• What on earth does that stupid retard want now?

    Aizen had ordered for Grimmjow to meet him at the throne room. No doubt to issue out more orders. Grimmjow cursed the day that Aizen came butting into his life and started roping everyone into his plans of world domination, promising them power. What really pissed him off was that everyone willingly obeyed the stupid prat. Grimmjow did not dare say any of this to Aizen though because, annoying as he was, Aizen was very strong (if the way his reiatsu could crush Grimmjow was any indication) and Grimmjow would very much prefer being alive and bossed around than dead.

    Grimmjow brushed at a strand of blue hair that fell into his eyes.

    This had better be good.

    He hoped that whatever Aizen's order may be, that it involved killing a certain orange haired substitute shinigami.

    As soon as he reached the throne room, he found Aizen sitting in a ridiculously large chair.

    Probably to match his overly swollen head, Grimmjow snickered inwardly.

    "You requested for my presence, Aizen-sama?" Grimmjow said, bowing slightly, his voice not betraying what he really thought one bit.

    Aizen looked at him. "Yes. I need you to do something for me."

    Surprise, surprise.

    "Anything you wish, Aizen-sama."

    Aizen-sama? He should have been given a critical hit in the nutsack for addressing a human by that. But common sense made him hold his tongue. He didn't want to lose his arm again. Once was humiliating enough. There was a difference between being a coward and being stupid.

    "Excellent. You are well aware that our Cuatra Espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer, has been ill lately, am I right? We need him to get well soon for the upcoming battle." Aizen eyed Grimmjow, placing his chin in the palm of his hand.

    Yes, Ulquiorra is sick. So, what's your point?

    Grimmjow remained silent, waiting for Aizen to continue.

    "I want you to monitor his condition and nurse him back to health." Aizen said it as though it was the most natural thing in the world to say.

    He inwardly groaned at this. That prat expected him, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques the Sexta Espada, the most violent Espada to take care of Schiffer? He could not even take care of a house plant, let alone an arrancar! The only reason Aizen even wants someone to nurse Schiffer to health is so that he could return to having fun with his toy again, the sick s**t, Grimmjow found himself thinking bitterly.

    "Why can't someone else do it?" The words escaped his mouth before he even realised it.

    The brown haired man raised an eyebrow at Grimmjow's small outburst. "As you can see, everyone else is busy. You were the only one available."

    Grimmjow bit his bottom lip, eyes narrowed. Oh, so he was a last resort? How nice of Aizen to point that out. "I will do the best I can, Aizen-sama." His voice calm, contrary to the angered expression that his face held.

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    He had always imagined himself to be spending his time killing things. Regardless whether they were arrancar or shinigami. Spending his time in eternal boredom, maybe. Or sleeping for hours on end to fill his day. But he had never imagined himself to be sitting at the side of Ulquiorra's bed, holding a piece of wet cloth against the pale man's forehead, making sure that the younger arrancar was as comfortable as possible. Taking care of someone else, maybe, but certainly not his enemy, Schiffer.

    Life is good, he thought sarcastically.

    Grimmjow looked down at the bedridden Ulquiorra Schiffer, observing the younger arrancar. Schiffer was suffering from a serious case of high fever, apparently. While this may prove fatal for humans, arrancars were different. They can get through this with no problem due to their ability to heal quickly. The younger arrancar's usually white skin was flushed. His face, which was usually expressionless, looked pained. His eyes were shut close and he was terribly thin.

    He looked vulnerable. Like a little china doll.

    How he wished that the black haired arrancar would open his beautiful green eyes.

    ...

    Did he just think that Schiffer's eyes were beautiful? And that he looked like a china doll, no less?

    Grimmjow shook his head, mentally kicking himself for thinking that way about his enemy, the man who called him trash on a daily basis.

    Ulquiorra murmured something in his sleep. Grimmjow thought nothing of it since the Cuatra Espada had been murmuring things in his sleep ever since he had arrived.

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    Little did Grimmjow know, Ulquiorra was being plagued by nightmares in his deep slumber.

    “P-p-please, Aizen-sama. Please stop.”

    The brown eyed man who was above Ulquiorra’s small, quivering body raised an eyebrow. “Now, now, Ulquiorra. This is a test of your loyalty.” He reached down to stroke Ulquiorra’s cheek, in a mock way of showing that he cared for the young man. In truth, he did not give a damn about his subordinates. They were just there to carry out his orders and to entertain him. It just so happened that Ulquiorra was his favourite toy, seeing that he was the most obedient. He patted the young arrancar’s head. “Relax.”

    Ulquiorra choked, sinking his face into the bed sheets. He did not want his master to see his pain. He always listened to what Aizen said. He always did what he was told. But he did not like this one bit. He grew to fear every time Aizen asked him for his presence. At first it was just a once every few days. After that, he was made to go through this torture every single night. It was hard putting up a strong front in front of his fellow Espada with the fear that they might have heard the screams coming out of Aizen’s room.

    But luckily, none of them said anything of it. They either did not know anything or knew and felt sorry for him. And he hated it when people felt sorry for him.

    Here he was, on the bed in Aizen’s room yet again, naked. His clothes lay on the floor where Aizen had tossed them.

    Ulquiorra bit his lower lip to prepare himself for the pain that was sure to come.

    Aizen entered him.

    Ulquiorra bit back his scream, drawing blood from his lower lip. The pain was almost blinding him. He grasped at the bed sheets, tears running down his pale face. He could feel Aizen’s hands on his hips, moving them in rhythm with his thrusts, which were growing faster and more rough by the second. Aizen did not even bother to prepare him first. Aizen’s hands held his hips in a way that was sure to leave angry red bruises for Ulquiorra – to add to his ever growing collection of bruises that Aizen had inflicted on him. With each thrust that rammed into his small body, screams were bubbling in Ulquiorra’s throat, threatening to spill out any second. His throat felt raw from holding back the screams. Surely his body could not take any more of this abuse. He felt like he was going to split in half.

    He pushed his face further into the bed sheets, his tears soaking the material. He could not see anything. He only saw white blinding pain.

    “You are so tight,” Aizen growled, thrusting even harder into Ulquiorra tight, warm entrance. So hard that Ulquiorra was pushed forward with every thrust.

    The dark haired arrancar could no longer hold back and screamed. Aizen groaned and released his seed into his subordinate’s quivering body.

    Finally, Aizen pulled his length out of him. And with that, Ulquiorra could feel his own blood trickling down his inner thighs, along with a white substance – Aizen’s seed.

    Ulquiorra shifted in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. His mumbles went unnoticed by Grimmjow, who had gotten used to him talking in his slumber.

    Ulquiorra pushed himself up from the bed, his arms shaking. He looked around the room dazedly. He did not even need to look down at the bed sheets to know that it was smeared with his own blood. Aizen had already gotten up and was already dressing himself.

    “You are dismissed,” the man said smoothly, as though the event that had taken place moments ago did not happen.

    The green eyed arrancar slid off the bed, his eyes downcast, full of pain and humiliation. He was used to be spoken to this way. He felt like what he always called people lower than him – trash. Aizen had taken advantage of him and used him. Now that he was satisfied, he no longer needed Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra knew that Aizen merely saw him as the obedient arrancar that carried out his every order and also as someone to satisfy him sexually. He walked towards his pile of clothes but stopped abruptly as pain jolted up his spine. He cried out.

    The aftermath of sex as an uke.

    New tears springing into his eyes, he grabbed his clothes and quickly dressed. He did not want to be around when Aizen suddenly decides to have another round. When he was done dressing, he walked out of the room as quickly as he could, not looking back to see the lustful eyes that followed his back.

    “The poor s**t is shivering,” Grimmjow said to himself. He wiped the sweat that trickled down the Cuatra’s face and pulled the blanket covering him up to his superior’s chest in an attempt to make Ulquiorra more comfortable.

    He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind, letting out a sigh of relief. The torture was over. For now. He closed his eyes. He needed to compose himself. He did not want his comrades to see him looking vulnerable. Once he was able to return to his usual stoic self, a mask to hide his true feelings and inner turmoil from the world, he straightened up and started to stride down the hall, making way for his room.

    “Ulquiorra?”

    Alarmed, thinking that his master was calling him back to the room, Ulquiorra stiffened. He turned around slowly, only to be met with a pair of concerned blue eyes.

    Grimmjow looked at him, shifting his feet uncomfortably. “Urmmm... Are you okay?”

    The Sexta Espada, the one he deemed as trash was concerned about him? The one who was constantly picking fights with him was actually looking at him with eyes full of... sympathy? And there was something else. Something else that he could not quite put a finger on.

    “It is none of your concern, trash.” Ulquiorra looked away. He did not want to look weak in the Sexta’s eyes.

    Grimmjow did not look angry at all for being called trash. He merely bit his lip, looking down at the smaller arrancar. He seemed to be trying to look for the right words to say to his superior. When he did not, he let out a long shuddering breath, running his hand through his teal hair. He looked like a lost puppy. Which is not something someone would usually describe the Sexta, who had feline-like... qualities. He reached out for Ulquiorra.

    Who promptly shrank away from his touch, fear evident on his face, emotions breaking through his mask for a second. The event that took place moments ago replayed in his mind.

    Grimmjow withdrew his hand. He looked at his superior with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

    “What are you apologising for?” Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes.

    The teal haired arrancar did not answer. He just looked at his superior. After a few long drawn seconds of silence, he said, “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

    “I’m perfectly capable of walking to my own room by myself,” Ulquiorra said.

    But it did not matter what he said. Grimmjow was quite adamant to walk him back to his room. Something that he found quite perplexing. The Sexta was not normally this caring. Least of all, to him. When they reached a white door with the number four painted in black on it – the door to Ulquiorra’s room – Grimmjow stuffed his hands into his pockets, not looking at Ulquiorra at all. Although Ulquiorra had protested at being accompanied back to his room, he felt thankful for the kind gesture that came from, of all people, Grimmjow. Not that he would tell him that.

    Finally, Grimmjow looked into Ulquiorra’s emerald green eyes. He touched Ulquiorra’s shoulder. This time the Cuatra did not shy away from him. He said, “You don’t need to suffer alone.” And with that, he left a confused Ulquiorra alone in the empty hall.

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    "STOP!"

    Grimmjow, who was fast asleep in his chair, awoke with a start, the book in his lap falling down to the floor. He had brought a few books along to entertain himself since there was nothing else to do other than watch his sleeping superior. Ulquiorra was awake, sitting upright, eyes looking at his surroundings madly, a film of sweat covering his small form.

    "Finally, you’re up, I thought that you would never get up," Grimmjow grumbled. "Since you’re up, it’s time for you to eat."

    Ulquiorra looked at him, his eyes wide in fright. He was looking at Grimmjow but somehow wasn't seeing him. He grabbed the Sexta Espada by the shoulders, eyes mad. "Run, run! Can't you see? There's blood everywhere! Run before it is too late! Or else he will come for you too!" He waved his arms around frantically, randomly wiping random spots on the bed, as though to wipe away the imaginary blood.

    Slightly alarmed, Grimmjow reached out for Ulquiorra, "Whoa, relax. There's no blood." However, when he touched Ulquiorra's shoulder, the Cuatra Espada let out a small gasp and his eyes widened even more.

    "It's you! The devil himself! Stay away from me! Stay back, I say!" Ulquiorra shrank away from Grimmjow's touch, cowering at the corner of his bed, his bed sheets wrapped tightly around his small form.

    "Ulquiorra..." Grimmjow's voice was pained.

    He was told that Ulquiorra might break out into mad ravings during his bout of fever but he did not expect it to be this bad.

    "Come on, Ulquiorra, don't be scared. It's just me. Come on." Not that Grimmjow was any better than the devil, but whatever.

    "No!"

    Letting out a breath heavily, Grimmjow grabbed a bowl of porridge that some lower arrancar had provided earlier and crawled onto Ulquiorra's spacious queen sized bed (why on earth did he need a queen sized bed?) and made his way towards the feverish man.

    "Stay away from me!" Ulquiorra started throwing pillows at Grimmjow, who avoided each one of them.

    "Don't be afraid. You need to eat. You are getting really thin." He tried to coax the younger arrancar. For once in his life, Grimmjow's voice was gentle.

    This seemed to soothe the black haired arrancar but it was not enough. He still looked but somehow not entirely seeing Grimmjow, frightened. "You will just hurt me again." He pouted.

    How adorable.

    "Come now, Ulquiorra. I'm not going to hurt you." He neared Ulquiorra, his hot breath on the Cuatra's white cheek.

    "Get away from me!" Ulquiorra pushed Grimmjow. "Stay back!" He hit Grimmjow on the chest with his tiny fists.

    Now Grimmjow was beginning to get exasperated. How was he supposed to deal with this sort of behaviour? Usually he would have resorted to bodily harm, except that Aizen would have killed him on the spot for causing injury to his beloved obedient toy Espada. And, and somehow, he could not bring himself to cause Ulquiorra more pain than he was already suffering.

    Grimmjow turned his face away at the thought, his cheeks reddening.

    Then, slowly turning to face the frightened Ulquiorra, he dipped a spoon into the bowl of porridge. "Come now, Ulquiorra. You need to eat." He tried coaxing the obviously crazy Ulquiorra. The smaller arrancar narrowed his eyes. When he saw that Ulquiorra did not try to hit him again, he came nearer and wrapped his right arm around Ulquiorra. "Here." Getting Ulquiorra to open his mouth proved to be trying, but after coaxing him for awhile, he managed to get him to open his mouth and swallow the porridge.

    Soon, the bowl was empty. As soon as the porridge was devoured, Grimmjow held a glass of water between Ulquiorra's black and white lips. Ulquiorra drank the water greedily. Grimmjow smiled. "See? That wasn't that hard now was it?"

    SMACK!

    Ulquiorra had smacked him in the head.

    "Hey!" Grimmjow winced slightly. "That hurt!"

    "You hurt me!" Ulquiorra spat, his green eyes full of venom. "You fat jerk!"

    Oh, great, he has returned to his crazy self again.

    "Hey, hey, hey! I may be many things, but I am NOT fat!" Grimmjow said angrily.

    The rise in his voice made Ulquiorra cower and shy away from him. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling his knees to his chest as he rocked himself to and fro. He began rambling to himself about how evil was plaguing their world and that the fat jerk was the root of all evil.

    "Ulqui..." Grimmjow began exasperatedly, rubbing his head where Ulquiorra had hit him.

    That was when Ulquiorra began to cry. Huge, fat tears rolled down his white cheeks.

    Oh, s**t.

    He made Ulquiorra cry. Albeit Ulquiorra was not in his right state of mind, but still. He had made the strong and normally stoic Espada cry. It made him want to kick himself. Grimmjow swallowed. Wait a minute, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the Espada that only thought about himself, felt guilty? There was no denying it. The Sexta Espada felt bad. "Ulquiorra..." His throat felt raw from trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spring out of his blue eyes. He reached out for Ulquiorra.

    This only made Ulquiorra wail. "Stop it! I’m sick of being your toy! Just leave me alone!”

    "Ulqui... Please don’t cry." He would have given anything to have the stoic, annoying, high and mighty Ulquiorra back. Even if it did mean being called trash every day. It would still be so much better than seeing his fellow comrade diving into madness.

    "Don’t tell me what to do!" Ulquiorra's eyes flashed dangerously. His wails began to quiet down and his eyes were slowly sliding shut. It seemed that his mad raving was coming to an end. He slowly fell back onto the mattress, his head landing onto a pillow, his chest falling and rising slowly. Grimmjow let out a sigh of relief. He began to wipe the tears and sweat on Ulquiorra's face with a damp towel. He felt Ulquiorra's forehead and straight away pulled his hand back. It seemed that his temperature had risen drastically. Ulquiorra returned to mumbling nonsense in his sleep like he did before.

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    The next two days just rolled by the same way. Ulquiorra waking up screaming and thrashing around the bed. Grimmjow coaxing him. Grimmjow feeding him and giving drinks of water. Grimmjow getting smacked in the head by Ulquiorra. Grimmjow getting rained with a flurry of tiny fists. Grimmjow being called a fat jerk every now and then.

    Grimmjow frowned every time this happened.

    He so was not fat.

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    On the fourth day, Ulquiorra’s fever had died down enough for him to open his eyes without a crazed look in them, and was able to behave like a sane person. Much to Grimmjow’s relief. He had already received numerous cuts, bruises and scratches from the small arrancar. He did not know how much more he could take.

    “Sexta?” Ulquiorra sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes as he looked around his surroundings blearily. Even though he had nearly regained his health, he still felt weak.

    “Yeah. It’s me. And it’s time for you to take a bath. You haven’t bathed for days. You ******** smell like sour a**.” Grimmjow huffed, moody.

    Ulquiorra peered at Grimmjow’s face. “What happened to your face?”

    “Shut up.” The teal haired arrancar stood up, stretching his arms and legs. He felt sore all over from sitting down for so long. Who knew taking care of a sit person could be so exhausting? Especially when that sick person was liable to fall in bouts of mad ravings? He looked at the smaller arrancar. “Can you stand? You need to clean yourself up.”

    Ulquiorra got up and walked towards the bathroom.

    Only to fall down after taking no more than three steps.

    “Looks like you aren’t going anywhere without any help. Geez, you’re such a pain.” Grimmjow bent down and scooped up the Cuatra, carrying him towards the bathroom where he had already drawn a warm bath for him. He placed Ulquiorra gingerly at the side of the tub. “There. Now take off your clothes and get in. I’ll be here to monitor you.”

    Ulquiorra looked at him sharply.

    Grimmjow turned red when he realised how that must have sounded like. God. He really sounded like some perverted old man. He sounded like a ******** ******. “Aizen’s orders,” he murmured. He turned his back on Ulquiorra, allowing him some privacy to strip out of his clothes. “Relax, I’m not going to do anything. It’s not like you have anything that I haven’t seen. I’m just here to make sure you don’t drown or something. Which seems to be a wise thing to do since you can’t do anything without falling on your small butt.”

    Ulquiorra ignored the comment about his butt. “That’s very reassuring to know.”

    Grimmjow stared at the white wall in front of him, pretending to find it fascinating. He heard the Cuatra’s clothes falling down to the tiled floor, and he heard Ulquiorra lowering himself into the tub. He tried not to look back, which proved to be very difficult but he resisted temptation and stared resolutely at the wall in front of him. Images of Ulquiorra’s naked body danced in his mind. Oh s**t. He was so going to wake up tomorrow morning with a hard on. Stupid Ulquiorra.

    “Why are you still here, trash?”

    The teal haired arrancar drew in a quick breath, closing his eyes. The ungrateful little ********! “I already told you why! And is this how you talk to someone who has been taking care of you for the past few days?” Grimmjow snapped. “You know, I preferred you when you were crazy!”

    “Excuse me?”

    “Never mind.” Grimmjow was feeling tired. “Just hurry up.”

    Ulquiorra looked down, his hands placed perfectly in his lap. The water was warm against his skin. He had managed to cleanse himself from all signs of dirt and sweat. His hair hung around his face, wet. He no longer felt sticky and gross. Much to his relief. He had a thing with hygiene. He bit his lip. He always called people trash because it made him believe that he was better than them. He just could not face the reality that his life was less than perfect. That he led a sad life. That he went through every single day with fear, humiliation, torture and pain. He made himself believe that it was all for loyalty. It made it easier to deal with things. But that did not mean that it did not hurt. It still did. He was weak. And stupid. And pathetic. The only redeeming quality he had was that he was obedient! What kind of quality is that?

    A silent tear ran down his face and fell into the water that filled the tub.

    Grimmjow was the only one that showed him any sympathy. The only one that seemed to care about him – rough and unruly as he was. And how did he repay the man? By insulting him. By putting him down every chance he got. He just could not bring himself to get too close to Jeagerjaques. What if he got hurt again? More tears ran down his pale face. That fear was what always held him back. Even though he felt safe and happy around Jeagerjaques. Two feelings that were unfamiliar to the green eyed arrancar.

    “I-I-I’m s-sorry, Grimmjow.” Ulquiorra’s voice broke, even more tears sliding down his face.

    Alarmed to hear the upset in the Cuatra’s voice and also the fact that he had called the Sexta by his name for the first time, Grimmjow turned around to face Ulquiorra, who was wiping at his tears. “Hey, hey. It’s alright. I wasn’t upset at all. I was just tired.” His voice was soothing and gentle. He reached out and rubbed the tears away with his thumb. Ulquiorra crying? This was not normal Ulquiorra behaviour.

    “No, that’s still no excuse for my behaviour. I’m sorry, Grimmjow, I’m sorry.” The smaller arrancar’s body shook.

    Then Ulquiorra did a surprising thing. He reached up and hugged Grimmjow. “Please forgive me,” he whispered into the Sexta’s hair. This action shocked the Sexta. He stiffened for a moment. Then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around the young man in what he hoped to be a comforting hug.

    It took all of Grimmjow’s self control not to look down.

    “Grimmjow?” The Cuatra’s voice was so soft now that he had to listen closely to hear him.

    “Hmm?”

    “Please stay.” He had decided. He had decided to trust Grimmjow and he was going to show the man his true feelings.

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    During the fifth day, Ulquiorra's fever had broken. Now all he needed was rest to recover his strength. Grimmjow gazed at him. Thank God that he stopped with his mad ravings long ago and had now returned to sleeping like a baby. It pained Grimmjow to see the usually stoic arrancar in that state. The stoic arrancar that he knew was always strong and nothing seemed to faze him. He always worked with efficiency and was more than an able fighter on the battlefield. Better even, than Grimmjow himself. Although Grimmjow was taller, bigger and older than Ulquiorra, Ulquiorra was still stronger than him. Which was why the green eyed Espada was two ranks higher than him.

    Gazing at Ulquiorra's sleeping form, he found himself beginning to speak.

    "You know, Ulqui, I can call you Ulqui, can I? I’ve been thinking. You know how I always said that I hated you? Well, taking care of you has given me time to think and I realised something." He looked down at his hands. "I don't really hate you. Far from it. I guess that I was just so frustrated that you always ignored me. It was like you didn't see me. And I hated that." No reply. This encouraged Grimmjow to continue, because he would not dare say it to Ulquiorra when he was awake. "So I tried to get your attention by acting like such an a** towards you. I loved it whenever I managed to catch your attention, even when you call me trash. At least it shows that you know that I exist."

    Grimmjow placed his face in his hands, breathing heavily.

    "It was hard to get your attention, so I was happy with any sort of attention that you gave me. I have always been attracted to you. Seeing you this way for the past few days kills me." Grimmjow swallowed. "I've heard you." He looked at Ulquiorra, half expecting him to wake up and ask him what he had heard. "I heard you whenever you were in Aizen's room. The things he did to you. To make you cry out in pain like that. It's unforgivable. I've seen the state of Aizen's room every time. There was blood all over the bed sheets. All the time. And you always limped for days after that. And yet, you were always able to keep a strong face. I admire that about you."

    He heard screams.

    “P-p-please, Aizen-sama...!”

    He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. The screams were full of fear. He knew who the voice belonged to, but he just could not believe it. The screams continued, along with the sickening sound of flesh pounding against flesh. He wanted to help the young man. He wanted to rip Aizen apart. But he knew that he did not have the power to. Aizen would have just torn him apart and killed his sex toy as well. He cursed himself for being so weak.

    He saw Ulquiorra limp out of Aizen’s room, closing the door behind him. The Cuatra had always carried himself with an air of dignity, but all Grimmjow saw at the moment was a broken man. It was rare to catch any display of emotion from the young man and when he saw the look of pain in Ulquiorra’s eyes, it was too much. It killed him that he was not able to help Ulquiorra. It killed him even more to see Ulquiorra delude himself that it was all a test of loyalty to block out the pain. With each passing day, he saw a small part of the green eyed arrancar die. From that day on he swore that he would make sure that the Cuatra would keep on living, that he would not lose himself. He swore to protect the little Espada. And he would make sure that one day that stupid s**t Aizen will pay.

    “Urmmm... Are you okay?”

    Grimmjow looked away, his eyes slowly filling with tears at the memory. He wiped them away hurriedly.

    "You’re strong. And I think you deserve better than that."

    He held Ulquiorra's white hand that was lying across his chest. He squeezed the small hand. "Although I have never said it, I don't think I would ever dare say it to you if you weren't asleep, I think that you’re beautiful. I think... I think..."

    He let out a shuddering breath.

    "I think that I love you," Grimmjow finished.

    No response. Just slow, steady breathing could be heard from Ulquiorra's sleeping form.

    Grimmjow looked up.

    He was glad to see that Ulquiorra was better. The colour from Ulquiorra's face was slowly disappearing, returning to its normal white self. His chest rose and fell slowly. He seemed content and so, so... peaceful in his sleep. Ulquiorra's black and white lips were slightly parted. He looked so adorable that Grimmjow wished that he had a camera with him. Grimmjow stopped.

    His lips. They looked so soft, and inviting. They seemed to be calling Grimmjow over.

    He wondered how they would feel like. How they would taste like.

    Entranced, he closed his eyes and slowly lowered his lips towards Ulquiorra's.

    He placed a soft kiss on Ulquiorra's lips.

    He marvelled at the softness of Ulquiorra's lips. They seemed to somehow be a perfect fit for his own. He cupped Ulquiorra's face with his hands, stroking the pale arrancar's cheeks with his thumb. He licked at Ulquiorra's bottom lip. He tasted just as how Grimmjow had imagined he would be; delicious. He smiled against Ulquiorra's lips. Suddenly realising what he was doing, he was about to withdraw, when he felt a hand curl behind his neck and the black and white lips against his returned his kiss, soft and unsure. A white hand came up and held Grimmjow's hand that was cupping the pale arrancar's cheek.

    Shocked, Grimmjow withdrew, his lips inches from Ulquiorra's.

    "Ulquiorra?" he said uncertainly.

    Ulquiorra opened those beautiful emerald orbs of his, his breaths slow and heavy. His hand was still holding Grimmjow's gently.

    If Ulquiorra was awake, why wasn't he being blasted into smithereens with a cero? He had expected that Ulquiorra would have been furious by this action. Unless, he is sick again, Grimmjow thought with alarm.

    He removed his hand from Ulquiorra's cheek, and lifted Ulquiorra's body till the smaller arrancar was in a sitting position. Grimmjow crawled onto the bed so that he was sitting in front Ulquiorra. The Cuatra Espada stared back him with those unreadable eyes of his, watching Grimmjow's every movement. Was the Cuatra sick again? My God, he silently hoped that the man was not in one of those mad ravings of his again. Grimmjow did not know how much more of that he could take. Cautiously, Grimmjow held a hand against Schiffer's forehead.

    Ulquiorra's temperature was normal.

    It was then that Ulquiorra spoke, his voice quiet, "I'm not sick, Grimmjow."

    The Sexta's hand fell from the Cuatra's forehead abruptly.

    "You aren't?" Grimmjow said disbelievingly. His face started to turn crimson when he realised that Ulquiorra was fully aware that Grimmjow had just kissed him. "I'm, err... About just now, I..." Grimmjow turned his face away, unable to look into those emerald eyes anymore.

    "It's okay, Grimmjow."

    What?? No cero? No punch in the face?

    Ulquiorra continued, "I... I liked it."

    "..."

    The Sexta could not believe his ears. He slowly turned to face Ulquiorra, and noticed that a most adorable pink blush adorned his doll-like face. Slowly, Grimmjow reached out and placed the back of his hand against Ulquiorra's cheek. He frowned. "Your temperature is normal." He still did not believe that Ulquiorra was in a right state of mind.

    Ulquiorra gently removed Grimmjow's hand from his cheek and held it, interlocking his fingers with Grimmjow's. He leaned forward till their lips were mere millimetres apart, their breaths mingling with one another. "I'm not sick, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra repeated. That adorable blush intensified.

    The first thought that came to Grimmjow's mind was, He's delirious.

    "And I'm not delirious," Ulquiorra said quietly. When Grimmjow continued to stare at him with wide eyes, his face turning a brighter crimson with embarrassment, Ulquiorra sighed. He tentatively closed the distance between their lips.

    Grimmjow stiffened. He was in a state of shock.

    The kiss was just like Ulquiorra. Soft. Innocent. Unsure. The sweetness of it all made Grimmjow's head spin. His eyes fluttered close, moaning softly against Ulquiorra's black and white lips. He felt Ulquiorra's arms wrap themselves around his neck, pulling himself closer till Ulquiorra was practically in his lap, their bodies flush together. This close proximity was undeniably making Grimmjow harden. Hesitantly, Grimmjow placed his hands on Ulquiorra's slim hips. When he finally returned to his senses, Grimmjow began returning the kiss. He slid his tongue across Ulquiorra's bottom lip, seeking entrance which Ulquiorra happily granted.

    His tongue explored Ulquiorra's wet cavern, exploring every tooth and corner, and then massaging his tongue against Ulquiorra's. Ulquiorra moaned softly, his fingers playing at the teal hair behind Grimmjow's neck. Ulquiorra tasted heavenly. Addictive. And he wanted to taste more of Ulquiorra.

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    In the Cuatra Espada's room lay a tangle of naked bodies on the bed. Two naked bodies, to be exact. Ulquiorra was lying down, his eyes closed, looking very peaceful and content. Grimmjow was lying right next to him, his arm wrapped around the smaller man's waist protectively. He did not want the smaller arrancar to be out of his sight.

    "Ulqui."

    Ulquiorra cracked one of his eyes open, looking at the teal haired man out of the corner of his eye. They were both covered with a thin film of sweat. He turned to face the Sexta, snuggling towards him closer, placing his face into Grimmjow's neck. He resumed sucking and licking Grimmjow's neck, tasting the salty sweat on Grimmjow's skin. "Hmm?" he murmured into the Sexta's neck.

    Grimmjow moaned softly. It was nearly impossible to talk when Ulquiorra's mouth was doing dirty things to his body. "You know what? I'm glad that Aizen made me come and take care of you while you were ill." He pulled Ulquiorra into a hug, taking in the scent of the younger man's hair.

    “Me too.” He smiled against Grimmjow’s neck. “Oh and Grimmjow?” Ulquiorra pulled himself out of the confines of the Sexta’s neck.

    The teal haired arrancar looked at him, giving him his full attention while he played with Ulquiorra’s ebony locks. “Yeah?”

    Ulquiorra looked him in the eye. “I think I love you too.”

    Grimmjow’s eyes widened.

    He heard.