Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any other name brands...

Lovedotcom is something I made up for this oneshot. It may exist in reality, but not the way I've portrayed it. Also this is for miszxbrii for suggesting the idea. I thought it was funny as hell, and decided to take it on. So! I hope you enjoy it, hun! XD

Also, beware of a bit of extreme OOCness from Nnoitra. LoL!


Ichigo was fuckin' exasperated. Finding a decent date couldn't possibly be this hard, even if he was gay, could it? There was no way in hell every guy was either taken or a goddamned loon. No way. But that was how it was looking.

Ever since he'd admitted to liking guys, it'd been damn near impossible for him to find a guy that was attractive, and that he actually liked. Not to mention, wasn't crazy as turtles suddenly sprouting wings and taking to the air.

His best friend, Renji, certainly hadn't helped the situation by adamantly proclaiming he wouldn't help Ichigo go "dick-hunting". After punching the loud red-head in the mouth, he calmly explained to him that he wasn't "dick-hunting".

"Well, what the fuck would you call it, then?" Renji demanded. Ichigo faltered and scowled darkly before replying.

"I'm looking for a decent date. Nice company."

"Pshht, fuck outta here, Ichigo, you wanna get laid. Just admit it!"

Ichigo refused to respond. It was bad enough that he'd lost his virginity to the worst kind of guy, but now he couldn't find a decent one even if he'd been paid to. It was grossly unjust.

"What about this?" Renji had interrupted his thoughts, as he sat swiveling back and forth in the leather desk chair in front of Ichigo's laptop. "It's a dating site for horny pervs like you. Says all ya gotta do is make a profile and you can start chatting with other members."

Ichigo stalked over to him and upended the chair, causing the red-head to topple out of it and hit the floor with a thud. Taking over the now empty seat, he perused the webpage, Lovedotcom, chuckling every so often at some of the profiles, before finally deciding to go for it.

"Name...Ichigo...Kurosaki. Age...twenty...two. Height...seriously? They want my fuckin' height? Weight too? What the hell? This feels like I'm filling out hospital forms," he grumbled.

Renji emerged from the kitchen, chewing obnoxiously on some cookies he'd found in the cabinet. He paused behind Ichigo and snickered.

"You should put 5'5" for height and 300 lbs. for weight."

"Stupid shit. The point is to actually get a date." Renji shrugged as Ichigo continued. "Height...five...nine. Hunh. Eye color...brown. Hair" Ichigo paused uncertain of what he should put down. Red? But that wasn't quite right. Orange? To hell with it. He'd just post a picture and leave that spot blank.

Once he finished the profile, he and Renji sat going through photos on Ichigo's digital camera. He hated most of them, but Renji pointed out a decent one. Ichigo was sitting in one of the bay windows at Rukia's place, with his left leg drawn up and his left arm resting on the knee. His right leg was stretched out in front of him, and in his right hand he was toying with a stress ball. His eyes were focused on something outside the window and for once, he wasn't showing his customary scowl. He was wearing a form-fitting white t-shirt, khaki cargo shorts and he was barefoot. The outfit flaunted his smooth, tan skin and the sun was highlighting his already bright hair.

The profile shot was pretty cool, so he decided to use it for the website, and hoped it wouldn't attract a bunch of fuckin' weirdos. He'd had enough of those.


"Mail, motherfucker!"

Grimmjow glanced at his laptop over his shoulder from his spot in front of the closet, then checked the clock on his nightstand. Damn, he was gonna be fuckin' late! He'd have to check the message later.

He quickly dressed in a black t-shirt with "Who's ya daddy?" across the front in white letters, black jeans that hung low enough on his hips to show the waistband of his black boxer briefs, a white belt and black and white converse sneakers. Black, leather wristbands completed the ensemble. He took a glimpse in the mirror at his reflection and gave a feral grin. He looked hot, if he did say so himself. Grabbing his wallet and keys from the dresser, he jogged from his bedroom and out of his apartment.

He cast a cursory glance at his watch and swore. Man, he was late. He hoped Ulquiorra wouldn't leave, 'cause it certainly wouldn't be the first time. Grimmjow couldn't help his weird work hours. Being a video game designer was fun, but the hours were strange and often-time grueling, especially his position as a Character Artist/Animator. He enjoyed it, but his boyfriend Ulquiorra frequently complained about it, claiming Grimmjow played games for a living. It had been a sore topic for a while, but he'd learned to overlook it, although he thought he shouldn't have had to.

He sped through the streets in his newly purchased Audi R8-a celebration gift, from himself to himself, for the success of his team's last video game. It was currently the best seller and had been for the last three weeks, so he was insanely proud.

He screeched into a parking space outside of Ulquiorra's favorite restaurant, and hurried inside. The minute he entered, heads turned and eyes were glued to him, women and men alike. Grimmjow had to resist the urge to strut past the onlookers, as he made his way to his boyfriend seated in the back. Once he settled across from Ulquiorra though, his cheerful demeanor evaporated.

Ulquiorra wasn't happy. In fact, he was glaring at Grimmjow with no small amount of distaste. It was the first time he'd seen the petite man so infuriated, so he frowned.

"I'm sorry, Yor, I tried to get here as soon as I could," he apologized. Ulquiorra just continued to glare, and it rubbed Grimmjow the wrong way. "Yor, what the fuck? Ya know how my job is, so why're ya so pissed?"

"Grimmjow, this is no longer working for me. I can not tolerate a grown man that plays children's games for a living. It is an excuse not to grow up and have adult responsibilities," Ulquiorra deadpanned. Grimmjow's frown deepened to a fierce scowl, and he abruptly rose from his seat.

"I see how it is. Well, I ain't gonna keep ya, so I'll be goin'. Hope ya find someone that ain't all irresponsible like me, what with my well-payin', enjoyable job an' all, ya stupid little shit," he snarled, as he left the restaurant without a backward glance. Fuck that depressing little bastard. Grimmjow was tired of being ridiculed about his job. Hell, he worked hard and deserved more fucking respect than that.

He stopped at the store on his way back home, to pick up a pack of beer. Tonight would be one of those nights. He ambled into his apartment, stuffed the bottles into the fridge after removing one, and headed to his bedroom. He wasn't even tired, but he had nothing else to do, and he only had one real friend. Szayel Aporro Grantz wasn't his idea of a drinking and hanging out kind of buddy, though.

Sighing heavily, he dropped into the desk chair in front of his laptop, and cracked open the beer. He could check that message now. He shook the wireless mouse to activate the screen, and clicked on the white envelope flashing in the bottom right corner.

New Message From: Szayel Aporro Grantz

Speak of the devil...

To: Sexta24aoldotcom

From: Pinkhairedgeniusmsndotcom

Date: Friday, 15 May 2010

Subject: Lovedotcom Invitation

Get rid of the fucking emo...


Now, Grimmjow.

Grimmjow tipped his head back and laughed until tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Szayel hadn't liked Ulquiorra after meeting him only once, and had successfully pegged him as a depressing and overly serious freak. He had gone on to drip disdain whenever Grimmjow spoke of the man, explaining how Ulquiorra wasn't even his type. He wished he would have listened.

Deciding to take Szayel's advice for once, he clicked on the link to the Lovedotcom homepage, and immediately started laughing. What the fuck? He browsed through some of the profiles, tears streaming down his cheeks at some of the idiots posted on the site. Figuring a profile of his own couldn't possibly be any worse than what he was seeing, he began to type. This should be fun.


Im-fucking-possible. This was only his second date, and he was so ready to throw in the towel. He was currently at a quaint little restaurant, seated across a small table from a tall, painfully thin man, that had a navy blue bandana covering his left eye. He had shoulder-length black hair, a wide piano-toothed grin, and he had introduced himself as Nnoitra Jiruga.

If that wasn't creepy enough, he was wearing a red t-shirt with "I love spoons" written across it in big, bold black lettering. Yeah, you're probably thinking it's one of those gag t-shirts, right? 'Cause that's what Ichigo thought, too. That was, before the man began stroking the rounded silverware reverently, with a strange gleam in his dark eye.

"So, cutie, whattaya like ta do in yer spare time?" the man asked.


Ichigo grimaced, hopefully unnoticeably, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, keeping the device hidden under the table. He quickly sent a text message to Renji.


The phone buzzed in his hand a moment later.

Hahahahaha! Lmfao! Another bad date?

"I, uh, I like to just hang out with my best friend," Ichigo answered. Nnoitra nodded his head absently, as he was back to molesting his spoon.

YES! He is harassing his spoon! XO WTF?

"So, um, what about you?" Ichigo asked, merely to keep conversation as a distraction.

"I collect spoons."

Oh, fuck this.

Renji, call me NOW. Say someone had an accident or something...anything! Just help me get the fuck outta here!

Ha! Fine.

Not even a minute later, Ichigo's phone buzzed and he lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered gratefully.

"Dude! Hahaha! Oh my god! I'm fuckin' dyin' over here! Get your ass outta there!"

Ichigo snapped his phone shut, gritting his teeth in frustration with his best friend. Stupid red-haired asshole.

"Uh, look, Nnoitra, I gotta go. A family emergency, it seems. We can get together again at another time," Ichigo hurriedly stated. Nnoitra glanced up at Ichigo's risen frame with a dreamy expression. What the hell?

"Sure, sure. Ya still got my number, right?" Ichigo nodded and held his hand out.

"It was er, nice to meet you, Nnoitra."

Nnoitra was too engrossed with his spoon to notice Ichigo's outstretched hand, and upon further contemplation, Ichigo was glad the man had not shaken it. Turning on his heel, he rushed from the restaurant like his feet were on fire. Fuck, that guy was insane.

As soon as he stepped outside, he called Renji.

"Dude, I seriously think ya should give up that Lovedotcom shit. It ain't workin' too well for ya. Wasn't your last date a narcoleptic?"

Ichigo frowned in remembrance. He had been excited upon seeing his date 'cause the man had been extremely handsome. He was tall, had dark-brown hair and these sleepy-no pun intended-gray eyes. He held a fairly decent conversation, when it wasn't punctuated with long yawns, and he actually had a nice personality. His name had been Stark Coyote.

The date had been going well, until right in the middle of a sentence, the man dropped his head to the restaurant table with a loud thunk, and had promptly fallen asleep. Ichigo, thoroughly mortified by the incredulous looks being sent his way, had left the man a note on a napkin thanking him for the date, and left the restaurant.

"Shut the fuck up, you dick! This is so not fuckin' funny!" He snapped.

"Maybe not to you 'cause you're the one goin' through the shit, but for me, the outsider lookin' in, it's fuckin' hilarious."

"I hate you."

"Mmm, babe, ya know I love it when ya talk dirty like that," Renji moaned and Ichigo hung up. Idiot.

Completely put off for the night, Ichigo made his way home, disappointment snaking through his system. Why had every guy he'd gone out with been fucked in one way or another? Wasn't there one normal man out there?

He stepped into his apartment, kicked off his sneakers and collapsed onto the couch. As soon as he'd gotten comfortable...

"You've got mail!"

Hell no. He wasn't in the mood.

"You've got mail!"

Shit! He'd forgotten that it wouldn't stop saying that crap unless he checked the message. Fuck.

Ichigo dragged himself off the couch and plopped into the desk chair. He activated the screen and clicked the envelope floating in the corner.

To: ZangetsuBankaiaoldotcom

From: Sexta24aoldotcom

Date: Friday, 15 May 2010

Subject: Curious

Read your profile on Lovedotcom and I'm curious.

That your natural hair color?

Ichigo stared at the screen quite baffled. No lewd suggestions, no weird ass comments, just a simple question about his hair. He smiled and answered with a quick "yes". After sending the message off, he went to the Lovedotcom homepage and searched for the guy's profile by his email address. A photoless profile popped up.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques

Member Overview

You don't like video games, then you don't like me.

About Grimmjow


Gender: Male

Age: 26

Birthday: May 24th, 1984

Lives in: Karakura Town, Japan


Hair Color: Ha!

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 172 lbs.

Body Type: You'll find out if I like ya

Best Feature: *grins*

Tattoos: One

Piercings: Two


Drink: Sometimes

Smoke: S'bad for ya

Marital Status: Single

Children: No

Pets: No

Occupation: Video game design (Character Artist/Animator)

Income: Nosy fuckers


Nationality: German/Japanese

Education: Tch. Seriously?

Languages Spoken: ...German/Japanese...O_o

Star Sign: Gemini


Email: Sexta24aoldotcom

AIM: Sexta24

Ichigo again stared at the screen in shock. The guy sounded normal, but hell, so did Nnoitra and Stark. This guy though...Ichigo couldn't pinpoint it, but he seemed interesting. He certainly had a strange name though. Grimmjow. Plus the profile boasted blue eyes and the hair color was left blank, but he didn't have a photo posted for Ichigo to see for himself. Suddenly an instant message box popped up.

Sexta24: Do ya mind?

Ichigo grinned, secretly happy that the man had thought of the instant messaging thing first.

ZangetsuBankai: Nah, it's fine.

Sexta24: Your name suits ya.

Ichigo instantly bristled.

ZangetsuBankai: Don't go there...

Sexta24: Bit of a sore spot, Strawberry?

So, this guy was an asshole.

ZangetsuBankai: My name is Ichigo.

Sexta24: That's what I said. Strawberry.

ZangetsuBankai: Look asshole, did you want something?

Sexta24: LoL. Yeah, ya looked interesting. Now I find out you're fun to tease too. I'm bored. Wanna meet up?

Ichigo frowned and glanced at the time on the bottom of the screen. 8:45 pm. It was still early.

ZangetsuBankai: Now?

Sexta24: Nah, sometime next year...yeah, now, Strawberry.

ZangetsuBankai: Stop callin' me that!

Sexta24: Where do ya wanna meet?

Ichigo glared at the screen, stuck swinging from a pendulum of indecision. On one hand, the guy was an asshole, taunting him and riling him up, but on the other hand, he was fuckin' intriguing. Something about him drew Ichigo in like a moth to a flame.

He didn't know Grimmjow from a can of paint, but at least it was a chance to at least see what he looked like, even if he did turn out to be just as whacked or strange as the others. Ichigo was about to reply, when he remembered the video game statement on his profile.

Taking an extremely deep breath, and praying he wasn't inviting disaster, he typed a simple question.

ZangetsuBankai: You feel like playin' some video games? I'll order some food.

Ichigo squirmed anxiously as he awaited Grimmjow's reply. Did he think he was a weirdo now?

Sexta24: Are you...invitin' me over? A complete stranger? That's dangerous ya know.

Ichigo immediately felt defensive at the barb because the man was right.

ZangetsuBankai: Fine. Whatever. Don't come. Forget I even asked.

Sexta24: Calm down, Strawberry, I was just fuckin' witcha. Address...

Ichigo smiled as he gave Grimmjow his address and turned his laptop off. At least he was on his own turf, where he felt comfortable. That way if Grimmjow was a mad hatter, he could nicely kick him the fuck out. He looked around his living room critically, straightening up a little here and there, before finally ordering a pizza and setting up the video game console. He and Renji would play that thing sometimes into the early morning hours, blowing shit up, shooting zombies and other things of that nature.

His heart leapt into his throat when he heard the knock at the door. He really came. Ichigo seemed to move to the entrance in slow motion, pulse pounding in his ears like a drum. When he opened the portal to find the pizza delivery man, everything sped up again as he paid the guy.

Before he could shut the door though, a large hand snaked around the edge and held it open. Pulling it open again, thinking it was the delivery man and that he'd forgotten something, Ichigo scowled. The scowl quickly disappeared though, when he realized it was definitely not the pizza guy.

The man on the other side of the door had bright blue hair that fell across his brow and was stylishly messy, electric sapphire-blue eyes, and was displaying a feral grin, as he slowly looked Ichigo up and down. The guy's smile seemed predatory due to his slightly sharper than normal canines, but nevermind that. This man gave Ichigo an instant hot flash, and he could feel the heat spreading to his face and ears in the form of a blush.

Grimmjow had on a black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and chest, and hugged his thickly corded arms, sporting "who's ya daddy?" across the front. That made Ichigo snort softly, but his slow perusal continued. Black jeans-that did nothing to hide his obviously muscular and incredibly long legs-black and white converse sneakers, and two black, leather wristbands completed his look. Oh, shit...wait. There in the left corner of his bottom lip, were two black hoops.

Please, please, please...whoever's up there...don't let this guy be creepy.

Grimmjow stuck his hand out, and Ichigo noticed that, not only was it larger than his own, but he had a silver and black band around his thumb.


And then, Ichigo had to suppress a delighted moan at the mere sound of this man's voice. Deep, gruff, fuckin' hot...surely, sex appeal had to have a limit, right? At that moment, he didn't even care that Grimmjow had yet again called him strawberry. The man could call him shithead and he'd probably like the way it sounded. Ichigo finally returned to his senses, and shook Grimmjow's calloused yet, surprisingly, soft hand.

"You really have no room to talk about my hair, you know," Ichigo stated, and Grimmjow's grin only spread-if that was possible.

"Yeah, but at least I'm not named after mine."

His voice was fucking sinful.

"Neither am I," he argued lamely, only to have Grimmjow snort and then chuckle.

Ichigo stepped away from the door, his brain slowly restarting itself, after what felt like someone jamming a fork into an electrical outlet. He moved to place the pizza on the coffee table, senses every bit aware of the tall male closing the door, and making his way to the couch.

Ichigo's mouth was dry as sand, his heart was fucking banging ruthlessly against his ribs, and he was suddenly having the hardest time breathing.

He'd never been more attracted to someone in his short little existence.

He was in the kitchen retrieving a couple of plates, when Grimmjow's voice scared the shit out of him, making him jump and drop the plates.

"Shit!" he cursed.

"Why ya so high-strung, Strawberry?" Grimmjow asked from the doorway of the kitchen, wearing that stupid, fucking sexy as hell grin. Jesus Christ.

"I'm not, I just wasn't expecting you to come in here," he mumbled sullenly, as he grabbed the plates and washed them off.

"I was sayin' I hope ya don't mind that I brought some beer with me."

"Nah, it's fine."

Ichigo moved past Grimmjow, who seemed strangely comfortable in his kitchen, as he went to the fridge to store the alcohol. He was seated on the couch, devouring a slice of pizza-he hadn't realized how hungry he was-when Grimmjow did it again.

"You drink?"

Fucking hell, the guy was quiet as a cat. Ichigo fought the urge to jump, and instead ended up biting his tongue.

"How do you move so quietly?" he snapped. "And I drink sometimes."

"Good, 'cause you're drinking now," Grimmjow commanded, completely ignoring his question, then simultaneously handing him a beer and plopping down on the couch.

Ichigo noticed once Grimmjow was settled beside him, that he smelled like cinnamon gum, soap and aftershave.

He smelled divine.

Ichigo had to tamp down the urge to fidget when he glanced over at Grimmjow, with a mouthful of pizza, to see the man watching him very closely. Particularly Ichigo's mouth. Smiling inwardly, Ichigo swallowed the mouthful and slowly licked his lips, nearly dancing with glee as Grimmjow's eyes tracked the movement hungrily.

Ichigo wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his hands to himself tonight. Did that make him a slut? He took another glimpse at Grimmjow, and caught him licking pizza sauce from his fingers. Oh, well. He'd be a slut for one night.


Grimmjow had officially made it his mission to fuck that sexy little berry every which way but wrong, tonight. He had been completely caught off guard when Ichigo invited him over to his place, but once he laid eyes on him, live and in the flesh, he was happy he'd agreed.

After Grimmjow created a profile on that Lovedotcom site, he'd run across Ichigo's page. The kid's photo had completely stilled him. He remembered his first thought being "fuckin' beautiful", the next had been about his hair, which then made Grimmjow read his profile. He had felt a pressing need to know more about him.

Ichigo Kurosaki

Member Overview


About Ichigo


Gender: Male

Age: 22

Birthday: July 15th, 1988

Lives In: Karakura Town, Japan


Hair Color: ...

Eye Color: Brown

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 145 lbs.

Body Type: Slim?

Best Feature: Don't really know

Tattoos: None

Piercings: One


Drink: Sometimes

Smoke: I like my lungs the way they are, thanks...

Marital Status: I wouldn't do this if I weren't single

Children: Nope

Pets: Nope

Occupation: Tattoo Artist/Piercings

Income: Is that really necessary?


Nationality: Japanese

Education: Associate's Degree (Business Management)

Languages Spoken: Japanese

Star Sign: Cancer


Email: ZangetsuBankaiaoldotcom

AIM: ZangetsuBankai

His profile had been simple, but his occupation coupled with his photo had pushed Grimmjow beyond the brink of curiosity. So, with nothing better to do, he'd emailed Ichigo Kurosaki.

And here he presently sat next to the fiesty red head. His picture was hot, but it didn't do the live version any justice. Ichigo was shorter than Grimmjow by a few inches, and had a lithe build, tanned skin stretched over a subtly toned musculature. Although Ichigo was purely masculine, there was still something soft about him. Maybe it was his warm, nut-brown eyes that seemed to shimmer when he smiled or laughed. Or it could be his full lips that looked entirely too enticing.

Grimmjow didn't know, but what he did know, was that he was warming the strawberry's bed tonight. He smirked lecherously, imagining his hands traversing every inch of that soft-looking skin, as he fucked him into the mattress.

God, he was horny.

Ichigo sat beside him on the couch smelling like clothes fresh from the dryer did he say this? Honeydew melons. It was strange, but fucking driving Grimmjow nuts. He wanted to see if Ichigo tasted the way he smelled.

"OI! The medical pack is over there!" Ichigo yelled, startling him from his naughty musings.


"I need you to fuckin' give it to me!" A sudden blush spread across Ichigo's cheeks at the suggestive statement and Grimmjow cackled.

"Oh, yeah?" He murmured, dropping his voice a few octaves, making Ichigo whip his head around to look at him in shock. "What?"


The little glances and sometimes not so subtle admiration Ichigo sent him, made Grimmjow believe he was wanted in return, but the berry wouldn't make a move. Fine, he could wait. For now.

They played the game, bickering and arguing like school children, until Ichigo claimed his fingers were sore, and then started watching a horror film. It was terrible and not scary at all, but his mind wasn't on that, 'cause Ichigo's head had just fallen on his shoulder.

Grimmjow shifted to free his arm, and plowed his hand through those orange locks that were surprisingly so fucking soft. He massaged the scalp a bit, then fisted a handful of the silken strands and gently tugged, making Ichigo sit up slightly, eyes bleary from sleep. When brown locked with blue, Grimmjow threw caution to the wind and leaned over, pressing his lips against Ichigo's.

A sudden flare of warmth erupted in his stomach and spread outwards, pooling in his groin, among other places. Ichigo was hesitant at first, but when Grimmjow pulled him closer by his slim hips, he began to respond fervently. Ichigo placed a hand on Grimmjow's chest, fisting his shirt, as he situated himself more comfortably against his side. Then Grimmjow swept his tongue across the berry's soft bottom lip, before capturing it and sucking it into his mouth. Ichigo moaned quietly and parted his lips, accepting Grimmjow's tongue, and he wasted no time in diving into the offered cavern.

Christ, he tasted so fucking good. Like pizza and beer, with an added something that Grimmjow just couldn't manage to label at the moment.

He allowed their tongues to twine and dance, no one really trying to dominate the kiss at first, but Ichigo soon moaned again and Grimmjow growled in response, dragging him into his lap. It was then that Grimmjow noticed Ichigo's tongue ring, 'cause it pressed against and caressed his tongue. Jesus H. Christ.

Ichigo straddled his thighs and took over the kiss, tilting his head and sliding his hand behind Grimmjow's neck, long fingers toying with the hairs at the nape. The red head ran his hand upwards into the mass of Grimmjow's hair and tugged sharply, angling his head to deepen the kiss even further.

Aww, fuck.

Grimmjow's hands left Ichigo's sides and slid down over his ass, where he gripped the soft cheeks through his jeans. They were pressed together so tightly that there was barely room to maneuver, but Grimmjow bucked his hips up creating a delicious amount of friction between their clothed but extremely hard erections.

He needed everything off. Now.

Grimmjow pulled back from the kiss for some much needed air, and Ichigo rested their foreheads together, chest heaving and warm breath puffing over Grimmjow's face. Suddenly, Ichigo shuddered and moaned softly.

"Holy shit," he murmured.

"Fuck yeah," Grimmjow added.

His dick was so hard it hurt, as it strained against the confines of his jeans. He leaned forward and nuzzled Ichigo's neck, before placing little kisses and licks in the dips and curves.

But then Ichigo pushed him away and stood from his lap. What the fuck? Grimmjow watched in disbelief as Ichigo calmly walked away from him, and headed for the living room doorway. Once there, he paused and glanced over his shoulder at Grimmjow.

"How long you plan on sitting there gaping at me?" he asked very softly.

Grimmjow stood so fast, he had a moment of vertigo, but pushed through it, and followed behind Ichigo to what he assumed was the bedroom.

His heart hammered in his chest, and his throat was clogged with anticipation. He was gonna fuck Ichigo stupid.

Once they entered the modest space, he wasted no time and pushed Ichigo back on the bed. The red head scowled defiantly, but Grimmjow was too preoccupied with getting rid of his clothes as quickly as possible. He didn't know where this almost desperate need was coming from, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. Not one little bit.

Once he pulled his shirt and jeans off, he paused at the look coming from Ichigo. The bedroom light was off, but the window's curtains were drawn back, allowing the moonlight to spill inside and illuminate the comfy space. Grimmjow could see how Ichigo's eyes had darkened with lust very clearly, and it only spurred him on.

Ichigo had only managed to rid himself of his shirt, so Grimmjow gave his jeans a pointed glare.

"What ya waitin' on?" he grumbled. Ichigo smiled coyly and undid the button and zipper, but stopped there. "Strawberry," Grimmjow growled, and that little bastard laughed.

"You want me that badly, Grimmjow?"

His dick twitched violently at the sound of his name coming from that soft baritone.

"Do I really need to fuckin' answer that?" he growled again through clenched teeth. Ichigo smirked, but lifted his hips and lowered the jeans and his boxers agonizingly slowly, gradually revealing the dips in his pelvis that led to...yesssss.

Grimmjow grasped the jeans by the ends, and yanked them-along with the boxers-off before pulling his own underwear down and stepping out of them. He grinned proudly at Ichigo's sharp intake of breath, once he was completely naked.

"Like what ya see?" he asked.

"Come find out."

Grimmjow's toes curled with excitement. Shit, this fucking strawberry was gonna kill him. He climbed on the bed and between Ichigo's legs, where he slowly lowered himself.

This was illegal. It had to be.

The initial contact drew moans from both men. Grimmjow almost shot his load at the sound of Ichigo's pleasure, and the sight of him tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, brow pulled into a scowl.

He dipped his head and captured Ichigo's kiss-swollen lips for another round of kissing. This time Grimmjow dominated thoroughly, dragging mewls and whimpers from the sweet strawberry, as he rotated his hips and ground him into the mattress. Ichigo pulled back, but tugged Grimmjow's piercings into his mouth, sucking gently, and it was so damned erotic that he almost let a very unmanly whine slip.

Fuck this.

Grimmjow reclaimed his bottom lip and trailed a wet line down Ichigo's jaw, around to his ear, then down his neck. Ichigo had his legs hooked around Grimmjow's and anytime a sensitive spot was found, they tightened. Grimmjow sucked on the red head's pulse, moving lower to the junction where neck met shoulder, and bit down harshly, drawing an excited gasp from Ichigo.

Picking up the pace, his lips traveled down to Ichigo's right nipple, and he swirled his tongue around the hardened nub, before gently sucking.

"Shit," Ichigo whispered, and drove his fingers into Grimmjow's hair.

Switching to the left nipple, Grimmjow laved and nibbled, before licking a trail down Ichigo's quivering abdomen, where he paused to dip his tongue into the small indentation callled a navel.

"Aha!" Ichigo cried out, and twisted his torso out of reach.

"Oh? Ticklish, Strawberry?" He teased, grinning at the cute behavior.

"Shutup!" the red head laughed breathlessly as Grimmjow tormented him, driving his tongue in and out of the tiny cavity. "Fuck! Stop already!"

Grimmjow complied with a soft chortle, and holding Ichigo's hips down, he teased the slit of his leaking erection with the tip of his tongue, before drawing the head into his mouth.

"Oh my-oh my god," Ichigo moaned.

Grimmjow gripped the base of the straining length, and took it in inch by salacious inch, sucking and swirling his tongue in a maddening fashion.

Ichigo tasted good, dammit.

"Fuckin'...Grimm-jow...unh..." Ichigo panted.

That's it, Strawberry, keep it comin'.

Grimmjow dragged his tongue along the underside of Ichigo's dick, before taking him back in his mouth and swallowing him whole. Ichigo arched off the bed and his hips jerked spastically. Grimmjow sucked harder, faster, and before he knew it, Ichigo came forcefully in his mouth, hand gripping the back of his head.

"Shiiiiiiit!" Ichigo moaned.

He swallowed quickly and moved over Ichigo's body like a snake on the hunt, before he lowered his head for a deep kiss. Ichigo ran his hands over Grimmjow's nipples, sides, back and down to his ass.

His dick screamed profanities.

"Lube?" he murmured against Ichigo's delectable lips.

"Yeah, hold on."

"I'm trying," Grimmjow muttered. He hadn't intended for Ichigo to hear that, but he had and chuckled softly as he rolled onto his side, fumbling with the nightstand drawer.

Ichigo climbed to his knees and handed the bottle to him. Grimmjow was in the process of covering the fingers of his right hand, when Ichigo unexpectedly bent forward and sucked his dick into his too hot mouth.

"Fuck!" he yelped, his hand immediately going for Ichigo's hair.

Ichigo ran his hands over his stomach and thighs, worshiping his erection and making Grimmjow moan helplessly. Then Ichigo ran his piercing along the underside of his dick, and he tugged the red head's hair a little more harshly than he intended.

That was close.

"Turn around," Grimmjow ordered, voice throaty and guttural.

Ichigo complied and positioned himself on all fours. Grimmjow probed his entrance with an already slick finger, before pushing in slowly, and Ichigo moaned and rotated his hips. Swallowing thickly, he worked his finger back and forth, gradually inserting another.

"Ah, yeah," Ichigo gasped.

Grimmjow was near exploding. Seriously.

"Fuck," he murmured to himself, and added a third finger. Ichigo jerked sharply, letting go a sexy yelp. "Yessss, there it is."

Grimmjow could no longer take the torture.

He quickly slathered his dick and lined himself up at Ichigo's now prepared hole, trying his hardest not to fucking drool at the sight. He pushed forward and searing heat enveloped him, as he fully seated himself inside the red head.

If god made anything better than Ichigo, then he kept it to himself.

Grimmjow had to strangle the overwhelming desire to just fuck the shit outta the strawberry, as he let him adjust. Ichigo had fallen to his elbows and moaned so beautifully, Grimmjow wanted to roar like a fucking lion.

Then Ichigo rolled his hips, and Grimmjow almost did roar.

"Fuck me, Grimmjow. Don't worry 'bout hurtin' me," he whimpered, squirming and trying to create more friction.

Grimmjow drove his hips forward once...twice...oh asked for it, Strawberry.

His control snapped like a brittle twig.

He reached forward, grabbed a fistful of Ichigo's bright orange spikes, and pounded into him repeatedly. Ichigo fisted the sheets and arched his back, keening loudly. Grimmjow, on the other hand, had become a raging beast, snarling and grunting as he dominated the poor red head.


"Ya like that shit, Strawberry?" Grimmjow growled.

"Fuck, yes!" Ichigo yelled almost desperately.

Grimmjow's eyes were rolling back, as liquid fire consumed his entire being, the sensation strongest around his pelvis. The hand not gripping Ichigo's hair, was in a death lock on his hip. Grimmjow was sweating and could feel the end hurtling towards him at a breakneck speed, but he was powerless to slow it down.

Not that he wanted to.

"Grimm-joowww! Shit, I'm comin'!" Ichigo whined.

Grimmjow hissed, and lost himself to the raw act of literally pummeling Ichigo, flesh against flesh creating wet slapping noises that filled the room, until the berry's insides clenched and began spasming uncontrollably.

What. The. Fuck.


Grimmjow really did roar.

His entire body shuddered as he slowly pulled out of Ichigo, and collapsed on the bed beside him. His chest was heaving, as he tried to regain a little of his discarded humanity.

Seriously. That was the best fucking sex he'd ever had in all of his twenty-six years.

Ichigo turned towards him, eyes closed, lips pulled into a smirk. He draped his arm across Grimmjow's chest, and promptly started snoring. Grimmjow smiled.

"Sexy fuckin' bitch," he murmured.

"Gorgeous asshole," Ichigo murmured back with a grin.

Grimmjow chuckled and kissed the strawberry's forehead, before drifting off.


Ichigo woke to an empty bed and an extremely sore bottom. What the hell? He looked around in confusion, knowing he hadn't dreamt last night's amazing activities.

He eased from the bed, dragging the sheet along with him and searched the apartment for the blue-haired man he had shared his bed with. When he'd traversed the entire place and turned up nothing, he plopped into his desk chair, grimacing from the pain.

Now he really felt like a fucking slut. He'd been used and then discarded like a napkin. Ichigo scowled deeply. He could've at least left his number.

Ichigo wasn't quite sure how to feel, after having the best sex of his severely inexperienced life with a virtual stranger. Then again, Grimmjow wasn't really a stranger anymore. They'd talked over the video game playing, and found that they shared a lot of common interests. Ichigo had had a lot of fun arguing with the handsome blunet.

Fuck it. He wasn't gonna sit around pining like some love-sick female.

Ichigo was rising from his seat, when he noticed a piece of paper resting on top of his closed laptop. It was a short note, and the handwriting was unfamiliar. A hopeful grin spreading across his features, he began reading.

Yo, Strawberry,

I had to make a quick getaway for work, but I'll be back later tonight. "No" ain't an option. I'll bring the games and food this time. See ya.


By the end of the note, Ichigo was smiling widely.

Fucking thank you, Lovedotcom.

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