Work Text:
Wake up.
Ulquiorra’s eyes opened, bleary from sleep. Warmth radiated against his side and a heavy arm laid across his chest. The fingers held onto his shoulder in a possessive grip, and he could feel hot breath against his neck. His head lulled to the side and he breathed in the scent of blood and sweat.
Grimmjow.
His hair was tousled, his face relaxed. He looked so at peace when he slept. Ridiculous creature. Ulquiorra still couldn’t fathom how Grimmjow fell asleep so soundly in his bed. Of the two of them, Ulquiorra was the true threat. Or at least he was when something caught his eye. Grimmjow was the more volatile of them, often launching into a violent attack at anything that moved.
Did Grimmjow weigh Ulquiorra’s slothfulness against his own blood lust and find the two pale in comparison? Arrogant fool. Ulquiorra turned his head to stare at the ceiling, choosing to ignore his own hypocrisy. After all, he allowed Grimmjow that closeness, didn’t he? Even basked in his warmth.
The bed shifted while Grimmjow wriggled closer, tossing a leg over Ulquiorra’s bare waist. His head nestled against Ulquiorra’s shoulder, and a snore rattled out of him. More of his weight pinned Ulquiorra in place. That was another thing he let Grimmjow away with; pinning him.
For a hollow, any act of submission could be taken as a sign of weakness. Willingly baring his throat to Grimmjow made Ulquiorra foolish, and the same could be reversed. And the fact they shared a bed? He had done enough dwelling on that, and found he didn't mind. It was… pleasant waking up with Grimmjow there. Even on nights they didn’t couple, Grimmjow always crawled under the covers and draped himself over Ulquiorra. It had become routine.
Ulquiorra lifted his hand to rest on Grimmjow’s forearm. The skin felt warm, and he found himself drawing nonsensical shapes with his fingertips. Grimmjow rumbled against his ear, the noise turning into a low purr. Ulquiorra’s eyes closed while the purring and Grimmjow’s body heat drew him back toward sleep.
His thoughts drifted, aimless, and he found himself replaying whatever dream had woken him up. It was rare for him to dream; even rarer for anything beyond the memory of sinking into the crystal tree. But there was something else on the edge of his subconscious, something fuzzy and distant and tainted.
It’s my birthday.
The discordant thought rattled around his head and forced his eyes open. He furrowed his brows at the ceiling. Why did he think of that and why did it make his chest ache? Was it some irritating remnant from his human life? Drivel. It had been centuries since he was human. If he had ever been.
An image flashed through his thoughts of tiny hands clutching a misshapen pastry. Phantom sweetness sat heavy on his tongue and he swallowed. A weight settled in his gut, not one he could blame on Grimmjow. The intrusive thought tried to gain some traction, but he refused, shoving it aside and himself up.
A hand seized around his wrist, and Ulquiorra looked to see Grimmjow’s lip curl. He was still asleep, but the vise grip on Ulquiorra’s arm would be tight enough to bruise if he were any number below Grimmjow. Had he grabbed Ulquiorra out of irritation or instinct?
Ulquiorra mumbled, “Grimmjow.”
The asinine panther had the audacity to attempt to drag Ulquiorra back onto the bed. Ulquiorra made a soft noise at the back of his throat and shifted to brace himself on his free arm. He watched Grimmjow nuzzle into the pillow. He was loathe to call the action cute, but there the word perched on his tongue, asking to fall. Ulquiorra swallowed it.
He sighed instead and ran his fingers through Grimmjow’s hair. “You are such a laze-about, Grimmjow Jaegerjacques.”
Grimmjow rumbled and nuzzled into Ulquiorra’s palm. It was far too gentle, much too trusting. It left something deep in Ulquiorra’s very being quaking. He drew his free hand back to untangle Grimmjow’s fingers from his wrist. The bastard dared to whine, but before he could get another grab in, Ulquiorra was on his feet moving across the room.
The cool air brushed his bare skin, and a baser part of Ulquiorra pleaded with him to go back to bed. He ignored it and opened the closet for a fresh uniform. He eased the hakama up his hips and fitted his obi. He turned while he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, watching Grimmjow sprawl across the bed. Covetous thing.
For a moment, Ulquiorra was reminded of a house cat rather than a panther with the way Grimmjow rubbed his cheek against Ulquiorra’s pillow. Wait. Ulquiorra’s brows twitched when he noticed Grimmjow’s fingers flex, and he drug the pillow closer to his nose. The bastard inhaled Ulquiorra’s scent. His stomach twisted with a myriad of emotions. Most of them unflattering.
Ulquiorra zipped his jacket with a little more force than necessary, bumping his knuckles against his chin. He pressed his lips thin and snagged a pair of boots. He settled on the edge of the bed to pull them on, trying to ignore the cloying want in his insides.
Grimmjow grumbled something behind him and pressed his foot to Ulquiorra’s hip.
Ulquiorra glanced over his shoulder at the mess of a man taking up his bed. Grimmjow’s lips parted and a word tumbled out. Ulquiorra strained his hearing and felt warmth creeping up his throat when he realized it was his name. His chest throbbed.
He faced forward and stood, walking out of his bedroom without a second thought.
~*~
The observational tasks Aizen assigned Ulquiorra had never kept much of his attention. He did not care what his fellow Espada did with the exception of Szayelaporro, but that was out of self preservation than any curiosity. The mad doctor was not to be trusted, and Ulquiorra was not egotistical enough to turn his back on someone who would see him flayed. Well, two someones.
He continued through the endless corridors and felt a strain in his eyes. The ability to record, process, and then distribute what he witnessed was an invaluable tool. Though it often left him with a headache or pressure behind his eyes that only plucking the eyeball from the socket could relieve. It was an irritating affair, useful but irritating. Aizen often took advantage of the ability, but Ulquiorra had long since been doctoring most of the imagery he depicted. His emotional state, as little of one he maintained, could be felt when the crushed reishi of his eye was absorbed. While he did not hold many secrets, the few he possessed were his and his alone.
Ulquiorra took a deep breath and settled himself to his aimless wandering. Most weaker spots of energy flickered out of his range while the larger ones remained. It was boring, his patrol, and he found his thoughts shifting back to his palace. About the panther sprawled in his sheets. Warmth settled in his stomach at the idea of going back to bed, of draping himself across Grimmjow like the bastard did to him.
It would be a nice way to spend his birthday.
The intrusive thought startled Ulquiorra enough to make him pause. It would be ridiculous to believe the day’s date was his actual birthday. The dates of all Arrancar births were no doubt fabrications of Aizen’s own making. Though as Ulquiorra recollected the times he was present for the birth of new Arrancar, he did not recall Aizen noting the date as anything significant. Odd. And if he delved deeper into his memories, Ulquiorra recalled that both Granz brothers shared a birth date, but not a creation date.
He decided that it was not a thought deserving so much attention.
A presence moved toward him, and Ulquiorra turned his head in time to see a servant drop to a crouch at his side. “Lord Ulquiorra, Lord Aizen has requested your presence in the meeting hall.” They kept their eyes focused on the floor, hands folded in front of them.
Ulquiorra turned forward. “You are dismissed.” The servant disappeared without flourish.
The summons sat heavily at the back of Ulquiorra’s thoughts. The meeting was no doubt another excuse for Aizen to stroke his ego. While Ulquiorra did not agree with Grimmjow’s thirst for battle, he could side with the futility of keeping an army such as theirs so tightly restrained. So confined to the palace that Aizen needed to invent ridiculous rules to lord some sense of “peace” over them.
Aizen had always been toying with them, Ulquiorra had known that the moment he became an Espada, but had they not grown large enough to accomplish Aizen’s plans? Had he not amassed enough Numeros? Did his precious Espada not prove themselves capable of dealing with shinigami of captain strength? While he did not wish to fall into a needless fight, Ulquiorra had no interest in enduring Aizen’s mania ad infintium. He wanted to be free.
And what did freedom mean to a hollow?
What did freedom mean to him?
Aizen would never relinquish his monarchy, even if it cost him his life. He may have been a shinigami, but he possessed a hollow’s need to consume, to fill its very emptiness. Single minded, never full. Craving.
Ulquiorra was not so blind as to mistake Aizen for anything resembling a kind king. He did not create Arrancar with the gentle hands of some benign god. No the process was painful, wretched. Their very masks cracked and broken to pull them through a final stage of evolution that was nothing short of agony. Even piercing himself on the limbs of his tree had been euphoria to Ulquiorra compared to the sudden rush of a world he had never wanted.
Ulquiorra understood power, and he understood the thin balance the Espada walked beside the shinigami. Aizen would win, but there would be a cost. And when he did win, the Espada would become unnecessary. Liabilities. They would be culled.
At one point in his existence, Ulquiorra found comfort in that thought. Now it sat at the back of his throat, thick and viscous.
Someone bumped his arm. “Hey.”
Ulquiorra went stiff and jerked his head to the side to see Grimmjow yawning. Panic rushed through him, instant then gone. He hadn’t even sensed Grimmjow. Grimmjow scrubbed a fist at his eyes, and Ulquiorra took the chance to school his expression back to one of indifference.
Ulquiorra straightened his shoulders and started down the hall toward the meeting room. “I am surprised to see you on time, Grimmjow.”
Grimmjow’s footsteps fell in step with him. He yawned again. “Someone kept banging on your door.” He nudged his hip against Ulquiorra. “And it’s not as much fun laying around in your bed without you.”
Ulquiorra shut his eyes and found the feeling mutual. There was a distinct loss of comfort without Grimmjow in bed. He disliked how easily he had grown accustomed to the company. Perhaps he would need to begin to wean himself.
The doors to the meeting room opened without a flourish, and the two of them separated to sit on opposite sides of the table. The others filed in one after another and settled in their places. Aizen began his speech. Ulquiorra kept enough attention trained on the ravings in the event he might need to recite them, but otherwise found his thoughts drifting back to dangerous areas.
Ulquiorra’s eyes slid across the table to settle on Grimmjow who sprawled in his chair. One of his hands propped his chin up while he braced his leg against the armrest of his chair. He looked bored, gaze flicking around the table until it focused on Ulquiorra.
Grimmjow’s eyes sharpened like he found prey, and a slim smile split his lips. His leg dropped, and he sat forward on the very edge of his seat. Hunger flashed in his eyes. The empty space between Ulquiorra's ribs contracted, and he let out a measured breath. And then something kicked his ankle.
Ulquiorra’s brows dipped and his jaw clenched when he felt the tip of Grimmjow’s boot scuff his ankle. A harder nudge forced Ulquiorra's foot back. His eyes snapped to Grimmjow, and he narrowed them.All it earned him was a flash of Grimmjow's teeth. Right, the panther craved attention as much as destruction. Ulquiorra drew his foot as far back as he could, weighing the benefits of kicking Grimmjow in the shin. It would be childish, but Grimmjow was the one trying to play footsie during business hours.
Aizen did not give Ulquiorra the chance for petty revenge. “And to end our meeting, I would like to wish our dear Cuatro Espada a happy birthday.” He gestured toward Ulquiorra with a flourish of his hand, eyes turned to amused slits.
Of course Aizen would make some production of the whole thing. He did that to each of the Espada if they survived long enough.
Ulquiorra kept his expression blank. “Thank you, Lord Aizen.”
A servant placed a saucer in front of Ulquiorra with a steaming mug of… cocoa? How irritating. Was Aizen making a jab at Ulquiorra’s sweet tooth? He was always so careful to never overindulge or show any sign of preference when offered food. Aizen was the sort of man who could weaponize even confections, and Ulquiorra had no intention of giving him ammunition.
He settled his hand on the mug, feeling its warmth. It smelled… unpleasant. Like it had been brewed with water instead of milk. There was a chalky, brown residue around the edge. Powdered, not scratch. This was a jab, and an insult, at his sweet tooth. Rotten bastard. Ulquiorra pressed his tongue to his teeth.
“My pleasure, Ulquiorra.” Aizen tilted his head to the side. He settled at the head of their table with his own mug in hand. “All of you, a drink to celebrate!”
Ulquiorra lifted the mug to take a sip. He regretted it, but swallowed anyways. The taste was foul, artificially sweet with a touch of burnt metal. He forced down another swallow.
Szayelaporro crooned from his section of table. “Oh, is it your birthday?” He ran the tip of his index finger around the rim of his mug. “And here I am with no present.” He smiled something that bordered between lecherous and venomous.
Nnoitra cackled. “Shit, we all know who got him something!” His eye crinkled with malice while he turned a nasty grin toward Grimmjow. “Right up the ass, yeah, Grimm?”
Grimmjow bared his teeth. “Fuck off.”
Nnoitra giggled and downed his drink. The curl of his lip was almost worth the insult.
The other Espada treated their mugs in a similar fashion while Aizen nursed his own. Ulquiorra held the mug back to his lips, willing himself to finish it. Aizen often took offense if tea went unfinished, or pastries only nibbled. Ulquiorra took three large swallows. The cocoa settled heavily in his stomach, and for the first time in gods knew when, he contemplated vomiting.
Ulquiorra settled the empty mug on the saucer. “Thank you for the kindness, Lord Aizen.”
Aizen hummed. His eyes stayed transfixed on Ulquiorra for several long heartbeats until he said, “Meeting adjourned.”
The other Espada wasted little time in exiting. Ulquiorra stood and made his way out, heading toward his palace. Halfway between the corridor and the meeting hall, he felt Grimmjow’s energy shift from distant to beside him.
“Hey.” Grimmjow dipped his head to look at Ulquiorra. “You like food, right?”
Ulquiorra had not expected that question, but he had expected something ridiculous to spill out of Grimmjow’s mouth. While Ulquiorra didn’t mind consuming the pastries (the good ones) Aizen offered with their meetings, he would not go so far as to say he “liked” food. It was just… not a dislike. A hollow who enjoyed human food seemed off. Not that Ulquiorra had partaken in much cannibalism prior to becoming an Arrancar. It was difficult without a mouth.
He replied, “I have no idea what you are on abo-”
Grimmjow snapped, “Ulquiorra!” His brows knitted together and his lip curled back.
Ah, so Grimmjow had no room for Ulquiorra’s usual deflections or non-answers. “I do not mind eating.”
Grimmjow’s shoulders sagged. “Good.” His arm struck out to catch Ulquiorra’s elbow while he tore open a garganta with his free hand.
The desire to tear Grimmjow’s arm from its socket flared to brilliant life in Ulquiorra’s core before he forced himself to relax. Grimmjow’s proclivity to yanking Ulquiorra around would likely be his cause of death one day. There was no fear in his irritatingly handsome head. Maybe Ulquiorra would tug him around in retaliation.
The garganta opened ahead of them to reveal a patch of cloudy, gray sky. Cold air buffeted them, ruffling Ulquiorra’s hair. He could taste petrichor in the air, and the chill slipped down his throat, deep into his lungs. A mountainside stood before them with hundreds of frosted trees dotting its face. Below he could sense the presence of dozens of humans bustling through a small town.
Grimmjow bumped his elbow. “Suppress your reiatsu. You dropped a bird.”
Ulquiorra blinked and saw the body of a red bird spiraling toward the ground. He pulled his energy tight to his skin, then into his chest while they made their way to the center of the town. The noise of humans expanded, and Ulquiorra found while he didn’t care for it, he had no desire to kill them.
The chill in the air grew when the wind whipped around them. Fat snowflakes tumbled from the sky, catching in Grimmjow’s hair.
Ulquiorra found it… pleasant. He looked up at the sky while more flakes fell, sticking to his cheeks. It had been a considerable amount of time since he last saw snow. Perhaps during one of Aizen’s reconnaissance missions to the living world. Or… there was a vague memory replaying in his head of a different snowfall. His bones recollected the chill, his cheeks the sting of thrashing wind. While the images flickered in front of him, he lifted his hand to catch a few snowflakes in his palm.
He did not like how familiar it felt.
Grimmjow grunted, “Come on. We can play with the snow later.”
Ulquiorra shook his head and allowed Grimmjow to pull him past the frosted shop windows. A few people paused when they passed, one or two shuddering. None of them had much in the way of spiritual pressure, but they steered clear of the pair of them either way. Seemed even humans could comprehend the caution needed to skirt predators like them.
Halfway down the street, Grimmjow spoke, “I don’t really remember my birthdays, but humans hold them in high regards.” It sounded like he wanted to say more, but he kept walking.
Humans held many useless notions in high regard. From birth to death, their lives were a parade of trivial nonsense. Ulquiorra sighed. “Humans are trash beneath our feet, Grimmjow.”
Grimmjow grinned wide enough to bare his fangs. “You said ‘our’ feet.”
Why did he always latch onto the most inane things? Ulquiorra frowned. “Do not make something of that. It is a collective our, not exclusive.” He had been giving Grimmjow far too much leeway as of late.
Grimmjow’s grin managed to widen to the point Ulquiorra worried he might hurt himself.
“Uh huh.” He tilted his head back and the smile relaxed. “Do you remember your birthday?”
Ulquiorra often wondered why Grimmjow wasted his time on something they had willingly let go. Did he carry some regret or remorse deeper than what had turned him hollow? Or was this just curiosity?
Ulquiorra shook his head. “No.” It wasn’t a total lie, but he had been a hollow for centuries. What remained of his memories sat foggy at the back of his mind. They may not have even been his. The point of their existence as Arrancar had resulted from thousands of souls being devoured and one single entity struggling through that writhing mass to become the strongest of them all. But that was still no guarantee that everything that made up an Arrancar’s personality had been their own. Or anyone’s. There was a chance, one he detested, that what he recalled were fabrications of his own mind.
Grimmjow pressed closer to Ulquiorra. His body heat flared warm and inviting. If Ulquiorra were a weaker man, he might even entertain the idea of easing under Grimmjow’s arm.
Grimmjow kept him from embarrassing himself. “I remember someone was happy for mine once. I don’t think it was me though.” An odd sourness permeated the words, but Grimmjow’s usual vitriol was absent. Even his expression looked soft.
Ulquiorra looked away. “How unfortunate.”
Grimmjow’s brow furrowed and he growled. A few people scurried away from them. “You gonna be an ass all day, Ulquiorra?”
Ulquiorra turned to look at him. He had not intended any offense, but this was Grimmjow. The man could find insult in silence.
Ulquiorra was not a kind sort of lover. “It is supposed to be my birthday, am I not allowed to express my emotions as I see fit?” The sarcasm weighed on his tongue, but not in an unpleasant way. He rather liked when the two of them could exchange verbal barbs. It made the abnormal feeling in his chest settle.
Grimmjow’s eyes flashed with amusement. He leaned against Ulquiorra’s ear to breathe, “You’re such a little bitch sometimes.”
The warmth of Grimmjow’s breath ripped a shiver out of Ulquiorra. He licked his lips. “And you’re a ravenous bastard drunk on his own blood lust.”
Grimmjow’s hand dropped to Ulquiorra’s hip and squeezed. “You don’t have to compliment me that nicely, little bat.” He nipped Ulquiorra’s ear.
Ulquiorra shivered again. Bastard. “Grimmjow.”
Grimmjow licked the shell of Ulquiorra’s ear before pressing his forehead to Ulquiorra’s temple. He murmured, “Wait right here, okay?”
Ulquiorra considered returning to Hueco Mundo for the sake of being contradictory. “Grimmjow, I am not in the mood for your ridiculousness.” Why were they even there in the living world? When they slipped off, it was always to an underpopulated area.
Grimmjow’s fingers dug into the meat of Ulquiorra’s hip, and he licked Ulquiorra’s jaw. His voice dropped a few octaves. “Is it really gonna kill you to humor me for twenty minutes?” He grinned. “Re-kill you anyways.”
The press of Grimmjow’s fingers pulled at Ulquiorra’s baser instincts, and he hated how easily the bastard could manipulate him. “It may.”
Grimmjow stood still for a few seconds before he pressed a kiss to Ulquiorra’s hair. “You really are such a bitch.” He turned and used sonido. Someone gasped about wind gusts.
They were being reckless, this close to humans. A shinigami with half a brain would find them if they focused. But Ulquiorra found he didn’t really care. He slipped his hands into the slits of his hakama and faced the mountain. Snow gathered in the bare tree branches and fell around him, settling against his shoulders. He tilted his head and there was another unwanted image searing into his eyes.
He was small, very small, with someone at his side. He could feel a hand in his hair, and a voice in his ear. Their breath was cool, and he could smell something like rot among the chill. The backs of his eyes burned with tears he had long since shed. An ache settled in his chest where his heart had been. Without his permission, his fingers clutched at his collar, right over his throat.
“I’m sorry.”
He was small still but with no one at his side. The snow continued to fall.
The fresh snowfall crunched behind him, filling him with an overwhelming need to run. His fingers tightened at his throat because that was an idiotic need. He was not some weak human, nor a freshly formed hollow. He did not feel fear. His hand slipped away to dangle at his side.
Grimmjow appeared beside him with a lazy smirk. He held up two plastic containers. “You like cake, right?”
The tension in Ulquiorra’s body eased, replaced by something else. He had never expressed a preference to any food, but he really did like sweets. It was an annoying discovery, and not something he indulged in outside of Aizen’s teas. Certainly not something he had told Grimmjow.
A different tightness formed in Ulquiorra’s chest, the sort he attributed to wanting to kiss Grimmjow. Because of cake? “I have no special regards to confections.”
Grimmjow’s shoulders loosened and he hummed. “So, guess I’m eating both pieces.”
Ulquiorra frowned and stepped forward to snatch one of the containers. “I did not say I didn’t want the cake.” Now he had given Grimmjow an admission.
And the asinine panther was well beyond smug, even daring to saunter toward Ulquiorra. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He flicked Ulquiorra’s nose. “It’s chocolate, too, you little sugar fiend. I know you like chocolate pastries better than the others.”
Ulquiorra’s brows dipped. “What?”
Grimmjow tugged Ulquiorra into the air toward one of the buildings. “I gotta say, figuring shit out with you? It’s hard.” Grimmjow plopped down on the edge. “It takes a lot of observing to figure out what stuff you do like.”
“You… observe me?” Ulquiorra blinked, confused. He supposed that made sense considering Grimmjow’s tendency to stalk him.
“Don’t get weird about it, but yeah.” Grimmjow opened his container and prodded at the cake. “I noticed you like chocolate over other sweets because you eat them slower.”
Ulquiorra scrunched his nose. “That is not a well observation, Grimmjow. That could mean I am disinterested in the flavor.” What other things had Grimmjow noticed?
Grimmjow snorted, eyes crinkling. “And I noticed you didn’t like the cocoa today. When you like something, you lick your lips.” He gestured with his fork. “It’s not a normal lick either, it’s smaller, like you’re afraid someone’s going to notice.”
And someone had. Ulquiorra peered down at his cake. It was chocolate on chocolate with little green rosettes. Maybe it would be alright to admit one thing? “I… do like chocolate.” He cut a bite off and ate it. It was good, very good.
Grimmjow’s smugness permeated the air around them. “Was it really that hard to admit that?”
It wouldn’t be that hard to shove Grimmjow off the roof. Sure, he would catch himself without a thought, but it was the principle of the action. Ulquiorra quieted his thoughts by taking another bite of cake. Grimmjow did not deserve an answer, nor did he deserve to see how much Ulquiorra enjoyed the gift. The arrogant creature was already filled with far too much self satisfaction.
They ate in silence, and Ulquiorra found himself scraping the bottom of the container. He swiped his tongue along his upper lip without care. If Grimmjow wanted to make something of it all, Ulquiorra could keep him out of his bed.
Grimmjow chuckled. “You have chocolate on your face.” He tapped the corner of his own mouth.
Ulquiorra frowned and wiped at the spot with his thumb. He lapped the chocolate off and watched Grimmjow’s eyes hood.
“Nope, missed all of it. C’mere.” He took hold of Ulquiorra’s chin, turning his face.
Grimmjow leaned in and Ulquiorra hated how much Grimmjow made him feel like some blushing virgin. Grimmjow’s tongue flicked across his lips. A shudder racked through Ulquiorra, and without a second thought, he pulled Grimmjow into a proper kiss.
Grimmjow grinned against his mouth and threaded his fingers through Ulquiorra’s hair. Ulquiorra parted his lips, and Grimmjow flicked his tongue along Ulquiorra’s teeth, delving deeper.
A groan built in the back of Ulquiorra’s throat, and he rested his hand on Grimmjow’s chest. He pushed him back, but Grimmjow moved forward to chase his mouth. Ulquiorra applied more force. He mumbled, “Not here.”
Grimmjow licked his own lips and motioned toward the sky. The snow had begun to fall heavier around them. “Wanna head back?”
Ulquiorra stood. “Yes.” He flicked his wrist and split the seams between the worlds. Hesitation made Ulquiorra pause before he looked over his shoulder at Grimmjow. It raged a moment longer before he held out his hand.
Grimmjow focused on Ulquiorra’s hand then lifted his eyes to his face. His brows knitted in confusion, no doubt looking for the trick. There was no trick, but if Grimmjow would allow his paranoia free reign, he would not offer again. He began to withdraw his hand when Grimmjow took it. Warmth lit across Ulquiorra’s skin, electric and burning through his veins.
He tugged Grimmjow to his feet, and they moved through the garganta, listening to it seal behind them. The cool chill of the living world left them behind, replaced by the different type of cold of Hueco Mundo.
Ulquiorra did not let go of Grimmjow’s hand while they walked. Instead he laced their fingers and tried to ignore the odd feelings squirming in his guts. There was intimacy in holding hands, far more than sharing a bed or kiss, or even sex itself. Ulquiorra chose to ignore the rough slide of Grimmjow’s callouses, or the fact he squeezed their hands back.
The darkness of the garganta gave way to Ulquiorra’s only slightly brighter bedroom. He released Grimmjow’s hand and walked toward the bed, intent on removing his boots and having the nap he promised himself earlier. Grimmjow’s impatience denied him the chance. A hand flattened between his shoulder blades, and he hit the mattress on his stomach. Ulquiorra turned over to see Grimmjow stalk toward him.
Grimmjow’s lips curved into his nasty smile, and he surged forward. Ulquiorra let out an amused breath when Grimmjow snagged his wrists and pinned him to the bed. The weight of Grimmjow’s body settled on Ulquiorra’s hips, pushing him deeper into the mattress. It felt good, and Ulquiorra arched a little to create some friction.
That earned Ulquiorra a growl, and Grimmjow pressed sharp, biting kisses to his mouth. The grip on Ulquiorra’s wrists released and moved to cup his face. Grimmjow’s tongue invaded Ulquiorra’s mouth until all he could taste was Grimmjow. It made Ulquiorra’s head swim, made every part of him throb with want. Gods he hated how needy the bastard made him feel. His own hands moved to press along Grimmjow’s bare stomach, over his chest, and up to his neck.
Grimmjow pulled away, pupils blown. “What do you want me to do, Ulquiorra?’
The question caught Ulquiorra off guard. Grimmjow had never asked before, he had always taken. A million thoughts ran through Ulquiorra’s head in rapid succession, though none of them seemed right. No, that wasn’t true. They all felt too intimate. He wanted Grimmjow to keep kissing him, to hold him, to fall asleep on his chest. There was so much want in him that he felt sick. When had he become so weak? When had he… Grimmjow was watching him, waiting for an answer.
Ulquiorra had never been the sort to hesitate, but he had also never been the sort to want things either. He slipped his fingers into Grimmjow’s hair and yanked him down for a kiss. It was vicious, matching Grimmjow’s own ferocity with teeth and tongue. The bitter splash of blood touched Ulquiorra’s tongue, and he chased the taste to suck Grimmjow’s bloodied lower lip. Grimmjow groaned into the kiss, rocking his hips against Ulquiorra. His arousal pressed hot against Ulquiorra’s hip.
There was something Ulquiorra wanted. He pulled back long enough to mumble, "I want you to fuck me.”
Grimmjow blinked then flashed his teeth. “Yeah?” He flattened a hand to the bedding near Ulquiorra’s head, mindful of the horn. “You want me to fuck you?”
Ulquiorra wondered for the umpteenth time if bedding Grimmjow was a wise decision. He shifted his weight. “Grimmjow…”
Grimmjow’s claws hooked in Ulquiorra’s jacket and the fabric tore. Before Ulquiorra could protest, the hakama went with a similar rip. Right, bedding the embodiment of destruction. And also a giant cat.
Ulquiorra sat up on his elbows, unimpressed. “You could have let me strip.”
Grimmjow shrugged. “That’s no fun.” He shoved out of his own clothes and pulled the remains of Ulquiorra’s away. He yanked Ulquiorra’s boots off, sending them over a shoulder then his own. Their eyes met while Grimmjow shoved Ulquiorra toward the head of the bed where h settled between Ulquiorra’s thighs. “Besides, I like pissing you off.”
Ulquiorra looked Grimmjow over and weighed the pros and cons of his next actions. He hooked his arms around Grimmjow’s neck, decision made. “Clearly.”
“You know you like it, or you wouldn’t let me do it.” Grimmjow pressed his mouth to Ulquiorra’s neck and bit down.
Ulquiorra hissed, tightening his grip. “Grimmjow…”
Idiot panther would break his teeth before Ulquiorra’s skin. Though now the thought was in Ulquiorra’s head, and he found himself withdrawing his hierro. The pressure of Grimmjow’s teeth changed when he clamped down, and the sting of the bite sent a starburst of pleasure racing through Ulquiorra. Grimmjow went still, and from his peripheral, Ulquiorra could see Grimmjow’s eyes widen in shock.
Ulquiorra smirked and flattened his palm to the back of Grimmjow’s head to keep him in place. They remained stone sill for several long seconds before Grimmjow clamped down at the juncture where Ulquiorra’s throat met shoulder. The skin gave, and Ulquiorra jerked. His cock throbbed, wasting little time in filling. The head scraped against Grimmjow’s stomach with every wriggle he could tear from Ulquiorra.
Grimmjow’s teeth came free and his hot tongue laved against the wounds while Ulquiorra’s regeneration kicked in. Not that it deterred Grimmjow when he pressed his mouth over the fading mark and sucked.
The sensation left Ulquiorra feeling dizzy. His instincts screamed at him, yet he didn’t sink his fingers through Grimmjow’s chest. No, all he did was moan.
Grimmjow pulled away, and by hell itself his eyes were wild. Lust wafted off of him in waves that made it difficult for Ulquiorra to swallow without taking Grimmjow in with him. Red covered Grimmjow’s lips and made him look all the more damning.
“Ulquiorra.” Grimmjow’s voice slashed through whatever remained of Ulquiorra’s cognizance. “Ulquiorra.”
Their mouths pressed together in a clack of teeth that jarred Ulquiorra’s skull. He gasped but sank into the mingled flavors of his own blood and Grimmjow. His fingers caught against the muscles of Grimmjow’s back and he felt himself leave marks across the skin. Grimmjow snarled against his mouth, eyes cloudy but beautiful.
Grimmjow rested both hands on Ulquiorra’s shoulders and shoved back. He licked his lips and then they were on Ulquiorra’s skin again. Blistering, hungry. He devoured a path along Ulquiorra’s collarbones, over his chest, and across his ribs. The sharp flash of teeth made Ulquiorra shout, and the soothing lave of Grimmjow’s tongue quieted him again.
Grimmjow continued his exploration down Ulquiorra’s stomach. He made eye contact before he dipped his tongue into Ulquiorra’s navel. Ulquiorra bucked his hips, and Grimmjow flattened his palms against them, pinning him down. He sucked in a breath while Grimmjow purred at him. Fucking purred! The wretched bastard! But then he was moving down Ulquiorra’s pelvis, and his stupidly wonderful tongue lapped a hot stripe along Ulquiorra’s shaft.
“Grimmjow...”
Grimmjow chuckled and the noise sent shivers rolling through Ulquiorra. Grimmjow lifted his head and his pupils were blown wider. “Hand me the lube.”
What had Ulquiorra let into his bed? He had never felt such an overwhelming need to obey. He played a role for Aizen, but this… Grimmjow… He tugged the bottle from its spot under the pillows and handed it off. Grimmjow took it, brushing their fingers, and sat back on his knees. Ulquiorra shoved up on his elbows and let his legs fall wider apart.
Grimmjow’s eyes sparkled with something dangerous, and his lips spread. He looked sated even before they started, like he had gotten whatever he wanted. Ulquiorra swallowed.
Grimmjow ran his free hand along Ulquiorra’s left thigh. He murmured, “You’re so fucking pretty.” Grimmjow’s skin burned against Ulquiorra’s, feverish. “Still can’t believe you let me touch you.” Grimmjow leaned down to lick a line across Ulquiorra’s thigh.
The muscle quaked, and Ulquiorra bit his lip. “I have the same question for you.”
Grimmjow rumbled a pleased noise and opened the lube. He pressed a hand to Ulquiorra’s chest and drug a pillow over for his hips. Their eyes met while Grimmjow coated his fingers.
Grimmjow tilted his head. “I’ve got a death wish, Ulquiorra, and you’re the only fucker I’d let fuck me.” He teased his fingers against Ulquiorra's rim, grinning wider every time Ulquiorra trembled. “You’re powerful, gorgeous, and you let me fucking do this.” He emphasized “this” by slipping both fingers knuckle deep into Ulquiorra.
Ulquiorra clenched around the intrusion while Grimmjow kissed his knee and nipped the skin. Blood trailed down Ulquiorra’s pale flesh, collecting at the divot where groin met thigh. Grimmjow arched a brow then leaned forward to lap it away. Ulquiorra’s entire body fluttered. His own cock dribbled precum on his stomach.
Ulquiorra swallowed. “I’m surprised.”
“Mmm, don’t be.” Grimmjow curled his fingers inside of Ulquiorra before he withdrew them. He lubed his cock and gave himself a few solid pumps. Ulquiorra’s eyes tracked every motion. He slid a hand down to hold himself open. Grimmjow’s eyes lit with fire and a feral smile while he pressed his head against Ulquiorra. He shoved in and bent over Ulquiorra, groaning, “I like fucking you. A lot.”
Ulquiorra’s eyes widened, and whatever had been on his tongue died at the back of his throat. He arched his hips to help Grimmjow sink to the hilt. Their hips fit together, their bodies connected, and fuck Ulquiorra hated how good it felt. He clawed at Grimmjow’s arms for leverage and panted, trying to regain whatever scraps of his composure that always fled when Grimmjow was naked around him. This was easier when it was him in Grimmjow.
Ever the bastard, Grimmjow only gave Ulquiorra’s insides time to adjust, not his head. He withdrew to the tip then thrust back in. Ulquiorra’s hands dropped to the bedsheets, fisting them tight enough his knuckles ached.
“Grimmjow!” Ulquiorra’s hips arched to meet every motion.
Grimmjow flattened both hands on either side of Ulquiorra’s head, staring into his eyes. Sweat dripped from his nose to splatter against Ulquiorra’s cheek, and the heat between them felt suffocating but so good.
“Love how you feel.” Grimmjow slid a hand down to squeeze Ulquiorra’s hip before he pressed his mouth back to the previously abused section of Ulquiorra’s neck. “And taste.” He bit down.
Ulquiorra let out a strangled noise and clenched around Grimmjow. This was ecstasy, pure and vibrant. Every move Grimmjow made set Ulquiorra’s insides on fire and made him feel… full.
The fingers at his hip moved up to dig into his ribs then higher to his other shoulder. Grimmjow never slowed his efforts or let up when he bit Ulquiorra again. The bed gave a single, ominous groan when Grimmjow smacked the headboard against the wall. Ulquiorra shuddered and wrapped an arm around Grimmjow’s neck and a leg around his waist.
Grimmjow’s teeth came free of his neck and whispered, “Ulquiorra” before they found his mouth again.
Ulquiorra sank into the kiss and felt Grimmjow’s hand searching. It roamed his stomach, teased his cock, smeared calloused fingers through precum, and moved up to circle those dirty fingers around the edge of Ulquiorra’s hollow hole.
Ulquiorra whimpered into Grimmjow’s mouth. His bangs stuck to his face from sweat, and he knew when they finally broke apart they would be a sticky mess. Not that he cared then, he only wanted more.
Grimmjow’s teeth scraped Ulquiorra’s jaw, split his lower lip. The rough suction of Grimmjow’s mouth and the rhythmic thrust of his hips made Ulquiorra’s head feel foggy. He didn’t even feel Grimmjow’s mouth leave his.
Not until teeth were over his windpipe, buried in his throat.
Ulquiorra let out a noise he had never heard himself make. Every muscle clenched around Grimmjow, his own claws flashing to shred the skin of Grimmjow’s back.
Instead of being sensible, Grimmjow laughed. He withdrew his teeth and lapped at the marks. “Ah, you like that?”
Ulquiorra’s simplistic hollow nature screamed at him to rip Grimmjow’s head from his shoulders. To carve his hand through his chest. To never let him do that again. What else resided in Ulquiorra only demanded he repeat it.
Ulquiorra rattled out, “Yes.”
Grimmjow purred against Ulquiorra’s broken skin, lapping at the wounds like a starving animal. It occurred to Ulquiorra that Grimmjow could tear his throat out. That he could be devoured like this, but that thought disappeared into the ether with all the other strange thoughts of the day when Grimmjow kissed his lips again.
The kiss was chaste in comparison, but it didn’t last. Grimmjow sank his teeth into Ulquiorra’s lip again, but he didn't drink. He pulled back and bit his own lip, pressing their bloodied mouths together in a much slower, though still deep, kiss.
He’s… he’s marking me. He’s trying to claim me.
The realization trickled through Ulquiorra, but while he thought it would disgust him, he found the opposite. His fingers, the claws receded, dug into Grimmjow’s slick shoulders, and he hissed against the probing tongue in his mouth. He shifted his hips to wrap the other leg around Grimmjow.
He wanted Grimmjow, he wanted the marks, the violence. He wanted.
Ulquiorra had never wanted anything before.
The danger of over indulgence lingered in his mind, but he didn’t care. He wanted this, all of it. Every last drop. Even if it killed him.
His hand slid up to find Grimmjow’s fingers and pulled them to his aching cock. Grimmjow made a soft noise, his lips gone lax against Ulquiorra’s mouth. He let out a little huff of breath before he wrapped his hand around Ulquiorra’s own and began to pump him in time with his thrusts.
Ulquiorra shivered and settled one leg back against the bedding to keep himself leveraged. He shivered, stomach fluttering. He wouldn’t last, couldn’t. Didn’t even want to.
“Fuck, Ulquiorra.” Grimmjow squeezed their hands and sped up. “Come on, little bat. Cum for me.” The rasp in his voice sounded so sweet.
It was enough to yank Ulquiorra over his edge. He spilled over both their hands, his entire body locking up before going blissfully lax against the bedding. His insides fluttered around Grimmjow who kept fucking into him.
Grimmjow dropped both hands to Ulquiorra’s hips and slammed into him once, twice. The slight ache of Grimmjow abusing Ulquiorra’s prostate only made the sparks coursing through his blood that much better. Grimmjow didn’t take but a few more seconds to finish inside him, and a truly pathetic mewl tumbled past Ulquiorra’s lips. He didn't have the energy to be embarrassed.
He watched Grimmjow pant over him from under his lashes. The thrum of Grimmjow’s body began to subside, and he smiled at Ulquiorra. A genuine smile, not one filled with teeth or malice. Something soft and gentle.
“Hey.” Grimmjow lifted his hand to brush Ulquiorra’s sweaty bangs aside. He leaned down to kiss Ulquiorra’s aching lips.
Ulquiorra didn’t have the energy to commit to the kiss, and Grimmjow didn’t seem to either. He dropped across Ulquiorra, nuzzling against his neck. Ulquiorra grunted from the weight, but allowed it. The affection was warm and welcome and he traced his fingers along Grimmjow’s sides and his shoulder. The wounds he inflicted had sealed at least.
Now that they had gone still, tiredness soaked into Ulquiorra. He even dared to yawn.
Grimmjow laughed and turned to peer at Ulquiorra. “So you can get tired.” He smiled, eyes crinkled. He wriggled closer until he was completely on top of Ulquiorra and nosed his ear. “Happy birthday, asshole.”
Right, the whole thing that started this. Ulquiorra looked away and stroked his fingers through sweaty, blue hair. Grimmjow drifted off to sleep in a matter of seconds. It was... impressive. Alarming even.
I’ve never let someone so close before.
Ulquiorra examined the thought and found some fear tangled in it. How idiotic. Just because he let Grimmjow close didn’t mean anything. He enjoyed their time, their shared space. He enjoyed the sex. He enjoyed… he looked at Grimmjow’s face and the way he nuzzled closer to Ulquiorra. He enjoyed this.
What they had may not have made sense, but Ulquiorra had no intention of letting it go without gnashing his teeth against something.
There was no use in thinking about it any longer. Ulquiorra shut his eyes and let Grimmjow’s purring lull him to sleep. There were no more memories behind his eyes, no more feelings of being cold. Warmth swallowed him, and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.