The Catnip Incident – A Fanfiction by errihu

I do not own Bleach. Nor do I condone drug use. Catnip will not have this effect on humans. Only cats are this lucky. Mind the ratings – lemons, violence, and drug use! This is set right before the beginning of the Arrancar arc in the anime.

Grimmjow was kind of annoyed. Oh, being one of the first Espada to go to the real world was exciting enough – the recon assignment was great, but the problem was that there was absolutely nothing to reconnoiter at the moment. With the exception of the shop owner, all the shinigami had split from Karakura town chasing after some Bount things.

So really, there was absolutely nothing to do. And Grimmjow hated boredom probably more than anything else in the universe.

He sat on a rooftop overlooking Uruhara Shōten, considering the setting sun. They didn't get sunsets in Hueco Mundo. Or sunrises. Or sun. So even after several days of being in the living world, Grimmjow was still caught up by the novelty. It kind of looked like the horizon had been washed in blood, and he thought that was a neat touch.

He should have really been paying better attention to the shop. He almost missed it when the black cat wandered out and spotted him, staring up at him for long moments. He gave the cat a contemptuous glance and went back to watching the fiery blaze of clouds, sky, and sun.

So he was reasonably perturbed when he heard a woman's voice on the rooftop behind him.

"You're a hollow of some sort, aren't you?" asked the voice. Grimmjow turned to look back at her, one hand on Pantera.

"What if I am?" he asked, blue eyes glittering as he looked the woman over. She had yellow eyes and plum hair, dusky skin, and was wearing some kind of orange and black outfit. She was stacked. He didn't see a zanpakutō, but something told him this was a shinigami all the same. One he hadn't seen hanging around Uruhara Shōten before.

"Then I will have to purify you," said the unknown woman. Yep, definitely a shinigami.

"Che," said Grimmjow, standing. He turned to face her, letting Pantera slip from his sheath. "I'm not a hollow. I'm an arrancar. Hollows are nothing. I'm as like a Hollow as a panther is to a pussy cat." He grinned. It seemed entertainment had finally happened along.

"Arrancar?" the shinigami arched an eyebrow, scowling at his comment. "Doesn't matter. I've taken out adjuchas." She took a hand-to-hand stance. Grimmjow's grin widened. He much preferred to get up close and personal when he fought.

"My name is Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, bitch. Try to remember it when I'm tearin' ya apart."

"Shihōin Yoruichi, the Goddess of Flash. Get a good look at me now, because you won't even see the death blow."

The bluster and threats were the usual first steps in this age-old dance. Pleasantries over, he launched at her, swinging Pantera.

She moved fast, he'd give her that. Her shunpo was astounding. She dodged his first attack effortlessly, and he took to the air, wary for the counter-attack. It came, and he managed to parry her blows. But that damn shunpo kept him from successfully damaging her. And he was pretty damn good at sonido, too.

If he couldn't score a hit on her, at least he could keep her from getting one on him. Their battle raged inconclusively across the skies of Karakura town as they both used their version of fast movement to attempt attacks or dodge them. Though he had been initially quite happy for the fight, the Espada was quickly becoming annoyed. A fight where neither opponent could touch the other was unsatisfying.

Grimmjow attempted to cero her ass from the sky, but quickly discovered that cero was way too slow for this opponent. Even his cero, which was among the fastest in Hueco Mundo. He considered Pantera. He would not use his resurrección on some shitty little no-rank shinigami.

He blocked another blow with a backhanded fist and tried to follow through with another strike, which missed. Scooting back in the sky, he faced his enemy, Pantera held in a guard position. She stood in the air, giving him a cold-eyed glare. She hadn't even broken a sweat, and this stung the Espada, who, while he wasn't sweating either, was loathe admitting he was breathing a little harder than he should be.

"I grow tired of this joking around," said Yoruichi. She extended one hand straight out to her side. "Shunkō!" she shouted, exploding into a torrent of reiatsu.

"Bala!" Grimmjow did not let the fact that she was kind of impressing him (ok, really impressing him) stop him from taking advantage of her stillness. He sent a barrage of hardened reiatsu bullets at the still figure as she charged her shunkō. Most of them she dodged, but a few hit. It was enough to break her equilibrium, though really not enough to seriously damage her. "Cero!" he howled, the awful sound of his attack tearing through the air.

She went tumbling to the ground, where she landed in someone's herb garden. The shunkō dissipated. Grimmjow lowered himself to get a better look. There was no way that could have just killed her, not with the amount of reiatsu she had been broadcasting there. He knocked her out of the sky, but he knew damn well that was simply a matter of opportunity.

After a few seconds, she got up, brushing plant leaves off her clothes. Through his narrowed eyes, Grimmjow could see that she hadn't been badly wounded (if he'd managed to wound her at all). Yet she was staggeringly slightly, and seemed disoriented. Maybe she was punch drunk? Grinning, he decided to go for the kill. He wanted this up close and personal. The blue-haired arrancar streaked to earth, grabbing the shorter woman by the collar and lifting her towards him, blade ready to slice her throat.

Something smelled… funny. His nose wrinkled. He tried to ignore it.

"Any last words, shinigami?" he spat. He was feeling a little light headed. He should finish this before—before…

Glazed yellow eyes attempted to focus on him. A flush pinked her cheeks. "You're kind of cute for a hollow," she slurred, smiling like an idiot.

Trying desperately to piece together what he should be doing right now through the spinning of his head, Grimmjow grinned brainlessly back. "Thanks," he said, not noticing that he had dropped Pantera. His now empty right hand had found its way to her chest. "Ya got nice tits," he said.

She giggled in reply.

A corner of Grimmjow's mind was very aware that something was very very wrong. It was a rapidly shrinking corner. It was insisting that this enchanting woman who smelled so good was his enem— ene— mm. Soft, hot lips closed on his own. His lips parted, their tongues met. He purred. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his rational thought walk away, tipping its hat and giving him a jaunty wave. He wanted to wave back but his hands were so busy right now trying to get into Yoruichi's shirt. It was a little easier for her, he didn't wear a shirt under his jacket.

Grimmjow keeled backwards into some soft, very good-smelling plants. Yoruichi fell on top of him. Hey, she was purring too! How neat was that? She gazed at him through half-lidded, lazy eyes, smiling in an absent-minded way. He took her wrists and pulled her closer to him, nibbling on one of her fingers. It was green-stained by some kind of plant juice. He closed his eyes and sighed happily. He had to open them again when she reclaimed her wrists and straddled his stomach.

He opened his mouth to say something and was mildly surprised when she placed a leaf in it. He bit down, tasting. Pure joy flooded him. Here was the source of happiness! He munched gleefully on the leaf. She giggled, getting his jacket off his shoulders and out from under him and flinging it out of the patch of plants. He agreed with her goals – he was consumed with the urge to just roll naked in this heavenly garden. Rolling naked with her was an extra bonus.

Her shirt and bra followed his jacket in an elegant arc. Grimmjow found that Yoruichi's breasts were even better naked, and he reached up to grab them. Moaning, she leaned into his touch. His thumbs found her nipples, and her hips jerked on top of him. She was flushed, but he thought he might be too, so what did it matter? She was so pretty… He was so high…

A grunt escaped his lips as she reached behind her and grabbed his crotch. Warm, firm hands groped him through his hakama. The grunt turned into a rumbling deep in his throat, somewhere halfway between a purr and a growl. Yoruichi grinned like a cat that had found the cream. His hands travelled from her breasts to her belt and hakama, intent on divesting her of her remaining clothing. Thus began a frenzy of disrobing.

Finally naked, the pair tumbled into the herbs, groping each other frantically. Grimmjow tipped Yoruichi onto her back, pinning her down with his body. His hands were on her hips as he nipped her neck. She purred harder and nipped back, wriggling beneath him. He took her mouth again in a bruising kiss, not bothering to restrain the animal passion he felt. Her lips were so soft and sweet. He tasted blood on them, and wasn't entirely sure whose it was – her teeth were just as sharp.

Their hands explored each other eagerly, mouths aggressively assaulting each other's neck, ears, chest – no expanse of skin was safe. She wasn't holding back any more than he was. The feel of her teeth and nails against his skin merely inspired greater ardor in him.

Yoruichi managed to get a hand around his member again, and it felt even better than it had when he was wearing his hakama. Her other hand was touching herself. He jerked and hissed under her touch. He lost it. He meowed. At any other time that might have been embarrassing. Not now.

With a low moan, he pried her hands from their nethers, ignoring her snarl of protest. That snarl turned into a satisfied purr as he found his way into her. Eyes squeezed shut, he relished the sensations of her body beneath his, the way the whole world seemed to be spinning weirdly, and the sound of her high pitched yowls. Her fingernails were digging into his back, hierra or no. The pain egged him on further.

It had entirely ceased to matter that she was a shinigami and he was an arrancar, sworn enemies. In his completely inebriated state, screwing her was the obvious and natural course of action. She was so hot and wet and tight, eagerly meeting his thrusts with her legs around his hips. They were completely unrestrained, biting and clawing and yowling at each other. Every glorious, hard thrust of their bodies further crushed the bed of plants, the scent making Grimmjow's head spin and reducing his world to just the two of them moving together.

Growling, he bit her neck. This action caused Yoruichi to yowl loudly in his ear, screaming his name. He vaguely remembered demanding that she remember it when he was tearing her… Oh hells, this was too good, he wasn't going to last much longer. He felt and heard her response as she quaked beneath him, her cat-like cries were sweet music to his ears as he roared his own release, unable to hold back.

They lay there, panting and gasping for air. Completely trashed and utterly spent, Grimmjow passed out, not having the presence of mind to realize his opponent-cum-bed partner had done the same.

They woke several times in the night, only to find themselves in each other's arms again. How many times, Grimmjow didn't know. The night was an incoherent blur of drug-fueled sex and sleep. At some point, though, they rolled out of the patch of plants. It was maybe the only thing that finally got them out of the state that they were in before something unfortunate happened, like being discovered by the shinigami or arrancar.

Grimmjow woke, squinting in the bright sunlight. He sat up, groaning and rubbing his forehead. Fuzzily, he tried to piece together where he was and why the hell his head felt like it was going to explode. He glanced around. He saw the naked shinigami, sleeping soundly next to him, covered in dirt, bruises, plant stains and bite marks. He saw the crushed garden. He saw his – no, their clothes in a pile in the grass. Pantera was laying in the dirt several yards away. He started to remember what happened the night before. His face heated.

She moaned and stirred, yellow eyes fluttering open. Catching sight of him, she sat bolt upright, face first draining of all colour, then flushing brightly. Then she groaned and rubbed her head, unwittingly mimicking his previous response. Despite really not knowing what was going to happen now and feeling like hell warmed over, Grimmjow's mouth twitched into a ghost of a grin.

"What the fuck happened?!" the shinigami – no, Yoruichi – groaned. She sounded about like he felt.

Picking himself up and getting to his feet, attempting to ignore the pounding headache, lingering dizziness, and soreness in what felt like every muscle he had, he said simply, "hell if I know." Unable to resist the imp of the perverse, he smirked, knowing that her eyes were on him. "Yer a tiger in bed, though." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her blush deepen.

He walked over to the pile of clothes, picking out his own uniform. Wordlessly, he flung her garments back to her. Just as wordlessly, she put them on. He dressed, then grabbed Pantera, carefully avoiding getting too close to the mostly destroyed patch of plants. He was pretty sure he knew what triggered last night's excesses. Feeling a little ashamed about having left his blade in the dirt overnight, he wiped it down with a corner of his jacket. Blade still in hand, he turned to face the shinigami.

Blue eyes met yellow eyes, identical deadpan expressions on their faces. Now what? To be honest, he didn't really want to kill her, after that. He kind of thought she felt the same. Well, she should feel the same. He had a pretty good idea of how many times he made her come.

As if sensing his thoughts, or maybe her own were down the same track, her cheeks pinked again. Then she spoke. "This never happened." Her voice was flat, her emotionless tone attempting to mask the embarrassment and bewilderment she seemed to share with him. He heard it anyway.

It was probably for the best. "Yeah," he agreed. He sheathed Pantera, his gaze flicking away from her. He felt his face heat again. Damnit! He couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed last night immensely, but really, going on a drug-induced sex binge with his sworn enemy was a rather humiliating mark on anyone's card. His eyes floated back to her. Gods, he hoped he wasn't as marked up as she was. Only her neck was visible, and it was covered in bruises and bite marks. His jacket was open, showing a lot more skin than her outfit. He could just hear Nnoitra's comments when he arrived back in Las Noches like this.

They stared at each other for a minute or so more. He could see her yellow eyes glitter as she looked him over, her face expressionless. Finally, her mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. "See ya," she said. Before he could reply, she had disappeared, using shunpo to get the hell out of there.

"Che," said Grimmjow. He stood there for a moment longer. Then he looked towards the devastated herb patch. A plastic tag caught his eye. Careful not to touch the plants, he picked it up. It had a photo of a mint-like plant with blue-purple flowers. A word was written at the bottom: Catnip.

He was suddenly glad no one was there to see his face burn. No one could ever know about this.