Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Lyrics belong to Sarah McLachlan.
A/N: Well, I decided to do something a little different and stray from my usual barrage of Ulquihimes. So instead, I present you with an AU that poses the question: What if Grimmjow had been entrusted with Orihime's care instead of Ulquiorra? The answer being pure, smutty drivel, of course.
…Yeah, okay, so it was just an excuse for keem to be a pervert. YOU'RE WELCOME.
Enjoy!
PS. Does anyone else find it hilarious that Word wants to change 'Orihime' to 'Orifice?' Oh spellcheck, you make me so happy at times. And so pissed at others.
--
And I would hold you down, kiss you so hard,
(I'll take your breath away)
And after I wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes, dear
--
"So they fitted you with a uniform, eh?" comes a familiar drawl from behind her, and Orihime startles so badly that she nearly knocks over the dinner trolley she's been provided with. Her silverware clatters loudly on the heavy, porcelain plate that she's been picking off, and Grimmjow chuckles, a sardonic, unsettling sound. Her large grey eyes watch him warily from where he stands, one shoulder braced against the frame of her door as he watches back keenly. One leg is crossed across the other, a seemingly relaxed, nonviolent gesture, but Orihime knows better than to think that she's safe.
"I didn't know you were there," she says, meekly, abandoning her fork altogether and instead folding her hands nervously in her lap. Grimmjow offers her a rakish grin and pushes himself off of the frame, advancing forward. Orihime wilts slightly as his broad shadow settles upon her, encompassing the auburn-haired girl in its darkness.
"Well, obviously," he says, bending over at the waist so that he can peer into the lovely contours of her face. "If I was a snake, I woulda bit ya."
And Orihime isn't exactly sure that he isn't. Grimmjow's captive is uncomfortable, and not unreasonably so: the Sexta Espada has never been one to pay regard to social niceties; he's always close, invasive. He is so near that she can smell his breath on her face, and it is stale and faintly metallic, a smell that she associates with killing.
"What brings you do my quarters, Grimmjow-sama?" She asks politely.
"Oh, you know," he leans back, and Orihime gives a little inward sigh of relief. "Just making sure that Aizen's favorite pet is settled in and all." He waves his hand dismissively, smirking.
"Ah," she nods, relaxing a little. She's never totally sure if today is going to be the day where she's officially outlived her use. The Sexta Espada makes her feel especially nervous, regarding her in a manner that seems to suggest that he would very much like to eat her. "Well, if there's anything I can do for Grimmjow-sama…"
"As a matter of fact, there is," Grimmjow interrupts sleekly, eyes dancing in mischief. "Why don't you stand up, let me get a look at you?"
Orihime frowns, and Grimmjow nods eagerly, as though to say 'go on.' She leans forward, hesitates, and eventually rises to her feet. There is a beat as Grimmjow openly leers at her, his eyes sweeping up and down her supple form. She waits patiently, awkwardly.
"Go ahead, woman," Grimmjow says encouragingly after a moment. "Give it a whirl."
Orihime looks to him with wide, inquisitive eyes, but her captor merely jerks his head in an irritable gesture. Heat rising in her cheeks, Orihime obediently pivots on the spot. Grimmjow will have her do it several more times before he's satisfied. When she stops, she feels unsteady on her feet, suddenly overcome with a severe case of vertigo.
"Looks good on you," he approves with a nod. Orihime smiles blandly, anxiously; she doesn't know what to say to that. "Bet it looks better off, though."
There is malicious glint in his eye this time as he draws close. Orihime instinctively takes a step back, alarmed, and Grimmjow smiles. It is a predator's smile, full of jagged white teeth and vicious in its intent.
"You know, I've been so bored lately," he says, almost conversationally. His hand reaches up, brushes away a strand of auburn hair that's fallen in front of her face. "Now that Kurosaki ain't around, I don't have anybody to have fun kickin' the shit outta. So I figure, why not expend my energy elsewhere?"
Orihime shies away from his imposing stature. "I-I don't know what you mean," she mumbles, blushing hotly. The shoulder that he now rests his heavy hand on is shaking.
"Oh, but I think you do," he purrs, and he leans in, rubs the side of his face against her cheek, almost as though nuzzling her. The sharp point of his jaw bone digs uncomfortably into the slope of her neck, and Orihime freezes up.
"Don't tremble," Grimmjow whispers huskily, and the tongue that laves the hollow of her throat is rough, like a cat's. "It makes you seem weak."
"B-But I am weak," she whispers hoarsely, and she can feel Grimmjow's smile without having to actually see it. He chuckles, breathing hot, acrid air into those auburn tresses of her hair before finally pulling away.
"Take your clothes off," he tells her huskily.
Under the scrutiny of her captor's gaze, Orihime has no choice but to comply. Her hands shake as they reach up behind her and sweep aside the length of her hair. Beneath it she finds the zipper to her outfit, which she pulls down with nervous, white hands.
The fabric parts and peels away from her like a second skin, exposing the milky flesh beneath. Orihime's breasts are proud and heavy, with nipples set high, and Grimmjow watches her, utterly fascinated as she steps out of the garment. Clad only in her panties, which are frilly and white, Orihime feels her entirety grow flushed and uncomfortable.
"Your whole body blushes," Grimmjow purrs approvingly. One finger hooks under the hem of her underwear and begins to tug them gently down. "Very nice."
Moments later finds Grimmjow walking Orihime backwards until the back of her thighs press against the edge of the armrest to her couch. Grimmjow pushes the dinner trolley savagely aside before guiding her into a sitting position, shoving those creamy thighs apart so that she's posed provocatively—mechanically—before him. Then he sheds his own clothes in record time, and Orihime deliberately averts her gaze, unable to look. She instead focuses in on the intense planes of his face, the look of fierce concentration that he wears.
One of Grimmjow's calloused hands reaches down and cups one of her enormous breasts. The nipple gathers and stiffens as the tip of his thumb sweeps over it, and Orihime bites back a sigh.
"Like that, don't you? You little slut."
Orihime chews on her bottom lip as Grimmjow aligns their bodies. Just as the tip of his cock brushes her wet center, however, the fearful-eyed captive seizes up.
"Can you bear me, woman?" Grimmjow breathes gruffly, teasing her slick folds with the rigid length of him.
"I-I can try," Orihime says, a little uncertainly, as her eyelids flutter closed.
--
Grimmjow is not a gentle lover, and the marks he inflict upon her will weep blood. Orihime's usually pale complexion is marred with violet bruises and savage teeth marks, inflictions that will be tender and sore for days afterwards. It will take seemingly eons before Grimmjow himself is finally satisfied; until the raw, chaffed flesh of their joined, rutting bodies makes both occupants cry out in startled, acute pain. And then he will leave her, broken and helpless, spread out lewdly on the couch in his absence. And Orihime will cry and cry, and wonder why she so desperately wants more.
--
OMAKE:
Grimmjow, with a quaint smirk on his face stares intently at Orihime.
"WOMAN, give me a foot massage!" Grimmjow shouts.
Orihime looked at him with a somewhat disturbed and unsettled look. After which, she looks down and gazes upon Grimmjow's puppy feetsies.
"...Kurosaki-kun" she says after a deep sigh.
--
Thanks, Andy. XD