Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Couverture Chocolate ❯ Couverture Chocolate ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

oneshot. Ulquiorra�s new heart keeps giving him problems. First he can�t seem to leave Inoue Orihime alone, now he�s developing symptoms of jealousy. Just what is a hollow to do? A poem and a story.

Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Poetry | Uploaded On: 04.01.2010 | Pages: 3 | Words: 8.2K | Visits: 978 | Status: Completed

Disclaimer: Bleach and all of its characters belong to Kubo Tite.

AN: It's poetry in motion, and now she's making love to me. The spheres're in commotion; the elements in harmony. But seriously you got your warning in the rating. This is M. Em - Mm. For Mature. It starts with double entendres and just goes up from there. Note that this was inspired by my poetry, which is always racier than my typical prose, so it is hot. ;) (But you know me, I can't deny the luv, so it's got a lot of that as well.) This is for the UlquiHime Valentine's Fest over at the ulqui_hime community on LJ (I'm a member, so you can find it through my LJ user info). I charge everyone who reads this with participation because I must obviously love Valentine's stories as this is the third I've done.

WVWTD will be updated when I get over the depression of losing the last chapter when my computer crashed during Christmas break (which was a while ago, but I had to buy a new computer, so please understand that the moroseness of my soul wells from my wallet, too, and the emptiness thereof). Expect it before or on Valentine's.

Couverture Chocolate

The moonlight whispers of his coming,
Lunar skin and midnight hair,
And it leaves her body humming
Knowing he will soon be there.

At the window, her smile a sun
In the darkest slice of dusk,
She greets him, the latch undone,
The welcome far from brusque.

Every touch is Vulcan, liquid
Fire running through their veins.
Each breath a new intrepid
Desire; it's force cannot be named.

And as she reaches for the night,
Lacus Speii held in her eyes,
He in turn rejects the light,
Hands guided solely by her sighs.

Her heartbeat radiates to him,
Pulsing both with tempest storm,
And though she resists giving in
Her fingers swiftly clutch his form.

Above her, he obscures the moon
And she ignores its endless seas
Locking her eyes to his, for soon
Sinus Amoris shall be all she sees.

The moonlight whispers of his coming,
Lunar skin and midnight hair,
And it leaves her body humming,
Anticipating solar flare.

Now molten with the heat,
They meld and are complete.

"A Collision of Two Heavenly Bodies"
-Tuathafaerie

With barely a sound, Ulquiorra let his material form become closer to a wispy dream as he stepped through the door and into the familiar apartment. The television was off, he noted, shoed feet as silent as the rooms as he stalked on through the entrance way. A light drew him from the kitchen, but when he arrived that, too, was empty, though a pot of something dark bubbled merrily to itself on the stove.

A frown tapering his mouth down and out of its customary indifference, he passed through the last doorframe with a malignant, irrational thought rising to the top of his mind.

She was home, wasn't she?

But something ran into his side (he'd barely registered its presence before his left hand came up and caught the force as it barreled into him), letting out a faint but high pitched, "oomph!" and that most recent fear quickly died in his stomach. The others, however…

"Ulquiorra?" the body asked, and the light coming from the kitchen revealed features that he had known by memory even before these last four months spent so often in her presence. Those wide, brown eyes, her petite nose, the mouth that curved just slightly higher on the right side when she was in a good mood, even one of these features would have identified her. The flower pins tucked into her bright hair glinted as she tilted her head at him and smoothed the pink apron wrapped around her.

Orihime. "Woman," he replied in greeting.

"You're here early," she commented, still oblivious to her offense, still cheerful. There was a perfectly good reason he had been unable to wait until the hour of their appointment for dinner, but as she hadn't asked directly and he was in no mood to answer, he ignored the implied inquiry in her voice.

Instead, his sharp eyes, dilating once again in the dim room, caught a suspicious smudge on her arm and lifted it up to eye level. "What's this?"

"Oh?" She took a closer look, then smiled. "It's chocolate," Orihime replied brightly, unaware, so naïve.

Chocolate. Ulquiorra eyed it with loathing. Chocolate. He could not believe that this cocoa laden sweet would dare wage war against him. But it had. He'd seen it just this afternoon commit an atrocity that could not be forgiven, that could not be ignored.

He had spent this time since regenerated (a painful, time consuming, and difficult process, sped only through leaching his former teammates spiritual energy from the Las Noches where they lay in defeat) exploring the human world. He was invisible to all but the spiritually aware and he knew how to dampen his own reiatsu so that they would not find him unless they were truly looking, so it was easy enough to slip in and out of human lives to observe the traits that made up this heart Orihime had revealed to him. He still ate in Hueco Mundo, he would be discovered far too quickly in this world else wise, but every hour he could spare he dwelt here, his presence known only to Inoue Orihime, whom he had sought out four months ago and who guarded his secret in return for visits and stories. And in the past month he had seen a strange ritual begin to coalesce, one where pink and red decorations were hung in supposedly heart shaped forms (though Ulquiorra had seen a heart, the emergency department had been one of his first haunts, and an upside down triangle topped with two half circles was not its outline), the music played began to speak increasingly of love, and confectionary shops sold primarily chocolate. Chocolate, Ulquiorra learned, that had a purpose. Chocolate that conveyed a message.

Chocolate that was a traitorous entity to his newly formed heart, that Pandora's box of trouble that had released its deadliest emotion on him just weeks ago: Hope.

The remnant of that hope was smeared across her arm. Orihime began speaking again, but he paid her words no mind, instead lifting her smooth, soft appendage higher. Greed, jealously, hope, despair, he had felt them all in the past day, and he was growing weary of being pulled along by the strings of his ruthless heart.

"I really need to get back to the kitchen, you know, that pot isn't supposed to sit this lo-ah!" Her assertion ended with a squeak and Ulquiorra's green eyes shifted right, following the path of her arm, where his mouth now rested after licking at the patch of brown, all the way to her face. In the soft yellow light from her kitchen lamp, her cheeks glowed a flushed pink over her confused expression. His eyes narrowed. There, at the edge of her chin, wasn't that another…

"W-what…" Orihime started, only to drift off as his lips found their next target. A small, tremulous sigh left her body as his tongue swiped up that dab of chocolate as well. Her hand fisted in the front of his robes and Ulquiorra repeated his previous action not because there was any foreign sweetness still clinging to her skin but because he wanted to see just how much this suddenly intimate touch effected her. If it would compensate for how much that chocolate had effected him. She didn't fall to the ground, but her body trembled timorously against his chest. "Why are you doing this?" she finally managed, her soft pants whispering past his ear and fluttering into his hair.

"You do not hate it." It was a simple truth and no answer at all. Ulquiorra, after a moment's introspection, decided he liked her shivers better than chocolate and ran his tongue purposefully up the line of her jaw to linger right below her ear. Her right arm, still caught in his grip, tugged vainly as her neck arched back, but her voice still emerged, thready and insistent, even as he fought the urge to hum his satisfaction.

"W-why? Ulquio-" Her voice caught in her throat as the rumble lingering in his chest vibrated through her hand.

She did not try to speak again but he drew back suddenly as a terrible image swept through him. Jealousy (and oh, how he hated jealousy; this heart was just as full of agonizing emotions as those light ones she embodied) pulsed again at the forefront of his reasons for seeking her out, and he was struck with the apprehension that he was perhaps not the only one to see her blush like this recently. "You gave chocolate today."

After a moment, wherein he sensed she was waiting for him to continue, she finally replied. "Yes. It's Valentine's Day."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "To Kurosaki Ichigo. At school. Less than four hours ago." He had stupidly, stupidly, stupidly acted on his sudden impulse to see her this afternoon and had lingered a block away from her school (where anyone could have seen him, which spiked his surprising idiocy to new levels) only to spot her, on the way out of the gate, stop that orange haired shinigami and hand him a small box. A box which Kurosaki Ichigo had opened curiously. A box which contained chocolate "hearts." Ulquiorra had sonidoed away instantly, his mood turning as black as his cero oscuras.

Blinking, evidently bewildered, Orihime nodded. "Of course. I gave some to-"

He swallowed the rest of her guilty confession. Pivoting her sharply to the left, he slammed them against the wall, his mouth tight against hers and his right arm locked snuggly around her waist. He was a hollow, an arrancar, it was a known fact, and he had very few lingering memories of his human past. It must have existed, he must have existed, at some point in the human world, but it had been decades, perhaps even centuries since his chest had been whole, and he did not remember any courting rituals. He had not focused his intellect on learning them in the last four months either, and he supposed that that was a rational if not acceptable excuse as to why Inoue Orihime was not aware that she was his. His to receive chocolate from, his to make tremble and blush with his lips below her ear, and his to accept all the damn hearts she had to give. The small noise she breathed out as she shifted her free grip from his chest to his shoulder spoke volumes of desire and Ulquiorra felt his lips curve slightly up against hers before he pushed further still and parted her mouth to his ever inquiring nature. The tongue that tentatively met his tasted of the same sweet he had removed oh so carefully from her body just minutes ago and he decided that perhaps he did not quite despise chocolate as much as he had previously as long as he was receiving it personally, intimately, from her. But there would be no one else. He released her arm, letting it loose to slip around his neck, as he tilted her chin up and made it clear.

"Do not do so again," Ulquiorra ordered to her throat, nuzzling instinctually into her as she heaved for air against his chest.

"What?" she asked, her tone betraying honest confusion. Even as she spoke her fingers threaded up through his dark hair, slipping nimbly around the bone helmet, to press him more firmly into her. Orihime, his Orihime, set her shoulders to the wall, leaned up, and forced him to widen his stance to hold her in place.

One of his hands splayed on the plaster as he resisted the desire to lift her more securely into his embrace and kiss her again. It was getting harder and harder every day to ignore the wishes of his heart, and he occasionally wondered if he had not made some mistake when he had questioned Orihime so thoroughly on the subject so as to inspire the growth of his own, because when its promptings aligned so closely with his hollow self - domination, lust, conquest - it was that much more difficult to block out. But if that was the price for the warmth her outstretched hand had inspired in his soul, well… Remembering his purpose, and the silly heart thumping promptings that had led him here in the first place, he leaned back and matched green eyes to her brown. "Do not give Kurosaki Ichigo chocolate again."

Orihime's fogged gaze slowly cleared. And a small, suspicious yet understanding purse took his place on her lips. "Why?"

"There is no need to tell you what you already know," Ulquiorra returned.

A lengthy sigh escaped her lungs and her hands left his hair to settle upon his shoulders once more. "Are you going to add a please to that request?"

"Since it is not one, there is no point."

"You are always so unreasonable," Orihime murmured back, tilting her head away from his in an exasperated fashion. After a moment spent staring almost thoughtfully over his shoulder, her bottom lip caught worrisomely between her teeth and her line of sight directed up as if in recalled memory, she firmed back up in his arms, gaze meeting his with the confidence she had often exuded when alone with him. "Who I give chocolate to is my decision." Ulquiorra's expression stiffened, he could feel the corners of his mouth almost grinding into one another, but all she did was smile faintly. "And you're wrong. I don't already know this mysterious reason why you want to forbid me from doing so." A red tongue peeked out from behind those teeth and swiftly wet her lips. "If you can't tell me," she continued, almost shyly, hesitating only a second before the suggestion spilled out, "then you'd better show me."

The body that held her trapped stilled, but his mind, ever quick, ever thinking, ran through her words over and over again and came up with permission and requisition every time. Something slightly lower than his stomach clenched even as he fought to keep the rest of him perfectly motionless. "Woman," Orihime, Ulquiorra started, and a part of him wanted to continue with are you afraid? But no, she wasn't, because she was the one reaching out to him first this time. Then was he afraid? No, no, impossible, no, and yet this apostate heart quivered maybe. "Will you regret it?"

She pulled at his shoulders at his words, drawing him down, ever so slightly, their heights were not that different, down to press her cheek to his pale one and confess to his apprehensive core, "No."

His eyes shifted to her much too close and yet not close enough features, and he knew no fear. The last of the ones that had driven him dissolved into dust. But a new emotion quickly suffused its place, and this one he recognized, this one he acknowledged. Clawing at his insides, gnawing through his reserve, swallowing his heart in full, he hungered and it was desire that spurred him and passion that would sate him and all of it began and ended with this woman standing before him.

This woman who had just placed an open mouthed kiss to his neck.

This woman whose moan filled the air as she pressed into him, trapping one of his legs between both of hers.

This woman who had somehow, somehow - why had he not been paying attention to this? Was he growing that careless around her? - slipped her hand inside his jacket and now used light, warm fingertips to trace lines across where the four had formerly been.

This woman who was making him shiver in growing lust.

And that was - phenomenal, marvelous, wonderful, divine - unallowable. He refused to lose control. It was far too dangerous, far too unpredictable. If this preposterous heart would not permit his body to remain unmoved during her actions, then he would simply have to ensure that he was not the one most impacted.

Always mindful of efficiency, known for his speed and skill, Ulquiorra reached down, hooked one finger between her legs disregarding the cotton clothes that still covered her, and pressed firmly up.

Orihime reared instantly back, her eyes wide. Her knees trembled, her hands spasmed on his chest. This was much more satisfactory. A second finger slid up beside the first, skittering briefly over the nerve endings that controlled her passions before thrusting up as far as it would go. Orihime cried out and crumpled to the floor, unhampered by his arms.

After a moment spent in breathy little pants and far from his typical calm silence, the girl at his feet sliced reproachful eyes up at him. "That was unfair."

"No," Ulquiorra continued the sentiment silently as he swiftly knelt and stopped her resentful glances with his lips upon hers, it was necessary. Now he was again in control. He dictated the pace at which they proceeded, he set the tone, and he could obscure the entire world from her senses. It was a moment of pride, an assertion of ego. He had submitted himself before Aizen because it had cost him so little, a bit of lip service, a few mindless chores, a tattoo, and the relationship had reaped him little. But to surrender to her and her exorbitant price he was not yet willing to do. Not yet, not yet. She needed to yield first so he could be sure of his dividends. With careful, quick hands, he looped her arms around his neck, scooped her up, and let her bounce slightly on her nearby daybed before pushing her supine into the mattress.

"Your, your shoes," Orihime eked out between leisurely kisses. His boots summarily found themselves on the floor, discarded. A few more moments of roaming hands proceeded until she managed, "My apron." It was whipped over her head in seconds. The exploration of her form began then in earnest, Ulquiorra's fingers skating up the sides of her waist and taking her cotton shirt with it. It was a body with such similar composition and yet different qualities that it fascinated him, her soft skin, her pliable warmth, and the pureness of her feelings that communicated openly to her every move, every arch, every moan. But when she breathed out, "My bra," he truly had had enough of clothes. The cotton shirt was quickly tossed away, his jacket swiftly following it, the bra rapidly lost to the sheets, and Ulquiorra's mouth fixed itself with unerring accuracy upon the nipple of her left breast in an effort to distract her from the fact that he was going to remove all other impediments between them immediately. The sudden shout that escaped her throat was only a slight beguilement, his fingers managed to remember their purpose after only one wayward, dragging trip down her back, but when her legs, now freed of their khaki shorts, parted, twined themselves around his torso, and just pulled, he came to a complete halt.

The muscle bed that was not his stomach clenched again. Hard. Especially when she mewed beneath him in need. And most definitely when her slender little ankles found purchase and pulled again. Pulled her up, pulled him down.

It was a fast ticket to destruction.

But, he remembered in that instant, he had been destroyed before, and it hadn't been the end of the world. Because she had been here to welcome him back. Even now, she would be here…

Woman. "Orihime."

Her sharp indrawn breath in response revealed his mistake, but he was oblivious to all else but the way their hips had settled together. "Y-yes?"

He slid, ever so slowly, ever so firmly, back up her body, and the joint tightened. As his eyes found hers he locked his fingers into her pelvis and ground. And she groaned and arched beautifully, her flushed breasts and rosy nipples slipping in and out of the beam of light from the door, so he did it again. And again, as she began insistently returning the action, and again, as his control wavered and strained, and again as his hands desperately found her buttocks, her back, her shoulders, her chest, her hair, her face, her hands, anything they could touch so long as it was hers. And again, as she exploded into incandescence and fell limp beneath him.

Taut above her, Ulquiorra took far more shallow breaths than any fight had forced him to do. Control, control, control, his mind remonstrated. Now, now, now, his body clamored. Her, her, her, his heart repeated. His eyes shut in concentration, his mouth closed itself into steadfastness, and his soul said, Wait.

"Ulquiorra," Orihime sighed beneath him, for the moment replete.

Orihime. His heart worshiped at her feet even as she wrapped two arms around him, leaned up, and pressed her lips to his cheek. And then his mind said now, his body roared her, but his heart, his foolish, precious, tiny heart did not call for control and did not tell him to wait. His heart spelled out love, and he, now tied most securely to its strings, complied.

Gently he eased her legs from around him, felt her languidly oblige, then slipped his fingers between them, down the plane of her stomach which fluttered for a moment beneath his touch, below the last scrap of fabric she wore, and along the seam that hid his goal. Orihime bucked, flaring back to awareness, her fingers digging tunnels into his arms as she held on for dear life. They burned together again beneath the pale yellow light of her kitchen and the glow of the moon streaming over his back from the blinds.

With a sound hovering just outside a curse, Ulquiorra tore her underwear down her legs, feeling Orihime's hands hook into the belt of his hakama and tug. He reared up, pulling her with him in the process, and quickly shed the pants. Then she was sliding into his lap, before he had a chance to lay them down again, her thighs running smoothly against his own and the sensation leaving him almost breathless.

In that instant he couldn't help himself. The control was gone and he simply had to possess her. Orihime was more to him now than she ever had been before, and she had to, had to, had to feel it, too, even if he had to leach every drop of emotion out of his body to amass an identifiable sentiment. His palms found the small of her back and drove her down, a close as he could get her.

The yelp of pain she released made him pause deep within her, and when he glanced up her face held a curious frown. Within seconds he felt the outcome of her self concentration as her body relaxed around him and the fasciculation of her muscles was something he could not withstand. He held her in place and pulled back, then thrust upwards again. This time the noise she loosed had nothing to do with suffering. Which was fortunate, because he had no inclination to stop.

He found it fascinating to watch her as he moved within her over and over. What little attention he had to spare from his own pleasure he spent on Orihime. His green eyes following the right arm up to where it gripped the horn atop his head with an almost unconscious temerity. His chest perceiving the intermittent brushes from the tips of her breasts and the unyielding pressure as she braced herself with her other hand. His hands contrasting so palely against her hips, black fingernails seeming to leave his mark wherever he touched her. His ears elucidating the small gasps and sighs she made when she bounced particularly right. His gaze tracing the curve of her cheek as it tilted to the left, the sweep of her eyelashes as they shaded the moon, and the contours of her mouth as it lay parted in silent joy. Acting on impulse, he leaned forward and toppled her back, covering that mouth once more with his own. It no longer tasted of chocolate, he determined, only of Orihime.

And that was sensory overload enough. The slick press of their joining quickened as Ulquiorra felt the zenith of his passion approaching, and Orihime reacted with just as much fervor, letting one hand fall to her side and bunch into the rumpled bed covering as she pressed stridently back. Once again her body went wild around his, only this time she did not have the cognizance to calm it, and Ulquiorra echoed her release with one that was as powerful but not at all similar to the two he had shown her previous atop the dome, bearing her by weight alone further into the bed. His heart, undone by the strain, shattered in a daze of emotion. The sweetest dissolution of all.

They lay, still and unmoving, for close to a minute before Orihime sighed serenely and Ulquiorra withdrew, sitting back up to look down at her unimpeded, this woman who had absorbed his soul so thoroughly. She, catching his gaze, blushed and illogically folded her limbs up as she moved to sit beside him, chin resting on her knees. After a moment, when he remained quiescent, she transferred her head to his shoulder, one hand finding his own to twine about.

"It was giri chocolate," she said to the hush of the room.

Ulquiorra, fighting the invitation to frown, thought back to his recent investigations and came up to his own distaste lacking in knowledge. "Explain."

"The chocolate that I gave to Kurosaki-kun," Orihime clarified, her long, bright hair shifting along his side as she glanced down at their connected palms. "Giri chocolate, just for friends. I gave some to Ishida-kun and Sado-kun as well."

Just for friends. Even after reconstructing the events of this afternoon and contemplating them in this new light, he did not like it. The jealousy that had receded into nothing while he had been her entire world resurged into a lingering malady. Just how many potential swains did she have? "That's foolish," he declared. "To give a gift that can be so easily misinterpreted, you only invite future problems. It would be a much better decision not to present them with anything at all."

A smile turned itself upwards against his shoulder. "They know the difference. The chocolate I gave away today was inexpensive, I picked it up with Kuchiki-san a few days ago from the store. Honmei chocolate is different, you give it to the one you love." Here she paused, her voice dropping to a soft whisper on the final word as if it were too new born and too special to be spoken loudly, before her fingers squeezed the back of his hand. "I made some for you, you know. Right now I've got it melting on the - Oh!"

Springing up from the bed, Orihime yanked at the coverlet beneath him, pulling it around herself, before sprinting for the kitchen. After more sedately donning his hakama, Ulquiorra followed. He stepped into the lit room to find her stirring the pot on top of the stove morosely. She glanced back at his entrance and her disconsolate brown eyes met his.

"It's ruined," she announced, holding up the spoon to show off the dark brown sludge sticking to it. An unhappy mewl of frustration escaped her as she set the utensil back, lifted the unfortunate pan, and set it in the sink. Turning on the hot water, Orihime let it run as she spoke regretfully without turning. "That was all I bought and you didn't even get to try it."

"I tasted it," Ulquiorra contradicted, mild, as he stepped closer to inspect her stove, a device with which she had made a variety of things for him to try as an example of typical human fare, and turned it off.

Orihime's mouth gaped open as she spun. "What? When did you do that?"

With a casual gesture, he closed the distance between them and lifted up her right arm. "You must have spilled some while cooking, Woman."

"Orihime," she corrected softly, but he let it pass in favor of observing her face again stain with color. He did not understand it. Had he not spent the past half hour examining her naked body? He would, without promptings, be willing to repeat the exercise if she had somehow forgotten the fact, but he had observed her full participation and awareness even in the dim light. But, he thought, as she lifted a smile to him, a smile for him, a smile that was purely his, that perhaps he did comprehend at least the fundamental principal. His heart, still recovering, clenched in appreciation and he knew that no matter where, no matter when, and no matter how many times he saw the expression it would always do the same thing.

"If you are going to repeat this cooking compulsion every year, I will have plenty of opportunities to test other samples." He noted her eyes lit up with this suggestion and the smile widened. "Especially as I will be the only one receiving chocolate from you."

"So unreasonable," she laughed incredulously, turning off the water before leaning towards him and snaking her arms around his torso. Orihime's head rested upon his shoulder as she hugged him, and after a moment he lifted one hand to settle comfortably against her back in return. "I'll make you the best honmei chocolate ever, so don't begrudge me the gi-" She broke off as he pushed her suddenly away and behind him. She stumbled but stayed upright, holding on to his belt as she peered curiously over his shoulder.

He could not have been so careless, could he?

And yet it seemed he had been, for seconds later Kurosaki Ichigo, clad in shinigami black, appeared running through the dark room they'd left behind. "Inoue!" he shouted, sword unsheathed and already assuming the thin form of his bankai. His gaze orientated almost immediately to the light and the young man came to a complete stop upon spotting Ulquiorra. "You! What the hell? What are you doing here? Where's Inoue?"

And then he stopped again. Obviously, he had detected the other person in the room, the least clothed of the three of them, her bed quilt still tucked together over her body. Ulquiorra shifted almost territorially in between them, but the damage had already been done. He had lost control and released his tight hold on his reiatsu for the briefest moment, he had failed to acknowledge the repercussions of this lapse appropriately, and he did not pay attention to the powerful spiritual energy rushing towards Orihime's apartment until it flared at just a block away. How reckless he'd been. But if it came to combat he would not be losing a second time. There was no reason to progress through his releases slowly, and he was still the fastest hollow in Hueco Mundo.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he greeted. "Do you still wish to sacrifice your limbs? Though I have now regained mine."

But it seemed as if Kurosaki Ichigo had lost the will to fight. His face was rapidly changing colors, and on him it was no where near as attractive as it had been on Orihime. It seemed as if he had processed their state of undress and the conclusion he had drawn was staggering but most likely accurate. "Y-you-! And him-! A-and that shee-!" He stuttered off with a choke, his cheeks burning a tomato red. "You know what, I don't even want to know!" The sword he held came up in a stiff point, as if he were using them to keep them at bay and his innocence unspoiled. "Don't you dare tell me what's been going on here!"

"Kurosaki-kun," Orihime started timidly, only to be cut off as the sword swung decidedly to her.

"No!" Visually gulping down on his discomposure, the young shinigami turned his weapon back to Ulquiorra. "And you! Don't, ah, don't get into any trouble or I'll be back! And keep off the damn radar!" With that said, and an extra forceful glare added to the threat, Kurosaki Ichigo promptly turned heel and stalked out of the apartment in a manner that was more akin to fleeing.

Ulquiorra watched him go with an objective gaze. Not how he had intended to get reacquainted with his perhaps biggest enemy, in fact he'd had no intention at all, but if the shinigami was aware now that the woman was his, it might not have been an entire loss. The radar, though, was unwelcome information.

"I think Kurosaki-kun has got rather the wrong idea about us," Orihime was saying.

"No, it's the right one."

"Yes, well, hmm…"

"Woman," Orihime, Ulquiorra said abruptly, interrupting her worried noises. She jumped slightly at his voice, the coverlet sliding but thankfully snagging atop her breasts before her body had an opportunity to change his mind. A radar in the human world, a machine, was likely to catch every lapse he had and he did not feel inclined to repeat the meeting that had just taken place. "Tomorrow night I will be in Hueco Mundo. I am planning on spending a great deal of my time there for the foreseeable future."

Orihime's face had gained an expression of dawning horror. "What? B-but after tonight…" Her face flared again. Would there ever come a time when she was not embarrassed to discuss their morphing relationship and its implications, or would she always flush shyly when she referred to their intimacy? "I had hoped to spend more time with you!"

Collected green eyes flicked down to the bed cover again. "That would be for the best, since practice and honing of my ability to hide reiatsu would be easier if I had a suitable distraction to test it on."

"A distraction!" she exclaimed, obviously put out by the description, the red fading from her cheeks. After a moment spent meeting his gaze belligerently, she announced, "I'm coming!"

"I see."

"Every night," Orihime clarified stridently. "This - this is not a negotiation!"

He could feel his mouth quirk just slightly upward at the words. "I agree." Disregarding her surprised countenance, he moved back into her room, picking up the remainder of his discarded clothing and redressing. "It's inexpedient to split my efforts between further investigations of the human world and building my skills in Hueco Mundo. I will come for you tomorrow night." And would likely be returning her each morning, but he was not so poor at traversing their worlds as to make that a trial. The double trip was looking to be well worth the effort.

"…not tonight? T-tomorrow is not a school day, you know."

Ulquiorra glanced back. Standing in the doorway, one hand hooked over the closure of her makeshift robe, Orihime was looking extremely shy once more. Her toes were wiggling restlessly to themselves on the floor, but her eyes were fixed firmly on his. She wanted his answer. And Ulquiorra was always known for his efficiency and speed. He had already surrendered, and she'd paid back his fealty in equal measure. Love for love. How could he deny her now? Gaze locking with hers, he wordlessly opened a Garganta.