A/N: Konnichiwa, minna! I said I would update this sporadically, and as Friday was my beloved Silva's birthday, I started writing this for her, since this whole fic has been based around her and me as Master and pet in our relationship. After the middle ( ~*~ ), she joined me in writing from then to the end.

A couple warnings this time:

1. This chapter is hella long! I mean like almost as long as the other three chapters put together, but because it all happens in one night, I can't split it up.
2. There is an EXPLICIT BDSM SCENE in this. Yes, for those of you who have been begging me for the kink that is so integral to the lifestyle, here you go. Those of you who are weak at heart, don't read this. Seriously. As anyone in the lifestyle knows, it always goes worse before it gets better, and we've gone pretty intense here.
3. Please, remember to keep your reviews you aren't you'll wind up like the few I've deleted, and I really don't wanna have to delete reviews from my fics.

Whew, long A/N is long! So, without further ado, sit back, buckle up, and get ready for a wicked ride. Enjoy, minna! Ja ne!

Today actually started several weeks ago. He had the date circled in bright red ink on the calendar out in the hall. If any of his roommates asked, he only shook his head and smirked, not answering any of their questions. Well, except one. He talked to Renji about it, but that was different. Renji knew what the code words on the calendar meant now, and the redhead's eyes had widened impossibly when he saw it the first time. He came running to ask if it really meant what he thought it meant and please, please, please could Ichigo explain it again? Of course…that probably stemmed from the tattoo artist's newest accessory. The double sakura flower on the tag was almost as stunning as his own gothic 6. Almost.

In hindsight, having Renji in on his secret was a big help. Because it meant that he could get the equipment he needed without having to let Master know that he was planning something. He couldn't, wouldn't, lie to the blunette, and he was no good at skirting a topic this important to him. So, that meant that his beloved Master simply couldn't be involved in anyway. However, that also meant that Ichigo was up the creek without a paddle when it came to running his errands, because he couldn't go out alone, it was part of their rules. Thus, Renji's help.

Six weeks to get all of the pieces together, five days to re-arrange everyone's schedules so that it was possible, four hours to set everything up at their favorite club, three minutes to settle his incredibly tightly wound nerves with two bottles of his favorite beer, one steadfast, newly collared best friend to help him make it all happen, and there he was, ready to do what he never thought in a million years, he'd ever be able to bring himself to do. And in public no less!

"Is everything ready?" Rukia asked, walking through the door from outside fanning her neck to cool off from the still hot and humid July air.

Jackie answered from across the mostly empty place, "Yeah. Red's puttin' the finishing touches on him now."

"Good, because our guest of honor is on his way." Uryuu pushed his glasses up his nose with a pretentious sort of air that betrayed how nervous the brunette was about everything.

Chad laid a hand on the slender man's shoulder and gave him a small smile before moving off to the bar to converse with Iba about making sure Sajin didn't get out where he could potentially get in the way. The mastiff sized mutt was contained behind the bar on a thick, sturdy leash, but the way he cared for Ichigo could make the orangette's plans go horribly awry if he was loose.

The last of their side of things stepped through the door a moment after his sister, and turned cold steel-grey eyes on the usually boisterous club. They had only a few minutes left. Streamers lined the railings. Balloons crowded the ceiling in a big net that would be released at some point once the dance floor was full of people. Each table sported a bowl of various party-style snacks, and each seat had a small stack of coupons that were specifically for the bar, with the assurance that only certain people would have more than one of those coupons to use. Everyone else only got to cash in one. There were a few gifts piled on their usual table, but nothing over the top, the spotlight wasn't supposed to be on them after all. So, Byakuya gave a curt nod and spoke softly, though his voice carried.

"He's coming."

There was momentary panic as everyone scrambled, in their own fashion and some more frantically than others, to get into position around their table. The pair known collectively as the Twins ducked through a hidden door out of sight into a back room invisible from the entrance. Then the door burst open and the man of the hour stomped in out of the heat with a glare on his face like he wanted to rip someone's throat out with his bare hands, or maybe his teeth? He was looking over his shoulder and scoffed at Nnoi and Z, both of whom just grinned at him.

"The next time ya wanna drag me out on my birthday, Cif, I'm tellin' ya, leave yer woman at home!" He growled.

The man he addressed merely smiled, stepping in behind him, hands in the pockets of his jeans like it wasn't eighty degrees in the shade, with an entirely too-warm, a hand-knitted, garish, orange, green, yellow, and blue scarf seemingly unnoticed around his throat. "My apologies, Jag, I was unaware that she would be so enthusiastic."

"Bullshit." Grimmjow spat, stomping over to the table, while Orihime bit her lip and hung back behind Ulquiorra's shoulder for protection against the fearsome Dominant male. That's when the blunette took in both the level of volume in the place and the decorations. "OH hell the fuck no! I do NOT do birthday parties. Fuck that. Fuck this. Iba, gimme somethin' strong so I c'n fight off th' horde out front tryin' ta claw m' clothes off cuz somebody told 'em it was m' birthday!"

The bartender just grinned and shook his head, the same way the two bouncers had.

"Oh fuckin' hell. Yer in on this shit too!? God fuckin'…when I find out which one o' ya shit-stains came up wi' this idea, I'mma re-arrange yer face so it matches yer ass."

The blunette growled deeply, and sucked his teeth, realizing he wasn't going to get out of it. So, he sat, heavily, on one of the stools at the bar, refusing to sit at their usual table, because that would mean he forgave them for dragging him out on a night when all he really wanted to do was go home, curl up in a ball with his pet, and forget that he was turning another year older. Worse yet, out of all of the group there, the gorgeous orangette wasn't one of them. He vaguely noticed Renji and the Twins were missing too, but really, the pit in his stomach that was warm and full when Ichigo was around, hung dead and cold without him. Not that he let on to this in any real significant way in front of the others, especially with them watching him so closely, but internally, he allowed himself a small sigh of disappointment about his pet's absence before his attention was brought back to the group of tormentors he called his friends the rest of the year.

"If His Majesty is quite finished ranting, I believe we can allow the others to join us now." Uryuu adjusted his glasses again, speaking to Ulquiorra and Iba, who in turn gave the word to Noi and Z to let loose the clamoring masses.

In less than the time it took Orihime to leap from Ulquiorra's car and tackle-hug the birthday boy with her squeal of joy, the club's outer ring was jam packed with bodies. The only portion that had any room to move was the corner that was their usual place, and the dance floor was purposely corded off so that no one could get on it. Someone in the DJ booth was playing decent background music, but nothing anybody could really dance to anyway, so it didn't really matter. There was hum of conversation, punctuated with random strangers all calling out thank you's and happy birthday's to the group of regulars, not really caring who the actual target was since they all got one free drink on the house, and the rest of the night was twenty percent off as long as they didn't order top shelf stuff.

About half an hour into the mingling, Grimmjow turned to Ulquiorra, who was always responsible for the shenanigans that surrounded him on his birthday, and Uryuu, who seemed to know the most about the event, and asked, "So, I get th' party thing, but what's th' big deal wi' th' dancin'? And where's—"

"Hush." His stoic best friend cut him off, taking a sip of some dark amber liquid poured over perfectly square ice cubes.

"It'll be obvious when things really get going." The be-speckled other stoic added, taking a drink of his own concoction, which to Grimmjow's way of thinking was both pansy-assed and wimpy, but to each their own.

In the back room of the club, beyond the DJ booth, and hidden from all of the party-goers, Renji wiped an oil-slick hand across Ichigo's chest. "There. Yer ready."

"I sure hope so." The orangette swallowed heavily, willing his body to not react to his best friend's touch.

From behind him, where his arms were currently being bound in high-quality jute cord, the deep baritone of Byakuya poured over his spine, "You will do fine, pet. Remember your training and present yourself the way you did in rehearsal, and everything will be perfect."

Ichigo nodded, swallowing once more. He'd been preparing for this for months. He hadn't seen his Master privately in almost six weeks, and hadn't touched himself in the entire time. That had taken some doing, but thanks to Renji's new-found submission, Byakuya and Rukia made it easier to coordinate double scenes intended to enhance the redhead's stamina, which meant neither pet was allowed to climax during the entire thing.

Feeling the last of the knots binding his wrists together, the orangette tried not to shift too much. The plug pressing against his prostate did everything it could to override the pain he received from the steel cage around his genitals. Neither could be seen for the black spandex booty shorts that were the only piece of clothing he was allowed to wear, and that was only because if things went well tonight, the only person with the privilege to see what was under those tiny pants was his Master.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and Rukia, mostly off to the side but also behind him, could tell because in the very next second he received a smart across his mostly revealed backside with the crop she carried. He gasped and bit his lip against the pain of arousal, as his length tried to swell within its confines, only to be held back by the unforgiving metal. It made him groan, and he was thankful that neither Grimmjow, nor the Twins, particularly enjoyed enforcing Silence Rules. If he had to hold back on his vocalizations as well as his pleasure and nerves, he thought he might very well explode from all of the stuff bottled up within him. Though, truthfully, the back of his mind continued to remind him that the more he held in, the bigger his release would be when it finally came.

"There. He's ready, Sir, Ma'am." Renji stepped back, and at the same time Ichigo winced as Rukia's riding crop snapped across the back of the redhead's thighs.

The Mistress spoke over his whimper of pain, "You do not get to decide that, pet."

"Of course, Ma'am. I'm sorry, Ma'am." The newer submissive tried desperately to keep the smile out of his voice, but she heard it anyway, causing the crop to strike him a second time.

Really, he was quite the brat. Always speaking out of turn. Being defiant. Acting out. It was amusing to watch him being punished, especially by someone as tiny as Rukia or as dainty looking as Byakuya, though Ichigo knew first hand that both weren't as fragile as they appeared. Broaching the subject of bringing a D/s element into their triangular relationship had been like giving Sajin filet mignon after a few lessons in Dominance. The three of them took to it like fish to water, and as Renji's submissive advisor, Ichigo was quite proud of his best friend's progress, even if he did deliberately get in trouble. That was part of the fun, after all. The orangette supposed that if Renji wasn't punished often enough, he might very well lose interest in it, and that would unbalance the trio's relationship. So, he supposed, it was a very good thing that his fellow submissive really got off on being punished.

Tonight was no different, as the speedo the tattoo artist wore did nothing to hide the way being struck several times with the crop affected him. Especially when he earned two more strikes and a hair pull scolding from Byakuya when he snickered after being told to be quiet because the noise outside the room was beginning to die down. It was almost time!

When the lights dimmed to highlight the dance floor, it put Grimmjow on edge. Simultaneously, Byakuya clipped the first of two large, chain-link leashes to the D-ring on Ichigo's collar. The murmurs of the crowd brought a head to the tension, as the door to the back room opened. Only the heavy sense of something very important going on kept the blunette's tongue still, nursing his third beer as he was. Then the sound of metal scraping heavily against itself cut through the crowd's vocal curiosity, and the birthday boy leaned forward in his seat.

Byakuya and Rukia, each holding the leather handgrip of the two leashes, stepped into the light fully. The male dressed in a sharp, military-style uniform with combats boots so shiny they were reflective and a starched hat tucked under his arm out of reverence for being inside in the presence of a more experienced Top. The woman, too, wore a military style get up, though obviously modeled after the female version of her partner's, and her riding crop was folded up in her armpit much like her brother's cap. They stopped midway across the floor, dead center of the spotlights, and it was obvious that the whatever was on the other end of the leash was being pulled in behind them. This caused another round of mutterings and speculation from the crowd, though those in the know understood, and Those in the Know knew as well, even if they weren't personal friends of the birthday boy and his group.

The click of their boot heels again cut the room to silence, and Byakuya spoke, his dulcet tones carrying through the still air, "Master Grimmjow, we come bearing a gift for your birthday. It seems we have come across something that belongs to you, and it pleaded with us to bring it before you so that it might beg for mercy and forgiveness for being so bold as to approach another Dominant behind your back."

That had the blunette's eyes going wide and he jumped to his feet. There was a beat, a heavy pause, where he was torn and everyone was looking at him expectantly. An instantaneous glance told him that the entire group of his friends had known this was going to happen, and the pit in his stomach that he'd been trying to drown with alcohol flared ever so slightly with hope, before it twisted with nerves. He covered it with a sneer, and stepped around the table to approach the railing though.

"Oh really?" He rumbled, tilting his chin to look down his nose at the pair on the dance floor.

Behind them, Ichigo trembled in the shadows. Was He happy? Was this the right way to go? Oh, Gods, what if He was angry? What if He didn't want to be this public with it? He'd hesitated. The orangette could see that, hear the confusion in His voice, and trace the nerves making the line of His neck taut. He covered it well. He always did. Even that first night when He'd been so terrified that He'd read Ichigo wrong, none of their friends could tell. It hadn't been until much later that the submissive veteran had listened to how tied up in knots his beloved Dominant had been that night, and it had taken an intense Scene that lasted for hours to take them both into the right mindset for Grimmjow to confess such things. The orangette's mind whirled with worry, bright, amber eyes seeking the confident cinnamon of his best friend for comfort as his resolve began to weaken. Just as he was shaking his head at Renji, trying to tell him that he wasn't ready, couldn't do this in front of so many people, the chains that connected to his collar yanked him forward, jostling both the cage around his genitals and the plug within his ass.

He stumbled into the light with a gasping moan-like noise, and there was nothing else he could do but follow through with his plans. The Twins were talking with Grimmjow, but he heard none of it. His blood was rushing in his ears, his heart was pounding, his cock ached something fierce, and the pressure on his shoulders from where his arms were laced together behind his back was almost too much to think clearly. He dared a glance up at the imposing, and mouthwatering sight of his Dominant standing behind the railing, not leaning, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he owned the place. The world, rather. Their eyes met, and Ichigo's went wide again.

"Very well, what does the pet want to say?" He watched the words formed on his Master's lips, but the sound didn't hit him right away.

His stomach quivered, and he realized he was being addressed. Another shaky step forward brought him fully into the center of the light, and he was vaguely aware of the other two stepping back. Later, he thought he remembered Rukia giving him an encouraging smile covertly, and Byakuya's hand on his shoulder when they unclipped the leashes that they'd used to present him, but in the moment, there was only the cerulean ocean that were his Master's eyes, drowning him. He swallowed heavily, and the rest of the club disappeared.

Falling to his knees in a way that made many of the people watching wince, especially the ones who knew about his injury, he began to speak, "Master, greetings upon this most joyful of days; the day with which You chose to grace the submissives of the world with Your birth." The steadiness of his voice amazed him, as internally he was a swarm of geese with no coordination, "This boy is nothing but a humble, and ofttimes naughty, pet, who wishes he could serve You far better than he has. He is so terribly grateful for Your presence, and of all the marks he carries, Your tag is the one that makes him most proud."

A murmur ran through the crowd, most were confused, but a few were beginning to get the idea. Smiles began to break out around the room, and Grimmjow had to actually clear his throat for quiet so that Ichigo could continue to speak.

The break in his flow of words caused the nerves to return full force, and behind his back, the veteran gripped the knot between his hands with sweaty palms. He swallowed several times, blinking and trying to get his rhythm back. Oh God, what if He said no?! But those bright, burning blue eyes were boring into his soul, and another swallow found his voice again.

"With that in mind, Master, this boy is begging You to come closer. Take his hair in Your hand and let him promise to serve you always? Please, let him be Yours? Let him place a small, insignificant token upon Your body so that the world will know of his servitude for you?"

Grimmjow's stance changed, though he kept eye contact, because he could sense his pet needed it to endure the act of baring himself to the entire club. A club where he was well-known now for his dancing skills, in spite of his war-scars, and his confident, jovial attitude. If things went badly for the orange-haired submissive, he was opening himself up for any one of a number of Nilla tormentors who could sneak under the security, and threaten him. Deep within the blunette's core, he was amazed. Two short years under his Dominance had turned this one-time anti-social, surly wallflower into an amazingly sexy, confident, ballsy pet. The mere fact that Ichigo was even doing anything remotely like this blew his mind. So when the speech started to change, the corner of his mouth tugged up, warmth flooding the center of his body.

Before he even realized he was doing it, the Master had stepped around the barrier, onto the dance floor and was approaching his pet. The movement stilled the veteran again, and he blinked up several times at his Master, hope and nervousness in his eyes. He chewed on his lip, and the bigger man did reach out to run his strong fingers through the soft umber spikes. There was a heavy moment of silence.

"What exactly are you asking me, pet?" Grimmjow rumbled.

"Master…" Ichigo smiled a tiny bit, "will you marry me?"

Tension built between them, the crowd leaned in unconsciously, and the submissive swallowed convulsively as the Master continued to stroke his hair. When it seemed like the anticipation could get no thicker, Grimmjow opened his mouth in a wide, lecherous grin that only Ichigo was able to read through.

"Pet, there is no fuckin' thing in this world I would love more than to marry you, make you mine permanently, forever and for always. But before that..." His fingers clung a bit tighter to orange strands, not pulling but holding him with absolute firmness, as the club gasped quietly. "…we'll need to address the issue of you approaching not one Dominant other than your rightful Master, but two. Not to mention letting anyone," his eyes glittered in the club lights, darkened to cobalt with a mix of lust and love, "touch you the way I know they had to in order to present you in this manner. I'm afraid wedding plans will have to wait...and so will the celebration," he added to the gathered crowds. "On your feet, boy. Part of your punishment will be waiting exactly as you are on the long ride home."

The cheer around the club did nothing to cover the moaning whine that escaped Ichigo's throat. The tug on his hair was just enough to help him climb to his feet, and doing so drew another wincing groan from his lips as his cock tried to swell and once again found that it couldn't. The skin tight shorts he wore did nothing to hide this fact from his Master. Being this pent up, even the tiny release of being hauled around by his hair was enough to bring tears to the corners of his eyes, and the joy in his chest was so much more than any threat of punishment that could be dished out. He grinned, licking his lips, and wanting to taste Grimmjow's, but knowing better than to ask.

"Yes, Master." He out right moaned, sending the entire club up in cheers for a second time.

Grimmjow licked his own lips in response, not just on instinct but as a deliberate tease. He knew his pet wanted them, but the submissive would be denied that for quite some time.

"That's a boy. Come."

He unlaced his fingers from his hair to hook his first finger in one of the rings the leashes had been clipped to and pulled Ichigo as he turned and began to saunter his way through the club to the door, fully expecting his pet to follow so he didn't actually have to yank the collar and smirking devilishly as the crowd parted before him.

Obedient as always, the shivers running down the orangette's spine were delicious, and made the discomfort of each step that much more torturous for the anticipation of what was to come once they returned to the blunette's high-rise condo.

Behind them, the crowd continued to cheer and throw congratulations, as Ulquiorra stepped onto the floor. He had a microphone borrowed from the DJ, and after the door to the club closed, he tapped it a few times. "Thank you all for your patience tonight, enjoy the rest of your night, and drink responsibly."

He handed it back, and quickly evacuated the open space as the barrier that had been keeping everyone back was taken down and party-goers flooded the center of the club. The music pumped, and after a few moments the balloon net was released, showering the guests with confetti, latex and Mylar that served as a cocktail catalyst for their celebrating. The stoic brunette shook his head with a small smile and rejoined his friends. They were gathered around their usual table, as they had expected this would happen. Either Grimmjow would say yes, and he would take Ichigo back to his place, or he would say no and Byakuya, Rukia and Renji would take Ichigo back home. It went without saying that all gathered were glad it had gone the way it did. Thus, with Renji and company changed into more suitable public clothing, they got down to enjoying their night out, chit-chatting about the things that had happened in their daily lives since the last time they'd all gotten together, and how well the redhead's submissive training was going. It was something of an amusement to the whole group whenever the tattoo artist had to own up to being a brat. So, Jackie and Uryuu especially heckled him about it.

Out in the car, Ichigo squirmed a little, trying to find a position where the plug in his backside wasn't digging directly into his prostate. He was mostly unsuccessful, and tried to look apologetic, though he failed horribly thanks to the combination of joy and pleasure radiating from his chest.

"Am I to keep silent during the ride as well, Master?"

"No, pet," Grimmjow replied smoothly as he drove out of the parking lot and tried not to watch Ichigo squirm out of the corner of his eye. If he took his eyes off the road he might not put them back there, and he rather wanted to get home safe. "I rather enjoy the sounds you make. And since I plan on taking a very particular route home, I definitely expect to hear your reactions, since I cannot endanger our lives by watching you."

The veteran couldn't keep the smile off his face, for all that he tried to look contrite. "Yes. Master."

The first set of potholes, he wrote off, not thinking much of them. The train tracks were no different, though more jarring and had him whimpering after the second set. When the car turned down a street where the paving had been stripped away in anticipation of being re-finished, Ichigo's eyes widened a little and bit his lip. The vibration of the tires along the street shot straight up his spine, and his body pulsed in the pattern of his heartbeat, a semi-false climax that brought him gasping for breath and holding on to his bindings for fear of digging his nails into his skin.

"Ahn...ha..." He panted, eyes closed in that suspended place between pain and pleasure.

Two more sets of potholes and another train track later, he was whimpering with every breath, a light sheen of sweat broke out across his oil-slick skin. But he held out. No tears. At least...until Grimmjow brought them through the historical district, and down the broad, cobblestone thoroughfare that was stylized to look like the entire city had at the turn of the 20th century. He cried out, hunching over as best he could, and by the middle of the street, he broke, a keening sob filling the car. It hurt so much, and he wanted to much more, and the tension of everything, the build-up was just too much and since he couldn't come. He cried. Rivers of tears down his face, as he sucked in breaths that really only made the ride worse. He felt humiliated and abused, like his soul had been wrenched from his body and dry cleaned. It was raw, and primal, and mind-consuming, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Grimmjow drove the thoroughfare two more times before deciding his pet had had enough and swinging instead down a second stripped street over one more set of train tracks and a handful of potholes before reaching the driveway to the garage attached to his high rise. And then, because he saw Ichigo in the corner of his eye start to relax in anticipation of the ride ending, he drove into one more pothole he usually avoided in the garage; a fairly dramatic dip over a drain where the pavement had, over the course of many rainstorms, been worn into gravel at the edges. It shuddered and jolted the whole car before he pulled into his parking space and put the car in park so he could finally look over and take in the sight of his pet.

In a word, the orangette was a mess. His eyes were unfocused, his hands gripping reflexively at the knots around his wrists, and at some point he'd fallen onto the floor of the car, so he was on his knees, drenched in sweat and body oil, high on pain. The removal of the stimulus left him practically salivating, and the way he kept working his tongue in his mouth only proved the point further. It was no less than he expected, and far more than he felt he was entitled to receive. His performance in front of the club-goers and their friends had to have really made an impression on his Master. Though, by that point, truly, he wasn't really thinking about anything other than the sensations his entirely over-stimulated and pent up body was giving him.

The blunette smirked as he got out of the car and came around to Ichigo's side, opening it and picking the smaller man up in his arms. Normally, he'd make his naughty pet walk, but seeing as it wasn't unusual to find shattered glass in here he wasn't going to chance it, since he'd taken the veteran as he was—practically nude, with no shoes.

"That had to have been one of the most remarkably pleasant rides I've ever had," he purred darkly as he kicked the door shut and carried his pet over to the door, where with a shifting of weight and some very tricky finger work he got the handle to twist and let them in. Once on carpet, he set Ichigo on his feet and used one hand on the knot between his wrists to hold him steady.

"You are going to walk to the elevator, pet. Anyone who stares is to be ignored- nobody exists in the building except me, am I clear?"

It may have been pushing the envelope a bit, but strutting in their own home building couldn't possibly be worse than presenting himself before the club, so Grimmjow was confident in his demand.

The orangette's head rolled back to give a heated smile, "You're the only one in the world, Master."

Then he stumbled forward. His normally slight limp exaggerated by the extended length of time he'd been on his knees, and it made progress slow. A year ago, it would have been enough to make him cry out their safeword, shattering his headspace and forcing the night into ruins. Six months ago, he'd have had to work at keeping his high, the shame of hobbling too much to bear where people could see him, it was why he still wore baggy jeans, even though he hated the style. Three months ago, he might have paused when the security guard raised his eyebrow at the pair and blushed drunkenly like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. But tonight? Tonight nothing could interfere. This was the most intense scene they'd ever done. The highest he'd ever been in public, and the most humiliation he'd ever received. Just as the elevator doors opened and they entered the metal box, he giggled.

"Worth it."

Grimmjow's grip on his ties allowed him to both hold Ichigo steady and maneuver him right where he wanted him. And his smile, as he also entered the elevator, was completely predatory. The others were brushed off, and the security guard only got a mirrored raised brow in return.

"Mmm. It'll be even more worth it once I find out exactly what you're hiding under that scrap of cloth that is covering what belongs strictly to me from prying eyes," he rumbled like the engine of his car. "And then, of course, proceed to your next punishment."

"You're gonna like it." The veteran teased. "I bought it just for tonight, and," When they stopped outside the door so the blunette could unlock it, he leaned in so he could whisper, "I haven't masturbated in almost two months."

Truly, the last time he'd actually climaxed had been the last session with Renji where the Twins were learning about shibari and the pressure points that drove the person being tied up the most wild. Orgasm denial was one of the first steps, something that he had been doing to himself before Grimmjow came along, and that lesson was still his favorite. But, orgasm control? Took all of his favorite parts of denial and placed them firmly in his Master's sinful voice. Just the phrase 'come for me' was enough to make him shoot off if he was fully entrenched in the scene. So, two months, without any sort of climax at all? He was going to be like a gunslinger with an itchy trigger finger.

The growl that ripped from his Master's throat was uncontrolled and primal. For several seconds, he struggled with the urge to throw Ichigo against the door and tear those sinful shorts right off him, but the thought of anyone else seeing what belonged to him drove him to finish unlocking the door and pushing it open, holding it as he ordered, "Proceed to the bedroom. Your punishment is not over yet."

Once Ichigo had entered, he shut the door carefully, he needed to breathe and remember to stay in complete control and not descend on his pet like some beast, tempting though it was, and locked it before moving after the mouth-watering submissive.

The orangette was laying on the bed, spread eagle but for the binding holding his arms behind his back, and somehow through sheer determination and willpower, he already had the chains attached to the wall above his side of the bed attached to this collar. When the blunette entered the room, he smiled and bit his lip.

"I'm a bad boy, Master. Will you teach me who I belong to?"

The blunette's Adam's apple bobbed as a second, deeper rumble than the first forced its way out of him and in the low light of the room his eyes seemed to glow.

"That, pet, is EXACTLY what I'm gon' ta do," he murmured darkly as he stalked forward, but not to the bed. To the chest in which he kept his tools and toys. From it he withdrew lube, and a short crop before slinking over to the bed. "And I'm also going to teach you not to let others touch what belongs to your Master. I'm very jealous. I don't like it when other people handle my things."

"The Twins made me play with Renji." The submissive rolled over, his muscles shifting under creamy skin as all he used to perform the move was his core, and he hiked his hips up, knowing that the shorts were soon to be history.

"Even worse," Grimmjow returned, managing to keep his voice calm through a feat of will he wasn't sure he could keep up much longer as he let the crop trail down Ichigo's spine until it reached the top of the shorts. "You allowed yourself to be manhandled by two other Doms. You submitted to their will even if you played with their pet rather than themselves."

With no warning the light touch of the crop was gone and there was the sensation of pressure before the shorts were torn to shreds from fingers curling into both sides and yanking brutally.

The vision the Dominant received could only be described as poetry in flesh. Bound by steel, but accented with sapphires and aquamarine, both cage and plug were carved with an inscription. "For now, forever, for always, Master's little Strawberry Kitten." Tension filled the air, and Ichigo turned his head, his eyes more clear than they had been since before the car ride, watching his Master, his lover, his other half take in the sight.

"Do you like it?" He spoke when the silence became too much, and his tone was anything but submissive, though it was still nervous.

Grimmjow's eyes were soft as he reached out and ran a finger over the gems set into the metal, his other hand on Ichigo's hip. "Yes, Ichi, I do. We will be keeping these," he tapped the plug with a knuckle and a dark chuckle, "in a lovely glass case from which I will only remove it to be used. However, that is in the future and at present we have other things to attend to, pet."

The grin was back, and his amber eyes danced with mischief, "Yes, Master."

The hand that had been resting on his hip abruptly gave his gluteus muscle a firm smack, the flesh immediately turning red as he smirked. "Your punishment is not yet over, boy. Don't forget that."

He picked up the crop, twirling it between his fingers as his free hand guided Ichigo's hips up, bare with only that plug. Perfectly positioned for smacking.

Just to be a brat, quite literally, the orangette wiggled his hips, his toes curling with anticipation of that first, delicious sting. His fingers gripped the knot between his wrists again and he bit his lip, trying to school his features into a more serious expression, but tonight was just going too well for the submissive to really contain it.


Three sharp hits came down on him in such quick succession it drew out into one long, exquisite pain that radiated through the whole of the asscheek that was not already warm from the mark of his hand, and two more were quickly laid upon the backs of his thighs.

"Naughty tonight, aren't we, pet?"

He jumped, eyes closing for the fraction of a second before the burn began, and he moaned, "Yes, Master. Very naughty."

"Naughty boys are punished. Though this lovely cage is doing a marvelous job," the crop trailed around to his front, just barely brushing the swollen, overworked, sensitive flesh between the bars before whipping back to his ass and laying another series of marks, this time a set of ten. Five to each cheek.

"Nngah." It took all of his willpower to hold still, and his shoulders quivered, even as his breath began to pick up.

Grimmjow paused again with the crop, once more running his fingers over the plug. Examining it. And then giving it a thrust, just to watch Ichigo twitch and buck before laying another six swats on him, always keeping the number and placement inconsistent.

He cried out again, pulsing in the cage, and that more than the welts forming on his behind, brought the first of what promised to be just as powerful a round of tears as the first set. The elusive ethereal realm of subspace beckoned to him, promising all the release in the world, just as soon as his Master told him he could. The thought forced another whine from his mouth and his knuckles whitened in his grip.

The Dominant man drew him closer and closer to those mists of pleasure, alternating lashes of the crop with gentle and pleasurable touches. Always alternating. Keeping it unpredictable so the veteran couldn't escape it.

Higher and higher and then higher still. Stars in his eyes, blood rushing in his ears, and yet the outline of his Master's form was in stark clarity to the distortion of the world around him. His hearing straining for those minute sounds: the whoosh of air before the snap of leather on flesh, and the hidden, barely audible deep breaths that told him the pain he felt gave his Master the pleasure that no other thing ever could. It drove him wild, left him pleading, begging, crying for more. The veil growing thinner and thinner, though he couldn't cum, couldn't even get fully hard no matter how much his body wanted to, because of the cage. Unrelenting steel as steadfast as the variations in the way his Master wound up his body.

Grimmjow was unsure how much time had passed when he once more tucked the crop under his arm and used his fingers curled under his pet's chin to tilt his head up, meeting those beautiful, shining brown eyes, dilated almost to pure black, and let his voice, rusty with lust, grace Ichigo's ears again.

"You have taken your punishment very well, pet, and this has pleased me. I am going to undo the cage, but you are not allowed to come yet. Do you understand?"

If the pet was too far gone, he wouldn't be able to obey the order. And considering how intense, and how long, the scene had been, that was entirely possible.

The orangette's eyes crossed. He took a deep breath of the intense scent that was defined only as 'Master' in his mind. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and clear some of the salt from them. His hands twitched, and his muscles shivered. Then he blinked, the gears working to break through the haze so he could be good. He wanted to be good. Tonight was important. Because if he was good tonight, it would prove he could serve Master for the rest of his life, just like he promised.

So, it started with a nod, and after a few more swipes of his tongue, blinks of his eyes, he spoke, hoarse and breathy, "Y-yes, Master."

"Good boy." The blunette purred, very softly, and bent down enough to finally reward his pet with a kiss.

It was light, and didn't last very long. But it was still a reward. His fingers then moved down, to the cage, and slid along the metal, looking for and finding the mechanism that kept it tightly shut and undoing it.

The second he was free, Ichigo gasped and fell forward, his control pulling at his fingertips like a raging feral cat. His flesh pulsed, blood that had been trying so terribly, desperately, to fill his manhood rushed through his body, and the combination brought another voice breaking sob from his tortured throat. He spread his legs further, breathing through clenched teeth, murmuring almost under his breath, "I'll be good. I'll be good. I'll be good." Like a mantra.

Grimmjow let him collect himself as he set the cage aside. He did not touch, he was certain if he did Ichigo would be unable to hold back. When the panting stopped being quite so violent, he reminded, "You may not come," before taking the plug in hand and gently pulling that from his body as well.

Again control tried to flee. His hands became talons in a physical attempt to grasp what his mind could feel fighting, twisting, straining to escape. Everything leaked. Tears, drool, pre-ejaculate, and lubricant, but somehow, through the abuse and neglect, beyond the restraint and the denial, Ichigo grasped a single word, "Yes." Over and over and over, it echoed in deep, rumbling tones, like the growl of a wild jungle cat, ringing through his mind as a constant reminder of what all of this was for. And that kept his discolored, and quivering flesh from doing anything more than cry for release.

Again his Master waited, much longer this time. When his trembling became relatively less, the Dominant pulled the fingers of one hand through the veteran's hair, as the other released most of the bindings on his arms, leaving only his wrists bound with a fairly long piece of rope between them.

"My good boy. Now wait."

The blunette used only the lightest of touches, guiding his abused body into a more comfortable position, helping him bring his wrists back around to the front, and trying to coax him back from that edge just enough to complete the scene. Though to be honest, if Ichigo lost control, Grimmjow wouldn't, couldn't, fault him for it.

He was so close, and it had been so long. All the orangette could do was pant, holding himself up on exhausted muscles and bodily fluids plastered his bangs to his face such that they covered his forehead with a single opening for his eye to roll back so he could catch his Master's gaze. Deep within himself, he had begun to be able to compartmentalize what was happening, and he knew he had to finish. They'd come too far, and done too much for him to lose it now. So, with some reserve of strength that only his Master could pull out of him, he curled his abs, tucking his knees and elbows under him to force himself into a kneeling position on the bed, though he hissed through tightly clenched teeth when the tip of his cock brushed the soft Egyptian cotton.

He turned to look over his shoulder, his face drawn and exhausted, but fire in his eyes. The kind that only shone at this stage of the scene. He was at the edge and had blown past it, pushing into places he'd never before even imagined existing, let alone thinking about being there himself. This was what had gotten him out of his room, had broken his shell, had replaced his confidence, and tamed his temper. He was used, and his body was at the limits of its endurance, but he felt good! And written in that burning, amber and sienna stare, was the message that only his perfect Dominant, his Master, Grimmjow, could take him there.

The Dominant's smile curled into a wicked grin. "That's it," he murmured as he shed his clothes in record time and flipped open the lube. "That's my boy. Right there. It's time to give you your final reward, pet."

Ready, he slid up the bed on his knees, big hands spanning his waist as he slipped inside like a key into a lock. Ichigo was just made for him.

The chain on his collar jingled melodically against the bright silver tag that glinted in the light of the bedroom, the ebony 6 standing out in sharp relief as he bent his head back to rest on the blunette's shoulder and a moan of pure contentment blossomed between his lips. Turning his face just a fraction meant he could move his mouth against the corner of his Master's jaw, and he threaded his fingers in the blue spikes, using the cord between his wrists to help him hook his trembling arms around Grimmjow's neck. This would be slow and sensual, so that neither one of them lost control. The Master taking his pleasure, and the pet holding back until he had.

The larger man was tempted to close his eyes, but couldn't bear to cut off the vision his pet made as he started to move, slowly and softly. He didn't thrust so much as he rocked, mouthing at Ichigo's neck and nipping lightly with his canines as his hands held onto slim hips to keep them both steady. He could feel those strong thighs twitching and kneaded at them as he ran his lips over the shell of an ear.

Though the sounds the orangette made were a far cry from what he'd been making all night, Ichigo couldn't, and didn't, stop the rise and fall of noise coming from his center with every touch. His skin was on fire, the welts on his back, thighs and ass pinpoint sparks amid the smoldering caress of calloused fingers across his stomach and legs. Where his Master left saliva and breathed created a counter-melody of cold to all the heat, and in the rhythm, his body followed it seamlessly. He had and was giving everything over to the larger man, and that brought a brand new coil of pleasure building slow and creeping through his veins like a python in the Amazon.

Grimmjow expertly pleased his body, fingers rubbing over his nipples, his collarbone, everywhere but his cock as his Master's own breathing started to shorten. The blunette had been hard and wanting since the club, by then he was just about shot. And Ichigo was almost ready to fly. He switched sides and nosed up right underneath the collar with another nip and a kiss.

By the time he registered the change in breathing behind him, the veteran was whimpering and moaning on every exhale, his length, almost purple from need, drooled in front of them both, begging to be touched. He turned his nose into his Master's cheek and mumbled, "M-Master...Ngh...p-please...j-just...Mmm...need-dngh...so-oh...Mmmore...t-t-ta-ah..."

The other smiled into Ichigo's shoulder, and bit down on the submissive's earlobe. With a sharp rock of his hips, he speared his length into the body before him with deadly aim directly into the lithe man's prostate, and purred, "Be a good boy an' come fer Master."

Come? First? What? It was electricity shot from his toes to his crown to his dick. "OH! MASTER!" He cried out and risked further punishment by gripping Grimmjow's hair for balance as wave after wave pure pleasure coursed through his body. His muscles clenched and his eyes fell shut, even as his mouth hung open and jets of hot spunk shot, rocket-like, high enough to hit his own chest. Two months was a very long time to wait according to his balls, and they made up for it by spasming until he felt like he was drained completely. Then, he breathed again, the final cry of the night. Pleasure so hot and so high and so much that it broke everything that was left, creating a seamless, puddle of submissive goo. Tears running down his cheeks, though quiet and precious this time, draining away the last of his tension. He was vaguely aware of his Master behind him, but very quickly he was fading. Subspace called and he no longer had the willpower to resist.

Grimmjow reached his completion while riding out the waves of Ichigo's, and he forgave the hair-pulling because from the angle his lithe body had hit, it was the only way to stay upright. He was left with a double-armful of shuddering pet, whom he eased out of and laid down on his back before undoing the wrist ties, unclipping the chains, and kissed the sweat drenched forehead as he started on aftercare. The toys were set off to the side in a plastic bin specifically placed for such objects that needed to be washed, and he picked Ichigo up to carry him to the bath, where he massaged the blood back into his hands, cleaned him, and set him to rights again while in Grimmjow's lap, murmuring to him all the while.

Just like it had before, returning started with the scent, masculine and clean, and he knew he was safe, utterly, completely, totally safe. Then the warmth and the water, fresh and soothing against his welts and bruises, the oversensitive, secret places. Next the sound, humming and rumbling around and inside him, the only voice he ever wanted to wake up to. And finally, he looked up, tracing the strong profile of his Master...no, the scene was over, not just his Master, his fiancé. Trembling and hesitant, his hand shook as he brought it up to touch the faintly stubbled cheek above him. In the vulnerable state of post-scene, he felt the sting of tears that couldn't come. He'd shed all that his body could and more, so his breath hitched and he made a small, squeak-like noise.

"You said yes." Like he didn't quite believe it.

The blunette's eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled down at him and laughed. "Did you really think I would be stupid enough to say no?"

"Well, I..." Ichigo blushed and shifted, wincing a little. "No. Just...you always told me that you didn't take forever pets. So...maybe I was nervous." He looked up again, saw the look of disbelief, and cringed with a grin, "Ok, fine! I was terrified. You mean so much to me, I just wanna show you that."

His Master snorted. "The key word there, Kitten, is 'didn't'. You're special. You're different. You are the first pet I want to have, to keep, to love and to hold forever," he purred as he sank a bit lower in the water, the soft sound of it swirling against the sides of the tub ringing in his ears as he stroked one hand down the veteran's chest.

"Mmm." The orangette's eyes drifted closed again, "If you hadn't just used me to the point of muscle failure words like that might just be enough to start something. You know that right?"

"Oh I'm aware. Since I'll be saying them again on the wedding day, I'm expecting one hell of a honeymoon, Kitten." Grimmjow's teeth flashed in another of those predatory smiles.

"Just as long as I don't have to walk anywhere the next day...or five." Ichigo snickered, and shifted again, with another wince. "Or sit."

"Worth it," His taunt from the elevator was repeated back to him as his Master made one more pass with the soap. "But whatever body oil Red used, I don't think I like it. Sure, makes you look sexy, but this is hell to try and get off. Those sheets are probably scrap rags by now."

"Ugh! I was so wrapped up in everything I didn't see which one he grabbed." The ginger looked down at his chest and ran a hand through the smears, which were by now discolored and white against his skin. "I'mma kill him. No...I'mma tell the Twins he used the wrong one. No, wait, he'd like that too much. Ugh! I don't know how he can serve two of them!? I have enough trouble surviving you when you get like this. I can't imagine two of you. The last two months have been Hell preparing for this by the way, so I hope you liked it as much as I did."

"I may have damn well liked it better than you did. You weren't the only one who hasn't touched himself in months. And I'll tell the Twins. They can sort it out. Might take away all the oils, since he can't seem to keep them straight." The blunette kissed the side of his neck and soaped the smears that clung stubbornly, using a cloth to gently scrub sensitive skin.

"Eeh..." The submissive was caught between wincing and laughing, "I think my bruises have bruises, you beast."

"You're the one who wants to marry me," Grimmjow returned with a little nip.

"I think that's cuz I'm the idiot who fell in love with the beast." Ichigo laughed, and then sighed. "I think...I wanna have another negotiation before our wedding...I...I think I wanna go to school." Even though it hurt and stung, Ichigo shifted enough so that he could look at his fiancé better. "I think I'm finally ready to face people I don't know. I joined the military not just for the Dominance, but so I could explore the world. Since I got back, I've been trapped in this stationary bubble. You...you showed me how to take it with me, and you've given me a place I can always come home to. A safe place where I'm not locking myself away from the world, but at the same time, I can take a step back when things get too rough out there. I mean, I haven't had a panic attack in almost eight months. I can't say I'm one hundred percent better, but...I think I'm ready for the next step, and...that's what I wanna marry you. You make me stronger."

His Master, for all he was a big badass, melted into a happy puddle of man in the tub, eyes sparkling. "That's great, Kitten! I'm so proud." And he was, he really was. His pet was getting better. In the head. In the heart. Something he'd vaguely hope for but put aside in favor of focusing on the now. "That's a negotiation I'll be happy to have, pet."

"Can...um...can I kiss you?" Mushy, happy, fluffy, and fuzzy, and all of those other candy-coated, commercial feelings brought color to this cheeks, as Ichigo brought his fingers together, feeling an awful lot like a schoolboy with a crush.

"Yes, you may." The larger man chuckled and pulled his pet a little higher on his chest so he could reach him better, fully aware that he wouldn't be able to do so on his own.

He wrapped his arms around the blue haired man's neck, effectively using the stronger, broader frame to give him the support to pull himself up since his legs were little more than jelly at that moment. Then, in the boldest move he'd ever made on his Master, he sealed their lips together, drawing on and pouring more emotion into the kiss than he ever had before. He turned and shifted, just a bit more, so he was sitting in his fiancé's lap, and moaned, threading his fingers through the sky-colored wet spikes for the second time that night. One kiss wasn't enough, and though he had to stop to breathe, he came back for more several times before leaning his forehead against Grimmjow's panting.

His Master indulged him each and every kiss, and when they finished he too was panting, and his eyes flashed open, the brightest, most beautiful multi-hued blue that ever existed as his hands gently kneaded the small of his pet's back. He stared into Ichigo's sepia ones with the same grin that hadn't left his face since the ginger had returned from subspace.

"You've learned well."

"I had the best teacher." The veteran mimicked him, and hummed a sigh of contentment. "I think I'm getting pruny. I can't really tell, most of my lower half doesn't exist."

Grimmjow's response was a completely inelegant huffing snort of candid amusement. "Ah, then we'd best get you out and see if we can't somehow conjure that missing half of you back. I'm sure it'll turn up by morning."

"Yes, aching and sore and wonderfully stiff!" In the theme of amusement and over the top reactions, Ichigo laughed outright, settling once again against his fiancé's chest like it was made for him.

An actual snorted this time, in the back of his throat as the Dominant rose from the bath, smaller male in his arms, and grabbed up a towel to dry him with. "Of course. I'll have the warming lotion waiting so we can massage some life back into you come morning."

The ginger was quiet for most of it, obviously contemplating something. By the time they'd made it back to the bedroom, where he found the sheets had been changed and the toys put aside to be washed, he seemed ready to talk about whatever it was, though he was derailed for a moment by the reality of just how long he'd been in subspace.

With a tender smile, he shook his head, "Remember back when I attacked Renji? That first time, when you barked at him and he didn't know anything about any of this?"

His Master chuckled a bit. "Oh of course I do. We reaffirmed our relationship, our boundaries...I love that memory. Not to mention Red going all sexy and 'Sir'-ing me...which if I recall led to yet more fun that you and I thoroughly enjoyed."

"Well, that part, too." Ichigo smiled again, snuggling down into the pillows. "But back then, through the whole thing...I just wished he could know what this was like. I wish I could share this. This moment with the world." He scoffed, "I know, I know. I sound sub-drunk, but I mean it. Nothing feels better than coming out of subspace and just being with the person who put you there. I always feel more alive right now than I do at any other moment, and whenever I have to deal with some closed-minded Nilla all I can really think about is 'if they could just feel what I feel they wouldn't say the things they say'. You know? They wouldn't...wouldn't do the things they do. They'd understand." He looked down at the blankets, picking at a loose stitch. "It's stupid, you know? To think that there's all this hate over something that brings so much love."

In the middle of that, his voice started to thicken, and he'd stopped looking at Grimmjow, preferring to watch his hands. Something had happened. He hadn't said what yet, but it had. It upset him deeply, deeper than the altercation with Renji, deep enough to chase away the good feeling and warm afterglow to put a crease between his eyebrows and a distance in his eyes. No wonder he'd waited until now to bring it up, whatever it was. He obviously had to be still vulnerable enough to talk about it, but have recovered enough of his inner strength to get through what was turning out to be extremely difficult for him to say.

Neither insisting nor dismissing, not prodding nor ignoring. Simply offering his strength, the blunette held his lover closer and kissed his forehead, then his temple, wordlessly encouraging him. This was one place where limits could not be pushed unless Ichigo was doing it.

"I...uh...talked to my dad. A couple days ago." The veteran leaned into his lover's touch, drawing on the Dominant's strength, "He was psyched. Really excited about you saying yes and everything. Told me," He broke off in the sort of laugh that people make to stave off tears. "Told me he'd get a diamond studded collar for me to wear at the ceremony. Then he did what he always does, shouting and carrying on like he's crazy. Praising my mom and stuff. I think he dropped the phone, cuz Karin picked it up. She tried to wish me luck but Goat Face was too loud. Then she was yelling at him. I think she hit him but I'm not sure, she'd set the phone down before that part. And for a bit I thought maybe that it had been disconnected, cuz you know how they forget to hang it up sometimes. But..." He sucked in a breath and bit his lip, "I...heard...Yuzu. Talking. I don't think she knows the phone was connected, because...the stuff she said. I mean, I know Hanataro's a great guy and they're happy, and Kon's getting so big last time I saw him, but..." He trailed off, fists wrapped in the blanket. "She hates me. Hates you. Hates the BDSM stuff. Hates that we're gay. Hates everything about it. Hanataro tried to make her think about it, but she slammed something, like a spoon or something. Said she...she didn't want...a 'perverted and obscene, fudge packing, faggoty, freak' around her son."

Grimmjow was...honestly...stunned. Yuzu? Kind, generous, sweet Yuzu? Well, obviously she wasn't any of those if she'd been talking like that. Not to anyone who didn't fit her worldview. His teeth clenched and muscles in his jaw jumped as he swallowed and tried to formulate his thoughts.

"She's...I never thought she'd feel that way. Much less say it," he said softly, holding his pet closer. "When we visted, she never...acted like she hated us."

"I know! That's why it...I just...How am I supposed to look her in the eye now? She can't possibly know I was listening, could she? I mean, I hung up the phone right after she said that so I have no idea what happened after, but...what do we do?" Scared, hurt, and lost, Ichigo looked up at his Master, needing the visual reminder of the strength they had together.

He pulled his fingers through orange hair with a deep, deep frown. "I...I don't know. She's not my sister. If she were, I would take the fight to her, confront her on her own turf and challenge her, call her out, but...that would be my sister. She's not my sister, she's yours. Do you think it would do you or anyone else any good to confront her?"

He nuzzled into him. Yuzu, of all people!

"Your sister would kick your ass and then make you Dominate her." The orangette snickered. "You're so lucky you grew up in the lifestyle. I can't imagine what that must have been like knowing that your mom and dad were like you and me. If I was ever interested in having a woman Dominate me, Mistress Halibel would be my first choice."

"Yeah. Mom knows what the fuck she's doing alright. That's why Nel could kick my ass. Which is why a confrontation would work so well. Because Mom's a Dominant, she gives Nelly the confidence to be completely comfortable fighting it out." He shook his head fondly- he did love his sister and the rest of his nutjob family.

The submissive laughed for a little while longer, before tucking his head under the blunette's chin, "Am I good enough for them?" He froze, "They aren't gonna test me, are they?! I mean it was one thing meeting them and stuff as your boyfriend and pet, but...am I good enough for her to be okay with me being yours forever?"

"I'mma big boy and I get to make my own big boy decisions like who I'm gonna marry," Grimmjow replied with a roll of his eyes. "And no, they're not gonna test you. Probably offer to scene with you just to see how you react, but not test you. Tease, yes. They are gonna tease the living hell out of us both."

"Teasing is definitely something I can handle. Have you met my dad?" Ichigo giggled, then froze again, the color draining from his face. "Oh god! They have to meet before the wedding...your mom...my dad...I'm not sure which would be worse, her pushing at him because he teased her, or him submitting to her." He gave a small shiver.

"But then my dad would get jealous and I have no idea who would top between my pops and yours," Grimmjow added and then shuddered, realizing what he'd just said. "...dear God. We may have to declare a Nilla Zone for that meeting or some shit. That is one fucking scary thought."

"And now you know where my buzz went." The veteran groaned, and yawned, snuggling himself closer. He reached over to the nightstand where a glass of water and two pain pills were waiting for him to actually take them. Doing so, he yawned again. "I don't wanna talk about family anymore right now. Unless we're talking about our family, you and me. Because I'm still not sure I fully believe that this isn't some dream I'm having in one of those comfy rooms with the pillows on the walls and the jackets that make you hug yourself."

The blunette reached behind his shoulder and flicked him. "Don't be ridiculous. You could never dream up anybody as crazy as I am, much less the rest of my insane family."

"Ow." Was said in a way that meant it didn't hurt at all, and the submissive scoffed, "Who knows, I'm pretty crazy after all. Certified by the government no less."

The grin sent his way was positively demonic. "Mhmmm. An' I love ya just the same."

"I love you too." He reached up and stole another kiss, "Happy birthday, Master."

Grimmjow made the kiss linger for several moments before parting. "Best fuckin' birthday ever, kitten."