Is it just me, or does Grimmjow get sexier every damn day? -TPP
Damn That Demon
Chapter Six: Hot Tamales
Ichigo stared at me with what could only be a mixture of complete terror and complete confusion.
I was still trying to process the concept that I had let my control slip for only a second, and look where that had gotten me. A desk left in biohazard splinters and a blushing boyfriend whose emotions were all over the radar, which in turn made me want to throw up.
I put a hand over my stomach as I tried to sift through my boyfriend's emotions, growling at myself for being so weak. Shit, sometimes when I was in tune with a human and they went off the fucking Richter scale of human emotion, it made me feel like I'd drank a bottle of Pepto Bismal mixed with crack cocaine, "Ichi, calm down."
"Calm down? I haven't even done anything!" Ichigo said, still looking at me in horror, "What – what the hell, Grimmjow?"
I turned my head to the side, completely sure that I was about to chuck everything that was in my stomach. Technically I didn't have to eat human food, but I did it for looks and I suppose kicks and giggles. Some human food was fucking delicious, and who was I to turn down a good meal?
But if I didn't get Ichigo to calm his crackling emotions, or at least get them to even out, I was pretty sure I would throw up all over the room, and neither of us would appreciate that.
So a distraction was in order.
"You just broke a fucking desk!" Ichigo screeched, staring at the broken useless thing in a cute mix of shock and horror, "Like it was a popsicle stick!"
I coughed a laugh, still clutching my stomach as I stood up straight again, locking my cerulean eyes on his caramel ones, "What'd'ja expect? I'm not exactly a runt, Ichi."
"Not even steroids could do that!"
I ran a hand through my hair. Distraction number two.
"These desks are so fucking old," I finally said, locking eyes with him and being a bit naughty. Time to turn up the heat before he kept digging me a deeper hole that I wasn't ready to confront, "It's not a big deal, Ichi. Focus on us right now."
Ichigo's breath hitched as I influenced him with my eyes. Playing dirty, I know, but I wasn't left with a lot of fucking options at this point. Besides, not many humans were strong enough to pull away from my predatory gaze. My eyes were one of the few things about my order of demon that made it fun, made catching my prey that much easier. My eyes were meant to scream sex: even if I was angry and wanted to kill whoever I was staring down, my prey always felt lustful towards me. Talk about a confusing way to die. Yeah, the demons I had killed never wanted to die, but most of them were helpless against it anyway. Some of them had even asked me to fuck them first, which I never did. Okay, I might be lying, but I'm a demon, y'know? Besides, fucking is at the core of my nature. I wouldn't survive otherwise.
Oh, did I mention I was a sex demon? An Espada, the highest, most powerful order of Incubi? You might of heard of my cousin, the Succubus, a female order of demon that feeds off of the vitality of men. Well how do you think Succubi are born, hm? No fucking stork delivers those monsters: they're made by demons like me, sired by demons like me. Only strong Incubi (males) and strong Succubi (females) can create Espada.
Trust me: I'm nearly a thousand years old and I still get the eebie jeebies thinking about my Ma and Pop getting it on to have me. Because Incubi and Succubi require a lot of sexual energy to survive, it takes a fucking long-ass time for a Succubi to become impregnated. When I was somewhere around six hundred years old, my Ma had told me that she had to be freaky with my Pop for nearly a decade straight before she became pregnant with me. Seriously. Fucking think about that for a minute: humans have sex once, maybe twice, and they're knocked up in no time, and they're usually tired as shit after round two or three.
Now you understand why a human would die if they mated with us more than once at a time: their bodies literally aren't equipped to handle it. Imagine, if you can, having sex for twenty-four hours straight. Now multiply that times twelve years. That's a lot of fucking sex, more than a human (or even some other demons) get in their entire fucking lifetime. But my parents had been ready to settle down, start a family, have kids and responsibilities and a family dog and all that other bullshit. And I, their second born, had been the fruit of their labor of twelve years of non-stop animalistic rough sex. Granted, time in hell is measured differently than on earth, but a human brain still can't grasp how necessary the act of sex is not only to our own survival but the survival of our offspring.
So you gotta give us demons our props: we're persistent little bastards.
Now for the next question: Grimmjow, have you sired any drop-dead, sexy, blue-haired heirs to continue the family line? The answer is no, simply because I'm barely one thousand years old. That's like asking a sixteen year-old Bible-toting kid if he's a virgin (the answer is usually yes and then they run away screaming and crying, reading feverishly from said Bible to keep Satan from whispering dark thoughts into their minds about masturbation). I don't know if that explanation really makes sense to you, but that's the basics. Besides, I'm not a man whore: I want what every other teenager in the world wants. A good, solid relationship with one person. A mate. Somebody I can have sex with for the rest of my life and never get tired of them. The problem is, I've never wanted a single human on this plain. Ever. And I'm still young, so my parents haven't been pushing it, but I'm already a thousand years old. That's about the time I'm supposed to claim a mate, take them back to the underworld and make them mine for all eternity. My mate (who is going to be Ichigo) has to agree to undergo the Blood Oath (something I'm sure will make Ichigo scream like a little girl) and then I have to take them (fuck their brains out) and then they become a hybrid and pretty much live forever (like me).
"SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT!" Ichigo practically screamed, slapping me repeatedly in the chest.
Oh. I had zoned out for a minute there, "What?"
"What the fuck is going on?" Ichigo demanded, slapping me a couple more times before realizing I wasn't even reacting to him. Espada are physically strong (we have to be. Didn't I just get finished explaining our vigorous sex lives?) so Ichigo's fingers felt like gusts of air. Nice air, though. The more I focused on his hands, the more I realized I was getting hard, and that was not good.
Not right now, anyway. Because if I fucked him, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop, and then my berry would be dead, and it would be all my fault because I'm cursed to be a horny motherfucker for all eternity (it has it's advantages, though. I mean come on, I'm practically fucking perfect).
"Ichigo," I said, locking my eyes on him and taking his hands in mine carefully, trying to make him focus. If I could just get him lost in my eyes for a second, I could think properly on how to handle the situation.
There were two (technically three) things I could do.
#1 (and my favorite): Fuck him stupid. Literally. If I fucked him once and channeled his emotions, chances were he'd wake up and think it had all been a dream. (But I had a sneaking suspicion that once would not be enough, and I might drive his fragile human brain to insanity on accident, and then where would we be?)
#2: Explain to him, oh-so-carefully, what exactly I was and why he needed to trust me.
#3: Knock him out, escape the Naughty Room, and hunt down Gin to erase his memories for me. (Oh, I forgot to mention that he's a Kitsune, a fox demon. No, Narutards, he's not a nine-tailed fox demon trapped in a kid's belly button for shits and giggles. He's a Kitsune fox demon, one of the few demons not born in hell but in the human plain. They're sly quick demons, but they're pretty much the equivalent of a fucking fairy. Yeah, a fairy. I make fun of him all the time for it, at least until he gets pissed, snaps his fingers, and my mouth disappears until he feels like giving it back to me. Never fuck with a fox demon.)
But I'm getting sidetracked again. What to do…what to do…
"Dammit," I sigh, leaning into him and sniffing his essence. Not only does he physically smell good, but his emotions have started to settle (lots of thanks to my eyes) and his lust level is starting to spike higher, like a teakettle beginning to bubble on a stove. Absolutely mouthwatering.
I tilt his chin up and kiss him, chuckling when I hear him whine in the back of his throat as my tongue begins to caress his, exploring. Maybe there's an option number four: don't fuck him, just tease him, and his mind will short-circuit itself and he'll lose his short-term memory.
At least that's what I hope happens. I've never been as careful with a human as I have been with Ichi. I'm being all gentlemanly and shit; I've been trying to woo him. I wanted to roll my eyes: all an Espada had to do was crook a finger and send a smoky stare and their target would usually flop on their back and spread their legs, but I didn't want that with Ichigo. I wanted him to want me as much as I wanted him.
Che, I'm such a fucking masochist. I hadn't been kidding when I had teased Ichigo about him being a Succubus. Of course he's male, but I detect some kind of power in him, something hidden deep in his blood. Maybe, somewhere back in his long family line, one of his ancestors had canoodled with one of my kind. We usually did, even if we took an eternal mate, some of them kept messing with humans to keep up their energy. Sometimes human women were so physically or spiritually attractive to our kind that an Incubus's essence, or sexual power, could be passed on to the human women's future children, like a genetic gene. At least, that's what I suspected of Ichigo, because it had to be more than just my undeniable attraction. The kid had a little something extra, something he didn't even know he had.
And I couldn't fucking believe he was still a virgin. I could practically taste it on him as I continued to suck his face off.
He moaned as I moved one of my hands down his chest, settling it on his belt buckle and tugging gently.
"Ichigo…" I whispered in his ear, nipping the lobe as he panted, "What do you want me to do to you?"
Suddenly, Ichigo's entire body went limp as I exerted my sexual pressure. Kind of like spiritual pressure with angels, but much, much hotter. But maybe I'd laid it on too thick, considering I'd knocked Ichi out cold. Oops.
Oh well. I sighed, laying him down gently on the ground, hoping he'd be out for a few minutes as I tried to think of what to do with the broken desk. I stared at it, deciding it was much easier to incinerate than to pick up and dispose of properly. I'm a lazy bastard sometimes, and it's just too convenient to be able to snap your fingers and have blue flames appear. I got down on my haunches, the blue flames licking up my arms nearly to my elbows as I reached my hands out and touched the wood. The hellfire incinerated the wood to fine, powdery black dust on contact. Did I mention hellfire is not only one thousand times hotter than human fire, but corrosive? Soon even the dust was eaten away to nothing and I decided to prop Ichigo up in the other desk, laying his head on top of his folded arms.
I took a seat on the floor in the corner, sighing heavily while running a now normal-looking hand through my thick blue hair, waiting for my future mate to wake the hell up.
I blinked several times to focus, realizing drool was wetting my arm. I sat up quickly, feeling heat rush through my body as I remembered my daydream. God, that had been too fucking weird. I didn't smoke pot, I'd never touched shrooms, but I had to imagine my crazy-as-all-fuck dream had been a trippy experience.
"How long you plannin' to sleep for?" came a husky voice which made my dick stir. I stiffened (my whole body, not just my dick) as I craned my head to look in the corner at my blue-haired bastard of a boyfriend, wondering why he was grinning at me like he had just pulled off the greatest bank heist of a lifetime.
"How long have I been out?" I questioned, rubbing my eyes. Jesus, that dream had felt like forever…
"A long fucking time," Grimmjow shrugged, pulling his knees up to rest his arms on them, "Startin' ta' worry about ya. Soi Fon should be back any minute now."
Seriously? I shook my head several times, running my hands through my hair, "I don't even remember falling asleep."
Grimmjow shrugged again, "No big deal. You were tired. I get it."
"But…"I knew my cheeks were flushed, "That felt so real."
"I had a crazy ass dream," I admitted, holding out my hands for emphasis before staring at them, "It was like…you were the Incredible Hulk or something. I had a freak out, but then you were so calm about it, like it was no big deal. And then you did this thing with your eyes…"
"No, shit head," I said, frowning at him, "It was like…you were freaking hypnotizing me or something. I couldn't move, and then you kissed me…"
"I like that part," Grimmjow said slyly, wiggling his blue eyebrows at me suggestively.
"Fuck you," I said, flicking him off, "Whatever. This was the worst detention ever."
"I wouldn't say that," Grimmjow chuckled.
"I get my ass thrown in here to be with you, and I fall asleep. How is that not the worst detention ever?"
Grimmjow's leer made me swallow convulsively, "The Naughty Room isn't going anywhere, Ichi."
Right when he chuckled at my crimson face, the door rattled to the room, revealing a stoic Soi Fon.
She looked around the room at both boys, her eyes narrowing, "Where's the second desk?"