Grimmjow moaned for you and it was like music to your ears. He squirmed on the damp sheets, pressing his back down into the bed. His toes curled and you watched as he bit his bottom lip, swollen and red from being chewed on. It was something he did often when you had him like this; he worried his lips when he was overwhelmed.
Grimmjow gasped while he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. You chuckled and stroked down his inner thighs, drew hearts on the smooth skin until he realized what the shapes were.
“You sappy bastard,” he muttered, “Thinking you’re real cute and everything.”
You rubbed the skin above his hips, made sure to flatten your palms against his waist.
Grimmjow hummed as you reached behind his head to palm his neck. Whenever you did that he would arch his back a little and let his mouth fall open just slightly.
“You’re beautiful,” you said, embarrassed and breathless.
Grimmjow’s skin was so flushed his blush was barely visible; but you caught on to the slight tint to his cheeks and the way his pupils widened.
“You’re not so bad either,” he drawled and grinned, “Idiot.”
You leaned down and pressed your lips together, your fingers still drawing lazy circles on his neck. The damp curls of his hair tickled your hand.
“Feelin’ real lazy right now,” he said under his breath, “Don’t wanna move.”
“You want me to take care of you?”
“Yeah,” he sighed and spread his legs to accomodate you, “Do that.”
Grimmjow’s eyes were tired but that didn’t stop him from watching you as you slowly crawled back down to sit between his knees.
One of the things you loved most about having him like this, lazy and spread out before you, was that you could take your time with him.
Grimmjow rarely asked for you to get him off, it annoyed him that his body acted up. It took him a while to open up to you about it; because Espada or not, his fears were deep-rooted and vicious. Asexuality was not something you had to earn by lying to yourself; it was not ended by sex and did not begin with it. Only through talking had you reached this point of understanding.
Sometimes you still saw it even now, the tight line of his spine and the wariness as he watched you; but you had gotten through to him.
“Hey, uh,” Grimmjow asked and made a disgruntled noise as you folded your hands on his chest to rest your chin on top.
“Yeah?”
“Can you, like, go slow today?”
His question did not surprise you. After all this time you were as attuned to his moods as he was to yours. Right now he seemed tired and wound up, a little more irritated than usual.
“Sensitive?” you asked and placed your hand on his hipbone, stroking your thumb over the soft skin.
Grimmjow shuddered and leaned his head to the side so that his sigh was almost swallowed by the pillow.
“Yeah, I-” he began and swallowed, “’m not feelin’ too well.”
“You don’t look too hot, honestly. Wanna talk about what’s up?”
Grimmjow shook his head and closed his eyes.
You squeezed his hip, rested your head on his thigh. For a moment you just relaxed, breathed against his skin until goosebumps prickled alive.
