Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Heat Of The Night ❯ más complicaciónes ( Chapter 3 )

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

 
 
The  recent  euphoria  danced  through  Orihime’s  veins  as  she  struggled  to  simply  
breathe,  dizzy  from  her  shattering  orgasm.  Her  ears  were  literally  ringing.  Shallow  
puffs  of  air  quickened  past  her  lips,  the  humidity  of  the  bath  hampering  her  efforts.  
Her  mind  was  still  spinning;  thoughts  dully  latching  on  to  what  they  had  done…and  
what  it  could  mean.  Even  as  they  brushed  across  her  mind,  a  firmer  stroke  from  
Byakuya’s  ridged  length  reminded  her  that  the  act  itself  hadn’t  technically  
been…consummated  yet.  
 
She  uttered  a  groan.  
 
 
H er  eyes  flickered  up,  scrambling  through  her  haze  to  think  up  some  way  to  request  
he  cease,  but  the  would-­â€be-­ ;â€words  died  upon  her  tongue.  All  thoughts  skittered  
away,  like  a  flat  stone  over  a  pond,  at  the  sight  before  her.  Kuchiki  Taicho  was  
practically  drenched  from  the  mist  of  the  bath,   hair  dampened  into  tangled  curls  
that  had  long  since  escaped  his  kenseikan.    His  breath  was  deep  and  uneven,  as  
though  it  took  monumental  effort  to  remain  where  he  was.  The  movement  drew  her  
eyes  to  his  lathered  skin,  shadows  painted  across  its  surface,  highlighting  the  thick  
contours  of  muscle  typically  kept  hidden  by  clothes.  Her  mouth  ran  dry  at  the  sight.  
How  many  people  had  been  privy  to  such  a  glorious  view…?  
 
Fire  suddenly  brushed  along  her  nerves;  the  pad  of  his  thumb  brushing  along  her  
clit  a  shock.  His  cobalt  eyes  never  left  her,  almost  studious  in  his  forbearance  of  
appraisal.  An  embarrassing  sound,  halfway  between  a  languorous  mewl  and  a  husky  
gasp,  escaped  from  her  throat.  Orihime  bit  her  lip,  crushing  her  eyes  shut  in  
response  to  the  demanding  touches.  She  felt  raw  in  wake  of  her  previous  pleasure,  
but  the  feelings  he  ignited  within  her  flesh  bordered  finely  along  the  edge  of  pain  
and  gratuitous  satisfaction.  
 
The  sweet  touches  became  more  lingering,  growing  in  response  to  her  quaking  hips.  
Her  skin  was  flushed  beyond  the  reason  of  mere  heat  from  the  steaming  bath.  Yet  as  
chagrined  as  she  felt,  Orihime  helplessly  gyrated  against  the  delicious  feelings  
Byakuya  was  giving  her.  He  pounded  into  her,  cunt  his  teeth  gently  rasping  against  
her  tender  breast,  carefully  avoiding  the  sensitive  areola.  He  ravaged  her,  and  she  
whined  at  the  denial  of  his  lips  against  her  ridged  nipples.  They  were  nearly  painful  
in  their  quest  for  attention.  Beyond  frustrated,  hardly  realizing  just  exactly  what  it  
was  she  was  doing,  she  combed  her  shaking  fingers  through  his  ebony  hair  and  
pressed  his  mouth  against  her  left  peak.  
He  groaned  at  her  wanton  little  act  of  aggression,  the  sound  vibrating  against  her  
previously  neglected  breast.  She  hiccupped  out  another  arousing  moan,  little  more  
than  a  seething  mass  of  sensation  at  this  point.  She  delicately  scraped  her  nails,  
twining  her  fingers  through  soft  tangled  locks,  egging  him  on.  
 
She  cried  out  as  he  unexpectedly  unsheathed  himself,  twisting  out  of  her  grasp.  

---

 
“Bya—Byakuâ&e uro;”† She  couldn’t  finish  the  utterance.  His  mouth  arrested  her  own,  his  
tongue  sweeping  past  her  teeth  lay  claim  to  the  cavity.  In  a  haze,  she  suckled  his  
tongue,  only  for  him  to  cruelly  rip  away  once  again.  
 
 
H ands,  roughened  by  decades  of  battle,  smoothed  along  her  wrists.  The  unexpected  
touch  pulled  her  from  the  vaporous  fog  of  her  mind.  She  didn’t  struggle  as  she  was  
lifted,  perched  precariously  upon  his  lap.  He  slipped  into  her  easily,  though  her  
breath  became  trapped  in  her  lungs  anyway.  He  gripped  her  toned  thighs,  
encouraging  her  to  ride  him.  It  took  her  a  moment  to  find  the  rhythm;  her  body  a  
willing  slave  to  his  salacious  ministrations.  
 
Â&nbs p;
 
Orihime  groaned,  though  not  unhappily.  Okay,  that  may  not  be  entirely  true.  She  
shoved  her  spoon  deep  into  the  peanut  butter  jar,  once  again  scraping  it  out  so  that  
it  was  heavily  burdened.  Laden  with  the  mouth-­â€watering &Acir c; spread,  she  then  jammed  it  
into  her  mouth.  Her  filthy,  dirty  mouth…Byakuyaâ&eu ro;™s  voice,  rich  with  promise,  burned  
through  her  subconscious:   â€œyou&ac irc;€™re  far  from  being  filthy  enoughâ€&brv bar;† She  burned  scarlet  
at  the  erotic,  rebellious  thought,  wishing  to  swallow  it  down  along  with  the  peanut  
butter.  Although  not  one  of  her  more  gracious  habits,  Orihime  found  comfort  in  
eating  straight  from  the  jar.  
 
But  alas,  swallowing  down  the  rich,  sticky  substance  was  much  easier  in  practice  
than  the  thoughts  leaking  from  her  now  perverted  mind.  It  had  long  since  by-­â€passed  
the  gutter  and  now  seemed  content  on  swimming  in  the  sewer.  She  wanted  to  blame  
Byakuya  for  this.  Pretend  that  he  had  corrupted  her  in  some  way  or  other…but  she  
resigned  herself  to  the  fact  that  he  had  made  nothing  flower  that  had  not  already  
long  ago  been  seeded.    
 
She  was  a  healthy  teenage  girl,  after  all.  Dirty  thoughts  were  par  for  the  course…she  
was  just  usually  able  to  keep  them  well  buried.  And  as  much  as  she  cavorted  about,  
saying  whatever  innocently  occurred  to  her  only  to  slip  past  her  tongue,  she  had  
always  been  particularly  good  at  keeping  a  lid  on  the  more  intimate  turnings  of  her  
mind.  Until  now.  She  felt  like,  at  any  moment,  she  would  randomly  blurt  out  
preciously  what  was  going  on  inside  her  head  to  the  first  person  that  came  across  
her  path.  She  quit  liking  the  spoon.  Up  to  this  point,  it  had  been  a  useful  vehicle  to  
deliver  gratification  to  her  mouth.  Now,  it  was  strangely  reminding  her  of  what  she  
had  oh  so  recently  been  liking…  
 
Abruptly,  she  tossed  it  into  the  sink,  amending  that  she  would  wash  it  later.  She  dug  
into  a  side  drawer  at  the  counter,  hunting  down  a  favored  brand  of  chocolate.  Her  
desire  attained,  she  quickly  tore  the  wrapper  from  the  bar,  jamming  it  into  the  
peanut  butter  without  penance.  What  she  wouldn’t  give  for  an  American  Reece’s  
Peanut  Butter  cup…but  this  was  a  good  second.  

---

 
A  sharp  rap  on  the  door  nearly  made  her  choke.  Grabbing  the  glass  at  her  elbow,  she  
hurriedly  chugged  down  some  water  in  an  effort  to  clear  her  throat.  Timidly,  she  
relinquished  her  guilty  treat  and  strode  to  the  door.  She  had  only  just  managed  to  
peer  through  the  peephole  in  order  to  discern  who  was  on  the  other  side  when  the  
door  suddenly  thumped  open  against  her  nose.  Luckily,  the  motion  had  been  more  
gentle  and  insistent  than  anything.  So  she  was  more  surprised  than  anything  else.  
 
“ Hey!† It  still  hadn’t  felt  nice,  though.    
 
 
She  rubbed  the  bruised  cartilage,  gingerly  checking  on  the  extent  of  the  injury.  
 
â€&oeli g;Inoue-­â€san!  I’m  so  sorry!† Orihime  froze  as  she  recognized  the  velvet  cadence  of  that  
voice,  hardly  daring  to  breathe  as  her  friend  continued,â€&a circ;€¦  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  
standing  so  close!† 
 
â ;€œRukia-­â€chan,†Â&nbs p;Orihime  smiled  nervously,  fighting  against  the  urge  to  bite  the  inside  
of  her  cheek.  “  Uhâ ;€¦how  are  you?  What…uh …† Her  nerves  deserted  her.  She’d  meant  
to  ask  why  her  friend  had  chosen  to  drop  in  for  a  visit  so  late  at  night;  unexpectedly  
no  less.  Rukia’s  facial  expression  was  smoothed  over  with  concern,  her  large  azure  
eyes  taking  everything  in;  every  detail  of  every  corner  of  the  room.  Orihime  prayed  
her  own  person  wouldn’t  be  suspect  to  such  scrutiny.  
 
“Iâ€&trad e;m  sorry  to  barge  in  like  this,† she  picked  up  the  tenacious  thread  of  conversation  
and  wove  in  her  own  words,  glossing  over  Orihime’s  obvious  discomfort  with  
manners  instilled  by  the  Kuchiki  household.   â€œI  believe  the  custom  here  is  for  the  
host  or  hostess  to  open  the  door  by  way  of  greeting  after  a  guest’s  arrival  is  
announced.  But  I’m  afraid  my  haste  dissuaded  me  from  employing  this  tradition,  as  I  
am  a  bit  pressed  for  time.   I  believe  there  is  a  phrase  which  forgives  this  
transgression,  and  is  popular  here  in  the  world  of  the  living.  ‘Some  rules  are  made  to  
be  broken.’† Her  smile  was  simple,  but  belied  just  how  pleased  she  was.  Though  
whether  it  was  because  she  was  able  to  understand  a  common  human  saying  or  that  
she’d  had  the  opportunity  to  utilize  its  appropriate  meaning  remained  to  be  seen.  
 
“Ohâ€&brv bar;ah…that’s  ok.  It’s  fine!  At  least  you  didn’t  come  in  through  my  window,  Rukia-­â€
chan. † Orihime’s  giggle  sounded  paper-­â€thin  to  her  own  ears,  but  she  was  fairly  
certain  Rukia  wouldn’t  pick  up  on  it.  If  there  was  one  skill  she  didn’t  lack  it  was  to  
fake  being  cheerful.  Rukia’s  smile  melted  a  bit,  confusion  bleeding  through.  
 
â€&oel ig;You  say  that  as  if  it  would  be  unusual….I  use  Ichigo’s  rather  habitually.…He  has  
never  mentioned  it  being  abnormal.† She  muttered  quietly.  Orihime  immediately  felt  
stricken.  
 
“No!  I  mean,  it  can  be!  It’s  just&aci rc;€¦most  people  use  the  front  door.  Um…you  mentioned  
you  were  in  a  hurry…?† ; She  wished  the  floor  would  open  up  and  swallow  her  whole.  

---

If  ever  there  were  a  time  she  might  be  tempted  to  abuse  her  powers,  now  would  be  
it.  She  desired  nothing  more  than  to  escape  this  situation—and  the  odd  look  Rukia  
was  giving  her  because  of  it.  
 
“Rightâ€& brvbar;† 
 
 Orihi me  swallowed  reflexively,  taking  in  the  visage  of  her  unanticipated  guest.   The  
air  felt  thick  with  the  awkward  silence,  reminding  the  chagrined  teen  of  the  stifling  
heat  endured  in  the  night;  the  sweat  on  her  brow  now  no  more  than  a  garment  for  
the  wrong  occasion.  
 
“In  any  case…I  am  looking  for  my  brother.  I  traced  his  reiatsu  to  your  
accommodations;  it’s  faint,  but  he  was  here  some  time  ago.  I  suspect  he  was  
injured…Why  are  you  looking  at  me  like  that?† Orihime  began  flapping  her  arms,  
gesticulating  wildly  as  she  frantically  thought  up  an  excuse  for  her  current  facial  
expression.  
 
“Like  what?  I  always  look  like  this….heheheâ&euro ;¦um….though  it  might  be  because  I  was  
thinking  about  dinner.    Round  two  of  hummus  and  peanut  butter  on  toasted  bread  
and  lettuce…† She  continued  babbling  like  an  idiot.  It  didn’t  escape  her  notice  that  
Rukia’s  eyes  flickered  toward  her  current  snack,  no  doubt  coming  to  her  own  
conclusions  about  Orihime’s  erratic  behavior.  
 
“That  s ounds…interesting.  In  any  case,  he  is  not  here.† She  smiled  warmly,  though  
Orihime  feared  that  it  didn’t  reach  her  eyes.  As  though  her  thoughts  were  straying  
elsewhere,  clever  Kuchiki  mind  at  work,  putting  together  the  pieces.  Not  good,  not  
good,  DEFINITELY  NOT  GOOD!  “I  assume  you  tended  him,  and  I  thank  you  for  that.† 
She  either  didn’t  notice  or  chose  not  to  react  on  the  faint  strangled  noise  her  friend  
emitted  at  that  comment.  “I  will  take  my  leave…If  you  see  my  brother,  please  do  give  
him  my  regards.  I  wish  to  speak  to  him  as  soon  as  possible.† 
 
&ac irc;€œY-­â€yes,  you  can  count  on  me!  I’ll  tell  him…whenâ€&rd quo;I  mean  if,  I  see  him…†  Orihime  
stumbled  after  the  contemplative  shinnigami,  her  fingers  dancing  nervously  as  she  
shut  the  door  behind  her  retreating  company.  She  brushed  the  hair  from  her  face,  
biting  her  bottom  lip  in  resignation.  Well,  I’m  doomed.  It  had  merely  been  a  matter  of  
time,  really.  Of  course  someone  like  Rukia  would  have  figured  out  that  he  had  
stopped  by  eventually.  She  could  hope  and  pray  to  every  god  she  knew  that  the  
sister  of  her  recent  paramour  didn’t  fit  together  a  complete  picture  of  the  events  as  
they  had  unfolded  last  night.  
 
It  had  been  a  wet,  dizzying  rush  of  explosive,  unpredictable  events.  Following  the  
consummation  of  their  physical  coupling,  the  Taicho  of  Rokubantai  had  surprised  
her  with  a  glimpse  beyond  his  usual  apathy  and  only  recently  revealed  passion.  With  
a  tenderness  seldom  seen,  he  had  bathed  away  the  sweat  brought  on  by  their  fairly  
athletic  activities—down  to  intimately  washing  her  auburn  hair.  She  had  awoken,  
still  somewhat  exhausted,  within  the  crisp  sheets  of  her  futon  the  next  morning.  The  

---

cool  morning  air  belied  the  truth  of  having  been  such  a  hot  night  hours  before.  But  
there  had  been  no  denying  the  soreness  felt  within  her  recently  plundered  body,  
down  to  the  last  aching  sinew.    
 
She  spent  the  morning  mooning  about;  raiding  her  cupboards  for  the  perfect  snack  
that  didn’t  really  exist.  What  she  had  really  craved  were  answers.  As  there  hadn’t  
been  any,  she’d  settled  for  red  bean  paste  toast  and  instant  coffee  with  soy  milk,  
with  a  side  of  roasted  leeks;  remnants  in  part  from  a  previous  meal.  This  of  course  
been  followed  by  an  emotional  balm  known  as  peanut  butter,  and  then  chocolate,  
before  Rukia’s  impromptu  interruption.  She  picked  up  her  water,  sipping  it  as  she  
stared  at  the  coffee  dregs  in  her  mug  within  the  sink.  The  abandoned  spoon  idly  lay  
alongside,  judging  her.  
 
She  nearly  spit  out  her  mouthful  as  it  slowly  occurred  to  her  how  close  the  brown  of  
the  abandoned  lightened  beverage  mirrored  the  organic  eggs  at  the  nearby  grocery  
store.  Eggs…as  in  fertility.  As  in  she  was  reminded  of  the  distinct  possibility  of  being  
pregnant.  She  needed  a  morning-­â€after Â& nbsp;pill.  Pronto.  Heart  in  her  throat,  she  tossed  
her  remaining  dishes  into  the  sink,  a  rising  nausea  of  spiking  anxiety  threatening  the  
loss  of  brunch.  In  her  haste,  she  jammed  the  lid  of  the  peanut  butter  jar  over  its  
contents  without  bothering  to  store  it  away  in  the  cupboard.    
 
She  all  but  ran  out  the  door  in  her  rush  to  the  Kurosaki  clinic.  
 
She  had  stopped  by  to  investigate;  her  brother  had  been  a  pretence.  It  was  true  that  
she  had  words  for  her  brother,  but  that  had  not  been  the  intent  of  her  visit  with  
Orihime.  She  had  noticed  something  odd,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Byakuya  
never  left  the  Kuchiki  grounds  without  Senbonzakura  secure  at  his  side.  Something  
in  his  recently  flaring  reiatsu  hinted  at  an  irregularity,  as  though  it  had  been  layered  
and  smothered  over  with  something  else.    Decades  spent  in  her  brother’s  presence  
had  taught  her  the  importance  of  careful  observation.  
 
The  guilt  and  nervous  countenance  sported  by  her  friend  had  been  a  telling  sign  
something  was  amiss.  Perhaps  she  was  being  overly  apprehensive,  and  
overstepping  her  bounds  in  some  ways.  Inoue-­â€san  was,  after  all,  a  renowned  healer  
for  all  the  tasks  she  performed  with  her  shun  shun  rikka.  But  she  couldn’t  shake  the  
feeling  that  something  was  amiss,  somehow…The  concern  she  had  felt  now  
burrowed  acutely  beneath  the  surface,  taking  root  in  her  mind.  She  did  not  wish  to  
jump  to  conclusions,  but  Orihime’s  beh avior—as  well  as  her  brother’sâ€&rdq uo;did  merit  
further  supposition.  
 
A  frown  marring  her  pretty  features,  she  easily  climb  the  hill  that  led  to  Ichigo’s  
house.  She  nearly  ascended  to  his  window,  as  was  her  habit,  but  stopped  herself  as  
she  recalled  Orihime’s  words.  They  had  not  been  spoken  unkindly,  and  in  fact  had  
been  blurted  out  without  thought  due  to  distraction  and  nerves…but  a  grain  of  truth  
lay  in  them.  Nibbling  her  bottom  lip,  she  shrugged  and  let  herself  in  through  the  

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door.  Ichigo  balked  at  her  entrance,  the  toast  in  his  mouth  nearly  falling  from  his  lips  
in  surprise.  
 
“Youâ€&rd quo;you  used  the  door?† Rukia  raised  a  finely  arched  brow.    
 
“Techn ically,  I  walked  through  it.† She  supplied  coolly.  He  shook  his  head,  hastily  
removing  the  bread  from  his  mouth  as  he  chewed  on  a  piece.  
 
“Yeah,   well…that’s  a  first.† He  sighed,  clicking  off  the  small  television  at  the  counter  
as  he  returned  his  attention  to  the  shinnigami  in  his  presence.  
 
“Karin  and  Yuzu  already  left  the  house…so  I  assumed  you’d  just  come  in  the  usual  
way,† he  paused  to  take  a  swig  of  his  orange  juice,  “and  with  the  Old  Goat  at  a  
conference…† 
 
“How  I  choose  to  enter  or  leave  a  building  while  in  this  form  is  of  no  import,† Rukia  
cut  in  smoothly,  chagrined  Orihime’s Â&nb sp;comment—while  spoken  without  artifice,  had  
proven  to  be  true.  “Did  you  patrol  Karakura  last  night?† 
 
“Yeahâ€&b rvbar;just  the  usual  rounds.  One  or  two  hollows  .  Nothing  exciting,† he  scowled  in  
contemplation,  “though  I  think  Uryu  was  on  the  prowl,  too.  Got  to  a  hollow  before  
me.  Wasn’t  too  far  from  Inoue’sâ€&brvb ar;but  I  guess  it  doesn’t  matter .† Rukia  started  at  the  
information,  suspect  of  the  Quincy’s  actual  involvement.  More  likely,  it  had  
something  to  do  with  Byakuya…even  if  such  a  trivial  creature  was  usually  beneath  
his  notice.  She  filed  that  thought  away  for  later,  deciding  to  ply  a  bit  more  
information  from  her  friend  as  he  poured  her  a  bit  of  the  citrus  drink  he  himself  
indulged.  She  was  rather  fond  of  it,  and  admittedly  missed  it  while  back  in  the  Soul  
Society.    
 
“Did  you  come  across  him?  Why  do  you  suspect  it  was  him?† He  shrugged,  handing  
her  the  glass,  which  she  promptly  sipped.  
 
â€&oeli g;Well,  who  else  would  it  be?  Not  like  it’s  Inoue&a circ;€™s  style,  or  Chad’s.  They  don’t  go  out  
looking  for  trouble.  More  like  they  step  in  if  there’s  no  other  choice…Why?  You  think  
it  was  someone  else?† 
 
“Perhaps,â&eur o;  she  swirled  her  drink,  swishing  it  before  she  took  another  sip  and  
deigned  to  answer.  “but  I&ac irc;€™ve  no  wish  to  jump  to  conclusions.† Ichigo  snorted,   a  
rebuke  on  his  tongue,  before  a  sharp  rap  on  the  clinic  door  interrupted  his  would-­â€
be-­â&eur o;words.  Rukia  paused,  recognizing  the  prickle  of  reiatsu  that  shot  through  her  
nerves.  No  doubt  Ichigo  didn’t  notice.  He  was  disturbingly  too  inept,  or  simply  just  
uncaring,  to  develop  that  type  of  skill.    
 
He  padded  to  the  door,  surprise  evident  on  his  face  as  he  answered  it.  

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“Inoue-­â€san? & Acirc; What  brings  you  here?† 
 
A/N:  Yes,  I  suck.  It’s  short.  More  soon!  

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