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They're on a roof this time, flat and gravel-covered and not nearly high enough to escape the hustle and buzz of evening shoppers in the busy district below. The roofs of a half-dozen neighboring buildings have been similarly tortured into bare patches and piles with their fighting, but this one is by far the worst. At the apex of the largest wave, Pantera's blade pierces Tensa Zangetsu's guard, both swords stabbed into the surface mere inches apart.
A few feet past them, Ichigo is being fucked.
He grunts as a brutal thrust shoves him forward, one hand bleeding as it skids through the sharp rocks, the other held tight against his lower back. He snarls and kicks blindly at Grimmjow, relishing the snap as bare foot meets bare leg. The resulting scrabble frees his arm, but gets his already scraped knees splayed wide and his neck grabbed. His head is shoved down until his cheek meets the same fate as his hand.
His angry snort stirs up dust and the next thrust makes him cry out, the broken sound making his stomach turn. Grimmjow pauses long enough to spit, and spit again where they're joined and Ichigo's cock swells and drools more precome on the fist Grimmjow has clamped around it.
Grimmjow goes right back to fucking.
The new angle is torture and Ichigo nearly bites his lip through trying to hold back the sounds, wrenching an arm up and sinking teeth into his forearm to muffle them.
An outraged growl is all the warning he gets before Grimmjow's hand moves over his face, inhumanly strong fingers working open his jaw until he lets go of his arm and all the helpless sounds spill out. Ichigo doesn't try to muffle them again. The hand squeezing Ichigo's cock tightens and the sounds go up in volume, the pleased rumble behind him only gets louder as he thrashes uselessly against the hold, overwhelmed by the need to thrust into that fist, choking on a strangled moan when a calloused thumb scrubs back and forth over the slit, smearing the steady stream of precome before going still again.
Ichigo's been trying to come since they started fucking, but Grimmjow keeps him too far from it. He curses at the way Grimmjow knows his body; knows the repeated stabs to his prostate are more torture than satisfaction, that he needs the stroke of hand or mouth on his cock to actually come. Grimmjow can keep him like this for hours - days, when he's in a mood to watch him suffer.
Moaning even as he thrashes, Ichigo's reiatsu crackles against Grimmjow's as he works himself into a frenzy, muscles bunched for another pointless retaliation when he feels a familiar heat all along his back. Grimmjow's body is curled down and covering his, and Ichigo stops fighting.
Rough, unsteady breaths wash over the back of Ichigo's neck as a nose nuzzles his nape, lips parting over his spine. Grimmjow's thrusts have become smooth, and Ichigo works his hips with them instead of against, pushing back to take more of the fucking. The need to come claws at him, just under the surface, every nerve ending screaming for it, and he would - scream for it.
But this. This is more important.
He does not care about the what and why of it (he never asks), he only knows that it is happening. Again.
Ichigo shivers when he feels the scrape of teeth against his neck. They test the line of bloody and fading bite marks that cloak him from shoulder to shoulder, nipping gently against each wound until they find the oldest with uncanny precision. Marks that have been days and weeks and months in the making. Marks that Ichigo presses and digs at with his own, thin fingers when he's alone and wants to come. Marks that Grimmjow never acknowledges or claims, except in this moment.
Ichigo is braced against the pain, but is not prepared for the intensity as Grimmjow bites down and sharp teeth break cleanly through skin. He has to scream. It is brief and shattered and quickly cut off as Grimmjow's jaw clamps down hard, grabbing muscle, and the bite becomes a deep, holding ache that Ichigo can better manage.
It's then that everything slows down.
Grimmjow is wrapped around his body skin-to-skin, one hand still tight around Ichigo's cock, the other is splayed flat under the slender throat, pressing Ichigo into the bite as he thrusts. Although still ungentle, the thrusts have slowed down, becoming languid stabs of Grimmjow's thick cock into Ichigo's hole, the powerful roll of his hips sending shudders of sensation through their connected bodies. Though he cannot see it right now, Ichigo knows Grimmjow's gaze is alien and distant, more monster now than he ever is in battle.
Grimmjow is, at his core, an animal.
And right now, he is mating.
The surrender is instinctive and Ichigo doesn't fight it - never has, not even the first time it happened. Instead, he pushes into the bite and moves in easy counterpoint to the fucking, rocking back into the thrusts letting the dull throb of pleasure overwhelmed by pain beat a constant rhythm against his senses. It is one of the few times they are equally vulnerable, and Ichigo never tells Grimmjow how long they are like this when they fuck.
But it is always longer than their battles.
Every muscle in Grimmjow's body tightens when he finally comes. Ichigo keeps a strangled moan trapped behind his teeth as he feels Grimmjow shudder and go still behind him, their hips locked together. They remain in a straining tableau for long moments before Grimmjow unclamps his jaw and releases Ichigo's shoulder.
Grimmjow licks over the wound with the flat of his tongue and starts moving again at the first taste of blood. Ichigo buries his face in both arms, ignoring the scrape and sting of the gravel as he braces himself firmly against the increasing tempo of Grimmjow's hips.
Grimmjow will come again before he's done - each thrust harder, faster and more brutal than before, the second orgasm harder won. The lingering warmth from earlier disappears entirely, and Grimmjow's hands are clamped on Ichigo's hips, working the slender body back and forth relentlessly on his cock.
Ichigo's own cock swings and slaps between his thighs and belly, stiff and dripping and not nearly enough to make him come, only drive him back up to a plateau of frustration that leaves him weak-kneed and lifting his hips higher. The wet sounds of Grimmjow's cock fucking his own come in and out of Ichigo's body make him tighten around that cock. He's too far gone enough to mind the sounds he makes with each thrust and concentrates instead on not crying, or begging, or trying to run.
Grimmjow's final thrust is so hard when he comes, it knocks them both down into the gravel. Ichigo hisses and twists them to the side to spare himself more injury as Grimmjow goes with him easily, still convulsing. The last shudder has barely faded when Grimmjow is pulling out and hovering over his wrecked body, pushing his legs up and apart before shoving four long fingers into the wet mess of Ichigo's hole without warning.
Ichigo hollers and scrabbles to get away, but Grimmjow follows with a hand fisted in his hair and the scrape of bone against his cheek as he drags Ichigo into a brutal, open-mouthed kiss. Ichigo's curses are lost inside it and instead he fights with teeth and tongue and fists pounding on Grimmjow's immovable arms, going still and wide-eyed when he gets a low chuckle and a firm nip of his tongue in response.
And.
The hand working busily at his entrance is not gentle, but it is not painful or punishing either. Grimmjow pulls back from Ichigo's mouth and moves down, his gaze intent on where he's working his fingers deeper inside Ichigo's body. Ichigo can feel them pushing in up to the widest part of Grimmjow's hand and he has to open his mouth to keep from begging when Grimmjow finally curls them into a half-fist and rocks his knuckles against that too abused bump of flesh, thumb squeezing against it from the outside.
Ichigo hollers and pulls back to kick him, but Grimmjow grabs his leg before he can complete the motion and rocks his knuckles again. Ichigo cries out, and whines - high pitched and surprised when a hot mouth closes tight around the tip of his cock and starts sucking. His mouth and legs fall wide open as he thrusts his hips up, his moan sounding broken as Grimmjow rocks his knuckles again and avoids the thrust, keeping just the tip of his cock under suction. A tongue drags back and forth over the slit, and then digs at it a bit before going back to licking.
Ichigo covers his face with both arms, his hands curled into fists.
He can come like this.
Eventually.
Long, thin fingers pry his arms away to crawl over his chin to press against his mouth and he sucks them between his lips with a dip of his head and no hesitation, moaning as he draws two, then three, and then a fourth as deep as he can. Licking, lapping, tongue wriggling between them and sucking, lips stretched around them as he cradles the hand with both of his own. Sucking that makes his cock drip faster and the knuckles torturing him bearable enough to feel pleasure as he licks.
He climbs slowly towards orgasm, the mouth on the end of his cock dragging him along, the knuckles kneading at his prostate holding him at the edge until a tongue digs unrelenting at the slit and he's coming and coming and coming.
The first spurt is so drawn out it hurts and then he's gurgling around wet fingers as a hot mouth envelops the whole length, and each push against his prostate means more come bubbles up and drips down and is swallowed.
He comes for what feels like hours.
END