Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor any of it's fine - damn fine - characters. Only the rights to my own perilous (in)sanity.

Warning!: This story contains Yaoi; male on male sexual interaction (as if y'all didn't already know), serious potty-mouth syndrome, and mild violence. If any is not to yer personal preference, then by all means, feel free to disengage now.

Note: This is a re-upload. Again, it was intended as a present to Hollow Ichigo-Ichigo for her birthday, because she damn well deserved it! ^^ But please, any and all'a yah, do enjoy if yah feel so inclined~ I was rather fond of this li'l OneShot - and hence, I dragged her back kickin' and screamin' from the limbo from whence she was cast. She has been dusted off and re-vamped a tad, but remains essentially the same.

Ahaah~ Get it? Re-vamped?


Hn. Well, yah'll laugh later.

And here... we...


.:Intel With Benefits:.

A guttural scream of a pain so indescribable, and a shower of crimson red. That was it, all it took to signify the final demise of a creature of the night. Heh, and the damnable souls liked to boast that they were "immortal".

Yeah. Right.

A fine mist of blood, the very life force of the creature, issued forth from the fatal wound and coated peachy features in a fine film. Normally warm ochre eyes, now darkened to a cold, earthy brown, remained unblinking as the rancid liquid splattered across high cheekbones and a few drops landed dangerously close to lips bearing the hue of pink carnations, both supple and petal soft to match the description.

Raising his right hand, the youth in question stoically thumbed away the offending spatter. The young male was roughly 5'10" in height, his body boasting long limbs and an athletic build, miles of corded muscle and wiry sinew all neatly wrapped up in taut, healthy mortal flesh. He wore a long duster coat that had seen better days over a grey thermal, and a baggy black beanie on his head to covertly disguise gawk-worthy hair. Dark denim jeans slung low on narrow hips and heavy, steel-toed combat boots completed the look.

Retracting the deadly serrated weapon – slathered in a lethal dose of dead man's blood and speared straight through the centre of a heart that had felt its last pulse of life many a decade ago – the young human curled his top lip as the hellspawn collapsed against him, gripping his shirt with spidery fingers and unnaturally pointed fingernails more suited for beast than man. Glassy eyes stared up into his own, wide with panic and fear, the supernatural creature coughing and choking on his own blood, his chest heaving with laborious breaths as his lungs tried so desperately to keep functioning even a minute or two longer.

Unashamedly disgusted, the young man seized a fragile wrist, twisting until the supernatural being gave a trill of pain and was forced to submit, falling to their knees on the cold, concrete floor. The irony of such a feat was not lost on the younger soul; such a strong and powerful creature stripped of everything, including their very life, and by a human man no less. Then again, this particular man was very good at what he did, had been slaying creatures of this scum's sickening calibre since he was thirteen years old. He had long since lost count of the number he'd eradicated from the face of the planet in his quest for personal vendetta, but, at twenty-two years of age today, it was needless to say that it had hit triple digits quite some years ago.

"Th-This is imposs…impossible!"

An orange tinted brow cocked up at the shaky, garbled statement, the words echoing eerily through the once buzzing hive, now just an old, abandoned warehouse full of charred remains and bloody corpses.

"'Impossible', you say?" the youth stated, incredulity evident in his tone as his gaze swept over the expanse of the room, taking in the general carnage he'd wrought. His lips tilted upward in one corner, though the action was completely devoid of any humour. "Funny. It doesn't look like that from where I'm standing…"

The pale pink lips of the alleged 'immortal' pulled back in abhorrence, the early morning rays pouring in through a window to their left catching on pearly white teeth, giving them a sinister gleam and highlighting two abnormally long canines. A long, furious hiss escaped from between those teeth, giving rise to goose-flesh on the back of the young man's neck.

"You bastard," the creature declared, hacking up yet more fluid onto the dusty grey floor. An unshakable, icy chill was penetrating his system, causing his limbs to quiver. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he ever felt so…cold. Raising a trembling hand, the creature swiped the back of his palm across his mouth, narrowing his eyes on the trigger-happy slayer. "We've li-lived here for…nearly sixty years. N-No slayer's even gotten close before. We were hap…happy. We were safe…"

Inhuman eyes surveyed the chaos, bile rising in his throat as his gaze flickered over the broken and fallen bodies of his comrades, his friends… His mate… Curling his left hand into a weak fist, he used the other to bunch in the fabric at the hem of the mortal's shirt, hoping that the impalpable fury burning behind his eyes was enough to convey his heavy anguish and searing hatred now that his diminishing strength could not.

"You…" he snarled, his voice pure venom in spite of the waning intensity. "You did this! You condemned us all to the pits of Hades, and for what? Because we're different. Why can't you and your kind just let us exist in peace?"

The young mortal scoffed, forcibly batting the creature's hand from his person. "Leave you in peace? You've got'a be kidding me. You vampires make me fucking sick, y'know that?" Fisting a handful of raven locks, the human snapped the being's head back, forcing him to look out over the mass of mutilated bodies he'd not long ago mercilessly slaughtered. "You see that? Take a good, hard look, leech, because here's a little home truth ya might find hard to swallow… You did that, not me. The very second you sank your fangs into their necks and turned them you damned them to their fate. Their lives were over the minute you stopped their hearts."

The vampire hissed when he was released, the mortal youth shoving him back like the very notion of touching him in any way was just downright repulsive. And he wouldn't be far wrong in such an assumption.

Another coughing fit, much worse than any before, rendered the vampire momentarily speechless. He could feel the dead man's blood leisurely spreading to each of his limbs, the poison filtering into his organs and dramatically choking back his senses. The cold was unbearable now, causing his whole frame to shiver and his teeth to chatter. Such a sobering feeling to one who has long since forgotten what it was like to feel…well, much of anything really.

"They were my friends, my family," he stated in a voice so small he barely recognised it as his own. Oh how the mighty have fallen so low. "She was my eternal bride, and they my children… What gives you the right to take their life? Who deemed it your place to hand out God's judgement?"

The human sighed heavily, averting his gaze off to the right. "You're wrong. They were friends and family, brides and children…but they stopped being anything the night they crossed over." Steeling himself, the mortal set eyes as cold as stone one the broken figure hunched over so pathetically by his feet. "Now they're nothing but monsters. Monsters that you created. You take human lives to sate your own selfish needs, so that you can live throughout the ages and repeat the vile process all over again. And that…is unforgivable."

A dry, humourless chuckle rushed past the vampires lips, putting undue strain on rapidly deteriorating lungs. "What is your name, slayer?"

The human baulked at the words, having never been asked such a question before. Usually all he heard was a colourful range of expletives and animalistic growls until he finally ganked the ungodly hellspawn, sending it straight back to the depths of Hell where it rightfully belonged.

Unnerved, to say the very least, the mortal scowled before giving a mental shrug. The vampire would be dead within a matter of minutes, so why not indulge a man – using the term very loosely, of course – in his dying wish.

"My name is Ichigo," he stated brusquely, folding his arms across his chest to let his discomfort known. "Ichigo Kurosaki."

A small glimmer of life shone behind the vampire's eyes at that, making Ichigo's frown etch deeper into his brow. Before he could so much as blink, the creature was on his feet, literally using his last reservoir of rapidly depleting life force to snatch the black beanie from atop the mortal's head. Bright, sunshiny tangerine tresses sitting in a mess of untameable spikes were revealed from under the dark confines, the unruly strands practically glowing in the sunlight streaming over both of their forms.

"I thought you looked familiar," the creature stated, a distinctive hint of triumph lacing his tone. "It was those eyes that first caught my attention…so full of life and determination…but the hair clinches it."

Ichigo growled, snatching his hat back and forcing the vampire back to the ground with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Dying or no, the young mortal had no delusions as to just how lethal the creature before him could be, and he really didn't need to be caught off guard like that again. Not if he wanted to get out of there alive, at any rate.

"What are you talking about, leech?" Ichigo demanded of the chuckling being. At least he figured he was laughing – it was kind of hard to tell when every other sound the creature made was a watery hack.

There was a long, pregnant pause, wherein the vampire tried to steady his breathing enough to form articulate words, and Ichigo waited rather impatiently with a bated breath. Dull, listless eyes gazed up at him, a wicked sneer painted across quivering lips.

And then he spoke.

"You're Masaki's boy…"

It was delivered as a statement, not a question, and Ichigo felt the air held previously in his lungs whooshing out all in one fell slam. Scowl wiped clean off and eyes widening in clear distress, he grasped the vampire by the front of his blood soaked shirt. Perhaps if he wasn't quite so acutely desperate right now, he may have noticed how his fingers trembled and his heart palpitated.

"How do you know that name?" he beseeched, shaking the being for good measure. "Was she here? Will she be back? Talk, parasite! How do you know my mother?"

Figuring he'd better speak up before his head was jolted clean from his shoulders, the vampire smirked. "She was here. About a month ago…said she was looking for something." Pausing to take in a shaky breath, he continued, his voice a lot weaker than it had been even a few moments ago. His time was drawing near, the poison steadily consuming his entire being. "She never did mention what it was she sought…but when she couldn't find it, she simply moved on."

Ichigo swallowed thickly, his knuckles turning white from the ironclad grip in which he held the other. "Is she alright? Did she tell you anything? Where she was going? How long she was going to keep looking? Anything about…me?"

A million and one questions were bombarding their way through Ichigo's head with the speed and destructive turmoil of a fucking tornado. Finally, after so many years of searching, the gap was closing inch by agonising inch. A month apart, that's the closest he'd ever come to finding her. He was getting so close he could almost hear the pleasant peal of her laughter; feel the silky soft texture of her radiant skin; smell that beautiful floral perfume she always loved to wear…

Unfortunately for the highly distress mortal, however, the dark veil of death was finally embracing her icy appendages around the vampire, beckoning him towards his unavoidable fate with the melodious call of a mythical siren. With nothing left to live for, not now that his family and beloved had already succumbed to the call, the vampire found himself welcoming the embrace with open arms.

"You know, Ichigo…" he started, his eyes already drooping and his lungs letting loose their very last supply of oxygen. "…you humans are the true monsters of the world…not us. You will never find peace upon this road you have taken, and for that…I truly pity you."

As the vampire's eyes slid shut for the last time, Ichigo could feel an uncontrollable fury building up in his chest, the inferno infiltrating his very veins and spreading like wildfire.

"No! Don't you dare die yet, you soul-sucking scum!" Ichigo snarled, a hot sensation pricking in the corners of his eyes as the body remained unresponsive to his borderline violent efforts. "Tell me where she is, dammit! Open your eyes and tell me where my mother went!"

As expected, his answer was nothing more than deafening silence. His breath leaving in short, harsh bursts through his nose, Ichigo slowly unfurled his clenched fingers, allowing the now deceased being fall backwards lifelessly to the floor. Rising steadily to his feet, he roughly carded his fingers through his hair, his eyes clenching shut as he pulled on the unkempt strands.

"God fucking dammit!" he cursed to no one but himself, his eyes snapping open into a harsh glare. He was so tantalisingly close! Masaki, his mother, she'd been here, had inhabited this very nest and little more than a month ago. Fuck, if only he'd gotten here sooner, had thought to hit this vampire hive before the previous one, then he might have actually caught up with her – or at least been close enough to her trail to find her with relative ease. But, as per fucking usual, he was too late. Her trail would be stone cold by now.

So near, and yet still so fucking far away it may as well have been measured in light-years.

Making the adequate preparations, it wasn't ten minutes later that Ichigo was making his way out of the derelict warehouse, the building nothing but a scorching yellowy-orange haze in the background as it burnt down to its foundations. Not even sparing a backward glance as the second floor began collapsing down onto the first, pieces of burning rubble and debris scattering out in all directions, Ichigo merely fit his beanie back into place atop his head and sauntered onwards, writing off the past hour of his life as yet another epic fucking failure.

Trudging into the dingy motel room he'd had the foresight to book himself into earlier that day – seriously, there was nothing worse than trying to book a room for the night when covered in gory blood spatters and questionable combat wounds – Ichigo closed and locked his door, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he scrubbed his hands down over his face.

The room was simple enough; two beds with unsightly floral pattern sheets the likes of which he'd only ever encountered in such places as this, a dinky bathroom with a small cubicle shower and vastly limited First Aid kit under the sink, an old – and more than likely broken – television set sitting on top of a wooden dresser that he wouldn't be staying long enough to even think about using, and, of course, a telephone taking up residence on the bedside table.

Pushing himself away from the door before he got comfortable enough to simply sink to the floor and promptly pass out from shattering fatigue, Ichigo trudged his way toward the bathroom, shrugging out of his long overcoat and peeling off his grey thermal shirt along the way. Kicking off his heavy combat boots at the door, he was already working on his belt and zipper by the time he reached into the shower to fiddle with the controls in order to bring it to life. Once the water started up, giving a few false bursts before finally roaring into action, Ichigo kicked the door closed and divested himself of his cumbersome jeans, white cotton socks and, lastly, his olive green boxer briefs.

Adjusting the scalding temperature before stepping in, Ichigo hummed his contentment as the heated water made short work of slicking up his body, the torrents cascading down in broad rivers over a lean expanse of taut muscles, sloping curves and hard-cut dips. Placing his palms flat against the wall on either side of the showerhead, Ichigo let his eyelids flutter closed and his head hang low.

He couldn't believe he'd missed his chance today. When his – for lack of a better word – 'partner', told him of the nest's location, he'd immediately scoped the place out, taking note of how many suck-heads currently infested the hive, gauging who the head Sire was, figuring out the layout of the building and how they rotated their patrols. Of course, there was only ever one main objective – the exact same one he had anytime he went anywhere near a Nest – and that was to find her.

Needless to say, after a week of surveillance with absolutely no sign of the one woman he sought, he quickly deemed it another dud and made plans to go in and exterminate the pests before moving onto the next location. Just like he always did.

But that Nest's Sire had thrown him for an absolute loop. Ichigo didn't really make it a policy to interact with the hellspawns, in any way, shape or form, partly because a) they would much rather gut his mortal hide like a supermarket fishmonger does their 'catch of the day', and the most part being that b) he just plain did not want to associate with their kind. There was obviously one exception to the rule, that being his nefarious collaborator. But then Ichigo didn't count him. Not really.

Languidly peeling his eyes open, the young human grimaced at the sight of the crystal clear shower water turning an unpleasant ruddy brown before swirling around the plug and being chased down the drain. Grabbing the shower gel provided – one that made him smell entirely too feminine for his liking – he quickly scrubbed himself down, wincing every now and then as the soapy suds seeped into the several open wounds decorating the planes of his lithe figure. What? You can't honestly expect to put your head in the lion's jaw and not come out with at least a nick on the ear, right?

Making quick work of washing the blood and grime from his hair, Ichigo reached up to turn the shower off. Steeping out of the small cubicle and into a heavy fog of steam, he reached for the towel provided on the rack over the radiator, securing it tightly around his waist before reaching for a smaller one to ruffle through his sodden hair. Draping the second towel around his shoulders, he made his way out into the main room.

It was around six in the evening by now, the temperature having noticeably dropped a few degrees from what it had been that afternoon when the sun was out in her full glory. As such, a small shiver worked its way up the mortal's spine and he made a beeline for his bag of clean clothes lying open on top of the dresser.

Routing through the army style duffle bag, Ichigo barely gave any notice to the small television set when it suddenly crackled to life, merely rolling his eyes as he pulled out some fresh underwear and a black thermal tee. A disgruntled huff came from the vicinity behind him, but he ignored that too.

"Yah know, I liked it much better when yah used ta shriek like a prepubescent schoolgirl when I popped in unannounced," a hauntingly beautiful, eerily echoic voice informed him. "It was much more…entertainin'."

Ichigo gave a derisive eye roll. "Yeah, well, one time too many and a guy kind'a gets used to it. Sorry."

Slipping a black pair of boxer briefs up over his athletic legs, working them on under the privacy of the towel still hugging around his waist, Ichigo quickly threw on the black thermal, pushing the long sleeves up to his elbows before finally turning around to greet his uninvited 'guest'. Remember the one exception to the rule? Well, said being was currently sprawled out, and looking mighty comfortable at that, on one of the cheap beds, the one that just so happened to be closest to the bathroom.

Known simply as Shirosaki, or Cero to those less fortunate souls who dealt with him in most unfavourable circumstances, the new arrival positively exuded a dark, feral aura, one that had the fine hairs on the back of the young mortal's neck standing on end no matter how many times he encountered the man. Covered from brow to toe in flawless alabaster flesh, which always seemed to secrete hints of an enslaving citrusy musk and was smooth to the touch as varnished marble, and with a crown of snowy white locks that sat in a disarray of wayward spikes just an inch or two longer than Ichigo's own, there was no denying that the immortal being carved from sin and debauchery was something of an Adonis walking on mortal ground.

A purely sinister grin snaked its way across pale lips, showcasing without a sliver of care Hollywood white teeth and preternaturally elongated canines. Trailing his eyes further north, shining ochre suddenly found themselves ensnared by glittering, molten gold irises engulfed in a sea of toxic obsidian. Ichigo would never in his life get used to the violent, magnetic pull those exotic eyes seemed to lord over him, not even if his lifespan was as undetermined as the one who bore them. Unconsciously licking his lips, he eventually managed to tear his gaze away, only to find himself inwardly shaking his head at his partner's attire; a hot pink shirt under a black pinstripe waistcoat with matching pinstripe dress pants. Jesus. Only Shirosaki could wear something so out of place and outlandish, and yet still look so drop dead sexy.

Shirosaki, lounging quite contently with his fingers laced behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles, couldn't help but smirk as he noticed the youthful mortal oh so discreetly checking him out. Honestly, Ichigo was too damn cute for his own good sometimes.

"See somethin' yah like there, aibou?" he inquired with a salacious wink.

Ichigo quickly about-faced, concealing as best he could the light dusting of pink that flared across the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, you wish," he stated, hastily throwing on a pair of ratty old grey sweats. Tossing the towels in through the open door of the bathroom, he then made his way over to the opposite bed and sat down. Facing his companion, he rested his elbows on his knees, interlocking his fingers to rest his chin upon as he gave a tired sigh.

Sensing the mortal's distress, Shirosaki sat upright, swinging long legs over the edge of the bed so that he sat in a similar position to the other. A small smile tilted his lips, but it was one of mediocre comfort and forged understanding.

"I take it from tha rather glum expression tha' she wasn't there, ey?"

Ichigo took a deep, cleansing breath in, releasing it slowly through his nose as he gave a curt shake of the head. "No. But we were so fucking close this time, Shi."

This perked the alabaster vampire's interest. "Oh?"

"She was there. And I don't just mean in passing, she was actually living with them for a while."

Shirosaki watched as those syrupy ochre eyes suddenly teemed with life at the prospect of finally reaching their goal, the one they had fought tooth and nail to obtain these past lot of years. Their journey together had been a long and, admittedly, quite disappointing one thus far; but it was far from over yet, and they were determined to see their venture through to the bitter end.

The immortal being could still remember the day he first met the vibrant haired youth – though honestly, who could ever forget the night some teen hell-bent on revenge tried to stake you through the heart? The brat was barely fifteen years of age, and obviously had little to no clue whatsoever on how to harm, let alone kill, a creature of his frightening calibre. Shirosaki had seriously contemplated stubbing out the boy's existence that night, but one single glimpse at the raw and passionate killer instinct in those beautiful fucking eyes and the ageless vampire was hooked. He saw the kind of strength and will-power that would put even the most fearsome of supernatural beings to shame reflected back at him that day; he saw life and determination and opportunity…

…and he took it.

And thus, a strenuous allegiance forged on shaky trust and mutual gain was established, wherein Shirosaki – having grown despondent of the pond dwelling lowlifes that infested the vampire gene pool these days – agreed to help the boy out on his quest to find his missing mother, one they highly suspected had been turned on the night his family was slaughtered. The only reason the orange haired mortal had been spared, was because he had fortunately been absent that very same night. Ichigo had vowed to find the monster that tore apart his family, the one that wrenched his baby sisters and goofball father from him before stealing away the only lifeline he had left.

In an ironic twist of fate, it was his mother's disappearance that kept the human going, kept his spirit and indeed his very soul alive. Each and every day he woke with a resolute and unshakable resolve to get her back. It was his fuel, the life-force thrumming through his veins, the one and only power source that kept him forever moving onward.

Shirosaki had never voiced such a concern out loud, but he often wondered what the fiery mortal would do when he eventually caught up with his beloved mother. There was no real way of knowing for certain, but they had it on pretty good authority that the woman was a vampire now, a 'hellspawn' as Ichigo would put it. So, when the day finally came that they were reunited – whenever that turned out to be – what would Ichigo do? Shirosaki knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell that he even entertain the idea of ganking his own mother, the last remaining soul in the whole fucking universe he actually gave a damn about… But then, how does one live with a creature they have sworn to slay to the pits of Hades? A supernatural entity they have come to detest with a passion so pure that they don't even flinch when executing them?

When they finally caught up with this elusive Masaki woman, the kid would have his mother back, sure – but only in theory. For Shirosaki knew, from firsthand experience no less, that once turned…everything changes. Regardless of whether you want it to or not. After all, it is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent; it is the one who is most adaptable to change. And adapt a vampire must.

Shaking himself out of his rather morbid musing, Shirosaki gazed up into sullen ochre. "So, yah got some leads on her whereabouts then? At least tha's a step in tha right direction fer once."

"Uh, yeah. About that…" Ichigo stammered, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. Shirosaki arched a brow in question. "Well, I'd kind'a already killed the Sire before I could find out any information…"

"Ehh?" Shirosaki deadpanned, a look of vexation marring his features into a frown. "Well tha' ain't too smart, aibou. How many times have I got'a tell yah before yah'll listen, huh? It's; torture, question, extinguish. It really ain't tha' hard."

"It wasn't my fault!" Ichigo was quick to defend, his hands balling into fists. "If the guy hadn't recognised me like he did, I wouldn't even know what I do now. I mean, come on! When do any of the fucking parasites we grill ever give over any useful information?"

"Oi," Shirosaki growled, taking obvious offence to the words so callously muttered by the other. "Watch tha' pretty lil' mouth a'yers, King. Am one'a them 'fuckin' parasites' too, yah know."

Ichigo glanced up at the riled vampire, noting pale lips curled back to reveal deadly sharp teeth in a clear show of animalistic admonishment. He would never admit as much out loud, but such carnal displays never failed to send a shiver of excitement down the length of his spine.

Palming tiredly at his eyes, the young mortal snorted. "Yeah, don't remind me."

Using the human's temporary blindness to his advantage, Shirosaki literally jumped at the chance to pop up behind the younger male, slender alabaster finger coming up to rest on hunched shoulders. This time Ichigo did give a startled yelp, his eyes flying open to find molten gold alight with teasing merriment.

"Maa, maa…so jumpy, Ichigo," Shirosaki hummed, his fingers kneading into knotted muscle. "Yah should learn ta relax more, otherwise yer gonna risk all tha' beautiful youth evaporatin' before its time."

Trying his damnedest to ignore the sinful touch, but finding himself leaning into it regardless, Ichigo blew out an exasperated breath. "That's a fucking laugh. Relax? When we suddenly find ourselves back at square one? Right, 'cause that's gonna happen."

"Yah worry way too much, aibou," the vampire purred, pressing his chest tight against the younger's back. "I've other Nests lined up tha' aren't too far from here. We'll find her yet."

"…You make it sound so easy."

Shirosaki grinned, curling his arms in a gentle embrace around the mortal's neck as he took a greedy inhale of the other's simply delicious scent. Even masked behind a healthy layer of scented shower gel, Shirosaki could easy decipher and pick out the aroma he sought underneath. Christ, there wasn't a sinner in the whole cosmos that smelt as divine as the tempting little morsel sat in front of him – and, having inhabited the earth as long as he had, you'd better believe that he'd checked.

"Tha's because it is tha' easy. Jus' trust in me Ichigo, I wouldn't ever lead yah astray."

Ichigo chuckled at that, letting his head loll back onto the vampire's shoulder to flash him an impish smile. "Me? Trust you? That's rich."

A rumbling growl and sharp nip to the side of his throat came as reprimand for such words, Ichigo biting back an appreciative groan as the nip turned into a languorous, open mouthed kiss, the vampire stirring in an all too familiar pattern behind him.

In spite of efforts to keep his intentions (somewhat) innocent, Shirosaki could feel his pupils dilating. Along with a familiar ache in his gums and the parched feeling now sitting heavily in the back of his throat, it didn't take a genius to scrape together the evidence and draw up a concise conclusion; bloodlust. Finely sensitive hearing picked up the sound of his mortal's heartbeat escalating wildly within it's ribcage as he tightened his hold, his heightened sense of smell assaulted with the sweet fragrance of pulsating blood and growing arousal. A very potent and dangerous combination if ever there was one.

Nosing at the human's throat, he let black varnished fingernails sink into silky orange tresses, tugging insistently so that the other was forced to bear more of that peachy column to his disposal. Smirking at the sight of the mortal's pulse point rapidly throbbing, Shirosaki dipped his head to lap his tongue over the delectable flesh, his skin tingling pleasantly at the breathy gasp that spilled past Ichigo's lips.

"Mmm, y'know aibou," he purred sensually, his words vibrating over the young male's skin. "I haven't fed yet taday, an' am suddenly feelin' rather…ravenous…"

Ichigo's eyelids fluttered closed at the low, husky tone of the other, his breath catching in his throat when razor sharp teeth scraped in a teasing, yet thoroughly threatening manner over his jaw. He always had a very love/hate reaction to this particular aspect of his allegiance to the other. There was absolutely no two ways about it; the amount of pleasure Shirosaki could provide for him was so beyond the levels of mind-blowing he was certain it had to border on illegal. Unsurprisingly, that was the portion their little trysts he found himself loving, and to such an extent he actually craved them. The hate aspect was obviously derived from the simple fact that in normal, everyday circumstances he annihilated creatures like Shirosaki, and all without a single speck of remorse. Chances are, had he not been so young and naïve when he first encountered the alabaster demon, he may not even be here today.

And, in spite of himself, Ichigo couldn't help but think what a truly horrid notion that was…

Feeling rather playful, Ichigo shoved his palm in the vampire's face, catching him off guard enough to push him away from his neck. "So you're hungry; big deal. It's not like it's my problem."

"Not yer problem, my ass," Shirosaki rumbled, slapping the young male's hand away from abusing his face. "It's all in our lil' contract, aibou. I give yah tha goods pertainin' tha whereabouts of our nocturnal friends, an' you provide me with sustenance so tha' I don't have ta go around slayin' tha lives of innocent humans. Hence, now tha' am hungry, yer gonna be tha good lil' blood-bitch I trained yah ta be an' remedy my eternal ailment."

Ghosting his fingertips teasingly over Ichigo's throat, Shirosaki gave a lopsided grin when his mortal's Adam's apple bobbed reflexively. Curling his fingers tighter, he settled his lips tauntingly close to Ichigo's ear, his tenor deliberately seductive. "Heh, fine print's a bitch, ey King? Always remember, human – the devil is in the details…"

Ready and oh so willing to dive back in for yet another savoury taste, Shirosaki had to stop himself short when the unmistakable, coppery tang of life's precious fuel permeated through his senses. Brows furrowing in speculation, the vampire glanced down, only to notice a darkened stain on the left lapel of his shirt signifying that the mortal was not only concealing the palatable liquid under the confines of miles and miles of peachy flesh, but that it was openly seeping from him as well.

Quickly locating the right place – sitting smack-dab in the centre of his left shoulder blade – the impatient albino seized the youth's t-shirt by the hem of the neck and ripped the material clean down to the bottom of his ribcage. Ichigo clenched his jaw, fully prepared to let loose a torrid rebuke for the unnecessary destruction of yet more of his clothing, but when a hot, wet tongue pressed flat against the tight skin on his back, he found all vocabulary promptly flying out the window.

Shirosaki on the other hand, was in sweet, sweet rapture. With the heady taste of his mortal's blood caressing his taste buds in the most delirious kind of way, he almost neglected the beautiful sound of the young male humming out in obvious approval. Giving the haemorrhaging wound – a shallow, three-nailed gash – a dutiful suck, the vampire could feel his own polished nails elongating into deadly talons and his fangs sitting heavily in his mouth.

Knowing that his human was too far gone to care much, both by the wonderful little mewls and the escalating scent of arousal filtering through the haze of his bloodlust, Shirosaki tore the younger male's shirt off completely, Ichigo dazedly facilitating by yanking the sleeves off of his long arms.

"Turn around, Ichigo," Shirosaki ordered, his echoic voice dropping an octave in both authority and budding desire.

Ichigo shuddered pleasurably at the gravely tone of the other, complying to the command instantaneously. Such submissive behaviour would normally be void in any other aspect of his life, but the orange haired male knew better than to disobey a creature as dominant and feral as the one in front of him. A fact only ever accentuated when the vampire was in the process of feeding. If he didn't want another broken bone or brutally torn flesh to tend to in the morning, then he was best off just doing as he was told.

For now, at least.

A low, animalistic growl sounded in the back of Shirosaki's throat when limber, athletic legs straddled across his equally muscular thighs, the mortal's lithe body moulding close to his own as toned arms wrapped around his neck and slender fingers delved into his hair. Raking his fingertips up over quivering abdominals and firm pectorals, but mindful not to pierce the human's flesh, Shirosaki let his instincts take over, guiding him to lave his tongue over a protruding clavicle before starting a torturously slow ascent up to the mortal's throat.

Ichigo shivered and ground his pelvis down against the much older man, his chest already heaving and his blood singing in his veins at the mere prospect of what was to come. It would be his rotten luck that the one vampire he found himself saddled with was a sadistic fucking asshole.

Groaning rather wantonly when a soft nip was administered to the hollow of his throat, Ichigo fisted his hands in the purposefully stalling vampire's silvery-white tresses and tugged, clearly conveying his rapidly waning patience with his habitual little game of 'torment-Ichigo-until-he-begs'. Shit was getting old, and fast.

A truly carnal snarl ripped itself the depths of Shirosaki's lungs at his submissive's display of command, causing him to retaliate by grasping the mortal's neck in a brutal choke hold, his sharp fingernails biting harshly against delicate skin and his fangs lightly puncturing the skin of his shoulder. Every action was carefully calculated in order to ensure minimal physical harm, and yet possessed enough vigour to be considered a threatening action.

Swallowing thickly, Ichigo forced himself to relax, his body automatically curling in toward the distinctly provoked vampire asserting his dominance in what he hoped was a meek and placating gesture. A soft, purr-like hum and a tender lick to his abused shoulder assured the orange haired mortal that his docile act had pleased the other adequately enough to be released, allowing his stuttering heart to regain its natural rhythm once more.

"Such a good pet," Shirosaki cooed, laying sweeping kisses along the length of his mortal's neck. "An', ta show my appreciation, am'a let yah go ahead an' strip fer me."

Ichigo blinked, a furious blush rising to pool in his cheeks. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Yah heard me," Shirosaki smirked, guiding Ichigo back until he took the initiative and stood at the side of the bed.

Ichigo could only stare, dumbfounded, as the vampire shuffled back on the mattress, a feral grin worthy of a Great White ripping across his lips as he rested his back up against the headboard. A white brow cocked skyward when Ichigo made no attempt to move, the look in those fathomless golden orbs one of evident keen enthusiasm to get started already. Clearing his throat in the suddenly awkward – not to mention embarrassing as all holy Hell – situation in which he found himself, Ichigo subconsciously attempted to cover his torso with his arms. He was used to the primitive vampire getting a little…frisky during their more intimate times together, but never once, in all the seven years he'd known the hellspawn, had he ever asked – nay, demanded, that he strip.

Blushing a brilliant shade of scarlet, Ichigo endeavoured to mask his humiliation with a dark scowl. "I thought you were hungry?" he tried, his eyes glued firmly to his feet just so he didn't have to look upon that lecherous grin. "C'mon Shi, if you need it that badly we shouldn't be messing around with stupid games like this…"

Shirosaki felt like cackling with mirth. Fuck him sideways, his little human looked so damn edible when he got all flustered.

"Ne, don't be such a prude, King," he purred, moving to sit up on his knees. "Am jus' tryin' ta keep tha relationship fresh an' spunky. If yah like, I'll do it with yah…" Fingering the buttons on his waistcoat suggestively, he gave the hemming mortal a saucy wink. "Whaddyah say, aibou?"

Realising he wasn't getting himself out of this one, Ichigo settled for rolling his eyes. "I'd say you'd better hurry up and get started, because I'm already well in the lead."

Shirosaki gave a winning smile, hastily popping the buttons on his waistcoat and discarding it to the floor before starting on the smaller discs of his shirt. These buttons he tackled with more finesse, slowly sliding each one free and happily drinking in the sight of ochre eyes darkening with lust as each one revealed a new glimpse of smooth, alabaster skin.

"Careful Ichigo, yer startin' ta drool," the vampire commented with a sly grin. Upon reaching the final button, he casually slipped the starched material off of each shoulder before shrugging it off completely and tossing it to the side to be immediately forgotten. Giving a pointed nod toward the awestruck human practically devouring his body with famished eyes, Shirosaki smirked. "Better get a move on, aibou, 'cause I jus' took over yer lead."

Snapping out of his trance at the husky purr, Ichigo frowned. "How d'ya figure? We're both the same now."

"Nuh-uh~" the vampire sang, waggling his finger back and forth. "Yah see, am goin' commando taday, whereas I know fer a fact tha' yer wearin' underwear. Hence, am currently winnin'."

"Well, if you really wanna get technical, you've still got your socks and…" Ichigo could only sigh as the vampire, anticipating his words, hurriedly rid himself of his leather loafers and fuchsia socks, before lounging back with a smug smile gracing his lips.

"Yah were sayin'?"

"…Never mind."

"Good. Now it's yer turn…"

Swallowing down his pride, Ichigo hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and, after much verbal insistence from the highly perverse vampire, gradually inched them down to his knees where he then let gravity take the reins. Kicking them off to the side, he pinned glittering gold with a steadfast glower.

"There. Now we're even."

Shirosaki chuckled good naturedly at his mortal's obvious discomfiture, beckoning the fiery soul to him with a crook of his finger. "Yah did good, aibou. We'll have ta work on yer seductive skills somewhat, but am more than happy ta unwrap tha rest'a yah."

Needing no further invitation, Ichigo crawled between the other's legs, his palms caressing over a gloriously sculpted torso on their way to tangle in snowy tresses, both men groaning in bliss when Ichigo's bare skin glided along the length of Shirosaki's naked torso.

When pale lips fused with carnation pink, mouths parting on contact to allow the mutual greeting of tongue, it didn't take long from there for things to quickly turn heated. Frantic. Aggressive.

Black tipped fingers raked down a peachy back, leaving ragged track marks that would surely take days to heal, before dipping beneath the elasticated band of the mortal's boxer briefs to give both pert globes a hearty squeeze. Ichigo moaned into the kiss, his own hand snaking down between their bodies to return the gesture in the form of a crude palm to the other's evident arousal. Shirosaki hissed at the unexpected ministrations, his head snapping back in pleasure as Ichigo teased him through his dress pants.

"Shit, Ichi," he ground out, his hips bucking up in search of substantially more gratifying friction. "Yah'd better stop if yah want any kind'a foreplay, 'cause I don't know how much longer I can hold mahself back… I gotta feel yah…taste yah…"

"Then don't," Ichigo breathed hotly into his ear as his hands made short work of the alabaster man's button and zipper. "Don't hold yourself back from me." With gentle and careful movements, he slid the loosened pants down over sharp cut hipbones and down powerful legs, before bunching them up and discarding them over his shoulder. Moulding the curvatures of his body to the vampire's, he took the weighty erection into the palm of his hand and gave a playful stroke. "Take whatever you need from me, Shiro. You know that my body is always willing and able to please you, whatever the requirements may be."

Like opening the lid to Pandora's Box, those few simple words – spoken with a warming delicacy he hadn't been expecting – were the key to Shirosaki's undoing.

With a ferocious growl the likes of which was more suited to the nature channel than real life, Shirosaki effortlessly reversed their positions, giving Ichigo little to no time to recover his lost breath before his lips were busy sucking it straight back out of him. Having neither the restraint nor the willpower to show the same tender consideration his young mortal had previously, Shirosaki tore the boxer briefs from his lover's body in a fit of unbridled desire. The desire to feel every goddamn inch of peach hued skin, to hear the downright sinful sounds of blinding rapture he knew his little human was capable of producing in the throes of passion, to have that saccharine flavour that was uniquely Ichigo flooding his mouth and bringing a whole new sense of life to his veins.

It was the simple desire to become one with his mortal. His lover.

His Ichigo.

When mile-long legs curled around his thighs, and slender fingers scratched at his scalp in the most pleasurable of ways, Shirosaki was quick to coat his fingers in his own saliva, and even quicker to sink the first two digits into the beckoning heat of his human's puckered entrance. Patience was all good and well, but, in the immortal's humble opinion, impatience was always much more preferable. Not to mention much faster.

Sensing Ichigo's discomfort at the admittedly rushed action, Shirosaki broke the sensual dance between their tongues, grazing his lips instead down a sinewy neck, nipping gently along the length of the panting male's collarbone, before finally tracing down the right pectoral. Smirking quietly to himself, he used the deadly point of one fang to barely nick the skin above a pebbled nipple, watching as a small pool of crimson gathered above the sensitive tissue. When the drop began to slither down heated skin in a narrow rivulet, Shirosaki granted himself permission to catch the wayward bead of scarlet, following its haphazard route back up with his tongue until he found himself adhering his lips over the small well it originated from.

Having successfully distracted the orange haired youth, Shirosaki was now free not only to continue stretching him out for the more ambrosial delights to come, but was also permitted an appetizing taster of the rich, sugary flavour that had the ability to drive his senses wild.

Ichigo was so far above cloud nine, he'd lost count. With criminally skilled digits probing inside him, stroking dangerously close to his prostate, and a hot, goddamn sinful mouth sucking with just the right amount of pressure around his nipple, it was really no wonder that his toes were curling and his vocal cords producing some of the most wanton sounds he'd ever heard.

"Ahh, Shiro…mmmhn! Please, hu-hurry it–nnghn…hurry it up already…fuck…I need you…"

Grinning at the beautiful words moaned so deliciously from kiss-plump lips, Shirosaki laved his tongue over the petite incision he'd created, carefully swiping the excess from his lips before reclaiming his pretty mortal's in a dizzying clinch. Drawing back to gaze into hooded chocolate as he positioned himself, he couldn't help but smile.

"Now, how could I refuse such a wonderful request from such a tasty pet?"

With that, the vampire snapped his hips forward, successfully sheathing his entire, dripping length in one go. Ichigo cried out as pain temporarily overruled his pleasure, his lips pulling back into a grimace and his blunt nails gripping alabaster shoulders with enough intensity to leave minor crescent shaped welts.

Shirosaki tried to be considerate and accommodating – he really, truly did – but from the very second that familiar, tight wet heat hugged so snugly around him, he quickly found himself losing control. A dark, feral beast was clawing at him from the inside out, commanding that he ravish the pliant body raw and then bleed it dry. It was roaring of assertion and dominance, demanding that he strike fear into the boy's heart in order to establish subservience…but how could he possibly stomach to do such a detestable thing to someone he'd come to care so much about?

Heh. An immortal, bloodthirsty vampire developing something as abject as human emotions? Who'd have ever thought it…

Starting up a fairly rough pace, pistoning his hips in hard, deep strokes that had his mortal releasing breathy gasps whilst halfway sating his inner demons, the milky skinned vampire fought back his more insistent instincts. After all, Ichigo was only human, composed of bone with the fragility of china and supple flesh prone to bruising and trauma. Unleashing his most carnal desires on such a delicate body would undoubtedly result in nothing short of catastrophe for his little mortal, and that simply would not do, not when Ichigo was literally the only being in existence he didn't want to break. Maybe someday, should the circumstances surrounding the orange haired youth's mortality suddenly find themselves 'altered', then – and only then – will he ever truly let loose the bloodthirsty hellcat caged up inside.

It didn't take long for the demands of "oh god, harder!" and "shit yes, faster!" to fall from petal soft lips, and Shirosaki complied to his human's every wish without delay. A fine sheen of sweat was working up over both milky and peach hued flesh as the lovers indulged in a heated kiss that was more teeth than tongue, the two men struggling against the searing heat coiling ever tighter in the pits of their stomachs as the cheap motel bed whined under the strain of their zealous coupling. Ichigo's prostate was being abused with a deadly pinpoint accuracy, and like there was never going to be another tomorrow, whereas Shirosaki was dealing with the immensely fantastic feeling of velvety heat gripping him tight and spasming around his engorged length.

"Oh ngh, yes!" Ichigo keened, a distinct whiteness dancing behind his eyelids as he hurtled ever closer to his completion. "M'so cl-close, Shiro… Do it now…"

"…Not yet, pet. Patience."

Shirosaki knew all too well what his mortal desired – shit knows that he was craving it, too. He could hear the young male's blood singing throughout his veins, feel the excited thrum of his pulse point as he pressed his lips hungrily against the skin of his throat. He just had to wait a little longer, until his beautiful lover was riding the very pinnacle of his release; only then would he strike. Only then would Ichigo's essence taste its most divine…

"Hah, fuck! Yes! Shi-Shiro…! I'm…I-I…"


Releasing just enough restraint on his baying inner Alpha, Shirosaki followed the unrelenting pull on his instincts and sank his fangs deep into the junction of Ichigo's neck, growling lowly in his chest as the razor sharp canines penetrated layer through layer of epidermis easier than a hot knife through butter. A coppery tang with heavy undercurrents of his mortal's brilliantly saccharine flavour flowed in a steady stream into his waiting mouth, the vampire adhering his lips down hard and sucking greedily, ensuring that not a single drop of the precious fluid went to waste.

If Ichigo felt like he was on cloud nine before, then he wasn't at all sure what word could accurately describe the euphoria he was currently experiencing. His every nerve end was buzzing with vivacious electricity and flourishing with life, which in itself was quite ironic given that it was his very life-force that was currently being ravished from his body. He could feel the vibrations from Shirosaki's feral snarls vibrating against his neck, the larger body covering and pinning him in an overly possessive manner as the highly volatile dominant got his fill.

Having already been teetering on the very precipice of his climax, and indeed his sanity, it took a scant thrust or two more to finally push Ichigo into absolute delirium. Teeth baring in overwhelming pleasure, his orgasm ripped from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes in an almost violent manner, the vampire's name tearing itself from his lungs in a hoarse cry as he came between their sweat slicked bodies.

Assaulted with the criminally beautiful sounds and sensations of his lover achieving rapture, Shirosaki growled his approval, arching the thoroughly sated body close as he dug his fangs in deeper and rocked himself to his own completion. When wet heat clamped down viciously around his throbbing cock, the blisteringly tense coil in his abdomen finally ruptured. His own orgasm hit him harder than he'd ever expected, causing him to accidentally tear at his mortal's neck when his gut impulse coerced him into biting down hard as his hot seed filled the human's twitching canal.

Tiredly riding out his release, Shirosaki lapped dotingly at the tattered skin in apology before withdrawing from the younger's warmth to stretch out lazily beside him. Chuckling quietly to himself when he realised that his human was already down and out for the count – bless his everlasting soul – the vampire nestled in close, placing an affectionate kiss upon pink lips before allowing the steady beat of Ichigo's heart and the rhythmic sound of his soft breaths lull him into his own satisfied slumber.

When Ichigo next awoke, it was in the small hours of the morning. A sharp sting in his neck and a dull pain in his lower back was enough to make him scowl, but a warm smile still managed to grace his lips when he felt strong arms enveloped around his torso and a broad chest pressed up tight against his back as he lay entwined with his lover under the light duvet.

"You should let me turn yah…"

Ichigo's smile faltered at the echoic words hummed gently into the nape of his neck. "We've been through this before, Shi. I can't."

Pale arms held him tighter. "D'yah really hate us that much?"

Letting out a deep breath through his nose, Ichigo rotated in the vampire's embrace, shifting until they were lying face-to-face. Golden irises, glowing iridescently in the dusky light due to a gratifying feed, gazed down upon him behind thick black lashes, pale lips twisted into a wry smile that held no true emotion.

"You know it's got nothing to do with that," he started, his own ochre orbs silently pleading with the other to understand. "When I finally find my mom, I want to be…well, me. I want to be reunited as the son she's always known and loved."

"But aibou," Shirosaki protested, his left hand tangling fondly in tangerine tresses. "It's taken yah damn near ten years ta get this far… What if it takes yah another decade ta get within a week of her, an' then another ta finally catch up? If not fer my sake, then yah should do it fer yer own. Yer only human, Ichigo; time will never be on yer side. Yer body will deteriorate an' eventually slow yah down. It's only natural."

Ichigo shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to sound out the words forming on the tip of his tongue, and yet not possessing the strength not to. "You'll always be here, though…right?"

Golden pools flashed with an emotion so intense Ichigo couldn't ever hope to place it, his heart giving a spastic flutter when an endearing, yet no less feral, smirk snaked across the vampire's mouth, those lethal, pearly teeth out on full display. Yelping when black varnished nails fisted in his hair and pulled him in for a searing kiss, Ichigo could do nothing but melt against the welcomed gesture of assurance, purring pleasantly when the vampire's skilful muscle slipped in through parted lips for a languid taste.

Ichigo would never in all his days admit to the pathetic whimper he let loose when Shirosaki finally released him, and Shirosaki would gladly forever remind him that he had most definitely heard it.

"Aye, a'course I'll always be here fer yah, King," Shirosaki responded, kissing the tip of his mortal's nose and delighting in the faint dusting of pink that spread across sparsely freckled cheeks. "Jus' don't go takin' forever in decidin' ta become my eternal bride, ne? I mean, it hardly seems fair, after all the trouble I've put mahself through fer yah, tha' I should be saddled with some wrinkly old geezer. Especially not when I could have a body as sexy an' taut as this one…"

To further accentuate his point, he snaked his hand down to squeeze at the firm globe of Ichigo's backside, earning him a simultaneous shudder and fierce glower.

"You're such an asshole."

Shirosaki cackled heartily at that. "Guilty as charged." Nuzzling his nose into vibrantly orange and silky soft spikes, the vampire sighed contentedly. "You will be mine one day, Ichigo. Tha' much I can promise yah."

Only just resisting the persistent urge to roll his eyes, Ichigo settled himself close to his immortal lover, winding his arms tight around the hard planes of an alabaster back. "Yeah, I know."

Settling comfortably into each other's arms, legs tangling and body heat mingling, the two lover's basked in the calming aura of the other's mere presence. With his eyes closed, and a pleasant quirk to his lips, Ichigo burrowed his face into the snug confines of Shirosaki's chest, relishing in that powerful, citrusy musk.

"Hey, Shi…?"

The vampire stirred, curling him in even tighter. "Hm? What is it, mah beautiful mortal?"

"Ask me again when we find her."

A/N: Okay, so as y'all may have realised - it is highly probable that yah have already indulged in this li'l story of mine. It was removed by the site a few days ago due to it's content bein'; "not suitable for all audience" - whatever in the nine circles of the Underworld tha's supposed to mean. It's rated "M" is it not? Urrf.

Don' get me wrong; am not upset for myself. I mean, I have all my stories saved an' backed up an' the likes. It really wasn't too much hassle or bother to get her up an' runnin' again. Am only annoyed tha' so many people took the time out of their own days/lives to read and/or favourite this, an' now I've gone an' lost all of yer wonderful reviews an' kind words of support... Tha's something I won't ever get back, and truthfully - it irks me to no end.

*shrugs* What can yah do, ne?

If yer new to this particular babe of mine, then I sincerely hope yah derived some enjoyment durin' the read, an' if yer back for the second time - well, the same applies really (: I don't expect such a grand reception this time around, due to the fact tha' it's essentially a repeat, but I want all of yah who have been here before ta know tha' yer generosity and endorsement for the initial upload will never be forgotten, an' is still greatly appreciated. For serial.

Read an' enjoy at yer own risk, bellas~