Alright, anyone under 18 had better just skip this chapter entirely. You know who you are. Oh and you should probably skip 12 too, for that matter.

I find it strange that as a society we are more tolerant of letting our teens be exposed to gruesome violence than depictions of sex between consenting adults. sarcasm Because seeing maimings and murder are so much more healthy for your mind than nookie. /sarcasm

Chapter 10

She had expected mockery for her defeat. He'd consistently demonstrated his irreverence for, well, everything, since the moment she met him. She didn't even think he respected his liege lord.

She hadn't expected to find him attempting to force his tongue past her teeth. Light, battle was some kind of foreplay for this blue-haired maniac! In attempting to draw a breath to make some kind of protest, she gave him the opening he'd been pushing for. He pressed his assault and made it past her teeth, grazing her lips with his own sharp fangs. His tongue met her own. The Espada's intense azure eyes were fixed on her own, flaring challenge.

For the first time in her unlife, Vellena was caught flat-footed in a battle she didn't know how to fight. And she was losing. With haste. The feel of his teeth as he tugged her lower lip sent jolts of an alien feeling through her. Pain she could withstand until cut down entirely, she could march for days without tiring, go without air for hours… but Grimmjow's hungry mouth, demanding eyes, and hard body pressed oh-so-insistently against hers (despite what had to be the uncomfortable impediment of her plate mail), evoked sensations she could neither fathom nor dispel.

Bewildered and defeated, she stopped resisting. A spark of triumph shone in his face, and he intensified his domination of her mouth. Then his free right hand clanked against her cuirass, and he made an annoyed grunt.

"Fucking armour," he griped, releasing her lips at last.

She could put a stop to this now, she realized. Her armour would have to be removed, and she doubted he could figure out how to get it off without her complicity, and it was too well made for him to easily destroy. All she would have to do was not cooperate, go cold again, and eventually he'd probably decide she wasn't worth the bother, right? Or freeze his nuts off. But now she wasn't sure she wanted to. The lack of intimacy in her unlife, she realized, was more from lack of opportunity than lack of ability to feel. She was able to find him attractive. Judging by the effort he was making to get in her pants, he felt the same about her. There was precedent in her own world. It— Sometime in the last few moments, Vellena decided that there was really no logical reason for her to stay celibate.

"Like this." She said, removing her hands from his grasp. She was a little surprised he let them go. Her gauntlets fell to the sand as she unfastened them, and then her pauldrons and belt followed. A few swift movements later, and her cuirass loosened. She pulled the metal shell away from her body, unsurprised when Grimmjow leaned back just enough to give her room and took the piece of armour away from her. It joined the rest in the cool white sand, landing with a soft sound, tassets jangling.

"This is why this shit is pointless," he said, "it just takes too long to get you out of it."

"The purpose of armour is to protect the wearer. It does that best when worn." She deadpanned.

"Yeah, well, it's damned inconvenient right now."

"I don't prepare for battle with your convenience in mind."

"Shut up and take it off." He snarled in frustration as he fumbled with her cuisses. She almost smiled, wondering once again what the hell she was doing. There would no doubt be unexpected repercussions to giving in to Grimmjow. But then again, there would be repercussions to denying him (and herself) as well – she did not doubt that her stay would be far less comfortable if his desire for her was transmuted all the way over into aggression at her continued refusal. And yes, she wanted this. That was no small thing to discount.

Most of her armour was in the sand now, with just the bracers and sabatons left on her body. It seemed he was content to ignore those for now. Once more, he pressed her against the wall, lips crushing against hers in a bruising kiss. His hands traced her sides, coming to rest on her hips. Free of her armour, she could feel his defined chest pushed against hers, feel the heat radiate off him, feel his hardness even through his white uniform and her thick padded breeches. His eyes were half lidded and smouldered with feral intensity. Every part of him was limned in fierce primal beauty; even that jaw fragment on the side of his face seemed so appropriately a part of him, even the sweat-stiffened peaks of his sky blue hair were perfect.

Momentarily unable to bear his burning gaze, Vellena closed her eyes. This was more feeling than she had experienced since death. Surely it was too intense; surely she could not bear this. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, biting as he ground his hips against hers insistently. Hands crept under her padded shirt, sliding up her taut stomach, encountering the simple bra, which he tore away, letting it drop from her shirt. He found her nipples and squeezing them hard. She was aware of pain, distant and dull. It did nothing to cool the desire she felt – if anything it fanned it higher. Her breath hissed past her lips at the feel of his sharp teeth against her neck; his tongue, his lips, his hot breath.

So much sensation! Her hands, seemingly of their own volition, were tracking across Grimmjow's muscular back, conveniently exposed by the short, open jacket he insisted on wearing. The edges of her fingers brushed the lip of the hole through his body, and she felt him shudder all over, heard him groan hoarsely, his teeth driving into the point where her neck met her shoulder. She let her fingertips linger there, savouring the intense heat of him, surprised that she could incite so much response with just a touch. Curious, she ran her index finger along the inside.

His reaction was immediate. His whole body jerked, crushing his hips against her and pulling his head back. His teeth were clenched tight on some kind of guttural moan, and his eyes were focused on something nonexistent. They came back to her, intense and wild. He groped at her padded shirt, snapping the leather ties effortlessly, pulling the short-sleeved garment roughly from her body and tossing it away. She managed to save her breeches from the same fate by undoing the fastenings before he could tear them. At her hurried movements, he grinned.

"Can't wait, huh? Well don't worry. I don't intend to keep you waiting." The Espada's voice was rough with lust. He stepped back for a moment, a few quick movements loosing his belt and skirt-like pants. They slid down his legs into the sands below. He reached for her underwear, handily destroying the flimsy garment and flinging it viciously away. Unwilling to let him have the last say, she tore away the simple white covering that hid his sex. She was pleased to note that he was indeed a natural blue. And he was quite rigid and endowed in proportion to his stature, which was to say, not inconsiderable, even to Vellena's untutored eyes. Her hands grazed his hips hungrily. She bared her teeth, struggling with the intense and unfamiliar feelings of desire he invoked.

Chuckling at her expression, he leaned in to her. The feel of his skin against her own was extraordinary. He was fire to her ice. With a hand tangled in her hair, he bit her neck again, hard and fast, then his hot lips were on her ear, jawbone fragment scraping against the sensitive flesh. "I'm. Going. To. Make. You. Come. Screaming." He hissed, voice low, before biting the long lobe. Involuntarily, she shuddered, letting go a hoarse gasp.

Still grinning, Grimmjow insinuated his knees between hers, pushing them apart. His hands gripped her thighs, one straying between her legs. She stiffened as he cupped his palm against her mound, curling his fingers to slide between the swollen, slick lips. Her mind struggled to reconcile the unexpected onslaught of feeling. His touch felt good, amazingly so. This was better than she had ever thought to experience in the remainder of her blood-soaked existence.

"Perfect," he purred lowly, then hitched her up the wall, pulling her legs around his waist, and thrust into her with one powerful stroke.

"Gnng~" she exclaimed, arms wrapping around his torso as she instinctively arched her back to meet him. He plunged deeper, stretching tissues unused to this intrusion. She'd thought she felt good before – this was something else entirely. The distant ache of pain combined with the incredible erotic sensation to make her gasp out in pleasure. The night elf's eyes lit on Grimmjow's face. His eyes were closed and his teeth were bared in a cat-like expression of bliss. One strong hand gripped her buttocks firmly before coming to rest against the wall for support.

"Tight," one word was all he could seem to manage right now. His eyes fixed on hers, his lips curling in an expression of possession, of triumph. She tightened her grip on him, legs locking behind his hips. She felt the muscles of his back ripple as he began to move, driving hard into her with a grunt of exertion. She panted, open-mouthed. Her nails dug into his back.

He fucked her mercilessly up against the walls of Las Noches and she loved every torrid second of it.

The lust-filled groans that his hard thrusts coaxed from her lips only seemed to fuel him further. He crashed into her like a wave, and she felt something build as his restless hands roamed her skin, finding points of sensitivity and pleasure she'd never imagined. Something was going to happen; some new, long forgotten feeling was going to break loose inside her and overwhelm her. At any other time she might have been horrified by the loss of her composure and control, but now, now, she gave in to the demands of her body, of his.

Grimmjow seemed fully aware of what was coming. He altered his pace to something long and drawn out, clearly intent on evoking particular responses. He was a master at his work. She'd been a tool all her unlife, but never had she been wielded so skillfully as by the wild man between her legs. Nor had she ever enjoyed it so. Her long moan when he twisted her nipple invoked an answering growl from him and an almost uncontrolled thrust.

She felt like the tide itself was in her blood. "Say my name." Grimmjow demanded in a hoarse voice, mouth brushing against her ear.

"G-Grimmjow." She stammered, unhesitatingly, then cried out as he slipped particularly deep.

"Again!" he hissed.

"Grimmjow—nng!" she gasped. He was finding something deep inside her, something she never knew existed. Her glowing eyes flickered as her lids fluttered.

"Again!" his grip tightened on her, and he bit her neck again, in the same place he had bit before. He pounded into her; strong, deep thrusts. She moaned loudly, a ragged, drawn out sound.

"Grimmjow! Grimm-aaah!" Her attempts to say his name ended in the promised screams as she exploded, shuddering in his arms.

"Oh gods, yes!" he cried out, then crushed against her tightly, biting and taking her hard and wild. His breathe came in roaring gasps. Her tide crested, and held, as she felt the liquid, erotic heat of him flowing into her. For an eternity, she felt like a goblin explosive peaked perpetually at the point of eruption. He shuddered to a halt, panting and not loosing his grip on her in the least. The terrible, glorious feeling began to fade, being replaced with a kind of deep lassitude and contentment that she had not expected.

So. This was what she had been missing out on. She was a fool to have held out so long.

For a moment, they just leaned against the wall together, still tangled up in each other. He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr. Then they disengaged, her famed night elf agility almost failing her in the aftermath of the fucking they'd just given each other. But she managed to resume her feet without falling down or swaying too much, even if she did feel a little unsteady. He looked … battered and cut up, but extremely satisfied. She realized they were both still covered in countless minor wounds (though the diseases had faded) – somehow that hadn't made an impact in the activities they had just participated in. Grimmjow had to be the strangest person she'd ever met.