Ladies and Gentlemen- Chapter 23
Ladies and Gentlemen 23
I had a firm belief that relationships were never worth the trouble, but since fate likes to watch me suffer, it put him on the same train. Bleach fic, Hichi-Ichi, Yaoi
**Strong M Rating for this Chapter
**Bleach belongs to Kubo, I do not make a profit from it.
Blue's Blenophobia~ (Fear of Needles)
“This might be a little painful...”
“Just do i- ah!” While it wasn't my first put out shoulder, it didn't make the pain lessen in the least. Damn Grimmjow and his terror of needles. I swear, it's worse than taking a cat to the vet. A 6'3'', 200 pound, sissy cat.
“There, good as new! Well, that part of you at least.”
“Holy Hell Shiro!” I winced when I heard Ichigo's voice from the door. He didn't sound very happy and looking up proves my theory, he's pissed. And to think the only wounds he can possibly see from where he is are the ones on my face and arms. Shit.
“It's not as bad as it looks!” Says the hopefully innocent looking, black and blue albino. He sighs, shakes his head, and throws himself into the chair in the corner, motioning for Urahara to continue.
“Ah, Kurosaki-san you are just in time! Hmm, lets see here...Multiple bruises to the midsection, arms, a nasty one on the cheek, a black eye, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken rib. How did you say your injuries were sustained again Tensa-san?”
I hazard a small glance back at Ichigo to find him gawking, mouth dropped and all. Man am I in for it later.
“We got jumped.” I heard Ichigo snort in the background and Urahara gave me a disbelieving look before returning his attention to the clipboard in hand.
“Would you like to file a report with the police?” Police? Huh, I wonder what they would think if I told them I was assaulted by the Cookie Monster?
“Not necessary.”
“Yes, I imagine not. Well, luckily there is no permanent damage and if you follow the instructions I have written down, you should be good as new in no time. Now I will leave you in the very capable hands of Kurosaki-san.” He seemed a little too happy about that. Bastard.
As soon as the door closed giving us the privacy that for once I'd do anything to get out of, Ichigo spoke, “What happened between you and Grimmjow?” I expected anger, perhaps yelling, maybe even a guilt trip, not the calm tiredness his whole body seemed to project. His reaction throws me off and all of a sudden I go blank, forgetting all the reasons I was going to use to defend myself.
“How'd ya know?” Yeah, it's a stupid question, but for some reason those are the only words my brain would supply me with.
He quirks a brow, raises from his seat, and comes to stand in front of me, arms crossing over his chest. “Really Shiro?” The way he said it sounded rhetorical enough that I don't think I'll answer. And with his following sigh and reaching over to untie the hospital gown, I think I'll get away with it. Ah, lovely resignation.
“One, you are a horrible liar. Come on Shiro, you AND Grimmjow get jumped, together, and there have yet to be any random thugs admitted to intensive care? Really?”
Not much I can say to that, “And two?”
He smirks, “I ran into Ulquiorra in the hallway.” Fuck my life. Not sure I wanna know how that went.
“I was wondering how long it'd take for someone to rat on me.” So, that probably wasn't the best thing I could have said in this situation, but it's not like there is a handbook for this type of thing. Explaining to your boyfriend that you fought his ex of 5 years for the stubborn bastards own benefit...For Dummies? Yeah, not likely. Wait...Uluiorra...Ichigo...
“Oh God, is he dead? Yer too young ta go to prison Ichi!” Sadly, I'm only half joking. Maybe he's so calm now because he took all his rage out already?
“He's breathing. Still no personality, so I guess you could almost say nothing has changed.”
“Almost?”
“Well, he explained things from the 'simple minded' perspective, and in much more complicated, wordy phrasing said he was touched with your devotion. Oh and he quote 'Gracefully withdraws for now,' whatever the fuck 'for now' means.”
“Well, that's refreshing I guess...for now.” Would forever have been too much to ask? Screw you fate. You and that green eyed, emo, pain in my ass. Who I should apparently be feeling gratitude toward now...I wonder if that was his goal? Next to Daddy Dearest, he is the prince of ulterior motives and egotism. I swear, Aizen's upcoming Bio should be titled Master of Manipulation: I'm the Best Thing This Universe Has Ever Seen.
Ichigo's voice brought me back from that unpleasant train of thought, “Shiro, you never answered my question.”
Right, that. I fidgeted with the untied strings of the hospital gown, Ichigo pausing in his efforts to remove it in favor of focusing his attention on my eventual answer. “I don't suppose you mean what happened between us in the physical sense?” I'd really rather not get into the other.
“No, that's pretty obvious. You look like a freaking Dalmatian, and I can only imagine Grimmjow's injuries if you were able to get him through the door.”
I snorted, “He's more capable than you think. Let's put it this way, I didn't receive the dislocated shoulder in the fight.”
“No? So just the broken rib, busted up face, and giant bruises came from the fight? Well then I guess it's not so bad.” Dropping the sarcasm he adds, “Look, your injuries make it obvious that this fight was not the same as the rest, and I just want to know why. What happened between you two to make this one so bad?”
Ah, the question that's been rolling around in my head since I got the text, 'what made him break?' I worked with him the night before and he was fine. Then...
“I think it had somethin' ta do with him finding you in the condition you were in the other day. Seeing someone you care about like that, and not being able to do anything is upsetting enough. And you know how he gets when we have any form of physical contact in front of him. Only this time he made himself stand back because he was afraid of making things worse. I think that worry, helplessness, and frustration pushed him to his limit...He wanted me to prove that I would take care of you so he could move on.”
His brow furrowed and I caught the onset of that oh so familiar scowl, “I can take care of myself.”
I laughed a little at the predictable response, “I know that Ichi, it's one of the things I love about ya. But Grimm thinks a little differently than we do. How many years has he tried to convince ya that you needed him?”
“Too many. He's a pretty wishful thinker, stubborn and willful to top it off. Did he actually say that he was moving on?” He still seemed skeptical. I guess after nearly 6 years of pursuit, and nearly 2 of those years in denial that Ichi and I are together, I'd find it hard to believe Grimmjow would finally accept it and move on too. But we both know that he is a man of his word so...
“Technically he said that he'd leave you to me, then threatened my well-being should I ever hurt you.”
He smiled and moved to finish taking off the gown, “Sounds about right then. We should celebrate. Hey how did you get Grimmjow into the hospital anywa- Holy Hell Shiro!” With the garment removed, he finally got a full view of the bruising.
“It's not as bad as it looks!” Back to square one.
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“Leave me alone God Dammit!” I knew I should have run when I had the chance.
“Sir please calm do-”
“I am calm! Wanna see me not calm?” You're about to bitch.
“Grimmjow, be silent and let the doctor do her job. It would be preferable if I could avoid bothering our father with this foolishness.” Fuck.
“That will only work so many times asshole.” That's how I was forced into this blood sucking environment with uniformed needle wielding bastards to begin with. I really don't want to explain to my father that I initiated a fight with Shiro...Over a guy.
Even after all these years of knowing, he still doesn't accept the fact that his sons are gay. The only reason we haven't joined him in his business is because he is waiting for one of us to come to our senses over the matter. It is also why we currently carry each of our mothers' last names. Can't disgrace the Aizen name that way. He has faith in Ulquiorra though, since at one point my brother actually tried to go straight to please our father. Too bad it didn't work. His infatuation with the Snowflake is really fuckin' weird.
“Well, one of these times I might get irritated enough to go through with that threat.” And that is why my ass is still in this room, which for some reason feels like it's getting smaller. Stop getting smaller dammit!
When the broad is finally done poking at my wounds, she announces that we gotta wait for the X-Rays, and also mentions that they would like to keep me overnight because of the concussion. Fan-fucking-tastic!
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I would be lying if I said that I didn't receive some small amount of satisfaction watching my idiot brother squirm on the examining table. A thin, middle aged, slip of a woman being the current source of his torment. With as comfortable as she appears with surgery, the fake looking facial features and silicone implanted breasts nearly falling out of her blouse, I might be slightly uncomfortable in his position as well. However, since I am merely an observer, I would be inclined to enjoy the show. Unfortunately, the amusement does not outweigh the irritation of his large, repulsive mouth.
When his knuckles turn white on the table, eyes wildly skimming the room for a chance to escape while simultaneously telling the doctor that he's calm, I consider the timing right to intervene.
“Grimmjow, be silent and let the doctor do her job. It would be preferable if I could avoid bothering our father with this foolishness.”
“That will only work so many times asshole.” His comment signifies doubt in the sincerity of my threat, which I will admit is warranted. I would never call our highly respectable father for something this utterly ridiculous, but Grimmjow has no need of that information.
“Well, one of these times I might get irritated enough to go through with that threat.” He appears to shrink back, apparently not willing to pursue that line of conversation further, which suits me just fine. I would much rather observe him and his new found distraction. He seems adamant about willing the walls to explode, the glare occasionally reverting back to skeptical stares. What in God's name is going through that idiot's head now?
When the woman announced that they wished to keep him overnight, I began to doubt the likelihood that I would be able to deliver Shirosaki-sama's* letter tonight. Leaving him alone would undoubtedly be disastrous. Grimmjow growls and is about to open his mouth again when the sound of knocking fills the room. If there is a God, he is apparently sick of hearing Grimmjow as well.
“Yo! Heard there was a circus in this room.” The voice is all too familiar and I find myself torn between hopefulness that he will stay long enough for me to deliver his letter, and fear that I will have to witness he and Grimmjow converse. A headache worthy plight 99% of the time.
“I'm sorry sir, but are you family of Mr. Jager-” The doctor was cut off by another familiar voice, the origin coming from behind Shirosaki-sama...
“It's alright, he's with me.” Kurosaki stepped around the mentioned antagonist while Grimmjow ungraciously snorted at the word choice. Glancing at my brother, raising one orange brow he continued, “And we've both known the patient for years.”
The woman did little to hide her relief that someone from the staff actually knew her difficult, uncouth charge “Ah Kurosaki-san, I'm glad you're here! I was just about head over to radiology and check the status of the film. Then we can make arrangements for an overnight stay.”
“Oi! I never consented to that!” She looked beyond hopeful that Kurosaki would be able to handle him. He nodded to her and apparently that was good enough, because not even a full second later she was out the door. I sit back and watch the orange headed male turn on my brother folding his arms across his chest. Perhaps I may become as equally lucky as the doctor.
“Quit giving the staff such a hard time asshole. You sent one of the aid's home in tears.”
“If they'd just let me leave, we'd get along just fine.”
“You have a concussion and they still need to analyze your X-Rays. There won't be a need for needles so just chill until morning.”
Shirosaki-sama walked up behind Kurosaki, linking his arms around the boy's middle, setting his chin on the left shoulder. The display is...Unsettling. “Yeah, no need to be scared Cookie.”
I have a feeling that if Grimmjow had fur, it would be standing on end. “I'm not afraid of needles! I just really hate them. There is only one thing I fear and my bastard brother keeps using it against me.” I catch myself tightening my grip on the armrest of the chair, and it has nothing to do with the bastard comment. Why is he touching him like that?
“Daddy Dearest?”
“Shut-up Snowflake! Bastard. And quit touching him!” I concur.
“Huh? But you said-”
“I know what I said, but that doesn't mean I wanna see it!” And for once in our lives, it appears that my foolish brother and I are actually in agreement on something.
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Alright, I'll admit that this isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. At least the bastards have cable. I flipped through the channels, trying to ignore Shirosaki's foot bouncing erratically on the tiled flooring. Ichigo apparently immune to the noise sat quietly next to him, both occupying the small couch in the room, his head in some book. Since all of the conversations we had started somehow circled back to my 'hatred' of hospitals, I abandoned socializing for the glorious, non-judgmental TV. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the Snowflake recline his head on the back of the couch, eyes closed, and throw his arm around Ichigo.
I know that I gave my word to not interfere anymore, but fuck if it isn't one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. In favor of keeping myself sane, I focus my eyes back to the TV, remembering how the three of us ended up in this room together, despite my protests that I didn't need a babysitter.
After Ichigo and the Snowflake made their entrance, I was moved to an overnight room. I've been corrected twice by the way, but I refuse to say 'extended stay' because I don't consider one night extended, and I'll be damned if they try to make me stay longer.
My bastard brother left right after, saying something about dropping off a letter Shirosaki wrote to our boss. At least now I know we won't get fired. The Strawberry and Snowflake said they'd stay until he got back, all three worried that I'd try to make a break for it. I swear that I'm being better guarded than a death row inmate.
“Jesus, would you just pick a fuckin' channel already.” Oh yeah, the TV.
“No, I'd rather watch you suffer. Call it retribution for that twitch in yer fuckin' leg.” I hadn't purposely been rapidly flipping through the channels before, but I have no intention of stopping now.
His response was cut off by the doctor walking back into the room, that annoying fake smile plastered on her obvious surgically altered face. “Ready for the damage report?”
Yeah, fuckin' hilarious, “Whatever.”
The irritation in my voice did little to curb her fake happiness, “Alright, starting from the top you have a concussion, two black eyes, a broken nose, two broken ribs, various bruising on the midsection, and a partially torn MCL.”
Ichigo nearly drops his book and I catch the mouth opening, “Holy Hell Grimm-”
“Shut-up Strawberry!” Turning my attention back to the doctor, “What the fuck is the last thing you said?”
She looked all too pleased to answer, “The ligament on the inner side of the knee is called the medial collateral ligament or MCL. Fortunately the tear was incomplete, but it will require a couple weeks on crutches.”
“But I won't have to stay past tomorrow morning right?” I don't give a fuck about crutches woman, I just wanna get the hell out of this damned place. Ichigo snorted and returned his attention to his book, Shiro smirked, knowing full well where my priorities lay.
“Yes, we can still release you in the morning. But you will need to take it easy and give your injuries plenty of time to heal.”
Before I get the chance to tell her I'll do whatever I damn well please, Ulquiorra makes his arrival known, “It will be taken care of.” I didn't even hear him come in, sneaky bastard.
The doctor seems pleased enough and leaves the room, saying that a nurse would be in to take my food order. Oh joy.
“So Spunky, how'd the boss man take the news?”
“He does not appear to be the type to worry over such things. Your letter must have had sufficient information as well, for he did not seem inclined to question me over relevant things.” Huh?
Shiro snorted, “How many drinks did he offer you?” He actually got something out of that?
“The same drink, four times. He also seemed incomprehensibly interested in Grimmjow's favorite flower.”
“Huh? Why would he...” I was cut off by the Shirosaki's howling laughter, and it finally clicked.
“Oh Fuck No!”
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“Oh Fuck Yes!” The intense pleasure dulls the light throbbing I still feel in my cheek and the sharp pain that accompanies my heavy breathing. My Strawberry having abandoned the investigation of my wounds to contend with the swelling in my cock.
So this day has gone from being officially one of the worst, to undeniably one of the best. Pulling on the cuffs encasing my wrists, each bound to a different bedpost, I shudder as Ichigo's tongue swirls around the head of my leaking member. My fingers are itching to tighten in his soft orange spikes and I groan, part from not being able to fulfill that wish, and part from the sudden descent his mouth makes down my shaft. My eyes roll back as he puts pressure on the underside with his tongue while rising, teeth lightly scraping over the top. He reaches the head again, suctioning to it and holding my hips down, which suddenly wish to act of their own accord. Feeling the familiar urge to roll us both over and begin making him squirm, I try to refocus my gaze on the top of his orange head.
“Ichigo...”
“Hmm.” His mouth is currently full and the vibration that sound caused forces another groan from me. He raises again, keeping the tip in his mouth but locking those darkened brown eyes on mine. In that brief moment, I am tempted to let him finish the job.
“Remove the cuffs love.” He smirks, releasing my oversensitive dick and slowly making his way back up my body, giving light kisses to each of my bruises in his path. Finally reaching my mouth, he delivers a mind blowing kiss, tongue tangling with my own before he pulls back, still smirking, “No.”
I raise an eyebrow, “No?”
He pulls away, reaching into my bedside drawer and returning with the lube, “No. You need to take it easy, meaning every time we have sex until you are healed, you will be in cuffs.”
“But Ichi, that'll take weeks!” It's not whining, I swear!
He seems unconcerned with my desperation, “Well, that should give you something to think about should the situation ever arise again.”
I'm about to protest again when he turns around, giving me full view of his firm ass and tight hole while reaching back to prepare himself. Jesus Christ Almighty.
His index finger circles the hole once, dipping in to about the knuckle before inserting the second and thrusting both lubed digits in all the way. His moan makes me feel torn from wanting to continue watching those deliciously twisting fingers, and demanding that he turn around so I can see the faces that are accompanying those movements.
Inserting the third finger, his whole body visibly tenses in the way that tells me he finally struck his prostate, tired of teasing himself. He pauses in order to regain control of his motor functions and my erection throbs with the need to keep him an uncontrolled mess. I hear the chains to the cuffs jerk and realize that my hands apparently feel the same way my cock does. I swear, I will never get wounded again.
The fingers finally start moving again, and he begins thrusting backwards to meet them. I want, no, I need to touch him now!
“Ichigo...” My voice is so dark and husky that I almost don't even recognize it, “Release me now.”
He shudders and freezes in his movements before slowly removing his fingers from the confined space, and turning to meet my gaze. Crawling over me once more, it looks as though I will get my wish when his face pauses in front of mine.
By the time I realize that he is reaching down instead of up, his hand grips my neglected shaft and I hiss. The pleasure is so intense that I had almost forgotten the demand when he answered, “No” and thrust backward, impaling himself on my length.
“Ah, fuck Ichigo!” Before I can even remember how to breath, he is moving. Slow shallow thrusts quickly escalating in depth and speed as he loses his control. With my wrists still bound, the only thing I can to is meet his thrusts. The resolution to not have my control completely stripped grows, and I bend my knees, planting my feet firmly on the bed to achieve more force behind each thrust. Ichigo's increased yells of pleasure and the occasional slip of my name tell me that my efforts are not wasted.
My erection and thankfully, my body, are able to hold out for a good while longer, our panting moans, grunts, and yells permeating the otherwise silent room. But when Ichigo reached down and began pumping his leaking member, eyes rolling back and body tensing, I went on sensory overload. His tight velvet heat twitched erratically with his release, warm seed spilling over his hand and leaking onto my own heated body. The myriad sensations pushed me over the edge as well, vision going white, darkening in random spots and patterns through the duration of my high.
When my mental state finally took inventory of my physical body, the first feeling was the relaxing bliss one feels directly following a mind blowing orgasm. The second made itself known when the endorphins began wearing off...OW! Ichigo was thankfully distracted enough removing the handcuffs to not catch the winces of pain following my every movement. He absolutely can NOT know what that did to me...Imagine the horror. Forget talking him out of binding my wrists, he'd bind my legs too, or worse, NO SEX!
I carefully schooled my features and managed to inconspicuously check my middle in the bathroom as we cleaned up. Popping a few more painkillers, I crawl back into bed with my spent Strawberry, for once thankful that he has to work early. It'd be a dead give away if I had to turn down round two.
A/N:
*Ulquiorra's use of 'sama' after Shiro's name seems appropriate for his inner monologue. While he would never lower himself to the point of saying the 'sama' additive out loud, he has been...'highly attracted' to Shiro since they were younger (throughout the story I have tried to hint at the 'Hero Complex' since Shiro had kind of taken him under his wing when they were younger- Just ask if you want further explanation on this). In order for someone like Ulquiorra to feel that level of attraction for anyone, it would have to accompany a great deal of respect for that person. Hence, Shirosaki-sama.