Warning - lemons. There's a move in here I highly recommend you get permission before trying, guys.

Chapter 20

Her lips were so cool, but they still burned against his. Her hands were colder, but they set his skin on fire, sliding under his jacket. Her eyes were like ice chips, but that did nothing to slake the fires inside, the fires she ignited. Vellena had stung him, pricked at his pride, and he responded. The urge, the need, to dominate, to prove he was still strong, was overwhelming.

Grimmjow hustled her into his bedroom, tossing his jacket aside. He unzipped her high-necked arrancar jacket, grinning as her breasts spilled out. No replacement bra. Good girl. She got her hands around him and loosed his sash; he rescued Pantera and set the sheathed blade down gently on the ground. Her swords joined it, laying on either size of his zanpakutō. He liked the image of her swords flanking his; like legs spread to receive him.

Her jacket, he finished removing, then got to work on her sash and hakama, sliding his hand down underneath the cloth to discover that she was naked there too. His hakama puddled at his feet and he stepped out of them, sending hers down to join them with a few quick manipulations of its ties. Fundoshi followed, freeing his already hard manhood to bob against her hips.

"I want to see you on your knees." He growled. He kept his promises, even if the circumstances weren't quite what he envisioned. This was what he needed right now. That feeling of power, of control, of knowing he was the one who called the shots. Vellena sank to the floor in front of him. The sight of her kneeling there, gazing up at him, lips slightly parted, made his cock twitch.

He didn't know if she knew what she was doing – she seemed a little ignorant (though pleasantly eager) about sexual matters – but he didn't care. She'd figure it out. He rubbed his cock against her cheek, his breath hitching at the feel of her cool, soft skin. He positioned it against her lips. Then he groaned as her lips slid over him, tongue flicking against his heated skin. She figured it out, all right.

Grimmjow watched her in the moonlight; watched how her cheeks moved and the muscles in her throat moved as she took him in. He felt her fangs – he'd seen a hint of those wicked canines of hers and forgot about them, the sudden reminder of their presence just about gave him a start. But his member passed unharmed beyond and through the cage of sharp teeth, deeper into her mouth. She sucked on him, bobbed on him. The sight of her, sound of her, feel of her sent the liquid heat of his lust curling in his gut.

"You can touch me," he purred. Calm eyes raised to his in a coy expression that just about made his heart stop with desire. She reached up, feeling the blue curls of his hair, running soft fingers on his balls. He closed his eyes in bliss, enjoying this. Then she ran a finger around the rim of his hollow hole.

Involuntarily, he thrust into her mouth, a ragged breath escaping his lips and his eyes going wide, his hand yanking at her hair with a touch more force than he intended. The hollow hole was the most sensitive part of any hollow, any touch caused enormous sensation. It amplified what was felt towards who was touching. To be touched by someone he was fucking, someone he desired, that was intense enough to make him lose control. He didn't want to lose control right now.

"Don't… touch me there right now," he managed to gasp. Her eyes glittered in acknowledgement as she took him deeper. Damn! He realized she completely lacked any gag reflex, and apparently didn't have to breathe either as she deep-throated his not-inconsiderable length.

He had to thrust now. She made no protest as he fucked her mouth, his hand guiding the back of her head. That sweet, familiar curl of pleasure was building in his innards. His balls were tightening. He groaned. One final push and he stiffened, releasing down her throat, and groaned again at the sensation caused when she swallowed. In the aftermath, he panted for breath, caressing the back of her head, looking down at her. She truly looked like a divine creature in that moment; covered in moonlight, eyes shining up at him, mouth full of his cock. A ripple of some unfamiliar emotion passed through his core for a moment, and then vanished.

He was done for the moment, but that didn't mean he was out of commission. Grimmjow smiled as he slipped from her lips, his grip going to her arm and pulling her up into a deep kiss. He could taste himself on her, smell the traces of his lust. It made him grin. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to hear her lose control again, from him, from his actions.

It was easy to usher her to the bed. They tumbled onto the soft surface, unable to keep hands and mouths off each other. He traced a trail down her chest and stomach with his lips, separating her thighs with a touch. At the end of the bed he bent over her, inhaling the heady scent of her. Normally she had very little scent, but when she was aroused… oh then, he could smell her. And he liked it.

"What are you—," he silenced her with a smouldering glance, still pleased with the fact that his eyes seemed to have so much effect on her.

"The only words I want to hear from you are my name, and maybe some begging," he said in voice that was half growl, half purr, baring his teeth in a feral smile. His hand gripping the underside of her thigh, he leaned in to her sex and ran his tongue through her already wet folds. He felt her shudder, heard her intake of breath at his action. She tasted of lust, just as good as she smelled. He loved it.

Languidly, he tasted her, enjoying the way she twitched and moaned at the touch of his tongue. He laved slow circles over her clit, then pushed his tongue into her. Her reactions were exquisite. He could feel her building, feel his own answering arousal. Letting go of her thigh, he brought his fingers into the mix. She was gasping, hips rising of their own accord to meet his movements. His mask fragment was scraping against the inside of her legs, but she seemed to not care. He liked the feel of her skin on the mask, the pressure and smooth softness.

His tongue returned to that sensitive nub, and he slid his fingers inside her. At the automatic tightening of her passage, he raised his eyes to hers and grinned hungrily, never stopping his tongue's dance on her. Past her heaving breasts, Vellena's almond shaped eyes were glowing slits, her mouth was open, panting, showing a hint of those fangs. He turned his attention back to his 'work', relentless in his assault. He knew she was close; he could feel it in her reactions, smell it and taste it on her skin.

He withdrew his fingers, but not for long. Bending his third finger inward in the position colloquially known as 'the shocker', Grimmjow turned his secret weapon on the prostrate Death Knight. He plunged into her, aggressively working her clit with his mouth. He didn't have to wait long for the payoff; his ears rang with her loud cries as he got her off, and her nectar spilled onto his hand, into his mouth. With a hiss, he removed his hand, cleaning it with his mouth. He let her come down, settle a bit, before turning back to clean her. When he had satisfied his thirst for her taste, she was already thrumming with need again. As was he.

He slid up beside her, naked flesh sliding against naked flesh. His once-more-erect cock brushed her hip like a searing brand. "Grimmjow…" she growled out his name in a voice heavy with lust, with demand. Her half-lidded eyes burned into his, and she leaned over him. With a smooth movement, she pushed him onto his back and slid onto him, impaling herself on his length.

He'd wanted to remain in control for all of this, but simply having inspired this kind of reaction proved his mastery well enough. Besides, the view rocked. Her heavy breasts bounced enticingly as she rode him, her strong, wiry form arching. Her body was limned in moonlight; a dark, long-eared silhouette with silver edging and blue slits for eyes. His hips rose up to meet her and he gasped, feeling the ripple of her inner muscles. Again his hand went to her thigh, gripping and relaxing and gripping again.

She leaned forward, hands beside his head, hips surging. The urgency with which she ground against him brought a chuckle to his lips, between harsh panted breaths. Her breasts pushed against his chest, her chin-length hair tickled his face as she leaned in to kiss him. As he heard her moan his name, felt her quake around him, felt her rhythmic gripping and the rush of her fluids over him, he closed his eyes and let the ecstasy come with a groan. "Vellena…" His voice was low and thick as he came.

They rested for a moment, then Vellena slid off him, making to rise from his bed. His hand shot out, gripped her wrist. He felt her stiffen. Please don't go… it was unthinkable to utter it. "Stay." He said, meeting her eyes in the dark, knowing full well she could see him just as well as he could see her.

With a soft sigh, the coiled-spring feeling evaporated from her and she returned to his bed. He kept his hand on her, lying beside her without speaking, trying briefly and failing to sort through the unfamiliar mix of feelings going through him on this night. She drifted off to sleep, and at last, he followed.