"...I Will Find You"

“Wake up,” Orihime heard his deep voice command, at the same time feeling the tip of his solid boot prod her side.

“Mmrrrgffff,” she said smartly. She pulled the thin blanket over her head, blocking Grimmjow out and hoping he got the hint.

The blanket was whisked away in a single, breezy movement.

“Eee!” she squealed unhappily, jolted by the frigid desert night air. She had been using her jacket as a pillow, therefore her arms and shoulders were bared to the cold.

“Get up, Princess!” he scolded, the derision evident in his tone. He hated her dallying even more than he hated her humanity. Mornings with this chick were impossible.

“Griiimmjooowww!” Orihime whined. The Hollow raised his lip in a disbelieving sneer when he watched her roll on her side toward him and across the stone floor, landing atop his shoes. She wrapped her whole self around his ankles as if she could leech heat from there, tangling herself in the flimsy sheet again. His left brow ticked.

Nearly tipped off-balance by her clinginess, he bent over to try and detach her. She was stuck fast. He wasn’t quite annoyed enough with her to use any of his brutal strength, much to her good fortune, so she continued playing up the silly moment.

“You’re already awake, stupid. Getoffa me and stop wasting the day away.” He sounded like such a parent, she thought through her muddled morning reasoning.

“Nuh-uh,” said her muffled voice from within the billows of his hakama. As much as she would rather be asleep right now, she could not help the slight giddiness that was bubbling up within her. Grimmjow would never have let her get away with behavior like this before, she thought as her mind cleared some.

“You’re such a little turd,” he said, and she almost thought she could trace a note of affection in the insult. She peeked up at him with one eye as he lowered himself to a seat, realizing he didn’t quite care if he extricated himself or not.

When he noticed she was making eye contact, he raised a single brow as if to ask her to kindly get the fuck off. His gaze glinted with playfulness, though, and her own eye creased with a smile at the challenge.

The butterflies were fluttering wildly in her stomach. She recognized quite readily at this point that she was undeniably flirting with Grimmjow, and maybe had been for a while now. It was all innocence on her part, but the nervous patter of her heart forced her to examine her own behavior for exactly what it was. The fact that he allowed it, though, was igniting this endless desire in her for more.

But this was Grimmjow, she reminded herself. She buried her face once again in the mix of fabric before her.

Orihime bit her lip before finally unwrapping herself from around his ankles. She stretched languidly as she tried to ignore these feelings, forcing her mind back down to earth and out of the clouds filled with thoughts of what certainly could not be. Schooling her expression into one of neutrality instead of attraction, or – dare she think it – disappointment, she finally sat up to begin the day, nearly hip-to-hip with the Hollow as she reached her arms to the ceiling.

He glanced away from her, and the movement was so abrupt that she could not help but think there was a reason for it. She looked around him to find what might have caught his eye.

“What?” she asked in curious inquiry. She saw nothing.

When she returned her gaze to his face, Orihime froze.

Grimmjow was looking at her again from beneath hooded lids and thick eyelashes, but this time all of the playfulness was gone. It was instead replaced with something else, something foreign that she had been catching on his face more and more often. It was the kind of look that took her imagination to raw dimensions it was not accustomed to, and she could feel it scorching her body from her head to her toes, to other places she’d rather not think too long about.

She felt her throat tighten and her tongue leaden as she looked up into his eyes, braving their intensity in order to see this moment through. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but she knew it was significant. His lids were half lowered and his pupils were somewhat dilated, softening the usual iciness of his irises.

Her heart pounded with such an intensity that she could feel each individual ba-dump as it blasted heat through her ears and throat and cheeks. She felt lightheaded as she scanned his face, the snarling chunk of bone on his cheek less intimidating than the gentle pout of his lower lip, only slightly parted as she caught a glimpse of the straight white teeth they hid. The heat was coiling low in her belly, and the butterflies fluttered high, telling her that instinct wouldn’t lead her astray no matter what her brain was trying to tell her right now.

He was close. She did not realize it was happening until he was already right there, and by that point it was like she was caught by gravity or something.

His name was on her lips like a whisper of leaves.


Her voice was like the toll of a clock breaking the spell. Grimmjow blinked once, his eyes roving her face as if just realizing where he was. His frown deepened, and his gaze hardened with what she could tell was self-reproach. His pupils constricted again, drowning his eyes in coldness contained by the darker outer ring of his irises. He leaned back and away from the young woman before him.

He was stopped short when he felt the tug of her small hand on his sleeve. Her strength was insignificant, but at that moment her pull held all the power in the world over him. He watched the ivory grip of her fingers in the fabric of his jacket, then slowly returned his gaze to her face and filled his expression with earnest warning.

“Don’t,” he breathed, staring at her lips.

“Why?” she asked just as softly, distracted as she drew closer to him.

“Because.” But that was all the argument he could drum up as suddenly, her lips met his like the touch of warm, silky-soft petals.

They were gentle and sweet and everything he’d ever imagined them to be, and he’d certainly been imagining them a lot lately. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, the lids sinking shut as she absorbed the sensation of her lips against his.

He was still cool to the touch just as he’d always been, but his mouth was soft and pliant against her own as she kissed him. She tilted her head slightly to the right, pulling herself closer with her grip on his jacket. She wanted to touch his hair. She wanted him to touch her hair. Or something. She wanted so much that she didn’t know what exactly she wanted.

Then she felt him growl from deep within his chest, the noise like the purring of a huge predator, as one large hand came up to grasp her waist, wrapping itself around and locking her in the grip of his arm. She was radiating enough heat for the both of them, she was sure.

Her hands came up to rest open-palmed on the lapels of his jacket, her fingertips grazing the smooth skin beneath. She could feel the ridges of his collarbone and muscles and perhaps even that gruesome scar that blossomed from his center that she always meant to ask him about. She was afraid to explore more, but little did she know that her hesitant touch was a tickling stimulant to the exposed skin there, and he turned to lean over her, his arm around her waist tightening in an attempt to bring her closer and nearer and to devour her.

With a gasp, she felt him manhandle her completely, towering over her much smaller body as his lips parted against her mouth. Her hands traced up the column of his neck, her thumbs tracing the underside of his jaw as they wrapped around to behind his head. She braced her forearms on his shoulders as she buried her fingers in the feathery strands of his hair, holding on for dear life as he supported them both with his other arm on the ground.

His teeth swept her bottom lip, and soon the tip of his tongue tasted where those teeth left off, molding and folding and learning her just as he’d denied himself for weeks now. He was certain the little mewls coming from her throat were completely involuntary, and that she’d be mortified if she realized she was making them. In the meantime, though, he was obsessed. He was having trouble remembering himself. Why the hell didn’t he allow this to happen sooner? He kneeled before her, bent over as he consumed her. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever desired someone as much as he did this girl in his arms right now. His world narrowed, and in his tunnel vision he forgot everything about himself but this woman. This human. This gorgeous, powerful, innocent, living thing who just kissed him is kissing him-

A deep, monstrous rumble rolled through the network of ruins. Bits of stone and plaster crackled from the ceiling to the floor.

Orihime blinked a few times as she regained sense of her surroundings. The two pulled from one another, still close enough for their short breaths to intermingle, her one hand still buried in his hair. She'd wanted to touch it for so long, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. She had always likened it to blue cotton candy. His arms were still wrapped around her back, pressing their bodies close together while the other supported them both. He was looking down into her eyes, expression clouded with lust and frustration as they heard another bellow echo all around them. It was coming from outside the complex.

"What is that?" she whispered, mouth barely moving as she voiced her question. There was no need to speak too loudly with him so close.

There was a pause as she watched him slowly collect his faculties, that glimmer of ever-present calculation returning to his eyes. He finally let loose a feral growl in response. "It's fucking dead meat, is what it is," he hissed, and she felt his deep voice rumble through her chest as it continued to press against his own. She couldn't help the upward quirk of her lips at the frustration in his tone. His own thinned at the amusement trickling into her expression. "What?" he barked softly at her.

She kept up her silence and merely shook her head slightly, indicating it was nothing. His upper lip quirked in annoyance and she started to pull away, detangling her fingers from his locks and knowing that the threat outside was the new priority. He reluctantly started to sit up, lifting her with him. She felt the pressure of his large hand span nearly her entire back, and as the moment died, she quickly began to fear the repercussions of what they had just done.

Then, with a nudge and a hand on her face, Grimmjow was kissing her again, stealing her breath away.

He moved away from her with a smirk, the tiny sound of their lips parting satisfyingly audible in the otherwise silent chamber. He stood, picking up Pantera from its resting place in the corner of the room and making his way to the entrance. Before exiting, he turned and looked her square in the eye.

"Stay. Here." He looked at her pointedly, though she wondered if he was capable of sentences longer than a word at this point. She thought he might be adjusting his hakama more than necessary just for his Zanpakuto. "This won't take long," he growled under his breath.

She nodded, and he made his departure.
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