Hi people! This is the first time I publish a fanfiction in english, best said, I've translated into english my fic Cuidados Sustitutos (Substitute Cares by boho request. I have not got a wonderful english but I did my best. It was a long time since I wanted to write this and I'm happy that I can upload a fic in this language.
This is an AiHime, as many fangirls call it. I hesitated in the beginnig at writing this fanfiction because I like IchiHime indeed and this is the last straw but well, as a lot of girls more, I've fell into temptation and here is what from that came out.
The plot is the Orihime's staying at Las Noches and her relationship with Aizen. It's a very hot telling, I won't say more.
Sorry for the mistakes. I wish you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters are Tite Kubo's property.
-Woman. Aizen-sama wants to see you.
Orihime unexpectedly made Ulquiorra's face out and, tired of giving always the same answer, she sighed, throwing her glance in the floor.
-Yes.
Aizen Sousuke demanded her frequently. He always ordered her to get out from the cell to spend time with him reading some book, singing some melody by that fragile voice of hers he loved, accompanying him at tea time or getting him out of boredom at dinning time; to tell him about her frame of mind -when he well-knew the girl was not enjoying her stay at Las Noches-, or he just ordered to call her to have her sat in front of him and to watch her for long and endless whiles. Orihime didn't bother to accompanying him; even if the moments she spent by his side were empty and silent she got the feeling overnight to be necessary for him and she started to believe that he wanted her to fill his capsizing hours. It had been the first time she was asked to sing "Crystal", making her to repeat constantly the line "Someone never knows who is living for, someone never knows who is dying for", when she clung to the pleasing of that man whenever she could by every sound her voice emitted from her gloomiest fear, though it was been ignored by him.
She was going in the forced walking in company of that man whose only thing inspired by him was languor and she weakly wondered how much time else she would have to bear inside that eternally dark crypt, where the only things she saw were resentful and aggressive faces; the only thing she smelt was the dampness of the cold walls that suffocated her at sleeping time, if perhaps she could fall asleep; she only heard routine orders that have her already stunned and the only thing that her sense of taste perceived was the flavor of odd foods, apparently Mediterranean, that, despite the well-tasting, they had her sickened. Ulquiorra walked scattering a detestable patience around, not with the charity of giving a word to her, and the man's haughty silence got Orihime on her nerves. They never addressed to the other but for the emission of some order or, on the contrary, they did not address. The invisible man stopped in front of a double-entrance door and the woman let her grudges fall on the floor, as it happened every time she waited for the meeting with her kidnapper.
-It's Fourth Espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer. Aizen-sama; I have done what you ordered to me and I brought the woman to your room -he said with his usual sobriety by a microphone that was held back in the wall.
-Good. Come in -the speaker summed up with a hard voice tone that was exotic for Orihime.
Such a call made Orihime overwhelmed; during the few weeks she was in the palace, Aizen had never met her in his room. Whenever she gathered him it was in the living-room, in the dining-room, in the winter garden or in the cell, that's why the uncertainty about the reason of the meeting dyed her cheeks red, since she remembered very well how it felt to be in a male's room. Her nerves were visible, of course, and Ulquiorra noticed that since he recognized the girl's usual mild moods from her behavior at that time, which was becoming unsteady and eager.
-Go in -the Arrancar's words slapped her rigorously.
-Yes -she replied.
And she went in. In the beginning she had only put her sight on the ostentatious place look, because she hadn't seen the emperor of Las Noches there. It was a huge room, it was possibly huger than her whole house, with an enormous bed located in front of the entrance, filled-up with pillows and there were pajamas' in the top. It was a little dark, it was a little light; the glows of the room arose by the half-light caused by a tiny bedside lamp and the brightness of the crescent moon that got inside by the window escaping from the night. The light was like Earth less and the vanilla-colored walls also helped to make the place fascinating. She looked at the left side and she saw a big library stuffed with books -a big wealth of books- and she also paid attention to the floor, made with varnished wood and a smooth texture, which lifted a pair of enigmatic figures carpet and which held up at the same time an imposing mirror framed by plate curves. Next to this one there was a dressing table full with perfume flasks, that sweetened the atmosphere like causing a spell, and she couldn't observe any more detail from the tens of them that there were because some ones were indescribable and some others were very rare and because her roommate interrupted her observation.
-Hi, Orihime.
She gasped and before any consideration he was already by her side, nearing his face to her ear.
-Welcome to my room -he whispered instilling a scathing tone unintentionally into her -. From now on you will stay here -it was not an option-. It's pretty, isn't it?
-Yes -the young girl replied with atrophy in her respiratory rhythm.
-I decided that cell is not a fit place for you. The truth is that you distort the reality in this world.
He was starting to persuade her by suggestive words and indirect flatteries and, although that kind of things sometimes consoled her bitterness, it most of the times intimidated and became her frigid less. Aizen went ahead to show the new room to his guest. Orihime felt suffocated. It was very hot inside there and trying to avoid the discomfort she blinked, and after opening up her eyes she found herself in his arms, without remembering when she had fainted.
-What's wrong? -he answered with a sharp tone.
Orihime looked dazzled at him and in the middle of the faint she made an effort to response.
-Nothing.
-Don't dare to lie to me -he stated with a compassionate authority-. What's wrong? -he repeated.
-I got very much warm -the girl answered, afraid of saying something that wasn't of his kidnapper's liking.
Sousuke helped her to stand up, a little displeased, but that faded when Orihime looked up and, out of habit, put her glance over him. Her eyes were clear as the cloudless sky. The woman got over and buried her sight in some corner of the room for the man not to find it.
-Are you okay? -the man wanted to know.
-Yes -she was brief and concise.
-I have to work. You will stay here and you will wait for me to come back. I won't see you in the day long since Gin and Kaname are in their day off -Sousuke was telling- and... Try not to fall asleep -he asked caressing her cheek, triumphantly smiling at her blushed face and at the restless shudder of her body.
He left and let Orihime skin-deep intimidated. What was wrong with that man? Why did he intimidate her with such a persuasive resolution? Or what was strange, why did she like the brush between his frivolous hands and her warm face? That man was wrong. If he believed that he would make her drop into the furtive game he was planning he was in a big mistake because she had no intention to let herself go by his adulations and seduction, not even if Ichigo was given in exchange for it. It was then when she realized that she would have to sleep with him, to share the bath-room with him, to change her clothes in front of him, to be herself in front of him and technically to live with him. It was a paradox: she didn't want to do anything about his fatal lover connotations but she felt tempted by the idea of sharing the bed with him; not because a sexual idea but for a shelter reason, for a warmth reason. Suddenly she imagined herself wrapped in sheets by his side and in her vision it seemed she had suddenly grown up because Aizen was very older than her and that certainty was another peculiar aspect of that odd attraction. At least he was physically thirteen years older than her and the possible experiences that he could have had with another women started to make her worry. She sat on a long white sofa, placed in the right side of the room -because she didn't even want to touch the bed soaked by his perfume-, and gathering her pants just about to tear them, she let fall down an unintentional torrent of tears that wet her whole two hands. Obviously, she was crying because of the situation. That man chased her voraciously and she was so child that didn't know what to do. Apart this, she missed Ichigo with a violent and desperate love and she entailed all the time remembering the kiss she finally didn't give to him. She could felt how those so much different men were rusting her feelings; they both were constantly present in her mind but the only thing they did was to hurt her.
She dried her tears with the sleeves of her clothes and, just passing, she saw a closet made of a rigorous material and immediately guessed it was "hers". That denomination didn't fit in her mind. She started to explore it and at opening the doors she felt a nice new smell, like perfumed woods and formal clothes. There were many kimonos; these attracted her attention more than the other garments because their fabrics were fantastic, they were of she always had wanted and they were of flower themes, her favorites. She decided to dress one of them, sugar-colored and maroon lilies printed, and for killing time she began reading a novel, "Hopscotch", which got her bored in the beginning but after twenty pages got her more caught than the new clothes.
She couldn't see them; the surveillance cameras were carefully hidden around the whole room. Indeed, their using was for watching Orihime to be sure about the girl would not do any inappropriate and suspicious thing. Anyway, if she pretended to rise up Aizen wouldn't turn to any violent punishment, since he had never thought about doing her harm. So he made use of these cameras to monitor her during his breaks while she was coming and going to and fro, dismantling the air with the slow moves of her hips, breaking the same cameras with the exaggerated perfection of her protuberant breast, scraping the furniture with the flaccidity of her copper-colored hair, impregnating the atmosphere with all of hers; the room was already learning her by heart. To watch her was, no doubt, to study the Arts; it was necessary to look at her with one's own eyes to believe in her beauty. His study over her was so neat that when he didn't see her he could remember her with an exact precision as if she was in front of him.
So he was having a tea, pleasantly alone, completely abstracted from the infusion taste because of savoring the delighting image of the woman who was giving to him, without knowing this, the exciting fact of being mysterious.
The god of Hueco Mundo returned to his work with his mind gone and his hormones burning. It was done: Orihime finally had been moved to his room, just as he wanted even since a lot of time before the girl trod on the masked beings land -and the reason why he didn't do it before was to not put in her head the idea about he was a degenerate-, and she was already settled down in there. That woman really suited at his style. Then the question was when: the infectious desire of making her his had laid him in the wait for long nights. As the young girl cried or slept or thought about Kurosaki Ichigo inside the gloomy cell that had her deprived of freedom, the man was harboring the more possible unfathomable and inept fantasies to decently tell. Many times he couldn't sleep when imagined her huge naked breast, and if he got it, he dreamt of he was the driver of her frontal seat, of he braked and accelerated with divine ecstasy, believing himself the owner of her intact motor. At waking up from that dreams he had to change the sheets since these ones dawned damp because of the boiling dreamlike damages. The reality was that if he didn't love that unknown body for the male hand it was because he loved its owner more. He loved her but in a rare way. It wasn't the typical love of the novels of the XVII or XVIII century, where the romance between a man and a woman is one more heart inside the body of both; it was a raging love, propeled by carnal desires, where the whole body was the engine organ of the whole feeling: in it, there were pushing wishes of a passionate comfort that were built of a constant need of having her nude for him and giving her kisses and pampering that at conventional love are not given. Then, when the working time had finished, he stopped thinking about his most scorching enigmas and, with inborn boast, he walked to his room feeling more like meeting her than living.
He opened the doors calmly and got in. He locked the door and when he didn't see Orihime anywhere he heard her; she was in the bath-room. He got comfort and lightly dressed and his will for seeing her overcame him.
-Orihime -he called her out loud.
-Yes! -she hurried to make presence, frightened because the more fearsome time in the day had come.
She appeared; she got out of the bath-room with her damp and tangled hair. She had been picking up from the floor some cleaning stuffs when the steadiest voice she had ever listened in her life had snorted the letters of her name. Orihime had found out different ways to spend time when Sousuke was gone. She had tried the kimonos on, wary about somebody could see her; she had researched every book, inquiring title, author and age; she had played Chess alone, getting always frustrated because she missed all the time; she had written a letter for Tatsuki even when she knew very well her friend would never read it; she had smelt every perfume that Sousuke had on the dressing table until she got bored and everyone seemed the same smell to her; she had put her clothes in order; she had spent hours reading until she got eyestrain and took a nap. When she woke up she had a shower and when finished she tried to seize a facial cream but she slipped, because her feet were wet, and, unintentionally, she reached the other bathing stuffs that were inside the cabinet, letting them fall down next to her. She hadn't brushed because she wanted first to put the things in order and it was then when she heard the soft voice of her roommate, who had just reappeared in the place.
So she had been in the bath-room.
-Is everything alright? -Aizen inquired with enviable smile.
-Yes -Orihime replied as trembling as the sheets of a tree.
-Good -he said-. You look messy. Have anything passed? -he asked with doubtful look.
-Ah... Aizen-sama, I'm sorry. Your bath-room... Some things have fallen down accidentally from your cabinet. I was picking them up. It was an accident. I just slipped and I don't know how I could knock so much things over. I'm sorry -she replied ashamed of her ridiculousness.
-Ouh... I see. It's okay, don't feel sorry about this. It's nothing -the man stated calming the girl, who was shocked-. It doesn't matter.
Orihime looked at him and got calmed at his anger less but then she looked away because his making out on her got her nervous. Right in that time she was really afraid; his look and that moment had stunned her head. She was alone with him and she would be just like that until the next day. What would they do? Would they talk? The princess didn't even want to think.
-I'll have a bath -the man informed making his way towards Orihime's closet, from where he took out an adult nightdress-. Put it on -he ordered-. It is done for you.
-Yes -she replied before swallowing such a horror.
Sousuke got in the bath-room, taking the pyjama that was folded in the top of the bed, and after two minutes it was possible to hear the metallic sound of the shower like something noisy in Orihime's stunning. She had already seen that nightdress and the only thing she had felt when she saw how much suggestive it was was a will for burning it down, but she didn't do because it looked good among the clothes. The sugar-colored kimono she was wearing slumped into the ground; taking away any trace of modesty she could have had until then, due to when she had put the suggestive nightdress on such an adult air had wrapped her with no permission. She looked herself angry in the mirror because of her big breast. It had never bothered, indeed, she liked it, but in that circumstance it was not useful for anything. The nightdress showed an arrogant neckline, it was made of a black silk that was juxtaposed under tulle of the same color and a wild lace, and thank God, she thought, it wasn't short, since it came to her knees. Orihime was owner of an ineffable body: undoubtfully she had been outlined by a divine finger. Her curves and roundnesses were prominent to the point where she herself thought herself haughty because of the fact of having to live with a beautiful appearance. With that dress on, her innate sensuality started, little by little, to develop. She meditated on her reflect, knowing she had a nice face and that she wouldn't have to worry about the scopes of her attraction; she always thought herself measuring up any man. Not due to she was self-centered or something like that, but due to it had been her late brother, Sora, who had stated that once to her. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world", he used to say. "Even if somebody tells the contrary you have to know it'd be lying to you. Any boy would say no to you, although there's a lot of time until that thing happens." That words Orihime remembered every time she thought about the possibility of not being Ichigo's kind. She looked herself in the mirror for a long while until she heard the noise of the shower faucet stop and then she went running to sit down in the sofa, neither will to cry nor pants to gather this time. After some minutes the man got out of the bath-room, dressed by a golden satin that best combined with her good-toned skin, and while he was looking himself in the long mirror he found Orihime inside it, posed on the white sofa just as a butterfly on a jasmine. "She perfect", he thought. He spread some perfume on her neck and nude chest before a torrid silence poured out over the room. He turned around and walked towards the middle of the space that was separating them, and as she was shrugging her shoulders, yearning for being blind at least for that night, he was savoring her by his eyes.
-Come near Orihime -he ordered softly.
-Yes.
She got up showing off unintentionally her firm, slender, clear and perfectly outlined legs. She stood at him without even looking earnestly at him out of the corner of her eye. Aizen let go a sigh when her lush neckline got into his eyes, pushing his thoughts down to the obscenity, but he immediately tried to look her in the face because he feared to not be able to restrain himself.
-Tell me, do you like your new bed-room? -he answered fallaciously interested and with disorientated purposes.
-Yes -Orihime responded with her usual style: her damp breath and her out and anxious tone-. It's pretty.
-I knew you would like it -he said getting out of the amazing-. Tell me, did you see your clothes? I've selected it all. As I've said before: it is all done for you.
-Yes. Thank you.
-Don't worry -he made an insipid pause-. Orihime, you know that I would never be able to hurt you, right? -he doubtfully questioned.
The young girl took a long time to respond. Where did he want to come up to?
-I don't know.
-Don't you know? -The man retorted a little disappointed-. What a pity. Then you will know now -he leant towards her face, as he usually liked doing every time his intention was to flatter her-... That I'd never be able to mean you harm -and he talked to her in the ear-. What is more, I have to make myself totally sure about you are okay, you are healthy...
The fear in Orihime's heart was red-hot. That man bewitched her and she didn't know how to evade his effects, which were narcotic and deafening.
-...I have to provide you for nothing to be lack for you -he murmured while his hands were landing on her nude shoulders- and for you to neither suffer hardships... -he climbed his face up to her one, finally getting her mate's look.
Orihime looked at him and she saw that the man was a fierce delirium. It was the first time she got him so near, their noses were just about to come into contact and the lips of his were impatiently seeking her. Sousuke's hands were sounding out her narrow waist when one of them moved up to her neck, touching it lightly with tenderness never seen even by him, and the beating of her enchanted heart got infinite. His lips were just around a second to her lips when the same hand moved, again, up to her chin.
-...nor suffer dissatisfactions -he concluded, swindling her mouth in frenzy and making her start suddenly.
He entangled his fingers into her endless hair, caressing her nape with subtle friction and he hurried up to kiss her more vigorously as her lips get used to his ones. Orihime was still, even bearing in her mouth an irremediable pain; no matter if she asked that man to stop, he would not and though he would it wouldn't stop the pain that, even, was pleasing. She looked everywhere without looking, putting up with Sousuke's friction over her infant mouth; he bit her lower lip with no pity, causing her an enormous suffering that made her feel dying. She uttered an strident shout, which made she herself to get scared, and Aizen's sense of reality came alive, which he had started to lose since he knew the taste of the woman.
-I'm sorry, did I injure you? -he inquired softly, checking her mouth carefully.
-N-no. No -she replied, innocently.
The kiss, definitively, was liking and she didn't understood why; was he harassing her then? He spoke about providing her and bla bla bla but, when the hell he had thought she was eager? Even so, despite the slight stigma, she couldn't help looking at his eyes, deeply chestnut-brown, without realizing that her look had revealed that the happened thing hadn't bothered her. Nevertheless, Aizen resolved that it wasn't the moment yet; Orihime wasn't ready yet to know ecstasy, so he moved back.
-Let's sleep, Orihime -he ordered with hidden tiredness up to then.
-Yes -she replied, confused. Then what was that?
First the man lay down and he saw how she was walking to the other side of the bed. She had a wonderful body and she was virgin as well. The woman lay down by his side, most away possible, but his hand caught her up in a breath and stop existing among her hair. When Orihime tried to look at him he was already asleep, his face was very much different from the usual shown one. When slept his face was benevolent and lenient, with no trace of evil. She turned out the light of the bedside table trying to fall long dreaming asleep, which did not come after one capsizing hour in where she dared to watch him immodestly since he was sleeping, seeing his blameless outline, concentrating herself on his twinkling silhouette even in the darkness, chasing his forms and shapes sharply, trying to image the feeling of that hair lock that was falling irreparably over his face, smelling his wild perfume that had the whole room impregnated, guessing his smooth skin and wishing it to be soft, scrutinizing the harmonious and relaxing rhythm of his breathing that, in the end, it was what got her to sleep.
That was the first night together. They only made an incomplete kiss that opened fire and the arrived heat stayed there forever because even years later Aizen's trapping and Orihime's maturing this one was still there lighted for whoever visits that everlasting room.
There are four chapters. This is the number one. It takes me a lot of hours to translate one sole chapter so please understand the delay.
I wish you have liked it and thanks for reading.
Natali.