange haired man finally mumbled, "It is time to let her go, because I'm hurting both her and me."

"Mm."

"And besides," the oranget added, "I need to develop my sexuality, I mean, I need to fuck other people and maybe, just maybe, find another partner."

Grimmjow licked his way up and down Ichigo's neck, "Sounds like a plan." He was immensely absorbed on Ichigo's silky skin, that perfect musculature underneath his fingertips but something felt a little bit odd. Grimmjow pulled back to stare at the body before him.

"You've lost weight." It wasn't a question, more like a statement.

"You think?"

"Yes," Grimmjow said, his hands now groping the tender flesh of Ichigo's ass, "Skipping meals?"

"Why's that any of your business?", Ichigo snapped back angrily.

Grimmjow was startled at the sudden mood swing but he chortled nonetheless, amused by the man's reaction. Ah, an annoyed Ichigo is always such a turn-on, he thought.

Sex becomes better.

"I'm just worried about you, pumpkin, is that bad?"

"You're not my mom," the oranget scoffed, "And don't call me fucking pumpkin!"

Grimmjow shook his head but didn't say anything. He knew better than to agitate the orange haired man when he was in a seemingly bad mood. Instead, Grimmjow licked another trail upon a slim neck displayed before his lips, marveled at the softness of the creamy skin.

"You taste good," he breathed, smirking when a shudder raked the body underneath. Grimmjow buried his nose in that unruly orange hair and inhaled deeply. Ichigo's scent was sexy enough to make him drunk with desire.

"You smell good too," he added.

"Mmhm," the smaller man sighed, tilting his head back, closing his eyes.

Ah, finally, he is responding.

Ichigo was never very responsive during sex; he grunted, sometimes even moaned, but that was all. He hated dirty talk, he was repelled by rimming - given or taken - and he never kissed. That last part of his personality, Grimmjow hated. Ichigo's lips were pink and full, perfectly kissable. Grimmjow had grumbled and complained but Ichigo had efficiently shut him up just by raising his index finger.

"I don't kiss," he had said, calmly but coldly, "That's a sacred act of love and affection. We are not lovers or in love!"

As much as he hated the argument, the orange haired man was right and Grimmjow could do nothing else but to accept and respect the other man's choice. It still frustrated him that he couldn't kiss Ichigo, though. Instead, he showered those broad shoulders with sloppy, wet kisses, making his way down a long, lean back until he reached the waistband of Ichigo's tight black boxers.

Maybe I could ask him again to kiss me. Tonight.

With both his hands, Grimmjow started pulling those boxers over Ichigo's ass, down his thighs and eventually tossed them somewhere in the spacious room. He took a moment admiring the mile long legs before he brought them apart with his knee, settling comfortably between them. Then, the blue-haired man proceeded with massaging Ichigo's thighs and his perfectly round rear.

"Mm," the orange haired man hummed, laying fully on the bed, folding his hands under his head for support. "It feels good."

Grimmjow snickered. "Of course it does."

"Smug asshole."

Grimmjow half-heartedly slapped Ichigo's ass cheek at the saucy comment. He knew he was a smug asshole alright but Ichigo had no room telling him about being an asshole, while he was a bigger one. It was okay though because Ichigo let out a sexy yelp that went straight to Grimmjow's loins. Suddenly impatient and aroused beyond belief, the blunet lifted those slim hips until the oranget was resting on his knees.

He licked his lips at the sight of that tight entrance, willing himself not to drool like a dog which was actually pretty harder than it sounded. Instead, he ran his fingers across Ichigo's ass crack while with the other he touched himself, to relief the strain happening in his pants.

Ha, fucking, ha, it only served to make things worse.

With daft fingers, Grimmjow unbuttoned and unzipped his plain blue jeans and stepped out of them along with his underwear. At the same time, he dug out of his pocket the condom he would use later.

With the corner of his eye, he caught Ichigo drilling lusty holes in his body, especially to the man saluting them between Grimmjow's powerful legs.

Grimmjow smirked in triumph. "What's the matter, pumpkin?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes at the nickname but decided to ignore it. Instead, he went and surprised Grimmjow by reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Grimmjow's cock, giving it a firm stroke. The blunet clenched his teeth and grunted. "Ah, shit."

"Feels good?", Ichigo crooned. Grimmjow glared at him, slapping his hand away and went back to their original position.

"Gimme the lube, pumpkin," he ordered.

Ichigo chuckled sarcastically, and reached for the bedside cabinet where he stashed his lubrication. After fumbling around for a while, his fingers wrapped around a plastic container and he passed it to Grimmjow.

"Thanks," Grimmjow muttered, the lid of the container already open and his first finger already slicked up neatly. He smothered some of the sticky fluid on Ichigo's entrance and then his finger went down fuck town.

"Ah!", Ichigo jolted as he was breached. Grimmjow grinned; it always gave him a kind of sadistic pleasure to see the usually calm and collected orange haired man react so warmly to his fingers.

Damn, Ichigo's insides were so soft and pliant. Grimmjow found himself reaching down to his manhood, stroking leisurely the engorged flesh while slipping another finger or two into Ichigo tight canal. Sooner than he had expected, his patience ran out and he was already reaching for the condom by his side. Ichigo thrusting his hips backwards to meet his fingers wasn't helping him at all.

"Ichigo, I want inside you. Now," he mumbled urgently, pressing on the orange haired man's prostate, moaning as well at the lewd sound that left Ichigo's lips.

"H-Hurry," was the breathless reply he got.

It wasn't more than fifteen seconds until Grimmjow had slipped on the condom, drizzled more of the lube over Ichigo's hole and gently slid inside the oranget. Ah, the first thrust was always exhilarating; the warmth, the tightness. It was something Grimmjow never found in any other of his partners.

"H-Harder!", Ichigo silently demanded, tilting his hips backwards. Grimmjow bit his lip and thrust once, twice... which was pretty much all the time it took for his control to snap like a brittle twig. His hips got a mind of their own, ramming ruthlessly into the smaller man, his hands clasping tightly around a slim waist. Heh, Ichigo is going to have bruises after this, he thought to himself fleetingly.

"Ngh... Shit's so good," Ichigo muttered through clenched teeth, bracing himself on the headboard. "D-Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

Grimmjow growled at the command and ran his hands over Ichigo's stomach, to the oranget's nipples. Ichigo arched his back lasciviously, changing the angle of penetration and consequently deepening it, only serving to make both men moan.

He could see his orgasm coming to him with the speed of light. Ichigo's insides, Ichigo's sexy, bed voice, Ichigo being louder than usual too, the slapping noises their bodies made... God, they had the best sex in history of sex.

"T-Touch me."

Grimmjow nodded, even though he knew Ichigo couldn't see him and he reached down for the man's neglected, until now, erection. It didn't take long; one, two, three expert tugs and Ichigo was coming all over Grimmjow's hand with an unusually loud moan, spreading his baby makers on the white bed sheets. Grimmjow was following his lead soon after as the walls surrounding his erection spasmed uncontrollably, massaging him to oblivion. He swore he saw white as his orgasm was yanked out of him with the force of high speed train.

As soon as he climaxed, Grimmjow fell bonelessly on the orange haired man, sandwiching him between his body and the mattress.

"Oi," Ichigo grunted firmly and a little annoyed, "Get off me, I can't breath."

"'Scuze me pumpkin," Grimmjow teased, kissed Ichigo's temple and rolled on his back.

Ichigo sucked a deep breath, rolling on his back as well, draping his arm over his face. "Fuck. That was awesome."

"It always is."

There was a while of silence between the two, the only audible thing in the room being their ragged breaths.

It was Ichigo the first one to break the silence. How unusual.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Grimmjow craned his neck and blinked at the orange haired man. He was dumbfounded, stricken, frozen on the spot - yeah, you named it. The oranget though was staring intensely at the ceiling, and Grimmjow could catch the hint discomfort on those usually cool and calm features.

Strange. Incomprehensible.

"No," he responded earnestly in the end.

Ichigo nodded in understanding. "Do you want one?", he then asked, surprising the hell out of Grimmjow once more.

"It'd be nice to settle down at some point," the blunet responded after choosing his words carefully. What the eff was happening? Maybe this man wasn't Ichigo?

The oranget nodded once more before rolling on his side, his hand began rubbing circles on Grimmjow's stomach. Brown eyes lifted to bore right into his wide blue ones but Ichigo didn't utter a single word.

"What is wrong Ichigo?", Grimmjow asked, his hand tenderly cupping the other's cheek.

The oranget chuckled and averted his gaze, gingerly removing Grimmjow's hand from his face. "Nothing."

"You sure?"

Those beautiful brown eyes were right back on his and this time Grimmjow noticed a worried frown marring together the orange eyebrows. Ichigo didn't do worried; he did angry, pissed, obnoxious, cocky but not fucking worried.

Ichigo's hand trailed up from Grimmjow's stomach to his face, gently caressing Grimmjow's cheek. Before Grimmjow had the time to object and ask another question, Ichigo's lips were on his, planting chaste kisses, nipping the soft skin.

It took a few moments until Grimmjow registered what was being done to him but once he did, he didn't waste any more valuable time thinking about it. His eyes closed on their own, his mouth opening slightly, accepting Ichigo's protruding but still very much shy tongue and allowed himself to be swept away.

Holy shit. Ichigo was kissing him for the first time and it was the most intense sensation Grimmjow had ever experienced. Their tongues danced with each other in a slow, sensual tango, their lips coming together loudly, lewdly. Ichigo grew bolder and dared to tangle his long, slim fingers with Grimmjow's hair. At that point, the blue haired man purred like a cat.

He was such a sucker for having his haired played with.

A small, amused chuckle left the oranget's throat and without Grimmjow's approval, he pulled away from the kiss and brought their foreheads together.

No! Wait!

Grimmjow let out a displeased growl, earning another airy chuckle from the other man.

"Thank you, Grimmjow," the oranget whispered.

It was the first time in two years that Ichigo had said his name.

"For what?"

"For everything."

With that, the orange haired man climbed up from the bed and casually searched for his clothes. On the other hand, Grimmjow's head was screaming at him to stand up and demand some explanations from the other man but he was too paralyzed, too stunned to be able to move or form words. He simply followed Ichigo's every move around the room until the man paused, flashing him a dazzling smile.

"I'll call you," he said and before Grimmjow knew, he had vanished from his sight.

XXXX

Three months later.

Grimmjow was working on a project about ethics in psychological research when suddenly his phone buzzed next to him, initially startling him. A text. He flicked the screen on, opened the message and promptly froze on the spot.

A text mesage. From Ichigo. Ichigo never texted. He only called for a fucking session. But, Grimmjow thought sarcastically, Many things changed since the last time we met. Truth to be told, Grimmjow was deeply confused after their last encounter; sometimes he couldn't sleep at night because he couldn't get that kiss as well as Ichigo's words out of his mind. Pathetic. It was pathetic but that was the truth.

Shaking his head, Grimmjow read the small, curt message.

Are you free tonight?, it read.

That sure was unusual too; Ichigo never bothered to ask Grimmjow whether he was free or not; he just plainly gave an order and expected the blunet to run to him. Grimmjow contemplated on whether to reply or not, choosing "yes" as the best answer. He was curious to where this would lead him. Besides, he wanted to see Ichigo, ask him what had caused this sudden change of heart.

Yes. Same place, the soonest possible?, Grimmjow texted back.

The answer was almost immediate. How about I come by your place?

Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow in surprise. What the fuck was going on in Ichigo's head, nobody knew. But the blunet wanted to know, almost desperately.

Where do I owe the pleasure?

We will celebrate.

What?

I got a divorce.

Grimmjow chuckled, spinning around with his chair. So that's what all was about. He was unexpectedly gleeful to hear such news and it seemed that Ichigo was sharing the same emotions too. Now all Grimmjow wanted was to see the oranget the soonest possible, maybe get Ichigo to kiss him again.

With a silly smile on his face, Grimmjow texted back. I'll make lasagna, you bring the wine.

It's a date, Ichigo replied.

With a smiley face.

XXXX

Sooo? Any better?

Thanks again for reading and Merry Christmas to everyone.

- Queen.