silverfoxflower

Title: The Care and Keeping of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez
Author: silverfoxflower
Fandom: Bleach
Genre: Slash, PWP, AU
Word Count: ~3200
Pairing: Ichigo/Grimmjow
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, powerplay and D/s themes
Notes: Fills the Wildcard square (Animal Play) of my kink_bingo . See my card here.
Summary: Ichigo becomes the not-so-reluctant owner of Grimmjow, an expensive, high-maintenance Espada who tests his dominance at every turn.
Disclaimer: No money was making during the production of this porn. I do not own these frisky boys.

“Really,” Ichigo sighed. “I’m not on the market for a pet.”

“He’s a beautiful creature. Cheap, too.” Urahara, chuckled. “A bit unruly, I admit, but nothing a boy like you can’t handle. I keep him in the back. Come, just take a look.”

Rukia, browsing cages along the far wall, was no help whatsoever. Ichigo slid his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants, already regretting being such a good friend. Still, this was a better way to kill time than tapping fish tanks. “Fine,” Ichigo shrugged, “Lead the way.” He caught Rukia’s glance with a wave of his hand and pointed in the direction he would go. She flashed an all-okay sign.

“Wonderful!” Urahara slid off of the counter and headed to the back of the store. At his nod, the two kids who had been cleaning bird cages went to take over the register. “Everyone should own a pet,” Urahara murmured to Ichigo as they walked, “Truly changes your life. My lovely Yoruichi is simply a pleasure to own.”

“He feeds me and begs to pet my fur. I let him play with me when he’s been good,” A lithe, dark-skinned woman purred from the top of a high shelf. Every movement, from the shift of her breathing, to her limbs moving under her black, skintight clothes as she climbed down, was sensuous. “Tell me, now, who owns who?” Yoruichi’s feet touched the ground and she weaved around Urahara on her way out the door, sparing a brief, mischievous, glance in Ichigo’s direction.

“Keeps me on my toes, she does,” Urahara breathed, as they both watched her leave. “Ah,” He turned, walking forward a few steps. “There it is, the back enclosure.” With a flash and jingle of his keys, Urahara unlocked the metal door and pushed it open.

Ichigo did not know what he had expected as he walked through the entrance. Perhaps a storage room, filled with cages. The sight of large windows and overspilling greenery made his mouth open in shock. Urahara laughed at his expression.

“He’s there. Grimmjow.”

Ichigo looked where Urahara indicated, cocking his head to see a blue-haired man stalk out from the shade of a tree. He was large, but lean, moving in a prowl as the fabric of his loose white robes shifted and clung to his frame. The strange, dark markings around his eyes only made their color more vivid against his sharp cheekbones. As he came closer, Ichigo realized that Grimmjow wore a thick, black collar around his throat. For a creature that seemed so free, the mark of possession was clumsy and jarring.

However, Ichigo had reason to thank God Grimmjow was collared when the werecat reached the end of his chain and snarled, his face twisted into an expression of utter distain. Ichigo had no doubt that if Grimmjow wasn’t so restrained, he might have ripped both of their throats out.

“An unusual specimen,” Urahara murmured behind his fan. “An Espada, one of the last in the world.”

“Oh. He has to be worth …” far more than I can afford, Ichigo swallowed his next words, confused at the disappointment sinking in his stomach. His eyes followed Grimmjow as he paced the room, savage, majestic, beautiful.

“He is. For more than you can afford.” Urahara stepped forward, and Grimmjow watched him with an annoyed gaze. “In fact, I already have a very persistent bidder by the name of Aizen-“

“Of Aizen Corporation?” Ichigo’s eyebrows rose. “The billionare?”

“Don’t much like the man,” Urahara sighed, his voice dripping with distaste. “His pets generally do not meet good ends.”

“I can hear ya, ya know.” It was the first time Ichigo had ever heard Grimmjow’s voice, and the gravely timbre sent a jolt up his spine.

“Yes?” Urahara asked politely, looking at Grimmjow. “And do you have an opinion?”

“Sell me to that freak and I’ll kill ya.”

For a moment, Ichigo thought Grimmjow was referring to him and was about to protest the assault to his character.

“Aizen.” Grimmjow’s eyes flashed a shockingly bright blue, like lighting in the night. “Smells like death, and not the good kind’ve hot blood n’ sweat. He smells like a knife in the back.”

If anything, Urahara’s smile became even wider. “What about this boy?” Ichigo jumped when Urahara gestured towards him. He only became more nervous when Grimmjow actually came forward to inspect.

Something in the way he moved reminded Ichigo of Yoruichi, but where she teased purposefully with her hips and eyes, Grimmjow seemed completely unaware of the effect of his appearance. Ichigo suddenly realized that he was young, perhaps would be the same age if they were human. For some reason, it made Ichigo less afraid.

Grimmjow moved to the edge of his chain and Urahara pushed Ichigo the rest of the way forward. Clearly a test of dominance. Ichigo didn’t look away from Grimmjow’s eyes, even though the blue sparked along his veins like an electric shock. His heart pounded rapidly, each beat so loud to Ichigo’s ears he wondered that Grimmjow couldn’t read his nervousness from a kilometer away. Purposefully, he slowed his breath, pushed back the fear and confused arousal coiling in his stomach as Grimmjow circled him, never touching but brushing so close that Ichigo could feel his body heat, taste the deep scent of musk and sun that suited him so much more than the collar.

“Small pup,” Grimmjow snarled, but the slight shake in his voice betrayed something. Eagerness? Attraction? Ichigo only hoped it wasn’t anything that might get his stomach torn into.

“He’ll grow,” Urahara replied easily. “And he’s strong, yet.”

Ichigo scowled. Exactly who was the pet and who was the master?

Grimmjow grunted, looking Ichigo up and down with a hard smirk. “I like your smell, boy.” And that was all the warning he gave before lunging, reaching for Ichigo’s throat with claws unsheathed.

“Wha-!” Ichigo ducked and blocked the thrust with his wrist, his bones grinding painfully as the blow hit. Immediately, Grimmjow aimed a kick at his stomach, and Ichigo barely managed to jump backwards in time. With his years of schoolyard fights and nightly jaunts with Rukia, Ichigo knew a dangerous opponent when he saw one. It was the most he could do to keep out of Grimmjow’s reach and avoid letting him take them both down. Ichigo knew that if Grimmjow was given a chance to pin him, he would likely never rise again. “Hey!” He called over his shoulder, a bit desperate. “Urahara?”

“Hang in there!” Urahara called, watching the sparring with an amused smile and not a single movement to intervene. He winced in sympathy as Ichigo was knocked in the gut, looking surprised when the kid actually got a few knocks in himself. Finally, when it looked like Ichigo really needed help, Urahara pulled out a silver whistle and blew into it.

About to sink his teeth into Ichigo’s shoulder, Grimmjow dropped heavily to the floor and curled in pain. “Fuck!” He hissed, clutching his head as Ichigo wisely scooted out of reach. “I’ll kill ya!”

“I guess he didn’t like me,” Ichigo stood shakily, dusting himself off. He inspected the cuts on his hands and told himself not to feel disappointed.

“Actually, you’ve really impressed him.” Urahara pulled a roll of bandages out of the sleeve of his robe. “Right, Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow grunted, looking grudgingly impressed as he peered at Ichigo from under his line of sweaty hair. “I’ll take ‘im. Better n’ Aizen.”

“Excellent!” Urahara crowed, clapping Ichigo on the shoulder. “Congratulations!”

“Right.” Ichigo muttered, realizing that not once in all of this did he actually agree to the care and keeping of a renegade Espada. But all possible protests died a timely death in his throat as Grimmjow slid gracefully to his feet, moved forward to take Ichigo’s face in his hands, and lapped up a line of blood trickling down his jaw with a tongue that was rough and unbearably hot.

+

Rukia had made a disbelieving noise. His father had chuckled, clapped him on the back, and told him that he was on his own. Karin and Yuzu had been indifferently amused and wide-eyed with awe, respectively. And Grimmjow had ignored all of them, staring into space with the expression of perpetual boredom.

It wasn’t until Ichigo was standing outside his bedroom, opening the door to what he knew was a bed, desk, single window, and floor littered with laundry, that he realized how impossible it all was. Grimmjow was an endangered species, worth millions of dollars and no doubt used to being treated as such. As if he would be satisfied with sharing Ichigo’s narrow bed and taking meals with his family.

“Here it is.” Ichigo said weakly as he walked in. He turned to Grimmjow nervously, but the snort of derision he was expecting didn’t manifest. Instead, his pet (and even thinking those words sent a jolt of possession and excitement down his spine) seemed to wear a look of deep concentration.

“Smells like you,” Grimmjow mumbled, and Ichigo thought that he probably shouldn’t have heard that, but it made him grin uncontrollably all the same. One day he would have to ask Grimmjow what, exactly, he smelled like.

“Here,” Ichigo moved to catch Grimmjow’s arm as he walked towards the window. The startled growl he received in reply as Grimmjow flinched away told him that casual touching would not be tolerated. “Let me take off your collar.” He explained, instead.

Grimmjow looked confused, even as he raised his chin and allowed Ichigo to cup his neck. “Ya have a new one?”

“No,” Ichigo slid the leather through the loop, feeling a weight lift in his chest as pale skin, slightly chafed, was revealed.

“Ya don’t want me to wear a collar?” Grimmjow demanded, incredulous.

“Not unless you want to.” Ichigo answered, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain further. The mix of emotions concerning how he felt about Grimmjow’s freedom was extremely clear in his mind, but would probably sound like nonsense when put into words.

“Naw,” Grimmjow still seemed suspicious, a bit wondering as he rubbed at his neck. “I’m … I mean, it’s not as hot this way.”

“Alright.” Ichigo tossed the annoying strip of leather aside, enjoying the smooth curve of his pet’s throat. He immediately felt guilty for that thought, and turned before it could show on his face. Lust for one’s pet, of course, was a commonplace thing, and even much of the motivation to acquire one. Still, it definitely wasn’t the time to be demanding sexual favors, and with Grimmjow, that time would probably be never. It was enough to own him, even in name only, Ichigo decided with a slow, aching burn in the bottom of his stomach.

“Let’s fuck.”

“What?” Ichigo spun around to find Grimmjow crawling onto in his bed, utterly feline in the way he easily commanded the entire space. He stared at Ichigo intently, the same look he had worn two hours ago, just before he had tried to take off Ichigo’s head.

“Fucking. Now.” Grimmjow scowled at Ichigo’s lack of movement. “Ya deaf, boy, or just impotent? Either, n’ I’m slittin’ yer throat n’ takin’ my chances with Aizen.”

Although Ichigo was beginning to learn that Grimmjow threw out threats the way other people threw out adverbs, even he could see that this demand was yet another test of dominance, and that there would be real consequences if he failed. Grimmjow’s fierce glare promised that. If he had a tail it would have been weaving slowly through the air in anticipation.

Cats are territorial by nature, Ichigo could hear Urahara’s sardonic voice ringing in his brain. Moving to a new location unsettles them, makes them particularly tetchy and looking for any excuse to mark off their new territory.”

Ichigo moved to the bed, slowly, never dropping Grimmjow’s gaze. He poured every ounce of authority and determination he could fake into that look, willing Grimmjow to break first, so he wouldn’t have to. He did not speak.

After a long moment, Grimmjow curled his legs to his haunches, and it was as good as a flinch. He looked extremely annoyed with himself afterwards, as Ichigo sat and smiled.

“I don’t have many rules, Grimmjow-”

“Good. I’m not gonna follow ‘em.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see.” He was prepared for Grimmjow’s body when it pounced, and this was the only thing that prevented his head from being smashed into the headboard as he was catapulted backwards, tangled with clawing limbs.

Grimmjow stared down at him, triumphant, straddling his hips. His smug expression was inappropriately adorable, and dissipated any lingering fear Ichigo had, allowing him to pull a completely truthful expression of cool amusement.

“Down, kitty.”

In response, Grimmjow growled and surged forward to attack Ichigo’s mouth. Their kiss was predictably savage, teeth drawing blood and tongues dueling for control. Impatiently, Grimmjow’s hips began stuttering, rubbing his erection against Ichigo’s hip in a possessive roll.

Ichigo allowed this to continue for one, enjoyably vicious moment before he dug his fingers into the short hairs at Grimmjow’s nape and tugged him harshly away. “Rule one,” He shook Grimmjow by the nape like a naughty kitten, dodging the elbows thrown into his face. “I make the rules.”

Before Grimmjow could snarl a proper reply, Ichigo twisted their legs together and rolled until he was on top, barely holding his pet down with the entire weight of his body. It felt a bit like pinning a lion with yarn, and the heat of tensed muscles and strong limbs beneath him reminded Ichigo that he was dealing with a predator. Still, the gleam of reluctant submission (surrounded by far more calculated rebellion) in Grimmjow’s deep blue eyes made it worth the risk.

“Rule two.” Ichigo pressed his hot breath into Grimmjow’s ear. “You obey them.”

“Hell if I-“

“I’m not fucking you tonight.” Ichigo said matter-of-factly, and Grimmjow’s answering scowl questioned whether this was a punishment of some kind. It wasn’t, but Ichigo’s face didn’t betray the real reason, a rather mundane lack of lube. Instead, he pressed his hand inside the open flare of Grimmjow’s white shirt, molding his palm along the hard panes of his abs. Mine, he thought, staring into Grimmjow’s eyes. Ichigo’s hand travelled upwards, to the swell of Grimmjow’s pecs, thumbing a nipple as he allowed Grimmjow’s heartbeat to throb through both their bodies. Mine.

Grimmjow seemed to get the message, his eyes darkening with challenge and arousal. He curled his fingers into Ichigo’s hips, held him down hard enough to bruise, not rutting, but allowing the other to feel the heat of his cock.

Ichigo wasn’t doing much better. He was so fucking hard, His sensitive cockhead pressing against the zipper of his jeans, but he managed to ignore it and stay in control, mapping Grimmjow’s body with slow, possessive strokes of his hands until his pet’s breath subsided into soft growls and he began writhing with desperation.

Then, with one hand gripping the hair at Grimmjow’s nape, Ichigo slipped the other down, into the waistband of his white pants. “I’m going to watch you come,” He couldn’t believe he was saying something this dirty and not even feeling silly about it. “And you’ll come when I say so.”

Grimmjow’s snarl of protest was punished by a swift tug at his nape.

Ichigo began with firm, slow strokes, figuring that continuous eye contact would make up for his lack of skill. Grimmjow’s cock was thick and impossibly hot in his hand, throbbing with every pull. At first, he kept his defiant gaze on Ichigo’s face, but when Ichigo’s thumb flicked the head of his cock, Grimmjow arched with a fierce cry.

Riding Grimmjow’s thrashing thighs only made the front of his jeans wetter and more uncomfortable, but Ichigo couldn’t bring himself to care as he shortened his strokes, pulling at Grimmjow’s cock with no mercy, occasionally digging a nail into the sensitive slit just to hear him scream. When he seemed to be getting close, Ichigo backed off, took his hand away, slicked with sweat and precome, and pulled at Grimmjow’s balls, waiting until his pet’s trembling body settled back into the bed. The glare he received for this very much made Ichigo fear for his life.

“Fuck,” Grimmjow hissed, his nails leaving lines of red along Ichigo’s back.”Fuckin’ finish me, or-“

Ichigo interrupted him with a kiss, figuring that that was as close to begging as Grimmjow would get tonight. His hand returned to Grimmjow’s twitching erection, this time jacking him the way he did himself, when he wanted to get off hard and fast. The extra twist to his wrist made Grimmjow sink his teeth into Ichigo’s bottom lip.

Ichigo had always thought it would be cheesy to say, “Come,” like they did in porn, but it was actually really hot when he whispered it in Grimmjow’s ear, followed it with a bite to his earlobe as Grimmjow’s body jackknifed off the bed, curling with a rumbling, snarled version of Ichigo’s name and coming in hot spurts everywhere.

Panting, Ichigo summoned the strength to push away from Grimmjow’s limp, sticky body to sit at the other end of his bed, sweat cooling on his forehead. He tried not to wonder exactly how thin the walls of his house were.

“Boy.” Grimmjow twisted himself to lie between Ichigo’s legs, his grin making Ichigo wonder if he had any refractory period at all. He completely didn’t expect Grimmjow to reach for his jean zipper, opening him with more brute force than tact, and pressing his entire face into Ichigo’s soaked briefs.

“G-Grimmjow!” Ichigo barked, nearly shooting off the bed as Grimmjow began mouthing his cock through the cotton, scent-marking the inside of Ichigo’s thighs and, in turn, smearing Ichigo’s scent all over him as well.

He seemed loose and playful after his orgasm, peering up at Ichigo through his eyelashes and smirking. Still dangerous, still largely untamed, just giving Ichigo a taste of what could come if he played his cards right as master.

“Yeah,” Ichigo affirmed shakily, allowing Grimmjow to pull down his underwear and lap at the head of his cock. “Suck me.”

Grimmjow complied whole-heartedly, swallowing Ichigo down without a hint of a gag reflex. The way he slurped and sucked was unskillful, splattered his chin and most of Ichigo’s crotch with saliva. But the raspy, sandpaper-roughness of his tongue and the constant threat of teeth more than made up for it. At least for Ichigo, who had never felt more of a masochist. “Master,” Grimmjow purred as he pulled off and rubbed his cheek in Ichigo’s pubic hair. “Ichigo.” When Ichigo growled in reply, Grimmjow offered his opened mouth, still too cheeky to be quite obedient.

Ichigo twined his hands in Grimmjow’s hair and fucked his throat in two, sharp thrusts, shuddering through his orgasm. The feeling of his come sliding down Grimmjow’s eager throat was the most erotic thing Ichigo had never imagined.

In the aftermath, Ichigo was far too boneless to do more than sink into the pillows, panting at the celing. Luckily, Grimmjow seemed placated for the night, just reared back on his haunches and licked his lips, grooming his face with his fingers and wiping it on Ichigo’s rumpled shirt. Tiredly, Ichigo flung out an arm, a silent invitation that he wasn’t sure Grimmjow would take.

Without hesitation, Grimmjow stretched his body along the bed, curling towards Ichigo even though the room was steaming and they were both fully clothed. As Ichigo’s hand ran tentatively down the Grimmjow’s spine, he could feel the rumble of his pet’s purr vibrating through his bones.

Sequel: The Trials and Tribulations of Ichigo Kurosaki