Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Too Much of a Good Thing ❯ One-Shot

Too Much of A Good Thing

by debbiechan

 

 

Disclaimer: Kubo Tite loves lesbians, but not more than I do! He invented Chizuru and all profits and acclaim for Bleach belong to him,

 

Description: (R) One-shot. Chizuru and Orihime spend the night together.

 

 

for Audra who is a full-time mom and a part-time perv like me. Thanks for the bike! I get the greatest stuff in the mail!

 

THANK YOU to Vayshti for the beta!

 

 

 

The plan was going perfect. Tatsuki was out of town. Chizuru had invited herself over to Orihime's apartment for a sleepover. She'd even brought presents--fuzzy bedroom slippers and expensive chocolates.

 

She hadn't expected Hime to get wasted on the candy right away.

 

Lovely Hime with chocolate smears on her lips! The divine, pink-cheeked girl--so innocent, so ripe for the picking--made a high, thin mmmmmm sound as her tongue swept over the last tastes.

 

“Wow!” Orihime beamed with satisfaction. “That was amazing!” She'd eaten the whole twenty-four -piece box of Belgian truffles almost as fast as the ducky slippers had gone on her feet.

 

Chizuru stared. “I'd get a headache if I ate that many.”

 

Orihime blinked her long lashes. “Really? I never heard of that before!”

 

It'd be hard to explain. Chizuru crossed her arms and wondered if any revelation about her food sensitivities was worth the trouble. She felt an urge to communicate with Orihime's strange mind, though.

 

“Chocolate headaches.” Orihime let out a little laugh. “That's funny.”

 

It wasn't anything to laugh about. “Yeah, I can't handle my chocolate. Heh.” Chizuru couldn't stop staring at the ravaged chocolate box. “Even a few, really, give me a headache.”

 

“Like an ice cream headache?”

 

“No.” Sharing intimate personal details about her life, surely, was a prelude to sharing other intimacies. Chizuru decided to keep sharing. “You know how an ice-cream headache is kind of fun?”

 

Orihime giggled. “Oh yes.”

 

“A chocolate headache isn't,” Chizuru said.

 

A chocolate headache was painful; the brain freeze one got from eating ice cream too fast was more of a pleasant, sizzling rush. Chizuru shared Orihime's passion for gobbling up cold desserts, only Orihime would make delighted ooo and eee noises from the skull cramps whereas Chizuru would enjoy her own chilly elation in silence.

 

Of course, no schoolgirl at Karakura High ever came close to expressing Orihime's oral enthusiasm for anything. The memory of Orihime licking a lunchtime fudge-sickle made Chizuru drool a little between her legs.

 

“Ohhh, these chocolates were so good.”

 

Orihime looked like she was still hungry. She crumpled the chocolate wrappers with her grabby fist. For a moment, before releasing them all into the trashcan, it looked as if she might start popping the papers themselves into her mouth like the truffles.

 

“Is there any food that makes you sick, Hime?”

 

“Nope.” A brilliant Hime smile. “I ate some bad shrimp once, but nothing makes me sick.”

 

Inoue Orihime was a marvel when it came to stomaching lunches of all flavor combinations. Maybe that was the sexiest thing about her--she ate any thing. Chizuru wanted to watch her do so.

 

Orihime swept the chocolate box into the trash after the She swept the chocolate box into the trash after the wrappers. “Those chocolates were SO awesome,” she exclaimed again. “They all had different tastes!”

 

Chizuru leant forward. `Tell me about them. Which one was your favorite?' She wanted to linger in Orihime's food-related bliss.

 

Orihime licked her lips and closed her eyes. But whereas she'd looked drunk on chocolate moments before, swaying as the chocolates melted on her tongue, now she looked perfectly fine. `They were all brilliant!' She turned a quizzical eye on Chizuru. `But I wish you could have eaten them yourself. Does eating a few chocolates really make you sick?” She persisted, amazed. “Like, wanting to throw up sick?” It was as if a few kittens could be too cute--she didn't appear to get the concept.

 

Too many chocolates made Chizuru headachy, but no, didn't really make her throw up sick. A hangover, now that was the pinnacle of queasy. Chizuru had hit the pink champagne fountain at her cousin's wedding last summer too many times to count and had vomited all the next day.

 

“It's in-between an ice-cream headache and a hangover,” Chizuru said. She hoped she would have to explain the meaning of a hangover to Orihime. Maybe Orihime would want to go out and buy some liquor and experience one.

 

What sort of booze should Orihime get wasted on? Chizuru considered that making fruity mixed drinks might be fun until it occurred to her that there was a line between seduction and date rape. Plying Orihime with alcohol would probably cross it.

 

But Orihime had already drifted over to a chest of drawers and another subject. “We need nighties!” she said as she opened one drawer after another. Orihime's clothes were folded neatly but organized haphazardly--there were summer shorts next to winter socks, and one drawer appeared to store only pillowcases and swim goggles. “Here!” She held up a pair of brightly colored waffle-knit leggings. “And here!” She found the matching top. The set appeared to be some sort of glorified thermal underwear.

 

That had to look skin-tight and scrumptious on Hime.

 

“I tie-dyed these myself,” Orihime said. “Which one do you want? Oh, I know. You'll look good in the greenish one because of your pretty red hair.”

 

Before Chizuru knew what was happening, something soft and greenish had been tossed into her arms and Orihime was saying something about how she liked to play music while popcorn popped and she was ….

 

She wasn't.

 

She was pulling her sweatshirt over her head and exposing an expanse of creamy soft tummy, and then—Chizuru felt her throat clench!—two enormous globes in a pink bra bounced into view.

 

The prompt covering-up of the globes with the waffle-knit top wasn't a disappointment because the fabric was indeed skintight. Then Orihime took off her jeans.

 

“Don't worry Chizuru.” Orihime was standing there in her panties. “My pajamas will fit you. They're stretchy.”

 

“Uh … what?”

 

“Put your pajamas on!”

 

That meant taking her clothes off first. There was a lurid delight to undressing in front of her even though Orihime didn't bat an eye. Chizuru dropped her skirt. Yes, I am a libertine! She wiggled out of her panties. Look, Orihime, I'm a real redhead!

 

“Oh, you need new panties,” Orihime observed without any astonishment. She leaned over and picked up Chizuru's drenched pink pair. “You sweat a lot. I don't sweat very much, even after hours of volleyball. Why do you think that is? Tatsuki's mom says I might have a water retention problem and need to eat more mangoes.”

 

Water retention might explain why Hime's boobs were gigantic some days and on other days not so gigantic.

 

“Mangoes have a lot of potassium,” Orihime went on. “Bananas too.” She found a lime-green pair of panties in the swim goggles drawer. “These are perfect for you!”

 

“That's okay,” Chizuru said softly in what she thought sounded like husky innuendo. “I don't need panties tonight.”

 

“Are you getting a cold?”

 

Chizuru cleared her throat. “No.”

 

“Aren't you going to put your pajamas on?”

 

“I'm warm,” Chizuru said. “I think I'll stay naked. Aren't you warm?”

 

Orihime was dragging her futon out of the closet. “I only have one! I guess we'll have to snuggle together?”

 

“Oh yes,” Chizuru said. “That's what you're supposed to do at slumber parties.”

 

Orihime sat on the futon and crossed her ankles. She was wearing the ducky slippers Chizuru had given her and their felt orange bills flapped as Orihime bounced her knees in an adorable girlish, excited way. “What else do you do at slumber parties?”

 

“Anything but slumber!” Chizuru plopped her naked self next to Orihime on the futon and hugged her. “We can tell one another ghost stories and kiss!”

 

“Kiss?”

 

“Kissing relieves tension and makes the fright from the ghost stories go away!” Chizuru puckered up and planted a quick, light kiss on Orihime's cheek. The night was going far better than anticipated. Here she was, naked already and kissing Orihime. Before long, she would have her tongue in her friend's ear and her fingers undoing Orihime's bra!

 

Orihime wriggled out of Chizuru's embrace. The rejection broke Chizuru's heart a little but not her spirit. “You start,” she said. “Tell a scary story and see if you can make me shiver. If I shiver, you will have to cuddle me!”

 

Orihime looked thoughtful for a moment.

 

Chizuru held her breath.

 

“Okay!” Orihime said. “That sounds like a fun game! I don't think I've ever seen you really scared!”

 

Chizuru settled back on the futon in a half-lying, half-sitting position, propped on her elbows. She crossed her nude legs and curled her toes. “Scare me, Orihime.”

 

Orihime took off her ducky slippers and re-sat herself politely, hands on her pajama-ed thighs, as if at tea. “Once upon a time,” she began, “there was a desert world where everybody was EVIL, talked in Spanish, and each person walked around with a hole in his chest. I don't know how these Spanish people ate but they could sit down and have tea even though there were these big holes in them. I mean, REALLY big holes. Holes as big as … kobacha squash.”

 

“You have such a wonderful imagination,” Chizuru cooed admiringly.

 

“They had holes in their chests where their hearts should be. They were heartless and evil and oh yeah, some had skeleton heads and some looked like normal humans but they weren't alive--they were all dead souls that had turned evil.”

 

“Ohhhh how scary.”

 

“It wasn't just that they looked scary--they did scary things like eat human souls.”

 

Orihime and eating. Chizuru thought this could be a sexy story.

 

“Once upon a time a girl who wasn't dead at all--in fact she was a perfectly live human--she ended up in this world by mistake. But the skeleton Spanish people with holes didn't eat her. In fact, they thought she was one of them and they gave her some nice clothes and some tea and kept telling her that it was going to be dinnertime soon.”

 

It wasn't a sexy story as Chizuru had hoped. In fact, it was pretty creepy.

 

When Orihime got to the part about this one Spanish guy removing his eyeball and making it work like a projector to show a movie, Chizuru got a feeling in her gut like that morning after her cousin's wedding. When Orihime described what the eyeball movie showed--bloody fights, monsters impaling victims through their stomachs with bare fist punches, the dead gobbling up the living—Chizuru's insides lurched and her mouth filled up with nausea.

 

“Are you getting scared now, Chizuru-chan? Do I hug you now?”

 

If Orihime hugged her now, Chizuru would barf. “I--I have to go to the bathroom.”

 

The temperature in Orihime's tiny bathroom felt like the Himalayas. Chizuru's nakedness goosepimpled from head to toe. Get a grip. What is this? Nerves? Chizuru leaned over the sink, turned on the faucet and the white noise made her nausea fade.

 

Only dorks get nervous about their first time.

 

“Chizuru?” Orihime peeked through a slot of open door. “What is it?”

 

Chizuru turned off the water. “You were talking about eyeballs, Hime. Gross stuff.”

 

“I'm sorry. I thought it was scary. I didn't mean to make you sick--I just wanted to make you fun-scared.”

 

“It's okay, it's okay.” Chizuru ran a hand through her hair and felt the air in the bathroom get warmer just because Orihime was here. “You were doing it right. Making up gross details right out of a horror movie. You have an amazing imagination, Orihime.”

 

“Awww, poor Chizuru-chan.” Orihime put an arm around Chizuru's shoulders and led her out of the bathroom. “Let's not tell scary stories anymore. I will give you a big hug.” Orihime hugged, but it was a lame sideways hug. Chizuru didn't want the pressure of arms against upper arms; she wanted a magnificent soft chest in waffle knit top against her nude body. Chizuru's nipples had gone hard as tacks in the cold bathroom.

 

“Let's get something to eat!” Orihime suggested.

 

Chizuru had barely recovered from the eyeball story. “Uh, no.”

 

Orihime looked disappointed.

 

“No, no, you can get something to eat if you want, Hime,” Chizuru quickly added. “I'll just lie down here on the futon.” Chizuru pulled the comforter over her. She was still cold. “I'll just watch you eat. You're always so adorable when you eat. What are you going to chase the truffles with?” Chizuru hoped the sight would be sexy and not disgusting.

 

It was sexy. Orihime had a carton of vanilla ice cream in the freezer.

 

“Ooo! Eee!” went Orihime when she got the brain freeze. The noises were positively orgasmic and went a long way to dissolving away images of soul-eating monsters.

 

Orihime talked and talked. She recounted the happenings of her favorite afternoon television drama and remembered what she had for lunch that day. She said that it was nice to have company over because teenagers weren't supposed to live alone. The more she talked, the more Chizuru got the feeling that Orihime wasn't the sort of girl who was going to put out unless Chizuru talked too. This intimacy thing was a two-way street, but who could keep up with Orihime? Who could even interrupt her? The girl was blabbering an anecdote a minute about what stuffed animals she had when she was four and what movie she'd seen on her last birthday with Tatsuki….

 

Nothing's going to happen tonight, Chizuru concluded miserably. But Tatsuki is going to kill me anyway when she finds out I spent the night here so I might as well get something out of this.

 

She slipped her hand between her legs.

 

“Are you sure you don't want some?” Orihime sat with the carton on her lap and was using a big wooden stirring spoon to shovel the ice cream from its container to her mouth. “I'm going to eat it all. Oh, this is good. Mmmmm.” Orihime sucked on her spoon and closed her eyes. “Mmmmm.”

 

“Mmm, that does look good.” Chizuru echoed Orihime's pleasure with narrowing eyes and a heaving chest. “It's okay,” Chizuru said softly. “I'm fine. I don't need ice cream.”

Her finger stirred between her legs.

 

Orihime was clueless. Orihime didn't even notice that there was a girl masturbating in her futon right there not three feet away as she ate ice cream.

 

Orihime all Chizuru's for one night. Orihime in skin-tight pajamas. Orihime moaning with a spoon in her mouth.

 

Not our first time, Hime-chan, but that can come later. Tonight it's just me and you and vanilla ice cream….

 

“Ooo! Eee!” went Orihime again when the sensation overload of cold and sweet was too much. “Ooops. I'll never learn not to eat too fast.” She shivered, giggled, and went on eating her ice cream. “It's fun to eat too fast, though, isn't it?”

 

The little dribble of white cream on Orihime's bottom lip made Chizuru heart clamor. It was too much of a good thing too soon even if it wasn't enough, even if it wasn't Orihime's softness under Chizuru's hands, Orihime's lips under Chizuru's lips….

 

Chizuru's spasms, when they came, were less conspicuous than Orihime's food noises. One after another, nothing spectacular, just little eruptions of pleasure like promises.

 

Orihime noticed Chizuru shivering. “See, you are cold. Maybe you want to put pajamas on?”

 

“No, no,” Chizuru insisted dreamily. “I'm fine, Hime. I'm fine.”

 

She intended to be shivering from the cold over and over next to Orihime's warm body all night long.

 

 

End