Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Looking In ❯ Chapter 1

Ishida and Orihime's first time, naturally enough, was tentative, timid, and came about because of sewing.

He was sitting in her apartment, cleaning up after dinner, when he looked out her window. His pinched together in concern as he calculated the view and the impending darkness.

"You don't have curtains," he said, setting a chipped plate on the counter as he approached the window.

Orihime, who was rooting around the fridge for dessert, poked her head out from behind the door. "Eh? Oh, no, I don't. I keep forgetting about that!" She ducked back into the depths of the fridge.

"But Orihime," Ishida intoned gravely, resting damp hands on his hips, "when it gets dark and you have the lights on in here, people can see in."

"Mmmm?" she popped up again, a cheese stick in her mouth.

He turned to her, forehead deeply furrowed. "People could see inside. People could see you naked!"

She considered that information for a moment. "Oh. I don't think anyone would, though. I could make some curtains if it makes you feel better!"

It wasn't a good enough solution for him. She didn't seem as concerned about it as she ought to be, and she already admitted that she forgot about it. Who knew how many hoodlums and perverts could spy on her in the meantime while she innocently thought nothing of her exposed apartment. Ishida adjusted his glasses solemnly. "Inoue-san, I will make you curtains. Tomorrow."

She stared at him for a moment with an odd look on her face, cheese dangling from a corner of her mouth, and he couldn't tell if he said something wrong or if she was just drifting off. He didn't call her "Inoue-san" anymore unless it was important, and he wondered if maybe he offended her until she beamed at him. "Thank you!" she said, plopping down on her futon.

Ishida turned back to the window and mentally approximated how much fabric he would need, what sort of patterns, what extra tools he might need that Orihime might not have. It didn't occur to him once that his concern for Orihime's privacy would lead to what it did.

---

When he came over the next day with his measuring tape and swatches of fabric, he had no intentions of doing anything less than gentlemanly. He hadn't intended to keep getting distracted by Orihime, either. She was reading an action manga and making little noises like a bird, her fingers running over the pages. It was very difficult not to turn and look at her.

He held some colors against her wall, trying to concentrate on if it would be best to use a color that stood out or one that blended in with the rest of her color scheme (or maybe just Quincy blue). The frrriiip frrrriiip noise of Orihime's nails over paper was much more enthralling.

Probably he should have known something like this would happen when he came over, and he felt distantly guilty that he couldn't accomplish as basic a task as measuring her window and picking out a pattern to put in her room. Ever since their first kiss, he kept getting distracted by her or thoughts about her. He was beginning to understand other boys his age being driven by their hormones, and that worried him. His resolve had always been exemplary, and while he certainly couldn't prevent the occasional unwanted erection, he had never slavered disgracefully over girls or postured like an idiot to get their attention. He was calm. He sewed. He was the top student in his class. But sometimes all it took was a look from Orihime or a sway of her hips and his thoughts would dissolve.

He turned to look at her, her small hands and delicate, thin fingers, just for a moment. Sometimes the intensity of what he felt for her frightened him. It could rise up and choke him, terrifying, overwhelming, crippling. It was ridiculous that just watching her fingers move could incapacitate him when he was in the middle of doing something important. Something important for Orihime. He needed to focus.

It was useless. The colors of the fabric were all wrong and if he couldn't completely concentrate, he wouldn't do a good job, and that was completely insupportable. And if he had to abandon the project momentarily, there wasn't really a good reason why he couldn't pay closer attention to Orihime. Ishida stood and moved to her side, brushing hair away from her forehead.

"Hmmm?" She looked up from her book.

"I'm sorry," he said, not really meaning it, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No, it's fine." Orihime set the volume aside, relaxing back on her elbows, hands on her stomach. He moved with her, resting on his side. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her shirt, and Ishida could see a sliver of the pale flesh of her belly. She smiled at him, the smile that squished her eyes closed and took up her entire face in the power of its luminance.

His fingers tapped lightly on her temple and he couldn't quite remember what he was doing at her apartment in the first place (blinds? something....), but it didn't much matter when he kissed the side of her mouth and she slid back, looping her arms around him. From there, it was simple to shift over her as they kissed, for his fingers to slide under the hem of her shirt to touch the soft, sensitive skin underneath. He stroked a thumb over her stomach and used his other hand to pull the collar of her shirt away from her neck, exposing more skin to slide his lips across.

She deftly plucked his glasses from his face, tossing them onto the bed beside them. He made a mental note to try not to roll over on them this time. They were difficult to repair.

He kissed her bare neck and shoulder, burying himself in her scent, using one hand to pull her shirt down and the other to run lazily over her breast, thumbing her nipple. She arched her hips into his, gasped, clutched his arms tight-tight-tight. He worked little kisses to the base of her jaw and undid another button on her shirt. In the middle of muttered affirmatives scattered around his name, Orihime suddenly yelled "CONDOMS!" into his ear.

"AH!" he yelped, pulling away. He blinked a few times, waiting for what she said to make sense.

"Condoms?"

She was flushed, bright-eyed, and looked immensely pleased with herself. "Tatsuki!" she said, which did little to clear things up.

"Condoms?" he repeated, blinking.

"Tatsuki gave them to me when I told her I was in love with you!" She clapped her hands, almost hitting Ishida in the nose. "We can have sex!"

Ishida thought he heard a "pzzzt" noise as his brain stopped working. It was too much to process at once - or possibly ever, the way his mind kept tripping over the same phrases - but he eventually gathered enough of his remaining wits to speak. "Arisawa-san gave you condoms?" WE CAN HAVE SEX?

"Mmm-hmm! She said she likes you, but she'd have to kill you if you got me pregnant, and I thought it was silly at the time, but, oh! This is so good!" Orihime rolled out from under him, her shirt still hanging off one shoulder. "I'll get them!"

Ishida remained where he was, propped up on one elbow, watching her. She told Arisawa-san she was in love with him. He couldn't move; he felt weighed down by a lump of hot, hard emotion under his heart, and it didn't even occur to him that it was odd that Orihime fetched a strip of condoms from a pile of stuffed animals in the corner. Orihime hop-skipped back to the bed, sat on the mattress hard, and flicked a square foil package at his nose.

He flinched as it bounced of his face, and she giggled, pulling her shirt off and sliding out of her jeans without a trace of self-consciousness. When he didn't make a move for the condom, she picked the package up and tried to open it, apparently having some difficulty finding a place to tear.

His mind was reeling. Was this happening? Were they actually going to have sex? He felt like he should be gentlemanly and make sure she was all right, but he couldn't think of a good way to find out. "Do you really want to do this?" seemed like a stupid question when she was the one taking initiative, and "Is this going too fast?" was useless for similar reasons. They had discussed it, after all, he just hadn't gotten his hopes up that it would happen anytime soon out of fear of pressuring her. As he laid there uselessly on the bed, part of him tried desperately to figure out something to say, and the rest of him yelled at that part for wanting to introduce doubt into a situation that was just fine the way it was.

The decision was made for him when she finally ripped the top off the condom package and turned to him. "I want to undress you." She was kneeling beside him, tugging his shirt over his head before he could react. Instinct urged him to protect his crotch if anyone lunged for it, and he barely kept himself from knocking her hands away when she unzipped his pants and pulled them off in a quick movement. He felt so suddenly, completely exposed that he almost wanted to find something to cover himself with, but then her hands were at his briefs, cupping around his erection firmly.

He gasped, sitting upright and clutching her shoulders. "O-Orihime!" She smiled at him reassuringly and stroked him firmly a few times as he rocked with her movement. Then her fingers hooked in his underpants, attempting to pull them off him both gently and efficiently without him noticing, which didn't really work. He lifted his hips and they slid off with relative ease, leaving him completely exposed. They both stared down at his erection for a moment before Orihime remembered what they were doing.

She poked at the condom curiously before turning her attention back to his erection. The first couple of times she attempted to put it on him, it popped out of her grasp and landed on the bed. "Oh! Sorry," Orihime cried. "Can you hold yourself steady while I slide it on?"

Ishida blushed but held himself at the base of his erection, watching the look of concentration on her face as she bent close, scrutinizing his penis and using both hands to gently roll the condom on him. When it was firmly in place -- which Orihime made certain of by sliding her fingers over it from tip to base, making Ishida's eyes fall back into his head -- she sat back and studied her handiwork with an air of decided accomplishment.

He realized, looking at her, that while he was naked and ready to go, she was still in her underwear. That simply wouldn't work, and he could actually do something to help the situation along. He was practiced enough in removing her bra by now that he didn't need his higher mental faculties to do it, and, to his enormous relief, it came off easily. He couldn't look at or handle her naked breasts too much, or he would certainly lose control of himself. He couldn't stop from dragging a hand down her body, over her shoulder, down her back, cupping the generous swell of her hip.

As he looked down at her little blue panties with a flame-spewing robot across the crotch, he was filled with an overwhelming, almost painfully intense surge of affection. It might have been his hormones or the lack of blood flow to his brain, but it occurred to him that taking off her underpants with his teeth would be daring, sensual, and very likely a good idea. Resting his hands on her hips, he nipped across her belly, took the waistband in his mouth, and pulled.

"Uryuu," Orihime giggled, resting her hands on his shoulders, and a rush of ridiculously masculine pride swept through him.

The only problem was that the panties were snug around her hips, and stayed in place there, no matter how far or at what angle he pulled. He was mostly just stretching them out and he began to feel stupid wiggling his head back and forth like a dog with a bone, until he lost his grip and the underwear returned to their place with a snap! THEN, he felt like the world's biggest idiot. Orihime squeaked when the elastic hit her skin, and, Ishida, embarrassed and guilty, latched back on to her panties, determined to finish the task, this time sliding his thumbs under the waistband and letting them do most of the work. When the underwear was around her knees, he guided her down to lay flat on her back and slid them off the rest of the way, throwing them in the corner.

He looked at her, naked and perfect under him, her white skin glowing in the sunlight, her cheeks flushed, lips red, and his heart was so full he couldn't speak. He wanted to burn the image of her like that into his memory forever, to be able to find words sufficient to tell her how beautiful she was, but all he could do was stare. Solemnly, he positioned himself over her, their bodies aligned and fitting together. He gently removed her hairpins and placed them on the bedside table, running his fingers through her hair. "Are you ready?" he asked gently, barely above a whisper. He didn't know what he would do if she said no - explode, probably. He was so anxious he felt like all the cells in his body would fly apart with a wrong move. With a kiss and a whispered yes, she put his anxieties to rest.

His hands trembled as he rested them on her hips, holding her as he guided himself in. Thinking was beyond him. All of his focus was on how it felt to be inside her, so warm and tight, pulling him closer. He had never felt anything so incredible in his life, so insanely good that it wiped all other thoughts out of his mind. The only part of the universe that mattered was the place where their bodies connected.

When he was all the way inside, he simply lay there, tiny spasms fluttering through his body. At some point, his arms had given out, and almost all of his body weight was resting on Orihime. A sharp sting behind his eyes alerted him that he was about to cry, and he grit his teeth against it, channeling they overflow of emotion into a harsh kiss.

When he pulled away, Orihime made a few aborted attempts to speak. "Mmmm, Uryuu?" Her fingers drummed lightly on his shoulder.

"Orihime," he panted, dragging his bottom lip across her bare flesh.

"You're a little heavy."

"Oh!" He pushed himself up, bracing his palms on the mattress. An apology was on his lips, but his ability to speak crumbled at the sight of her, her hair tangled and spread out over the pillow, its vibrancy a stark contrast to the white of the sheets.

It only came to him then that she might be in some sort of pain, and he searched her face closely for signs of discomfort. Her eyes were locked on him, wide and beautiful and so kind, and once again he lost his train of thought.

Ishida rested his forehead on hers, taking time to breathe deeply and settle his nerves. If he moved, he knew he would come, and he would never forgive himself if he ruined Orihime's first time like that. His pride and her happiness were depending on his ability to keep himself together, but it was a difficult task when he was painfully aware of the soft push of her breasts against his naked chest, the hot pulsing of her body surrounding him. He let out a garbled, high-pitched noise when she shifted, pulling her knees tighter against his hips.

"I'm all right, Uryuu." She ran shaky fingers through his hair. "You can move."

She didn't know how difficult that was. His limbs were lead or the pathways from his brain to his hips were broken, because he couldn't quite concentrate enough to make that happen. He needed more control first; his body demanded that he obey her, but if he started before his will was stronger than that desire, he would go too fast, he would be sloppy, he would hurt her.

Rationality lost, though, when she whispered "Please move" and pushed his hips up with her own. His body's urges were much stronger than he thought, or his resolve much weaker, but concern was swept away in the overwhelming force of sensation.

His body wasn't fully his own; it moved convulsively without any instruction from his brain, and what little room in his mind was left for thought was filled with concern for Orihime's comfort. Her eyes were closed, the look on her face close to deep concentration -- not pained, but not, by any means, ecstatic. Concentrating on slowing his pace, he brought his mouth to her neck and kissed her as gently as he could. The taste of her skin exploded in his senses, colliding with the jumble of warring sensations already rocketing through his body. Her breathing was deep and erratic, though nothing was louder than his own panting, which echoed loudly in his own head. When she lifted her hands to hold his hips, the touch was electric and he groaned helplessly against her chest.

His orgasm, when it hit, what unlike anything he'd felt before. It robbed him of all his senses momentarily - his vision blanked, a white roar filled his ears - before they crashed back onto him, pleasure rolling through him like thunder. His hips jerked up and he cried out, body frozen, though his arms and legs trembled. He fell to his elbows, unwilling to let his whole weight fall on Orihime even through his haze. He forced his eyes open as his breathing and heart rate returned to normal and looked at her face, so close to his.

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes glazed, but she was looking at him, into him, had been the whole time, and he felt incredibly exposed. She blurred, and it took him a moment to realize that he was crying now, and he couldn't stop. He knew, distantly, logically, that he was happy - happier than the reaches of his young mind could fathom - but he hurt. Just looking at Orihime was painful, from the base of his spine to his throat, and he had to cry to relieve the ache. He was ashamed of himself, especially when her expression reflected some of his pain and she reached a hand to his cheek to wipe it dry.

To avoid seeing her concern for his weakness, he ducked his head, resting his face against hers. Without realizing he was doing it, he began kissing her; quick, frantic little kisses across her cheeks and forehead, pressing his devotion into her skin. He murmured her name with each kiss, "Orihime" on an eyelid, "Orihime" over her lips. She brought up her hands to hold his head still and brought her mouth to his, silencing him.

Ishida realized that she hadn't reached orgasm yet. Again, he wanted to say something, to apologize to her, but couldn't. He couldn't pull away, couldn't stop kissing her. He drew in an unsteady breath before blindly moving a hand down her body to where they were still joined.

His fingers could perform the movements without his direct attention by now; he had done it so many times before that he knew these actions, at least, would be fluid and deft. Orihime's whole body jerked when he touched her, and her hands clenched in his hair, tight-tight-tight, her fingernails digging into his scalp. He felt her gasp in his mouth, pulling the air from his lungs, and his confidence grew as his fingers moved deftly over her.

She tightened, her thighs pressing into his hips, her arms pulling him closer, her muscles contracting around him inside her. He devoured her incoherent mumbling as it spilled from her lips, consumed his own name whispered urgently and ran his tongue over her teeth. When she climaxed, her hips thrusting upward, arching her back, head rolling, his love for her rolled through him again and didn't diminish when she relaxed, falling down from her high, and her limbs went limp on the bed.

Ishida pulled out from her gently, but she still hissed in discomfort. He smoothed sticky strands of hair away from her forehead with one hand and removed the used condom with the other. He wanted to discard it, but he didn't want get up, especially since the lethargy of sex was sinking in. Fumbling over the side of the bed, he found a small wastebasket (at least, he hoped that was what it was) and dropped the condom inside.

He looped his sticky limbs over Orihime and she grabbed on to his arm, yanking him back into place. He experienced one moment of terror that she might regret what they'd just done when she started running her fingers lightly through his hair and singing a nonsense song. He picked up the words "bubbly little Quincy" and laughed as he wiggled his toes against her leg.

He didn't know if it was normal to be so devoted to a person, and he didn't know how to express his concern to anyone, least of all Orihime. He couldn't remember loving anyone so much, and the only person in his life who had come close was dead. If anything happened to Orihime, he would simply fall apart, dismantled from mind to flesh. He felt very selfish as he rested in her arms, wanting to stay the way he was forever, with Orihime thinking of him, smelling of him, singing to him. It pulled away pieces of his happiness to think that this moment would end, to remember that there was an end to all things.

His fingers worked into the bedsheets beside Orihime's head and he looked up at the open window. Softly, he closed his eyes again and was lulled to sleep in a bed that felt like eternity.