A/N: Gawd. It took me forever to finish this story. Sorry everyone. This was originally one of the first Bleach GrimmIchi ideas I had. And then it never got written, and I decided I wanted to give Mind's Eye View a Christmas present, and she chose smut over blood and fighting, so here this is (albeit very. very. very late). Not much to say about it except that this was inspired by the awesome song I Get Off by Halestorm. I'm still new to writing yaoi smut, and this one is definitely more in depth than the others I've written. So, without further adieu, if you're game, read away. Enjoy all.

NOTICE: Yeah, so this website totally just deleted this story. I am very upset because I love this story. So, it's the same story as "I Get Off", it just has a different title and slightly different summary because they said it wasn't "G rated". Psh. Good grief. I mean, come on! Ahem. Sorry. Just slightly upset lol.

Summary: How the stupid tease could be so oblivious Grimmjow didn't know. He lived right next door for fuck's sake. It wasn't like he couldn't see straight through the window at the younger boy jerking himself off.

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, well…let's just say that I wouldn't be doing numerous things just to get by.


I Get Off

"Cause I get off on you getting off on me." -

Halestorm


Oh, God, it was too much. Too much.

In the recesses of his mind, Ichigo deduced that the ridiculous senior knew he was watching, and put on a show for him. But of course, that was impossible. True, Ichigo did live next door, but it wasn't like he ever saw the older boy peeking through his curtains.

That just didn't seem plausible. He didn't want for anything. He was practically sex personified, and it wasn't as if he didn't know it. Everyone at school seemed to be completely infatuated with the arrogant, self-centered, sailor-mouthed, and annoying-as-hell senior. Unfortunately, he couldn't claim to be an exception, either.

He was cursed. That just had to be it. He was cursed to want something he could never have.

Because it all started with that goddamn boy with blue hair.

Really, Ichigo had been normal. Well, as normal as one could be with a literally childish father and two twin sisters as different as night and day. But there had been nothing wrong with him. He would go to school, get through his classes with a scowl on his face and leave. It wasn't that he was introverted, it was just that he liked to be left alone most of the time. People bugged him.

And then he had walked into the room.

It had felt like getting punched in the gut, blown away by a tornado, and so mesmerized he couldn't think all at once. The senior had just oozed confidence, and there was no doubt that he knew he was attractive as well, if his smirk had anything to do with it. Girls giggled and blushed, guys wished they could be as cool as him, and even some blushed harder than the girls.

Then, of course, he had to realize that the blue haired boy lived right next door. Literally. Somehow their rooms had ended up facing each other, and that one night was when his sense of self (among other things) had plummeted.

It had been a normal night riddled with AP homework and extracurricular actives when he had moved to the window to close his curtains, hoping to get some sleep before his early morning began. But that never got around to happening.

His mouth had slowly dropped, eyes widening and body stiffening as he looked through the darkness between their houses at the lighted bedroom not ten feet away. The blue haired senior had his back to the window, and though the older boy was standing in the middle of the room, Ichigo could see everything.

Cheeks flushed when large hands gripped the hem of a black t-shirt. Brown eyes darkened as shoulder blades bunched and coiled as the shirt was stretched over his head. Heat trickled down his body to pool in his groin when nimble fingers quickly divested him of dark jeans.

Holy shit.

Ichigo squeaked and turned away from the window, breath coming out in ragged pants as he braced himself against the wall. He had literally just watched the older boy strip, and apparently, he didn't wear underwear, a fact that Ichigo did not need to think or even know about.

He had managed to close the blinds without looking through again, though the latter was extremely tempting.

Sleep did not come easy that night. He didn't like thinking, but once his brain got started, it sped off in many different directions, thinking up all sorts of possibilities, all of which were probably not even remotely true or plausible.

The next day at school was torture. Every time he saw the older boy in those two classes, he couldn't help the flush of embarrassment as his mind happily provided pictures of what had happened the night before. He had tried to confront him about it – really – but any time he got within eye distance (even if it was spotting him all the way down the hall), Ichigo would lose his nerve.

He hated it. Hated what he had become. There was never a time in his current teen years when he had taken shit from anybody, much less be too embarrassed to tell someone something straight to their face. And in a matter of moments, Grimmjow had ruined that.

Yes, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the illusive, blue haired senior with slightly darker eyes that seemed to hypnotize just about anyone had been his downfall.

No surprise, really, considering just who Grimmjow was, but Ichigo still despised it.

Because of that arrogant bastard he was here, reduced to a puddle of quivering anticipation, waiting, waiting for the time when his body would finally be released of its preparation just for this moment.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as the shirt started to come off. His pants were tightening relentlessly, reacting even to the slightest display of peach skin because he had been denying himself all day.

This was what he had been reduced to. Kurosaki Ichigo, a junior in high school with excellent fighting capabilities and a respect and healthy fear around campus that kept most people from commenting about his hair, was reduced to something he never thought he'd become.

And it was all Grimmjow's fault.

His fingers ached. They ached to touch that skin, to test the muscles underneath it.

For a year now, he had been pining after Grimmjow. Of course, Ichigo had gotten to know him more, too, through the calculus and biology classes they shared. Somehow both teachers had decided to pair the younger male taking the advanced courses with the new-to-the-school older male, something that Ichigo did not appreciate.

He hated watching, never being able to touch, to speak, unless they were insulting each other and throwing a few punches.

Every night it was like clockwork, and he hated it.

Every night the stupid blue haired fucker would undress in front of his window, body on display for Ichigo's hungry eyes. It only took a month before Ichigo had started to jerk himself off to the torturous display of a body that he thought was utterly and sinfully perfect.

And every night, almost as if he had trained it to do so, his libido skyrocketed, waiting, ready to ambush his weak will once that first slice of midriff was exposed.

Fuck. His. Life.

Honestly, Ichigo had never considered himself gay. He had dated a few girls, but no one had really caught his attention. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Grimmjow was something different.

They argued. They fought. But there was an understanding beneath the gruffness that seemed to transcend words. Most of their arguments and fights were harmless, meant to blow off steam before they would be grinning at each other, the air casual and comfortable as they settled down to get their work done.

Ichigo had never found anyone so interesting, and so…addicting.

It was really the only word he could come up with. Being around Grimmjow was like getting high or getting a buzz, just without the hangover.

And that was where it turned detrimental.

There would be just a little more of a clenching squeeze when he would see the older boy undress, and while Ichigo was still turned on as hell, there were those few times when his mind would turn over and over again. Grimmjow wasn't his, or anyone's for that matter. Ichigo had no right to do this.

Yet he couldn't pull away. When he thought about denying himself just those tiny glimpses (okay, so they weren't exactly tiny…), he felt itchy, uncomfortable, skittish. He didn't like it.

That was where he found himself now, standing near the window and watching as Grimmjow's back muscles flexed as he cracked his neck, then rolled his shoulders. A small whine escaped Ichigo's throat when he thought about rubbing his hands over those tense muscles, and when his own hand reached down to palm himself through his pants, he scoffed.

How pathetic he was. Whining and groaning like a wanton hussy all for something that he could only see – never taste, never touch, never hold.

Fingers opened the fly and button to his pants, slipping them down his hips so his erection was freed into the air. It felt cool against his heated flesh, and he gasped, eyes already glazed with lust glancing out the window and watching as those jeans that were in between tight and loose fell down muscular hips.

Oh, God, this was too much. Too much torture.

As his hand carefully stroked his cock faster, he felt the mind-numbing haze infiltrate his thoughts, blocking all of them until there was nothing left but pleasure zinging through his body in a series of heated bolts.

By the time his climax was close, his left hand supported him against the wall next to the window, low moans and pleasurable whispers the only sounds in his room. His head was down, chest heaving with pants as his legs spread just a bit wider. A soft, strangled cry left his lips as semen shot out in jolts, body turning to jelly after finally relieving the tension built throughout the day.

Ichigo turned his back to the window, hurriedly drawing the curtains and slumping onto his bed. He felt dirty. He always felt dirty after this, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He felt like such a whore, such a slut for doing this, but now that he was in it, he couldn't stop.

His hands curled into fists on the sheets. Was this all he could do? Masturbate to fantasies of a blue haired bastard while the object of those fantasies was performing strip teases for him every night? He was pathetic. Utterly pathetic.

But he couldn't quite bring himself to care enough.

If this was all he'd get, then he'd take it. He didn't care if he would feel like this. As ridiculously stupid as it sounded, being around Grimmjow set his world right, and he'd be damned if he denied himself the only sexual opportunity his relationship with the senior presented.

He just wished, just this once, that maybe Grimmjow would notice him, because that feeling in his chest was getting worse. It ached more and more each day. It was like he couldn't bear to be away from Grimmjow for too long – the feelings were choking him – but at the same time fear gripped him with stunning intensity at the thought of voicing those feelings to the object he desired.

That was crossing a line that Ichigo had sworn never to go down.

He had the sinking feeling that most people would call it love. He didn't want to call it that. Not yet. It petrified him.

Besides, unrequited want hurt the worst.

After all, he'd know.

00000

Really? Really. How dense could the stupid boy get?

Obviously more than that. Because not once when that tan hand was pleasuring himself did he look up, because if he had, he would have seen him, watching that slender but muscled body lost in pleasurable abandon.

As much as people teased him about it, Grimmjow was not stupid. His temper had the tendency to overtake thought from time to time, but he wasn't stupid. This…This boy just embodied stupid and made him want to strangle something or slap him upside the head with a ridiculously large schoolbook.

His eyes flicked to the large, thousand-page anatomy and physiology book resting unopened on his desk. Yeah. That would do perfectly.

But now, he was staring at closed curtains, libido heightened and dick begging for release. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kurosaki had no idea that Grimmjow watched him. It was quite ironic, really, because Grimmjow had a reason for all of this, even if it was circular.

He liked the orange haired junior more than he cared to admit, but that was after the first few weeks of meeting and getting to know him (because really, Kurosaki had pissed him off when they had met). Before, he simply undressed after school because he liked to lounge in sweatpants and nothing else; it was comfortable. But then, he had chanced a glance behind him one night, and found the kid on his bed, curtains open as blue eyes raked over the half naked body lost in self-indulgence.

So he had experimented, figuring out after two nights (the second was just to make sure he wasn't dreaming) that Kurosaki was getting off from him undressing.

Well, seemed as if there was more to the orange haired kid than met the eye.

Then, he stripped because he wanted to. He wanted to feel Kurosaki's eyes, to know that he was driving the kid insane, even if the thought was egotistical. And as the weeks went on, he noticed other things, like the fact that Kurosaki never looked back through the window when he was pleasuring himself. Of course, watching Kurosaki jerk off made him hard…

And so the cycle began.

He hadn't expected to enjoy Kurosaki's company during their school days, but he found they had a lot in common as well as nothing in common. They bickered all the time, but he liked finding someone that wasn't afraid of his glares or intimidating posture. Kurosaki challenged him right back, daring him, being as much of a prudish nerd as Grimmjow was a foul-mouthed punk.

With each day that passed, he found that lithe body much harder to resist.

After the first few months or so when he found he might like the junior more than as just a classmate and fighting companion, stripping purposefully had come with the hopes that Kurosaki would confront him about it.

But to his ever-growing confusion and frustration, the boy had stayed silent.

Kurosaki was not one to keep silent if he thought someone needed to fix something, especially when it came to Grimmjow. He nagged and teased Grimmjow all the time about his obsession for large cats, or his crass and blunt manner of speaking, or for just being his generally messy self. But he didn't say anything about the quiet nights he pleasured himself.

It confused Grimmjow. It pissed him off. It made him sexually frustrated as hell.

And tonight had been the worst. Or the best. Grimmjow couldn't decide. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

The blue haired senior's skin had been tingling, somehow sensing there was something different, something more in the hungry brown eyes watching him. It had only happened a few other times, but this one was deeper.

Grimmjow had barely managed to put on his sweats before glancing back, eyes immediately darkening and dick twitching as he looked on as if hypnotized. The junior was braced against the wall, standing, facing the window, erection stiff and throbbing as a hand squeezed and tugged on it relentlessly.

The kid had never stood before. Kurosaki had always gone to lie back onto his bed, and Grimmjow found the sight before him exceedingly erotic. Then, just as his orgasm hit, his body clenched, shuddering from the sensations as his chest rose and fell heavily. Grimmjow tried to place just what exactly that sight of Kurosaki did to him, but all that came to mind was a string of stuttered curses wrapped in lust.

If only that kid knew how sexy he looked like that…

Quickly, curtains closed, and his view was blocked. He blinked, eyes still on those navy blue curtains…which he had now been staring at for probably ten minutes. He groaned when he tried to move, erection sliding against his cotton sweatpants. He'd have to take care of that.

When the still-fresh images of Kurosaki's release flitted through his brain, he figured it wouldn't be hard at all to relieve his raging libido.

He moved to the bathroom, a sardonic chuckle slipping from his lips. Ah, the irony of it all! Circular reasoning really was a bitch. It was even a little hard to wrap his own head around the situation, but it still didn't escape him.

Kurosaki was getting off on him, and he was getting off on Kurosaki, who was getting off on him, and…?

Grimmjow sighed as his hand found purchase around his aching erection, and he let his head fall back against the wall of his bathroom. As the pleasure pushed everything else from his mind, he gave up.

Who needed to understand circular reasoning anyway?

00000

His muscles were stiff as he rolled over and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, taking a large breath as one hand rubbed his face. Last night had sucked. Against his better judgment, Ichigo had parted the curtains again – though marginally – and had caught fleeting glimpses of Grimmjow walking around his room in nothing but sweatpants.

Go figure that no matter how many times he saw that senior, he'd still get hard from seeing those muscles under pale skin writhe and shift with every move Grimmjow made. It just wasn't fair.

Ichigo had come five more times that night – each one more powerful than the last. His mind had provided so many fantasies that made his lust spike and his body ache with want, and he still wondered what it would be like to touch that body, to have it hovering over him, to be completely filled by Grimmjow's length.

Ugh, he was such a whore.

Yet at this point, he didn't even know if he cared. Perhaps whore meant more along the lines of how many people one slept with – if they had a circle of friends and fucked them all, so to speak. And he had really only slept with one person… That had been a disaster, and he tried not to think of it. Ever.

So maybe he wasn't really a whore…

"Ichi-nii!" a high voice called. "Breakfast in five minutes!"

"Ah, I'll be right down, Yuzu!"

The junior sighed again, then hurried into the shower, proceeding with his normal morning routines. He smiled slightly, knowing that Yuzu, one of his younger sisters who just happened to be a twin, would always be there with a hot meal for breakfast. It was just that most mornings – like this one – he really wasn't hungry.

Quickly, he opened his curtains, letting in the morning light and failing to resist the temptation to look in the room across from his. The curtains weren't closed, but Grimmjow wasn't in his room, and Ichigo let out a quiet sigh of relief. Well, at least his libido got a break for a while.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long. As soon as his breakfast was done and he had stepped outside, movement to his right caught his eye, and before he knew it, heat spiked painfully sharp through his groin.

Grimmjow was standing in front of his house, stretching, arms raised above his head as his spine made a few loud pops. How could one man be so sexy?

"Ah, Kurosaki-san!" someone called, and Ichigo's face burned red. He really hoped Mizuiro didn't notice.

Ichigo refused to see if Grimmjow had heard Mizuiro, too, (even though there was no doubt he had), and fought the blush on his cheeks. "Ohayo, Mizuiro," he murmured casually, hoping it did the trick. It seemed to, because if his dark haired friend noticed anything, he didn't mention it.

"Ichigo!" another voice yelled, and the orange haired junior scowled, arm shooting out to catch the perpetrator in the face. Keigo cried out in surprise and pain as he fell to the sidewalk.

Thank god for these two, even if they weren't his really good friends. At least they were good for taking his mind off of Grimmjow.

"You don't love us anymore, Ichigo…" Keigo sniffed. The junior snorted. Asano Keigo was an idiot. He really was useless and overbearing, and honestly, Ichigo wasn't sure why he was Keigo's friend. Well, Keigo did have a good heart, it was just that many times Ichigo was unsure of where exactly his friend's head was.

But a flash of blue drew his eye, and he saw a tall, lanky boy walk up to Grimmjow. His hair was long, tied back at the nape of his neck and covering the back part of a white bandana pulled over his left eye. Ichigo scowled. He remembered that guy. His name was Nnoitra, and Ichigo knew he was a good friend of Grimmjow's. Ichigo hadn't ever seen them interact much, but he felt his chest sting.

He shook head, banishing the thought from his mind, feeling pathetic. He shouldn't be feeling jealous, even if Nnoitra did have his arm around Grimmjow's shoulders, hovering over that perfectly chiseled face, hands touching that soft-looking blue hair.

Ichigo turned away, gritting his teeth. "Come on, guys," he called, thankful his voice was steady.

However, by the time the bell rang, signaling the end of school, Ichigo's day had gone from disappointing, to annoying, to downright horrifying and he-was-so-screwed. It just wasn't his day, and who to start the entire affair but one Grimmjow Jeagerjaques and his infuriatingly stupid, feigned innocence.

They were in biology, and right away, Ichigo had known something wasn't right. Their normal teacher Juushiro Ukitake was nowhere to be found, and he was never late to his own class. Instead, in sauntered a tall brunette, his grey eyes tired-looking as he rubbed a hand absentmindedly through his hair. He yawned, then moved the projector towards the white wall and turned off the lights.

"Watch the movie, fill out this questionnaire on it, and turn it in for a quiz grade at the end of class," came a tired voice before the movie started, and Ichigo swore that not five minutes later their substitute teacher was asleep.

Unfortunately, it was a little late to realize that darkness was a very, very bad idea, considering he had to sit next to Grimmjow. All the blue-haired senior did that entire class period was talk, and, considering they had to do that stupid paper for a quiz grade by the end of class, that resulted in many people talking with their partners or bumming answers off of others.

Grimmjow was no different. Almost every thirty seconds (Ichigo counted), Grimmjow would lean over, breath ghosting over Ichigo's neck and ear as the senior whispered ridiculous questions about the movie or asked why it was so boring. It didn't matter if Grimmjow was murmuring about protozoa or the life cycle of lacewing flies. Ichigo's body said that that whispering was sexy, and dammit if he wasn't completely turned on by the end of class.

Did that count as some form of foreplay? Because if not, then Ichigo was thoroughly embarrassed. He was rock hard, and the only thing Grimmjow had done was whisper in his fucking ear. If that wasn't pathetic, Ichigo didn't know what was.

Thankfully, calculus passed without a hitch, but Ichigo was fidgeting the entire time, all too aware of his erection aching against the front of his pants. He saw Grimmjow glance at him a few times – just a questionable look with an eyebrow raised – but Ichigo ignored it.

However, his mood plummeted when the final bell rang. He was already snapping at everyone due to the severity of the uncomfortable situation resting in between his thighs, and this just made everything so much worse.

He was packing up his bag, gathering his books needed for that night when he was suddenly whirled around and slammed into the lockers. He opened his mouth to tell off whoever the fuck it was, but the words died on his lips. Grimmjow Jeagerjaques was not three inches from his face, the senior's mouth spread into a wide grin. A large hand still grasped the collar of Ichigo's shirt.

"Wha… What the hell?" Ichigo finally managed, even if it was a whisper.

Those treacherous lips just made the smile bigger, and slowly, Grimmjow leaned in, Ichigo's breath catching in his throat. Shit, shit, shit

By the time Grimmjow had leaned closer, Ichigo's heart was thudding in his chest, and a shudder ripped down his spine when Grimmjow's breath fanned down his neck. Instinctively his head fell to the side, not too far, but just enough so the action was not mistaken. But of course, it wouldn't be what he had hoped for.

"Kurosaki…" Grimmjow began lowly, the sound negated as he loudly slapped a second hand on the lockers, making Ichigo jump. "I know your secret."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Ichigo panting, back against the lockers and eyes wide as those words slowly soaked into his head. No, it couldn't be. Grimmjow couldn't know what he did. The senior simply stripped, put on sweatpants, and then got to his homework. It made no sense…

Shit, this couldn't be happening.

00000

For two days, Ichigo thought he was all right. Grimmjow hadn't spoken of that since, and Ichigo was afraid to ask, worried he might spill the truth. So he kept his mouth shut, letting Grimmjow prattle on and on about how calculus sucked or the new substitute teacher for biology was a lazy ass.

The entire time, Grimmjow still stripped, most of his back facing the window. Ichigo stood in front of the window like always, and waited, but this night – the third night – was different.

It had been a normal day, despite the fact that since their little confrontation, Ichigo's body had become extremely sensitive to anything the blue haired senior did. Of course, it didn't help that Grimmjow had practically ignored him, and today his libido had decided to plague him throughout school's entirety. But as the senior stripped and Ichigo felt that familiar burn in his stomach, Grimmjow did the strangest thing.

He turned around.

Ichigo couldn't breathe. For a second, his heart stopped completely before pounding to life, crashing in his chest so violently he thought it would explode. There was no doubt his face was cherry red, and his entire body stiffened, eyes unconsciously trailing down a toned chest to the enticing "v" of Grimmjow's hips, and settling on the impressive length between tufts of blue curls.

Dear god, he was so hard.

He wanted to look away, to stop, but he couldn't. That pale body across from him was too tempting, but when he noticed Grimmjow shift, Ichigo's eyes shot up to the senior's face. Those blue eyes were calm, lips pulled down into a semi frown that made him look disinterested, but Ichigo knew better. He knew exactly what was going on.

The junior swallowed. How long? How long had Grimmjow known about this?

His breath caught when a pale finger made a circling motion, accompanied by a jerk of Grimmjow's head. Slowly, understanding yet completely unsure of himself, Ichigo lifted his trembling hands to the hem of his shirt before carefully pulling it off. His mouth was dry, skin heating when he saw the dangerous pair of eyes quickly lower and rake over his torso.

Ichigo glanced away, wanting to cover himself, to move, to do something, but his body was rooted to the spot, cheeks flushed under Grimmjow's piercing gaze. God, he was so embarrassed.

Another shift caught Ichigo's eye, and his face burned brighter when he understood Grimmjow's next motion. He stared, shaking his head in disbelief, but when Grimmjow curled his upper lip, Ichigo reluctantly obeyed.

"Fuck," he whispered as he released his belt buckle, undid his pants and let them slide off of his hips. He gulped again, and finally slipped out of his boxers.

Oh, shit.

He had chanced the smallest look at Grimmjow, and by kami if the sight wasn't arousing as hell. That blue haired bastard was staring so intently it seemed to burn Ichigo alive, but he wasn't expecting to see Grimmjow's length twitch. Ichigo was already painfully hard, but the embarrassment melted as he watched the senior's reaction.

Maybe he still had a chance…

Bracing himself against the wall, Ichigo did something he never thought he would ever do in his entire life. He stared right into Grimmjow's eyes, licked his dry lips, and let his hand wander until it touched his aching erection. He let out a shaky breath as the pleasure raced through his veins, and his eyes fluttered closed.

Quickly, he opened them again, body feverish as he stared at Grimmjow. The senior's eyes were glued to his lower half, muscles tense as he watched Ichigo pleasure himself. Really, this was quite idiotic and ridiculous if Ichigo actually thought about it – after all, he didn't even have a spec of alcohol in his system for courage (or to blame if things went wrong) – but he couldn't bring himself to care. Grimmjow's reaction to him was incentive enough to keep going, watching those blue eyes darken.

When his thumb grazed that spot just below the head and pleasure knifed through him, Ichigo gritted his teeth and let out a small moan. He was already panting, legs begging to be released from their duty of holding him up, but Grimmjow was making everything worth it.

He could see it. Ichigo could see Grimmjow fighting for control, body shaking, dick hard, lips curled and eyes screwed shut in concentration. But Ichigo didn't want that.

"Look at me," he whispered. He took a deep breath again and let it out. "Look at me…"

A moment passed before Grimmjow did open his eyes, and Ichigo needed to make sure that the senior got the message. So, he shook his head slowly, and slid his hand off the wall to lie flat on the window. His body shook as his hand still continued its torturous pace up and down his shaft, but he wanted – no needed Grimmjow to watch.

And almost instantly, Ichigo could see that last sliver of Grimmjow's control crumble. A pale hand snaked down until Grimmjow was gripping his own length, and a quiet whine slipped through Ichigo's lips. God, that was sexy as hell.

For a minute or so more, the two watched each other, until Ichigo needed more. He sped up his hand, trying to look at Grimmjow but failing completely as his orgasm hit and he threw his head back, barely keeping the desperate scream down his throat. He was still panting, and when he finally got his bearings he looked leisurely across the space in between their rooms.

Grimmjow's jaw was clenched, a hand stretched out for support as he glared lustfully at Ichigo. The junior was much too sated and still in his high to be playing games, so he let the edges of his lips quirk into a sultry smile.

That seemed to do it. With one last jerk Grimmjow came, his face twisting with pleasure. Ichigo had never seen anything better.

Suddenly, everything that had just happened flashed through his still-hazy mind, and his cheeks burned. He gasped, staring at Grimmjow wide-eyed before grappling for the curtains and jerking them until his view of the senior's room was blocked. He ran a hand nervously through his hair and paced his room (still naked), wondering what on earth he was going to say to Grimmjow tomorrow.

A knock on the front door startled him, and he froze. He could hear Yuzu saying something exuberantly, and Karin's own muttering, as well as a deep voice he would never forget in his life.

"Ichi-nii?"

Yuzu's soft voice came from just outside his door, and he scrambled to get into his jeans as he haphazardly threw on a t-shirt. "Hold on a sec, Yuzu!" he called, quickly adjusting his clothes until they fit better and praying he looked casual as he opened the door. "What's up?"

"Ah, your friend Grimmjow-san from school said that you two were supposed to study today," she said calmly, reaching forward with a small laugh and grabbing his wrist. "Come on, Ichi-nii! He's downstairs."

Fuck, this could not be happening.

But he didn't have a choice. Yuzu didn't let go of his hand until he was in their small living room, glaring at Grimmjow sitting so casually on his couch, lips spread in their signature grin. Only this time, there was something darker in Grimmjow's eyes, and it made Ichigo gulp and his body hum in anticipation.

Wait, wait. Nothing was happening. He had to know that nothing was happening, even though they had both just gotten off not five minutes ago…

His face flushed and he looked away. Dammit, he should not be thinking of that! Especially not with his sisters in the room.

Grimmjow stood, still staring at Ichigo before sauntering towards the door. Yuzu shoved his back. "Go on, Ichi-nii! Grimm-san said he had books over at his house you could use!"

"D-Demo, Yuzu, I forgot, and I'm swamped—" he tried to explain, but Yuzu got that look in her eyes again.

That slightly determined, yet adorable scolding look that made him melt as she shook a forefinger at Ichigo. "Mo, Ichigo, you promised. You shouldn't break promises like that." She shoved him again. "Now go on, Ichi-nii!" she said, pushing him out the door and closing it in his face.

He spun to face Grimmjow. "What the hell—"

Before he could continue, Grimmjow had grabbed his wrist in a bruising hold, dragging him the ten feet until they were in Grimmjow's front door and up the stairs. Not bothering to close the bedroom door, the senior threw Ichigo onto the bed, stalking after him like a predator that knew its prey was cornered.

Ichigo shifted away. "Grimm," he murmured warily. "What the fuck is going on?"

Grimmjow smiled. "You're too cute for your own good, Kurosaki."

"Don't call me cute," Ichigo growled, teeth clenched. "And that didn't answer my question."

The senior shrugged.

Ichigo hissed. "How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you known about what I was doing?"

"Hmm… probably a good eight or nine months. Give or take a few."

"… What?"

"Che, don't act so surprised, Kurosaki. It's not like you ever looked back through the window when you were pleasuring yourself."

Ichigo's face reddened. Grimmjow stepped closer until his mouth was by Ichigo's ear.

"If you'da done that then you would've seen me just as hard as you," Grimmjow whispered.

The junior shivered. "Honestly, Grimmjow. What's going on?"

For a moment, Grimmjow pursed his lips, then met Ichigo's stare head on. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Kurosaki. I wanna fuck you into this mattress."

"W-What?"

Grimmjow's face got closer until his lips were a hairsbreadth away from Ichigo's. "Why do you keep denying yourself, Kurosaki? I see the way you look at me, and I've seen what I do to you."

Ichigo gulped, but grew bold when he saw that look in Grimmjow's eyes again. He slid his hand down those taught abs until he reached the front of Grimmjow's jeans and palmed the surprisingly hard erection. His breath hitched. "I do the same to you?"

Quickly, Grimmjow slipped his tongue over Ichigo's lips. "You've got no idea, Kurosaki."

Before either could react, Ichigo jerked his head up, slamming his mouth against Grimmjow's as his other hand gripped tendrils of blue hair with bruising force. The locks weren't soft, but they weren't rough either – somewhere in between – but Ichigo liked it. He liked everything about Grimmjow, and now that he was tasting those sinful lips, he felt as if he were in heaven.

It was harsh, needy, but Ichigo didn't care. He was finally kissing Grimmjow, and that was all that mattered.

A surprised gasp left his lips when Grimmjow sucked on his bottom lip, lidded chocolate eyes opening halfway to stare into a darkened blue gaze. When he released the junior's lip, Grimmjow let out a low growl, the sound sending shivers racing in tingling jolts down Ichigo's spine. This was so much better than simply getting off.

So, so much better.

His head fell back when Grimmjow latched onto his neck, unconsciously spreading his legs wider to accommodate the older male as he pressed Ichigo further into the mattress. Small, breathy gasps echoed in the room as Grimmjow continued to suck on his neck, and when those large hands started grazing over his clothed skin, an agonized moan vibrated in his throat.

"W-Wait," Ichigo murmured, arching up with a soft cry as those sharp teeth pressured the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"Why?" Grimmjow rumbled.

"Aren't… What about…if someone walks in on us?" Oh, God, he couldn't think. Those hands were too distracting.

"Relax, Kurosaki. They won't be home for a long, long time," Grimmjow purred.

It sent a chill skittering down his spine as those words reached his ears, and Ichigo felt everything get too hot. Way too hot. "Too many clothes," he moaned, boldly moving his hands over Grimmjow's torso and tugging viciously on the black wife beater hiding that wonderfully toned chest.

Grimmjow chuckled, removing his hands from Ichigo only to let that offending piece of fabric (to Ichigo, at least) lay forgotten on the floor. The junior forced his eyes further open, hungrily taking in the smooth skin and ridges of defined muscle. He was so much better up close, and Ichigo slowly let his fingers ghost over Grimmjow's skin. The senior groaned, and Ichigo felt a thrill of satisfaction.

Besides, he didn't want to let Grimmjow do all the work. So he tilted his chin, lips drifting over Grimmjow's neck before his tongue darted out of his mouth. He almost grinned when the senior's hands tightened on his hips and his breath hitched, but the same hands shoved his shirt to his armpits and tugged.

Ichigo hollowed his back as his shirt popped over his head, chocolate eyes searching blue ones that had darkened considerably. In a second their mouths were connected again, Grimmjow swallowing a groan when Ichigo felt hot skin touch his own.

Oh god, more. His body wanted so much more.

He was far too gone to listen to anything his head was saying (if it could even form a coherent thought), and his fingers moved to Grimmjow's pants, fumbling with the belt buckle.

A growl reached his ears when Ichigo's fingers brushed over the clothed erection, and when large hands gripped his wrists harshly, Ichigo looked up.

If anyone had a right to be uncertain, it was Ichigo, but he saw Grimmjow shake his head. The blue eyes were dark, wild and swirling with lust, but there was something on the surface, even if Ichigo didn't know why. "Slow," he murmured, and Ichigo just groaned.

He put his free hand on Grimmjow's, looking straight into those blue eyes, hoping he got the message across. "Take your pants off," he whispered. When Grimmjow's grip loosened just a bit, Ichigo continued. "Why are you denying yourself?"

Those words seemed to alight fire in Grimmjow's eyes, and while Ichigo should have been afraid of the pure lust, it sent heat pooling in his gut and made his erection strain against the front of his pants instead. His back arched, pressing their groins together, and Ichigo uttered a sharp gasp.

Before he knew it, Ichigo realized that his pants were gone, and Grimmjow's mouth was setting fire to his skin, a thick pink tongue darting out and circling his navel. Grimmjow crawled back up Ichigo's body, eyes burning and voice hoarse as he murmured, "I'm not denying myself, Kurosaki. I'm savoring this." His breath whispered down the junior's neck, and he shivered.

Suddenly, his mouth flew open with a strangled cry as white-hot pleasure knifed through his body, heat heat heat engulfing his dick. His hips jerked, body writhing in an attempt to get away but at the same time trying to get closer to that skilled tongue swirling around his heated flesh.

His hands viciously gripped the sheets, eyes staring at the ceiling but unseeing. Sure Ichigo had jerked himself off (plenty of times), but never had someone given him a blowjob, and the way Grimmjow's mouth engulfed him, tongue laving and swirling had his mind past the brink of any and all rational thought.

And it was so good.

Grimmjow's hands were running over his sides, over his hips and down his legs as the senior sucked, and Ichigo writhed slowly. One hand came to pin his hips down, and that just made it all so much more potent.

"G-Grimm," Ichigo moaned.

The junior whimpered when the heat disappeared, eyes opening and searching, almost begging for more. Grimmjow's eyes were dark, muscles tense. He looked as if he were going as slowly as possible, which was irritating in Ichigo's book. He wanted this now.

He reached up, gripping the senior's neck and jerking him back down, mouths meeting in a needy kiss. Grimmjow groaned when Ichigo lifted his hips, twirling them carefully and rubbing his erection on Grimmjow's. The blue haired senior tensed, like he was holding himself back, and Ichigo wanted to steal that control.

So he bit Grimmjow's lip, nails on one hand raking down his back as he hooked a leg over Grimmjow's thigh. "Please," Ichigo whispered, and that seemed to be Grimmjow's undoing.

It was like releasing a hurricane and a tornado all at once. Grimmjow's grip was hard, bruising, and his hands were simply everywhere as he attacked Ichigo's mouth like he would never get to again. Ichigo could barely keep up, but his nails dug into pale skin as the heat seemed to spike through the air.

Quickly, Ichigo fumbled with the waistband of Grimmjow's sweats, but eventually, they slipped off, nothing underneath. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to look. He knew Grimmjow was larger, but his nerves were getting worse, and even though he wanted to do this, Ichigo was nervous. So Ichigo let his hand wander down, running hesitantly over the hard flesh and feeling the soft, quick moan Grimmjow made go straight to his groin.

Screw nerves.

Ichigo wanted Grimmjow now.

He let out a loud moan when Grimmjow's hips shifted down and his erection pressed against Ichigo's. The junior moved, gasping as he tried to get closer to the senior hovering over him. This was quickly turning into much more than Ichigo had anticipated, but the feelings were taking over all rational thought in his brain.

Grimmjow's hand slid down his waist, over his hip and down his thigh before wrapping around the top of his calf and hitching his leg up so it curled over the senior's ass. Ichigo shuddered, a quick spike of uncertainty surging in his chest. The position left him feeling vulnerable, extremely open to whatever Grimmjow wanted to do to him.

But dear God did he like it.

His nails dug into Grimmjow's back as rational thoughts suddenly raced unguarded into his mind. He had never done this before. He didn't know what to do. Had Grimmjow done this before? Would he be disappointed?

They weakened his resolve, pressed doubt into the back of his skull. He didn't like that. He needed his brain to be mush – not to think or suddenly take such a strong hold of the hesitation constricting around his chest. It spiked even further when he barely registered the sound of a drawer opening and closing.

"G-Grimmjow…"

Well, dammit, his voice shook. He swallowed, opened his eyes, and looked at Grimmjow. A miniscule shiver rippled down his spine. The senior's eyes were brighter and somehow darker at the same time.

Oh, boy.

"You scared, Kurosaki?" His voice was rough, scratchy, but the challenge was there all the same.

Ichigo felt his eyes narrow. He was not afraid. And while he knew Grimmjow was just baiting him, he took it anyway. He reached up and grasped a lock of blue hair and tugged – hard.

"No," he growled, lifting his head and slanting his lips over Grimmjow's.

Without warning, a hot, slick tongue swept into his mouth. It was a strange sensation, one Ichigo hadn't really felt before, and he wasn't necessarily sure if he liked it. His mouth felt full, and he wondered if Grimmjow's tongue could even move before Ichigo did something he had never thought (or even considered) he would do in his entire life.

His own appendage moved slightly as he closed his lips, sucking on Grimmjow's tongue, tasting, testing the feel as he concentrated on what he was doing. He was completely and utterly shocked at himself, but decided he liked it – especially when the action made Grimmjow murmur a surprised groan.

And it seemed to light him on fire.

Grimmjow's hands were suddenly somewhere else, though Ichigo didn't have a clue where until he heard the slight pop of a bottle cap. Oh. Right. He'd forgotten about that. There was a small quirt, like released air bubbles, and the frantic, almost near-panic sensation came back in full force. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready to do this, but then Grimmjow's mouth was back on his, one hand tracing small circles everywhere on his body.

And then…

"What the—! Unn…" Ichigo practically yelped, because there was suddenly something up his ass. Oh sure, he had read plenty of stories and he knew how the entire act of sex went between two males. But those books were wrong. Having something shoved up your ass was not comfortable.

His entire body tensed, the "fight or flight" pointer on his radar definitely leaning towards flight, and he wanted to bolt. But there was the problem of a) Grimmjow's arm was holding his hips down and b) that goddamn deceptive mouth was breathing in his ear.

"Just relax, Kurosaki."

If he'd had the strength, Ichigo would have laughed. Instead, all he did was manage to sound angry and whiny. "Relax? Why don't you try relaxing with something shoved up your ass!"

"Never gonna happen," Grimmjow murmured conversationally.

"Che, and why not?"

Grimmjow's face turned serious. "Because I am never gonna to have some guy's cock stuck in my ass."

And still that finger moved – ever so slightly – and Ichigo was starting to get used to it, despite the fact that ever move it made sent shivers of uncertainty jolting through his body. He wasn't sure if the shivers were more pleasurable or more towards the side of fear, but he wasn't necessarily sure he wanted to find out.

"Why not?"

The senior leaned down, breath fanning over Ichigo's ear as ridiculously sinful words slipped off of his tongue like warm honey. "Because I'm always in charge."

His entire body quivered, and though he hated to admit it, that statement had been the hottest thing Ichigo had ever heard. He pressed his lips together, slowly working to send a message to each of his muscles to relax. It wasn't easy, especially when Grimmjow decided to add a second finger and he had almost yelped at the unexpected and slight burn.

At least his fingers weren't demanding anything, because Ichigo had never been a very good multi-tasker, and this was taking all of his brain power, and he wasn't even sure how this was supposed to feel good.

Because it didn't. Not really.

Then, Grimmjow crooked a finger, tapping lightly and Ichigo could have sworn a bolt of pleasure spread through his body like lightning. He gasped and cried out, body arching up and hands finding anything to grab so he could dig his fingers into it. He hadn't ever felt anything like that – like something was so deep inside of him that the pleasure was everywhere. And even if he didn't know where it came from, he just knew that it was inside.

Okay, he lied. If felt good.

And it didn't just feel good. It felt amazing.

There was a long, drawn out moan when Grimmjow's fingers tapped again, and Ichigo was almost embarrassed that such a sound had come from his mouth. But it seemed to be the second half to Grimmjow's undoing and loss of complete control.

The fingers pulled out, and another squirt reached Ichigo's ears. Slowly, he opened his eyes, gaze flicking down to where Grimmjow was slathering his straining length with lube.

Honestly, Ichigo had always thought things would go smoothly. There would be no awkwardness and he certainly wouldn't be watching another guy coat his own length.

Grimmjow looked up, tension suddenly filling the air as Ichigo made a point to look down. He felt as though Grimmjow…wasn't quite embarrassed, but was still unsure, perhaps hesitant, even, but Ichigo just kept staring. It was oddly mesmerizing, and it made his stomach clench.

This time, it wasn't with fear. He was past the point of that. He wanted more, more of that inside feeling, and the sight of Grimmjow's hand on his own cock was extremely arousing, especially since the window moment when they had practically jacked off to each other. He almost couldn't believe that had been merely an hour or two ago.

Or more. Ichigo didn't know. He wasn't exactly keeping track of time.

Grimmjow's large, pale body moved, weight resting on muscled arms placed on either side of Ichigo's head. His breath hitched slightly when he felt Grimmjow's cock poke his entrance, but the uncertainty was gone, and he was glad for it. All he wanted was more, and he nodded slowly, letting his knees fall out in silent acquiescence for Grimmjow to go ahead.

Hips pushed, and once again Ichigo was shoved back. His body was tense, he wanted to run, and this was not pleasurable in any way, shape, or form. He knew that the fingers had felt bad at first before it felt better, and it was probably the same with this.

The only problem was that this hurt.

Ichigo was no stranger to pain, but this was a different pain than anything he had ever experienced. He panted, trying to keep the pain at bay as Grimmjow kissed and sucked on his neck, murmuring a quiet "Sorry" before trying to keep him distracted.

"Dammit," Ichigo whispered lowly, teeth and fists clenched tightly as Grimmjow continued pushing his cock deeper.

"Relax, Kurosaki," Grimmjow muttered, like he was having trouble controlling himself. And when Ichigo used a small part of his brain to concentrate on that theory, he realized that the senior was nearly shaking trying to keep himself still.

"But Grimm…" The pain was back as it went further and further… Ichigo's body jerked. "God, Grimm, I can't… It's too big…"

Grimmjow grunted, but his voice was barely above a whisper. "No, it's not. I said to relax, Kurosaki; you've got it all in."

In all the times that Ichigo had managed to catch glimpses of Grimmjow's penis, he had never considered the senior to be average. One got to know such things when they had to change for PE class or other things. No, Grimmjow had always been above average, and to hear that all of Grimmjow's length was seated inside of him… Well, it did things to him, and amidst the pain was a small thread of pleasure.

Then, Grimmjow moved. At first, it didn't feel good at all, but then the burn started to disappear, and something else was placed in its wake. One of Ichigo's hands was scratching lines in Grimmjow's back while the other was tangled in unruly blue hair. Ichigo moaned quietly, letting Grimmjow hike up one of his legs until it wrapped around the senior's waist.

"Oh… Harder, Grimm. More…"

And yet there was another change in Grimmjow. He pulled out, snapping his hips up and it sent a startled gasp from Ichigo's lungs as his body arched up, pleasure lancing through him in a rhythmic series of bolts that matched Grimmjow's thrusts.

Soon, almost every move was dragging some form of noise from Ichigo's lips, even if the noises weren't very loud. Most were simple gasps followed by the occasional moan, but Ichigo didn't care if he sounded like a whore. This felt damn good and he wasn't about to let it stop.

When Grimmjow gave a particularly hard thrust, Ichigo pushed his hips up as well, and was rewarded with a moan-like grunt. From there, things escalated beyond anything Ichigo could even comprehend.

The pleasure was the only thing that mattered, and he met Grimmjow, thrust for thrust until the climax that had been building was so so close. This time, his noises were louder.

"Grimm…so close…"

The only response was a grunt, and Grimmjow's thrusts became even more erratica until he suddenly stopped, pulled back, and plunged into Ichigo again. That was his undoing. The force of it and feeling of Grimmjow's entire length seated inside of him again was enough to push him over the edge, and he came hard.

Ropes of semen spurted from his cock to land on his chest as well as Grimmjow's, and the effect had all the surrounding muscle clenching sporadically. It milked Grimmjow's cock, and with a loud moan he followed.

It was the strangest sensation Ichigo had ever felt in his entire life, but he liked it. It sent new shudders wracking down his spine, especially when he thought about the fact that Grimmjow had cummed inside of him. Arousing as hell.

But he was panting, spent, even though he wished they could do it again. He smiled slightly, looking up at Grimmjow as the senior carefully pulled out before letting himself fall to the bed with a thud. Ichigo turned his head, still panting, but managed a small smirk.

"We're gonna have to do that again sometime," he said breathlessly.

A wide grin spread over Grimmjow's face. "Che, you figure? What, did you think we'd only talk next time?"

00000

"Ichi-nii! You're back! Dinner's ready. Why don't you invite Grimmjow to stay, too?" Yuzu asked as she finished up any last minute additions to the dinner currently staying warm on the kitchen stove.

"Uh…sure, Yuzu." Ichigo quickly looked at Grimmjow, who smiled wickedly. That was definitely a yes.

It was eight-thirty at night and Ichigo had just managed to get home. He remembered the whole getting off situation had been roughly around three or four in the afternoon, and now he was tired as hell. Who wouldn't be if they had to spend four more hours with a guy that had an insatiable sex drive?

He was sore, and he and Grimmjow had had sex three more times after that first initial coupling. And that was currently why it was eight-thirty. At seven-thirty, when Ichigo had first wanted to head home, Grimmjow had turned him on so thoroughly that Ichigo had no one to blame but himself for wanting that last round.

Oh, well. At least it was fun.

Quietly, everyone sat at the table and began to eat, Grimmjow continuously eyeing him from across the table.

"Did you have fun studying, Ichi-nii?" Yuzu asked innocently, but it sent a very different image whizzing through Ichigo's mind.

He choked on his food. "What?"

"Studying," Yuzu reiterated.

"Mmm, we had fun studying," Grimmjow murmured.

Ichigo grit his teeth. "Shut it."

"But I like studying."

"She's not talking about that studying, Grimmjow!"

"Che, you're weird, Kurosaki."

"And you're a psychopath."

"But you liked studying, Kurosaki. I know you did. Neighbors probably know, too."

Ichigo was promptly horrified. His face was beat red as he hurriedly went back to his food, trying to keep his mouth shut and his libido down as it, too, seemed to remember the day's previous events.

Suddenly, Yuzu paused and said, "Mo, Ichigo… What other kind of studying is there?"

00000

A/N: The end. I hate the ending, but I wanted to put Yuzu's last line in there cause I thought it was funny. I am strangely pleased with my sex scene, and I hope you guys like it, too. I apologize for the crappy ending. I know Karin isn't there and Yuzu is really flat but I've just been wanting to get this thing done for ages and finally, here it is – all 25 pages of it. This is edited by me, but I tend to miss words sometimes, so if some words are missing, please forgive me =).

- wolf's paradise