Bleach fic
Title: The King Stands Alone
Author:vayshti Betas: imladra and ldybastet
Characters: GrimmjowxIlforte
WC: 3538
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: So not mine. So no money.
Warnings etc: Set after Ch213. Contains Master/Servant power-play, boy-smexing, forced fellating, hand-jobs, masturbation, bad language and foot-play.
Originally written for bleach_bdsm's anon kink. This version has more sparkles. Many thanks to my two betas!
The King Stands Alone
Trust…
Such a fucked up concept.
To trust someone meant laying yourself bare to them, and just hoping. Hoping that they wouldn’t flay your soul to shreds. And laugh.
Grimmjow had no fucking time for trust. Why bare your throat in the first place when there was the slightest chance that it could be torn out? Why would anyone deliberately choose such a weak position?
And yet it was a word said to him frequently. All of them, those ones who had bared their throats and begged him to eat them, they had looked at him in all seriousness, had said ‘I trust you’ one by one. They were all morons. He was not one to be trusted. They had seen him break the rules, fight “dirty”, and yet they still came to him with their heads bowed. It made no sense.
Why did they keep coming back to him when he was just as likely to shove a finger right up their arse, and completely screw them over, as he was to provide them strength? He’d never promised anything to them. And it was not like any of them could give him something that he couldn’t provide for himself. He would never order them to do things and trust that they succeed - he would never be that vulnerable.
It was Granz who was hovering around this time. Wanting something. Always wanting something.
Grimmjow padded inside his room, not bothering to shut the door. He knew that Granz would see the gesture as it was meant - that he was allowed to enter, even if he was not worthy of being acknowledged.
Ilforte stepped quietly to the cabinet, taking out the collar that he knew was there and fastening it around his neck. He did not need to be told to. Correctly anticipating was something he prided himself on. The collar in place, he knelt in front of Grimmjow, who had already settled into a wide armchair, his legs spread, but with one foot curled over the edge of the seat cushion. ‘I live to serve you, Grimmjow-sama.’
Grimmjow looked down at the prostrate character at his foot, noting the bent shoulders, the complete deference. He snorted. ‘Fuck knows why. I will repeat myself as I always do: you owe me nothing. You can walk away whenever you like.’
Ilforte raised his head and smiled. ‘There’s more pleasure because of that. This is a choice.’
‘Yeah, yeah - you’ve said that before, too.’ Grimmjow waved his hand, as if to dismiss Granz, but he knew that he would never disappear. The collar was on; he would be here until one of them chose to remove it.
Ilforte nodded slightly, the bob of a true servant, before returning his gaze to the ground underneath Grimmjow’s dangling foot. He was tempted to lean forward, to kiss it, but that would be presumptuous.
Grimmjow noticed Granz start. Grimmjow had no idea what thoughts must have crossed Granz’s mind to make him falter like that, but whatever it was, he had clearly thought better of it. Grimmjow chuckled to himself - despite Granz thinking he could school his expressions he was damned easy to read. Grimmjow reached out with his toe, lifting Granz’s chin until he had no choice but to look at him. Grimmjow held him there, kneeling, with his head tilted high, awkward even, and watched as Granz’s schooled mask of blankness gradually shifted. Not by choice - this was a battle of stamina, a game of power, with Granz losing. Not to Grimmjow, for all Grimmjow was going to do was sit here and outstare him, with one toe against his chin. No this was just a battle between Granz and his imagination. What would undo him was his fear of Grimmjow. And there it was; the wide eyes and dilated pupils, that trembling lip. Grimmjow blinked slowly, dragged his tongue meaningfully across his eyeteeth. ‘I like that face, Granz.’
He removed his foot, and Granz relaxed, tilted his head, making his face look even more like a girl’s. ‘I am honoured Grimmjow-sama.’ He pressed both hands together. ‘What can I do for you today, Grimmjow-sama? How can I show you my loyalty? Or have I made mistakes? Do I need to be… beaten?’
Grimmjow pushed Granz with his foot, watching Granz’s body slide on the floor away from him. ‘No.’ He watched a flicker of disappointment cross Granz’s visage. ‘No beating - I’m too tired.’ He sighed and scratched his head, tugged at the hair above his ears. ‘The meeting today…’ He stopped tugging his hair, and rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, slumped his chin against his hand. He realised it was almost the same pose that Aizen-sama had adopted in the meeting and sat up straight. ‘I don’t trust that Ulquiorra fucker one bit. I bet anything his oversight on those humans is going to come back and bite us on the arse.’
Granz nodded to show his support, but did not utter a word. He edged forward on his knees, took the dangling foot gently between both of his hands. ‘Let me remove all thoughts of Ulquiorra from you, Grimmjow-sama.’
Grimmjow grunted, but did not extract his foot. Granz pressed his knuckles into the arch; he knew not to touch lightly, that feathering was fine elsewhere, but never the bottom of Grimmjow’s feet. He pressed the ball of the foot, hard, dragging the muscles and bones apart until Grimmjow shifted in his chair, hugged his raised knee. Granz kneaded the flesh beneath his hands, fancied he could feel the velvet-fur of Grimmjow’s released form hovering just beneath the surface. He shivered, which led to Grimmjow cuffing him around the ear. ‘No beatings, and no restraints either - I’m expecting you to keep yourself in line today.’
He bowed his head in acquiescence. ‘Yes, Grimmjow-sama.’ He pulled on each of Grimmjow’s toes, enjoying the sharp pop of each joint as they released. He gently let the foot dangle once more before opening his hands, splaying his fingers, silently asking that Grimmjow offer him the foot that was still tightly gripping the piping that ran around the edge of the seat cushion. Grimmjow uncurled himself and thrust his leg out towards Granz. His mouth curled in disgust when he saw how happy that made him, but his mouth went slack as soon as Granz began to work his fingers and knuckles over this second foot. His eyes gently closed, lost as he was in the deft patterns that Granz’s fingers worked over his feet, and he didn’t bother to suppress the slow sigh of pleasure that worked its way out.
But then he felt something wet and warm surrounding his big toe. He opened his eyes to watch his digit being gradually sucked into Granz’s mouth, his eyes closed in pleasure. Fucking typical - Grimmjow had said to keep himself under control, so of course Granz collapsed like a cat in heat. Couldn’t be fucking trusted.
Grimmjow pressed his other foot into Granz’s chest, and pushed. ‘What did I say about keeping yourself in line?’ Granz looked both guilty and disappointed, like a child who’d had a stolen lollypop snatched away by a parent. ‘You can lick my fucking boots, but you do not suck my fucking toes,’ He looked at Granz in disgust; he was sprawled on the ground with his legs awkwardly spread, which just highlighted the fact that he had a hard-on underneath his hakama, ‘I do not want to see you getting off on my fucking toes, got it?’
Grimmjow watched Granz as he brought his emotions back under control, return to that blank mask, even if he could not remove the rosy stain that spread across his cheeks. Satisfied that Granz was pliant enough for the time being, he beckoned him forward by crooking his little finger.
Ilforte scrambled forward, unsure of what was going to happen next, but eager to comply regardless. Grimmjow grabbed Granz’s collar, pulled him in so that his chest was hard up against the wooden chair-front, so that he knelt between Grimmjow’s open legs. Grimmjow rested one foot on Granz’s shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his haori, using the fabric to wipe his toe. Granz remained unmoved, even when his creased haori was released.
Grimmjow ran his now dry toe up Granz’s neck, through that soft, girlie hair, dragging his toenail over his horned bonehelm to the tip. Then, in one swift motion he leant forward, pulled Granz’s kimono apart, exposing his hollow hole, and rested his toe just inside the lip. He knew Granz wouldn’t be able to stay silent for this, but that was okay - he didn’t want him to be. He watched Granz’s eyelids flutter, and felt his own cock twitch in response. He stroked his toe around that gentle curve, listening to Granz whimper involuntarily. He wondered why Granz’s hole was right where his heart would be, why he was the one who had his hole so close to where his ordinary soul chain would have been. What did that say about him?
What did his own hole say about himself?
He watched Granz’s head jerk backwards, eyes closed when Grimmjow jammed his foot into that hole, watched as Granz’s arms grew taught on each not-so-gentle prod, watched Granz’s knuckles turn white where he gripped the chair’s arms. But then just like that, the desire, the curiosity over Granz’s reactions to having his hollow-hole toe-fucked were sated. It might have been enough to get Grimmjow semi-aroused, but it did not hold any power to keep him that way. He extracted his foot, almost expecting it to come out slicked with sweat, but he’d not worked Granz long enough for that. Grimmjow pulled himself backwards, perched himself on his haunches, making sure that he touched nothing of Granz, and just watched.
He watched as Granz’s body moved of its own accord, expecting that Grimmjow was about to thrust that foot back in. He watched as those twitches of anticipation turned into jerks when he was met with denial, he watched as Granz softly bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan. It was those lips that made Grimmjow decide what was to come next, but he waited until Granz opened his eyes before he shoved his foot hard against the bulge in Granz’s hakama, drummed his toes against the warmth. ‘Have you ever been told that you have cock-sucker lips, Granz?’
A glint of surprise was quickly snuffed out. ‘This would be the first, Grimmjow-sama.’
Grimmjow sat back on his chair, letting his knees fall against the chair arms. ‘Well then.’ Granz remained still, frozen. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake - it ain’t gonna suck itself, is it?’
Granz tilted his head, shooting Grimmjow a look that he really shouldn’t, not while he was still in that collar. ‘We always promised you benefits, Grimmjow-sama...’
‘But? I know there’s a fucking “but,” and I know it’s not because you won’t suck me off. What is it?’ The colour rose in Granz’s face, and Grimmjow realised that it wasn’t just a matter of being willing to suck his cock, no, Granz the dirty fuck actually wanted to. ‘Yeah, and I bet you’d swallow too - unless I told you not to - swallow it, and then stick your tongue in to get the last drops.’ He drummed his toes against Granz’s twitching cock, just enough to keep Granz unbalanced. ‘I’m ordering you to tell me what the fuck is going through that piss-weak head of yours, Ilforte-chan.’
Granz had the decency to look uncomfortable, and would not meet Grimmjow’s stare. ‘I’m just surprised that’s all - I know that you’re not good…’ he took a deep breath, ‘that takes a lot of trust.’
Grimmjow sniffed. ‘Get fucked - you’re too fucking limp to dare try anything. And even if you did, I’d rip your head off and shit down your neck before your heart had time to forget how to pump. This has nothing to do with trust.’ The last word fell from his lips fully laden with the contempt he felt for it. He ripped one of Granz’s hands from its death grip on the chair, forcing it to shape around his cock through his clothes. He wiggled his hips. ‘So am I gonna get those lips around my meat, or are you going to grow some backbone and fuck off?’
Grimmjow almost missed the shake of Granz’s head; he was too preoccupied with the simultaneous slow squeeze that Granz gave his cock. Grimmjow smiled; it was the answer he’d expected. He watched Granz through slitted eyes, watching detachedly as Granz reached around him and began to delicately unpick the knots by his obi. His hair dragged against Grimmjow’s chest as he worked, painting invisible calligraphy over his skin. It was okay, but it wasn’t enough. ‘Keep fussing like that and I’ll be limp by the time you’re finished. Fucking just pull them off, will you?’
Ilforte raised his head, paused in his work while he assessed the look on Grimmjow’s face. He knew that face so well, knew the secret tics that gave away so much of what Grimmjow tried to keep hidden. Subtle study had given him so much skill in his ability to know instinctively the right actions to take at any given moment, but this look was new, as new as Grimmjow’s surprising request. Something wasn’t right; Grimmjow looked troubled. He was never unsettled, never as an Adjucha, and never as an Espada before now, but Ilforte would say nothing - he would just give him what he needed. Grimmjow looked like he wanted something to fight, rather than the slavish attention Ilforte had intended to give his cock - Ilforte could give him that instead. He would give him that instead.
He put his hands on either side of Grimmjow’s waist, grasping the fabric where it sat just over the sharp jut of his hipbones, and pulled - hard. The action pulled the hakama off, but also tipped Grimmjow forward, so that his groin was at the edge of the seat, and his legs restrained by Granz kneeling on the half-removed hakama. Grimmjow gripped the chair arms to prevent himself sliding to the floor. The sudden hit of cold air against his over-heated groin made him suck air in between his teeth, but he had no time to adjust to the coolness before Granz was breathing warm air over it, pushing it around with his nose as he nuzzled its root. Ilforte carded his hands through the wiry blue mess, using his nails to scratch the skin hidden beneath. He could feel Grimmjow’s hands travelling over his neck, snaking up through his own hair, and he smiled to himself.
Without warning he grabbed a fistful of Grimmjow’s pubes and pulled on them, holding on until his hand pulled free. ‘What the fuck?’ Grimmjow tried to sit up, but Granz held him carefully down with one hand. Denied, Grimmjow responded by twisting his hand against Granz’s scalp, grabbing a fistful of hair that pulled painfully away from his skin, pulling his head to one side. ‘What part of “control yourself” says you get to depilate me?’
Granz opened his hand, letting the blue wires he’d collected rain down on Grimmjow’s chest. He laughed, knowing that it would piss off Grimmjow, that it would make him mad enough to take control. He knew how to give Grimmjow what he needed, even when Grimmjow didn’t know what it was.
Grimmjow was not happy. ‘What did I say about shitting down your neck? Don’t fuck with me, Granz!’ He twisted those blond hairs into a rope, pulling Granz down until his head was firmly pressed up against his groin. ‘If you don’t give me a perfect head-job, I might fucking do it any way.’
Granz ran his tongue along Grimmjow’s length, but Grimmjow was no longer in the mood for a relaxed foreplay. He grabbed the root of his cock himself, forcing Granz’s head so he had no other choice but to open his mouth and take it all in one hit. He could feel Granz fighting against his gag reflex and was pleased. This was good enough to get Granz back for that weird stunt he’d pulled on his pubes. He forced himself up and down Granz’s throat, but never enough to actually unblock Granz’s airway. He felt Granz begin to struggle, begin to get worried that he was about to die, and the way Granz’s hand opened and closed, clutching at thin air just made him want to fuck his head even harder. ‘Why do you let me do this? Aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you? That I’ll just go that little bit too far, and that you won’t come back?’
He eased his grip on the back of Granz’s head, allowing him enough freedom to withdraw. Granz kept bobbing his neck but did not change the furious pace that Grimmjow set up, even when he had placed his hand in a position beneath his face to continue the rhythm. He sat back, breathing in heavily, but did not slacken the pace, using his fingers to finish each stroke with a squeeze that made Grimmjow’s toes curl. Granz wiped his wet lips with the back of his arm. ‘It’s no good if the threat isn’t real.’ He ran his tongue along the contour of Grimmjow’s hip before sinking his teeth around the jutting bone. ‘It’s no different from fighting - you know that, Grimmjow-sama.’
- Don’t let me forget this moment… Grimmjow blocked out the room around him, focussing, always focussing on the details of that last time, the details that got hazier even as he remembered them -
Grimmjow groaned, lost in the complex messages that his overworked nerves were sending him. Ilforte licked the blood that was pooling in two of the purple dents left by his teeth. ‘Do you like this Grimmjow-sama? Am I good enough that you’ll think back to what I’m doing now and want more?’
- I want to remember, now. I have to remember, now… -
‘Fuck off, Granz. Like you’d be my first choice.’ Grimmjow released Granz’s hair, fastening on the convenient handles of his bone helm instead, forcing him to take his twitching cock into his mouth once more. There was no fucking way he was going to shoot his load into the cold room when there was a perfectly good warm throat that would swallow for him present.
- Please Ilforte-kun. Just a little longer… Grimmjow gripped himself tighter, forcing up the pace, forcing himself to relive this single memory, echoing the memories of his body as well as his mind -
He could feel Granz deliberately swallowing, the ripples of clenching muscles setting dots of sweat dancing over his skin, and he could hear noises that had to belong to him even though he had not consciously given voice to them. He could hear the breath hitching in his chest, and willed Granz not to stop, he could do anything, just so long as he didn’t stop.
- Please let me end before this does… -
And then he was tilted against the back of the chair, his hips in the air, thrusting against Granz’s face who just kept swallowing like this would be the last time he would ever get to taste Grimmjow.
- I’m sorry. And Grimmjow bit the shoulder of his remaining arm, trying to replicate the hurt that Ilforte had left that day, trying not to cry out, wanting that pain because he deserved it, willing that his only hand could slip sideways through reality and he would no longer be mimicking fading memories, but actually be there. -
And then it was over.
- Over… -
Granz bared his neck, and Grimmjow’s hands slipped around his throat. He made as if to squeeze it before he gently stroked Granz’s skin, gently ran his hands around the collar. Then the collar was gone; the simple black band stretched wide between Grimmjow’s fingers.
- I always told them I was not to be trusted -
Granz stood up, his own untended erection still in full bloom, a patch of a darker shade of white on his hakama indicating that he had enjoyed himself nonetheless. Grimmjow thought of standing as well, or at least pulling his trouser back on, but he sprawled where Granz had left him, enjoying the feel of Granz’s saliva cooling and turning hard on his skin. Ilforte kissed his finger then pressed it against Grimmjow’s lips. ‘Same time next week, Grimmjow?’
Grimmjow had just enough energy to flip Granz the bird. ‘Fuck you, Granz. Fuck off and die.’
- So unfair... Grimmjow tumbled heavily against his sheets, the absence of his arm less painful than his empty bed. He lay there tangled in sheets he had used to mimic Ilforte’s weight on his hakama, skin slicked with sweat, his eyes screwed tight. He would not let his eyes betray him. They could not be trusted. -
Granz smiled and turned his back on Grimmjow.
Grimmjow watched as Granz walked away.
- Devouring, alone. The solitude of the king. -
Author:vayshti Betas: imladra and ldybastet
Characters: GrimmjowxIlforte
WC: 3538
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: So not mine. So no money.
Warnings etc: Set after Ch213. Contains Master/Servant power-play, boy-smexing, forced fellating, hand-jobs, masturbation, bad language and foot-play.
Originally written for bleach_bdsm's anon kink. This version has more sparkles. Many thanks to my two betas!
The King Stands Alone
Trust…
Such a fucked up concept.
To trust someone meant laying yourself bare to them, and just hoping. Hoping that they wouldn’t flay your soul to shreds. And laugh.
Grimmjow had no fucking time for trust. Why bare your throat in the first place when there was the slightest chance that it could be torn out? Why would anyone deliberately choose such a weak position?
And yet it was a word said to him frequently. All of them, those ones who had bared their throats and begged him to eat them, they had looked at him in all seriousness, had said ‘I trust you’ one by one. They were all morons. He was not one to be trusted. They had seen him break the rules, fight “dirty”, and yet they still came to him with their heads bowed. It made no sense.
Why did they keep coming back to him when he was just as likely to shove a finger right up their arse, and completely screw them over, as he was to provide them strength? He’d never promised anything to them. And it was not like any of them could give him something that he couldn’t provide for himself. He would never order them to do things and trust that they succeed - he would never be that vulnerable.
It was Granz who was hovering around this time. Wanting something. Always wanting something.
Grimmjow padded inside his room, not bothering to shut the door. He knew that Granz would see the gesture as it was meant - that he was allowed to enter, even if he was not worthy of being acknowledged.
Ilforte stepped quietly to the cabinet, taking out the collar that he knew was there and fastening it around his neck. He did not need to be told to. Correctly anticipating was something he prided himself on. The collar in place, he knelt in front of Grimmjow, who had already settled into a wide armchair, his legs spread, but with one foot curled over the edge of the seat cushion. ‘I live to serve you, Grimmjow-sama.’
Grimmjow looked down at the prostrate character at his foot, noting the bent shoulders, the complete deference. He snorted. ‘Fuck knows why. I will repeat myself as I always do: you owe me nothing. You can walk away whenever you like.’
Ilforte raised his head and smiled. ‘There’s more pleasure because of that. This is a choice.’
‘Yeah, yeah - you’ve said that before, too.’ Grimmjow waved his hand, as if to dismiss Granz, but he knew that he would never disappear. The collar was on; he would be here until one of them chose to remove it.
Ilforte nodded slightly, the bob of a true servant, before returning his gaze to the ground underneath Grimmjow’s dangling foot. He was tempted to lean forward, to kiss it, but that would be presumptuous.
Grimmjow noticed Granz start. Grimmjow had no idea what thoughts must have crossed Granz’s mind to make him falter like that, but whatever it was, he had clearly thought better of it. Grimmjow chuckled to himself - despite Granz thinking he could school his expressions he was damned easy to read. Grimmjow reached out with his toe, lifting Granz’s chin until he had no choice but to look at him. Grimmjow held him there, kneeling, with his head tilted high, awkward even, and watched as Granz’s schooled mask of blankness gradually shifted. Not by choice - this was a battle of stamina, a game of power, with Granz losing. Not to Grimmjow, for all Grimmjow was going to do was sit here and outstare him, with one toe against his chin. No this was just a battle between Granz and his imagination. What would undo him was his fear of Grimmjow. And there it was; the wide eyes and dilated pupils, that trembling lip. Grimmjow blinked slowly, dragged his tongue meaningfully across his eyeteeth. ‘I like that face, Granz.’
He removed his foot, and Granz relaxed, tilted his head, making his face look even more like a girl’s. ‘I am honoured Grimmjow-sama.’ He pressed both hands together. ‘What can I do for you today, Grimmjow-sama? How can I show you my loyalty? Or have I made mistakes? Do I need to be… beaten?’
Grimmjow pushed Granz with his foot, watching Granz’s body slide on the floor away from him. ‘No.’ He watched a flicker of disappointment cross Granz’s visage. ‘No beating - I’m too tired.’ He sighed and scratched his head, tugged at the hair above his ears. ‘The meeting today…’ He stopped tugging his hair, and rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, slumped his chin against his hand. He realised it was almost the same pose that Aizen-sama had adopted in the meeting and sat up straight. ‘I don’t trust that Ulquiorra fucker one bit. I bet anything his oversight on those humans is going to come back and bite us on the arse.’
Granz nodded to show his support, but did not utter a word. He edged forward on his knees, took the dangling foot gently between both of his hands. ‘Let me remove all thoughts of Ulquiorra from you, Grimmjow-sama.’
Grimmjow grunted, but did not extract his foot. Granz pressed his knuckles into the arch; he knew not to touch lightly, that feathering was fine elsewhere, but never the bottom of Grimmjow’s feet. He pressed the ball of the foot, hard, dragging the muscles and bones apart until Grimmjow shifted in his chair, hugged his raised knee. Granz kneaded the flesh beneath his hands, fancied he could feel the velvet-fur of Grimmjow’s released form hovering just beneath the surface. He shivered, which led to Grimmjow cuffing him around the ear. ‘No beatings, and no restraints either - I’m expecting you to keep yourself in line today.’
He bowed his head in acquiescence. ‘Yes, Grimmjow-sama.’ He pulled on each of Grimmjow’s toes, enjoying the sharp pop of each joint as they released. He gently let the foot dangle once more before opening his hands, splaying his fingers, silently asking that Grimmjow offer him the foot that was still tightly gripping the piping that ran around the edge of the seat cushion. Grimmjow uncurled himself and thrust his leg out towards Granz. His mouth curled in disgust when he saw how happy that made him, but his mouth went slack as soon as Granz began to work his fingers and knuckles over this second foot. His eyes gently closed, lost as he was in the deft patterns that Granz’s fingers worked over his feet, and he didn’t bother to suppress the slow sigh of pleasure that worked its way out.
But then he felt something wet and warm surrounding his big toe. He opened his eyes to watch his digit being gradually sucked into Granz’s mouth, his eyes closed in pleasure. Fucking typical - Grimmjow had said to keep himself under control, so of course Granz collapsed like a cat in heat. Couldn’t be fucking trusted.
Grimmjow pressed his other foot into Granz’s chest, and pushed. ‘What did I say about keeping yourself in line?’ Granz looked both guilty and disappointed, like a child who’d had a stolen lollypop snatched away by a parent. ‘You can lick my fucking boots, but you do not suck my fucking toes,’ He looked at Granz in disgust; he was sprawled on the ground with his legs awkwardly spread, which just highlighted the fact that he had a hard-on underneath his hakama, ‘I do not want to see you getting off on my fucking toes, got it?’
Grimmjow watched Granz as he brought his emotions back under control, return to that blank mask, even if he could not remove the rosy stain that spread across his cheeks. Satisfied that Granz was pliant enough for the time being, he beckoned him forward by crooking his little finger.
Ilforte scrambled forward, unsure of what was going to happen next, but eager to comply regardless. Grimmjow grabbed Granz’s collar, pulled him in so that his chest was hard up against the wooden chair-front, so that he knelt between Grimmjow’s open legs. Grimmjow rested one foot on Granz’s shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his haori, using the fabric to wipe his toe. Granz remained unmoved, even when his creased haori was released.
Grimmjow ran his now dry toe up Granz’s neck, through that soft, girlie hair, dragging his toenail over his horned bonehelm to the tip. Then, in one swift motion he leant forward, pulled Granz’s kimono apart, exposing his hollow hole, and rested his toe just inside the lip. He knew Granz wouldn’t be able to stay silent for this, but that was okay - he didn’t want him to be. He watched Granz’s eyelids flutter, and felt his own cock twitch in response. He stroked his toe around that gentle curve, listening to Granz whimper involuntarily. He wondered why Granz’s hole was right where his heart would be, why he was the one who had his hole so close to where his ordinary soul chain would have been. What did that say about him?
What did his own hole say about himself?
He watched Granz’s head jerk backwards, eyes closed when Grimmjow jammed his foot into that hole, watched as Granz’s arms grew taught on each not-so-gentle prod, watched Granz’s knuckles turn white where he gripped the chair’s arms. But then just like that, the desire, the curiosity over Granz’s reactions to having his hollow-hole toe-fucked were sated. It might have been enough to get Grimmjow semi-aroused, but it did not hold any power to keep him that way. He extracted his foot, almost expecting it to come out slicked with sweat, but he’d not worked Granz long enough for that. Grimmjow pulled himself backwards, perched himself on his haunches, making sure that he touched nothing of Granz, and just watched.
He watched as Granz’s body moved of its own accord, expecting that Grimmjow was about to thrust that foot back in. He watched as those twitches of anticipation turned into jerks when he was met with denial, he watched as Granz softly bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan. It was those lips that made Grimmjow decide what was to come next, but he waited until Granz opened his eyes before he shoved his foot hard against the bulge in Granz’s hakama, drummed his toes against the warmth. ‘Have you ever been told that you have cock-sucker lips, Granz?’
A glint of surprise was quickly snuffed out. ‘This would be the first, Grimmjow-sama.’
Grimmjow sat back on his chair, letting his knees fall against the chair arms. ‘Well then.’ Granz remained still, frozen. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake - it ain’t gonna suck itself, is it?’
Granz tilted his head, shooting Grimmjow a look that he really shouldn’t, not while he was still in that collar. ‘We always promised you benefits, Grimmjow-sama...’
‘But? I know there’s a fucking “but,” and I know it’s not because you won’t suck me off. What is it?’ The colour rose in Granz’s face, and Grimmjow realised that it wasn’t just a matter of being willing to suck his cock, no, Granz the dirty fuck actually wanted to. ‘Yeah, and I bet you’d swallow too - unless I told you not to - swallow it, and then stick your tongue in to get the last drops.’ He drummed his toes against Granz’s twitching cock, just enough to keep Granz unbalanced. ‘I’m ordering you to tell me what the fuck is going through that piss-weak head of yours, Ilforte-chan.’
Granz had the decency to look uncomfortable, and would not meet Grimmjow’s stare. ‘I’m just surprised that’s all - I know that you’re not good…’ he took a deep breath, ‘that takes a lot of trust.’
Grimmjow sniffed. ‘Get fucked - you’re too fucking limp to dare try anything. And even if you did, I’d rip your head off and shit down your neck before your heart had time to forget how to pump. This has nothing to do with trust.’ The last word fell from his lips fully laden with the contempt he felt for it. He ripped one of Granz’s hands from its death grip on the chair, forcing it to shape around his cock through his clothes. He wiggled his hips. ‘So am I gonna get those lips around my meat, or are you going to grow some backbone and fuck off?’
Grimmjow almost missed the shake of Granz’s head; he was too preoccupied with the simultaneous slow squeeze that Granz gave his cock. Grimmjow smiled; it was the answer he’d expected. He watched Granz through slitted eyes, watching detachedly as Granz reached around him and began to delicately unpick the knots by his obi. His hair dragged against Grimmjow’s chest as he worked, painting invisible calligraphy over his skin. It was okay, but it wasn’t enough. ‘Keep fussing like that and I’ll be limp by the time you’re finished. Fucking just pull them off, will you?’
Ilforte raised his head, paused in his work while he assessed the look on Grimmjow’s face. He knew that face so well, knew the secret tics that gave away so much of what Grimmjow tried to keep hidden. Subtle study had given him so much skill in his ability to know instinctively the right actions to take at any given moment, but this look was new, as new as Grimmjow’s surprising request. Something wasn’t right; Grimmjow looked troubled. He was never unsettled, never as an Adjucha, and never as an Espada before now, but Ilforte would say nothing - he would just give him what he needed. Grimmjow looked like he wanted something to fight, rather than the slavish attention Ilforte had intended to give his cock - Ilforte could give him that instead. He would give him that instead.
He put his hands on either side of Grimmjow’s waist, grasping the fabric where it sat just over the sharp jut of his hipbones, and pulled - hard. The action pulled the hakama off, but also tipped Grimmjow forward, so that his groin was at the edge of the seat, and his legs restrained by Granz kneeling on the half-removed hakama. Grimmjow gripped the chair arms to prevent himself sliding to the floor. The sudden hit of cold air against his over-heated groin made him suck air in between his teeth, but he had no time to adjust to the coolness before Granz was breathing warm air over it, pushing it around with his nose as he nuzzled its root. Ilforte carded his hands through the wiry blue mess, using his nails to scratch the skin hidden beneath. He could feel Grimmjow’s hands travelling over his neck, snaking up through his own hair, and he smiled to himself.
Without warning he grabbed a fistful of Grimmjow’s pubes and pulled on them, holding on until his hand pulled free. ‘What the fuck?’ Grimmjow tried to sit up, but Granz held him carefully down with one hand. Denied, Grimmjow responded by twisting his hand against Granz’s scalp, grabbing a fistful of hair that pulled painfully away from his skin, pulling his head to one side. ‘What part of “control yourself” says you get to depilate me?’
Granz opened his hand, letting the blue wires he’d collected rain down on Grimmjow’s chest. He laughed, knowing that it would piss off Grimmjow, that it would make him mad enough to take control. He knew how to give Grimmjow what he needed, even when Grimmjow didn’t know what it was.
Grimmjow was not happy. ‘What did I say about shitting down your neck? Don’t fuck with me, Granz!’ He twisted those blond hairs into a rope, pulling Granz down until his head was firmly pressed up against his groin. ‘If you don’t give me a perfect head-job, I might fucking do it any way.’
Granz ran his tongue along Grimmjow’s length, but Grimmjow was no longer in the mood for a relaxed foreplay. He grabbed the root of his cock himself, forcing Granz’s head so he had no other choice but to open his mouth and take it all in one hit. He could feel Granz fighting against his gag reflex and was pleased. This was good enough to get Granz back for that weird stunt he’d pulled on his pubes. He forced himself up and down Granz’s throat, but never enough to actually unblock Granz’s airway. He felt Granz begin to struggle, begin to get worried that he was about to die, and the way Granz’s hand opened and closed, clutching at thin air just made him want to fuck his head even harder. ‘Why do you let me do this? Aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you? That I’ll just go that little bit too far, and that you won’t come back?’
He eased his grip on the back of Granz’s head, allowing him enough freedom to withdraw. Granz kept bobbing his neck but did not change the furious pace that Grimmjow set up, even when he had placed his hand in a position beneath his face to continue the rhythm. He sat back, breathing in heavily, but did not slacken the pace, using his fingers to finish each stroke with a squeeze that made Grimmjow’s toes curl. Granz wiped his wet lips with the back of his arm. ‘It’s no good if the threat isn’t real.’ He ran his tongue along the contour of Grimmjow’s hip before sinking his teeth around the jutting bone. ‘It’s no different from fighting - you know that, Grimmjow-sama.’
- Don’t let me forget this moment… Grimmjow blocked out the room around him, focussing, always focussing on the details of that last time, the details that got hazier even as he remembered them -
Grimmjow groaned, lost in the complex messages that his overworked nerves were sending him. Ilforte licked the blood that was pooling in two of the purple dents left by his teeth. ‘Do you like this Grimmjow-sama? Am I good enough that you’ll think back to what I’m doing now and want more?’
- I want to remember, now. I have to remember, now… -
‘Fuck off, Granz. Like you’d be my first choice.’ Grimmjow released Granz’s hair, fastening on the convenient handles of his bone helm instead, forcing him to take his twitching cock into his mouth once more. There was no fucking way he was going to shoot his load into the cold room when there was a perfectly good warm throat that would swallow for him present.
- Please Ilforte-kun. Just a little longer… Grimmjow gripped himself tighter, forcing up the pace, forcing himself to relive this single memory, echoing the memories of his body as well as his mind -
He could feel Granz deliberately swallowing, the ripples of clenching muscles setting dots of sweat dancing over his skin, and he could hear noises that had to belong to him even though he had not consciously given voice to them. He could hear the breath hitching in his chest, and willed Granz not to stop, he could do anything, just so long as he didn’t stop.
- Please let me end before this does… -
And then he was tilted against the back of the chair, his hips in the air, thrusting against Granz’s face who just kept swallowing like this would be the last time he would ever get to taste Grimmjow.
- I’m sorry. And Grimmjow bit the shoulder of his remaining arm, trying to replicate the hurt that Ilforte had left that day, trying not to cry out, wanting that pain because he deserved it, willing that his only hand could slip sideways through reality and he would no longer be mimicking fading memories, but actually be there. -
And then it was over.
- Over… -
Granz bared his neck, and Grimmjow’s hands slipped around his throat. He made as if to squeeze it before he gently stroked Granz’s skin, gently ran his hands around the collar. Then the collar was gone; the simple black band stretched wide between Grimmjow’s fingers.
- I always told them I was not to be trusted -
Granz stood up, his own untended erection still in full bloom, a patch of a darker shade of white on his hakama indicating that he had enjoyed himself nonetheless. Grimmjow thought of standing as well, or at least pulling his trouser back on, but he sprawled where Granz had left him, enjoying the feel of Granz’s saliva cooling and turning hard on his skin. Ilforte kissed his finger then pressed it against Grimmjow’s lips. ‘Same time next week, Grimmjow?’
Grimmjow had just enough energy to flip Granz the bird. ‘Fuck you, Granz. Fuck off and die.’
- So unfair... Grimmjow tumbled heavily against his sheets, the absence of his arm less painful than his empty bed. He lay there tangled in sheets he had used to mimic Ilforte’s weight on his hakama, skin slicked with sweat, his eyes screwed tight. He would not let his eyes betray him. They could not be trusted. -
Granz smiled and turned his back on Grimmjow.
Grimmjow watched as Granz walked away.
- Devouring, alone. The solitude of the king. -