Warning: Sexual content

Either you were having a moment of extreme deja-vu, or there was a glitch in the Matrix. Yes, you were a freak for sci-fi films, and, no, this really wasn't the time to be making references. Your stomach dropped. Nerves. Excitement. Fear. Whatever you wanted to call it.

You slid off the couch and climbed to your feet, knees shaking. The TV remote clattered to the floor. Your eyes stung, dry, from staring at the blank slate of the door.

Grimmjow?

As though he'd heard your silent question, he knocked again. Loud. '_!'

It was the sound of your name that unlocked you from stasis. The fine hairs on your arms lifted as you crept down the hall, stirred by a heady mix of fear and Grimmjow's reiatsu. Your fingers brushed the cool metal of the lock, hesitated, then twisted it. Kido rippled across your senses as your touch unlocked the apartment's defenses. The door swung open from your nerveless hand.

Burning blue eyes met yours.

'About time,' he said.

He filled the doorway, tall, and somehow leaner in his new clothes. He slouched, head canted to one side, caught between the light of the moon and the glow of the streetlamps, painted in shades of white and blue and amber. You stared, feasting your eyes. Until now, you hadn't realised how desperate you were for a familiar face. He had new clothes: black jeans, white belts, new jacket, shoes, a shirt.

He frowned, mouth turned down at the corners. 'Are you just gonna stand there looking?'

Something snapped like a bowstring pulled too tight. Your fist lashed out, driving into his arm. He grunted in the back of his throat, rocked back on his feet, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Your knuckles screamed where they'd barked against his rock-hard muscle.

'You asshole!' you croaked, addressing both him and whatever part of your brain had thought it was a good idea to punch him. You cradled your fist, pumping healing kido into your battered fingers.

He cocked an eyebrow. 'That was stupid. Are you gonna invite me in or what?'

Words, insults, and demands for an explanation clogged in the back of your throat. Your tongue was heavy, limp, dry. Silent, you turned on your heel and marched for the kitchen. The faucet hissed as you turned it to the coldest setting and ran your bruised hand under the spray. Numb.

The rest of you felt numb too. As though too many emotions had clashed together at once. A paint-palette streaked with too many colours, all run together into a grey sludge.

You never even heard the door close.

Something solid pressed against your back, trapping your hips between the counter and itself. Heat, all along your spine. You stiffened, shocked. Large hands gripped your waist, slid around to your stomach, pressing you back. Hair tickled the side of your neck, the hard edge of a mask dug into your shoulder.

Grimmjow.

He cupped your chin, lifting it. The tip of his nose traced the edge of your throat, followed by a hint of teeth where it joined your shoulder. A low growl rumbled through his chest, vibrating through your body.

'I missed how you smell,' he said, nipping lightly at the edge of your jaw. Followed by a kiss.

Your knees had ceased to exist. You clutched the counter for support. Your skin itched and tingled where he pressed against you, your breath stuttered in and out.

'What the hell are you doing,' you demanded, trying, failing to keep your voice steady as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His hair tickled the side of your face. His hands slipped down to rub at your hips, just as he rubbed himself against your back.

He left, and came back. Left and came back. Like a stray cat returning to a familiar place. Never tamed…but he came back.

'Grimmjow,' you said, voice urgent, resolve crumbling as his lips pressed against the corner of your shoulder, revealed by your casual world of the living clothing. Tingles shot down your arm. 'Grimmjow.'

He huffed. 'What.'

'Where the fuck have you been? You just…left.'

'Tch,' he muttered, annoyed at having to explain himself. His hands skimmed restlessly up and down your sides, squeezing. His breath was hot against the back of your neck as he spoke. The faucet was still running, forgotten. 'I had shit to do. All of the others are gone, except Halibel and Nel. Should've known the girls would survive. The others were too fucking stupid.'

The other Espada. 'All of them, even Nnoitra?' you asked, stung feelings momentarily forgotten. Urahara hadn't had all the details about what had gone down at your former home, Hueco Mundo.

'Why, d'you miss him?'

You were startled into a harsh laugh. 'Hell no.'

'Hn. Good,' said Grimmjow. His fingers flexed against your stomach, his hips pushed against yours. Teeth nipped against the soft edge of your earlobe. You jumped, twisting your head around. His eyes were fierce, bright. 'Otherwise I might have to get jealous.'

He pulled back, grabbed your hips, spun you to face him, and shoved you back, crowding you against the sink once again. Face-to-face, chest-to-chest. He cupped the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. His grin was wide and cocky, putting dark depths in his eyes as he leaned over you, lowering his mouth-

Wait a fucking minute.

'What the hell are you doing?' You put a hand against his chest and shoved. He didn't budge an inch, but it felt better than just giving in. 'What makes you think you're welcome back here?'

His grin faded, replaced by a hard expression. He pinched your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted it back. He had your head between both hands. He filled your entire vision as he said:

'You chose me, woman. You came looking for me twice, you healed me twice, you let me fuck you twice.' His hips pressed more insistently against yours with that last sentiment, a growl undercutting his voice. 'Maybe I fucking liked it. You ain't too bad to have around.'

'Grimmjow…' you started, heart thudding hard beneath your ribs. Your fingers were nerveless where they clutched the fabric of his jacket.

'You're mine.'

The words chimed through you like the death knell of your resistance. With wide eyes you watched him lower his head. His nose brushed against yours before he canted his head to the side and then his mouth was on yours. Delicious pressure that left you like a puppet with its strings cut: limp. Caught between counter and possessive Arrancar -no longer Espada- there was nothing to be done but hold on.

The kiss was hot, hard, but not bruising. It lacked any anger, it blistered with heat, lust. Your eyes rolled back under their lids, your fingers digging into the wild, silky mess of his pale blue hair. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, creating a hollow ache low in your stomach. You struggled to breathe, huffing through your nose.

He pulled back with a curse, shooting you an irritated look. 'What?'

'Not here,' you said, fumbling to turn off the damn tap. Damn him. He'd barely been here for five minutes and you were aching for him. 'Bedroom.'

His eyes flashed. 'If you want,' he said, shrugging a shoulder. The same one he tossed you over as he turned toward your bedroom. He held you there with a hand planted squarely on your ass. He squeezed. You squawked in indignation, the sound transmuting into a startled gasp when his hand slipped between your thighs. His fingers found warmth and a growing dampness.

'Grimm-!'

'You're wet already?' he asked, voice rough with approval. His hard fingers rubbed you through the soft cloth of your trousers and knickers, teasing your super-sensitive flesh as he marched you inexorably toward the bed. 'That's it, baby.'

You didn't even comment on the pet name, too busy wriggling with helpless pleasure. Your feet kicked at the empty air, hands gripping the back of his belt as you tried desperately to orient yourself. He pressed harder, found a bundle of sensitive nerves, massaging in tight circles. Your spine stiffened, arching you upright.

'Fuck.' He snarled in approval, hauling you off his shoulder and tossing you down on the bed. The mattress was soft, welcoming your sudden weight without protest. He stood at the end, blazing blue eyes devouring the sight of you sprawled on the bed, waiting for him. You licked your dry lips. He tracked the movement, eyes narrowing, and cursed.

A flicker of sonido and you were pinned to the bed, a wild, grinning Arrancar leering down at you, his eyes full of sinful promises. You threw aside any last scrap of pride and grabbed two handfuls of his hair, pulling him down to your mouth. You needed to fill yourself with him, drown in him. In the time since he'd been gone, you'd woken up in the middle of the night, time after time, hot and shaking with the ghost of dreamt pleasure.

This was real. He was here. Arrogant, annoying, and here.

Bliss, caught between soft cotton and heavy male. His hips fell between your thighs, pressing right where you needed it, the length of his erection rubbing agaist your core through his jeans. You dug your feet into the mattress, sighing into his mouth. Kissing. When had he discovered how much he liked kissing? The last two times, it had been a contest for domination, a fight. Now, his tongue slid against yours, his teeth nibbled at your bottom lip, and there was a soft rumbling sound in the back of his throat.

Your toes curled, and you tugged at the back of his jacket, in sensory heaven. Sliding your hands under the white cloth, you felt the ripple of his muscles through his thin black shirt. His spine arched into your touch.

He peeled his lips from yours, only to reapply them under your jaw. Your eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as he sucked at the delicate skin.

'Grimmjow…' you murmured, wrapping your legs around his waist. His response was muffled in the crook of your neck, a wordless buzz against your skin. He bit the meat of your shoulder, quite gentle, for him. A nip of marking, claiming. 'Watch the teeth,' you complained.

He lifted his head and bared them at you. 'It ain't my fault you taste good, woman.'

His gaze shifted. Down. Perhaps he was remembering where else he liked your taste. Your stomach clenched with anticipation as he ran possessive hands down your body, over your breasts, culminating at the waistband of your pants. You reached to undo them, but he batted your hands away and did it himself. Your hips lifted to let him skim them off down your thighs, taking your underwear too. They vanished down the side of the bed. He let out a low groan of approval, dragging his fingertips up your thighs, encouraging you to open them.

You could almost see the thought burning behind his eyes. Mine. Mine, mine, mine.

It should have rankled, to be claimed. Your pride as an individual, as an adult, as a shinigami with your own powers (zanpakuto or not), should have been insulted. But…it felt like a lifeline. No-one wanted you in Soul Society; no-one wanted you in Hueco Mundo; only Urahara knew you lived in the human world.

Grimmjow wanted you.

And for now, that was enough.

Without warning, he hooked his arms around your thighs and buried his head between your legs. You hissed in surprise, back bowing off the bed. His tongue was a line of fire as he licked a broad streak up the centre of your sex. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs. He groaned in satisfaction, the sound oddly startling, resonant, from the centre of your body.

The edges of his mask bit at your hip as he licked, nibbled, and sucked your clit into the wet heat of his mouth with a grunt. He was animalistic, sloppy, and enthusiastic to please. It was a point of pride now. You were his, and he'd have you writhing and panting and screaming his name.

The upshot of it was a white-hot, thigh-trembling, toe-curling orgasm, with his long fingers flexing and curling inside you, his lips sealed tight around your clit, your thighs clamped around his head. He shot you a dark look at that, and pinned your hips to the bed. You hardly noticed, your muscles clenched tight as fists, your skin dewy with sweat.

You undulated against him, straining, as a ripple of heat seemed to pass through you. Your limbs unclenched in its wake. Your eyes opened, glazed from the climax; you looked down. A strong suck sent a fresh bolt of pleasure through you. He was still going.

'Grimmjow, stop…' you whined, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling. He shook you off, only to dive back in with dragging laps of the flat of his tongue. Before long, your head was canted back on the pillow, your lips parted, eyes half closed. The over-stimulation made you twitch and whimper, until another, weaker, orgasm shuddered through your body.

Only then did he pull away with a self-satisfied lick of his lips.

His grin was sharp, pleased. He sat on his haunches to unbuckle his belts, his gaze tracing the sweat-limned lines of your body. Totally bare from the waist down, your tank top pushed above your breasts, your hair sprawled on the pillow and across your flushed face. Your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath.

Clothing rustled, and then skin met skin. His chest -hard, scarred, muscular- pressed against you as he pulled you up against him, sliding you onto his lap, onto the rigid length of his cock. A moan left your lips.

'That's it,' he praised, nipping at your jaw. He grabbed your ass and lifted you a few inches, before letting you sink down. 'Fuck, kitten. Moan for me.'

It was only too easy to obey. He manhandled you with ease, lifting your sated body up and down himself, leaving him glistening with your arousal. You kissed his smirking mouth, pushing your tongue against his, completing the circle of connections that begun below.

'Grimm…'

When had he learned restraint? Your mind puzzled it over in the slow haze of building pleasure. He wasn't fucking toward a climax like the last two times. He knows he's got all the time he wants, you realised with a shiver. He could explore you and torture you all night long if he wanted, because no-one was hunting him, or you, and there would be more nights after this if he stuck around-

It was that thought that sent you over the edge again. A premonition of hot nights and lazy afternoons to come. Pun not intended. You clung to his neck, crying out your release as your insides tightened and rippled around him. His fingers dug hard into your ass.

'So damn…nng…' The last of his sentence was lost in a strangled moan.

He let you fall onto your back and leaned over you, braced on his outstretched hand. He nudged himself back inside, until his hips lie flush with yours. His head hung low, eyes electric blue, staring down at you as he drove into you with short, hard jerks of his pelvis. Each thrust was like a bolt through your highly-strung nerves.

Low grunts and pants filled the room, turning the air hot and damp between the pair of you. The bed creaked as he eagerly fucked you into the mattress. He grabbed your thigh and hauled it up over his broad shoulder, sinking himself deeper inside your body. Three hard thrusts and-

With a wild snarl, he threw back his head, back stiffening under your hands. His cock jumped and twitched inside you, filling you in a hot, wet rush. A shiver ran down his spine. He collapsed on top of you, warm and sweaty and heavy. His head nuzzled into your neck.

You lay there a few moments, glistening with sweat, pulse pounding in your ears. He rolled back his hips and slid out. Your nose wrinkled at the last twinge of pleasure. His hair stuck to your cheek as he lifted his head and stole a lazy, sloppy kiss.

'Get off,' you protested. 'Too heavy.'

He scoffed at you, but flopped over on his side. If you were hoping to cool down, worse luck, because he dragged you against him, running a possessive hand down your naked side. Hot breath brushed against the side of your face. He traced the tip of your ear with his tongue, then nibbled.

'Miss me, baby?'

You stared at him in disbelief, then gave his head a little push. 'S-shut up.'

A low, throbbing growl started in his throat as he buried his nose in your neck and inhaled. He threw a leg over yours, trapping you in his long limbs. You realised, with a start, what the sound was.

'Are you purring?'

He raised his head. 'Fuck, no!'

'Liar.'

'Shut up,' he growled, eyes flashing. 'Or I'll throw your zanpakuto back in the shithole I found it in.'

Surprise cut through the post-coital haze. You stared. 'You found-'

'Yeah. It's with that weird Urahara guy,' Grimmjow grumbled, his voice gaining an edge as his eyes trailed down your naked body. His hand on your side moved with purpose, sliding up to cup your breast. 'Now, c'mere.'