Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Hand in mine, into your icy blues
And then I'd say to you we could take the highway
With this trunk of ammunition too
I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets
"An' proud of it, Kurosaki. Dontcha ever forget it."
Ichigo stared disdainfully at his hated nemesis, his family rival, his worst goddamned nightmare: Grimmjow fucking Jaegerjaques. He and Grimmjow got along like oil and water, which, as you could imagine, was not at all. They were currently in the cafeteria of Karakura High, seated at their self-designated tables, which just so happened to be directly across from each other. Ichigo was perched on the table top, legs resting on the picnic bench-styled seat as he glared over at the blue-haired bastard that he absolutely could not stand.
Grimmjow was seated in much the same fashion, thick arms crossed over his broad chest as he shot daggers at Ichigo with those incredibly deep, blue eyes. Grimmjow wore a form-fitting, long-sleeved, gray, v-neck tee with acid washed blue jeans that hung low on his hips and were barely held in place by a thunder cloud gray, cloth belt. He was handsome, that Ichigo couldn't and wouldn't deny, but he was also the enemy and therefore off limits as hell.
Grimmjow gave him a smirk that curled his upper lip and Ichigo gave the blue-haired boy the finger. Grimmjow barked a laugh, making his entourage join him. His entourage included the ever present blond, Ilforte Grantz, the annoying dark-haired boy, Luppi, that was shorter than Ichigo's little sisters and had more mouth than a Great White shark, the sinfully lazy brunet, Starrk Coyote, and a tall, buxom blonde with clear, green eyes named Tia Halibel, but everyone called her Halibel. They surrounded the blunet like a safety net and Grimmjow soaked up the attention like a starved child.
Ichigo shook his head and finally took a seat at the table the correct way. He lifted his head from his lunch tray and locked gazes with Szayel, who was watching him intently, pink eyebrows arched with amusement and mustard-colored eyes dancing with mirth. Ichigo scowled and glanced away, wondering why his friend had been looking at him like that.
The low rumbling of Grimmjow's laughter distracted him and had Ichigo looking over his shoulder surreptitiously. He watched as the blue-haired teen grinned at him and stuck out his long, pink tongue, a silver stud decorating its center. Ichigo's breath hitched, but he narrowed his eyes at Grimmjow, trying to hide the fact that the sight of that tongue had his stomach in knots and his loins reacting awkwardly. Everything about Grimmjow affected him the wrong way. Ichigo didn't deny his sexual preference for guys, but, in his family, being attracted to the enemy was equivalent to going bungee jumping without the cord.
The Jaegerjaques family and the Kurosaki family had never gotten along, simply because the heads of each, ran lucrative weapons industries and were competing for the top spot. It was trivial, but in the corporate world, it was law. There was always the saying, "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer", but in this case, it was strictly forbidden for a Kurosaki to consort with a Jaegerjaques, none of the higher ups thinking that if the two were joined, the ending result would benefit both sides.
There was too much pride involved.
And since Ichigo happened to be a Kurosaki and Grimmjow a Jaegerjaques, it was only natural for them to hate each other, taking verbal jabs at one another and trading insults whenever their paths crossed. It was especially critical since they attended the same high school and were under daily observation. Regular students worshiped them, some on different levels, while others envied and talked badly about them behind their backs, never to their faces. Either way, it didn't matter. They were rich and popular and lived by a completely discrepant set of rules. Reality didn't affect them the way it did for other people.
Ichigo let his eyes roam over the blue-haired teen, slowly taking in the black, scripted words tattooed on each side of his strong, tanned neck and down the insides of his forearms that were revealed by the sleeves to his shirt being rolled up. Ichigo stowed away the sight of the silver, mid-ear cuffs on both ears, as well as the 00 gauges in each lobe. Grimmjow was a beautiful specimen from his head down to his shoes, which happened to be gun metal gray, low-top Converse sneakers. When Ichigo met Grimmjow's gaze, there was a slow, contemplative look in those cold blue eyes, making Ichigo fight a blush as he turned away.
What the hell had he been thinking staring at the blue-haired teen like that?
Ichigo shook his head, unaware of the looks being exchanged between Szayel and Ilforte.
"Alright, I'll see you there," Ichigo said before disconnecting his phone call.
Ichigo grinned into the bathroom's full-body mirror at his reflection, turning first to the right, then to the left as he studied his costume. Earlier that week, Szayel had invited him to a Halloween party he and his brother, Ilforte, were throwing at his family's mansion and Ichigo was dressing to kill, as well as having fun with the idea. He had temporarily dyed his shoulder-length, bright orange hair a deep auburn and styled it in a wind-tossed fashion. Unlike the character he was imitating for the night, Ichigo's hair was shorter on the sides and up top, only managing to cover his brow and taper down his neck, but it would still work for the look he was trying to achieve.
He adjusted the tight, black, spandex pants that had horizontal, magenta stripes running down the sides of each leg, as well as the equally tight, magenta body shirt that hugged every last line and curve of his torso, showing off his clearly defined abdomen and pectorals. Ichigo slipped his feet into a pair of mock, knee-length armored boots (they were only combat boots dressed up to look like armor) and tugged the black head gear over his head, adjusting it to his hairline and around his face. He grabbed a pair of black leather gloves and snipped off the fingers for the thumb, index and pinkie fingers of both before pulling them onto his hands, where they fit snugly.
Ichigo turned to the large, beige marble-top sink where he'd stowed his long, camel-brown trench coat and slid into it. He chuckled at his reflection and grabbed the silver staff he'd leaned against the wall near the sink. After one last look in the mirror, Ichigo grinned saucily and left the bathroom, flicking off the light as he went.
He had a Halloween party to attend at the Grantz's mansion.
Grimmjow gave his blond friend a bland look over his shoulder. "What the hell're ya talkin' 'bout?" he snapped.
His costume was NOT cheesy.
Ilforte smiled and leaned back on his hands on Grimmjow's large, plush bed, adorned with a deep purple sheet and comforter, as well as matching pillow cases. "It most certainly is. You make me wanna get out my souvenir maracas and start singing 'La Cucaracha'," Ilforte drawled.
Grimmjow scowled, but couldn't hold back the laugh that was fighting to escape him. "Fuck you," he grumbled good-naturedly.
He turned back to the mirror on the back of his bedroom door and stared at his costume, wondering where he'd gone wrong. It looked exactly like the pictures he'd Googled on the internet. He was wearing the disc-like black hat, a black bandana to cover his hair, a black, silk scarf over his eyes, with holes cut out for him to be able to see, a black, linen, billowy, long-sleeved shirt that cuffed at the wrists, a large, black silk sash around his waist, black pants that fit him tighter than he liked, black, knee-length boots and a black cape. To top off the costume, he donned a pair of black, leather gloves, stuck a silver fencing sword at his right hip and temporarily dyed his bright blue hair an inky black.
In his opinion, his costume was perfect.
"I don' see the problem with it," he continued to grumble, making Ilforte scoff from his spot on the oversized bed.
"Grimmjow, you look like Puss n' Boots! Get rid of the fuckin' cape and the corny ass hat! Please! Christ, I'm gonna start callin' you Antonio Banderas in a minute," the blond said with a smirk as he sat up and perched on the edge of the bed.
Grimmjow turned and gave his friend a deadpan stare. "That's the point, dumbass. I'm supposed ta be Zorro!" he said, pulling out his sword and brandishing it, knocking over the bottle of lotion and deodorant on his dresser in the process.
Ilforte covered his grin with the back of his hand. "Right. You're a shitty ass swordsman, then."
Grimmjow flipped the other teen the bird and continued scowling. "Your costume ain't no better," he muttered, turning back to the mirror and untying the cape from around his neck.
Ilforte sucked his teeth and feigned hurt. "I'll have you know that I worked really hard on my costume."
It was Grimmjow's turn to scoff as he chucked the hat to his outfit in the corner of his room. "Yeah, right. It must take a helluva lotta effort ta look like a bum."
Ilforte chuckled and rose from the bed, fishing around in his dark blue jeans pockets. "Well, I don' wanna be the usual vampire or, kami forbid, a fuckin' ghost slash skeleton," he spat, his blond brows creasing in annoyance.
Grimmjow chuckled and ran a hand over his concealed head, resting it on the knot that held his mask together. "I can' wait ta see how many chicks come as witches and playboy bunnies."
Ilforte guffawed and paused at Grimmjow's back, waiting for him to move from in front of the bedroom door. "So true, but you forgot she-devils and slutty maids," he added.
Grimmjow gave his friend an amused grin as he pulled the door open and stood to the side. "Yeah, yer right. I'll see ya at the party."
Ilforte nodded and left the room, but before he disappeared down the wide, off-white hallway, he said over his shoulder, "Don' forget to leave that hat and cape at home, Grimmjow, or else I'll kick your ass outta my party."
Grimmjow slammed his bedroom door in response, a wide grin gracing his features.
Ilforte was an idiot.
Grimmjow hopped out of the back seat of the black, luxury sedan, knowing full well that he planned to get shit-faced, hence the designated driver for the night. He turned and peered back into the leather-smelling vehicle at Shawlong. "Yo, Shaw, don' wait up," he grunted, his hand on the shiny black door.
Shawlong turned to face him and nodded stiffly. "Yes, but Grimmjow-sama, do be careful. You know how your father gets when you're out late," he said, his drawling monotone holding a slight hint of concern.
Grimmjow nodded and slammed the door shut before heading inside the humongous mansion through the elaborate double door entrance. The doors had to be at least fifteen feet high and were carved out of the most expensive cherry wood one could imagine. The rest of the sprawling abode was made of ancient gray stone, the architecture lending an antique feel to the building.
Grimmjow made his way past white rose bushes shaped in the form of the letter "G". There was a large fountain out front, sporting a naked cherubic statue that reeked of Greece and the driveway that Shawlong had pulled into was circular, the ground made up of multicolored cobblestones. In short, the house was beautiful and took up more land than a shopping center.
As he shuffled into the house, making sure his sword was still securely by his side, he could hear loud music coming from the lower level of the colossal house. Grimmjow headed over to the silver double doors a little past the foyer, where a short, red-haired kid stood, sucking on a bright red lollipop.
"Yo, Jinta. Who's here so far?" Grimmjow asked, making the shorter boy crane his neck to get a good look at him.
Jinta shrugged before turning back to the doors and a tiny gold panel beside them. He pressed a round, milky white button with the letter "B" on it and sighed. "I don't know. There's already so many," he answered.
Grimmjow nodded as they waited for the elevator to ascend from the lower level of the house, Jinta sucking noisily on his lollipop as they did so. Grimmjow allowed his mind to wander back to earlier that day in school during lunch. He was used to arguing and bickering with that low-life, Kurosaki, but today, he'd felt something a little different. Sure, they had traded the usual insults, had even flipped each other off a few times, but then Kurosaki had to go and make him THINK.
Kurosaki had given him a look that had definitely made him again wonder what it would be like to actually be with his arch rival, or at the very least, sleep with him. Kurosaki was different from his younger sisters with his shoulder-length, bright orange hair and lazy, satiny brown eyes. Grimmjow hated the freckles on the other teen's face because he'd always liked them. Oxymoron much?
Yeah, well, he'd always had a thing for freckles and dimples and Kurosaki had the audacity to have both, so he hated them. That wasn't where the contradictions ended, though. Grimmjow hated the fact that Kurosaki had a body that he admired. It wasn't like his own, where it was cut and showed how all the hard work in the family gym had paid off, no. Kurosaki was toned and all sleek muscle. Grimmjow had only ever seen Kurosaki's arms and lower legs during Phys Ed, but there had been one time during lunch that he'd seen the teen's subtly chiseled abdomen, when he'd been showing off a tattoo of a black dragon he'd just gotten. Grimmjow had been embarrassed to realize he'd been staring and had been grateful that no one had seen him.
Aside from Kurosaki's tempting body, Grimmjow noticed that the teen didn't mind being different. Kurosaki had to be the only male in existence – that he knew of – that had a nose stud. The tiny, diamond stud rested on his right nostril and sparkled whenever the light hit it the right way. It had fascinated the hell out of Grimmjow when he'd first noticed it. Kurosaki also had his left eyebrow, upper ears and tongue pierced. His ear piercings were industrial and the tongue stud he favored was the same color blue as Grimmjow's eyes.
The tongue ring had given him pause several times. Kurosaki had gotten it maybe a few months after Grimmjow had gotten his own – which had been cause for gloating and more arrogant comments – and he'd been mesmerized. Kurosaki had a great smile and when he laughed, his deep, throaty voice was only made better by the sight of that tongue stud.
Grimmjow knew that his attraction to his enemy was treading on thin ice, which was why he kept it under wraps. No one needed to know that he visually molested his hated peer on a near daily basis. He knew that if his father found out, he would probably be sent to Antarctica for his betrayal. The Jaegerjaques family did NOT associate with the Kurosaki family. At all.
Which led him back to the sensation he'd felt earlier in school. Kurosaki had looked over his shoulder at him and...studied him...from head to feet and back. It made goosebumps appear over his skin as he entertained naughty thoughts of banging his arch nemesis into a wall...or bed...or sink...whatever they happened to be close to at the time would suffice. Grimmjow'd had to shake his head fervently after Kurosaki had looked away, just to banish those thoughts.
Grimmjow stepped onto the elevator once it arrived and waved at Jinta, who gave him a salute before the doors slid shut. The short ride to the basement did nothing to settle his nerves, but the instant the doors reopened, the thumping bass to Lil Wayne's "6 Foot 7 Foot" washed over him and vibrated his insides and the smell of cigarette and marijuana smoke filled his sinuses, hiking his adrenaline to "unhealthy".
He scanned the crowded space that was normally cavernous, with pale blue walls and dark, hardwood flooring. All the furniture – which only consisted of a black, leather sofa and love seat, a glass coffee table and two glass end tables – had been removed. A huge, mounted flat-screen TV showed music videos while the music played in the background, the regular lights were dimmed and strobe lights illuminated the dance area, making the sea of dancing people look like a scene from a horror flick.
Grimmjow pushed through the writhing mass of dancers and made his way towards the raised and lighted bar at the far end of the room, having spotted Ilforte's snobby fraternal twin, Szayel. Szayel wore a pair of black slacks, a white, collared shirt with a gold and burgundy striped tie and a black and burgundy cloak-styled robe. Grimmjow grinned and shook his head incredulously when he realized who the pink-haired teen was dressed as.
"'Ello, 'Arry!" he shouted into Szayel's ear once he was right beside him.
Szayel whirled around and glared at him, placing his hands on his narrow hips. A few seconds passed before Szayel's lips curved into a wide, devious grin and a single, elegantly sculpted, pink eyebrow arched. "Shall I get my sombrero, Senor?" he asked coyly.
Grimmjow scowled beneath his mask and rolled his eyes, shoving past the shorter boy to the counter of the bar. Grimmjow laughed at the sight of the dark-haired Grantz cousin standing behind the counter, his arms folded across his chest and his face fixed into a sneering pout. His rectangular framed glasses hid his dark blue eyes and his inky hair framed the sides of his angular face. He wasn't even wearing a costume, unless jeans and a tee qualified as such.
"What's wrong, Ishida? Not feelin' the Halloween spirit?" Grimmjow questioned sarcastically.
Ishida gazed down his nose at him, even though Grimmjow was clearly the taller person. "Why should I humiliate myself, dressing as something I'm obviously not and ingesting too much alcohol, only to further make a fool of myself while dancing?"
Grimmjow curled his upper lip back, his mouth opening slightly as he gave Ishida a blank stare. What the hell was he going on about? "Ohhh-kaayyy, whatever. Gimme a shot a'Patron," he ordered casually.
Ishida turned and went about pouring the drink, while Grimmjow gave his attention back to his friend's brother. "Szayel, how the hell did you an' Ilforte get the key ta yer old man's liquor cabinet?" he asked, curious because the Grantz sire was notorious for keeping it under padlock and key.
Szayel grinned as he lifted a small glass of something pink to his lips. "We didn't. We got the key to our mother's," he replied, his mustard-colored eyes shimmering with amusement.
Grimmjow barked a laugh, but before he could say anything else, Ishida cleared his throat loudly. "Here, buffoon."
Grimmjow shot the dark-haired boy a nasty look and growled, "Watch yer fuckin' mouth."
Ishida just gave him a dead stare. "You know, Grimmjow, if you really wanted to scare someone, you might try NOT looking so ridiculous," he drawled.
Grimmjow frowned and started to lean over the bar, when his arm was tugged and he came face to face with broadly smiling blond. Ilforte was dressed in a tattered, black tee that was filthy and littered with holes and tears of various sizes. His blue jeans were no better, ripped widely at the knees and around the ankles and the pair of white sneakers he wore had definitely seen better days. His long, usually lustrous hair was tied back in a low ponytail and a dark cable knit hat was pulled down over his ears. Ilforte had apparently smudged dark makeup spots over his face to give the illusion of dirt and in his mouth was a set of fake teeth that were brown and gross. Grimmjow doubled over with laughter.
"Holy shit! 'Forte, ya look a mess!" he cackled.
Ilforte's grin spread. "Dass da point," he slurred through the fake teeth.
Grimmjow remembered his drink and knocked it back. He started to demand more, but Ilforte gripped his arm and pulled him away from the bar. Frowning, he tried to resist, but Ilforte insisted and dragged him towards a raised table on the other side of the room. Grimmjow climbed onto one of the equally raised stools and grinned at the sight of several bottles of alcohol strewn across the table top.
"What's this? VIP?" he asked.
Ilforte opened his mouth to speak, scowled and pulled the set of fake teeth out of his mouth. Working his mouth a bit, the blond teen sighed. "That's better. And I guess you could call it VIP. I just didn't wanna deal with Uryuu all night, so I pilfered a few bottles from my mother's liquor cabinet just for us," he said.
"Jeez, how big is yer mom's liquor cabinet, Ilforte?"
"Oh, well, we call it a cabinet, but it's really more like a cellar. It's underneath us, actually. My mom is a total lush. Plus, she likes to throw these huge parties, so you know. Extra alcohol required. Thankfully, she and the old man are out of town for the weekend."
Grimmjow grunted and ran his hand over his concealed hair. He was getting hot, so he removed the leather gloves on his hands and untied the bandana over his hair, leaving the eye mask in place. He ran his hand over his hair again, careful not to disturb the slicked back style he'd adapted for the evening. He didn't realize that Ilforte was watching him until he looked up and caught his friend's gaze.
"That looks much better," the blond stated absently before glancing out at the swaying school of bodies.
Grimmjow shrugged and followed his friend's line of vision, eyes widening at what he saw. He needed another drink. After he poured himself another shot of tequila, he allowed his eyes to hungrily devour the teen standing on the other side of the dance floor. Grimmjow recognized the costume as the X-Men character, Gambit. He didn't recognize the reddish-brown hair that was shining under the blinking party lights, but the body on the kid was superb.
It kind of reminded him of Kurosaki's body.
Grimmjow smirked as he downed another shot of tequila, making it his third. Another guy with a body like Kurosaki's, was lucky indeed. He could hit on him without feeling bad for going against his family. Grimmjow watched the boy glide through the bodies gathered on the floor and towards the bar, where he stopped to get something to drink. From there, Grimmjow's view was obscured, so he turned to Ilforte, who was already giving him a sideways smile.
"See somethin' you like?" he asked.
Grimmjow smiled in return and nodded. "Hell, yeah. Didja see that guy with the long, trench coat? I think he's 'posed ta be Gambit from X-Men. He's fuckin' hot," he ended in a mumble as his eyes went back to the bar and searched for said guy.
Ilforte hummed as his smile reached his sideburns. "I think I know that guy."
Grimmjow's head swung around so fast, he almost got whiplash. "Wha? Ya know him?" he asked, eyes wide and nearly desperate.
If Ilforte knew that sexy ass guy, then those were less steps Grimmjow needed to take in order to get in the other man's pants, which he had every intention of doing. He hadn't been laid in like forever and he refused to go another night without relieving that stress.
"You know 'im, too," Ilforte said, lazily bringing a shot glass to his lips as he watched Grimmjow over the rim.
That made Grimmjow pause. HE knew him too? In that case, Gambit could be anyone. Grimmjow threw back another shot and furrowed his brow. Where did he know him from? Grimmjow peered over at Ilforte and sighed. Ilforte was wearing that look that said "That's all you're getting out of me" and Grimmjow knew that no amount of pressing would make his friend reveal Gambit's identity.
It was up to him to figure out the secret on his own.
Ichigo sat down at the round, black table Szayel had set aside for their group, drink in hand as he playfully nudged Tatsuki to the side. Tatsuki had her dark, spiky hair down and wore a black, leather bustier, tight black leather pants and black, leather, knee-high, stiletto boots. When Ichigo had asked her what she was supposed to be, she had simply replied, "A slut."
Chado wore a black sweater, black jeans and black Timberland boots. His wavy, cocoa brown hair hid his right eye and there was dark makeup around his left eye like a bruise and around his mouth, indicating someone had sewn it shut. It made sense considering how little Chado spoke.
Renji was dressed as a police officer, his long, bright red hair flowing over his broad shoulders and the black uniform hugging his muscular body like it missed him. Ichigo had to keep himself from drooling at his friend, knowing the red head was very straight and pretty much a whore. Renji didn't discriminate. If it had boobs and a pussy, he was going to fuck it. Ichigo was just glad Renji was safe in his activities, always making sure he used a condom to prevent STDs and other nasty side effects of casual sex.
At the moment, Renji had his eyes glued to a tall, green-haired girl on the other side of the room. Ichigo knew who she was; she was Grimmjow's cousin, Neliel tu Odershvank. If boobs were cars, Nel's would be a top of the line Maserati; they were huge and spilling out of the playboy bunny costume she wore. Her waist was tiny, her hips wide and legs long and shapely. She was any straight guy's wet dream, which was why Renji had her in his sights.
Ichigo had already downed several glasses of white rum and pineapple juice, his head light and body buzzing pleasantly and aside from a few stubborn chicks hitting on him, he was enjoying his night.
"Ichigo, what made you dress as Gambit?" Tatsuki suddenly asked, her dark eyes glowing with curiosity.
He shrugged and sipped at his seventh drink, eyes taking in the darkened basement of Szayel's family's mansion. The room was huge, with a high ceiling and glossy, hardwood flooring. The atmosphere was very club-like and sophisticated for a house party thrown by two teenage boys. Ichigo chuckled at the inebriated bodies dancing like a bunch of toddlers on the floor, the alcohol he'd consumed beginning to catch up to him and casting a hazy blanket over his senses. That was the thing with rum. It sneaked up on you and by the time you realized it, you were already hammered.
The rapidly flashing lights illuminated the dance floor and for a quick couple seconds, Ichigo spotted what he thought had to be a kami itself, nodding and swaying drunkenly to Kevin Rudolf's "I Made It". He was dressed from head to toe in all black, a mask covering his eyes, but not his head of thick, raven-colored hair. He was tall, muscular and had a devious smirk that smacked loudly of Ichigo's enemy, Grimmjow. It couldn't be him, though; this guy had jet-black hair and besides, Ichigo hadn't seen the blue-haired teen all night.
Ichigo bypassed his mixed drink, poured himself a shot of straight rum and knocked it back, his stomach simmering and head swimming. A slim hand extended towards him from his left, making him turn to see who it belonged to. Szayel, dressed as Harry Potter, stared at him, pink eyebrows arched in amusement.
"Are you sure you should be doing that, Ichigo?" he asked, a small grin tugging at his lips.
Ichigo snorted and poured another shot, downing that one as well. He wanted to be good and twisted before he went out on the dance floor to study that sexy guy he'd just seen. "Yeah, m'pretty sure," he said slowly, enunciating his words carefully.
Tatsuki and Renji burst into laughter and Ichigo swung his head towards them, regretting the action immediately after he did it. He closed his eyes and decided that maybe the two extra shots he'd just drunk were enough to accomplish the goal he had in mind.
Still...he wanted to know what was so damned funny.
Before he could ask, Tatsuki took the initiative and placed a hand on his shoulder, her dark eyes gleaming with unbridled mirth. "Ichigo, you are officially fucked up," she stated.
Renji grinned over the rim of the small shot glass he held to his lips, nodding his head in agreement. Suddenly, Nel walked a little too close to their table and Renji's hand shot out like a viper, gripping her wrist before she could make it past. He set his glass on the table and stood, body in full predator mode as he led the tall girl towards the dance floor. Ichigo watched them with an air of mild curiosity and a lot of amusement and was disturbed to see Nel looking back at him with a lecherous kind of light in her gray eyes.
Ichigo rubbed his eyes and shook his head disbelievingly. When he looked back at the couple, they were already on the dance floor, moving like they were fucking with clothes on. Renji's right hand had maneuvered its way between Nel's parted thighs and was shamelessly cupping her sex through the black one piece body suit she wore. Ichigo grinned and nodded.
That was more like it.
For a minute he'd thought Nel had been looking at him like she wanted him instead of his red-haired friend.
The track switched and it took Ichigo all the way until the chorus to realize it was one of his favorite songs. When he did notice it, he surged from his seat, knocking over his empty shot glass and making Tatsuki erupt into another fit of giggles. He lumbered towards the dance floor, mouth numb and body having a mind of its own.
In the back of the car
On our way to the bar
I got you on my lips
(I got you on my lips)
At the foot of the stairs
With my fingers in your hair
Baby, this is it
He stumbled into the mass of gyrating and swaying bodies, bumping, none too softly, into other dancers, but everyone appeared too drunk to give a fuck. Ichigo had already divested himself of his long, brown trench coat, leaving him clad only in the tight, magenta body shirt and the tight, black and magenta pants. He was hot, he was wasted and he was having the time of his life. The only thing that would make his night even better would be getting laid by that hot guy he'd seen a little while ago.
My first kiss went a little like this
I said no more sailors
And no more soldiers
With your name in a heart
Tattooed up in the shoulders
Your kiss is like whiskey
It gets me drunk
And I wake up in the morning
With the taste of your tongue
Ichigo moved his body to the uptempo beat and sang along to the lyrics, brushing aside girls that tried to get too close to him. After a few attempts, they seemed to get the message. He was immersed in the music, when a strong pair of hands gripped his waist and a long, solid and firm body aligned with his from behind. Ichigo paused his dancing to look over his shoulder and his eyes went wide.
It was him!
Ichigo, too drunk to care about dancing courtesy, whirled around to face the taller guy, blinking up at him and trying to focus on one of the three sets of eyes he saw. The guy stared down at him with eyes bluer than any Ichigo had ever seen before and he'd seen a pair that he'd always thought outdid the sky in the Summer.
Music forgotten, Ichigo pressed himself closer to the other teen, trying his hardest to study him and figure out why he'd never seen him before. The dark-haired male wrapped his arms around Ichigo's waist and narrowed those endlessly blue eyes, his mouth moving, making Ichigo realize that he was talking.
"What?" he shouted over the blaring music.
The taller boy smirked and again Ichigo was smothered with familiarity. "I said nice costume. Wha's yer name?" he slurred.
Ichigo shuddered at the sound of his deep, rumbling voice, ignoring the tugging at the back of his conscience, telling him that he knew this guy. He recovered more quickly than he'd thought he would, being as intoxicated as he was. "Gambit. Can'tchu tell?"
The tall boy's smirk widened as he leaned in closer, placing his mouth right next to Ichigo's ear and breathing warm air over it as he spoke. "Well, in that case, I'm Zorro."
Ichigo grinned and boldly placed a hand on Zorro's black, sash clad hip. "Nice t'meetcha, Zurro," he replied.
Zorro chuckled and if it was possible, moved even closer. "Nice ta meet ya too, Gambit. How 'bout we get outta here an' talk somewhere else?"
Ichigo'd thought he'd never ask.
"Hell yeah," he breathed in response.
Zorro held onto Ichigo's waist and led him away from the dance floor. They both stumbled and bumped into other teens, heading for the elevator in search of a little privacy. Ichigo couldn't help but think how out of character he was behaving, hooking up with some random guy, even if he was drunker than a sailor on leave. Then, he pushed the thought to the side, his raging libido winning out over his morale.
He would have time to think about that after the deed was done.
They finally made it to the silver doors marking the elevator and Zorro stabbed the call button repeatedly before turning to him and giving him a lopsided grin that made Ichigo's heart jump. He was so sexy with his dark hair and ocean blue eyes, it was almost surreal. Ichigo leaned against the wall, his eyes sliding shut as they waited on the elevator. His eyes hadn't even been closed for more than a few seconds when that deep voice was rumbling in his ear again.
"I ain' losin' ya, am I?" Zorro asked.
Ichigo smiled saucily, his eyes still closed. "Not hardly," he muttered.
A soft nip to the shell of his ear had his eyes shooting open in shock as arousal swept him like a broom. "Good 'cuz I got plans for ya," Zorro growled and the sound went straight to Ichigo's groin like it was remote controlled.
The elevator doors slid back and Ichigo pushed away from the wall, his feet catching together, but Zorro's strong arm held him up by the waist as they staggered into the luxury pulley. Ichigo swallowed, his head swimming and vision blurring together, but his lower region was aching and agitated, yearning to be touched by the taller, dark-haired teen. All reservations thrown out the window, he pushed Zorro against the wall and gripping the back of the other boy's neck, Ichigo pulled him down far enough to sloppily connect their lips.
They both reeked of alcohol and Zorro even tasted mildly like tobacco, but Ichigo didn't care. In fact, he was enjoying it. Enjoying it maybe a bit too much, he realized as he immediately opened his mouth to Zorro's anxiously probing tongue. It hadn't taken any time at all for the dark-haired teen to reciprocate the clumsy lip-lock and before Ichigo knew it, they were deeply immersed in a kiss that had his head reeling beyond that of what the alcohol was doing to him. Although, he would admit, he was so drunk that anything would probably feel good, his nerves hyper sensitive to the slightest touch.
Zorro growled low in his chest, the noise coming out as a thick burr that lifted the fine hairs all over Ichigo's body. Zorro put both large hands on Ichigo's hips and drew him close enough to make them appear like two puzzle pieces fitting together as he tilted his head and deepened the messy kiss, teeth nipping and tongue violating in the best way.
It was pretty obvious to Ichigo that they were both past the stage of pleasantly buzzed. Hell, they were even light-years beyond drunk; they were fucking bent like silly straws. Ichigo gasped when Zorro's mouth left his and attacked the underside of his chin and trailed down to the side of his neck, their positions being reversed as the other boy pressed Ichigo against the wall of the elevator. Zorro maneuvered a knee between Ichigo's legs and bit down harshly at his pulse, dragging a half-moan, half-yelp from the orange-haired teen as it felt like hot wax was being dripped across his pelvis and groin area.
Zorro pulled away from his neck and they locked eyes briefly, Ichigo having that faint feeling of familiarity as he studied those abysmal, ultramarine eyes before Zorro carelessly kissed him, this time tasting of Ichigo's skin, along with the alcohol and tobacco. Their tongues didn't fight, didn't war and battle for dominance, instead, they danced, they tangoed, they merged. Even though it was sloppy and rough, it was delicious and perfect.
Ichigo sighed against Zorro's soft lips, melding to the taller teen as his blood rushed through him like a jet on an airport runway. It didn't matter that he didn't know the boy, didn't matter that he'd only just met him a few minutes ago, didn't even matter that he would probably never see him again after tonight, but what did matter, was that very moment. What was happening between them surpassed any casual encounter; it felt dangerously like fate. Ichigo cringed at how corny that sounded in his mind as he thought it, but he wouldn't deny it. He and the dark-haired boy had been drawn to one another like ants to picnic baskets. Sexual preference hadn't even come up; it was like they just KNEW. Ichigo shut down his mind as he realized he was waxing poetic and it made him cringe again.
Back to Zorro.
Zorro was running a strong hand down Ichigo's side and down the front of his pants, where he paused to boldly cup his genitals. Ichigo threw his head back and moaned loudly as Zorro's palm pressed and massaged him through the tight spandex, his tongue teasing and sharp teeth playful as they kissed urgently. Testosterone roared through the taller teen as he sucked on Ichigo's wet, pink appendage, but before they could get any further, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, revealing a slack-faced Jinta.
Jinta looked like he wanted to say something, but Zorro gripped Ichigo's arm and pulled him past the stunned youngster and towards the stairs that led to the mansion's bedrooms. They clambered up the burgundy, carpeted staircase with a thick, wooden railing and barreled into the first room they came to, Zorro shoving Ichigo inside and slamming the door shut. The taller boy didn't hesitate to push him down onto the plush, four-poster, western-styled bed, immediately going for Ichigo's boots.
Once they were yanked off and tossed to the side, Zorro climbed on top of Ichigo and smothered him with heat and sheer masculinity. Ichigo groaned at the heady scent emanating from Zorro, drawing an absent-minded grunt from him in the process. They were careening through an ocean of unbridled lust and want like a motorized speedboat, neither of them very coherent at the moment, beyond the need for release.
Zorro's hands were tugging at the waistband of Ichigo's tight, spandex, black and magenta pants, grumbling agitatedly as his efforts to remove the cumbersome leg wear went in vain. "What the fuck!" the masked teen huffed. "Are these pants or pantyhose?"
Ichigo was conscious enough to chuckle at the rhetorical question as he lifted his hips and pulled at the pants himself, the spandex rolling over his pelvis, revealing his tanned skin. Zorro's eyes went half-mast and darkened to midnight pools of desire as he scanned Ichigo's exposed flesh.
"Tha's better," he rumbled, lowering his face to capture Ichigo's lips in another heated kiss.
Ichigo agreed one hundred percent.
Grimmjow had been horny all night, but the feeling had peaked while he'd been on the edge of the dance floor, watching the other teens grind against one another in various stages of inebriation. All those displays of barely concealed sexual interaction was driving him nuts. He'd been trying to get Ilforte to tell him who Gambit was for the past couple hours, but the blond teen wasn't trying to hear it. He had even blatantly told Grimmjow that if he wanted to know so damned badly, he should just find out himself.
Which was what he'd set out to do...after consuming over eight shots of tequila and well on his way to being qualified as frat party wasted. He couldn't even feel his body anymore as he'd ambled over to the dance floor from the table he'd been sharing with Ilforte. What was that saying when someone snorted too much coke? Oh, yeah.
I can't feel my face.
Grimmjow stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, eyes hungrily searching for the teen dressed as Gambit and getting more and more irritated the longer he went without spotting him. He'd been in the middle of watching that red-haired asshole from Kurosaki's crew, molest his cousin, Nel, when the flickering party lights spotlighted the very person he'd been trying to find.
Gambit was in the middle of the packed floor, swaying and nodding his head to the pulsating music as his sensuous-looking mouth moved over the lyrics of the song. Grimmjow remembered grinning wolfishly and gliding through the writhing teenagers to come up behind his current object of desire, where he eased his hands onto the shorter male's hips and pressed himself close to him.
He figured if that didn't get his point across, then nothing would. It had been up to Gambit for them to proceed from there. The auburn-haired boy had turned and glared at first, only to have his...honey-brown eyes soften with recognition, which didn't make sense, considering Grimmjow had never seen him before. Then, Gambit had turned to face him fully and familiarity hit him like a metal shovel, making him light-headed and dizzy. The other boy had a tiny, diamond nose stud in his right nostril, the jewel twinkling under the flashing lights.
Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, sure that that piercing had some type of significance, but his alcohol-laden mind was unable to place it. It suited Gambit's straight nose and tanned skin. Grimmjow had overlooked the unsettling feeling in favor of getting into the other teen's tight, black pants. Gambit hadn't objected and they'd soon found themselves in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Grimmjow would just have to explain his actions to Ilforte after he was finished.
Gambit was firm and solid, but sleek and slender and he smelled like rum and something fruity. Maybe pineapples. When Grimmjow successfully had the other boy underneath him on the bed, his chest swelled with accomplishment. He was about to fuck the guy he'd been watching damn near all night.
Oh, happy day.
Grimmjow had a problem getting the pants started on their trek down Gambit's legs, but the shorter boy helped him out, sliding the tight spandex over his hips and pelvis, where Grimmjow tugged them the rest of the way down. He yanked them off and tossed the annoying leg wear to the side, uncaring of where they landed as he stared ravenously down at long, tanned and toned legs that looked just perfect for wrapping around his waist. Gambit had also gone commando under those irritatingly tight pants, giving Grimmjow a wonderful view of his goods and consequently making his dick rise like it was pledging allegiance.
Grimmjow bit his bottom lip before untying the sash at his waist and undoing the buttons on his pants, so far gone, he didn't even notice the way Gambit narrowed his eyes at him. Once his pants were undone, Grimmjow hurriedly shucked them and unbuttoned his shirt, but didn't bother to remove it, instead lowering himself on top of the other boy and rubbing their naked groins together.
Gambit groaned breathlessly and Grimmjow moaned, burying his face in the side of Gambit's long, corded neck. Kami, he couldn't wait. He wouldn't wait. He knew this was going way faster than he'd ever gone with any other person, but his libido was rampaging and his drunken state wouldn't support a long, drawn-out session at the moment. His dick was chanting, "hurry, hurry, hurry, now, now, now" and he really didn't want to ignore it.
Grimmjow retreated, glancing around the bedroom wildly for something he could use as lubrication, when he spotted a bottle of something unscented on the high dresser in front of the bed. He rushed over to it, grabbed it and made haste back to the bed and the waiting auburn-haired boy, who was watching him with half-lidded and amused sepia eyes. Grimmjow squatted and rummaged through the pockets of his discarded pants for the condoms he never left the house without, dropping one in his hurry.
He didn't even give it a second glance as he climbed back onto the bed. Gambit pulled him down to face-level by the lapels of his button up shirt and kissed him thoroughly, his tongue lazily exploring the inside of Grimmjow's mouth. He moaned and pressed closer, his lower half stomping with impatience as the tension mounted and threatened to bowl him over.
He pulled back and stared into those sienna eyes that seemed so familiar, clearing his throat before saying, "This'll hurt. I don' think I got the patience ta prep ya," he muttered, absently hoping Gambit wouldn't take offense to what he was telling him.
It was the truth. He really didn't think he could wait long enough to prepare the shorter teen in his state. He was too fucking drunk and too fucking horny to sit tight.
Gambit cackled and shifted his slim hips. "I don' care. Jus' fuck me, already," he murmured.
Grimmjow felt all the blood in his body pool in his already fully aroused loins at Gambit's statement. He nodded and opened the condom with his teeth before rolling it on, taking care not to tear it. Gambit wanted him to fuck him, then, that's what he would do. He popped open the bottle and poured some of the clear substance onto his fingers. "Open yer legs," he grunted.
Gambit hastily obeyed and Grimmjow spread the cool, sticky fluid between the other boy's cheeks, hoping he could hang on until the deed was done. The sight of those two, enticing globes of flesh parted for him, revealing a small, pink pucker, had his mouth watering and his length twitching anxiously. After making sure Gambit was lubricated enough, Grimmjow climbed to his knees and hovered over the other teen, their eyes locking again, sending that disconcerting feeling through him once more. Ignoring it, he positioned himself at Gambit's entrance and pressed forward without hesitation.
Gambit arched his back dramatically and clung to his shoulders like his very life depended on it, a sharp keening leaving him. Grimmjow connected their lips, swallowing the noises Gambit made as he pulled back some and pressed forward again, this time deeper. Gambit's breathing was shallow and his entire body was tense, but he never complained. In fact, he lifted his hips, making Grimmjow sink even deeper into his tight, inviting warmth.
Clenching his teeth, Grimmjow pulled back and thrust forward again, this time fully seating himself. Gambit groaned and bit his bottom lip, almost breaking the skin, but Grimmjow sucked it into his mouth and soothed it, trying to engage the auburn-haired teen in a sloppy kiss. Gambit was slow in replying, but he finally joined in the kiss, his tongue tentative and body spasming. Grimmjow really tried to wait and allow the other boy to adjust, but he was slipping out of consciousness and unsure of how long he could maintain his erection, so he braced himself up on his arms and started a steady rhythm, Gambit's insides sucking him in like a Hoover.
Kami, he was so tight.
Grimmjow felt sweat immediately springing up all over his body, but particularly his armpits and abdomen as he concentrated on making them both come. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, mouth like a desert and throat like sandpaper. "So good," he moaned softly, eyes slitting open to focus on the boy beneath him.
Gambit had his eyes squeezed shut, his hands clawing at Grimmjow's shoulders, but his slim hips lifting to meet his, thrust for thrust. "Haah, p-please. J-just go faster," he warbled and Grimmjow grunted.
He picked up the pace and their hips came together noisily, fleshy slaps tainting the air. Grimmjow could feel his orgasm hurtling towards him, so he grasped Gambit's rigid length and stroked frantically, trying to bring him to climax before he himself met his release.
"Oh, kami," Gambit moaned, then hissed, his body twitching and jerking involuntarily. "H-harder. 'M almos' there," he babbled.
Grimmjow was fading, his orgasm impending, but he was determined to make Gambit come before he did. Gambit bucked his hips in time to Grimmjow's forceful thrusts and just when Grimmjow thought he wouldn't be able to last any longer, hot semen spilled over his hand and onto Gambit's belly as the auburn-haired teen opened his mouth in a silent scream. The visual sent Grimmjow tumbling over the summit of his pleasure mountain, making him explode into a million pieces as his energy left him in the form of ejaculation, his member throbbing and spent.
That had been the epitome of drunk sex...all roughness and no foreplay to speak of. He sighed and leaned over, kissing Gambit's forehead before darkness enveloped him and sleep swept him away.
Hopefully, Gambit would still be there when he woke up.
If the smut seemed rushed, it was done purposely. The reason will reveal itself in the upcoming chapters. This is the tragedy I spoke of on deviantArt, so I hope you give it a chance and thanks for reading!