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Running Late

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Ichigo glared at the still form in his bed. "Grimmjow, get up."

"Fuck off."

"We're supposed to be meeting Rukia soon."

"I don't give a shit."

Ichigo leaned over to grab the blankets. Like hell he was going to let Grimmjow sleep. If he had to meet with Rukia, so did Grimmjow.

He never quite made it to the blankets.

Grimmjow reached up with surprising speed, flipping Ichigo until he was trapped under the arrancar. Teeth pressed against his throat, a knee slid between his thighs.

"Not getting up," Grimmjow muttered into Ichigo's neck.

It was tempting. Ichigo glanced at the clock and groaned. "We're going to be late."

"Fuck being late." Grimmjow's hands were working insistently at Ichigo's shirt. He'd already gotten half the buttons undone before Ichigo thought to stop him.

"We have to-"

A tongue down his throat cut him off and Ichigo forgot what he'd been trying to stop. His shirt fell open and then his pants were being unbuttoned and slid down. He vaguely remembered having to be somewhere as Grimmjow turned him onto his stomach but then Grimmjow reached for the tube of lubricant they kept hidden under the mattress. Slick fingers shoved inside of him, not bothering with gentleness in favor of expediency, and Ichigo forgot all about promises and meetings.

Grimmjow's cock was a welcome invasion. He came at Ichigo like it was a battle, hands clawing, bruising, hips slamming forward. There was power in every movement, power and control. Ichigo had given up trying to fight back. Fun as it was, bruises in certain areas made it difficult to walk the next day, and it was good, in its own way, just to give in. He knew he could fight back, but he didn't want to, reveling instead in the way Grimmjow moved him, in the feel of Grimmjow pounding inside of him, and the rise and fall of their hips.

He pulled his knees forward, lifting his ass to give Grimmjow better access. One hand moved around to stroke Ichigo, his reward for cooperation, and it didn't take long before he was coming, seed spilling over Grimmjow's hand and onto the sheets. He was going to have to change them later.

Grimmjow collapsed, spent, on top of him, his weight forcing Ichigo flat against the mattress. For a moment, they just lay there, breathing heavily and letting their hearts slow down.

"Wasn't there somewhere you had to be?" Grimmjow asked after a minute.

"Somewhere we have to be, and we're leaving as soon as you get the fuck off my ass."

"Might want some clothes first," Grimmjow laughed as he moved away. He stood, smacking Ichigo lightly on the ass before walking over to Ichigo's closet.

Ichigo sighed and stood. They were going to be late, and Rukia was going to know why.