Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Heat Of The Night ❯ el sangre ( Chapter 1 )

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

Yes,  I  am  a  terrible  person.  Haven’t  updated  or  finished  any  of  my  other  stories….But  
anyway…^_^† 
 
 
I  would  like  to  note  that  I  took  some  creative  license  with  whether  or  not  a  
Shinnigami  could  interact  (such  as  eating)  with  the  world  of  the  living  while  in  a  
non-­â€corporeal  state  (without  the  use  of  a  gigai)…so  please  just  deal  with  the  odd  
nuance.    
 
Pretend  they  only  use  a  gigai  so  that  the  majority  of  the  living  (those  without  
reiatsu)  can  see  them;  and  that  they  only  wear  them  so  as  to  give  themselves  
physical  limitations  so  that  they  don’t  draw  attention  when  among  mortals  (such  as  
walk  through  walls  or  jump  over  buildings).  ^_~.  
 
Also,  for  those  who  would  suggest  Byakuya  is  acting  OOC  in  this  fic,  I  would  like  to  
point  out  two  things.    
 
One,  he  is  under  the  influence  of  a  strange  aphrodisiac  (composed  of  who-­â€knows-­ ;â€
what).    
 
Two,  guys  are  notoriously  dull-­â€witted  when  physically  aroused.  Seriously:  there  is  a  
chemical  reaction  wherein  their  intellect  drops  with  the  little  blood  flow  going  to  
their  brain.    
 
Other  than  that,  creative  license  and  all  that  blah  blah.  Please  enjoy  and  review!!  
 
 
 
&Ac irc; 
 
 
Heat.   It  licked  along  her  limbs,  drawing  a  fine  sweat  from  her  skin  as  the  persistent  
warmth  hovered  in  the  air.  It  felt  thick;  making  her  feel  like  some  kind  of  muffin  
baking  within  an  oven.  She  paused  for  a  second,  vainly  trying  to  untangle  her  fingers  
from  the  shopping  bags  so  that  she  might  wipe  some  of  the  perspiration  from  her  
brow.    
 
“Aw,  ra ts…!† 
 
I t  didn’t  really  work  out  so  well.  A  jar  of  peanut  butter  shifted  precariously  before  
escaping  and  thumping  onto  the  grass.  Orihime  stuck  out  her  tongue  at  the  
rebellious  container,  a  bemused  amusement  carding  through  her  thoughts.  Could  
have  been  worse…my  jar  of  red  bean  paste  isn’t  made  of  plastic!  
 

---

The  teen  shifted  awkwardly,  putting  down  some  of  her  groceries  as  she  rescued  the  
hard-­â€to-­â&euro ;find  American  delicacy,  nestling  it  back  in  place.  Huffing  a  sigh,  she  gingerly  
picked  up  the  bags  and  set  off  once  more.    
 
Summer  was  here,  and  while  it  promised  a  coming  holiday  from  school,  the  ripening  
of  the  season  undeniably  bordered  on  discomfort.  Orihime  grew  hopeful  from  the  
fact  that  at  least  the  sun  was  finally  setting.  Its  absence  would  surely  allow  for  a  cool  
respite.  She  couldn’t  recall  it  being  this  hot  and  sticky  in  Karakura  for  a  long  while.  
Maybe  not  since  primary  school.  
 
She  hummed  gladly  to  herself,  enjoying  the  short-­â€cut Â&nb sp;through  the  park  as  fireflies  
sparked  in  the  gathering  darkness.  The  grass  ruffled  as  she  crushed  it  underfoot,  its  
sweet  smell  lending  to  her  daydream  of  impending  dinner.  She  could  hardly  wait  to  
try  out  her  latest  experimentation  of  hummus,  peanut  butter,  potato  bread,  veggie-­&ac irc;€
burger  patties…  
 
A  sudden  heave  of  awareness,  like  the  gut-­â€wrenching  ; sensation  of  riding  an  elevator  
violently  upwards,  ripped  Orihime  from  her  idle  musings.  
It  didn’t  feel  ominous.  So  that  meant  it  wasn’t  an  enemy.  The  reiatsu  wasn’t  
threatening  to  choke  her.  So  that  ruled  out  Hollows….  But  it  was  strong,  almost  
crushing.  Clearly  the  level  of  a  captain…but  it  wasn’t  Kurosak i-­â€kun.  Yet,  somehow…it  
felt  familiar…and  if  she  wasn’t  mistakenâ€&b rvbar;somewhat  subdued.  Like  the  individual  
casting  it  was  making  a  difficult  effort  to  mask  its  presence.  Trying  and  failing,  more  
like…  
 
 
A  shinigami  this  powerful  should  be  able  to  nearly  mask  his  or  her  presence  
completely.  Not  only  that,  but  the  reiatsu  of  a  shinigami  shouldn’t  feel  this  
dense…mixed  up,  somehow.  Like  sugar  that  had  fallen  amidst  grains  of  sand,  
indiscernible  in  a  careless  glance,  but  undeniably  different  upon  inspection.  
 
Could  they  be  in  trouble…?  She  bit  her  lip,  senses  tingling  as  she  tried  to  calm  down  
and  think.  As  of  so  far,  there  was  no  reason  to  over-­â€react.  She  just  needed  to  take  a  
breath  and  concentrate…try  to  pinpoint  from  which  direction  it  was  emanating.     
 
A  tingling  thread  wove  through  her  senses,  giving  Orihime  a  general  sense  of  where  
the  visitor  from  Soul  Society  was.  Hiking  up  her  bags,  she  set  a  determined  pace.  
 
Heat.  It  spilled  out  of  him,  rivaling  the  acrid  warmth  already  in  the  air.  He  grimaced,  
shoving  his  palm  against  the  searing  wound  in  order  to  slow  the  bleeding.  Already  
he  could  feel  the  effects  of  the  immense  blood  loss:  his  vision  a  roiling  vestige  of  
nauseating  color.  It  was  not  unlike  being  drunk.  
 
He  gritted  his  teeth,  unwilling  to  fully  admit  to  his  own  recklessness:  to  have  pit  
himself  against  an  unmeasured  foe,  only  to  retreat  by  use  of  shun-­â€po  at  the  cost  of  
further  deteriorating  his  weakened  condition.  

---

 
In  any  case,  he  doubted  that  he’d  have  been  able  to  summon  a  Senkaimon  in  order  
to  exact  a  hasty  retreat.  He  hadn’t  the  time,  and  furthermore  had  not  desired  to  risk  
a  chance  that  an  enemy  be  allowed  entrance  to  the  Soul  Society.  He’d  had  a  feeling  
that  was  part  of  what  the  Arrancar  had  wanted.  
 
For  what  reason  or  motive  he  was  unsure.  But  instinct  had  him  trusting  to  the  fact  
that  he  had  made  the  appropriate  decision.  
 
He  had  visited  the  human  world  without  orders,  using  the  private  Senkaimon  on  the  
Kuchiki  grounds.  Restlessness  had  weakened  his  usual  iron  judgment  in  face  of  a  
peculiar  urge  to  walk  along  the  shore  of  the  human  world.     
 
In  reflection,  perhaps  that  had  not  been  his  doing.  The  hybrid—Alma  Gemela,  she  
had  called  herself,  had  bragged  of  his  answering  her  summons.  Much  as  he  resented  
it,  he  could  not  rule  out  the  possibility  that  a  modicum  of  truth  lay  in  that  boast.  
 
He  had,  after  all,  made  the  crossing  without  the  natural  precaution  of  Senbonzakura  
sheathed  securely  at  his  side.  Doubtless  that  had  been  part  of  her  ploy:  somehow  
being  coerced  into  leaving  it  behind,  a  feat  in  and  of  itself.  To  be  without  it  was  akin  
to  missing  a  limb.  
 
It  quickly  became  apparent  that  she  had  thought  to  entice  him:  a  strange  tactic.  He  
had  been  disgusted  by  her  brazen  assumption  that  she  would  be  able  to  seduce  him,  
and  cursed  himself  a  fool  for  leaving  his  precious  zanpaku-­â€to &Aci rc; behind.  
 
Still,  whatever  her  intentions,  any  further  action  on  her  part  was  something  he  could  
not  allow.  Her  words  in  recall  were  now  becoming  too  hazy  to  remember.  
Something  to  do  with  breeding…    
 
He  had  engaged  her  in  battle,  during  which  her  sultry  looks  and  wicked  mirth  had  
quickly  evaporated  into  a  grim  determination.  The  wounds  he  had  doled  out  to  her  
had  doubtless  been  fatal,  but  hers  repaid  in  kind  had  been  far  more  lingering.  
 
The  Arrancar  had  been  unnatural:  for  her  treacherous  touch  rendered  more  than  
torn  flesh.  It  had  been  infected  with  a  kind  of  poison,  which  even  now  pumped  
through  his  veins.  It  itched  like  fire,  clawing  its  way  past  his  lungs  and  toward  his  
heart.  
 
The  dull  pulse  of  a  familiar  reiatsu  materialized  through  the  haze  of  agony.  He  
recognized  it’s  personal  signature  with  little  interest.  He  had  little  faith  that  the  
human  girl  would  be  capable  of  any  assistance.  He  might  have  merely  walked  away.  
But  the  throbbing  ache  in  his  side  didn’t  allow  for  such  frivolity.  And  by  this  point  he  
was  having  trouble  keeping  the  world  from  spinning.  
 

---

Orihime  was  stunned.   So  much  so,  that  she  nearly  tripped  in  her  haste  to  thrust  
aside  her  groceries  and  scurry  to  the  grievously  wounded  Rokubantai  Taicho.  
 
“Kuchiki  Taicho!  What  happened?!  Where  are  you  hurt?!† 
 
Byakuya  closed  his  eyes  in  irritation.  Not  so  much  because  of  the  girl  in  question,  
but  her  high-­â€pitched   squeal  did  nothing  to  ease  the  violent  pounding  of  his  head.  
And  at  her  approach,  a  strange  apprehension  whispered  through  his  limbs,  almost  
locking  him  in  place.  
 
Orihime  realized  that  she  needed  to  get  a  grip.  Obviously  Kuchiki-­â€sama  was  
seriously  hurt.  And  her  shrieking  wasn’t  doing  him  any  good.  She  lowered  her  voice,  
trying  to  keep  it  calm  and  soothing.  Much  like  the  same  tone  of  voice  Sora  used  on  
her  as  a  child,  when  she  had  scrapped  her  knee.  
 
“ Kuchiki  Taicho,  I  must  see  to  your  injuries.  Are  you  able  to  move?  How  many  
fingers  am  I  holding  up…† The  husky  lull  from  her  mouth  had  his  rapt  attention,  so  
much  so  that  the  strength  of  his  reaction  momentarily  stunned  him.  What  was  
wrong  with  him?  
 
What  senseless  drivel  had  Alma  Gemela  been  uttering…?  Something  about  the  
venom  she  had  injected  him  with;  the  fluid  that  had  flown  from  her  nails  as  she  
sliced  into  his  flesh  with  her  hand…A  warmth  was  now  spreading…webbing   
throughout  his  body  in  flourishing  threads.  Trying  to  concentrate,  he  averted  his  
gaze  from  the  girl.  
 
“ How  far  is  your  inhabitance?† The  question  had  not  been  rudely  meant,  but  the  
abruptness  of  it  had  surprised  her.  Still,  she  dutifully  answered  in  that  same  husky  
tone  of  voice,  unwilling  to  admit  that  the  detached  demeanor  of  the  question  
bothered  her.  
 
“â€&brvba r;Only  another  block.  It’s  that  building  right  over  there… ;† She  ambiguously  
gestured  toward  an  apartment  building,  concern  etched  in  her  pretty  features.  His  
eyes  flickered  in  the  general  direction,  quickly  coming  to  his  own  decision  as  he  
noted  the  location.    
 
“Pick  up  your  things.† She  didn’t  hide  her  surprise  nearly  so  well  the  second  time.  In  
fact,  she  seemed  a  little  hurt.  And  further  more:  unwilling  to  do  so.  He  grit  his  teeth.  
 
â€&oelig ;Please.† 
 
This  time,  her  shock  was  palpable.  She  doubted  many  in  all  of  the  Seireitei  had  ever  
heard  that  particular  word  pass  those  noble  lips.  Taking  that  into  consideration,  she  
obliged.  She  had  to  trust  that  there  was  a  purpose  in  his  request.  Although  hopefully  
that  doesn’t  entail  dying  out  here  alone  on  the  pavement!  The  teen  was  well  aware  to  
the  extent  of  the  Taicho’s  pride.  She  had  heard  Rukia-­â€chan  once  compare  her  

---

brother  to  Kurosaki-­â€kun.   Both  were  stubborn,  and  had  undeniable  issues  when  it  
came  to  their  judgment  being  questioned.  
 
Orihime  had  hardly  finished  gathering  her  numerous  bags  before  the  wind  was  
knocked  out  of  her.  It  hardly  registered  that  Byakuya  had  grasped  her  in  his  arms,  
grocery  bags  and  all,  before  using  a  shun-­â€po  to  her  apartment  building.  
 
In  the  span  of  what  felt  like  two  heartbeats,  they  arrived  at  her  door.  Either  he  
remembered  where  she  lived  from  detailed  reports  of  the  Secret  Remote  Squad  
while  harboring  Hitsuguya  Taicho  and  Matsumoto  Fukutaicho  before  the  Winter  
War,  or  he  had  traced  her  lodging  based  on  the  lingering  presence  of  her  reiatsu.  She  
decided  it  was  more  likely  the  latter.  She  actually  doubted  he  even  knew  her  name,  
let  alone  recall  her  address  from  a  field  report.  
 
“Kuchiki  Taicho!  That  was  reckless!  You’re  already  injured!  What  were  you  
thinking?!  And  in  that  condition!† She  fought  to  keep  her  voice  low,  but  scolded  him  
with  it  nonetheless.  He  closed  his  eyes  at  the  sound  of  it,  unwilling  to  admit  to  the  
effect  it  was  having  on  him.  It  is  the  poison.  Nothing  more.  
 
She  scrabbled  with  her  keys,  fussing  as  she  did  so.  His  dry,  deep  voice  cut  through  
her  complaints.  
 
 
“W hatever  my  condition,  it  will  not  worsen,  and  I  refuse  to  allow  it  to  be  treated  
while  in  the  middle  of  the  street.† Orihime  rolled  her  eyes,  huffing  a  sigh  as  she  
mumbled  more  to  herself  than  him  as  she  bustled  inside.  
 
“Well  technically,  it  was  a  park…†Â& nbsp;…and  what’s  over  is  done…I  guess  healing  him  here  
will  be  more  practical.  Whatever  injured  him  may  still  be  out  there...  She  tossed  her  
bagged  food  onto  the  counter,  intending  to  deal  with  it  later  as  she  kicked  off  her  
sandals.  
 
 Finding  that  the  proud  Taicho  of  Rokubantai  had  not  immediately  followed  her,  
Orihime  rushed  back  to  the  door  and  grasped  his  hand,  practically  dragging  him  
inside  before  locking  up  the  apartment.  He  had  been  leaning  against  the  doorjamb,  
obviously  trying  to  disguise  the  extent  of  his  brittle  condition.  
 
She  sensed  his  hesitation  in  entering  her  home.  But  that  could  be  attributed  to  his  
discomfort  of  numerous  injuries.  Throwing  a  glance  over  her  shoulder,  she  realized  
it  was  largely  due  to  something  else  altogether.  The  obvious  shock  of  having  been  
touched  without  permission  was  baldly  apparent  in  his  eyes.  
 
She  nearly  rolled  her  own  in  exasperation.  Permission  and  whatever  other  trivial  
formalities  could  hang!  Still,  she  released  him  so  that  he  could  regain  a  modicum  of  
dignity  as  she  rushed  to  unpack  her  futon  and  pillows,  pretending  to  have  noticed  
nothing.    

---

 
“Don’t  bother  with  your  shoes!!  Just—hurry,  take  off  your  scarf  and  shihakusho!  Lay  
down  on  this…†  
 
The  searing  warmth  of  their  brief  contact  still  lingered  within  the  recess  of  his  mind.  
The  ghost  of  her  touch  fading  to  a  dull  tingle….An  almost  palpable  ache.  He  refused  
to  give  a  name  to  it.  A  dull  dread  was  beginning  to  take  root  deep  inside  of  him,  one  
that  centered  on  the  ramifications  of  the  poison  now  within  his  person.  
 
She  seemed  unaware  as  she  rushed  about.  For  that,  he  was  rather  grateful.  His  
movements  were  becoming  uncoordinated,  and  the  pain  wrested  a  grimace  from  his  
lips  as  he  slowly  disrobed  the  upper  portion  of  his  body.  He  nearly  gave  a  hiss  of  
breath  as  he  peeled  fabric  from  drying  blood.  
 
When  the  girl  turned  to  assist  him,  he  espied  a  slight  flush  over  her  skin  as  she  gave  
a  discreet  appraisal.  It  had  been  quick  and  nigh  indiscernible,  nonetheless  years  of  
astute  observation  allowed  him  to  notice.  As  gently  and  swiftly  as  possible,  she  
helped  him  to  the  futon  so  that  he  lay  flat  upon  its  surface.  
 
He  shivered  at  her  touch,  though  the  contact  this  time  was  brief.  He  was  not  cold.  
Rather,  his  flesh  felt  afire.  He  feared  to  give  a  name  to  it.  A  forbidden  flame  he  had  
not  felt  in  decades.  Desire…  
 
For  an  ephemeral,  fleeting  moment,  he  willed  the  impossible.  That  the  girl  would  
heal  him;  the  aphrodisiac  now  singing  within  his  blood  would  be  gone  as  though  it  
had  never  been.  And  the  nearness  of  the  mortal  and  her  sensuous  curves  would  
cease  to  inflict  such  craving…  He  held  to  hope,  anxiety  cresting  his  body’s  throbbing  
torrent  of  afflictions.  
 
Seconds  stretched  into  minutes,  which  lengthened  into  what  felt  like  hours.  Beneath  
her  shield  of  time  reversal,  he  felt  his  flesh  heal  and  knit.  Blood  that  had  soaked  his  
side  returned  beneath  his  skin.  But  the  heat  refused  to  abate.  At  least  not  entirely;  
rather,  it  felt  like  it  had  dwindled  into  embers,  breathing  beneath  his  skin.  Which  at  
any  moment  might  quicken  into  flame.  
 
It  should  be  fine.  The  physical  manifestation  of  its  influence  should  begin  to  diminish,  
in  time.  He  could  not  admit  to  his  current  weakness,  though.  He  would  be  chagrined  
if  she  were  to  notice  anything  unusual.  She  was  an  innocent,  and  best  protected  by  
ignorance  of  his  physical  person.  
 
“You  may  desist.† The  shield  shattered,  and  she  fought  against  the  urge  to  scoot  back  
and  away  from  him.  She  grinned  nervously,  scratching  idly  at  the  back  of  her  head  to  
cover  her  discomfort.  Sheesh…what&ac irc;€™s  wrong  with  me?  It’s  only  Rukia-­chan’s  brother…  
 
“Oh!  Um,  glad  you’re  feeling  be tter…† Fathomless  azure  eyes  bore  into  her  own,  and  
for  some  reason,  she  couldn’t  quite  make  eye  contact.  Which  was  rather  unlike  her.  

---

Probably  could  be  contributed  to  the  fact  that  he  wasn’t  wearing  a  shirt.  She  had  
seen  Kurosaki-­â€kun  without  a  shirt  countless  times…but  Kuchiki-­ ;â€sama…it  was  
different  somehow.  
 
 Here  was  a  man  who  had  lost  the  wiry  frame  of  youth.  With  thick,  corded  muscle  
and  cut  abs  that  usually  remained  hidden  behind  the  richest  of  fabrics,  he  was  a  
regal,  willowy  figure  of  raw  masculinity.  It  nearly  made  her  blush  scarlet.  
 
But  in  spite  of  this  distraction,  for  some  reason  or  other,  her  intuition  was  screaming  
that  something  about  him  seemed  a  little…off.  What  was  more,  it  felt  like  a  hovering  
presence  still  lingered.  As  if  he  wasn’t  fully  healed.  It  tingled  at  the  edge  of  her  
senses.  You’re  imagining  things.  He’s  obviously  feeling  betterâ&euro ;¦you’re  over-­reacting.  
 
She  got  up,  intending  to  distract  herself  by  putting  up  the  groceries  and  preparing  
the  evening  meal.  She  put  away  the  ice  cream  first,  hoping  it  hadn’t  melted  beyond  
repair.  
 
“Soâ€&brv bar;um…would  you  like  to  stay  for  dinner?† He  regarded  her  with  a  cool  look,  
momentarily  distracted  by  half-­â€remembered &Acir c; words.  
 
Toca  el  caliente  de  la  noche…despierta,  sangre &Acir c; caliente…He  blinked  hard,  willing  the  
remembered  mantra  Alma  Gemela  had  giddily  chanted  to  fall  back  into  the  inner  
recesses  of  his  mind.  He  would  mull  over  them  later,  in  private.    
 
He  briefly  considered  declining  her  offer.  However,  she  had  in  fact  just  pulled  him  
back  from  the  precipice  of  what  had  surely  been  death.  The  least  he  could  muster  to  
pay  back  his  debt  would  be  to  break  bread  with  the  young  woman.  He  disliked  being  
indebted  to  anyone.  It  was  an  alien,  unwelcome  feeling.  
 
“That  would  be  agreeable.† She  immediately  brightened  at  the  admission,  perplexing  
him  with  the  intensity  of  her  hundred-­â€watt- ­â€smile.  
 
â€& oelig;Great!  Okay,  let  me  show  you  what  we’re  having!† She  chatted  and  hummed  
amiably  while  she  worked:  cooking  the  tofu-­â€burger Â& nbsp;patties  in  a  skillet  with  
vegetable  oil  on  the  stove  as  she  spread  peanut  butter  and  hummus  on  slices  of  
potato  bread.  In  mere  minutes,  she  had  assembled  the  bread,  patties,  and  lettuce  
into  what  she  referred  to  as  ‘sandwichesâ€&tr ade;.  
 
“Itâ&eur o;™s  really  good!  I  mean,  not  as  great  as  red  bean  paste,  but  I  think  it’s  probably  my  
third  favorite  meal  combo.  Okay,  maybe  second  since  pomegranate-­ ;â€ripple  ice  cream  
on  top  of  green  tea  biscotti  doesn’t  count  as  a  meal.  Well,  maybe  as  dessert,  but  I  
guess  technically  that’s  not  a  meal.  More  like  an  encore.  Still,  when  they’re  in  
combination  like  this,  it  all  tastes  really  good!† 
 

---

He  stared  uncomprehendingly  at  the  supposedly  edible  structures.  She  trailed  off,  
unsure  what  to  make  of  his  facial  expression.  She  coughed  lightly,  pushing  his  plate  
toward  him  on  the  counter.  
 
“Uhâ€&brv bar;would  you  like  anything  to  drink?† He  inclined  his  head  graciously.  
 
Humming  quietly  to  herself  in  order  to  lighten  the  mood,  Orihime  turned  and  
procured  two  glasses  from  a  kitchen  cabinet.  It  was  odd,  serving  a  member  of  a  
noble  family  in  her  humble  apartment.  She  had  assumed  Kuchiki-­â€sama &Ac irc; would  
decline  her  offer  of  a  meal.  
 
Not  that  she  was  complaining.  She  was  glad  of  the  company.  On  a  hot  summer  
evening  like  tonight,  company  was  a  welcome  distraction  from  the  heat  and  
humidity  that  lingered  after  the  long  day.  It  hadn’t  cooled  off  like  she  had  hoped  it  
would.  Unfortunately,  her  air-­â€conditioning &Ac irc; was  also  once  again  on  the  fritz.  But  
eating  a  companionable  meal  with  her  friend’s  brother  could  be  a  worthwhile  
diversion  from  the  discomfort.  
 
Orihime  filled  the  cups  with  ice  before  adding  water  from  a  pitcher  in  the  fridge,  and  
turned.  She  paused,  momentarily  distracted  at  the  sight  of  him.  Contrary  to  what  she  
would  have  assumed,  the  taicho  had  made  no  movement  to  redress.  She  handed  him  
his  glass,  fighting  a  blush  as  she  broached  the  question.  
 
â€&oe lig;Would  you…ah…like  me  to  wash  your  shihakusho?  I  can  probably  get  most  of  the  
blood  off…† Her  body  betrayed  her,  the  flush  evident  on  her  skin.  
 
“Thank  you,  but  that  will  not  be  necessary.† She  bobbed  her  head,  picking  up  her  
plate  as  she  led  them  both  to  the  small  table  and  sat  down.  
 
“ Yeah,  okay.  Anyway,  it’s  so  hot…youâ€&trade ;re  probably  more  comfortable  like  that  
anyway…† Suddenly  realizing  how  rude  that  sounded,  she  crammed  the  food  into  
her  mouth,  chewing  as  if  to  swallow  the  words  that  had  escaped  her.  Thankfully,  he  
chose  not  to  comment.  Instead,  he  hesitantly  bit  into  the  sandwich,  startled  at  the  
pleasant  wash  of  flavors  that  hit  his  tongue.  
 
Orihime  didn’t  bother  to  hide  her  pleasure  at  his  subtle  reaction.  She  smiled  as  she  
took  another  bite.  Until  Matsumoto  Fukutaicho  had  come  along,  Orihime  would  have  
sworn  that  there  was  something  wrong  with  her  taste  buds.  After  all,  no  one—not  
even  Tatsuki-­â€chan,  seemed  to  care  for  her  taste  in  food.   However  lately,  she  had  
been  encouraged  to  experiment  even  more  than  usual.  She  had  found  it  especially  
enjoyable  to  do  with  foreign  foods,  resulting  in  their  current  meal.  
 
She  finished  quickly,  having  been  famished.  Unwilling  to  remain  idle,  she  set  about  
tidying  up  as  she  kept  up  a  steady  stream  of  one-­â€sided Â&nbs p;conversation  while  Byakuya  
ate.  
 

---

“So  do  you  feel  better?  I  mean,  I  wasn’t  certain  that—†&Ac irc; 
 
“I  am  sufficiently  recovered.† She  nodded,  folding  up  her  futon  and  setting  it  aside  
rather  than  putting  it  up.  She  would  be  going  to  bed  soon,  anyway.  She  headed  to  the  
sink  and  began  to  wash  her  plate  and  glass.  
 
“Stillâ€& brvbar;I’d  feel  better  if  you  hung  around  for  another  thirty  minutes  or  so.  Just  in  case.  
Or,  if  you’d  rather  head  back  to  the  seireitei,  I’d  recommend  you  see  Unohana  Taicho  
right  away  to  make  sure—† ; 
 
 
“I  will  linger  to  assuage  your  worries.† He  cut  in  smoothly.  He  seemed  to  do  that  a  
lot.  Interrupting  her.  Must  be  a  ‘noble’ & Acirc; thing.  But  at  least  he  isn’t  putting  up  a  fight.  
Whatever  caused  his  injuries,  they  sure  felt…strange.  She  beamed  at  him,  taking  his  
empty  plate  to  the  sink.  
 
“So  I  was  thinking  I  would  take  a  bath.  Would  you  like  to  take  one?† He  nearly  
wrinkled  his  nose  in  distaste.  The  idea  of  redressing  in  soiled  clothing  was  
repugnant.  
 
“â€&brvba r;No.  Thank  you.† She  bobbed  her  head,  as  if  expecting  his  answer,  inciting  his  
interest  as  to  why  she  had  bothered  to  offer.  
 
“Then  would  you  like  some  tea?  It  shouldn’t  take  that  long.  I  have  green  tea,  
strawberry  tea,  peach  tea,  sakura  tea,  jasmine  tea…†&Ac irc; 
 
“Jasmine  would  be  appreciated.† Huh& acirc;€¦I’d  have  wagered  on  the  sakura…she  mused,  
before  chirping,  “Coming  right  up!† She  filled  the  kettle  with  water,  before  setting  it  
onto  the  stove  to  boil.  She  started  rummaging  through  the  upper  kitchen  cabinet,  
bemused  when  she  only  came  across  an  earl  grey  and  an  oolong.  Must  have  
crammed  it  higher  up  than  I  thought…She  got  onto  her  tiptoes,  rooting  around  
deeper,  oblivious  to  the  effect  she  was  having  on  her  companion.  
 
His  knuckles  had  turned  white  from  clenching  his  hands  into  fists;  a  vain  attempt  at  
control.  With  an  incomprehensible  logic,  he  wished  the  pain  from  his  injuries  would  
return,  if  only  the  distraction  they  would  now  offer.  While  it  was  indeed  overly  
warm  in  the  girl’s  living  quarters,  he  knew  the  sweat  now  bathing  his  skin  could  not  
entirely  be  attributed  to  it.  
 
Her  back  arched  delicately,  shapely;  beautiful  skin  escaping  the  thin  material  of  
what  he  had  once  overheard  Matsumoto  Fukutaicho  refer  to  as  a  ‘tank  topâ ;€™.  The  
straps  were  strained,  even  from  the  back,  with  holding  the  garment  together.  Her  
skirt  was  barely  agreeable  to  where  decency  was  concerned.  As  it  was,  the  young  
woman’s  bottom  threatened  an  appearance  should  the  girl  reach  much  higher.  
 
 

---

Before  it  fully  registered,  he  found  himself  only  a  step  behind  her.  True,  he  had  
never  truly  looked  at  the  girl  before.  Yet  whether  it  was  purely  the  influence  of  the  
aphrodisiac  or  not,  he  was  looking  at  her  now.  And  the  fire  in  his  blood  burned.  
 
Concern  tightened  her  brows,  and  she  bit  her  temptingly  full  bottom  lip.  When  had  
she  turned  around?  He  vaguely  registered  that  she  held  the  package  of  sought-­â€after Â& nbsp;
jasmine  tea  in  her  hands.  
 
“Kuchiki  Taicho,  are  you  feeling  all  right?† 
 
She  felt  exposed,  suddenly.  Like  she  had  forgotten  to  wear  clothes.  A  cursory  glance  
confirmed  their  presence.  He  had  never  before  looked  at  her  without  it  being  in  a  
somewhat  supercilious  manner.  Like  she  was  beneath  his  notice.  Now  her  very  flesh  
tingled  beneath  his  penetrating  stare,  and  its  raw  intensity  kind  of  made  her  want  to  
melt  into  the  floor  and  disappear.  
 
Sure,  she  had  just  healed  him  and  shared  a  meal…  So  she  could  understand  some  
differences  in  his  general  attitude  toward  her.  But  now…she  was  feeling  uneasy…  
Like  the  universe  had  somehow  shifted  a  little  to  the  left,  and  she  was  just  now  
scrambling  to  find  her  equilibrium  with  the  person  in  front  of  her  that  had  caused  it  
to  move.  
 
“There  was…a  miscalculationâ&e uro;¦â€  He  groaned  softly,  feeling  the  sharp  rise  of  his  
blood.  The  arousal  harvested  within  was  growing  exponentially.  It  had  been  a  
mistake  to  take  in  her  visage.  It  was  becoming  harder  to  focus.  He  braced  a  hand  on  
either  side  of  the  kitchen  counter,  striving  to  anchor  himself  as  a  dizzying  wash  of  
her  fragrance  whispered  from  her  ginger  hair.  
 
“ A  miscalculation?  What  do  you  mean?  What’s  wrong?  Talk  to  me—“ &Ac irc; She  was  a  
kaleidoscope  of  movement  and  color.  Beautiful  curves  bouncing  softly  as  she  
reached  for  him.  He  pressed  his  forehead  hungrily  against  her  palm  as  Orihime  
sought  to  gauge  his  temperature,  willfully  oblivious  to  his  hands  upon  the  counter,  
entrapping  her.  
 
“Kami!  You’re  burning  up!  I’ll  go  get  some  ice  from  the  freezer.† The  loss  of  her  
sweet  skin  against  his  own;  of  her  hand  no  longer  upon  him  was  an  unfathomable  
thing.  She  seemed  to  realize  his  caging  embrace,  and  gently  pushed  at  his  arm  as  she  
sought  the  refrigerator.  
 
  ;His  reaction  was  immediate;  in  a  movement  he  had  grasped  her  wrist,  his  other  
hand  brushing  her  side,  stepping  her  backward  so  that  she  was  fully  pressed  against  
the  counter.  It  forced  her  to  thrust  out  her  chest,  bewilderment  painting  a  panic  
across  her  pretty  features.    
 
 
“T aicho!  What  are  you  doing?  You  need  a  cold  compress—â€&oe lig;  

---

 
 
If  anything,  it  felt  as  though  the  potency  of  the  venom’s  presence  brewed  stronger  
than  ever  before  within  his  veins.  Too  much  time  had  passed.  He  felt  his  mouth  go  
dry,  his  tongue  stick  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth  as  he  tried  to  warn  her.  He  needed  to  
warn  her.  
 
“Inoue-­& acirc;€san,† She  fell  silent  at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  Though  whether  it  was  out  of  
fear  of  his  actions  or  surprise  at  hearing  her  own  name  pass  his  lips,  neither  could  
be  sure.  
 
Perhaps  it  was  the  length  of  time  the  poison  had  inhabited  his  body;  its  influence  
was  now  tantamount.  He  no  longer  felt  inhibited.  The  heat  caused  by  the  
aphrodisiac  had  taken  root,  making  him  burn  at  the  core,  and  then  the  unexpected  
happened.  He  found  that  he  welcomed  this  awakened  carnality.  
 
Passion  thought  to  be  long  dead,  buried  deep  alongside  the  memory  of  his  wife,  
ripped  brutally  through  him.  Much  as  he  might  later  come  to  rue  this  moment,  the  
abandonment  of  an  iron  will  was  something  he  now  craved.  Though  rigid  discipline  
carried  him  through  the  empty  moments  ,wherein  he  felt  the  need  to  be  in  control,  
he  embraced  this  brief  severance  from  it.  He  surrendered  to  it.  He  needed  it.  He  
needed  her.  He  felt  alive.  For  the  first  time  in  over  fifty  years.  
 
Only  a  taste…  
 
His  mouth  devoured  hers  in  desperation,  and  her  lips  parted  in  shock  at  the  contact.  
He  took  advantage  of  the  unmeaning  invitation,  slipping  his  tongue  past  her  own  to  
ravage  her  completely.  The  taste  became  a  decadent  repast,  and  he  was  gone.  
 
He  was  like  a  starving  man,  relishing  the  sweet  flavor  and  feel  of  her  as  his  hand  
tangled  into  the  thick  locks  of  her  soft  auburn  hair.  He  swallowed  the  sound  of  her  
budding  protest,  answering  back  with  a  groan  rich  with  lust.  
 
This  isn’t  happeningâ€&b rvbar;This  can’t  be  happening…!!  The  mantra  poured  through  her  
head  in  a  maelstrom  of  shock  and  adrenaline,  stuck  in  repeat.    He  had  snapped.  That  
had  to  be  the  only  explanation.  That  feeling  she’d  had,  of  something  still  being  
wrong,  had  been  wretchedly  right.  Whatever  he  had  fought,  obviously  had  left  more  
than  met  the  eye.  
 
She  hiccupped  back  another  gasp  as  he  restlessly  moved  to  her  throat,  leaving  a  
liquid  trail  of  bruising  love  bites  down  her  neck  and  across  her  collarbone.  
Seemingly  memorizing  the  texture  as  he  did  the  taste.  Kami,  she  was  so  stupid.  
Willfully  ignoring  the  signs  of  what  should  have  been  blazingly  clear.    He’d  left  his  
shirt  off,  for  goodness  sake.  That  had  been  a  sign  in  and  of  itself,  muggy  apartment  
or  no.  
 

---

“Taicho!⠀  She’d  have  liked  to  sound  more  outraged,  but  as  it  was  Orihime’s  voice  
came  out  more  than  a  little  breathless.  Her  hands,  idle  in  shock,  now  pressed  against  
his  form.  But  in  coming  in  contact  with  the  hard  muscles  of  his  stomach,  his  chest,  
slick  with  perspiration,  she  felt  unbearably  weak.    
 
She  violently  turned  her  head,  seeking  to  at  least  dissuade  his  questing  mouth,  biting  
her  bottom  lip  as  he  nibbled  along  her  jaw  to  her  sensitive  ear,  unperturbed.  She  
had  to  think!  Unconsciously,  the  tips  of  her  fingers  brushed  against  an  errant  nipple  
on  his  chest,  straining  forward  in  his  arousal.  She  froze  at  the  sound  of  his  raw  
groan,  and  hiccupped  back  a  squeak.    
 
 He  roughly  pulled  down  the  straps  of  her  bra  and  shirt,  remedying  their  
obstruction.  His  sinful  mouth  now  kissed  dangerously  lower,  skimming  briefly  to  
pepper  over  her  shoulders  before  brutally  suckling  a  lace-­â& euro;imprisoned  nipple,  freed  
from  her  tank  top.  She  jerked  backward,  trying  to  untangle  herself  from  his  grasp.  
 
But  her  lush  curves  had  nowhere  to  go.  And  the  linoleum-­â€encrusted & Acirc; counter  wasn’t  
the  only  reason.  His  hand  now  slipped  across  her  lower  back  and  roughly  pressed  
her  against  his  own  taught  form,  trapping  her  hands.    
 
Her  panty-­â€clad  core  was  crushed  against  the  proof  of  his  arousal;  chagrined,  she  felt  
the  rushing  liquid  heat  of  her  body’s  own  answer.  
 
Tha—thatâ&e uro;™s  his….!!  This&aci rc;€”this  isn’t  right.  He  doesn’t  mean  this.  He’ll  hate  himself  if  this  
goes  too  far…Whatever†™s  in  his  system…from  what  he  fought…  is  making  him  like  this.  
It’s—it&acir c;€™s  not  for  me…andâ€&brvba r;and  I  can’t  let  it  go  too  far…Dare  she  ask  how  far  that  was?  
She  didn’t  bother  to  focus  on  answering  that.  Let  alone  that  other  little  detail  about  
being  able  to  dissuade  his  advances.  Instead,  she  began  to  struggle.    She  needed  to  
get  through  to  him.  She  writhed  against  him,  hoping  to  twist  out  of  his  grip,  
somehow.  
 
Tatsuki  had  once  told  her  that  she  had  some  potential  martial  skill.  She  had  even  
taught  her  a  few  moves.  But  it  would  be  a  lie  to  say  she  knew  anything  specific  about  
breaking  out  of  firm  holds,  let  alone  one  where  she  didn’t  want  to  necessarily  injure  
her  opponent  in  the  process.  
 
“Kuchiâ€& rdquo;Kuchiki-­â€sa—Ooh!â&eu ro;  A  shriek  escaped  her  at  the  feel  of  skillful  fingers  
slipping  past  wet  cotton  and  lace,  over  the  lips  of  her  sex,  probing  gently.  Even  then,  
he  had  not  ceased  suckling  at  her  like  a  starving  babe.  Switching  to  lave  the  other  
distended  breast  with  equal,  ardent  attention.  
 
The  useless  material  of  her  shirt  and  bra  was  suddenly  shoved  further  down,  
serving  now  only  to  prop  up  her  chest  and  lock  her  arms  in  place.  The  frustrating  
fabric  inhibited  movement  even  further  as  her  flesh  was  bared  to  his  hungry  lips.  
 

---

She  wriggled  in  protest,  a  turmoil  of  desire  and  frustration  welling  inside  of  her.  
Suddenly  Orihime  was  rocketing  upwards,  shocked  at  the  feeling  of  Byakuya  
Kuchicki  thrusting  a  finger  into  her  tight,  wet  channel.  
 
His  cloth-­â€covered  length  was  being  ground  against  her  thigh,  and  she  felt  herself  
bite  back  a  moan  at  the  ridged  feel  of  him,  before  erupting  with  a  shriek.  He  had  
discovered…something,  with  the  pad  of  his  thumb;  a  small  bundle  of  nerves  that  had  
her  writhing  for  an  entirely  different  reason.  Yet  her  mind  was  not  too  far-­â€gone  to  
resume  her  struggle.  
 
“Taicho†¦you  need…,† a  whimper  cut  across  her  panting  breath,  and  she  grimaced  in  
pleasure,† Kami…you  needâ€&br vbar;to  stop…Ahh!†Â&nbs p;In  a  quick,  fluid  movement,  he  had  
released  her  limbs  by  stepping  back,  only  to  crouch  before  her.    His  enticing  hands  
wrapped  about  her  thighs  as  his  dangerous  mouth  brushed  against  her  sex.  
 
She  grasped  the  edge  of  the  cheap,  lower  cabinets  for  a  moment,  overwhelmed  at  his  
close  proximity.  Never…not  even  in  her  wildest  dreams…not  even  those  involving  
Kurosaki-­â€kun… ;But  her  conscience  rudely  stepped  in:  ruining  the  guiltless  
experience.  Her  trembling  hands  found  his  muscular  shoulders,  pushing  with  all  her  
might  as  she  valiantly  tried  to  push  him  away.  
 
“Nâ€&rdqu o;no…† It  was  all  she  could  manage,  apprehension  stealing  away  the  words  she  
meant  to  say.  A  riotous  thrill  shot  through  her  at  the  feel  of  him:  her  panties  torn  
away  completely,  a  skilled  finger  stretching  her.  Then  two…then  threeâ€&b rvbar;  That  sweet  
rosette  of  pleasure  at  the  mercy  of  that  dangerous  tongue…those  haunting  lips.    
 
She  felt  something:  a  beautiful,  terrible  ache  that  strengthened  inside  of  her,  pulsing  
like  a  heartbeat.  It  began  to  wind,  twisting  tighter  and  tighter  as  she  mindlessly  
grasped  the  raven  locks  of  the  man  before  her.  She  very  nearly  pulled  out  the  white  
kenseikan—an  ornament  of  his  high  birth,  before  everything  came  splintering  apart.  
Her  body  shook  as  she  tried  to  take  in  air  that  wasn’t  cold  enough,  sweet  
enough…and  it  seemed  to  Orihime,  that  perhaps,  just  for  a  second,  that  the  world  
flipped  inside  out  
 
Her  mind  yielded  that  everything  was  different,  yet  somehow  had  stayed  the  same.  
Before  she  had  a  chance  to  mull  over  this  perplexing  notion,  Orihime  abruptly  found  
herself  lifted  up.  Her  heartbeat  felt  faint  and  shallow  as  he  cradled  her  against  a  
strong  chest,  slick  with  perspiration.  She  felt  numb  and  overwhelmed  as  he  swiftly  
moved  them.  At  least  until  she  found  herself  hastily  lowered  to  the  previously  
abandoned  futon.  
 
 
Her  blood  began  to  thunder  in  her  ears,  blushing  hotly  in  reaction  to  her  bared  
breasts  roughly  crushed  against  his  delicious  skin.  He  slid  against  her,  groaning  at  
the  feel  of  her  beneath  him.  Finely  toned  hands  slid  against  her,  insistently  traveling  
over  and  then  under  the  remaining,  offensive  fabric  of  her  clothes.  First  her  back,  

---

then  her  hips,  and  then  lower  once  again…Never  relinquishing  his  hold  long  enough  
for  her  to  slip  beyond  the  feel  and  reach  of  his  hardened  member.  
 
 
Panic  was  beginning  to  set  in,  an  electric  current  that  wormed  its  way  from  her  
stuttering  heart  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  It  was  a  wild  rush  of  adrenaline  and  
arousal  in  reaction  to  what  was  now  on  its  way.  Like  water-­â€stains  ; blurring  away  the  
edges  of  a  photograph—the  picture  of  her  reality  felt  distorted.  Oh,  Kami!  She  wasn’t  
ready  for  this.  She  wasn’t  ready  for  him.  Heck,  she  probably  wouldn’t  have  even  
been  ready  for  Kurosaki-­â€kun,  ; back  when  she’d  had  such  intense  feelings  for  him…  
 
T he  fire  within  her  blood,  the  one  Kuchiki  Taicho  had  lit  within  her  body,  made  
those  idle  fantasies  seem  vague  and  childish  in  comparison.  Yet  it  was  not  enough  to  
wholly  smear  her  mind  of  all  reason.  Being  ready  physically  didn’t  leave  her  feeling  
ready  emotionally.  She  had  to  think  fast.  
 
So  she’d  had  her  first  orgasm  at  the  hands…and  to ngue…of  Kuchiki-­â€s an’s  brother.  
Big  deal.  She  could  file  that  away  for  now  and  reel  under  the  implications  of  that  
later.  But  right  now,  Kuchiki  Taicho  wasn’t  in  his  right  state  of  mind.  He  had  been  
poisoned  with  some  sort  of…  aphrodisiac,  by  the  look  …and  feel&a circ;€¦of  things.  If  he  
were  in  his  right  mind,  he’d  want  her  to  stop  him.  She  knew  she  had  a  responsibility  
to  try.  
 
 
Obviously  physical  force  wasn’t  working  for  her.  Perhaps  she  could…dissuade  him  
through  other  means?  Distract  himâ€& brvbar;Divert  his  attention,  somehowâ€& brvbar;She  swallowed,  
an  idea  flowering  in  her  mind.  But  its  petals  made  her  blush  harder  than  ever.    Still,  
the  root  of  the  thing  seemed  like  the  most  logical  choice:  pretend  to  go  along  with  it  
until  an  opportunity  presented  itself.  
 
Doing  her  best  to  squash  contentious  insecurities,  she  struggled  to  shrug  out  of  her  
tank  top  entirely.  His  breath  was  hot  against  her  throat,  nibbling  at  her  ear  as  he  
took  the  opportunity  to  pin  her  tangled  hands  to  the  futon  entirely.  Orihime  let  slip  a  
moan,  trying  to  keep  focus  on  her  goal  as  she  struggled  in  his  firm  grip.  
 
To  her  chagrin,  only  when  he  lethargically  released  her  wrists  did  she  succeed.  He  
was  using  a  leashed  strength  that  made  her  want  to  shiver.  But  she  pressed  on.  
Praying  to  any  Kami  above  that  might  be  listening,  she  kissed  his  lips.  Or  she  tried  
to.    
 
Truth  be  told,  Orihime  wasn’t  the  most  experienced  kisser.  She  wound  up  pecking  
one  on  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  When  she  tried  again,  humiliated  at  the  failure  of  
her  first  attempt,  he  met  her  questing  mouth  with  his  own.  Liquid  heat,  velvet  and  
inviting,  coaxed  her  to  open  her  lips  further.  His  tongue  tangled  with  her  own,  taking  
control,  demanding  she  submit.  
 

---

She  felt  wet  and  dizzy  from  its  affects,  his  voracity  leaving  her  in  a  kaleidoscope  of  
raw  sensation.  Hurriedly,  she  kissed  a  quick  trail  down  his  chin  and  on  to  the  skin  of  
his  neck.  She  needed  to  stay  focused!  She  twisted  her  hips,  trying  to  reverse  their  
positions.  Or  at  the  very  least,  physically  communicate  her  intentions  so  that  he  
would  let  her.    She  continued  to  kiss  lower,  down  the  flesh  of  his  torso,  figuratively  
crossing  her  fingers.  
 
His  breathing  was  harsh,  and  with  a  groan  he  eased  onto  his  side,  passionate  hands  
locked  on  her  hips.  Drat…not  quite  what  she  had  wanted.  Her  nerves  felt  like  they  
were  twisting  tighter,  like  the  string  of  a  bow.  A  small  part  of  her  had  hoped  that  he  
would  lie  fully  on  his  back,  allowing  her  a  greater  chance  of  escape…and  spare  her  
from  carrying  out  the  full  length  of  her  plan.  No  such  luck.  He  had  complied  with  her  
only  so  far  as  a  compromise.  But  she  was  willing  to  work  with  it;  take  what  she  was  
given  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  this.  
 
She  teased  his  nipples,  remembering  his  reaction  to  her  rubbing  against  the  ridged  
flesh  earlier.  He  gave  an  inelegant  grunt,  masculine  fingers  gently  slipped  up  and  
tangled  within  her  hair.  Encouraged,  hesitation  waning,  she  moved  lower  still.  She  
kissed  down  the  sweet  salt  of  his  abs,  his  navel…until  she  reached  the  straining  
bulge  contained  by  his  hakama.  
 
It  didn’t  escape  her  notice  that  she  was  now  able  to  move  more  liberally  than  before.  
As  if  her  compliance  to  the  situation  had  him  granting  her  more  freedom.  She  hoped  
that  wasn’t  the  case.  That  it  was  only  because  he  was  so  distracted  by  her  
ministrations.  She  hated  the  thought  of  being  rewarded  for  her  behavior:  as  if  the  
aphrodisiac  might  be  coercing  his  need  to  the  point  of  rape.  Kuchiki  Taicho  is  better  
than  that…I—I  j ust  need  to…  
 
She  felt  her  eyes  widen,  fingers  fumbling  with  the  ties  of  his  hakama.  Her  mouth  
went  dry  at  the  sight  of  him.  Why  wasn’t  he  wearing  a  fundoshi?  Despite  it  seeming  
out  of  character,  Orihime  forced  herself  to  drop  the  train  of  thought.  Maybe  he  went  
commando  all  the  time.  It  didn’t  matter,  anyway.  If  anything,  it  only  made  things  
easier  for  her.  
 
She  swallowed,  vaguely  wondering  at  the  sensation  of  a  bunch  of  cotton  balls  stuffed  
in  her  mouth.  She  desperately  wished  she  could  choke  up  a  bit  of  spit.  She  was  going  
to  need  it.  More  than  a  little  nervous,  she  reached  out  a  shaking  hand.  
 
The  pads  of  her  fingers  were  a  mere  butterfly  touch;  a  whisper  of  a  brush  against  the  
length  of  him.  She  was  careful  to  avoid  the  head.  She  used  her  other  hand  to  firmly  
caress  his  thigh,  doing  what  she  imagined  was  a  titillating  massage.  If  anything,  his  
breath  grew  harsher,  before  he  twisted  onto  his  back  entirely.  
 
Her  heart  leapt  up  in  elation  at  the  movement,  but  felt  it  drop  back  into  her  stomach.  
His  hand  had  locked  around  her  wrist,  affectively  keeping  her  prisoner  against  him.  

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Pretending  she  had  not  lost  rhythm,  Orihime  continued,  hyper  aware  of  his  fingers  
sifting  through  her  hair.  
 
She  shuddered,  not  knowing  why.  This  whole  situation  felt  surreal.  Gently,  ever  so  
slowly,  her  lips  ghosted  against  his  ridged  flesh.  He  emitted  another  sound,  erotic  in  
nature.  Encouraged,  both  hands  came  into  play,  her  touch  gaining  confidence,  whet  
with  determination.  
 
She  kissed  along  this  side  of  him,  then  along  the  other.  Sucking  wet,  open-­â€mouthed  ; 
kisses  against  his  sweet  thighs.  Pre-­â€cum  leaked  from  his  slit,  his  breath  more  erratic  
than  she  had  ever  heard  in  combat.  A  response  she  elicited…  
 
Heat  prickled  over  her  skin,  but  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  air  of  her  hot  
apartment.  She  coiled  against  him,  nearly  lost  in  mesmerizing  activities  that  made  
him  groan  and  shake.  Suddenly,  she  swallowed  as  much  of  him  as  she  could.  He  let  
out  a  shout  as  the  tight,  velvet,  heat  encasing  him.  His  head  smashed  against  her  
palate,  taking  him  deeper  toward  her  throat,  nearly  making  her  gag.  She’d  never  
done  this  before.  Had  never  really  thought  of  how  to  execute  such  a  practice.  But  she  
bravely  pressed  on.  
 
She  bobbed  her  head  against  him,  finding  a  tempo,  her  breasts  brushing  against  his  
ridged  flesh.  A  warmth  spread  through  her  limbs,  a  feeling  of  pleasure  at  having  this  
kind  of  power  over  the  normally  stoic  Taicho.  She  felt  a  confidence  and  reassurance  
rarely  felt  in  her  actions  as  she  suckled  him  strongly,  somehow  enjoying  the  rich  
tang  of  his  salty,  unique  flavor.    
 
He  went  ridged.  
 
She  stuttered  to  a  halt,  worried  she  had  hurt  him.  She  let  go  with  an  audible,  wet  
‘pop,â€&tr ade;  rushing  her  head  upwards  to  confirm  or  deny  her  fear.  
 
His  azure  eyes  were  focused  on  her  countenance,  rich  with  need.  They  were  liquid  
with  lust,  and  his  burning  stare  seemed  an  intense,  tangible  thing.  A  promise  and  a  
threat.  In  spite  of  the  heat,  it  made  her  flesh  prickle.  With  yearning.  With  WANT.  
 
Her  nerves  returned,  then.  Obviously,  his  lascivious  gaze  urged  her  onward.  Oh!  So  
he  wasn’t   in  pain…  He  was  close  to….She Â&nbs p;swallowed,  quelling  the  rest  of  that  thought.  
Now  that  she  had  been  interrupted,  and  fully  aware  of  her  surroundings,  she  didn’t  
quite  have  the  courage  to  pick  up  where  she  had  left  off…She  shifted,  and  found  his  
burning  gaze  stray  toward  her  impressive  bosom…  
 
Hesitantly,  she  cupped  them  delicately;  smoothing  her  hands  gently  over  herself.  It  
felt  a  little  strange…touching &Acir c; herself  this  way…With  an  audience…but  she  had  his  
rapt  attention.  As  well  as  another  idea…  
 

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Without  warning,  she  pressed  her  breasts  tightly  together,  and  used  his  shaft  to  
penetrate  the  tight  valley  in  between.  Lubed  as  he  was,  from  her  earlier  efforts,  
there  was  little  resistance.  She  mimicked  sex,  thrusting  herself  up  and  down  his  
length.  Once,  twice,  three  times…he  d idn’t  make  it  to  four.  He  erupted,  a  strained  
sound  choking  past  his  throat;  startling  her  all  over  again  as  his  body  froze  against  
her  own.  
 
She  felt  the  essence  of  him:  wet  and  sticky  against  her  skin.  His  erratic  breath  began  
to  slow,  while  her  own  came  out  in  shallow  gasps,  as  if  she  had  just  run  a  marathon.  
Her  heartbeat  continued  to  thunder  in  her  ears.  She  licked  her  suddenly  dry  lips,  the  
proof  of  their  encounter  on  her  chest.  
 
 
N umbly,  she  was  aware  of  her  own  arousal:  an  enticing,  spiraling  ache.  
 
I  did  the  right  thing,  Orihime  rationalized  dazedly,  I—I  only  did  what  was  necessary!  
Another  part  of  her  guiltily  pointed  out  that  she  had  gone  too  far.  She  had  allowed  
herself  to  be  distracted  by  the  kaleidoscope  of  raw  sensation.  Blinded  like  an  idiot  
by  the  titillation  of  her  first  experience  with  a  man.  She  should  have  been  stronger  
than  this.    
 
She  should  be  able  to  handle  herself  after  what  happened  in  Hueco  Mundo.  How  
many  times  had  she  learned  that  she  couldn’t  rely  on  others  to  always  come  to  her  
rescue—she  was  better  than  that.  Those  around  her  deserved  better  than  that.  It  
wasn’t  enough  to  be  protected.  Not  when  she  had  the  ability  to  protect.    
 
She  had  meant  to  protect  Kuchiki  Taicho  from  himself  by  taking  control….using  an  
unconventional  means.  To  play  along  for  a  time  and  allow  either  escape  or  perhaps  
work  the  drug  from  his  system.  But  what  had  begun  as  a  strategy  to  avoid  their  
coupling  had  evolved  into  her  taking  advantage  of  him;  of  their  whole  screwed  up  
situation.  It  was  not  something  that  could  have  been  easily  predicted,  yet  it  had  
happened.  
 
 
His  eyes  snapped  open.  
 
A  lump  rose  in  her  throat.  Those  deep  blue  eyes  were  alert.  And  they  were  
narrowed,  focusing  on  her.  He  looks  ticked  off…Immediately, & Acirc; she  began  scooting  
back  on  the  carpet,  hugging  her  arm  over  the  front  of  her  chest.  It  was  a  futile  
gesture,  and  nothing  was  much  left  to  the  imagination  after  what  they—what  she,  
had  done.  
 
 
Whatâ€& brvbar;what  do  I  do…?  
 
 

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Reiatsu  –spiritual  pressure  
 
Shun-­â€po  ; â€“flash  step  
 
Taicho  –Captain  
 
Rokubantai  –Squad  Six  
 
Alma  Gemela  –‘Ki ndred  Spirit’/  Soul  Mate  
 
Shihakusho  –  Shinigami  clothes  
 
Hueco  Mundo—Hollow  World,  where  Hollows  (in  various  forms)  reside.  Although  
technically,  proper  Spanish  requires  for  the  adjective  to  follow  the  noun.  Such  as  ‘La  
Casa  Blanca’  (The  House    
     White)â&euro ;¦.so  really  it  should  read  ‘Mundo  Hueco,â€&tra de;  or  ‘World  
Hollow’….but &Acir c; I’m  just  being  picky.  
 
Kenseikan—white  hair  ornament  worn  by  Byakuya;  an  accessory  meant  only  for  
nobility  
 
Toca  el  caliente  de  la  noche…despierta,  sangre  caliente  –Touch  the  heat  of  the  
night…awaken  (commanding  wakefulness),  hot  blood.  
 
 
& Acirc; 
A/N:  Please  review!!  However,  rude  flamers  without  helpful,  constructive  criticism  
will  be  used  to  bake  cookies  ^_^  

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