The Taste of Ink
Author's Note: An idea I've had in my head since I got my own tattoos done on May 23rd. In fact, as soon as I got home from getting them done, I realized I could have been blanking out, daydreaming about Grimmjow fucking Ichigo into the ground as a distraction and I was kinda pissed that I didn't think of that.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, and I don't own The Taste of Ink by The Used either. (Greatest band evah!)
Warnings: PWP. Mansecks. In a tattoo parlor. You've been warned. Also, I've kind of taken several liberties here, so it probably should be labeled semi-AU.
The taste of ink is getting old
It's four o' clock in the fucking morning
Each day gets more and more like the last day
Still I can see it coming
While I'm standing in the river drowning
This could be my chance to break out
This could be my chance to say goodbye
At last it's finally over
Couldn't take this town much longer
Being half dead wasn't what I planned to be
Now I'm ready to be free
Kurosaki Ichigo walked into the tattoo parlor with complete confidence; he knew exactly what he wanted, where he wanted it, and how big it was going to be.
What he didn't know, was the he was going to walk out sorer than he thought he'd be.
Grimmjow Jeagerjacques stripped off his rubber gloves with a snap and promptly ignored whoever just came through the front door of his parlor. He turned to toss the ink-laden materials and old needles into the waste bin when he caught sight of the man who'd just walked in. He had short, spiky orange hair that just had to be fake and a thin, lean build.
Their eyes connected in the mirror and he smirked, feeling a small shock crawl up his spine at the sight of those dark, chocolate eyes. For a second those brown eyes darkened, but Grimmjow was convinced it was just his imagination because a second later the teenager was strolling over to him like he owned the place, hands in pockets. Grimmjow bit back a snarl.
"You here to get inked?" He asked instead, opening drawers and pulling out needles and paper towels and a little bottle of fresh alcohol.
"No, I'm here for the tea party," the kid said sarcastically. The nerve of that brat. "Of course I'm here for a tattoo."
"You fuckin' brat," he muttered, his eye twitching. He took a moment to calm his anger; he couldn't afford to lose a potential customer… Plus this kid was kind of hot. "What do you want?"
Ichigo grinned and sank into the parlor chair, knowing he won.
"I want a gothic six right here. Name's Kurosaki Ichigo by the way," he said, pushing his shirt up and his jeans down a bit and pointing to an area low between his protruding hip bone and navel. Grimmjow tried not to drool at the orange hair trailing down from the kid's belly button and the flat, lightly defined stomach.
God, he couldn't get distracted now.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he frowned. "Grimmjow Jeagerjacques. You want a six? Why the hell would you want a six?"
"Yeah, I want a six. You gonna refuse to do it?" The kid taunted, settling further back in the chair as thought it were comfy.
"No," Grimmjow growled, knowing he could only refuse if the customer was drunk or high. "I just didn't think you would want something that's already been done."
"Oh, afraid I'm a copy cat, eh? What are you, five? I have my own reasons, now just do it!"
"Not until you explain," he muttered stubbornly. He was annoyed; the six tattoo on his back itched as if it somehow knew it was being argued over. He ignored it.
"Jesus Christ, you're annoying. Do you always treat your customers like this? I'm getting it done because that's how old I was when my mother died. There, you happy?"
Grimmjow snorted. "Jesus, you're a pansy," he said with a smirk, moving to lay the back of the chair parallel with the ground. The annoying teen, still in a sitting position, started at the insult and was about to retort but Grimmjow reached out, his hand connecting with the kid's chest, and shoved him back down roughly. Ichigo made a soft sound in the back of his throat that almost sounded like a moan and both men froze, staring at each other.
A bright flush crept up the kid's face and he coughed, trying to dispel the sexual tension that suddenly invaded the room. Grimmjow broke their gaze and turned toward the counter, trying not to smirk at the tangible relief flooding out of Kurosaki's body. He reassembled his inker (AN: Don't know the real name for it, sorry) and turned back around, slightly surprised to see the teen flinch.
"What, afraid of needles?" He taunted, grinning as angry brown eyes glared his way. Ichigo didn't answer, so Grimmjow continued, giving Kurosaki the standard speech he gave all his customers. "Don't worry, just relax and it won't hurt so much."
Kurosaki immediately relaxed, letting his head fall back to the cushion and closing his eyes. Grimmjow sighed and slowly peeled the teen's shirt up and rolled his jeans down. The muscles under his fingers rippled slightly at the feeling of his touch and he bit back a gasp. He looked up and saw Ichigo's mouth fall open slightly, his eyes still closed. This was possibly the most erotic tattoo he'd ever done. He could practically feel the sexual tension in the room rise higher.
"You ready?" He asked quietly. Ichigo opened his eyes and stared down at him. Grimmjow carefully reached out with his left hand to hold down the teenager's hip and the other hand with the inker followed. Grimmjow smoothed out the fabric of the kid's jeans, trying to ignore the tiny shudders that went through Ichigo every time he touched him. His right hand curled slightly, getting ready to bury the needle into the teenager's skin when he accidentally brushed against the slight bulge at the zipper of the teen's jeans. Ichigo hissed, his eyes darkening as they bored holes through his own. The teen bit his lip and his eyelids fluttered.
Grimmjow bit back a groan and dropped the inker unceremoniously on the floor. His right hand, now empty, slowly snaked its way up Ichigo's thighs and cupped his hardening member, softly massaging. The teenager's eyes closed completely and he moaned at the contact. His hips thrust up involuntarily, trying to get more friction than the teasing caress the tattoo artist was giving him. This time Grimmjow couldn't stifle his moan and something in him snapped; he suddenly didn't care that this man was a customer, he just wanted to fuck him to the ground. He hastily unbuttoned the slim jeans and ripped the zipper apart, pleased and somewhat surprised that the teen wasn't wearing underwear.
He wrapped a hand around the teen's stiff cock and the boy cried out, his back arching off the reclined chair. Grimmjow grinned and told Ichigo to take off his shirt, which the kid promptly did, almost ripping it in his haste to feel Grimmjow's hands on his naked skin.
Grimmjow began to pump Ichigo's cock and reached up with his unoccupied hand to scratch lightly at the teen's chest and tweak a nipple. Ichigo let out a particularly loud moan and sat up, his lips connecting roughly and sloppily with Grimmjow's. The artist squeezed the head of Ichigo's cock and the boy let out a surprised yelp, allowing Grimmjow to slink his tongue into the open, wet cavern. He felt his cock twitch rather painfully in his jeans as the inexperienced tongue began to rub against his.
'This is so hot,' Grimmjow thought, biting Ichigo's lip 'til it bled.
"Mmm, Grimmjow, is this –is this how you treat every patient?" Ichigo muttered breathlessly against his lips. Grimmjow hummed and lapped at the teen's pulse. Ichigo groaned and the sound of it raised the hairs on the back of Grimmjow's neck. Ichigo's hands slid into his hair and whined when Grimmjow stopped pumping him. The artist roughly pushed him back in a mirror of what he'd done only a few minutes earlier, shucking his shirt and jeans and falling on top of the warm, writhing body beneath him. Their chests rubbed together and they both sighed.
Grimmjow's hand circled Ichigo's hip bone and the teen's hips unconsciously bucked into his, creating delicious friction that they'd both been craving. Grimmjow ground his hips down into Ichigo's, shuddering at the cries that were rushing past the teen's lips. He shoved a couple fingers into Ichigo's mouth and told him to suck them. Ichigo instantly hollowed out his cheeks and the blue-haired man growled, imagining what that mouth could do to his cock.
Ichigo released his fingers and his breath hitched. "Please, Grimmjow!"
"Please what? What do you want me to do, brat?" Grimmjow muttered, forcing himself to stop the pistoning of his hips –all the better to torture Ichigo with. The teen's face contorted into a mixture of need and annoyance and a bit of embarrassment as he glared up at the man who was assaulting him.
"Damnit," he mumbled. He hadn't really wanted his first time to be with a strange man he'd only met a few moments ago, but his pleasure-fuzzed mind couldn't fathom stopping now so he mewled and tilted his head to the side in what he hoped was an innocent manner.
"I want you to fuck me," he purred, allowing his eyes to drop to half-lidded. Grimmjow moaned deep in his throat and attacked Ichigo's mouth as though he'd been waiting to do this his whole life. Ichigo eagerly replied in kind, his nails digging into strong shoulders.
Using the kiss as a distraction, he lifted one of Ichigo's legs to his waist and plunged a finger into his tight ass. Ichigo hissed into the kiss and Grimmjow tried to sooth him as much as possible.
"Ichigo, call me Ichigo," the orange-haired teen breathed, his face scrunched up in discomfort as Grimmjow inserted another finger and began to scissor. Ichigo let out a pained gasp and Grimmjow hooked his fingers, trying to find the boy's prostate. He felt his fingers brush up against something and suddenly Ichigo arched against him, crying out and throwing his head back against the cushion. The fingers on his back clawed at him, trying to get him closer and he could hear Ichigo mutter his name.
He smirked and began to thrust in and out, fucking Ichigo with his fingers until he decided the teen was ready for him. He looked Ichigo in the eye, catching the teen's attention before slamming hard into him up to the hilt. Ichigo cried out in pain and Grimmjow held as still as he could to let the teen adjust to the fullness of him.
Ichigo whimpered and rocked his hips a little. Grimmjow hissed above him and he blinked, just realizing what position they were in. Both laying on the chair, Ichigo's legs thrown over the armrests, the door to the parlor unlocked for anyone to walk in on them. Somehow that thought turned him on even more and he grabbed Grimmjow's ass and slammed their hips together, both moaning out their pleasure.
Grimmjow began a brutal pace, drawing as much pain out of Ichigo as he was pleasure, but the younger man wasn't complaining; he wanted it rough and hard and hot. He had always thought his first time would be with Inoue, a girl whom he was expected to have feelings for but didn't, and he'd thought it would be soft, gentle, and nowhere near as good as this.
Ichigo's thoughts were broken and he threw his head back, hearing a dull crack as he hit the metal frame of the chair. Grimmjow was thrusting erratically and hitting his prostate on every thrust now. Ichigo's hips thrust up, trying to find friction and he felt Grimmjow's long fingers wrap around his rather painful erection and the man's thumb fingered his slit.
'Ohgodohgodohgod!' He thought, arching up and rubbing his chest against Grimmjow's.
Grimmjow grunted; he could feel Ichigo's inner walls tighten around him as the boy came all over his hand with an erotic, rasping cry. He knew he was close as well –he could feel his balls tighten. He thrust in a couple more times and was lost in a sea of white hot pleasure as he spilled his seed into Ichigo's ass. The teen groaned at the strange feeling and Grimmjow collapsed on top of him, enjoying the feeling of Ichigo's arms and legs wrapping lazily around his shoulders and waist. There wasn't much room for cuddling on the chair, but Ichigo still looked a little dazed from the pleasure. Heh, virgin.
Grimmjow suddenly had an idea and smirked.
When Ichigo came to (he had blacked out for a minute or so), he was alone on the chair. He sat up, grimacing at the sticky mess on his stomach and chest, and winced. His ass and lower back hurt like hell, but there was a slight twinge near his right hip, too. He looked down and his eyes widened. When had Grimmjow done the tattoo? Surely he hadn't been incoherent that long, right?
A movement to his right caught his eyes and Grimmjow appeared from another room with a wet towel and some pain killers. Ichigo smiled and thankfully took them, downing the pain killers and using the towel to wipe up his drying semen. He felt eyes on him and looked up to find Grimmjow staring at him. He flushed, realizing he was still naked, and accepted his clothes as Grimmjow handed them to him.
"Thanks… For the tattoo, I mean," Ichigo mumbled, not really knowing what to say. Grimmjow just laughed like a little boy who'd been bad and thought he'd gotten away with it. Ichigo's eyes narrowed and he re-examined his tattoo.
"You know, from this angle, it kind of looks like…a…" Ichigo trailed off, his face flushing in anger or embarrassment, Grimmjow didn't know which. "You son of a bitch! This isn't a six, it's a g! You put a fucking g on me, you fucktard!"
Grimmjow laughed again and kindly pointed out "But from the other angle, it's a six. Only you'll think it's a g. Why, does that bother you?"
Ichigo howled angrily and made to punch Grimmjow but immediately melted when he felt rough lips press against his own and a demanding tongue slicking his mouth.
"But you like it, don't you bitch? I guess you'll be coming back for some more tattoos, hm?" Grimmjow chuckled as Ichigo growled, but didn't disagree.
Author's Note: I wasn't quite sure how to end it, so I hope it's not terrible. Please review.
Follow me at trumpet-geek. tumblr. com!
TG © July 2008