UPDATE [02/11/2020]: There seemed to be a bug going around on ff. net where broken links were sent out to subscribers of all authors that had uploaded a new chapter. I hope it's fixed now and you guys can access this!
Warning: Sex between two consenting adults, more on the mature side than explicit (I think).
"You should call Abarai," Ichigo said, as he closed the infirmary door behind him. "Let him know you're safe."
Orihime nodded mutely, shrugging off her coat. Once she had draped it across her chair, she began closing all the shutters to her office, checking and re-checking the manual locks that had to be put in place.
Ichigo watched as her hands trembled against the latch's metal. When she struggled with the clasp for the third time, he stepped forward from where he was leaning against her desk. "Relax, I'll take care of it. Go call Abarai."
"Thank you," she murmured, rubbing her eyes as she left him to go find the phone. He watched from his peripheral as she stared at the multiple green lines on her telephone. A lot of people must have tried to get in touch with her while she was gone. She seemed to bite her lip in guilt as she picked up the receiver.
While Orihime dialled the guard's office, Ichigo began dimming down the lights wherever he could find a switch. The possibility of someone breaking into the infirmary was a legitimate fear, considering just how close it was to the Maggot's Nest. If Orihime had encountered Nnoitra tonight, there was no telling what other kind of creeps would come crawling out of the woodwork, looking for trouble.
"I'm alright, Abarai-san," he heard her say softly into the receiver, from somewhere behind him. "N-no, no one tried to hurt me. I found Zaraki-san, though! He was coughing up quite the racket down here like you said, so I did my very best to help him and then returned straight to my office!"
There was something unnatural and forced in her tone, but judging from the way the conversation was going, Ichigo didn't think Abarai had noticed. He wondered why she left out the bit about Nnoitra. Probably not to worry him. Then again, she hadn't mentioned Ichigo either and he wasn't sure which one of them she was trying to protect by hiding it. Knowing how selfless she had been in the time he had known her, however, he had a crawling suspicion of the answer.
"Yes, Abarai-san, I'm sure," she insisted, twirling the cord around her finger. She hummed and ah-ed while she listened to him, before pausing. "Ah. I see." Suddenly, she turned to Ichigo, blushed, and quickly stared at her feet again. "No, that won't be a problem! I'm quite safe here, not to worry! Okay. Alright. Uh-huh. You too, bye-bye."
Ichigo wondered what that was about. He pretended to fiddle with the locks as she set down the receiver. He heard her soft footsteps come up behind him, before she cleared her throat.
"Um, Kurosaki-san," she said softly, staring up at him with a little uncertainty. "Abarai-san just told me they put gen-pop under lockdown, all the four wings."
Ichigo raised his eyebrows, wondering why she was telling him this. "Ah. I see," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, not seeing where she was going with this.
"The lockdown is supposed to help the guards keep a headcount of the people inside the wings so they can herd and look for everyone that managed to get out," she explained in a speedy ramble, her hands going haywire with movement as she talked. "It's a very efficient process, actually! The guards will have a much easier time searching for stragglers outside while handling the safety of the inmates still inside! Whoever came up with this must be quite the genius, huh?"
"Inoue," he interrupted. "What's going on?"
"Well, as you know, I just got off the phone with Abarai-san…"
"Uh-huh."
She blushed, braving to meet his eyes. "He said all prison staff offices are going to be locked for the next six hours so everyone can stay put and be accounted for easily. He was waiting for my signal so he could call a prison-wide lockdown." She took a deep breath. "The, um, reinforcements for the doors just kicked in, and they won't really be lifted until the lockdown is lifted so…"
Ichigo blinked. Then, he processed her words. "So we're stuck here for six hours?" Together? Alone? Alone together?
She nodded. Suddenly, her blushing made a whole lot of sense.
Fuck! He groaned mentally. Being around her during P.I was hard enough, an hour a day with a lot of eyes watching them. He surely wasn't expected to be strong enough to last six hours with no supervision? Hell, the last time they'd been in here, Hanataro had stepped out for two minutes and he'd kissed her.
She must have seen something in his expression, because her face fell. "I'm sorry," she said, bowing her head apologetically. "You don't have to worry about being in trouble; I'll vouch for you to whatever guard comes by at the end of the lockdown."
Like he gave two shits about that. "What are you sorry for?" he said gruffly. "You didn't ask for the power to go out and fuse up the damn generators."
"No," she agreed. Then, her eyes widened at a spot by his forehead. "You're still bleeding! I should take care of that, come on." She dragged him by his wrist, taking him straight to the infirmary before he could protest.
x.x
"So," she said, eyes fixed on the daub of blood seeping out of his forehead. When she leaned closer to clean the wound, he could smell her fruity lip balm. "What do you think we should do until they lift the lockdown?"
Ichigo licked his lips dryly. "You're, uh, healing me," he muttered.
Orihime giggled. "That won't take six hours, silly," she said, shaking her head as she turned to pick up a ball of cotton between her tweezers. When she saw his stoic expression, she schooled her excitement into a small, understanding smile. "Unless you don't want to do anything together. That's okay, too."
"I want to!" he insisted, a little too quickly. When she raised her eyes curiously to meet his, he flushed. "It's just...I don't know. I usually just take a nap when we're in a lockdown."
"Of course," she said, slapping her forehead. "You must be tired. I can set the bed up for you, if you want?"
"No! That wasn't what I meant either," he said quickly, feeling very frustrated with himself for not having an armory of words. He could wax poetic and shit-talk guys during a fight for hours, but he couldn't find a single sentence to summarize this very specific feeling of excitement and guilt-for-feeling-excitement in one breath. He glanced at her and quirked his eyebrow. "Maybe we could just...talk? For a while?"
Talking was safe, right? It wasn't like he'd developed this stupid whatever-this-was over just talking to her whenever they met.
She beamed agreeably, pulling off her gloves. "I'd love to talk to you!" she said earnestly, and his heart gave out. This was not what he'd bargained for when he crawled down the vent to check-in on her. "Can we take turns and ask each other questions?"
Ichigo raised his eyebrows but shrugged. "Sure." They stared at each other for a moment, each waiting on the other. Suddenly, Ichigo's eyes fell to her lips and he just about decided he was done. "You go first," he said weakly, averting his gaze.
"Oh, yay!" She threw her hands up in the air, then leaned forward on his armrest in piqued interest, resting her head between her hands. "What's your favorite bird?"
He snorted. "That's your first question?"
"It's an ice-breaker," she said, frowning at his amused grin. "You're supposed to go in with the easy questions first so the other person doesn't think you're a weirdo."
"I don't care what other people think," he pointed out.
She laughed. "No, you really don't, Kurosaki-san. But do you have a favorite bird?"
He thought for a moment, a small frown on his face. "Eagle, I'd say," he answered, with nonchalance. "What's yours?"
Orihime scrunched her nose cutely and brought her arms to her side, like she was a teapot. "Emperor penguin," she replied proudly, nearly hitting him when she brandished her arms. "They're the tallest and heaviest among all the penguin species in the Arctic."
Ichigo shifted in his bed to face her better. "Why do you know that, Inoue?"
"Well, I didn't have a lot of friends in college and my brother worked really late so I watched a lot of nature documentaries in my apartment when I couldn't sleep," she answered honestly, crossing her arms. She gave him a sheepish grin. "That's kind of lame, isn't it?"
Ichigo shook his head. "I didn't have a lot of friends in college, either."
She seemed surprised by this. "How come?"
He gave out a short laugh. "I'm not exactly the kind of guy people would like to go out with on a Friday night, Inoue."
"I'd love to go out with Kurosaki-san on a Friday night," she defended, even though her cheeks felt infused with heat at the admission. She stared at her lap. "We'd go to the donut shop and get one of each and then go see the latest Godzilla movie!"
"That's...a lot of donuts," he relented, feeling his stomach squirm tightly at her words. He stared at his hands, not liking the floodlight of visions that entered his brain. How easy it was to picture it, him and her together somewhere, having a nice time. He'd pay for everything, of course. Listen to her ramble about her top ten favorite monsters, ranked. He'd tease her about it, just to see her get defensive and flustered in the way he liked, where her ears would turn pink but her gaze would hold his determinedly, hard-pressed on giving her opinion but willing to keep an open mind when listening to his.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm not making things any easier, am I?"
He looked up at her, feeling fresh pain in his chest at the way the shine in her eyes dimmed. It would have been easier if she didn't have it bad for him like he did for her. If she just treated him like she would any patient. But the point here was that she had kissed him back and that was a line drawn in the sand that neither of them knew how to crawl out of very gracefully.
Ichigo shook his head, fiddled with a stray thread in the sheets. "Doesn't matter," he murmured, not liking how glum his voice sounded. "I doubt you'd be interested in a guy like me outside these walls anyway, Inoue. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that."
That was the only way this thing between them made sense, anyway; she was a doctor in prison, spent a lot of hours here. He reckoned any ordinary rock might seem shiny enough if you spent enough time with it.
The sudden feel of her palm against his cheek made him recoil in surprise. She tugged lightly, making him face her. Underneath the latticework of moonlight, the tears in her eyes seemed shiny.
"Don't say that, please," she whispered. "Not when I'm sitting in front of you like a teenager with hamsters running circles in my belly because I like you so much it hurts."
They stared at each other for a moment, the intensity of the air heavy between them. Her touch was light, a ghost of a brush packed with tenderness he hadn't felt in such a long time.
"I-I do, too." Ichigo sighed, overlapped her hand with his for a brief moment before dragging it down. "But you deserve better, Inoue," he said, feeling honesty surging through his words. "You deserve a guy who can take you out someplace nice every now and then, buy you the shit you like. Uh," he cleared his scratchy throat. "Settle down with you in a nice, big house in the city." He squeezed her hand, before pointedly letting go. "I can't...be that guy for you. Not with where we are right now."
Even if I wanted to, he thought, but didn't say.
"Is that what you think I want?" Orihime asked quietly, staring at him in disbelief.
"It's what I think you deserve," he emphasized, avoiding her tearful gaze.
It wasn't very fair to his heart, either. He could punish himself, play a repeat of every single moment his life had gone down the drain and lead up to this very moment, but he couldn't give himself this and push it away. This was the final blow, this little moment of peace within his buzzing head. It would break him, and he'd rather be half-starved in her presence than utterly rendered to a shell of a man in her wake.
She said nothing, even as he continued to pointedly look away from her. Then, she stood up with a sigh and left.
He thought that was it, that they wouldn't speak anymore, but to his surprise she returned with pain-relief cream a few moments later.
"For your forehead," she explained, softly, lathering up her finger with the whitish-gray ointment. He let her cup his face, rub it in gently in soothing, circular motions. Even over the bliss of his massage, however, he could hear the tiny sniffs that she was holding in.
He didn't say anything, just let her finish up and bustle around the office. She rattled the curtains around Ukitake once, made sure he was alright, then circled back to the bed where Ichigo was lying down.
Through the window, he could still hear the storm going steady, drowning out the sounds from the prison. With the excess of rain, the smell of sea salt had gotten nearly overpowering. A flash of lightning streaked across the horizon, making her flinch.
It had been a difficult night. More so for her, it occurred to him.
"Come here," he said, holding out his arm beside him on the small bed. He swallowed down any hesitation, focused on simply finding a way to comfort her. Give her what she needed until she could fall asleep and feel safe again.
She stared for a moment, and he wondered if this was the beginning of the end. There was no way something this pure could last without some punishment waiting for him around the corner. That was how these things worked. But when he looked at her, he hoped for once that his ill-fate would skip him.
"I – okay," she whispered hesitantly, before gingerly clambering onto the bed beside him. There wasn't a whole lot of space, so their knees bumped and they shifted repeatedly over the mattress until they could find an angle that worked. She sighed, settling her head on his extended arm. "This feels very selfish."
He chortled, gently stroking her hair with the palm that cradled her head. He stared up at the ceiling. "Tell me about it."
She brought both hands underneath her chin, using his arm as a holding to prop herself up and look at him. "I was really scared tonight," she admitted with a small smile. "Thank you for saving me."
He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me," he dismissed, craning his head to look at her. "Not for something like that."
She laughed, a little sadly. "You have very high standards for me."
He snorted, continuing his idle motions through her soft hair. "Of course I do, Inoue," he said, quiet as a whisper. "It's you."
Orihime propped herself up suddenly, eyes burning at him with a fervent adoration that fixed him in place. "I lived in a box-sized apartment for most of my life and the most expensive thing I own is a second-hand car that I have to hotwire every time it refuses to start," she blurted, brushing her hair aside to look down and see if he was listening. He was.
"I've had my ups and downs and there were times when I was really sad, but the things that made me happy were the little things. A nice loaf of bread after a tough day at work, watching Laugh Hour, talking to Tatsuki...being with you. I don't want anything else, Kurosaki-san."
Ichigo felt a pool of warmth bloom in his belly. Really, there was only so much earnest admission a guy could take before he made it past the breaking point. And if he was being honest with himself, he'd crossed that point a long time ago. He leaned up at the same time she bent down and the last, fleeting thought in his brain said: fuck it.
She tugged him eagerly by the shirt, her enthusiasm taking him by surprise when their mouths knocked hard into each other.
"Sorry," he mumbled into her mouth, ignoring the dull pain against his teeth.
"Mm," she responded, as they began to tilt their heads to accommodate each other. The kiss turned gentler after that, more deliberate. Once she could figure out the rhythm they were going for, she opened her mouth to him and sighed happily when his hands fisted her hair behind her head. She gently nipped his bottom lip with her teeth, enjoying the hum of his soft whimper against her mouth.
"Felt good," Ichigo admitted in a sheepish whisper, pulling back to look at her.
Orihime smiled, pretty and bright despite the candy-pinkness of her cheeks. She smoothed down the crinkles of his shirt, one hand trailing up his neck and massaging his ear with her thumb. She turned to the window pensively. When she turned back to him, he was sure his wishful thinking had convinced him into believing there was hope in her eyes.
"It doesn't look like the storm is going to let up any time soon," she said idly, watching his eyes close with a contended sigh when her hand released him.
"No," he agreed, feeling his own voice turn gravelly with anticipation.
He reached forward and gently grabbed her waist, bounced her a little when he pulled her into his lap. He looked up at her, feeling his throat tighten. "Is this okay?"
She bit her lip. "I don't know, I might be a little heavy," she murmured, her concern for him overriding the pleasant shiver along her thigh at the feel of him.
He squeezed her hip lightly, ignoring the dull ache that rolled when her leg pressed his bruise. "I meant this," he gestured his chin at where their hips were joined. When he looked back up at her for confirmation, his cheeks were dark. "I don't want to do anything you might regret."
She pecked the corner of his mouth, then the top, then the opposite corner, working up the courage to ask for what she wanted. He let her, hands stalled patiently.
.
"Yes," she confirmed a moment later, blushing at the fact.
He nodded, letting the hand that was on her hip continue its trail under her shirt and up her spine, the other coming around her waist to hold her steady. He snaked one thumb over-and-under the rough fabric of her waistband, stroking her puffed stretch marks, the cushy curve of her belly.
"Oh," she hummed, when his thumb seemed to graze a particular sweet spot on her lower back. He went over it again, except this time, he flattened his entire palm on her soft skin and gently pushed her.
Orihime must not have been anticipating it, because she landed clumsily on his chest with an 'oof!'. When she raised her head to look at him, she giggled softly. "Sorry."
Ichigo smiled, then tugged her back for a kiss. He curved one hand around her neck, holding her there while his lips tried their brush hers smoothly. It was hard, considering just how much he wanted her, but he let the passion build slowly, enjoying the way her mouth came down on his, tongue flicking his lightly. He let his fingertips skim up her waist, her ribs, the sides of her breasts, loving the way her muscles shifted to his touch. Eventually, his travelling hand found hers and he pulled it to touch his face.
"You're so pretty," she praised, cupping his cheek fondly. His chest hitched, the sheer purity in her gaze enough to overwhelm the wrongness of this moment.
He shook his head, the throb in his heart pushing him to spread firm kisses over her neck and collarbone while he massaged her all over with his large hands. He knew he wasn't particularly skilful with his hands – nor experienced greatly with sex – but he wanted her to feel good. Pleasured.
So he flipped her on her back and went down on her.
"Kurosaki-san," she gasped, hand wildly reaching out to grab his head. He didn't know if she was liking this very much or not, but her firm grip and her soft, shy moans were encouraging. He pressed his tongue flat against her, hoping this rhythm he was trying to build was yielding its intended effect.
"Ichigo."
He grinned, feeling his confidence build. He spread her legs apart even more, consciously making an effort not to tease her about the kitten-print panties that he fully dragged down her legs. This was supposed to be tender, not playful. This was about her.
He gripped her thigh as gently as he could, ready to delve deeper when she stopped him.
"I'm almost there," she whispered, face sweaty and flushed.
He raised his eyebrows as if to say 'that's the point.' He suddenly registered how hard he was with vague embarrassment. It had never been this easy before, but it had never been with her either so he supposed that might have a thing or two to do with how heated he felt.
Orihime propped herself up on her elbows, one hand trying to push his damp chin up higher. "Can we...together?" she asked, shrinking under his surprised gaze.
His heart gave out an odd stutter, not wanting her to feel obligated in any way to give herself to him. When he looked into her eyes, however – at how sweetly dazed they were – he knew he could never deny her. "You sure?" he asked, nonetheless, pressing a kiss to her thigh. "I don't mind if you finish."
"I want to finish with you," she confessed shyly, pulling him up to her level. "You're not even out of your pants yet."
Well, he couldn't exactly disagree.
She released him, letting him stand so he could shuck his clothes off. He fumbled with his shirt, watching her do the same out of the corner of his eyes. She lifted it over her head, tossing it in the heap of her other clothes by the floor. One hand reached into the bedside drawer, eyes twinkling with mirth as she withdrew a shiny, foiled packet.
Ichigo scoffed, averting his gaze respectfully when she arched forward to tug her bra off – like that was supposed to soften how fiercely right he felt despite how wrong this was.
He heard the cloth fall over somewhere. When he came over to brush her cheek with his finger, her hand went to his waistband. She lifted her gaze to meet his. "May I?"
He would have laughed at how polite Orihime was if he wasn't feeling a little insecure over how beautiful she looked, how being with her felt like a heaven that he didn't deserve. He was quickly snapped out of it by a gentle kiss she pressed to his hip bone, her fingers skimming up his abdomen and his chest. When her eyes met his, there was something bright and loving there that knocked the wind out of him. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, before completely taking off his pants and getting on top of her.
"It's not too late to want to stop," he reminded her, his forehead knocking hers as they stared at each other.
"Don't," she whispered back, her breaths coming out in quick puffs as she held his head to her shoulder, rolled her eyes back to aimlessly look at the ceiling when his hips came down to hers.
And really, Ichigo could close his eyes and pretend they were somewhere decent, somewhere romantic like a fancy hotel or a cruise or even a half-decent bed, but he didn't want to. Here with Orihime, skin-pressing-skin everywhere, he wanted this reality to burn him. The smell of brine, the scratchy linen below their sweaty bodies, this, her – all of it. He wanted the memory preserved and etched right into his bones, not a single detail obscured.
As he felt his muscles ache and burn, a lone tear trailed down his watery eyes. "Orihime," he pleaded, almost unrecognizable to himself, unsure of what he was asking for.
Orihime clutched the back of his neck, pulled his ear closer to her trembling mouth. "I love you," she cried out in a broken sob.
Ichigo's heart stopped.
He felt himself coming instantly.
Boy this was a chapter. Someone please pat me on the head and say I didn't do a terrible job.