Warning: Respect the rating... The story resembles a lemon, but it does have some truth to it; if you read the note at the bottom of the page, you'll see why. Please enjoy, everyone.

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White

"Do whatever you want with me, just please… don't hurt him!"

The echo of her own voice resounded, bouncing off the walls of her mind. Inoue gaped in utter horror at the Espada before her, then quickly averted her eyes and stared determinedly at the floor; she had said he could do whatever he pleased, but this was not what she had meant by that… Already she felt the moisture forming in her eyes.

Innocence…

She wouldn't look up. She would never look up, if she didn't have to. Maybe if she slowly closed her eyelids and reopened them again, she would awaken from the dream to find herself in the arms of Ichigo, Tatsuki, God -- anyone -- to find herself safe and loved. And not in this way.

For it to be a dream… If only fate would be so kind.

She began crawling to the balled up jacket near the wall, fat teardrops smacking onto the floor, trailing her path. Her trembling arm lifted it above her bowed head, holding it before him like a sacrificial offering to a god. "Here you are, I- I think you accidentally dropped your --" Her voice was thin and feeble, so quiet she could hardly hear herself even in the silent chamber; maybe if she spoke even quieter, she could wisp herself away into the night air…

"Accidentally dropped?" Grimmjow interjected, and threw his head back to cackle to the skies. "I ripped it off! Generally when fucking the living daylights out of little prostitutes like you, wearing a white Espada uniform gets in the way, don't you think?" He grinned at his own sardonic joke, and then suddenly returned his grave eyes to her once more, impatient. "What the hell are you waiting for, take your goddamn clothes off! Don't act like you haven't done this before…"

Still staring determinedly at the floor, she moved her hands tentatively toward the top of her uniform and began unbuttoning. If this meant saving that man, she would do this a million times over, she told herself; as long as she was the only person to suffer like this, she would be fine; this would only, after all, last a couple of minutes… She supposed it might be okay. "Please… just promise me," Orihime breathed. "Promise me you really won't hurt him --"

"Heh. Well, fuck that; I wasn't going to, but now you're taking too damn long," Grimmjow snarled. "You'll find, little girl, that we Hollows have ugly needs."

--

Black

And he dove at her.

Not bothering with the top section of her attire, the sixth Espada wedged his thick fingers between her thighs and the inside of her pants, fingered the linen, and with an explosion of energy ripped them clean off her body, flinging the ball of cloth behind them both. "Don't you dare have second thoughts now." Grinning at her exposed flesh, soft and white with the innocence of a snowflake floating to earth, his eyes flared. Her vision flickered downward, glimpsing the pulsating wooden log protruding from his body, and there was a violent churn in her stomach and breasts as he ripped apart her thighs, threw her leg behind him so that it was hoisted on his right shoulder, and snatched the innocence from the face of life.

Blood. Erupting from her body, spurting onto the recently painted walls. Red intertwined fiercely with blue; black was born, dripping off the ceiling and crawling onto her and Grimmjow's thrusting bodies. Her pores burst open, spilling violent drops of sweat down her breasts, stomach, and into the hole that the Sixth Espada so selfishly and violently occupied.

A screech burst from her mouth, protesting against his thrusts, against his wicked grin… But it only added to the intense nothingness: even his voice was barking something at her, but she heard no words. The girl slashed her nails down his back, clawing viciously to regain her balance -- but her body, unable to inhale due to the heaving 170 pounds of muscle restraining her, regained nothing. Vaguely she felt her eyes rolling into her head, pupils facing toward her aching brain as his hands pinned her arms to the floor, his feet pinned her legs to the ground, and his face devoured and consumed at her nipples… She was falling… falling into a black void of nothing…

Her body, growing more and more lifeless as the foreign semen of Hollow darted through her body, continued slipping and sliding on the growing puddle of excess vaginal blood beneath them. There was a white, liquidy, stretchy solid bursting from Grimmjow into all corners of the chamber… She felt herself drowning painfully as the stinging substance pried its way into her gaping mouth, her nostrils, her eye sockets…

Her eyes snapped open, consciousness bursting through her veins once more; it was over. A blood-coated hand was protruding from Grimmjow's chest, grasping his pulsating heart in its clutches.

Squeeze.

The fluids of the organ exploded onto the floor. The hand retreated, returning to its rightful owner, who, she saw as her vision finally settled and focused accurately on him, was none other than the Fourth Espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer, staring down at her exposed flesh and the dead Grimmjow before her. "He gave you the ultimate test of strength," he said quietly, "and you failed. You should've known he wouldn't have been able to lay a hand on your beloved Shinigami -- Kurosaki, was it? -- if you didn't let him. The final test of your strength, and you managed to prove yourself to be nothing but the weakling you emerged from the womb as. The weakling your god made you to be."

He examined her, and for a moment it seemed as though he was even examining the pain circulating in her soul. But he pulled back out, his expression blank as always. "And now, for some reason utterly unbeknownst to you, you still feel a peculiar completion in your soul." Was he reading her mind? "It's as if," he spoke, "you're fine with destroying yourself, as long as it ensures that you are the only one who suffers. You would drown yourself just to perpetuate the hope of saving one friend. Pathetic."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "That's not true..." The voice emanated from her throat, but she did not hear herself say it; her mind was still drowning in the remembrance of the sexual discharge of Grimmjow.

But she broke eye contact. She did feel that way.

"Realize that your foolish self-sacrifice only ignites further issues. Still, do what you please; the affairs of insects do not concern me. I came to give you tonight's dinner, but I see you've been eating enough tonight," he said to her, eyeing Grimmjow.

Ulquiorra whipped around and, with no physical sign of compassion, remorse, or sympathy, made for the exit. He didn't seem to care that the entire reason she had agreed to Grimmjow's sexual proposal, was not to ensure Ichigo's life, but to ensure his.

But no. Indifferent, Ulquiorra left Grimmjow's lifeless, cold, and flaccid body still inside her.

--

Author's Note- This was a very interesting short story for me to write, just because I do happen to see the realism it entails. Still, when you take a risk like this, though, you're bound to get a flame, eh? In my defense, I'll just say this.

This might have seemed like a baseless, unrealistic lemon, but let's muse. First, Orihime is not made into a 'slut' here; if one reads closely, one can see that she is trying dearly to protect someone else's life (a very distinct part of her compassionate personality). Furthermore, we all know that although the girl has school smarts, when it comes to "street smarts" she isn't always the sharpest tool in the shed... She wouldn't have realized that Grimmjow isn't quite as strong as he claims to be when compared to someone like Ulquiorra. Besides, would it matter? A threat is a threat; it's not likely that Orihime would carefully analyze the situation and easily identify a bluff like this one, especially from someone as intimidating as an Espada. In addition, if you examine her characterization very closely in the manga, you see that she puts everyone besides herself as a first priority, and lowers herself to accommodate them. (Actually, if you happen to be able to comprehend Japanese and can examine her Japanese speech, you'll find she uses rather humble, polite verbs and modes of speech even when speaking to someone even as close to her as Ichigo.) If you consider this, and consider how much she savors the lives of everyone, it isn't a crazy idea at all for her to be taken advantage of by an Espada.

I just took it a step further, and made it a sexual thing.

This wasn't meant to be a lemon. It was more of a way of brooding on the collision of Orihime Inoue's beautiful personality vs. the more "hungry" (both battle hungry, and conceivably lust-related hungry) characteristics of Grimmjow.

Just a muse. Thanks for reading, everyone!