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Ichigo collapsed into the pillows, coated in spend and sweat, exhausted as all hell. Grimmjow could really be demanding when his dick was in the mood for it. He wasn't even close to rut, and yet he insisted they go three rounds that night.
All Ichigo wanted to do was shower and go to bed. Unfortunately, Grimmjow didn't seem to be done yet.
The asshole tried to be subtle, but he should know damn well that omegas could easily pick up on scent marking.
Ichigo snatched the wrists that were rubbing against his skin.
"Could you keep your hormones in check?" he snapped. "No marking. Rule number one."
Grimmjow heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I know. Too tired to think."
Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Well, we're not mated. So quit it."
"We could change that."
Ichigo would have to concede that Grimmjow might have been too tired to stamp down on his alpha instincts. He had to have been, with a remark like that. Even though it was his own goddamn fault.
Not that it was the first time such a comment had been made.
"Nope." Ichigo popped the "p" sound. He shoved hard enough that Grimmjow fell to his side on the scratchy, hotel bedding. "You're getting some sleep."
Grumbling, Grimmjow curled in on himself but outstretched one leg, flexing the toes. He was like a fucking cat.
Ichigo, at the very least, had to admit that Grimmjow was easier to deal with in this state. Were he coherent, he would have argued the hormones comment to hell and back, likely ending in a fist fight between them.
But, when exhausted like this, Grimmjow was strangely…compliant.
Ichigo stood from the bed and stretched, groaning in relief. He padded into the bathroom and ran the hot water in the shower. The urge to use all the available products and leave Grimmjow with nothing to cleanse himself with was strong.
He nearly did it.
The inevitable headache from an irate Grimmjow stopped him. If only it wasn't Ichigo's turn to drive the tour van tomorrow.
Ichigo ran the shampoo through his natural spikes in the front and over the half of his head that was buzz-cut. Once that was rinsed, he followed it up by weaving conditioner through the length of his mullet in the back. His hair was nearly halfway down his shoulder blades, now.
He reveled in the hot water washing away the disgust of the evening. Not just the sex, but the sweat from the concert prior.
Hollowed Kings was currently halfway through tour, and they just finished up the biggest show of the run. Kyōto was always a blast. The crowds were wild, they screamed loud enough to be heard through the earpieces, and they always cried for multiple encores. After this show, they planned to wind down the lineup with shows in the countryside, which were more intimate and less demanding.
Once Ichigo had thoroughly scrubbed his body clean of the filth, the water washed it away down the drain. He stepped out of the shower and dressed in the clothes he arrived in. The shirt was cold and damp with sweat, but he'd be changing out of it again soon enough.
At least he wouldn't have to attempt to wash dry, caked-on cum out of it.
He left the bathroom and his gaze went to the bed. Grimmjow was in much the same position that Ichigo'd left him in. His face was pillowed on his bicep, and he was snoring softly.
It was five years ago, shortly after the formation of Hollowed Kings, that they had begun a sexual relationship. It was never recommended—in fact, it was usually argued against—to start fucking a coworker, even casually.
They never planned on it. It was just that on their very first tour, Ichigo ran out of suppressants and went into sudden heat. Grimmjow helped him through the worst of it that night, and got him an emergency supply of suppressants the following day. They then had an agreement to be heat/rut partners, and eventually it blossomed into casual sex.
They had rules. One should always have rules. The first one they made was restricting any type of instinctual mating or claiming actions. No biting, no scent-marking, no possessive attitude should another omega or alpha show interest. It was supposed to keep their hormones in check, to keep ties loose.
Grimmjow was starting to push that boundary, bit by bit.
Ichigo sighed and left the room, walking down the hallway to the room he shared with his twin brother, Kurosaki Mamoru, stage name Zangetsu. The moment he entered the room, Mamoru clapped his hands over his ears and yelled, "I don't wanna know!"
An eyebrow quirked, and Ichigo retorted, "When have I ever shared anything?"
"I just don't want you to start! I've been free for five years!"
Ichigo rolled his eyes and allowed the door to shut. He stripped off his shirt as he walked to his suitcase.
Mamoru heaved a sigh before asking, "What happened?"
Freezing in the middle of grabbing pajamas, Ichigo looked at his twin. "What do you mean?"
"You look like a kicked puppy. I hate that look."
"What if that's just my face?"
"You and I know damn well that is not 'just your face'."
Ichigo clicked his teeth, glaring at his twin. Mamoru was right, there was something on his mind. But, how could he bring it up? He pondered it as he changed. Once in his pajamas, he laid outstretched on the other bed.
"Grimmjow…" Ichigo took a deep breath. "He tried scent marking me."
"That prick. Did you kick him in the dick for it?"
"What? No!" Ichigo looked at Mamoru with a horrified gaze.
"That's how I know you're going soft. Anyone else try that, and that would be your first response."
"Well, we have rules!"
"And is scent-marking against those rules?"
Ichigo's gaze fell as he nodded.
"Warrants a dick kicking."
"He was tired. We went thr—"
"Sweet Jesus, I do not want to hear about it!" Mamoru chucked a sock at Ichigo's head.
"Ack!" Ichigo caught the sock before it smacked him in the face and chucked it to the other side of the room. "I'm just saying he'd be tired after that!"
"Did you at least give him a talking to?"
"I told him that since we're not mated, to quit."
"And?" Mamoru looked at Ichigo expectantly.
"He…" Why was his face burning up suddenly? "He said 'We could change that'."
Mamoru clapped a hand to his face. "You two are fucking idiots."
"Why am I being roped into that?"
"Questioning that is all the more reason you should be included."
That was the end of the conversation, as Mamoru rolled over, facing away from Ichigo, and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. Ichigo sighed and turned off the lamp.
He hardly got any sleep that night.
⋆˚🐾˖°
It had been another year since that night. Ichigo wished he could say that he'd almost forgotten about the scent-marking incident, but the truth was, it was becoming all the more common.
Ichigo stopped it every time, and every time Grimmjow would have the same response.
"We could change that."
Ichigo huffed and squeezed his phone, which had a message from said annoyance. He was close to snapping the damn thing in half, but decided against it for his own sake. It would be a hassle to get a new phone on tour.
What the hell was Grimmjow's problem?
They had a good thing going. It was easy, understandable, not complicated in the slightest. So, Grimmjow was an alpha. So, Ichigo was an omega. That didn't mean that anything about their current relationship had to change.
If Grimmjow wanted to fuck someone else, he was more than welcome to. Hell, if Grimmjow showed up one day with his perfect submissive, simpering omega mate, Ichigo would simply move on.
Fuck, he really needed to pick up some antacids. He blamed the fried food Grimmjow demanded for lunch.
Ichigo refused to entertain the thoughts about a life mated to Grimmjow. With how dominant that man was in the bedroom and on stage, it was clear what type of alpha he was. It would be nothing but a living hell.
"Yo, King," Mamoru called out.
Ichigo set his phone down on the table in their green room and spun around.
"Time for our set," Mamoru explained.
Ichigo nodded. "R-Right."
Mamoru quirked a pale eyebrow, but didn't make a comment. Ichigo silently gave his thanks as he followed his twin to the stage.
It was the last show of the tour celebrating their third album release. Osaka was waiting for them to put on one hell of a show. Ichigo squared his shoulders.
Never mind his problems. He was going to perform at his best, no matter what may be plaguing him.
His earpieces started their steady, "tick, tick, tick," as the four members of the band went onstage.
Nelliel, Grimmjow's little sister, held her drumstick aloft, Grimmjow grabbed the microphone and roared, Mamoru had already flung a pick into the crowd—throwing his bass strap over his head, and Ichigo struck the first chord of the song on his trusty guitar.
It had been with him since the beginning, but it showed hardly any wear and tear. He cared for Getsuga as if it was a son, though he did have several other, newer guitars at his disposal.
He forced himself to focus on the music, the way his fingers flew over the neck of his instrument. He watched the crowd; the moshing, the circle pits, the crowd surfing.
His attention rarely drifted over to his vocalist. He didn't think about the text asking him to celebrate the end of the tour. He refused to entertain the possibilities of what could occur; what rules would be broken later that night.
He simply played his heart out, as he did every show.
Emptying his pockets of every pick left in his stash, Ichigo bid farewell to their fans. He even wiped his sweat with one of the small towels provided and tossed that into the crowd. It was something their manager, one sleazebag Urahara Kisuke, insisted they do. Ichigo thought it disgusting, but followed the guidance regardless.
They left the stage after a full set plus two encores.
Ichigo was exhausted, but the night was far from over. Nelliel had demanded they go out and celebrate, and even booked the tables at a nearby izakaya.
There was also the matter of a certain blue-haired asshole asking for his attention tonight as well. He heaved a sigh as he grabbed his belongings from the green room, assisting their roadies in cleaning up what he could.
Once their stage was packed away in the truck, instruments carefully tucked into one of the vans, they finally left to party.
The izakaya was cozy and dimly lit, a place for a melancholic office worker to drink away their woes. It was unprepared for the energy a band and crew would bring along, and the scorned stares they received from the other patrons relayed that fact.
That didn't deter Ichigo's bandmates, as they happily took their seats at one of the tables. Nelliel and Mamoru took one side, leaving Ichigo to sit next to Grimmjow. As he took his spot, Ichigo threw a glare at his brother.
While he left out as much information as possible, he had kept Mamoru up-to-date with the situation. Asshole planned to do this.
Mamoru simply winked before turning to the waitress.
The anger flared up once again in Ichigo, especially as he felt the press of a knee against his. It led to him ordering heavier alcohol than he normally would.
Many, many drinks later, and Ichigo was leaning heavily on Grimmjow as they walked into his hotel room. Grimmjow stumbled at one point close to the bed, and he near-tossed a giggling Ichigo onto the comforter.
"Grimm," Ichigo called.
"What?" Grimmjow snapped.
"Let me see your phone."
"Why the hell should I do that?"
"I need something to get me in the mood," Ichigo explained, his hips shifting.
"Use your own damn phone."
"It's dead." Ichigo's lip puffed into a pout as he stared into swirling, cerulean depths.
Grimmjow sighed. "Fine." He dropped his phone into Ichigo's outstretched hand. "It better not be anything weird."
"You say that like you don't call me 'the most vanilla fuck you've ever had'."
Grimmjow barked a laugh. "You're the one who keeps telling me to be honest with my feelings."
"Not when you're being rude!"
"Is it really rude if I'm trying to help you better yourself?"
Ichigo harrumphed and rolled to the side, facing away from Grimmjow. The other man laughed once more, and Ichigo could hear the shuffling of clothing.
"—favorite flavor—"
"Hm?" Ichigo peeked over his shoulder.
"Nothing," Grimmjow clipped. "Ain't you gonna look up some porn?"
Ichigo went back to the phone. Indeed, that was what he planned to do.
Going to his usual site, he noticed that there was an account already signed in. Oh ho ho…insight into Grimmjow's porn preferences?
Don't mind if I do. Ichigo thought as he pulled up the history.
"Wait—"
Grimmjow's cry came too late.
"Alpha knot stepped on."
"Blindfolded alpha gets railed."
"Choking my alpha while cumming on his face."
What the fuck?
"It's not—"
Grimmjow stopped when Ichigo flew upright—causing his head to spin.
Thousands of images flew through Ichigo's mind. Grimmjow tied to a bed. Grimmjow with a cage on his cock. Grimmjow submitting to Ichigo.
The overwhelm of pheromones, the assertive nature, and the peacocking all painted a wildly different picture than what was currently on the screen. He'd heard of submissive alphas before, even met some himself, but never in his wildest dreams would he ever imagine Grimmjow being one of them.
His heart beat like a damn drum in his ribcage. For the last year—
No.
For far longer than that he'd been denying himself the opportunity to dream of them as mates. He'd been denying the way his very soul cried out for the man frozen behind him.
The only thing holding it all back was the, now-false, assurance that being mated to Grimmjow would be nothing but a living hell.
"You're creeping me the fuck out here," Grimmjow stated.
Ichigo slid off the bed and turned towards the alpha. There was indeed a growing fear souring the air.
Ignoring it, Ichigo stomped over to Grimmjow, fisted the man's shirt, and yanked them together.
Ichigo wrapped his other arm around Grimmjow's neck and forcibly pried open the plush lips that had utterly tormented him some nights. He greedily swallowed down the surprised grunt and the needy mewls as his tongue explored every crevice of that annoying, but heavenly mouth.
As hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt and their hips grinded against each other, Ichigo understood that he had to make this annoying asshole his and his alone.
"Idiot. Stupid—fucking—alpha—" Ichigo grunted between ravenous kisses as he slammed Grimmjow onto the bed.
⋆˚🐾˖°
Three weeks later, Grimmjow was bent over and bound under Ichigo's authority—a natural progression, all things considered.
In the morning after the kiss, and the activities that followed, Ichigo had asked why this side of Grimmjow had been kept hidden for so long. It should have been expected that the answer would include many swears and attempts to gut Ichigo.
While it was his ultimate desire, to be dominated and forced to relinquish control, Grimmjow certainly didn't make it easy.
He was a brat, through and through. He challenged Ichigo, pushing further and further until there was no choice left than to show just how terrifying a dom could be. Then, once shown that Ichigo could very well handle him, he finally gave in and obeyed every command.
Grimmjow's task tonight was simple; hold Ichigo's glass of wine and prevent a single drop from spilling. Granted, it might prove difficult with the way he was on his stomach—hands bound together behind his back, chest pillowed on Ichigo's thigh, and his nose burrowed in Ichigo's ass. Ichigo's other leg rested over his neck, and occasionally assisted in helping Grimmjow get closer to the scent he was practically drooling over.
And didn't Ichigo just feel like the classiest omega, sipping wine in his underwear with a desperate alpha between his legs. He hummed a tune to himself, practically shaking with triumph and glee.
Even when he'd had Grimmjow pinned against the wall—taking the alpha apart with teeth, tongue, and a thigh grinding into a trapped dick—he'd wondered if he was making the right decision to give into the piss-poor attempt at courting over some porn. But then, later that night, as he'd ridden that thick cock, he wrapped his hand around that elegant throat and Grimmjow instantly came.
That one singular moment had cemented in Ichigo's mind that this truly was everything Grimmjow had wanted.
They probably should have dated—hell, they should have talked it out at the very least—but Ichigo had been overwhelmed with every thought and emotion he'd ever repressed about Grimmjow, and his only option to release them was biting that neck. He'd claimed his alpha that night and allowed himself to be claimed in return.
And Ichigo hadn't regretted the decision since, not even when Nelliel and Mamoru were gloating that they knew it was only a matter a time, and certainly not when Grimmjow silently begged to be put in his place.
Ichigo's father was incredibly happy when he heard the news, as he'd been making remarks about his son finding a "worthy alpha" and mating for some time now. It disgusted Ichigo every time it was brought up, but he knew that somewhere in there, his old man meant well.
While Ichigo had spared the specifics of why it had only happened now, he did spin a properly sappy tale of realized feelings to satisfy his dad. It wasn't embellished, per se—in fact, Ichigo left out far more than he added in—but it was enough for his dad to grab the tissues and welcome Grimmjow into the family.
His sisters had cheered, more-so because now Nelliel was part of the family. The joy over Ichigo's mating with Grimmjow was short-lived and summarized with a quick, "About time". Yuzu had immediately called Nelliel, excitedly calling her, "Onee-chan", which, of course, Nelliel squealed about the rest of the day.
Ichigo's bond mark tingled in response to his thoughts, and he brushed his fingers over the scarred indents in wonder. It was taking some time to get used to the new sensations and seeing the visible claim on his skin in the mirror. Grimmjow could hardly leave it alone—kissing, licking, and nuzzling it every chance he got. It was overbearing, but Ichigo allowed the near-constant affection with only the slightest show of resistance.
Ichigo wondered if it was merely his instincts that made the attention from his mate so addictive, or if the growing love he refused to nurture for so long was also playing a part.
He picked up his glass, and Grimmjow fidgeted—hips rutting into the blanket, shoulders squirming, and neck craning to burrow his nose further into slick-soaked underwear.
Ichigo brought the leg resting on Grimmjow's neck ever-so-slightly closer, smirking when his alpha moaned from the assistance. He finished off his first glass and grabbed the bottle from the nightstand to refill, setting his book down with a simple dog ear to mark the spot.
The moment Grimmjow registered the weight of the glass back in his palms, he stilled. His fingers wrapped around the base best they could, and Ichigo greedily watched the wine sloshing inside the bowl, wanting to catch even the smallest splash over the rim.
When the wine settled without even a single drop spilling, a low purr rumbled in Ichigo's throat. He was immensely pleased with how obedient Grimmjow currently was, and he leaked more because of it. Sharp whimpers reached his ears as the smell of fresh slick tormented Grimmjow further.
Ichigo picked up his book again, opening the marked page but having no recollection of where he left off. He picked a random spot and attempted to read, but he could hardly concentrate anymore—he'd have to reread the whole chapter at this rate. The fact simply was that the man between his legs, inhaling his scent like it was the most heavenly candle in the store, was by far more worthy of his attention. Xylo Forbarts's scourge against the Faeries could wait.
Despite hardly registering the words, Ichigo still turned the pages. He had to keep up appearances after all. He couldn't let Grimmjow know that he was the only thing on Ichigo's mind—that would be too much power for the alpha currently at the mercy of his omega.
Deep inhales, hushed growls, and needy whimpers became the soundtrack as Ichigo "read" on and sipped his wine. He could only imagine what his expression must have been, for his cheeks were hurting from the force of his grin.
Grimmjow hadn't changed, he was still an annoying asshole in many aspects, but he'd slipped into his new role more effortlessly than Ichigo could have ever imagined.
Ichigo contemplated the last gulp of wine in his glass, swirling it to see how the light of the lamp danced in the deep liquid's surface. A particularly drawn-out keen had a tingle zipping up his spine, and he decided he was done reading for the night.
Ichigo clapped the book shut with far more force than would ever be necessary, and Grimmjow immediately stiffened. It was a wonder if he was even breathing. But then, the book was audibly set on the nightstand, and a slurred chanting of, "Please, please, please," accompanied subtle shifting—Grimmjow trying to behave.
Ichigo hummed as he moved the leg resting over Grimmjow's neck, ignoring the stiffness from having been in the same position for so long. Once his foot was solidly on the blanket, he commanded a simple, "Up."
It took Grimmjow nary a moment to do so, that core strength showing itself, and sat back on his heels. Oh, what a lovely picture he painted.
Flushed cheeks, blown-out pupils, and a tongue peeking out to chase the taste of Ichigo that seeped into his skin. The rosy color flooding his face and trickling down his neck complimented the deep indigo of his t-shirt quite nicely, and the charcoal denim on his legs paired well with Ichigo's cool-grey sheets.
Ichigo was sorely tempted to grab his phone and take a picture, but his own impatience won out.
He crooked a single finger, beckoning his mate closer. Grimmjow shuffled forward on his knees until they brushed against Ichigo's.
Ichigo reached down with his free hand, slipping it into his soaked underwear and swiping some of his own slick with two fingers. He brought them up and held them in front of Grimmjow's face—parting them slightly to show off the way the viscous fluid spread into strands, but never truly separated.
Grimmjow's eyes darkened to a dangerous, all-too-thrilling ebony. His gulp was audible, and Ichigo greedily watched the way that Adam's apple bounced. Heavy breaths danced along soaked skin as Grimmjow tried to practically huff the slick from Ichigo's fingers.
"If you can't satisfy me with your tongue," Ichigo murmured, "then I won't let you satisfy me with your dick." A growl escaped Grimmjow and Ichigo asked, "Are you willing to take that risk?"
Grimmjow nodded with the certainty of a soldier.
Ichigo smiled, as he knew Grimmjow wouldn't be able to resist. "That's a good pet." He gripped a sharp chin. "Now open that pretty mouth for me."
Grimmjow obeyed with relish, his tongue sticking out with a flourish. Filthy fingers slipped inside, and a visible shudder rolled down his spine. He moaned, and his eyes rolled back into his skull as if the very essence of God Itself was being spread on his tongue.
It might not have been a bad thing, to be worshipped like this.
Grimmjow devoted himself wholeheartedly to his heart's desires. A sick, twisted passion to be seen as worthier than any other that knew no bounds. No matter whom he may tear down in his path, he would prove to all that he'd earned his right to perform, to be Ichigo's mate.
Ichigo should have allowed himself to see it earlier, how there was none more deserving to be by his side for eternity than the man currently sucking on his fingers as if they were a divine blessing. He swore to himself in that moment that he'd rectify the mistake, repent for his past transgressions, and prove to Grimmjow that it was just as tantalizing to be the one worshipped.
For now, though, until the time was right to demonstrate his piety for the alpha before him, Ichigo decided to indulge in Grimmjow's own sacrament instead.
He removed his fingers from that hopelessly addictive mouth, his heart aching at the pitiful whine that slipped from his mate. He gently shushed Grimmjow, using a guiding hand to lay the alpha on his back—which arched so enticingly above his still-bound hands. Those alluring abs were revealed more and more as the fabric of his shirt shifted and bunched from the position.
Ichigo's eyes roamed over the supine form of his mate as he fidgeted with the glass in his hand once again. He wondered if Grimmjow would like some wine to pair with the meal he was about to consume.
Ichigo took it all into his own mouth first, swirling it on his tongue as he leaned over Grimmjow. He dipped down, carefully sealing their lips together and prying Grimmjow's open ever-so-slowly—allowing the wine to trickle into his mate's mouth.
Wine splashed against Ichigo's skin as Grimmjow struggled to simultaneously drink and kiss, desperate to imbibe both flavors at once.
When the last drop fell into Grimmjow's mouth, Ichigo broke the kiss with a chuckle. He licked stray droplets and trails from Grimmjow's skin—one last moment to be clean before things get really filthy.
Unable to resist, Ichigo meandered south, pressing open-mouthed kisses along a sharp jawline and then trailing further. Once his lips brushed against a rougher texture, he pulled back.
He stared at that long, elegant neck and the indents of his own teeth marring the skin. Whenever he allowed himself to stare at the mark for longer than a moment, his heart tapped a strange little tune, one slightly off-beat—as if it was a lone instrument missing its accompaniment.
His fingers found Grimmjow's pulse, and he listened to the rhapsody their hearts performed for an audience of two. It might become his favorite song to date, and his throat tightened the longer it played.
He dipped his head and touched his lips to the bond mark in what was meant to be a brief, but tender kiss. However, he was unable to pull himself away, as the heat emanating from the mark tingled on his skin, and it was hopelessly entrancing.
Kiss after kiss was pressed into the skin, Ichigo's lips parting slightly further with each one until his tongue slips between them. His fingers haven't left Grimmjow's pulse, and it was clear how it quickened its tempo as Ichigo brushed the tip of his tongue into each scarred indent. He wondered if his own matched the beat, but he was too enraptured by Grimmjow's shallowing breaths to focus his attention elsewhere.
His other hand traveled to his own waist, and his thumb slipped into the waistband of ruined underwear. He took his time slipping it down as his mouth continued to focus on Grimmjow's neck. It caught around his knees, still pressed into the mattress, but that was fine, as the burst of his own aroma releasing into the air had the desired effect.
Frantic whining caressed his eardrums, and his mate writhed beneath him. Ichigo finally pulled away from the bond mark just in time to see Grimmjow plant his feet on the bed for easier leverage to rut his hips into nothing.
Ichigo couldn't deny the pure eroticism of how desperate Grimmjow was. It made him impatient, and he stripped his underwear off before chucking it to some nondescript corner of the room. He could find it later. There were more important things to care about.
"Are you ready?" Ichigo whispered, already knowing the answer.
"Yes," Grimmjow breathed.
Still wanting to rile his alpha up further, Ichigo took his time shuffling up the bed and swinging his leg over Grimmjow's face. He adjusted his position, hovering mere inches above a waiting mouth, making sure he had a nice view of Grimmjow's clothed crotch and exposed abs.
"Ichigo," Grimmjow pleaded.
Ichigo dropped the slightest bit, gasping when the tip of a tongue brushed the rim of his twitching hole.
He should punish Grimmjow for being so impatient. He absolutely could, but his body went against the thought. He dropped with a grunt, forcing Grimmjow's head to the bed.
Grimmjow didn't immediately dive in, much to Ichigo's surprise. Instead, he lapped up the slick coating Ichigo's skin. Filthy, open-mouthed kisses laved over Ichigo's entrance again and again.
Breathy little moans escaped Ichigo as his cock jumped, the fabric of his tank top providing the barest amount of friction. How was the sensation of Grimmjow practically making out with Ichigo's ass far more scandalous than anything else they'd done thus far?
The tip of that devilish tongue teased Ichigo on every swipe, dipping in for only a fraction of a second. It was causing the practiced grip he had on his sanity to fray, his hips rolling of their own accord.
Precum beaded on the tip of his dick, and more slick dripped from him. He focused on the buzzing beneath his skin—giving into the fuzziness of alcohol and pheromones.
Shit, he'd never gotten this wet outside of heat before.
He planted one hand on the body beneath him, the heat of Grimmjow's skin evident through the thin t-shirt. He reached behind and buried his other hand in bright blue hair, fisting the fluffy locks and immobilizing his eager pet.
Ichigo grinded down harshly, enough that Grimmjow gasped for air and his feet lost leverage on the sheets, scrambling frantically in attempt to regain the traction. Yet, when Ichigo lifted himself, a whimper of protest followed.
Ichigo grinned, hungry and heady from the desperation of his mate. Through gritted teeth he snarled, "Consume me."
A sharp gasp escaped Grimmjow, and he dived in with relish. Ichigo purred, pleased as he heard the clicks of Grimmjow swallowing his slick.
"Good boy," he praised.
A vicious growl vibrated up Ichigo's spine, and Grimmjow finally managed to replant his feet firmly enough to buck his clothed hips into the air. Distressed whines and harsh snarls were broken by gasps for air or audible gulps. Grimmjow was incapable of sitting still—every single inch of him strained or struggled.
Ichigo wondered what could have his alpha so worked up, as even during rut Grimmjow was never this feral. It was then that he caught sight of the taut crotch, and the large bulge trapped by the denim.
Holy shit…did he…?
Ichigo had to know. He dropped hold of Grimmjow's hair and leaned forward, reaching out to the button that looked to be one thrust away from snapping into his forehead. It took a couple moments as Ichigo fought to maintain his balance and position, but eventually, the fabric released its deathly grip on the metal.
The zipper tore open, and a desperate cry echoed from underneath Ichigo as Grimmjow's dick was finally exposed to the room. Ichigo stared in awe at that thick cock—bright red, leaking like a fountain, and the base bulbous and full.
Grimmjow fucking knotted untouched.
Ichigo reached out, gingerly cradling the tip in his palm while his middle finger stretched to tease the edge of the knot. Precum dribbled down his hand, dropping off his forefinger onto the heated skin below.
He pulled himself off of Grimmjow's face, the wet suction causing his dick to jump. Oh, he couldn't wait to see what he had done to his mate. He still took his time moving off of Grimmjow, though, wanting to draw it out as long as possible. He carefully shifted forward, shifting his ass this way and that to display what his mate was now denied.
The cock in front of his face practically called out to Ichigo, and he followed its pleading, leaning in to bless the leaking slit with a kiss. He only allowed himself a couple lingering pecks and one firm swipe of the tongue before he pulled away—leaving his mate's tangy precum on his lips.
The frantic vocalizations proved that Ichigo's teasing did its job. Grimmjow seemed to have lost all vocabulary, only growling and whining in a pathetic attempt to be crushed beneath Ichigo's ass once more.
Ichigo wasn't entirely heartless, and only allowed the begging to go on for a few moments before he finally turned. Oh, what a perfect sight he was greeted with, as Grimmjow's wild eyes were shining with tears. Ichigo's slick a thick coating on his skin.
"Don't worry," Ichigo whispered as he braced himself above Grimmjow—the heady scent of himself and his mate turning the edges of his vision fuzzy. "Good little whores get rewarded."
"Ich—"
Grimmjow attempted to call out, but it was broken with a roar when Ichigo wrapped one hand around Grimmjow's knot.
"It's such a pretty little thing," Ichigo cooed. "I think it's begging to be played with just as much as you are, isn't it?'
A frantic nod answered him.
"You're just missing one last touch." Ichigo released Grimmjow's cock, ignoring the disobedient protest, and grabbed two items from the nightstand.
Only a couple days after they mated, Ichigo purchased these on a whim from a local hole-in-the-wall shop. They'd proven themselves handy, even from the very first night he'd brought them to Grimmjow's.
A matching, purple collar and leash with silver clasps and rings.
Ichigo unbuckled the collar and slipped it around Grimmjow's throat, placing it just so that most of his bond mark was still visible. It wasn't like it entirely mattered in the grand scheme of tonight's plan, but the pride coursing through Ichigo's veins enhanced the arousal searing in his core.
Pinpoint pupils drilled into him as Ichigo wrapped the leash around his hand. He fisted the leather with an iron grip and pulled—firm enough to command Grimmjow to rise, thick cock bobbing pathetically as he rolled onto his knees without resistance.
"What a good little slut," Ichigo mused. "So desperate for your reward, hm?"
Grimmjow's hips answered, twitching in a feeble attempt to fuck the air surrounding them.
Ichigo hummed, endlessly pleased. He decided that they'd both been waiting long enough and assumed his favorite position. He faced the headboard, spread his knees wide and stable, and leaned forward to pillow his chest on one arm—the other yanking on the leash and forcing Grimmjow to scramble behind him.
The desperation was tangible in the air, the space between them cracking and their bodies yearning to join as one. The weight of Grimmjow's head settled between Ichigo's shoulder blades and even that little amount of contact had them moaning soft and long.
Ichigo couldn't hold on any longer, his thoughts barely managed to trudge through the heady arousal numbing his mind. He took a deep breath further tightened his grip on the leash, and commanded, "Mount."
A piercing growl rattled around them as Grimmjow's hips thrusted forward. Ichigo was so utterly soaked that the yearning cock slipped, sliding up and missing the hole entirely. Grimmjow pathetically whimpered as he feebly attempted to fuck into Ichigo while his hands were still bound behind his back.
Ichigo readjusted, reaching around with the hand still wrapped in the leash, temporarily loosening his grip in order to grab searing velvet and guide it inside. His precarious balance was toppled by a vicious thrust, and he struggled to get his elbow braced once more in the sheets.
Grimmjow somehow had the sense of mind to prevent his knot from slamming in on the first go, but he still punched staccato moans out of Ichigo with off-beat thrusts. The amount of core strength required for Grimmjow to fuck so forcefully with only his braced forehead for leverage was downright erotic.
Ichigo keened as he thought about the way Grimmjow's abs must have been shifting and bulging. Oh, how he couldn't wait to stretch out every sore muscle of his mate's tomorrow.
The stretch as Grimmjow slammed in over and over again had Ichigo's eyes rolling back into his skull. He tried to keep his grip on the leash, but the persistent tease of that knot threatening to breach was too much for him to handle.
His knees spread wider, attempting to show his mate how badly he wanted to take everything Grimmjow could give to him. He wanted to be speared, sliced in two, thoroughly fucked on Grimmjow's cock for the rest of eternity.
His bonding mark burned like a fresh brand, and the coil in his core tightened to a dangerous point. He was moments away from snapping and shattering into a million pieces. His legs trembled hard enough to shake the entire bed.
Every fiber of his being was thrumming, and a shout bursted from him on the next thrust. That knot pressed against him more firmly, stretching him further and nearly breaching past the rim. It was delicious, invigorating, and Ichigo rolled his hips into the push. The only coherent thought he could grasp onto was a frantic begging to be stuffed full.
Blessedly, the knot finally popped in, and Ichigo garnered the last of his strength to clamp down on the intrusion—causing Grimmjow to roar.
The flames consumed them, and Ichigo screamed his release as warmth pulsed inside.
They slumped in unison, the exhaustion pulling their bodies syrupy-slow to the bed. Harsh pants and rumbling purrs filled the now-quiet air.
Grimmjow nuzzled into Ichigo's back, his knot still locking them together. Ichigo fully shook off the leash, and his limp arm flopped into the pillows.
It was unknown how long they stayed there, murmuring sweet words as Grimmjow's knot slowly deflated. Once it could be safely removed, Ichigo carefully rolled them onto their sides and slipped off—chuckling when his mate protested.
"I gotta untie you, dumbass," Ichigo tenderly slurred as he shuffled off the bed.
He made quick work of removing the rope and collar, gently massaging strained arms as he slipped Grimmjow's shirt off. The pants were next, and both got tossed along with Ichigo's tank top into the nearby hamper.
Wobbly footsteps carried Ichigo to the bathroom, where he soaked a couple rags in toasty water. He returned to the bed and hurriedly wiped their skin clean, unsure of how much longer he had until his limbs gave out entirely.
Once most of the mess was gone, Ichigo settled them under one of the clean sheets. He pulled Grimmjow in, settling his mate's weight on top of him. Damp, sky-blue hair settled on his bare chest, and Grimmjow murmured unintelligible nonsense as he burrowed into the skin
Ichigo wrapped one arm around bare shoulders, and his other hand found Grimmjow's—their fingers loosely threading together.
They held each other close late into the night. They shared tender kisses, sweet whispers of affection, and feigned teasing long past their eyelids slipping shut and Ichigo's limbs falling asleep.
Neither of them wanted to give in and fall asleep first, clutching onto the last remnants of consciousness until it finally slipped from their grasp.