Author's Note:

Feline Antics will be a collection of one-shots varying in length and content, all about the most brillopads pairing in the series ! The chapters won't really link with each other (unless stated otherwise) and won't follow any kind of order. As I'm sure you've probably twigged, the chapters will be somewhat inspired by cat sayings and proverbs for reasons absolutely unknown. :P

Hope you like and reviews are love!

Title: Cat Got the Cream.

Summary: Orihime gets creative in the kitchen and Grimmjow's interested.

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: Nada except for odd bits of lingo ... some sexual themes.

Genre: Romance and Humour

Rating: T (Ish. I tried not to be too graphic but this one could be more NC-17)

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or the amazing characters; all credit goes to the brilliant Tite Kubo. Nor do I make any money from these ridiculous plots.

The air was thick with the rich aroma of Orihime's chocolate sauce as it bubbled away happily, simmering on the stove. A rather daunting mountain of cream-filled choux pastry spheres sat close to the animated pot, and the basin in the sink was overflowing with various pieces of cutlery and crockery, all drowning in murky water.

Orihime had been cooking.

Despite her reputation of producing mad concoctions you would have to be crazy to sample (unless you were a certain busty strawberry-blonde lieutenant), Orihime had prepared a fairly normal desert – having become fed up with the uninteresting food originally offered. Orihime had baked profiteroles. They actually looked how the recipe book's picture had looked, from a distance, but closer up, the golden orbs were actually terrifyingly huge - as in dinner-plate huge.

Practically covered head to toe in flour, the infamous cook had only just managed to remove the worst of the chocolate sauce from her auburn hair, having been coated in the dark sticky liquid when it became far too hot and spat at her. Orihime, however, felt somewhat proud that she had been able to whip and mix the vanilla cream filling while keeping most of it in the bowl.

Of course, filling the profiteroles had been a different matter. Typically, Orihime had been unable to find a piping bag in the kitchen of Las Noches, so she had to improvise with baking paper and tape. As long as she didn't overfill the bag, all was good, but unfortunately, putting more than two teaspoons of cream into the bag counted as overfilling it. By being uncharacteristically careful, Orihime managed to limit the damage to just her hands.

Orihime washed her hands and was once more clean (ish) and eyed up the stack of washing-up to do. Sighing, Orihime noted that the bowl she had made the cream filling in was still virtually half-full. Not one to waste such a treat, she set herself one the countertop, spoon in hand, and began the tremendous task of 'cleaning' the bowl.


He'd heard of Orihime's laughable cooking reputation, so after discovering that she was experimenting or killing time or whatever she called it in the kitchen, Grimmjow had to investigate. He was expecting an onslaught of toxic aromas, a foggy atmosphere even he couldn't see through, or at least the hot little thing covered in ash, but Grimmjow was disappointed to see nothing particularly catastrophic. Well, perhaps the Espada would have been if his attention hadn't been drawn to the cute little red-head currently sat on the counter, oblivious to his intrusion.

For once, blue eyes didn't gawk at her feminine form and his mouth didn't dry at the sight of her; no, this time, his motionless state was due to what the girl was holding. His nose twitched as Grimmjow absentmindedly sniffed the air and his heightened sense of smell detected the irresistible scent of cream.

Like a moth is drawn to the flame, Grimmjow approached Orihime, cerulean eyes on the bowl of fluffy cream. It seemed that only when he was directly in front of her that she actually noticed his presence.

"Oh!" Orihime startled, dropping her spoon into the bowl and managing to get cream all over her hand.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" Grimmjow demanded, not wanting the girl to catch on to his fixation.

"Umm, Ulquiorra said Aizen-sama said that I could use the kitchen when I wanted to, so long as I don't demolish it." Orihime spluttered.

Grimmjow really wasn't listening; he was far too occupied by following her cream-topped finger with an eager gaze. Just as Orihime opened her mouth to voice her curiosity, temptation got the better of Grimmjow and he leaned forward and licked the cream straight off her finger, completely startling the girl.

Temporarily satisfied, Grimmjow lifted his eyes back to Orihime, who had gotten over her shock and was now trying to control a fit of giggles. He glared at her before he picked up her dropped spoon and took over her earlier task.

"Hey, no fair! Don't eat all of it!" Orihime whined. Her complaint was cut off when Grimmjow shoved a cream-topped finger into her open mouth, successfully silencing her. Shocked silver eyes slowly became coy as Orihime moved her tongue very slightly to lick the tip of his finger clean, an action which completely distracted the Espada.

"So what the hell you got cookin' then?" Grimmjow asked in another attempt to hide his reaction to the cream; 'and the fuckin' girl'.

When his wide azure eyes finally focused, they were drawn to a dollop of cream that Orihime had managed to attract just to the left of her mouth; the very mouth which was still making Grimmjow's eyes want to roll right to the back of his head. His eyes closed when Orihime slowly pulled her lips back over his digit, and when he opened his eyes again, they fixed on the drop of cream marring her pretty face.

"I made profiteroles." Orihime finally answered, her quiet voice as innocent as always. When she met his intent glare, she assumed that the Espada's impatience was quickly turning into irritation and Orihime hesitated as she thought how to continue. "Well, they take a long time to make and can be quite tricky. It's just I just get so bored around here and I needed a distraction," Her whispered response came.

This time, Grimmjow certainly wasn't listening as all of his interest was fixed upon that spot of cream. Naturally, the idea that it could be taking things a little too far made it even harder to ignore. The finger that had all too recently experienced the wonders of her mouth was now twitching to remove the drop, whereas other ideas seemed more inviting.

Orihime repeated herself presuming that Grimmjow hadn't heard her hushed reply and, this time, blue eyes flashed to her silver eyes in brief recognition.

"Sounds like a shit loada' work to me," He muttered whilst trying to keep his voice steady as the fight to keep control became harder to win; 'can't even keep my fuckin' eyes off that one delicious splotch'.

Eventually, temptation won out in his head and Orihime suddenly felt Grimmjow's tongue licking her cheek, teasingly close to her lips. The feeling of his tongue caressing her skin surprisingly gently made her gasp blissfully and when the moist muscle accidently caught the very corner of her mouth, Orihime could have sworn her heart performed summersaults.

Grimmjow pulled back, smirking, but Orihime was too shocked to notice and she only regained control of her thoughts in time to see Grimmjow swallowing. Realising he'd probably just cleaned up a bit of cream (albeit in quite an odd way), Orihime felt embarrassed that he had been able to knock her off her metaphorical feet just by licking her face.

As Orihime's cheeks flushed a beautiful cherry-red, Grimmjow offered her another cream-topped digit and was pleased to see her instantly take his finger into her mouth. He had to suppress a growl, however, when he felt Orihime suck lightly on the tip.

Orihime knew instantly that she was having a similar effect on him as he did on her if his reactions were anything to go by. She found herself rather fond of his smile, a smile not conquered by psychotic violence, but one owned purely by pleasure; she was intrigued when his eyes shut and his brows furrowed as he tried to remain tense.

While she removed his finger again, Orihime discretely placed a bead of cream on her lower lip and waited for Grimmjow to open his eyes and take the bait. She was not disappointed as her lure had successfully enticed him to her lips and as soon as she felt his tongue slide across her appendage, Orihime grasped the back of his neck with both hands as she pulled the Espada into an eager kiss.

She had always tempted him, constantly teased him without even trying. Ever since she had returned his arm to him, shown him how different she was, how special she was, he'd wanted to know more. Not many days had gone by when he hadn't been distracted by her presence or went out of his way to be closer to the enigmatic girl; even less nights had gone by when his mind had not been flooded with far too real images of the human's touches.

Yes, she had always tempted him, but he had kept control. But now, Grimmjow lost all control to Orihime. He wanted her; he needed her; and damn it, he would have her. It seemed that that small drop of cream cost Grimmjow all restraints.

Despite how much he wanted her, Orihime's eagerness abruptly outdid the Espada's. Her suddenly keen hands pulled him close against her body and her legs wrapped around his waist; by this point he'd only just decided that gripping her back was a good idea.

Grimmjow groaned into her kiss when he felt her unexpectedly confident fingers drag down his torso, teasing him slowly. The Sixth felt her smile against his lips before her probing tongue made its way into his mouth, surprisingly overruling his.

The human girl managed to distract the powerful Arrancar by biting playfully on his lower lip, successfully startling him when he realised her hand had slipped into his hakamas. Blue eyes simply widened at her coy smile as her mouth left his lips, seeking the sensitive flesh of his neck, kissing and nipping along its way.

Her teasing stroking movements joined with her tongue's caresses along his pulse point on his neck had Grimmjow leaning his head back, growling with pleasure. He inadvertently mirrored her hand's actions with his hips, ardent for more friction.

He dragged his hands down her back, needing something sturdier to grip, only finding the edge of the countertop. Grimmjow could feel the marble crack beneath his clasp, not that he paid much attention: Orihime's ministrations were far too distracting.

The Espada felt his eyes pop open when Inoue's blunt teeth bit into the skin of his throat, simultaneously holding him that little bit tighter. Grimmjow knew his character was completely out of role, exactly like Orihime's, but he was powerless to resist when that God damn hand moved faster.

Grimmjow was all too aware of the deep indentations on the kitchen counter, but he didn't care at all. Not when Orihime sucked on his now red neck while pumping him forcefully. The incredible sensations upon his person caused his body to shudder, a response which only made the girl more eager.

Orihime's spare hand forced his pleasured body closer to her, almost instantly feeling the Espada in her hands grab hold of her waist impossibly tight as the movement of his hips became jerky, out of sync with her pleasurable strokes.

Grimmjow lost all restraints as Orihime's burning hand forced his groan of ecstasy along with his explosive release. He simply stood between her legs, panting heavily as she brought her hand to her lips, once again cleaning her messing fingers. Had he not been thoroughly satisfied, the truly erotic sight would have had him drooling on the spot.

With an innocent sounding giggle, Orihime hopped off the counter to Grimmjow's side before she stood on her tip-toes to gently kiss the red blotch on his neck. The girl then progressed to wash the various pieces of crockery and cutlery that were now stewing in murky, cold water.

Grimmjow still hadn't caught his breath when Orihime began moving around the kitchen, cleaning the flour clouds away. He barely reacted when she nudged him out of her way playfully to clean the surfaces he was blocking. It was only when she cocked her head to the side after seeing the obvious dents in the marble that Grimmjow responded to his surroundings at all.

He felt his cheeks flush at the physical evidence of his lack of control, and although no others would know what it meant, the idea that everyone who used the kitchen – which meant anyone else around here who liked eating – would see the impressions embarrassed him.

Now, not many things actually embarrassed the Sexta Espada, but knowing what the hard proof meant somewhat humiliated him: Grimmjow got creamed.