AN: This will probably be at least a few chapters long, not entirely sure yet, we'll see how it goes. And, yep, I will still be updating For the Reason of Temporary Insanity, it just might be a bit slower ^^; Just depends on which story decides it wants to be written the most while I'm working
Anyway, on to the story!
Lean, lightly tanned arms stretched above his head, the young man gave a satisfied sigh at the pops and cracks that loosened up his spine. He had been sitting in this room since he had woken up a few hours ago. The moon was already high over head, when he had climbed from beneath warm sheets and padded down the stairs and through the hall to his study. Sleep seemed to be an elusive thing, and even with all his power, he was still unable to capture it.
Fall was approaching and he would need to renew the seals around their home soon. The forest may have begun to wither and die with the cold weather, but it's larger, more dangerous creatures always came out during these harsh seasons. And he and his brother lived on the very edge of civilization, their small mansion located several miles into the forest that no other people dared enter; a very dangerous place for those not prepared.
Grabbing the list of items he would need, he shut his book, placing it back on it's shelf and turned out the lights to his study with a quick flick of his wrist. Most of the ingredients for the seal could be found in his stock room, located at the back of his study, but he was missing a few things, all of which he could collect from the forest around them. While he was out, he would stock up on whatever else he may need before the snow covered everything in a thick white crust in a few months. It never hurt to be at the ready.
The young man padded back up the stairs in the dark, approaching the bedroom door. His twin almost always came with him when he ventured into the forest, insistent on protecting him and watching out for him. The young man let a small, fond smile tilt his lips at the thought. They had always been close, ever since they were young.
He knew he was powerful enough to take care of himself, but his brother had been a little over protective ever since they had fled the village.
He and his twin had been born into a fairly wealthy, regular and happy family, growing up like normal little boys. When he and his brother were four, their mother had given birth to another set of twins, two healthy, little girls this time. Two sets of twins was strange, but the world worked in strange ways. The six of them were a very close, happy family.
As he and his brother grew older, it became apparent that he was different, something unusual, though not unheard of. After the discovery of what he was got out, the superstitious citizens had feared him, but he was just a child at the time and most uttered whispered comments under their breaths, not really doing any harm. He and his twin's parents were good people, and his brother and sisters seemed normal enough. They would raise him right and all would turn out just fine.
But after the accident had taken away his entire family; everyone he held dear...the young man had been looked at with suspicion and even hate. The villagers had barely tolerated his presence, once his pale twin had been discovered, and word had circulated about him raising his beloved brother...
His twin wasn't easy to hide. He looked different since he had been brought back and didn't pass as a normal citizen anymore.
The young man shivered at the memories of those dark times and pushed them to the far recesses of his mind. He still regretted that he only had the power to save his twin, linked as they had been by the bond created between twins, but things were better now. He lived in peace with his cherished brother and the villagers left them alone for the most part.
He pushed the bedroom door open and peered in at his sleeping twin, the smile returning to his features. He would let the man sleep, he looked to sweet and peaceful, wrapped in warm, navy blue blankets, his long, feathery locks unbound and splayed on the pillow about his snowy face. Gone from his features were his typical expressions; his customary scowl or his half crazed grin. In their place, pale lips were parted slightly, exhaling softly snoring breaths as his second half slept on.
The young man gently closed the door and made his way to the front door. Leaving a note for his twin, should the man wake up while he was gone, he grabbed his favored dagger from the counter, sheathing it in it's warded case at his hip and left.
A sleek shape lifted crystal blue eyes, dark nose twitching slightly as the creature tested the air. Large paws padded forward in swift silence, weaving between trees and thick underbrush, through the hushed night. His domain had been breached again. It was an increasing problem as of late. The leader of the Pack was unable to keep a leash on his mutts as prey became scarce in Lobos territory. The damn things, breeding like the mongrels they were, had begun out growing their food source, forcing the weaker members to enter his realm or face starvation.
Well, the beast thought to himself, one way or another, they're ganna die. A little population control is in order. And he certainly didn't mind delivering that fate.
He held no sympathy for them. He never had, and he never would. The Pack leader and he were engaged in an age old rivalry. It was just how things were, how they worked. He could hardly even remember how it had started. He didn't hate the Lobos leader, in fact, out of all the mangy breed, the leader was the only one he could stand. But he hated the rest of the Pack.
The creature, black as the night it's self, slowed from his ground devouring pace as he neared the small group of mangy wretches. Three of the hulking figures circled around a smaller, two legged creature, their snarling and snapping almost drowning out the sounds the pitiful being made.
Sounds of chanted words reached his ears and something glinted in the dark, making one of the beasties take an evasive step backward, snarling before crowding in again.
The inky creature's nostrils flared, a familiar scent carried toward him from the glinting blade. Silver. The human was out numbered and out matched, though, and the aid of a dagger, silver or not, could be no match for the wolves. These Lycanthropes, while being on the smaller side, were still formidable beasts, armed with deadly claws and teeth. Their size alone made them worthy adversaries. They out weighed even him, their bulk giving them more strength, but they could never match his speed or cunning and, like all the others that dared brake the pact and enter his domain, they would fail to harm him and pay with their lives.
Vibrant, blue, feline eyes flashed in the night as the creature shattered the air with a rumbling growl. Three sets of yellow eyes spun to pin his sleek body with wary gazes that burned with the need to kill and eat, but even in their necessity driven state, the moon high over head, they knew he was a threat.
The air seemed to crackle with energy as the creature resurrected from his four legged form into the werepanther he truly was. Standing on hind legs, a long, slim, black tail wiped at the air in agitation and furry, so unlike the happy wagging associated with his adversaries. His ears lain flat in threat, massive, white fangs gleamed in the dark as the creature bared his teeth in a mock grin toward the intruders, a deep hiss issued from his feline throat.
The werewolves scrambled into a rough, battle ready "V" shape, prey forgotten as another predator showed it's self; one that would be more than a match. They yipped and growled nervously, saliva dripping from their scarred jaws, clawed hands twitching and torn ears laying flat.
The werepanther pounced as the mutts before him crouched, readying to spring at him in return. He was the quicker, lashing out with raking, hooked claws and recurved teeth. A wolf whimpered, maw shredded by a swipe of his taloned hand. Another powerful blow jarred it's head around, the snapping of bones ringing through the clearing as it's body crashed to the ground, cutting a furrow in the dirt as it slid to a twitching halt against a tree.
The second werewolf howled in rage and launched at him, giant hand grappling and snagging the werepanther's corded forearm. The feline snarled, driving with his powerful back legs, and slammed the mutt to the ground. He landed on top of it, an angry mass of slashing claws and heavy punches. The third monster rushed him, only to be thrown by a careless kick of the panther's hind leg, hurling the mutt against a near by tree. By the time the wolf below him had gone still, the third had regained it's feet and relinquished it's resurrection. It tucked it's canine tail between it's legs, fleeing into the night, back to the Pack's territory as quickly as it's four legs could carry it's damaged body.
Standing from his kill, the werepanther let his ears slowly swivel in curiosity toward the human that huddled on the ground before him. Blood dripped from his chin and he let his tongue run over his teeth and lips to collect the slightly bitter liquid. His keen vision flicked toward the silver blade the boy was brandishing, though the knife was held in a none threatening way as the human stared up at him with wide, brown eyes, a mixture of confusion, fear and awe swirling in their depths.
"La Pantera..." the words were whispered, uttered by the human. They sent a shiver down the werecat's spine, his lips stretching into something of a grin and his blue eyes widening slightly. It had been a long time since someone had referred to him as that. A long time since a human held such knowledge. He sniffed at the human, taking a step closer in curiosity.
His felicity was shattered as a pale figure crashed through the undergrowth, pulling to a halt by the human. Two shots split the air. The first grazed the feline's shoulder, causing the cat to hiss and bare his fangs, ears flattening against his skull again. The second shell lodged into the bicep muscle of his upper arm, digging deep and biting at bone. The werepanther's head fell back and he yowled as the burn from the silver bullet spread throughout his body. Clawing at the wound, his hands trembled and he watched as the blue-black fur gave way to golden, sun tanned and smooth skin. His howling raised in pitch and became a scream as his resurrection was forcibly striped from his being, leaving him shaking and naked on the ground, the burn of silver still coursing through his veins.
"N..No!" It was the human's voice. The werepanther, forced into his human form, searched for the source, brilliant blue eyes landing on two humans where only one had huddled before. The pale one had an arm wrapped protectively around the other human's shoulders, a gun held expertly in his left hand, still trained at him.
His legs kicked and dug furrows in the loose earth as a spasm of pain ripped through his body, making his vision blur around the edges and his back arch. The human with deep, brown eyes watched him in horror, his hand pushing the muzzle of a silver plated hand gun toward the ground.
"What the hell are ya doin'?" The pale copy of the first screamed in a watery, lilting voice. He raised his gun again, aiming for the creature writhing on the ground, those piercing blue eyes following his every move. "That thing's a monster, King, he was ganna kill ya!"
Ichigo grabbed at his twin's hand again, pushing the gun to point at the ground below them and away from the creature that writhed and panted on the ground. "Don't..." He whispered, eyes still latched onto the cat turned man. "It...he saved me..."
His twin spun, golden, inverted eyes wide. "Ya must be losin yer mind." He mumbled, looking back to the monster on the ground, a slight sneer plastered on his pale features. The screaming had died down, now leaving the man's throat in a keening, whining growl as he writhed and dug at the bullet wound. The trembling hand was covered in the creature's own blood as fingers dug through the flesh, searching out the burning silver. "better kill it before he gets tha' bullet out." Shiro growled out, struggling to lift his gun out of King's hands once more.
Ichigo wouldn't relent, he pushed the gun away and yelled at his brother. "Look, Shirosaki!" A lightly tanned hand raised and pointed toward something laying a few yards away. "He killed them..."
He knew Ichi meant business, the man never used his full name like that.
Shiro followed his master's pointing finger, golden eyes landing on the limp, torn form of a werewolf. "Wha..?" Shiro looked back to his King, then let his inverted eyes slide to the man on the ground. "He killed the wolves?" He felt more than saw as Ichigo shook his head in the affirmative. He hadn't gotten a very good look at the creature before he shot, just enough to see that it had been more cat than wolf, but Ichigo was the more knowledgeable in matters such as these. To the paler man, they were all monsters.
The werecat let out a huffing, hissing breath and a mangled, silver bullet thumped to the ground beside the beast. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face a little pale. The man lay still, the only thing to show that he lived was the raise and fall of his muscled chest as he took deep breaths. After a few minutes, a low growl left the man as he slowly rolled over, opening his eyes to watch them. He carefully brought himself to a kneeling position, hands held out to his sides in a none threatening way as he warily watched the gun held between the humans. Though the creature's hands trembled slightly, an angry fire lit the cool, blue eyes, not a trace of fear shown in their swirling depths. A shiver racked Shirosaki's spine as he stared at the man, everything about him screamed killer.
The boy with shining, orange hair, slowly stood to his full height, his wide, chocolate eyes not leaving the werecat's form. His copy followed, his movement's even more fluid and predatory than the first's. The creature let out a low growl, hackles raising as he watched lean muscles twitch readily under pale skin. The panther knew another predator when he saw one. He had an odd, almost impossible grace for a human and it put the werepanther on edge and intrigued him at the same time.
"Shiro..." Ichigo whispered, still watching the way the man before them moved, keeping a wary eye on both of them, but especially his brother. "Put your gun away." The orange head watched out of the corner of his eye as the albino gave him an incredulous look, but did as he was told. When the gun was holstered, the man stood to his full height and Ichigo let his eyes finally take in his full appearance. As an animal, he had been beautiful, but as a human...
The man was tall and stood completely naked, seemingly uncaring about his state of undress as he stared back at them. His brilliant, blue eyes were matched by his wild mane of blue hair and unique, blueish teal markings under his eyes. His skin was a sun kissed bronze, even in the dark. A body that was chiseled to a lean, muscular perfection showed his wild, active life style and his heritage. Even in his human form, his fluid grace and ease of movement exuded the confidence and agility of a feline.
Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, to thank the being that stood before him, but was cut off as the man issued a low, animalistic growl. His head wiped to the side, blue eyes that almost glowed penetrating the night's darkness. His nostrils flared slightly and Ichigo tightened his grip on the hilt of his silver, ritual dagger, feeling the runes carved into it's handle against his palm.
Rustling drew Ichigo and Shiro's attention toward the bushes in the direction the naked man was staring. Before their eyes, the werecat's human like pupils began to shift into vertical slits within the blue irises. The man let out a pained grunt, almost sinking to one knee as he clutched at the wound in his arm, his pupils returning to their rounded state. Apprehension flashed through wild blue before a controlled, burning rage settled in it's place.
A lithe, dark form stepped into view, light, grey eyes flicking over to the humans before returning to the man in front of it. It's coat was a dark brown, fading to grayish tan around the forearms and lower legs, and darkening to a nearly black strip that ran down the center of it's back. This werewolf was different from the others that had cornered Ichigo. It's body size was larger, standing taller and probably weighing more, though it had a more lean muscular build, rather then the bulk the others had. The insistent, crazed need to kill was missing in it's eyes, replaced by a calm, almost lazy look.
A steady rumbling shook it's chest, but it was more of a thoughtful hum than a growl. The wolf tilted it's head slightly, regarding the straightening form of the man that stood between it and the humans.
The werecat peeled his lips back, revealing pearly white, overly sharp teeth. His pupils began to slit again before the man clenched his jaw and they returned back to the rounded, human looking shape, that burning anger still swimming in their depths.
A rumbling chuckle left the wolf's throat, startling both Ichigo and Shiro. Large head lowering slightly, it's nose twitched and the werecat turned man backed away and let out a hiss, hand smacking the top of the werewolf's snout in a quick, fluid motion.
The wolf shook it's head lightly and chuckled again. "Going to have to clean that soon, kitty." The rumbling baritone took the humans by surprise, a shocked gasp leaving Ichigo's mouth that drew the wolf's attention. He chuckled again, then turned back to the werecat. "If you want your resurrection back, anyway." The wolf mumbled, then his cloudy, grey eyes narrowed as he continued. "You killed three of my scouts."
The naked man sneered, lips curling into a cruel grin. "Two, other fled. I'm glad to hear it died." The man's deep voice was like rolling thunder, though it was slightly rough from disuse and cut off into quick, biting words.
The werewolf bared his teeth and the man took up a defensive crouch, looking formidable and capable, even in a human form. Shirosaki drew his gun and leveled it at the wolf, removing the safety. The creature glance over, taking in the shining gun, then looked back to the man's bleeding wound, nostrils flaring as he took in the distinctive smell of silver. It took a step back and opened it's jaws to speak.
The man cut him off. "broke our agreement." was all he said.
The wolf seemed to consider, then huffed out a tired yawn and nodded, turning to head into the forest. It paused, shooting the werecat a look, head cocked to the side slightly "Silver?" the word was too quiet for the humans to hear, but they made it out as they watched the wolf's lips move. The man it had addressed gave a quick nod, blue eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare. "Better hurry, then." The werewolf turned and darted away, disappearing into the night.
The alpha werewolf had no desire to tangle with the werecat, even if he couldn't resurrect at the moment. There was a good reason the cat had been able to hold onto his territory without the help of companions, he was a born killer, and a strong one at that, though most Deidades were. Grimmjow had lived a long time on his own, being one of the last of his breed. Starrk didn't plan to get on the beast's bad side, he would except his losses. The cat had been in the right after all, his scouts had entered Pantera grounds. Something that was forbidden under the penalty of a painful death, the executioner being no other than La Pantera himself.
The leader of Los Lobos loped easily through the trees, making his swift exit from feline territory, his stormy eyes scanning the forest about him. There were strays lurking about, looking for trouble, probably sensing the werepanther's current weakness. None of them would stand a chance against the veered cat, Grimmjow would kill them if they were unfortunate enough to meet the cat.
Keen nose testing the air, the werewolf lifted his muzzle and let out a long, mournful sounding cry.
The man stiffened, at the sound of drawn out, mournful howl, his blue eyes narrowing as he listened. He quickly turned and began trudging away from the two humans and into his forest.
"O..Oi!" The orange haired, young man shouted after the retreating creature. The man didn't falter or slow, his gate determined as he swiftly disappeared into the dark night, as silent as he had been while in panther form.
"Come on, King, lets get outta 'ere." Shirosaki mumbled at his side, gently tugging on his arm. He had no desire to run into any more beasties for the night. Ichigo nodded and turned to follow after his copy, scooping to pick up a rough, leather hide pouch. "Ya get wha' ya were lookin' for at least?"
Ichigo nodded. He had just finished collecting the last of the herbs and minerals he needed when the three wolves had found him. He sheathed the silver dagger at his hip, the tingling of the matching runes inked into the flesh of his wrists dying down as contact with the enchanted silver was lost. He gave a sigh and flung the bag over his shoulder. Shirosaki's pale hand slid down his forearm, black nailed fingers lacing with his own as the two made their way toward their shared abode at the very edge of the village, hand in hand.
The werecat sank to his knees on the stream's edge, dipping his hands below the cool surface. Raising his cleaned hands, he dug into the flesh of his arm again, searching for the stray traces of silver that were keeping him in this human form. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and quested out with his senses for the cursed metal, ignoring the blood that stained his hands anew and dripped into the water's edge.
His fingers closed around the last shard. Ripping it from the muscle of his arm, he dropped it into a jar contained the other pieces he had found still lodged in him. He sighed as he felt new flesh begin to knit the wound closed. New, slightly pink skin quickly grew to cover the damaged area with a fresh scar.
Grimmjow dipped his hands back into the stream, letting the cleansing waters strip his blood from his hands and arms. Straightening, he made his way back to the small clearing he had fought the wolves in and began searching.
He knew they had left, he had felt their departure as he had neared the stream. There was something odd about those two men. They were human, and yet, at the same time, not. Not the way he or the werewolves were though. One, the orange haired one, held magic close to him, while the pale one reeked of it. The flavor was one that the werecat had not encountered, but it permeated the pale human in a way Grimmjow couldn't put his finger on. He was positive the orange one was a caster, he wasn't sure what the pale man was just yet. It peaked his curiosity and he wanted to know more.
Locating what he had been looking for, the man bent and picked up the silver slug. Unlike the werewolves, the silver couldn't hurt him from a simple touch, only if it entered beneath his skin. As it was, touching the metal only gave off a slightly irritating burn. He dropped the mangled bullet into the glass jar with the other pieces and screwed the lid on.
An orange haired head dropped into lightly tanned hands as Ichigo let out a deep, tired sigh, his elbows propped on the top of an elaborately carved desk. A half dozen books lay open on the cool surface before him, another multitude of tomes piled on the floor beside him. His small, but well stocked library was a mess, and still he had found next to nothing that could help him. If his books didn't hold any answers, it was doubtful that any one had the answers he was looking for. He thought about making a trip to the local library in the village when the sun rose, but quickly dismissed it. Most of the villagers still didn't like him, unable to forgive or forget what he was and what he had done.
Ichigo sighed again, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his shoulder length, unbound hair. "La Pantera..." he murmured quietly. He had only heard stories and legends, no two alike. And the way the cat had reacted when he whispered the title...
A snort startled him just as strong, yet gentle hands rested on his shoulders. Ichigo smiled and tilted his head to look up at his brother. Shiro had just re-shaved the sides and back of his head, leaving only the top long, pulled back into a white tail that hung to the bottom of his shoulder blades. It was different, but then, what about the near-albino wasn't? Ichigo liked it, it looked good on the man.
Shiro gave a slight grin at the look in his King's brown eyes and began massaging his master's tense shoulders. He'd dropped his bag of materials on the kitchen counter and locked himself away in his study the minute they had gotten home, spending hours digging through dusty books to chase a rumor. Too Shiro, it was simple, the creature they had encountered had simply been a feline version of a werewolf, but King seemed to think it was more. And the albino knew how Ichi worked, he wouldn't stop until he found what he was looking for, or something else distracted him.
Grinning, Shirosaki let his hands slid from Ichigo's shoulders to trace down a toned chest. "Ya've been in 'ere all night, King" He said in a quiet voice, delighting in the shiver that ran down the orange head's spine as his lips grazed the shell of his King's ear. Shiro flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin, making his way slowly down Ichigo's neck with soft kisses and light nips.
"I...I'm busy, Shiro..." Ichigo said, voice a little breathy as his twin continued his ministrations. The orange haired male unconsciously tilted his head a little, giving Shirosaki better access.
"Mmm..." Shiro hummed against his neck at the invitation. "Yer never too busy fer me, King..." He whispered, voice taking on a deeper, seductive tone. His warm breath fanned over Ichigo's neck and jaw, making the orange head's breath hitch.
Grabbing the back of his master's chair, Shiro drug it a few feet back, pulling Ichigo away from the desk. Slowly, he circled around to the front of the orange haired male and lowered himself to sit across denim clad thighs, straddling Ichigo. Smirking, he pulled his shirt over his head as he felt warm fingers dance beneath the edge of the cloth.
Ichigo let his hands slide up his twin's toned, milky abdomen, his eyes drinking in the alluring sight before him. He couldn't deny his brother what he wanted, had never been able to since he had brought the albino back all those years ago. Shirosaki had been right, Ichigo would never be too busy for him, not ever again.
His fingers threaded through ashen locks, pulling the elastic from his brother's hair as pale lips covered his own in a heated, demanding kiss. A blue tongue ran across his lip, seeking entrance. The privilege was quickly granted and Ichigo's own tongue was dominated as he moaned into Shiro's mouth.
The albino shifted, grinding against his King's growing erection and pulled away from the kiss. Gripping the bottom of Ichi's shirt, he lifted it from the man's body, tossing it to the floor to be forgotten with his own. Shiro stood, grabbing Ichigo's tattooed wrists and pulling him up as well. Pale arms wrapped tightly around his trim waist, lifting Ichigo from the ground.
The orange head wrapped his legs around his twins abdomen while the man spun around and guided them to his desk. Lowered until he was sitting on the edge, he was pulled into another soul searing kiss. Ichigo heard the albino sweep is arm across his work surface, several books thumping to the ground, before his bottom lip was sucked into Shiro's hot mouth.
The albino pulled out of the kiss, releasing his King's lip and worked the button to Ichigo's tight jeans. "S..Shiro..." Ichigo panted out in front of him. The sight of Ichi leaning back on the desk, hooded eyes dark and swirling with lust, his breaths coming in soft pants, had his dick stirring and becoming painfully hard. Making quick work of the button, he stepped back, yanking the material away before dropping his own pants and releasing his straining member.
"I know 'xactly what ya need, King..." He rumbled, voice dropping to a low, throaty baritone.
Ichigo shivered at the tone, letting out a quiet moan as he was gently pushed backward. His exposed neck was ravaged by a teasing tongue and nipping teeth, causing his breath to hitch as he desperately tried to hold in the sounds that wanted to pour from his parted, swollen lips. He trailed his hands across strong shoulders, up the back of Shiro's neck and delved them into silky, white hair as his twin continued teasing him with that sinful mouth.
He didn't realize his brother had already divested him of his boxers until a long finger was circling his entrance, hinting at the pleasure Ichigo knew was to come. He gasped, letting his head drop to the desk as said finger delved into his tight heat. "O...Oh, god..." He stuttered as a second finger was quickly added.
Shiro's hand pumped back and forth, preparing Ichigo as he enjoyed the sounds King made. Tight walls teasing his fingers, he quickly yanked his own boxers off with his free hand. Finally, the sound he had been waiting for reached his ears.
"M...more..." Ichigo ground out, fingers in a white knuckled grip on the edge of the desk he was laying on. "Please... Shiro..." He gasped and whined a little when long fingers were pulled out of him.
The paler twin leaned forward, kissing and nipping at Ichigo's chest, laving his tongue over a pert nipple as he lined himself up. Biting down slightly, he pushed the head of his cock through the ring of tight muscle, pausing briefly to enjoy the tight heat before slowly driving the rest of the way in, only stopping once fully sheathed inside his master.
Ichigo threw his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut, and arched his back at the mix of pain and pleasure as Shirosaki's heavy member came to a rest inside him.
"D..damn, King..." Shiro panted above him in a watery, lilting voice. Pale hands trailed down his tanned abdomen before coming to a rest on Ichigo's hips.
After a few moments of adjusting, the orange head rocked his hips, moaning with need, unable to get past the overwhelming sensations to form full thoughts. He needed more, needed his twin to start moving.
Shiro let out an aroused groan when Ichigo began rocking his hips below him, impaling himself on Shiro's cock, face flushed and eyes dark. He tightened his grip and pulled out slowly, almost completely leaving Ichi's tight entrance, before snapping his hips forward in one, fluid motion. Ichigo cried out, his fingers finding purchase on Shirosaki's strong, upper arms.
Pale hips snapped forward again and Ichigo wrapped his long legs around his twin's middle. He began thrusting back, meeting Shiro's quickening pace. His mind a muddled mess of pleasure, he couldn't have held back the moans that escaped his throat even if he had tried.
With another thrust, everything pulsed white and the growing heat in Ichi's gut became a burning fire. "T...There, Shiro!" He cried out his twin's name, back arching and legs tightening in their hold around Shirosaki's toned abdomen.
Shiro leaned forward slightly, his grip on Ichi's slim hips surly leaving bruises as he thrust quicker and harder into the man below him. "Yer so...tight..." He panted out, flipping his head a little to toss his long hair out of his face. He wanted to see the pleasure written all over King's flushed features.
"So...Nhnn...s..so close..." Ichigo moaned out, his grip loosening on his brother's arms in favor of dragging blunt nails down the backs of those lean limbs.
Shiro growled above him. "Cum fer me, King" His voice was deep and quiet but easily heard. He wrapped long, expert fingers around Ichigo's neglected shaft, pumping in time to his brutal pace. He could feel his own impeding release and knew he wouldn't hold out for much longer, especially with the noises that exude from Ichigo's swollen, pink lips.
Ichigo gasped, the burning heat becoming an explosive pressure. "Sh...Shiro-!" He reached his peak, coating his twin's hand and their bellies in sticky fluid.
Above him, Shiro let out a long moan as tight heat constricted around his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him. He collapsed with a sigh, wrapping his arms around King's middle and trailed his hot, wet tongue up the side of Ichigo's neck as they came down from their pleasure induced high.
The forest was oddly silent. No birds sang to the approaching dawn. The small group of deer that normally fed at this hour in a glade near by had ran as the wind shifted, giving them a whiff of the predator lurking in the shadowed trees. The frogs at the edge of the stream were quiet. Not even the stray wolves dared utter a sound that might shatter the stilled predawn.
Crystalline, blue eyes trained on the swirling pieces of the mangled, silver bullet where they slid about in slow, languid circles at the bottom of the glass jar.
The werepanther's black tail flicked about lazily below the branch he was perched on, lithe, muscular body stretched out to lean back against the thick trunk of a tall tree in the middle of his territory. He continued to slowly rotate the jar, razor like claws clicking softly off the glass, as his mind wandered to the humans he had encountered.
They hadn't been the typical, run of the mill humans. Nor were they Hunters, at least he didn't think so. Sure, they had silver weapons, but then, most people from the near by villages knew of the werewolves and their weakness to the cursed metal.
Casters weren't all that rare, though they had seemed a dying breed amongst humans as of late. He hadn't run across a strong one in a while and the orange haired man had recognized him for what he was. It was slightly disconcerting. He had enjoyed his solitude and wanted to keep it that way. He didn't need a village of humans hunting after him again, destroying his forest and pissing him off.
The pale man had peaked his curiosity the most, however. There was something that he couldn't put his finger on. It was there, nagging in the back of his mind. The pale man had been predatory, tamed, yet untamed. He moved with a skilled grace, the finesse of a fellow killer. And those eyes...gold swam in a sea of black sclera, lit as if by their own light. He had seen the possessive anger swirl in their depths, even as they held a calculating gaze while regarding him.
The flavor of magic about that one had been of a kind normally off limits to the human race, nearly impossible for them to obtain and harness even harder for them to control. Forbidden and feared by those who weren't wielders, children were usually left to die once it was discovered they had such a tainted gift.
Which brought him back to the orange haired male.
Grimmjow's thoughts circled round, like the slivers of silver in the small, glass jar. He looked at it's contents, but his otherworldly, blue eyes held a far away look, the silver slug barely registering to his senses. The pieces clinked mutedly from inside the container as he continued to idly rotate it between his fingers.
Intriguing; those two men.
AN: Well? What do you guys think? Worth continuing? Please let me know!