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They fight a lot and talk very little. Sometimes they fuck – Grimmjow too rough, and Ichigo uncomplaining. Though they talked about that too – once.
But they never talk about this.
Ichigo knew it the moment Grimmjow showed up. Could see it in the tightening of Grimmjow’s eyes, the jerky roll of his shoulders, the utter lack of greeting, the way he resorted to fists. Knew what Grimmjow wouldn’t ask for. Knew what he needed.
It had taken Ichigo more than an hour to get them to this, the heavy chains wrapped tight around Grimmjow’s wrists and threaded through the metal rails of Ichigo’s bed. Grimmjow’s arms stretched above his head, muscles rippling in a way that made the links clank ominously against the carabineers holding them together.
Grimmjow growled underneath him as Ichigo snarled, tightening his grip around the base of Grimmjow’s cock, staring down into pupils blown wide and black with lust. Grimmjow was splayed on his back, slick with lube from his ass to his belly, the wet smear coating him from hole to crease. A mad grin was stretched around the rag Ichigo had stuffed in his mouth at the very beginning, as soon as he’d beaten Grimmjow down. The thick vibrator in Ichigo’s hand was on so high it made his hand numb. He twisted his wrist, pushing the blunt, buzzing head over Grimmjow’s prostate with another unforgiving shove, his thumb and fingertips forcing the muscle to give, slipping inside, into to the heat along with it, then back out again.
Grimmjow jerked with each flex of Ichigo’s wrist, his snarl feral, chest flushed and slick with sweat, knees bent, legs spread high and wide. His legs were unrestrained, because there wasn’t a need. No need to hold him open, force him wide and keep him spread, not once he was like this.
Grimmjow’s thighs started to tremble and Ichigo leaned on them, pushing with shoulders and hands – tightening his grip and holding the vibrator hard and steady against Grimmjow’s prostate. Grimmjow’s entire body shuddered, his hips shaking, the sharp bark of frustrated rage at yet another orgasm denied was muffled by the gag. Ichigo held him down as he thrashed, the cock in his hand drooling come, angry, purple and stiff.
He released the heavy thighs slowly, pulling the vibe back to swirl against the rim of Grimmjow’s hole in a steady circle and waited as Grimmjow huffed for air through his nose and the sounds behind the gag faded to familiar snarls. Without warning, Ichigo shoved the vibrator in deep again – a hard steady pressure against that overworked bundle of nerves. And released the base of Grimmjow’s cock.
The body under Ichigo jerked as if tazed, hips humping up and up and up in frantic thrusts, the freed cock slapped slick and obscene against a wet belly. Then the slit gaped and the length jerked as it sprayed come across Grimmjow’s chest. The frantic movements, the sounds coming from behind the gag – Grimmjow – made Ichigo shudder.
He pulled the vibe out, turned it off and tossed it off the bed, his wet hands already at Grimmjow’s hips. He guided the long legs down and wide as he pulled Grimmjow up his thighs, fingers dipping in the wet mess of Grimmjow’s ass alongside his own cock. He tugged at the rim and pushed inside with a growl that sounded more Hollow than human.
Grimmjow groaned – low and deep and centered, rolling his hips down into the first thrust. And the second. More easy and stunning than at any other moment, ever. More than even at the peak of battle. Ichigo crouched over Grimmjow’s sweaty, wrung out body, wrapping an arm low around his hips to pull him down, pull him closer as Ichigo thrust, his movements sharp and steady, the heat tugging along his cock, slick and perfect. He pulled the rag from between Grimmjow’s teeth and put both tongue and fingers in Grimmjow’s mouth, petting the backs of his teeth, the length of his tongue, licking. Fucking him from both ends.
Grimmjow pushed up, into the kiss and sucked greedily on all of it, even the soft bite of his teeth a gentle caress, and that alone was enough to make Ichigo come.