Okay, so I recently discovered the joy that is the Bleach Kink Meme. Need I say more?

Prompt: Sexual experimentation / unintentional innocence
Pairing: GrimmjowXUlquiorra
Warnings: Smut. And smut. Oh, did I mention smut?
Disclaimer: Yes, I admit it. I own Bleach. It's all mine. Every episode. Thank you, Bittorrent~


He would never admit to being intrigued by anything as trivial as human behavior. Aizen had never sent him to Karakura Town to indulge his curiosity. The ex-captain had much more important issues on his mind, and couldn't care less about something as insignificant as explaining why humans laughed / cried / hugged / whatever to one of his Espada.

And Ulquiorra agreed wholeheartedly that 'insignificant' was a perfect way to describe the whole situation. Consciously, he was entirely indifferent towards the human population. Whether they lived or died was of no concern to him. His only concern was whatever orders Aizen gave him. Nothing more, nothing less. When it came to humans, he simply didn't care.

Consciously, he couldn't care less about why the Inoue girl had tried to press her mouth against Kurosaki's, the way so many other humans seemed to enjoy doing to each other. He couldn't care less about why the human boys were always trying to look up the girls' skirts. He couldn't care less about why the Quincy boy kept looking at the Inoue girl with that strange, dreamy expression on his face.

But the key word was 'consciously'. Because in the back of his mind, Ulquiorra did care. His mind was always absorbing information, memorizing details, trying to make sense of his surroundings. And this... whatever it was... did not make any sense.

At first he thought it was a method of feeding. One of the functions of a mouth was for eating, after all. Only, that didn't quite make sense. How could one receive nourishment by pressing their mouth to someone else's mouth?

Then he thought it might be a form of communication. Another function of the mouth was for speaking. But that didn't make sense either. By having their mouths pressed together with their tongues entangled as they were, it would be near impossible for either human to form any coherent words.

He had tried asking Aizen about it once, trying to pass the question off as slightly confused indifference. Ichimaru, however, had found it oddly amusing for some reason, and Ulquiorra found his voice and all other sounds in the room drowned out by the vulpine man's uncontrollable laughter.

This irritating and embarrassing reaction discouraged the Fourth's curiosity for awhile, but after seeing Inoue pressing her lips against the glass of her window, he couldn't help it. Why in the name of hell did humans feel inclined to put their mouths on everything they came in contact with? Not only was it unsanitary, but is was, for lack of a better word, weird.

And yet, it was still intriguing.

Now, Ulquiorra was well-known for being particularly expressionless. So when Grimmjow asked what the Fourth's problem was, Ulquiorra was caught slightly off guard.

"What are you talking about, Grimmjow?"

"There ya go again, answering a question with a question," Grimmjow said pointedly. "Your eyes glaze over when you think too much." Ulquiorra tilted his head slightly, but remained silent.

"Well?" Grimmjow snapped.

"Well what?"

"I answered your question. So answer mine. What the hell's your problem?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said simply, moving to pass the Sixth. "And even if I did, I fail to see how it would concern you."

Grimmjow ground his teeth irritably as the smaller Espada walked away, then turned around and followed the Fourth, saying nothing. At first, Ulquiorra ignored him. Everyone knew Grimmjow got bored easily, and with any luck, the Sixth would find a lower-ranked Arrancar to pick a fight with. However, after reaching his room ten minutes later without Grimmjow getting discouraged in the slightest, Ulquiorra began to get annoyed.

"Don't you have something else you should be doing, Sexta?" he asked irritably.

"Prob'ly," Grimmjow replied with a shrug. "But see, now I'm curious. Normally, ya would've said some stupid shit like 'Aizen-sama said blah blah fukken blah' or somethin when I asked what's on your mind. But not this time."

"Your point?"

"Point is, I'm curious," Grimmjow replied with a smirk.

Ulquiorra had half-opened his mouth to tell Grimmjow exactly where he could shove his 'curiosity' when an idea struck him. It was a very small chance, but it was possible that Grimmjow would be able to shed some light on the humans' bizarre behaviors. "I've noticed a few behaviors in humans that I can't exactly explain," he began hesitantly.

Grimmjow arched an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Such as... their annoying habit of putting their mouths on everything around them."

Ulquiorra felt he wasn't doing a very good job of explaining the peculiar behavior when Grimmjow responded, "Well, humans do need to eat a lot more than Hollows and Shinigami. and they eat different things than-"

"That's not what I meant," Ulquiorra said impatiently. "The Inoue girl, for instance. She tried to put her mouth on Kurosaki's, and when I went to give her her food, he had her lips pressed against the window." Grimmjow looked even more confused than before, and Ulquiorra shook his head. "Forget it, Grimmjow. I didn't expect you to know the answer either way."

"Show me."

Ulquiorra paused, bedroom door halfway open. "Excuse me?"

"Show me what they were doing," Grimmjow said simply. "Coz, well, you really suck at explanations." Ulquiorra instinctively moved his hand toward his left eye. "No!" Grimmjow said quickly. "No, not like that. Gods, that eyeball thing you do is fukken freaky!"

"Well, then what do you suggest I do?"

Grimmjow sighed impatiently. "It really ain't that hard, Ulquiorra. Just... show me what they were doing. Coz now I wanna know too."

Ulquiorra frowned slightly. "Alright, then..." he said, then leaned up and roughly pressed his mouth to Grimmjow's.

The result was entirely unexpected. What felt like sparks shot throughout Ulquiorra's spine as Grimmjow mimicked his actions, and he bit back a whimper as Grimmjow's tongue found its way into his mouth.

Ulquiorra abruptly pulled back, wiping his mouth. "So you know what they were doing, then?" he asked, panting slightly.

"Not a flippin' clue," Grimmjow replied.

"You don't know?" Ulquiorra asked in disbelief. "But you did the same thing with your tongue that the humans were doing. And you don't know?"

Grimmjow frowned. "I dunno why I did that," he said simply. "I thought I was supposed to, I guess."

"You thought you were supposed to?" Ulquiorra repeated slowly.

"Yeah, I think that's what I just said," Grimmjow said sarcastically. "Geez, Ulquiorra, you sure are slow on the uptake today."

But this snide remark was lost on the Fourth, who seemed to be lost in thought again. The possibility of a mouth somehow being used for some kind of pleasure had never occurred to him. There was a perfectly good reason for this, however, seeing as the only real physical pleasure many Hollows had ever known was the feeling of fullness after consuming a soul.

"That felt strange," Ulquiorra said, more to himself than to Grimmjow. "Very strange..."

"Strange?" repeated Grimmjow, who then shrugged. "Well, I thought it felt nice."

"Yes, I suppose it did," Ulquiorra agreed quietly.

"Worth repeating?"

Ulquiorra looked up sharply. Grimmjow was grinning mischievously as he reached for the Fourth's jaw, but missed by inches as the latter slipped through the door instead. "Hey!" Grimmjow stuck out his arm and caught the door as Ulquiorra attempted to slam it shut. "The hell?"

Grimmjow knew Ulquiorra could've thrown him out with minimal effort if he'd wanted to, but the simple fact remained that right now, Ulquiorra really couldn't be arsed to pay Grimmjow the slightest bit of unnecessary attention. The Fourth was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Grimmjow until the Sixth was right in front of him again. "Asshole, I was talkin to you!" he snapped loudly. Ulquiorra blinked and looked up at Grimmjow, as if just realizing the latter was there. For some reason, this was what irked the Sexta most.

"What is it, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra said with an exceedingly irritated sigh.

"I just..." The Sexta mentally smacked himself. There was no reason he should be finding himself lost for words right now! Growling slightly, he grabbed the Cuarto's jaw and pulled the smaller man's mouth to his.

Ulquiorra mentally cursed himself for allowing it. This was human behavoiur! But even as his brain screamed that an Espada should never lower himself to mimicking anything remotely human, he found his hands tangled in Grimmjow's blue hair as he willingly allowed the Sexta's rough, cat-like tongue to ravage every inch of his mouth.

"Grimmjow..." he panted as they finally pulled back for air. "We... I... can't be doing..."

"Why not?" asked Grimmjow. "Ya really seemed to like it a minute ago."

"Humans do this!" Ulquiorra practically spat.

"Yeah, and I can see why," the Sixth said, smirking. "Gotta give them credit for that one, I guess."

And they were once again connected at the mouth, Grimmjow pressing the smaller Espada roughly against the wall to prevent any further pointless interruptions. A raw sort of need began to burn in both Arrancar; once-smoldering embers catching a breeze and roaring to life, an itch deep inside that couldn't be scratched. Ulquiorra's hands had once again tangled in Grimmjow's hair, nearly ripping the blue strands out at the roots as he pulled the Sixth closer. Grimmjow had one hand roughly clenching the back of Ulquiorra's neck while the other roamed across any part of the Fourth he could touch.

What happened next was entirely unintentional. Grimmjow had tried moving closer right as Ulquiorra arched his back, and the resulting contact had the Sixth hissing in pleasure. But before he could do anything else, one of Ulquiorra's pale hands grabbed his arm and forcibly pulled him away.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he panted as the Fourth walked away, face blank as though nothing had happened.

"I was supposed to check on the Inoue girl five minutes ago," he said, slightly breathless, "and I'm sure you have something else you could be doing."

Grimmjow's mouth hung open slightly in indignant shock. "You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, yer a mess, for starters," Grimmjow smirked. "You seriously going out like that?"

Ulquiorra frowned. "Alright, then, I'll change." He indicated in the direction of the door. "Leave."

"Whatever," The moment Grimmjow had left the Fourth's room, the door slammed loudly behind him and Grimmjow stalked off towards his own room, wondering what the hell had just happened. There was no reason shoving his tongue down Ulquiorra's throat should have this much of an effect on him. His heart was pounding painfully, he was short of breath, every muscle in his body felt tense and his pants felt way too tight.

Upon reaching his room, he slammed the door behind him and lay down on his bed, breathing deeply as he urged his body to relax.

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It became an unspoken rule from then on. Once the tensing and breathlessness reached a certain level, it was over. Neither could explain what that level was. It was just some level of desperation that would suddenly hit, leaving one or the other all but begging for something they simply didn't understand.

And while it didn't quite scare them, it was still rather unnerving.

But it had become a daily thing without either of them realizing it. Somehow, they would end up in Ulquiorra's room, the Fourth pressed against the wall or floor or any solid surface as Grimmjow's hands grabbed at whatever part of the smaller Espada he could reach. Neither understood it in the slightest, but as both had deemed it enjoyable, neither could see any reason to stop.

Eventually, however, things began to change. Grimmjow's mouth would wander down to suck on the Fourth's throat and collarbone, occasionally nibbling and biting. The 'unspoken level' would always be hit much sooner that way. Eventually, Ulquiorra no longer found himself pressed against the wall. Everything seemed much easier when he sat on Grimmjow's lap, one leg on either side of the Sexta's hips. Again, that level always approached rather quickly.

By this time, Grimmjow had figured out what felt good and what didn't. As a rule, anything below the waist felt painfully good, but always sent him towards that level that had his heart pounding and his dick throbbing. Anything on the chest felt good, and he found it highly enjoyable when Ulquiorria would chew on his lower lip as he caught his breath.

Going by this logic, he would try to do the same things, wondering if the Fourth felt the same things or not. It was a thought somewhat similar to this that crossed his mind as he slid his hand between the Cuarto's legs and squeezed.

Ulquiorra's reaction was entirely unexpected. He thrust his hips roughly into Grimmjow's touch, then immediately moved away. "What the hell was that?" he said almost indignantly, fixing Grimmjow with a rather reproachful stare.

"You feel it too?" Grimmjow asked eagerly.

"Feel... what? ...yes, I do," Ulquiorra answered, frowning slightly at the expression on Grimmjow's face. "Grimmjow, what are you-"

But an idea had formed in Grimmjow's mind, and he'd stopped listening the minute he heard the word 'yes'. "Just... shut up for a bit, wouldya?" he said, pushing Ulquiorra down onto his back. "I wanna try something."

And with that, the hands were back, groping, squeezing and rubbing at any spot he'd deemed pleasurable, grinning maniacally when Ulquiorra groaned his name loudly and arched into his hands. Something about the Fourth's voice sent a sharp jolt straight to Grimmjow's dick, and he found himself wanting to hear it again. But after that first vocal outburst, Ulquiorra seemed determined to be entirely silent, and Grimmjow began to sorely regret telling him to "shut up for a bit".

Thankfully, Grimmjow was never one to be discouraged. One hand quickly moved to undo Ulquiorra's shirt, while the other continued groping at any place that got him a reaction. The Fourth seemed entirely oblivious to anything other than that one hand that seemed to know every nerve ending that could send pleasurable responses to his brain, until Grimmjow's rough tongue began to trace the black 4 on his chest. Ulquiorra's eyes snapped open as he gasped, and immediately, he tried to sit up.

"Grimmjow, you need to stop," he said in what he meant to be a firm, commanding tone. Unfortunately, his voice shook. "You... need to... stop. I can't..." His voice trailed off, but Grimmjow knew exactly what he meant.

However, Grimmjow did not feel like stopping. He lazily ran his tongue along the inside of the hole in Ulquiorra's throat, and was immediately rewarded by a quiet moan that sent shivers down his spine. Slowly, he ran his tongue lower and lower, inwardly smirking at the way the Cuarto was squirming beneath him.

Experimentally, he slid one of his hands down the Fourth's pants and gave a light squeeze. Ulquiorra's eyes widened almost comically and he gave a slight moan as he ground into Grimmjow's hand. "Grimmjow," he growled, trying to sound irritated, but failing miserably as it came out as more of a wanton purr. Instead of offering any kind of discouragement, the Sexta took it as an invitation to continue, and hastily began removing the rest of the Ulquiorra's clothes as best he could.

Grimmjow had half-expected Ulquiorra to push him away, and was pleasantly surprised when he only felt the Fourth's hand weakly swatting at his wrist. Again, this did anything but discourage Grimmjow. If what he was doing made Ulquiorra too weak to do anything to object, he'd definitely have to remember exactly what he was doing. One never knew when such tactics could be useful later.

By now, Ulquiorra knew he should have put a stop to the whole situation a long time ago. That strange, unnerving feeling that he so disliked had reared its ugly head, making his blood boil and his head spin. He knew it had to stop. But something about the way Grimmjow was dragging his rough fingertips up his thighs made all rational thought cease entirely. Perhaps it was instinct that caused him to involuntarily spread his legs, welcoming that bizzarely intimate touch, but that didn't quite make sense. If any of this had been instinct, he was fairly certain he would have known about it already.

He was suddenly jerked out of his thoughts as a rough, cat-like tongue slowly slid along the underside of his cock, sending his senses into overload. "G-Grimmjow..." he said with as steady a voice as he could manage. "Wh-what are you-?"

"Thought I told you to shut up for a bit," Grimmjow said in between long, torturous licks.

"And I... aah... thought I told you to stop," Ulquiorra replied without any real venom.

The Sixth snickered. "It's your own damn fault for making me curious in the first place, you know." Upon seeing Ulquiorra's half-hearted glare, he continued, "Besides, I'd say this is pretty much the answer to your question, huh? They do it coz it feels good. Plain and simple. Now shut up and quit your bitching."

Ulquiorra was about to give one of his crueler retorts when he felt the words suddenly die in his mouth. Grimmjow's tongue was back on his cock, tracing along the veins, painting some sort of lewd picture in saliva that had the Fourth biting his lip in a last-ditch effort to remain silent.

For some reason, this simple act pushed Grimmjow over the edge. He didn't know specifically what he so desperately needed at this point, but he had a feeling that the smaller man writhing beneath him would suffice. With this thought, he moved forward until his body was aligned perfectly with Ulquiorra's.

The Fourth didn't even bother asking what Grimmjow was doing. Perhaps it was instinct, or maybe it was the simple fact that somehow, the Sexta Espada had managed to fry his brain with that rough cat-tongue, but in Ulquiorra's mind, wrapping his legs around Grimmjow's waist and roughly grinding against him seemed perfectly logical. And even if it wasn't, Grimmjow certainly wasn't complaining. Anything but, actually, as he dragged his blunt nails down Ulquiorra's back, leaving raised red welts along the pale flesh.

Despite his hormones screaming for something, some form of relief, Grimmjow was still unsure of what to do until Ulquiorra's hand found its way into his pants and began mimicking the Sixth's ministrations from before. Then the last bit of the puzzle fell into place, and he licked his lips eagerly.

"Can I try something?" he asked, more as a gesture than anything, because without waiting for a reply, he moved back, fumbled slightly with his pants in his haste to remove them, then pulled the Fourth onto his lap.

"Grimmjow, just… just do something!" he gasped. "Please, just… please!" He was begging. It was positively disgraceful. He, Ulquiorra, the Cuarto Espada, was begging. And to make matters worse, he had absolutely no idea what he was begging for. He had no idea what he needed, but damn if he didn't need it now.

Normally, Grimmjow would've had a snide comment or twenty about having his superior begging for mercy. But the only thing on his mind was the intense heat pooling in his groin, intensified tenfold every time the Fourth would move his hand or ass. He was perfectly content to sit there and let Ulquiorra keep squirming; for some reason, it felt amazing. But Ulquiorra's hand seemed to be sending rather bizarre ideas into his head. And bizarre as they were, Grimmjow couldn't resist trying a few.

Slowly, he moved the hand that had been clawing its way down Ulquiorra's back quite a bit lower, until he had one finger pressed against the Fourth's entrance. Ulquiorra didn't seem to have noticed, as he still had his head on Grimmjow's shoulder, panting heavily. But as Grimmjow slipped the first finger past the tight ring of muscle, Ulquiorra gave a loud gasp and tightened his grip on the Sexta's dick. Assuming he was doing something right, he slid his finger in further and awkwardly moved it around a bit. Ulquiorra's grip tightened even more, and Grimmjow winced slightly.

But as he started pulling his finger out, Ulquiorra's other hand suddenly latched onto his arm. "Don't," he growled heatedly.

"Don't what?"

"Stop. Don't stop."

Grimmjow smirked. "Not really giving me much of a choice here, are ya?"

"Grimmjow!" Ulquiorra practically shouted.

"Alright, alright." Grimmjow roughly shoved his finger back in, biting back a groan as Ulquiorra's hiss of pleasure sent shockwaves straight to his now-throbbing erection. Determined to find out what other noises the Fourth could make, Grimmjow worked another finger in, curling, thrusting, and scissoring the digits until Ulquiorra suddenly let out a throaty shout and slammed down onto Grimmjow's fingers.

Grimmjow was trembling. Not from fear or unease; no. Tension. Excitement. Sheer, burning need. A singular idea had lodged itself in Grimmjow's mind, one that made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but could feasibly provide much more pleasure than the Fourth's hand. He swiftly removed his fingers, much to Ulquiorra's displeasure, and positioned the smaller Espada over his cock.

"Grimmjow, are you-"

"Yeah, I wanna see how it feels," Grimmjow replied, slowly pushing upwards.

Ulquiorra glanced back over his shoulder. "Will it fit?" he asked curiously.

"Probably. Just… hold still, alright?" Grimmjow spat liberally into his hand and, ignoring Ulquiorra's disgusted frown, smeared it over his cock and around the Fourth's entrance. Quickly re-aligning himself, he pressed forward, and finally felt the tight muscles yield to accept his length as Ulquiorra hissed sharply at the intrusion.

He had been right. It felt far better than Ulquiorra's hand. Tight, wet heat squeezed his cock and seemed to suck him in deeper while simultaneously voiding his lungs of oxygen and his mind of coherent thought. "Fuck," he growled.

Ulquiorra's breathing was shallow and harsh. There was pain, yes, but it was nothing he couldn't handle with ease, since directly following every sharp twinge was a pleasure he'd never known existed. But the pleasurable sensations lessened greatly once he was fully seated in the Sixth's lap, and the crazed tension slowly returned. Experimentally, Ulquiorra shifted his hips, lifting himself an inch or so off Grimmjow's cock.

The result was instantaneous. The pleasure surged, and Grimmjow snapped his hips up, violently filling the Cuarto before pulling back out and repeating. Ulquiorra's head lolled forwards and he buried his face in the crook of Grimmjow's neck, sinking his teeth into the salty flesh as he tried to regain some semblance of control over his body. But instead of clearing his head, the scent of the blood sent his senses into overload, and he was dimly aware of moving his hips to meet Grimmjow's thrusts, and the sound of loud groans, shouts and sighs filling the room, and his last coherent thought was whether or not the walls were soundproof.

It didn't last long. After all the build-up over the past weeks and the excessive touching minutes before, Grimmjow's thrusts became faster, wilder, more desperate, and Ulquiorra's normally sharp eyes had become hazy and unseeing as he mindlessly threw himself back against Grimmjow's cock.

"Grimmjow…" he choked brokenly. "I… I don't…"

"What?" the Sixth grunted, eyes clamped shut as heat began pooling in his groin.

"I can't-" Ulquiorra gasped, hands clutching at his face as a desperation that he didn't understand spiraled throughout his body. "I don't understand… It feels so… I don't… I don't know what to do… "

And then it was over. A hoarse scream tore its way from Ulquiorra's throat as what felt like electricity surged through his body, tensing every muscle and filling him with a euphoria that couldn't even compare to anything before.

Grimmjow had said something, but it was lost as he suddenly threw the Cuarto to the floor and slammed in once, twice, then let out a loud, guttural, almost feline noise as he felt the waves of pleasure crest and crash down, leaving behind a bone-deep feeling of contentment and relief as he collapsed next to Ulquiorra.

After a few moments, Grimmjow slowly pulled out, and winced at the sudden tenderness of his cock. There was a thin trail of fluid leaking from the Fourth; blood, and a thick, white substance that he couldn't identify. Ulquiorra seemed to have noticed something similar, and lightly dragged his fingertips across Grimmjow's chest. When he pulled his hand back, Grimmjow saw the same white substance coating his fingers.

"The hell is that?" Grimmjow panted.

"Does it matter?" came the tired reply, as Ulquiorra laid back down on the floor.

Grimmjow shrugged and laid down as well. It didn't matter. Not yet, anyways.

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Aizen's mouth hung open slightly as he stared at the image on the screen. Beside him, Gin's smile couldn't have got any wider without splitting his face open. "Ya see what I mean, Aizen-taicho?" he said in a smug, lilting voice. "Maybe it is time ta give your children 'the talk'."

Aizen nodded slowly. "You may be right," he said weakly.