Synopsis: One last caress from the corpse of love is all I want… This is what happens in between all the fighting, when they admit that all they really have is each other.

Author's Notes: Co-Authored by Evanescent Crimson. This is an Ulquiorra and Grimmjow one-shot. Written in first person, alternating between Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's POV, beginning with Ulquiorra. Yaoi.

Warning: Slash. Male/male sex. M-rated.

Disclaimer: The Bleach franchise and any characters or trademarks of Bleach that you may recognize in this story are not my own. The song title, Cyanide Sun, and lyrics thereof are property of HIM. No copyright infringement intended.


Cyanide Sun

Should've known how hard it is to stop tearing each other apart

Separating souls entwined with all these Labyrinthine lies

We sat around the large table in the conference room, Aizen-sama delivering a speech. I made sure to appear as if I were listening intently, as I always do. But the truth was, my mind never strayed far from the blue-haired arrancar opposite me.

His fists were clenched. I knew how hard this was for him; it was simply against his nature to submit to anyone, let alone a former shinigami. He kept silent however. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques was many things: arrogant, rash, passionate, hot-headed… But he was not stupid, and he knew better than to challenge Aizen-sama. For this I was grateful; I wouldn't appreciate it if he got himself killed, or thrown out of Hueco Mundo.

I caught his eye. We shared a look that went unnoticed by our fellow Espada. A look that said, "Hang in there".

I am dead to you

A shadow doomed

My love, forever in the dark

I lay in bed, staring at the stark white ceiling of my chamber. I knew I shouldn't have been thinking about it again, but my thoughts as per usual were running rampant. He was a room away. Cuarto. He'd sent me that reassuring look from across the table, as he knew what I was thinking and how I was feeling. His emerald eyes kept me sane and my temper in check. Within them, I was lost.

I was restless. Sick of the ceiling, sick of the stillness, I left my sleeping quarters to find something to eat. There was bound to be something to snack on in the kitchens. Even though we as arrancar don't need to eat, we like the feeling of being full. It was something we could never have as Hollows.

I stepped into the kitchen, white like everything else in this Godforsaken fortress. Las Noches. Even the sand was white. I walked over to the refrigerator and opened it, inspecting its contents. Retrieving a piece of steak out of its depths, I turned around to discover I was not alone.

And of all untruths

The truest is you

Too close to my heart

I watched Sexta walk into the kitchen, seemingly unaware of my presence. I sipped on my milk, silently, staring from the shadows. He wore white silk pants with nothing else. I pretended not to notice. Self-consciously I pulled my robe tighter around myself.

"Ulquiorra" he acknowledged, steak in hand.

"Jeagerjaques" I responded, emotionlessly as was custom for me. He looked like he wanted to say something, but appeared to decide against it, as he walked away. Like he had so many times before.

Just before he walked out the door, he turned to face me again. "Cuarto, I-"

"Trash" I said condescendingly, disdain in my eyes as I cast them to the floor. I was a coward, hiding behind harsh words, not even able to look Grimmjow in the eye.

His eyes reflected first hurt, then anger, but no surprise, which hurt me most of all. He expected nothing else from me, and I gave him nothing else to expect.

This is how it's always been. But not how it always will be, he decided, because he was walking up to me. He'd put the steak down on a counter and was confidently striding over to where I was sitting. I stood up, stood tall. He towered over me anyway.

My well-trained eyes and reflexes could see it coming, and I could easily have blocked it. But whether it was pride or shame that kept me still, I do not know. I let him hit me.

This emptiness I've made my home

Embracing memories of dreams long gone

We were back to square one. After everything, I was still worthless in his eyes. I tried to prove myself. But I was nothing.

Something snapped. I hated this… I hated him. How dare he? I lunged for his face and was slightly shocked when he didn't dodge my blow. He just looked at the ground. I suddenly felt very guilty. I'd expected him to move. And now I'd hurt him.

"Cuarto" I whispered, begging him with my eyes to see me. But he didn't look up. "Look at me!" I yelled. The black-haired Espada ignored me.

I grabbed Ulquiorra by the front of his white robe and pulled him closer, so that I could feel his cool breath on my face. Finally, he looked up at me, his beautiful green eyes pouring into mine.

I let go of the material gathered in my fist, causing Ulquiorra's robe to fall open. His pale, toned but slender chest was revealed, along with the gaping hole near his throat.

He was looking at me, but what it was exactly that I saw in those eyes, I couldn't really tell. I could never really tell.

This time, he spoke. "Sexta" he said evenly.

One last caress from the corpse of love

Is all I want, underneath the cyanide sun

We were always fighting. I was always hiding, he was always walking away. But this time he came back… Didn't I owe it to him not to hide?

"Sexta" I said. And then I hit him back, sending him crashing into the wall. He growled at me, getting up quickly and poising himself to fight.

We were at it for a couple of minutes, fighting with fervour but no real intent to kill. I know Grimmjow was just expressing himself. He was trying to communicate. "I'm not trash" he was trying to tell me. I guess he didn't know that I already knew.

My robe was all ripped up, so I let it slide off my shoulders to the floor, not breaking eye contact with my teal-eyed rival. He wanted me to look at him, and now I couldn't look away. He took a deep breath and launched himself at me again. Grimmjow's pants were apparently also all ripped up, and they were falling down, resting low on his hips. I had to suppress a smirk; I couldn't go giving away my thoughts or emotions. It was unbecoming of the Cuarto Espada.

I expected his fist to connect with my face again, but I was startled. His lips met mine instead. After the short-lived but heated kiss, I put my hands on his sculpted, tanned chest and shoved him off. Once again he flew back, hitting the door this time. With a feral grin, the man with blue hair stood up. His pants got left behind. He reached for the latch, flicking it up and thereby locking us in the kitchen.

"Come" he said.

We've sailed the seas of grief

On a raft built with our tears

Looking for a way to disappear

For a moment from our deepest fears

"Come" I beckoned. I stood naked before the man who'd caused all the suffering, who'd made me question everything about myself. Behind me, a locked door, the only exit.

Ulquiorra. The devil of my nightmares and the angel of my dreams. Murciélago, the winged demon.

I moved towards him boldly. He was enough of a warrior not to take a step back. His face betrayed nothing. He may have been angry, afraid, disgusted, or excited, and I wouldn't have known either way.

I stood once more right in front of him, looking into his deep green eyes. We lived a strange existence and all we really had wad each other. Why couldn't he see that? If nothing else in the hell hole that was Hueco Mundo, he could've had me. If only he wanted me.

Without warning, Ulquiorra grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against a wall. It was seconds before I felt his soft lips on mine once again.

We are creatures born from despair and fear, but now I was unafraid. We only walk with the living, but we are dead beyond reason. But now I felt alive.

After a few moments of desperate, need-filled kissing, I lifted Ulquiorra up and placed him (not exactly gently, but I knew he could handle it) on the table. His empty glass of milk shattered under his weight. He didn't seem to notice he was laying on a bed of broken glass, as his lips didn't leave mine. At least not until they found my neck. I loomed over the slighter, paler man, letting him bruise me. It was okay for him to mark me; I already knew I was his.

I was already naked, so with Ulquiorra's pajama pants, I felt he was too clothed. I quickly solved that problem. He didn't look away as I unsheathed him. He was a man. He was not shy.

I climbed back on top of him, straddling him and grinding my erection against his. I could feel shards of glass in my knees. I could only imagine what was happening to his back. "Cuarto" I moaned into his ear.

"Sexta" he replied breathlessly. I was mildly surprised. He was acknowledging me even now, with my hands all over his body. His hands were all over mine. They found their way to my throbbing length, which he began to touch as if it were a precious treasure. As if all he'd ever wanted to do was touch me. It made me groan in pleasure.

I played with his pale pink nipples in my mouth for a while as he stroked me. After another moment I was too aroused to be satisfied. I needed to be inside him. I placed one of my fingers in his mouth. Wantonly he slicked it with saliva, biting my fingertip suggestively. I removed my finger and replaced it at his entrance. Again I was surprised. He spread his legs for me. Trusting me.

This wasn't slow. It wasn't soft and gently and caring. But even though it was rough and heavy and fast and hard, somewhere between the heavy, laboured breathing and the sheen of sweat between our skin, somehow, it was romantic.

I prepared Ulquiorra as best I could. His eyes were closed. At least not scrunched in pain. His face was unreadable. He gapsed and bit down on his bottom lip, so I knew I'd done something right. I'd found a specific spot. Once he was pushing himself down onto three fingers, I figured he was ready. And even if he wasn't, I was.

I lifted Ulquiorra's hips up and aligned him so that I was probing his opening. Slowly I slid inside him. He was hot and tight and the feeling was amazing. He gripped the sides of the table with his white hands. I was hesitant. What if I hurt him? I stayed still, allowing him to adjust to the intrusion.

"Sexta" he groaned. "Move" he ordered. I began to move, sliding in and out slowly, increasing the pace when I was sure that it was okay. We settled into a nice rhythm, with me repeatedly grinding Ulquiorra into the marble table and pieces of broken glass. If anything, he seemed to like it. His face wasn't so straight now; his mouth was slightly open in a sexy pout as he moaned. I've never known him to be so vocal during sex.

Soon I felt a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, deep in my abdomen. I knew I was close to coming. I began to pump Ulquiorra's length in time with our movement, which was becoming increasingly difficult as we sped up and tried to keep in time. After a few moments of extremely wild pleasure, the black-haired Espada arched his back and cried out my name as he came into my hand, all over my stomach. And into my hollow-hole. The feeling of his muscles clenching around me drove me over the edge, and my orgasm was not far behind. It was almost unbearably intense, and I was still tingling, my heart racing from the strain of the workout. We were both physically fit, and our competitiveness made us tire each other out, even in sex.

Trying to regain composure, I pulled myself out of Ulquiorra and lay beside him, almost on top of him. I doubted he'd appreciate the intimate gesture, but I was too worn out to move. I needed to sleep, and would have loved to have done so in my lover's arms. But he was not my lover. To Cuarto, I was just a toy. Wasn't I?

I drew breath sharply when I felt a warm arm wrap around me and pull me closer. Ulquiorra placed his hand on my jaw (the side without the mask) and gazed deeply into my eyes. I felt like crying. No one had ever looked at me like that before. Like I was worth something.

I couldn't help myself. I propped myself up, supported by my elbows, and placed a slow, gently kiss on the higher-ranked Espada's lips. I started to pull away but he caught my lips before I could. We lay on the kitchen table, kissing leisurely in the aftermath of our love-making. That's what it was to me, even if to him it was just fucking. I took the time to explore his mouth, learning everything I could with my tongue, not knowing if or when I'd ever have this chance again. Although, after that mind-blowing experience, I doubt either of us would be able to keep away for very long.

After a few moments, I pulled away and rested my head on Ulquiorra's chest, snuggling into him, still surprising myself with the boldness of my actions. But I figured, if I could fuck him, I could hold him.

I knew this was my resting place.

"Jeagerjaques" he said quietly, trailing a finger along my arm and giving me shivers. We were on a cold, marble table after all, and we had no clothes on. "I have nothing but despair and despondency to give you" Ulquiorra said, sounding even. He was not sad about this fact; he was merely stating the truth of the matter.

"I'll take it" I replied. Even if his world was made up of anguish and suffering, I wanted to be a part of it. After all, my world was too. It made sense to do it together. To be together.

But alas, I knew we'd be fighting again tomorrow. Somehow though, it made me feel better that tonight (tomorrow it would be last night) I had him moaning and calling out my name as he came hard all over me.

But even if we were fighting, even if we were overwhelmed by the grief of living, we'd still have each other.

I'll be drowning you in this river of gloom

Forever in my heart

It was almost morning. I knew we couldn't lie here until then, or we'd be asking for someone to find us. And I didn't wasn't to found naked on a tabletop, covered in semen, wrapped up in Grimmjow's arms. It wouldn't do.

I got up and began to assess the damage. Stuff was broken, but that was from our fight. We'd have to stick to the story that that was all that'd happened. I could feel blood running down my back from where I'd lain on glass. In my opinion, it'd added a whole new level of sensation to the experience.

My pajama pants were on the floor. I quickly slipped them back on, as well as my torn robe. I could feel the apathy and misery settling back in after the high of elation. The ecstasy of orgasm. Now I was just tired, ready to fall into my soft sheets and sleep. And hopefully never wake up. How would I face him? How would I tell Sexta I wanted to do this again?

I looked around the room guiltily. I was about to leave, but before I did, I glanced back at Grimmjow who was now sitting up on the table near the edge. His hair was messed up. I didn't even want to know what mine looked like. He had a strange look in his eye. I needed to leave before I curled like a cinder in the flame of his gaze.

But before I did, I walked up to his and put my arms around his toned waist, snuggling my face in his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelt uniquely Grimmjow, with a mixture of sweat, sex, and me. He returned the embrace, holding me in his strong, tanned arms. "Again, Cuarto" he whispered into my hair, stroking my back.

I silently agreed. "Tomorrow" I said. Neither of us would want to wait any longer; not when we'd found a source of heat in this shared world of cold.

"My room" Grimmjow stated. Again I agreed. I kissed him one more time before I departed.

Later, I lay in bed, clutching my blankets close to me, wishing he was here with me. I wanted too sleep beside him, but that was for another night.

He could give me what I need, and I him. What more could creatures damned such as ourselves ask for? He is all I want.

One last caress from the corpse of love

Is all I want, beneath the cyanide sun

Author's note: A review would be highly appreciated. Let me know if we should continue or leave this here.