I had a gloriously free Sunday afternoon, and guess what, of course my muse doesn't want to cooperate. So instead of an update to The Stranger, I present to you, a new GrimmIchi that popped into my head from out of nowhere.
The moment I lay my eyes on him, I know I have to have that sweet, firm ass of his. It would be a tragedy not to. He's practically flaunting it, walking all over the set like that in a pair of form-fitting, curve-hugging dark-wash jeans that screams "come grope me!" in big bold letters.
Oh, I will, I will.
I peer over the top of my designer shades to watch him as he bends over to talk to one of the extras. His hair, already a vibrant, burnt-orange shade, gleams in the sunlight as they fall over his forehead. I take in his lithe, muscular frame; the sharp planes of his body clearly visible through the thin material of the standard-issue t-shirt given out to all production employees. A shudder of excitement courses through my veins at the thought of slipping my hands beneath that shirt.
He looks up suddenly, as if he can somehow sense my gaze. Maybe he does. It's not like I'm being very subtle. I stare right back at him and grin shamelessly.
A scowl overcomes his handsome features, and he tears his eyes away. I smirk. He thinks he's above me, the little prick, but the blush on his cheeks doesn't escape me. There's no way he can resist me.
After all, I am Grimmjow fucking Jaegerjaques, the highest-paid actor in whole of North America.
I can count with one finger the number of people who has escaped my charm, and that's only because I changed my mind half way. The poor bastard had been devastated. I remember having a good laugh when I saw his photo all over the tabloids the next day. I guess it's a bad idea to party topless when you're part of the British royal family.
This kid is as good as mine now, he just doesn't know it yet. I wonder what his name is and what department he's working for. He's still chatting with the extra, his arms gesturing in the air animatedly. The hem of his t-shirt rides up and I catch a glimpse of his boxers peeking out of his low-riding jeans. Navy blue waistband with a checkered pattern, not bad. I'm going to enjoy ripping that off of him.
His head snaps up again. This time, he downright glares at me. I wave to him.
"Jaegerjaques! You're up next!"
The assistant to the assistant to the Assistant Director wipes his brows as he reads the script again. I roll my eyes. I know the whole thing by heart now. The next scene is when I reveal my identity as a double agent to the female protagonist, who will, of course, fall for me and then we'll have sex on the roof while buildings explode all around us.
Right on cue, the door of the trailer next to mine swings open, and a tall, ridiculously curvy woman waltzs down the steps. Her long sea-green hair bounces off her back as she saunters up to me with a cheeky expression on her face.
Nelliel tu Odelschwanck: the only woman in the world I would never hit on.
"You ready, Grimmy?" she asks loudly.
I growl and flex my fingers. "Stop calling me that!" I hiss in a hushed voice, eyes darting over to the orange-haired kid.
The boy has an eyebrow raised in a look of amusement.
Damn that woman!
"Come on, time to go, Grimmy." Nelliel pats my shoulder affectionately before walking off towards the set.
I bare my teeth and damn near snarled, but I'm a professional and I don't want to look all pissy over something so stupid. So I pull myself together and let a lecherous grin lift the corners of my mouth as I stroll after her.
The confession scene is easy. I have my hair styled to messy perfection and my clothes ripped in all the right places, flashing the horny female audience just enough skin to make them go wild.
Then comes the moment that everyone's waiting for.
"This could be our last moment alive," I say huskily, my lips barely an inch away from Nelliel's. The line is easily the corniest shit I've ever heard.
"Hmm..." Nelliel looks at me under a thick fan of fake eyelashes, then she leans in and kisses me.
I let my eyes slide close and part my lips for her, my fingers disappearing into her hair as I pull her closer. Her tongue is hot and wet and silky, and if I were into her at all, I would've sprouted a hard-on right then and there.
I flick my eyes up for a split second to survey the onlookers. Everyone on the site has gathered around, and every pair of eyes is glued to us. I see envy, jealousy, and lust. That last one is coming from our pervert of a director. The blonde stares at us openly, his fist clutching at his pant leg like he's itching to join us.
The scary part is, I know that he really is itching to join us. He's a creep, that one. I'll never understand why anyone would get turned on by the sight of another man sucking face with his wife, but I know for a fact that Urahara Kisuke is one of them. I, personally, do not fancy the idea of sharing what's mine.
And that's why I'd rather stay far, far away from Nelliel. The last thing I want is being roped into a threesome with this oddball couple - or more specifically, Urahara. I don't want to find out first-hand what other kinks he has.
Just that thought alone makes me shudder, so I quickly turn my attention back to the task at hand. For the audience's benefit, I let out a rumbling groan from my throat as if I'm really enjoying this shit. Nelliel moans softly into my mouth, and I hear her breath become just a tad heavier.
And then I feel it - a heavy, burning weight on my head that makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Someone's watching me very, very intently.
I cup Nelliel's cheek and shift my body slightly to steal a glance.
It's that boy with the orange hair. His face is so flushed that I'm surprised that nobody has commented on it yet. If it weren't for his dark, half-lidded eyes, I would've thought that he is furious; but I recognize arousal when I see it. It's practically radiating from every pore on his body, like he's about to spring any moment and devour me whole.
Yeah, that's the spirit.
I give Nelliel's lips one last nip before pushing her down onto the ground, and then...
"Cut! Good one!"
I roll off of Nelliel immediately and pull her onto her feet. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and runs off to Urahara. I watch her pluck the man's bucket hat from his head, then the two of them head towards her trailer hand-in-hand - but not before Urahara gives me a wink over his shoulder.
As the crew starts to disperse to prepare for the next scene, I search the set for the kid, only to realize that he's gone. Disappointed, I flag down one of the production assistants.
"Ah, you must be referring to Kurosaki Ichigo," the young man says, eyes lighting up with recognition as soon as I mention the word "orange".
That can't possibly be his real name. So maybe he's a newbie, someone fresh to the scene using a stage name, probably here for a small supporting role in the movie. Interesting. I'll have to ask Urahara about him. In the meantime, I really need to take a dump, so I make my way to the restroom that's right next to the studio. It's very clean and actually smells nice, because everyone who works with me knows my pet peeve. You can't get Grimmjow Jaegerjaques on your cast otherwise. Absently contemplating how I'm going to make my first move on Kurosaki, I enter the first stall.
It's only after I've gotten the toilet seat cover nicely arranged that I realize that I'm not alone.
I can't help but raise my eyebrows. What the fuck, someone's actually rubbing one out here? In my restroom? I open my mouth to call them out, but then another long, drawn out moan shuts me up. My dick twitches involuntarily. Shit, this guy sounds like a fucking porn star. Now I'm curious and I just have to see for myself who this is.
Being as quiet and careful as I can be, I close the lid to the toilet seat and climb onto it. With my six foot one height, I have no problem peering over the wall that separates my stall from the one next to mine, where the sounds are coming from. This guy must be really lost in his fantasy to not notice that he's no longer alone.
I nearly fall off the toilet when I find myself staring at an eyeful of orange.
Kurosaki's standing with his legs slightly spread in front of the toilet bowl, one of his arms extended to brace himself against the wall. His other hand is busy between his legs. I have a perfect view of his rigid, weeping length grasped tightly in his fist. I watch, completely transfixed, as he strokes himself almost frantically, his breath coming out in harsh, rapid pants interlaced between barely-stifled groans.
I can't even begin to describe how hard it is to stand there in silence. My dick awakens and strains painfully against my zipper. Biting my lip, I reach down to palm myself, careful to maintain a grip on the wall for support, all the while keeping my eyes glued on Kurosaki. His head is bowed, so I can't see his face, but I can picture his features contorted in pleasure. His moans are beginning to take on a more urgent edge, getting louder and more needy. He thrusts his hips, his movements becoming erratic as he fucks his own hand again and again.
I'm almost trembling now, yet I know that once I start to touch myself I'd give myself away. I'm a very vocal person. I can only rub circles over my erection to soothe the ache a little.
I swear this is the most difficult moment of my life.
Eyes wide and greedy, I swallow around the lump in my throat. The end is near, I can tell. He's whimpering, sounding almost like he's sobbing. I've never heard anything so erotic before. I imagine him making those sounds as I pound into him, stabbing his sensitive spot over and over until he reaches his peak screaming my name.
Ah, shit, there it is. Right as I picture myself burying my cock to the hilt inside of him, he lets out a strangled cry and thrust one last time into his fist. His seed splatters into the toilet bowl, some of it hitting the side. The stupid part of my mind scolds him for soiling my precious restroom, but the logical part explodes like I just had an actual orgasm myself.
This is hotter than all the porn I've ever seen in my lifetime combined. I allow myself another ten seconds to watch him pant raggedly, then I slowly lower myself into a crouch. I can't step down from my perch yet, because then he'd notice my legs and realize that he had an audience.
So I wait. I hear the sound of toilet paper being torn, and I hear him wipe down the toilet before he finally steps out to wash his hands. And then the door creaks, and his footsteps fade away. I jump off the toilet seat cover on shaky legs and immediately pull my pants down to free my aching cock. It doesn't take long before I'm grunting my release, thanks to his Oscar-worthy performance.
As I scrub my hands clean at the sink, I can't help but grin at my own reflection in the mirror. You know what's the best part about this? It's the fact that I know that I'm the one who sent him here. Hell yeah, he can scowl and glare at me all he wants, but he can't fool me.
His ass is mine.
To be continued...
This was initially supposed to be a oneshot, but half way through, ideas just wouldn't stop flooding my head. I don't know how long this is going to be. My gut feeling is, not very long, maybe a little shorter than Shower. We'll see. :)