"Your bed is in here..." she quietly confided to the dark haired man, her eyes downcast as to avoid gazing into his. He softly brushes past her, opening the door and stepping in, surveying the bleakness within the walls. Nothing caught his eye, save for a blue bed and desk with pictures strung along the surface, and so he turns back to thank her. He doesn't really mean the words, but he'll say anything to her, anything to make her look at him.
Her eyes are downcast still, and she is fidgeting with her fingers and softly biting her lip. He felt so much more powerful than her, even in this moment. But all he said, in his unsure tone of voice, was thank you. She deftly became aware that the door had clicked shut, and so she numbly made her way down the hall.
The situation they'd found themselves in was so contrasting to the one they'd been in only a year previously. Orihime was his prisoner, and he her captor. A year ago, it was Ulquiorra who was showing her to her room, was bringing her food and water, was mocking and taunting her, breaking down every fragment of her mind. And now, now when he was completely helpless and hopeless, it was her turn to play prison guard.
It only seemed fair to everyone. She was, after all, the one who found him two days ago, weak and powerless, limping through the streets sometime around midnight. When he saw her, his hand had reached out to her awe struck form, so reminiscent to the last time he was able to see her sweet face. 'Onna..' he had whimpered, before falling unconscious. She, neither knowing how or why he was there, had carried him hurriedly over to Urahara's shop. Two nights later, she still can't get the image of his exhausted green eyes, boring holes into her very soul.
And so now she avoids them, looking off at the floor or into the distance. Because Orihime knows that if she looks at him again, her wall she had carefully constructed in the past year will crumble. The emotions, which she has suppressed over his death, will rush back to her at an overwhelming speed. She, unaware that she's still moving her legs, makes her way over to the couch and topples onto it. Sleep takes her.
Minutes are hours for Ulquiorra. Time is so much different in this world than where he was made, and so this world's time is so uncomfortably foreign to him. He is laying in the bed she gave him, and he is watching a spider move across the wall. The green eyed man is aware that the woman is fast asleep, and he is too weak to leave the house, so he lays there. Waiting for dawn.
He has no recollection of how he came into existence, all he remembered were bright lights, and an overwhelming amount of time. Time to ponder things such as his past, his allegiances, and his indescribably emotions for a certain red haired woman. Even before he became air, the woman had transfixed him. Captured his attention in a way he never figured would happen to someone like him. Maybe to one of the more primal arrancar, like Grimmjow or Nnoitora. But the cold, unfeeling espada? Never.
It was something in the way her mind worked, how she could see beauty in everything around her, even something as unfeeling as Hueco Mundo. The little things are what have plagued him to this day; the way her eyes matched the color of the rain, the way she bit her lip when he especially riled her up, the way she cried when she thought no one could hear her. He wanted to protect her, and he wanted her for himself. She made him think such vulgar thoughts that it was so hard sometimes to be in her very presence.
As he pondered it more and more, that unfamiliar feeling stirred in his chest where his hollow whole used to be. But there was pain. Why wouldn't she just look at him?
There was a noise that came from the walls to his right. He turned his head, as if to hear this noise better. A few moments later, it came louder. A sob.
Without realizing what he was doing, he lifted himself off the bed and opened the door to her room open. As he made his way down the hallway, the noise grew louder and louder until he reached the coach. There she was, sobbing softly in her sleep. He was unsure what he should do, the obvious answer would be to wake her, but with her he never knew what to do. Her brows were knitted in a sort of pitiful upturn and her plump lower lip was quivering softly.
Ulquiorra could no longer stand it. His pale hand gripped her hand and the other ran its fingers through her hair. "Orihime," his hoarse voice called out softly, "Orihime, wake up."
She startled awake, her rainy eyes and his evergreen ones met. The beauty of her looking at him for the first time in two days, the sheer beauty of them in this moment, it was as if earth met sky. He attempted to hold her gaze for as long as he possibly could. His mouth opened slowly, and the words of "It was only a dream" escaped from behind it.
Her face contrived into a look of pure agony, and as if forgetting for a moment in time that he was the enemy long ago, that he'd ruined her life beyond repair, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his collarbone. He couldn't fathom what he should do, all he knew was that she was in pain and she smelled so incredibly delicious. Considering he was not wearing a shirt, and her nightdress was fairly thin, he felt everything. Every curve of her body was pressed into his torso and the bare skin of her arms was intoxicating him. He wanted to feel every inch of her skin and more than anything he wanted to quell this remorse.
He turned his head so his lips were against her ear and he whispered huskily "Why are you crying?"
She let out a heavy sigh, and responded "You made me hollow, and then you left me. Why do.. I..." she sunk her head further into his shoulder, as if to hide from what her words were attempting to form. Ulquiorra felt his arms snake around her hips, so small and luscious that he no longer could form any other thought than to redeem himself. He should have known she'd hate him beyond repair. He should have KNOWN she could never feel anything toward him that she felt for her precious Ichigo. He'd been foolish and weak.. so incredibly weak, to let this human in and feel things deep inside he now, in this moment, knew the name for. To utter such a name now would be the death of him, but the word echoed in his mind as he gripped her tighter. He was clinging onto her as if this were the only moment he'd ever have to be with her, as if this one singular moment would repair all that he'd done to her.
And then, she did something he would never in his existence expect. She kissed him where his hollow whole used to be. It was a small, almost insignificant contact but it rendered him utterly motionless and speechless. She was crying and kissing across the center of his collar bone and he utterly lost it. His carefully built self control snapped, and he no longer seemed to care.
Taking her face roughly in his hands, he kissed her roughly on the lips. His kisses were urgent and desperate, desperate for her to feel anything for him. She claimed he'd made her hollow? He wanted to fill her with everything he felt for her. His hard kisses contrasted deeply with the soft way in which he held her skull, stroking his fingers through her auburn locks.
After only moments of them kissing, she began to equal his intensity. It was as if they were both wishing to swallow the other whole, to repair the damage they'd inflicted upon each other. She gripped onto his hair, keeping him latched to her mouth as if to suffocate and drown him in this moment they shared. As each agonizingly sweet moment of their desperate kissing grew on, his hands began to explore every inch of her body. They trailed from her jaw, to her neck, to her breast, ghosting along every crevice of her curves and contours until her reached her bottom. He gripped onto it as he lifted himself off the floor they had found themselves on, and he carefully made his way to her bedroom, her still firmly clutched in his arms.
He attempted to take care not to crush her, but she persistently held him against her, never leaving his mouth. She was making the loveliest sounds and, he noted, they grew in intensity as his hands ghosted over her breasts. Growing ambitious, he began kissing a trail down her neck and collarbone, mimicking what she'd done to his earlier. When he reached the top of her chest, she surprised him by raising herself enough to throw her nightgown from her body.
He stared in awe at the woman before him. Her breasts that spilled forth from the offending dress bounced into place, and were absolutely everything he'd dreamt and imagined. His mouth quickly clutched onto her breast, and sucked softly at her rosy peaks. She mewled in appreciation, and her hips began to undulate into his abdomen, as if to urge him on.
At one particular point, she squirmed just to the point where her bare womanhood pressed into his clothed groin, and he all but lost what small fragile control he still clung onto.
As she rocked into him, Orihime no longer cared what people would think if they heard them; grunting and panting out their tensions. She no longer cared if her friends would judge her for what she was doing, all she knew was that he was here. He was HERE and he was devouring her body, mind, and soul. But as her legs circled around his waist, urging his mindless thrusts on, she contemplated if he'd had the latter two from the beginning.
He observed her for a moment, and was rendered speechless. Her breasts were bouncing with each intake of breathe she drew, and her stormy eyes gazed up at him filled with lust and something he could not place. "Beautiful," was the only word he could formulate, and he whispered it shakily as he crushed her to his chest. This threw her off guard, her eyes widened a fraction at his endearment. He thought her beautiful?
As the former espada nibbled on her ear, he groaned softly into the appendage "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my existence." She turned her head to gaze up at him, his eyes were so expressive and honest. In that moment, she felt elated and yet regretful. Regret flowed through her veins, thick and sticky, because she saw now how she'd treated him previously. When all she wanted was Ichigo, all Ulquiorra wanted was her. How selfish she'd been, how selfish and blind. In this moment, she was blind no more. She would redeem herself, she would show him that she could see him and in the process, she would heal herself.
Orihime's hand reached down through his pants to grasp his member. His face melted in pleasure and frustration, his eyes stared intently into hers. Her gaze did not wonder from his eyes as she stroked him. Something fiery inside of Ulquiorra snapped as he roughly grabbed her hand and forced it above her head. He only paused a moment, a brief moment, before he drove home. She cried out in pain, a deep soul shattering cry that made him freeze.
She'd never been touched.
He instantly knelt down to kiss away her budding tears. He should have known, he should have fucking known! His arms wrapped tighter around her body as it began to quiver. All he could do was trace patterns across her shoulder blades and whisper things he couldn't comprehend himself saying, into her ear. A moment of silence passed between them, the hanging stillness of the room was palpable.
She angled her face into the crook of his neck, as if to hide her embarrassment. "I- I'm sorry."
His deep green eyes searched for hers, but she would not lift her face from his collar bone. He sighed, more out of relief than any form of reprimand he felt bubbling up inside himself. "You have no reason to apologize, onna. I was the one who grew careless."
This didn't seem to ease her hazy mind, and she tilted her face towards the shell of his ear, "P-please..."
He hesitated for a moment, before twisting his hips just so slightly to the right. She quickly inhaled, but as he stilled once more she grew more confident. As he lay atop her, waiting for her to be fully adjusted to him, she shyly rocked against him.
The sheer feeling of her untouched walls clenching around him as she rocked her waist in a forwards and backwards motion, he deduced, would be his undoing. He tried so hard not to thrust up into her, to just pound all his adoration and pain into this fragile girl. No, he would do this her way.
Her panting increased as her shallow rocking motions began to speed up. He groaned into her hair as she grew momentum and started sliding him in and out, causing her to hiss out at the change in feeling. Soon his fingers were digging into her thighs, his other hand caught in her hair as he pressed her mouth desperately to his own.
She was drowning. He was everywhere, all around her, invading her senses and she couldn't get enough. His speed was starting to increase, he was losing all concept of self control and all she could do was feebly buck back at him and moan out her satisfactions.
There was a strange feeling within herself, and it just so happened to be where his length reached into her. She felt like something was coming close, that she was coming close to a completion of some sort. Ulquiorra at this point gripped onto her and flipped them over, all the while never leaving her. She was now on top of him and she bit her lip at the newfound position they were in.
His eyes were clouded, delirious from this new found pleasure. He no longer held any form of common sense, all he knew was that he was with this beautiful red haired girl on top of him and she belonged to him. He would never let her go, would never leave her side or let another take his place. He would never let anyone else see her like this, moaning and biting her lip from the pleasurable pressure deep inside her.
He roughly gripped her hips and began to buck up into her. She was taken by surprise, but quickly slid up and down on top of him. They fell into a sort of dance, this sway of hips and tangle of legs. It was the oldest and most primal of art forms, and both having no idea what they were doing, fell easily into it.
Orihime was now biting across his neck as she'd grown too exhausted to keep her body in an upright position. She was growing more and more delirious as she got closer to this strange sense of completion, and as she pressed her sweaty forehead against his, she noted that he looked close as well. She experimentally clenched around him, and this seemed to be his undoing. He flipped them back over, grasping one of her legs and bringing it around his waist as he became the dominant partner once more. He wanted to go even deeper than he already was, so he lifted her legs even higher up his back.
Suddenly, he hit something deep inside of her and her surroundings faded out. She felt her body convulse as her mind reached a sort of ecstasy she'd never experienced in her life. It was better than bean paste chocolate cookies and scary movie nights with her friends combined, and she was whimpering out her exhaustion, her pure pleasure. The feel of her walls clenching and convulsing around him brought him to an urgent climax as his vision grew spotted and all he could feel was the adoration for this red haired beauty bellow him.
They lay in the aftermath, his arms possessively encircling her as his lips lazily kissed across her pulse point. She looked up at him, realizing all that she felt for him. She had to say something, anything to make him understand. "Ulquiorra... I.."
He lethargically lifted his head and kissed her on her mouth. "We will talk in the morning, for now... just feel."
So she lay there, silently listening to the sound of his breathing and began to feel everything at once.
A/N: I decided to dabble in a little smut. Sue me.
Was originally posted in DeviantArt, decided to post here as well. Reviews are lovely, whether positive or negative.