Work Text:
In hindsight, she thinks, the way that everything has unfolded thus far really should have been entirely predictable.
With the blood war finally ended, the Quincies who had invaded and conquered their realm all slaughtered, and the throne room of Las Noches at last having walls on all four sides again, it was really only a matter of time until it would have happened one way or another— and every single occupant of the castle knew it.
So when the remarkable tediousness of peacetime inevitably forced Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez to begin seeking alternative methods for venting his wild and violent destructive tendencies, Nelliel tu Oderschvank (along with the rest of her fellow arrancar) was well prepared far, far in advance.
The first method— merely destroying things— doesn’t appear to prove satisfactory at all; regardless, a good amount of property is demolished at his capable hands (property that had, for the most part, just been painstakingly rebuilt) before Tier Halibel strikes him with a completely unexpected Gran Ray cero prior to calmly informing her fellow former Espada that the next time he breaks something, she’ll crush his skull underneath her foot and that will be that.
Her coolly spoken response had, of course, ignited a whole new conflagration entirely, but it also directly led into the next phase of his coping— or rather, his experimentation.
Unsurprisingly, it seems that provoking and attempting to fight almost everyone in sight is his immediate second impulse, and Nelliel really just wants to laugh until her sides ache at how utterly predictable he can be for someone with a reputation for being the exact opposite.
This method of venting his tendencies, however, winds up failing to satisfy him as well; for the lower level arrancar are all smart enough to avoid him so as to never give him an opportunity, and it only takes a few vicious beatings at the hands of Nelliel and Halibel (and even both of them simultaneously, once) for him to make the apparent decision that he needs to switch tactics again.
Of course, it’s around the time that he begrudgingly gives up on pursuing method number two— a decent number of years following the conclusion of the war, when Aizen is more of a fading memory than a mutual war wound— that Nelliel makes the grave mistake of getting further involved with Grimmjow.
It starts off as absolutely nothing at first— honestly, Nel isn’t even aware in the slightest when she unknowingly begins a chain of events eerily similar to a series of dominos toppling by simply starting to look at him with a little less disdain whenever he speaks, and subsequently he doesn’t completely tune her out anymore when it’s her turn.
But things spiral, as they so very often do, and soon enough Nelliel finds that she doesn’t have the urge to scowl when she hears his voice, and he has the revelation that he actually actively listens when she talks.
It doesn’t take long after that for the two of them them to slowly begin exchanging words beyond stiff greetings and mere formalities; he’ll humor her and ask about whatever book she might happen to be carrying around, or she’ll inquire about the progress of his training— meaningless conversation here and there, but tangible engagement between them nonetheless.
The thing about these kinds of spirals, though, is just how damn quickly everything can get out of control.
Because before she even has a chance to notice it, Grimmjow has developed an incessant habit of looking at her in a way capable of making the annoying hoard of butterflies that’s only recently taken up residence inside of her stomach begin to flutter, and conversely he starts to get used to being around the very elements that compose Nelliel’s presence; her spiritual pressure, her light scent, her soft voice, her overall calming aura.
It’s somewhat alarming for him, honestly, because the last people he ever let get this close to him were all slaughtered mercilessly by a handful of shinigami on one fateful night— one ending with a particular encounter that changed the entire course of his life.
She doesn’t appear to realize the immense amount of incredibly hesitant trust that he tentatively places in her, and honestly that’s perfectly fine given that he doesn’t seem to notice the gradually increasing level of affection that his ostensible companion harbors for him.
That is, not until Nelliel finally snaps and kisses him, anyway.
Because Grimmjow might be predatory, and he might be loud, and he might be impulsive, but it turns out that goddamn is he dumb as a brick when it comes to taking a hint, or two, or even three.
Maybe it’s because he’s never taken such interest in a particular woman before— or maybe he isn’t stupid at all, and he wanted her to make the first move because he’s so damn stubborn— well, whatever it is, she can’t even begin to determine given the way he tends to play games and mess around with her.
When she at last gives up on playing coy in any fashion and just kisses him out of sheer frustration, it’s done rather inelegantly by grabbing onto his face and suddenly closing her mouth over his.
Despite the abruptness of her movements, Grimmjow is quick to compensate for his utter lack of common sense by exhibiting his famed reflexes and the very next thing that she knows, he has her up against the nearest wall with one of his hands splayed out over her hip and the other pulling at her clothing to allow him access to her flesh.
And moments later, Nelliel swears she can actually see the exact moment when Grimmjow abruptly realizes that he’s conveniently stumbled upon what might just be a tentative third method for venting his many pent-up frustrations and impulses:
Torturing her.
Not in the literal sense, of course— although sometimes she does think the actual act itself might be less cruel than some of the games that he loves to play with her head and (metaphorical) heart. For his part, Grimmjow is thoroughly overcome with glee when method number three yields what he ultimately deems to be satisfactory results— hell, beyond satisfactory, even.
And so, Nelliel had gone and unwittingly made herself a perpetual target— for what, it really depended on both his mood and the day. Whether by his sword, his words, his tongue, or any of his other devious intentions and inclinations, she increasingly finds herself at Grimmjow’s mercy what she officially believes to be far too often; even more alarming, however, is just how much she enjoys it.
It’s definitely game over, though, when he makes her come for the very first time.
Because when they inevitably end up taking the last step in escalating their physical relationship and Grimmjow gets to finally watch her, observe her, really see her while her hips squirm and her body writhes as she makes all kinds of wanton sounds for him, her back arching, her muscles tensing, and her eyes squeezing shut while his name tears its way from her throat— the intense power high that he instantaneously feels rush throughout his veins is almost orgasmic in its own sick, twisted way.
Dismantling her piece by piece, he abruptly realizes, is its own odd form of destruction— one that’s slow, deliberate, and immensely satisfying (with the additional bonus of being wildly entertaining).
From then on, Nelliel loses count of the sheer number of times that he riles her up and then intentionally leaves her hanging, wracked with senseless need; the times that he teases her relentlessly until she’s almost desperate enough to beg, stubborn Espada-based pride be damned; the times that he makes sure to finish her off expertly, not stopping until he’s drawn every last twitch from her body; the numerous times that he gets his way over and over again, always with that insufferably handsome smirk surfacing upon his face before he indulges their mutual desires.
In the past, she vaguely remembers once wanting to laugh at how predictable he had seemed for someone who with a reputation for being the total opposite— and now, it appears that she’s doomed to eat crow for eternity.
Because now he’s made a game out of it; now he’s made her the object of venting his frustrations; and now it seems that he’s dead set on reminding her repeatedly just how very wild he is and how unanticipated his rash actions can be.
It’s been an incredibly tedious week so far, truth be told; total reconstruction of the castle in all its grandeur has long since been completed, and even being the staunch pacifist that she is, Nelliel can’t lie: she’s bored.
She’s bored, and that’s why she’s currently concealing both her presence and her spiritual pressure so she can shamelessly eavesdrop upon what appears to be some kind of formal introduction between Halibel (as the regal Queen of Hueco Mundo, of course, seated upon her magnificent throne and flanked by her loyal fracciones) and a rogue group of hollows seemingly seeking refuge at the castle.
…Or that’s what she’s telling herself, anyway.
The gathering doesn’t seem to be anything remarkably important or exciting, unfortunately, and she finds herself pouting slightly as a result; listening in on this certainly won’t do much to alleviate her boredom, so she resigns herself and prepares to retreat from the balcony upon which she’s hidden in the upper level of the throne room.
The kitchen— yes, the kitchen sounds nice, she muses to herself internally, her stomach perking up immediately at the thought of a sweet sugary snack.
The irony of that very thought is tangible given what comes next.
“You look good enough to eat,” Grimmjow murmurs, his mouth poised near the shell of her ear as he shamelessly snakes both of his arms around her slender waist. It might seem like he came out of nowhere to anyone else, but she had sensed him mere moments prior as he slunk out onto the balcony behind her.
“There are several new hollows meeting with Halibel down there,” Nelliel simply informs him in return, her body startling slightly at the sudden sensation of his hands sliding over her; despite his movements and sudden proximity, she keeps her eyes fixed upon the visitors below.
“Looks like it,” he replies apathetically before leaning down and pressing a burning kiss to her shoulder; the motion and resulting sensation forces her to bite down upon her bottom lip so she can contain what could either be a gasp or a moan. At the same time, his calloused right hand trails lazily down along her side, finding its resting place upon her hip.
It isn’t until his wicked fingers start to toy with the bottom of her clothing there that she realizes his obvious intentions.
Before she even has a chance to protest his brazenness, Nel can feel his skilled fingertips smoothly hooking under the edge of the singular garment that spans her torso; she shivers involuntarily as his other hand caresses the flesh of her inner thigh, and despite all of her reservations a surge of wet warmth leaks from her center.
Determined to stay as silent as possible so as not to be discovered or interrupt the crucial meeting below, Nelliel merely whimpers in response to his movements, her hand rapidly flying downwards to grab onto his wandering one. Grimmjow abruptly halts himself when her slender fingers rapidly enclose his wrist, his own appendages falling perfectly motionless but still lingering torturously upon the skin surrounding the hem of her clothing.
“Do you want me to stop?”
His question throws her completely off guard— frankly, she had never really thought him to be one who gave an out to others, not even to her. For what is not the first time, Nelliel has the fleeting thought that whatever this is, it might be something more than just Grimmjow venting his frustrations, and she is even more thrown off than mere moments before.
The thick tone of his voice when he makes his uncharacteristic inquiry manages to steal her breath away, and as a result Nel finds that she isn’t able to answer him immediately. After what seems like an unbearably long few moments have gone by, her hazel eyes flicker back downwards to land upon the individuals in the small assembly that is currently taking place below them.
“W-We could get caught,” is the extent of what she can manage to stammer, her face heating up at record speed and an all-too-familiar ache forming in the pit of her stomach.
The actual throne room of Las Noches is by no means dimly lit, but the situation is markedly different for the many balconies that loom far above the main foyer— like the one that she happens to be currently occupying with Grimmjow. While the shadows are long and the upper area of the room doesn’t have a single lit torch, she thinks to herself that if anyone in the group below just happened to look upwards, it would still be incredibly obvious what’s currently happening between them.
“Yeah, we could,” he merely murmurs in agreement, his own blue eyes shifting to fixate briefly upon the numerous hollows gathered beneath them. For a fleeting moment, Nel naively thinks she’s averted any kind of potential danger— until his head abruptly dips downward so he can place another searing kiss upon her neck.
When her partner speaks up once again, his lips move temptingly against her skin.
“Think you can stay quiet, Nelliel?”
There’s an obvious mischievous quality to his lowered voice and before she can formulate any sort of response, Grimmjow’s hand that’s been rubbing shamelessly over the soft flesh of her inner thigh begins making its own journey upwards— with only one possible destination. She draws in a long, shaky breath, her delicate fingers still wrapped securely around the wrist of his now idle arm.
“Do you want me to stop?” he inquires once more in a hushed voice, his other hand now poised dangerously near her center.
After a few long and still moments that are full of nearly palpable tension, Nel exhales raggedly and allows her eyelids to slowly flutter shut before whispering her answer to his question while simultaneously releasing his other wrist.
“…No.”
“Good girl,” he murmurs huskily by her ear, clearly pleased with her decision.
Grimmjow wastes no time sinking his sharp teeth into the pale flesh of her neck, and the amount of force that he puts behind the bite makes it so that Nelliel is positive he’s intentionally left his mark upon her. He takes her in, his mouth sucking teasingly upon the sensitive skin there; when he once again puts his teeth to use mere moments later, his companion is unable to hold back a barely audible whine.
“Shhhh,” he whispers up against her neck after withdrawing just slightly, and her entire body is wracked by a sudden shiver in response.
His wicked hand drifts up higher, and when his teasing fingers graze over the damp fabric between her thighs she can feel how very wet he’s already made her in so little time. An all-too-familiar unbearable pressure has rapidly started to gather and grow inside of her body, intensifying tenfold as he strokes her through her clothing.
Nel has to bite down on her own tongue when his fingers finally sneak under the hem of the garment, moving lazily over her skin while making their way towards her center; Grimmjow doesn’t hesitate to graze his index finger over her slick folds the very first chance he gets, and as a direct result she breathes in a sudden, sharp inhale.
The unanticipated sensation of him grinding his thumb up against her clit additionally leads to Nelliel’s body jerking in sheer surprise, and when she startles backwards into him she’s quick to notice something newly present and hard pressing up against her rear. The feeling of his fingers tracing around her entrance forces her to release a small gasp; when his index finger dips inside of her, one of her hands flies upwards to cover up her mouth entirely so as to prevent any more noises from escaping.
Grimmjow is ruthless, however, in that he immediately slides the appendage into her up to his third knuckle with little difficulty before beginning to maneuver it skillfully, stretching her taut walls around him.
Despite ongoing desperate attempts to stay quiet, yet another whimper escapes her— and even through her hand, the sound emerges from her lips far louder than she had intended. Her hazel eyes immediately snap wide open, and she thinks to herself that she has to stop this before the situation gets even more out of control—
But Grimmjow makes it abundantly clear that he has other ideas for the two of them, the hand that had fallen idle long ago rapidly flying upwards to grasp onto her jaw before sharply rotating her head towards him. Her glassy eyes land upon his visage, taking in his darkened eyes and lustful expression before he captures her lips in a crushing kiss.
Nelliel whines into his mouth, both of her hands flailing forwards until she’s able to safely wrap them around the carved stone railing in front of her that borders the edge of the balcony; every single one of her fingers immediately tightens their newfound grip upon feeling the sensation of him once again expertly curling his own index finger inside of her.
This time she explicitly moans against him as he strokes inside of her core, his thumb resuming its torturous habit of moving slowly around and against her swollen clit. To say the least, Nelliel is entirely overwhelmed as her partner pleasures her in this objectively outrageous situation; she’s started to tremble to the point that her long legs are shaking quite severely, and she suddenly finds herself extremely thankful for the railing that she’s clinging onto like she could go flying away at any second.
Finally breaking their desperate kiss at long last, he flashes a roguish grin at her before she feels the sensation of him beginning to sluggishly ease a second finger into her. Once it’s been inserted to his apparent satisfaction, Grimmjow skillfully begins to teasingly curl and crook both digits inside of her, and the pace of his thumb’s circular motions around her clit picks up speed.
Leaning forward so that his mouth is positioned nearby the shell of her ear, her partner rasps a certain something that makes her whole form freeze solid on the spot:
“I want to fuck you right here, right now.”
Both the sound of his dark, sultry voice and his openly voicing his carnal desires lead to Nelliel fluttering around his fingers in response, and there’s absolutely no way that he doesn’t feel it when she does. Confirming all of her suspicions, Grimmjow immediately adopts a taunting tone of voice while he continues to whisper in her ear, his tone hushed but undeniably heady.
“Oh— you like that idea, huh? I could fuck you senseless right here until I make you come for me in front of all of them.”
A desperate noise makes to escape from her lips due to the way that her center throbs and tightens as a result of his ministrations combined with his vulgar words, but it’s stopped short by one of Grimmjow’s hands suddenly covering up her mouth. He continues to stroke her relentlessly using the other, his now slick thumb pressing against her clit with increased force, and Nelliel ends up releasing the sound helplessly into his hand where it’s almost stifled entirely.
Grimmjow chuckles softly, obviously reveling in getting the opportunity to torture her this particular way, before murmuring into her ear as he mercilessly ups the speed of his movements:
“That’s it, Nelliel.”
The coaxing sound of his lowered voice, the sensation of him methodically working her with his fingers, the very real danger of getting caught— everything comes together at once in a particular indescribable way, and Nel finally falls to pieces.
All of her slender fingers tighten around the railing at once, and she’s unable to keep her hips from bucking backwards against him instinctively; the noises of pleasure that escape her as she reaches her peak are thankfully stifled by his broad hand still being stretched over her mouth, and the series of violent shudders that wrack her entire frame are what can only be called extreme.
Slowly coming down from the sheer intensity of her orgasm, Nelliel has been reduced to a shivering wreck at this point, the area between her trembling thighs a sticky wet mess and the pace of her breathing completely mangled.
Grimmjow hums in apparent contentment nearby her ear while she attempts to catch her breath, and as he does so he begins to move his thumb sluggishly in circular motions around her swollen clit once more. After Nel’s hips jerk against him purely out of reflex, the hand that’s been covering up her mouth departs from its perch and makes its way over to join his other, ceasing its movement close to the apex of her thighs.
“So— are you gonna stop me, princess?” he asks her in that trademark mischievous tone, quite obviously enjoying the hell out of this.
“Should I?” she inquires breathlessly, feeling entirely overcome by the impropriety of the current situation and still in an enduring euphoric haze.
His mouth has made its way back over to her ear at this point, and she shivers when he closes his sharp teeth over the lobe, gently tugging upon it before he continues with, “I don’t think you want to.”
Nelliel whimpers in a needy fashion as he takes her ear into his hot mouth, laving it with his tongue, and the sound draws another fond chuckle from her companion that originates from somewhere deep within his chest.
“I think you want me to fuck you right here,” Grimmjow says in a manner that is far too casual for the subject matter at hand. “I think you’re loving this— the fact that they could see us at any second.”
“And just how do you know th—”
His idle hand unexpectedly moves upwards to roughly grab onto one of her breasts through the tight material of her clothing and she is ultimately forced to cut herself off, covering up her mouth with one of her own hands once again in order to stop a pleased moan from escaping when his fingers harshly tweak a pebbled nipple.
Nelliel strengthens the grip of her other hand drastically upon the stone railing before her in a display of desperation; after managing to brace herself, she bites down upon her bottom lip, honestly not even able to wrap her mind around what’s happening right now. As he fondles her shamelessly, pinching and rolling her between his fingers, his other hand remains positioned by her entrance, resting beneath her clothing but completely still— and having him poised so close but not actually touching her is bordering on intolerable.
Bringing his mouth close to her ear once more, Grimmjow answers her interrupted inquiry in a low, teasing voice:
“I could tell when I felt you react earlier.”
She immediately makes to protest, a scorching wave of heat rapidly washing over her whole face, leading to her cheeks flushing a crimson hue— but at the moment, Nel has to admit that she can’t deny any part of what he’s saying.
Because for some reason, it’s a simple fact that the tangible danger of potentially getting caught in the act is heightening her level of awareness, and that in turn is greatly magnifying the sensation of his touches, making them feel like searing flames flickering over and upon her skin. The burning sensation is unbearable in all the right ways, and needless to say it’s doing nothing whatsoever to ease the growing pressure inside her body.
After a lengthy pause she finally admits, “I-I… maybe it’s a little exciting.”
Grimmjow makes a pleased sound at her confession, still toying with her ear when he responds.
“I’ll ask you again, then: can you stay quiet, Nelliel?”
“Grimmjow...” she starts slowly in a warning tone, knowing that he’s definitely bold enough to actually attempt it.
He doesn’t speak again right away, instead opting to take her earlobe between his lips again to suck before nibbling upon it playfully. Nel’s eyes are glued to the gathering of hollows below once more, but the way that the (completely insane) situation is affecting all of her senses is almost overwhelming and she’s ultimately unable to keep herself from making breathy sounds for him as he laves her flesh with his tongue.
“Do you want me to stop?” Grimmjow repeats his earlier inquiry to her before he falls perfectly still, all of his movements abruptly halted— and for some reason, his sudden lack of action scalds her insides just as much as (if not far more than) his actual touch did moments earlier.
Nel’s face flushes a pretty red color again as another severe wave of heat reaches her cheeks, briefly hesitating before licking her lips and murmuring another soft, “No.”
Her partner hums in a pleased fashion, and the way that his mouth is lingering nearby her ear makes it so that she can feel the resulting vibration. Grimmjow bites down upon her lobe prior to swiping his tongue over it once more, and Nelliel finds that she’s somehow unashamedly transitioned right from being euphorically satisfied to yet again growing increasingly aroused with each passing second; she whimpers needily, pressing herself against him once he’s positioned his hips behind her so she can feel his stiff erection.
Leaning forward and ultimately upon the railing, she meets his intense blue gaze for a brief period of direct eye contact before shyly turning away and then angling her hips out for him in an inviting fashion.
She doesn’t even need to be looking at him to know that Grimmjow’s face has split into a wide grin, and even though she already knows it’s coming, she’s still unable to keep herself from shivering when he leans forward to murmur in her ear:
“I hope you have one hell of a grip on that railing, tres.”
A flash of heat surges through Nel in response, her eyes darting downwards to land upon the group of people gathered below them; from behind her she can hear the rustling sound of his pants unfastening coupled with that of a zipper falling, and mere moments later she finds herself startling slightly upon feeling the blunt head of his stiff cock brushing up against her folds. She inhales shakily and allows her eyes to fall shut, bracing herself.
Grimmjow presses his length into her, groaning almost inaudibly as he gradually sheathes himself inside. Nelliel lets out an expertly muted but lengthy whining noise in response, captivated by the way that her muscles feel stretched around his girth— he’s thick and hard and perfect, just like he always is— but for once, it doesn’t seem like he simply wants to devour her whole; no, with those lidded eyes and gritted teeth, it’s clear that he’s savoring this situation.
As he begins to thrust into her, establishing a steady rhythm in no time at all, she pants raggedly and fortifies herself by strengthening her grip upon the railing while actively struggling to maintain any of her remaining faculties.
“They have absolutely no clue what’s happening up here.”
Nelliel exhales a sharp breath when both of his strong hands land on her upper hips and he increases the pace of his movements, but she dutifully refuses to take her eyes off of the meeting below, wanting to be prepared in case anyone involved somehow happens to look their way. As Grimmjow rocks himself against her like he doesn’t have a single care in the world, he continues on with his lecherous musing.
“I wonder what they’d think if they saw you right now. I bet they’d wish that they were me, getting to fuck you like this.”
Her breath hitches as his thrusts become slower, smoother, and more deliberate; she whines softly in an encouraging manner, pushing herself backwards to meet him. Nelliel is so set on matching his rhythm, in fact, that she almost misses it when one of the few unfamiliar hollows in the meeting beneath them wanders away from his apparent companions, beginning to survey the giant throne room around him.
“Look down,” Grimmjow orders her wickedly, clearly enjoying teasing her while the hollow below them observed the surrounding area with scrutiny. The stranger’s eyes suddenly flicker over the many balconies identical to theirs that are on the opposite side of the room, and she has to bite down hard upon her bottom lip to hold back a treacherous noise, tightening her already steel grip on the railing.
“I bet you anything that if he noticed us, he’d want to watch— at least until I made you come all over my cock.”
As a thoroughly overwhelmed Nel tries her hardest to contain the promiscuous vocalizations that are threatening to escape her lips while bucking her hips backwards upon him shamelessly at the same time, he whispers right into her ear teasingly:
“Is that what you want, Nelliel?”
The immense weight that he puts to her name sends a surge of heat coursing throughout her body and Nel can’t stop herself from releasing what amounts to a partially muted cry; immediately afterwards, her eyes dart downwards to the stranger wandering below, convinced that he must have heard her.
After a long moment of stillness on the mysterious hollow’s part informs her that he didn’t hear anything, Nelliel rotates her head to the side so she can shoot Grimmjow a sharp look— one that’s an extremely complicated mixture of equal parts indignation and arousal.
“You’re really enjoying all of this, aren’t you?” She huffs at him in an almost bratty tone of voice, her chest ablaze due to an odd combination of pleasure and embarrassment, her respiration choppy and mangled.
“More than you’ll ever know,” he responds breathlessly with a handsome smirk prior to immediately plunging his cock inside of her again.
She finds herself clenching around him, her muscles tensing at the pleasant intrusion, and her cheeks somehow manage to burn even hotter when he emits a low noise of evident appreciation. Grimmjow firmly fucks her with a steady but pleasurable tempo, his hips rocking against hers until she feels like all her insides have completely coiled up, wracked by constricted pressure that is desperate for release.
Of course, it’s at that moment that the strange hollow who was meandering about below suddenly moves once more, this time turning his head in their direction just slightly, and Nelliel freezes up entirely.
Nel is now quite literally frozen in place like a stone statue while hovering right on the precipice of her impending climax, completely horrified (and as a result, also terribly excited) that the two of them are about to be discovered fucking like shameless animals upon a balcony on the wall of the same room in which the Queen of Las Noches also happens to be conducting a formal meet and greet.
That single moment seems to last a whole century— until the hollow below eventually moves again, actually only shifting his position this time, but that much doesn’t matter; another bolt of electricity shoots through her body in response to his action regardless due to her growing excitement. Nelliel’s already racing pulse somehow quickens when she feels herself tighten around Grimmjow’s throbbing length further, and he groans out loud carelessly as a direct result while flexing his hips forwards, pressing against her.
“Fuck, Nelliel—”
Nel can’t help panting out a desperate reply to the pleased vocalization that he emits while simultaneously pushing himself inside of her as far as possible, her knuckles turning white due to her death grip on the railing and her voice a barely controlled whisper.
“Ah— Grimmjow, please, I'm close—”
Her hands’ grasp becomes what can only be described as ironclad when Grimmjow manages a wild grin at her before abruptly upping the pace of his movements, fucking her faster, pounding into her without any restraint. A traitorous cry escapes her lips in the heat of the moment, and her hazel eyes widen rapidly the split second after it does because oh shit, the two of them have to be caught now—
However, whether they are or aren’t, she can’t really be sure.
Because it seems that the combination of both the lustful sound she had made and the way her muscles grip his cock when yet another jolt of excitement courses throughout her entire body brings about the end of whatever little patience Grimmjow possesses. Cursing like a sailor into her ear and panting like a madman, he roughly grabs onto both of her hips with all of his bruising strength and begins to pump himself into her with powerful, rapid strokes, his intentions abundantly clear.
Nelliel is beyond any and all shame or caring now, rocking herself upon him desperately in hopes of deepening his access; she bucks her hips backwards relentlessly, impaling herself upon his length in tandem with his movements until she suddenly feels it— and then it’s like a familiar dam inside of her breaks.
Grimmjow obviously knows, because one of his hands abruptly leaves its perch upon her hip to fly upwards and cover the expanse of her mouth. Nelliel comes on his cock with astonishing intensity, her hips uncontrollably squirming and entire body burning with scorching heat as she tries her absolute hardest to silence and contain herself, shuddering violently while he continues thrusting into her methodically to extend her pleasure. Despite her best efforts, a few sensual noises escape her as she involuntarily twitches and writhes and loses herself, but they are thankfully stifled by his palm.
It doesn’t take long for him to finish after she does, his now desperate thrusts becoming more and more rough and unforgiving as she clenches and spasms around him until he releases a low, guttural groan and follows behind her. Nelliel is leaning upon the railing while shaking like a leaf, trembling with the aftershocks of her own climax when she feels the familiar sensations of both his pulsing cock and his warmth swelling inside of her.
All that she can really do in the aftermath is suck down as much oxygen at once while staying as quiet as possible, her entire head full of nothing but deafening white noise. After a beat, her hazel eyes snap wide open and she startles abruptly before redirecting her gaze down at the throne room below, only pacified upon noticing that the overly curious hollow who'd been wandering earlier has returned to his companions.
“Chill out,” Grimmjow murmurs into her ear in an outwardly amused but fond tone of voice, obviously somewhat winded as he rests his chin in the dip of her shoulder. “Nobody saw us, scaredy cat.”
Nelliel makes a huffy noise and hesitates for a moment before she acquiesces, and when her partner feels her relax against him, he snakes his hands sneakily around her waist once again. After a moment of silence, she finally responds to him with an exhausted and somewhat indignant sounding reply:
“Let the record show that’s only because I managed to stay quiet.”
Grimmjow makes a vague noise of acknowledgment before kissing her shoulder without a speck of shame, and the sensation scalds her flesh in the oddest way possible.
“Gonna have to try harder to make you scream next time, then.”
“‘Next time’? Grimmjow, no.”
The curve belonging to the telltale smile that she can feel crossing over his lips as they remain pressed against her skin tells her everything she needs to know about his response to her weak warning, and while she may briefly wonder to herself how the hell she wound up at this man’s mercy for a fleeting moment or two, the way that his strong arms hold onto her so securely and his warm breath tickles her flesh lulls her into a sense of security; a sense of warmth and ease; a sense of being cared for and attended to by what more or less amounts to her species’ equivalent of, well…
A mate.
That particular thought makes the entirety of her chest burn with a foreign sensation and leads to her cheeks heating up to a previously unprecedented temperature, and as a result Nelliel decides that for now she’s quite content with keeping that sentiment to herself.
For now, she’ll just enjoy the moment, and revel in whatever this may be that they have between them.