They'd settled alone in their rooms together, Orihime feeling like a live wire while Ulquiorra stared her down without any emotion prevalent in his face. She felt closed in and caught off guard. She'd been subtle, hadn't she?
Oh god she really hadn't been. No one else would think twice about her stupid, stupid comments but Ulquiorra? The same man who had looked at her for point two seconds and decided the girl everyone else had written off as a healer was actually something far more powerful? Of course he'd know. Of course.
She'd fairly dragged him away after he'd asked about the dome, feeling like she was going to throw up the entire time. She just had to keep it together. If it came down to it, she'd just erase his memory like she did to Tousen, easy peasy. Did the thought make her squirm? Yes. Did she know she could do it?
… Probably.
"You can no longer play innocent," Ulquiorra said. He was seated neatly on the edge of the couch, staring her down as she sat nervously at their little table. "I have seen the fear in your eyes. I understand it for what it truly is."
"I wasn't going to try to play dumb," she muttered. "So what do you even want to know? What I'm afraid of? Why? So you can report back to Aizen and tell him what scares me so that he can control me?" Then a sickening thought struck her. What if Ulquiorra had already told Aizen?
"Lord Aizen is unaware of this development for the time being," Ulquiorra said, as though sensing her thoughts. "I do not intend to scare you, as Lord Aizen already controls you with his methods."
Well, he wasn't completely wrong. "So then why?"
"I wish to know."
That curiosity again. It had been endearing, at first; the most human part of him. Now it rankled. Of course he would be curious about what scared her. He was still trying to figure out the mystery of the human heart, and its fears were a part he could nearly understand.
"You're sure you want to know what happens?"
"I assume that you have come back to win your own agenda. You lost, the first time." He paused. "Or second. How many timelines have you created and shattered, now, Orihime?"
Wonderful time to start using her name. "I didn't do anything like that," she snapped.
"Then why come back?"
"I didn't do it on purpose."
"How does one accidentally re-alter reality?"
"You wouldn't understand. It's a matter of the heart. I wanted something badly… and it happened." She swallowed, looking down at her lap. "Look, Ulquiorra, I know you're probably going to tell Aizen right away about all this. But you should know. Aizen lost. And the reason I don't like the dome? It's because that's where you died."
"Hmm."
She waited for his real reaction, once he had finished processing what she said. But it never came. He just watched her, as if waiting for something more. She felt her heart break. "Doesn't that bother you? Dead. You died! Not just lost. You got, got, turned into a cloud of ash, Ulquiorra. Dead-dead. Never, ever, ever, ever coming back!" She stood and began to pace, hands moving as she talked. "Don't you care? You're on a path to die for a man who won't even win the war and all you can do is look at me! Say something!"
"And what would you have me say?"
She whirled on him. "Anything! Doesn't it bother you?"
He tilted his head at her. "...I do not understand."
"What?" She sank down in front of him, so that she could see up into his eyes. "What don't you understand? How you die? How he loses?"
"Why would I be bothered?"
"By your own death?" She shook her head. "Ulquiorra, don't you… don't you want to be alive?"
"I am not immortal," he said. "While I do not see the use in dying, I do not expect to live forever. Why would the thought of an inevitability bring me any concern? It is futile."
"No, not… not like that… It's soon, Ulquiorra." She swallowed hard. "You die soon."
He stared at her still, unconcerned as ever.
She felt like crying. "Aren't there things you want to do? Things you need to experience, before…?" She licked her lips. "Don't you have anything to live for?" Helplessly, she slipped up onto the couch besides him and sat with her head bowed.
"You understand I hold no real affection for you," he said.
She faced him.
He was cold, serious. "I was instructed to bend you to my will. To lead you to my side. Your physical preference for me is unexpected, but it is an easy avenue to manipulate you through. Do you expect me to live for you? For your desire?"
She shook her head slowly, lost. "Ulquiorra… how could you think that of me?"
Ulquiorra just stared at her.
"I don't. People don't." She shook her head again. "We don't work that way. I kiss you because I like to. That's all. Do you really think I'm trying to sway you to my side of things? I knew the moment I came here that you couldn't be manipulated. You're smarter than me when it comes to things like that, okay? And I did come here to fix things. Because I don't want everyone to die! I don't… you have so much more to live for and you don't even know it. I wanted you to live. To be able to figure out what you want in life. To have… a purpose, or, or, or something! Anything! You don't deserve this! None of you do!"
For a moment he simply stared at her.
"It is easy," he said, "To tell when you're lying."
She felt her shoulders sag. "Ulquiorra…"
He stood. "You are not doing it now."
She watched his back as he walked away from her.
"I will not tell Lord Aizen. Your purpose to keep the arrancar alive will only aid us. We have been looking for ways to manipulate you into truly joining our side, but you have been here in your own way all along. To attempt to stand in your way would only counter the mission Lord Aizen has granted me."
"So… what are you going to do?"
"Watch you," he said. "Test you. The boundaries of your powers have yet to be defined. This, at the very least, Aizen is aware of already."
"I don't know if I should thank you but. Thank you, Ulquiorra."
"Do not thank me," he said. "You have a great deal of misery in store. And in the end, it may be you who dies after all."
"If I could only be so lucky," she muttered.
He did look at her, then. "Do you not have your own purpose?"
"I do," she said. "But it's only as good as yours. I don't know what I'm going to live for when this is all over." She gave him a chagrin smirk of sorts. "But hey. You put so much stock in our kissing. Maybe I'll just keep hanging on for that."
He lifted a brow. He took a quick few steps and leaned down, inspecting her at an uncomfortable distance. Then he leaned in and kissed her, quickly. "You make yourself easy to manipulate, even now that I've told you that is what I am doing. What a strange creature you are."
"And you continue to let me make you feel things," she countered. She kissed his cheek. "I wonder which one of us is stranger."
He left, then, and Orihime was alone to contemplate what sort of mess she'd gotten herself into now.
~(o0o)~
So the plan was a little different than before.
Where once there had been the simplicity of "defeat aizen, save Ulquiorra," there was now a mess of thoughts and plots in her head. What was worse, she couldn't right anything down, because someone was always watching her. The best she could do was scribble in the sand outside when she went out with Grimmjow, who she suspected might not have been able to read to begin with.
Or, rather, didn't care to.
She was still watching and waiting, buying her time. But time was running out exceptionally rapidly. She had yet to find Aizen's hogyoku. Moreover, she wasn't sure how she was going to slip Ulquiorra's guard to attack Aizen with Gin when the time came. It wasn't like she and Gin could get together to talk about it. And then there was the whole thing with her friends maybe sort of thinking she'd really joined Aizen because, what, she and Ulquiorra were star crossed lovers? Hard to tell. She'd been shifty around them since she'd come back, and was sad to think that there was a chance they were buying into Ulquiorra's ploy because of that. So she had that to deal with. And then… ending the war, she guessed, as soon as Aizen was dead. She was pretty sure the Arancar would back out once their leader was dead. Shit, there was Tousen to think of. He wouldn't call it quits. She didn't want to kill him, knowing that the points he had against Soul Society were valid and real. It was a sticky situation and she knew if she left it up to anyone else he'd probably be killed.
Just how many people could she save? She'd come back determined to let everybody live, but the longer she was there in the past… present… whatever. The longer she hung around the more she was beginning to realize how terribly difficult keeping everyone alive was going to be. Hell, even just stopping Ulquiorra from getting himself killed was looking harder and harder by the second.
After everything, when she'd settled down with Ichigo, she'd come to resent Kisuke for his playing god. Now, she sort of understood. He'd always said there would have to be sacrifices, and she'd rebelled against that with all her spirit. Now, though, she was facing the impossible. Sacrifices were the easier route, by far.
"You seem distracted."
Orihime looked up across the table, where Tia was sipping at her tea patiently. It was an odd ritual; the mask just barely cracked open along the seam of the teeth, and she filtered the hot liquid through the bone with as much dignity as the operation allowed. Orihime set her own cup down in the saucer, realizing she'd been holding it up without drinking it for some time.
"Sorry," she said. "Though I guess that's me for you. I'm known for daydreaming."
"Daydreaming?"
"Mmm. Making up scenarios and stories in my head. Flights to Mars, fights against heavyweight champions, robots… you know." She shrugged, delicately.
"I do not," Tia said, but she didn't ask after it any further. "Is the tea not to your liking?"
Orihime raised it to her lips and took a sip of the hibiscus flavoring. "It's lovely," she said, smiling. "Thank you."
Tia nodded, looking back out the window and to the sands.
It had become somewhat of a daily ritual for them over the week. Afternoon tea talk, free of anyone else. Tia was introspective and quiet, but had much to say. It seemed almost as if she had been waiting for someone with the presence to listen. Orihime could do that, if nothing else.
"I worry for them."
Orihime caught what Tia was looking at—her fraccion, training in the dunes.
"They know no favor from the other fracion. Or Aizen. When the war comes, they will fight as though they are alone."
Orihime tried to think back to what had happened to the girls and was sad to realize she wasn't sure. "Do the other fraccion have ties amongst each other?"
"Some. Some of the other espada have agreements between each other. Little things, not real alliances. We're all too stubborn for that. It's enough to bow to a shinigami of all things." The word left her mouth like a curse. "But he says he'll bring us freedom. Prosperity. Power."
"I think you already have power," Orihime said.
"And he could take it away." She put down her cup. "He will take it, the second we fail to be useful to him."
That was true, especially for Tia. She recalled that Aizen had cut her down himself, and for what?
"But he is a good leader. Strong. He'll get us what we want."
"Aizen doesn't deserve your loyalty," Orihime said quietly. "He has none for you."
"We don't need loyalty from him," she said. "That what we have each other for."
Orihime looked back out at the dunes. A giant creature with antlers and fur roamed the sands. "Will it be worth it in the end? You might loose a lot getting what you want."
"It's not about want. It's about need. We are mercilessly slaughtered by the shinigami. Our settlements destroyed, our people taken. Even here, in Hueco Mundo, where the only ones we hunt are each other."
Orihime couldn't argue that. She had seen the failings of Soul Society a million times over and she had never forgiven them for that. She didn't believe in them any more than she did Los Noches.
"When the time comes, will you kill me?"
Orihime turned, startled. "Wh—what?"
"We're on opposite sides. You pretend now, but I know where your true loyalties lie. So when the time comes. Will you turn on me, too?"
Orihime was stunned by the swell of compassion, of friendship, that she felt for this woman. Without thinking, she reached out and clasped Tia's hand, holding it tightly. She looked the woman in the eye. "We may be on opposite sides," she said. "But we're friends. And I won't ever turn my back on you."
Too deep a promise for a woman she hardly knew, but she could not help but understand and sympathize with Tia. Just wanting what was best for the ones you loved, even if it meant hurting others. Hurting yourself. She saw herself in the third espada with ease.
Tia seemed taken aback by the declaration, eyes wide.
"Depend on me," Orihime said.
She would have gone on, but Ulquiorra chose then to show up and collect her. He pushed the door open soundlessly, entering the room. "Come," he said, simply.
Orihime stood and bowed before taking her leave.
"Orihime."
She paused at the door.
Tia stood behind the table. "Depend on me, then, too."
She felt heat in her chest and nodded. "Okay," she said, and followed out after Ulquiorra.
For a time they walked in near silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the high-ceilings of the halls. Orihime could tell there was something on Ulquiorra's mind, but didn't feel the need to weed it out of him. He would come with it in his own time.
She realized soon, however, that they were heading steadily upwards through the palace. Certainly they were not heading to the dome…?
He must have sensed her hesitation. Stopping on a stairwell above her, he turned, hands in his pockets. "Your apprehension is a weakness," he said. "I do not tolerate weakness in my fracion."
She swallowed heavily. Exposure therapy with Ulquiorra, sure, why not. She slipped back up to his side, walking in stride. In her heeled boots she was just as tall as him, perhaps a few scant centimeters different. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
Doesn't it bother you?
She shook the thought off. If he wanted to train on the dome, she'd show him that nothing could distract her from the heat of battle. She did worry about her own reactions to him, though. She didn't want to hurt him. Not really.
"How did I die?"
The question startled her. She stood below the exit, watching him against the black sky. His hair blew in the wind.
"You ah." She swallowed. "Incinerated. By a cero blast."
He raised a brow. "I do not know of any hollow with a cero powerful enough to kill me."
"Well. He doesn't exist yet. Not really." She fidgeted awkwardly with her hands before stepping out onto the dome. The entrance slammed closed behind her. Facing Ulquiorra, she said, "I ah… Never did thank you. Back then. I mean. In the future?" She shook her head. "Time travel is confusing."
"For what would you thank me?"
She swallowed. "… for saving my life."
He looked sharply away from her. "Ridiculous," he decided, and walked away.
She followed after him. "Did you want to come up here to train?"
"Yes," he said. "However, there are slightly more pressing matters at hand."
She paused. "Are… have my friends come?"
"No," he said. "But our spies have found that a wave of shinigami intends to launch an initial attack against us within the week. You're not ready."
"To kill the people I love? I never will be."
"No," he said. "To defend yourself. You think they will spare you because you helped drive out Aizen? Ridiculous. To them, you are now the enemy. If you will not kill them, you must be prepared to defend your life. They will kill you otherwise."
The thought had crossed her mind. "My sparring with you may not be victorious, but I don't think you realize how, ah, prepared I am."
He paused and turned to face her, finally. "You have lived through this war before." He recalled. "Tell me, woman, did you face against their side, then?"
"No," she said. "I was a hostage last time."
"Hmm." He drew his sword, regarding its blade in the moonlight. "You will have no such title protecting you this time. From them, or from us. Aizen will kill you at the first sign of betrayal. And I don't believe your so-called friends will think you capable of sparing them."
"You'd be surprised," she muttered. Ichigo had spared almost every hollow he'd come against, after all. "I know why I'm here, Ulquiorra. But I know that Aizen won't be able to find the second Hogyoku. And I won't become one for him."
"You intend to take Aizen's hogyoku," he said. I wasn't a question.
"By now I know it must be very weak, from creating so many arrancar."
"I would not pretend to know." He held his sword out. "Defend yourself."
She shed her cloak and shoulderpads and raised her hands before her. A small sheild formed between her arms, ready to move with her at the attack.
It was sudden. Ulquiorra was always quick, but there was something now about this attack that startled her. She snapped into motion, blocking his attack when it was a hair's width from her arm. She realized this fight would be close quarters and moved to make gauntlets out of her shields. Not as powerful as her usual rectangle, but more easy to defend with.
They clashed, back and forth. Instantly, sweat began to pour down the back of her neck. Strands of hair began to slip free of her crown and bun, sticking to her face. She kicked out at Ulquiorra as he swung down behind her, catching him hard in the gut before he could touch her. He leapt back, unfazed, and waited for her attack.
"Tsubaki," she commanded. "Shun-o."
Shun-o created the sword from shielding, and tsubaki raced along the edge, creating a living blade. She countered Ulquiorra, parried, thrust. She'd shown him this form before, but it never failed to make him narrow his eyes for a fraction of a second. Concentrating.
He was as fast as he was deadly, and Orihime felt herself fall into the easy rhythm of battle. They played it clean; a fight between equals. She felt as though this was the last time. The end of an era. Soon, they would be under attack, and training time would be replaced by true battle. Orihime wanted to call a halt to everything, stop the war with some grand gesture, but was past such delusions. Maybe her younger self would have thought it possible; a great sacrifice to stop it all, but she knew better now.
What a terrible death to optimism aging was.
Training had been doing her some good. They fought hard and fast but with a deft twist of her wrist and an uppercut with a shielded fist, and she had him down in the dirt, straddled, her blade pointed at his throat.
Panting, she pushed the hair out of her face. "I win," she said softly.
The look in his face was everything.
It was not a conscious choice. She dropped her shields and reclaimed her fairies, and suddenly was upon him, mouth hard and insistent. His hands pulled her hair from its confines, tugging hard at the back of her neck. She moaned, cupping his face with her gloved hands, feeling the heat of him even through the material between them.
He bit at her lips, licking into her mouth. A hand settled heavily on her back, crushing her down onto him. Her legs twined with his. It felt, much like the spar, like the last time. She would make everything of it that she could.
Electricity sang through her as me sucked at her bottom lip. She drew back, feeling like crying, and hid her face in his throat, kissing and sucking and biting as his breath began to speed up. His nails pulled down her back, making her shudder. He held her jaw to keep her still and returned her mouth to his, desperate for it.
And a startling thought ran through her, shocking her to her very core.
I love you .
The realization was enough to make her nauseous, but she pushed it quickly to the side and focussed on the sensation of him running his mouth down the curve of her jaw, teeth scraping her skin. Heat pooled in her stomach, electric and fluttering like a heartbeat all its own. She felt shaky with it, felt too alive, like she was made of energy in its purest, most explosive form. She rolled her hips against him and felt his erection press against her. She groaned.
She drew back to look at him. His pupils were blown.
"Can we go to our room?" She panted. As much as she would have liked to grind in the sand like a couple of desperate teens, she'd rather they weren't interrupted.
He knew there was more to it. "What do you ask of me?"
Everything , she wanted to say. She kissed him again, and hoped it was enough.
If anyone asked her about the walk back to her room later, she would be unable to tell them anything about it. It was a blur lost to the heat of the moment. She remembered how loud the locking of the door was. How cold the bedroom propper was. But the journey? Nothing.
She pushed his coat off and wrapped her arms around him. His hands were heavy on her hips, and he bit at her lips hungrily.
She curled her fingers in the waistband of his hakama.
He stilled.
"Can I?" She breathed.
"For what reason?"
She huffed out a small laugh against his neck, feeling unbound and shaky with want. "Wanna fuck you."
He pulled back from her. "Hollow coupling is violent. I do not intend–"
"I'm not a hollow." She smiled, bitterly. "Not yet."
He tilted his head.
"I'll start slow," she said. "And you can tell me when to stop. I'll show you what, ah. Human 'coupling' can be. Hmm?" She tugged again at his pants. "Unless you want to stop now. I'm happy to kiss you, Ulquiorra."
He seemed to think about it for a second. Finally, "Show me."
Heat bloomed in her sex. She eagerly dropped to her knees, pulling his pants down as she went. She guided him back to the bed with a hand on his knee, not yet trusting herself to look at him. She pulled the hakama off completely and then divested him of his boots, fingers trembling. She cursed, her gloves getting in the way, and quickly stripped them off. Her heart raced in her chest. She wouldn't stop if it meant the end of the world.
Finally, she let herself look. He was hard, erection curled against the pale of his stomach. Glistening at the head, and unnaturally colored. Flushed almost purple, black, like bruising; like his nails and upper lip. Another stark reminder that he wasn't human.
He eyed her warily, but the size of his pupils betrayed his excitement.
"I won't hurt you," she told him, as if he would ever fear her.
He made a noise close to a scoff, but said nothing more.
She grasped him gently. "Remember. We can stop whenever you want."
He said nothing. She opened her mouth and took him between her lips.
There was a sort of simple pleasure in giving oral. She had been an utter wreck at it when she was younger, and had even caused Ichigo to go completely limp a few memorably embarrassing times, but had applied herself to learning the craft as eagerly as any other.
Above her, Ulquiorra gasped and then groaned, head falling back. He reached out and grabbed her hair, almost as if to pull her off, and then left his hand there, seemingly holding on for the sake of it. She looked up at him from under her lashes. He was unexpectedly beautiful like this.
She liked the weight of his cock on her tongue. She applied suction and moved her head, up and down, laving at him with her tongue. When she had a good feeling for the rhythm and motion of it, she tried to swallow around him, choking slightly before remembering how it was done. The noise it drew out of him was unlike any other she'd ever heard, and she found herself rocking into nothing in response. She could feel how wet she was, dampening her underwear.
When it became too hard to breathe, she pulled off, pumping him with a spit-slicked hand, and then when she had her breath again, bowed back down over his dick, sucking him off. She could have given him head for the rest of time. Her knees ached from sitting up on them at an awkward angle, and soon enough her jaw began to hurt from holding it open unnaturally wide. She drew off again, wiping the drool dripping from her chin on the back of her arm.
He'd fallen back against the bed, limp, and looked up at her to see why she'd stopped. His erection bobbed as she let it go, watching as it fell back against his stomach. She stood, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.
She stripped.
Initially, she'd meant to go quickly, practically, but she saw the way his eyes tracked her and slowed her actions, pulling down the front of her dress slowly to reveal the swell of her breasts. She cupped them for a moment before letting them fall, stepping out of her dress and forward. Her underwear came next. She bent to pull them down, noting how a string of wetness connected her sex to her underwear, drawing and breaking as she pulled them down.
She stepped up onto the bed, straddling him, and moved to work herself open with deft fingers. He sat up on his elbow to watch her, eyes hungry and tracking. She reached out with her free hand to pump him lazily, but he moved suddenly, pushing her hand off of him and then grabbing the wrist of the hand she was using to pleasure herself. He drew that away, too.
Before she could ask, he was pushing her with a hand on her hip, forcing her off of him and onto the bed, where he guided her to lay back. He assumed the position she'd been keeping at the end of the bed, his knees on the floor.
He grabbed her legs and dragged her down towards him, parting her legs as though he'd done it a thousand times before. She gasped as he opened his mouth and began after her cunt. He was unpracticed, but dedicated, his tongue sweeping against her as he watched her, eyes dark and calculating. She let her head fall back on the bed, throwing her arm up over her eyes as she panted.
She could feel sweat gathering at the backs of her knees as he threw her legs up over his shoulders, holding them there. His tongue parted her folds and laved at her wetness, nose nudging up against her clit. She let out a cry muffled by the flesh of her arm.
His hand left her right leg. Suddenly, he was standing, leaning over her, and his fingers were nuding her entrance. She clenched around him, groaning with the feeling. It had been so long.
He pressed to fingers into her and brought a sex-shined mouth to hers. She kissed her taste from his mouth, face hot and slack. She spread herself generously for him, reaching down to rub at her clit when the drag of his fingers became too much.
"I'm ready," she told him. More than; she was throbbing with need, weeping onto the sheets. "Want me to ride you?"
It was clear he didn't know what she meant by the blank expression on his face.
"Lay down," she commanded, and he did.
She swung a leg up over his hip, straddling him. He was still hard despite her having not paid attention to him in the last few minutes. She drug a hand through her wetness and wrapped it around him, slickening his cock and lining him up. Slowly, she sunk down onto him, head bowed at the sensation. The stretch was delicious, burning, perfect, wonderful. She felt her arousal in her very bones, like she was made of it and it alone.
When she'd seated herself upon the jutt of his hips, hands flat against his ribs, she let out a long breath. Her eyes met his. He looked like he'd been stunned, punched out and breathless. She leaned forward and he anticipated her, leaning up to messily kiss her.
And again came the thought. I love you, I love you, I love you . But she kept it locked back, only saying, "You feel so good."
"You're warm," he managed, like such a simple fact as a miracle. She felt her heart flutter.
She began to move, then. Just rocking her hips, at first, letting him get used to the feeling of it. She trailed a hand down his stomach, reached up and put a hand over his tattoo. As if she could cover it up completely and make her his.
His breaths began to come out in startled gasp. She rose up, then, using her legs and knees, and started to ride him earnest. His hands scrambled to find purchase at her hips, holding her and steadying her as she dropped down and moved back up. He groaned deep in the back of his throat, sounding almost animalistic. His nails dug into her flesh; not enough to hurt, per se, but exciting nonetheless.
She knew neither of them would last long. He thrust his hips up to meet her, quickly, hard, breath coming quick and strained. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks like the dark wings of hellbutterlfies, eyes opening and closing as though he couldn't decide if he could look at her or not.
His hand pushed against her sex, and he searched out her clit, mimicking what he'd seen her do to herself. The pleasure of his fingers was very nearly too hard, but just shy of that point. He began to buck against her ruthlessly, and she knew he was close. She was not far behind, with his fingers clever and insistent against her, overly sensitive from lacking stimulation of this kind for so long.
He gasped, head thrown back, and then stilled. Warmth spilled inside her as he moaned, sounding almost like he was surprised. His fingers did not falter, though, and she rode him through his orgasm and right into her own.
She shuddered above him, clenching down hard as the pleasure spiked through her like a lightning strike. She bowed in half, facing his sternum as she tried to catch her breath, legs shaky and burning from the unfamiliar movement. She fell off of him inelegantly, wide-eyed and blindsided by the strength of her orgasm.
For a moment, they lay there, trying to catch their breath.
Orihime felt him shift next to her and closed her eyes. This was the part where he left, then.
But he leaned over, a hand on her side. "I would do this again."
She let out a startled laugh. "Okay. Yeah. That would… be nice." She pulled him down, so that his head was resting on her shoulder. "WIll you just… lay here for a moment? With me? I… need it."
She thought he would refuse her. But he didn't. He went, willingly, laying against her like he intended to collect her heat through touch as he pressed his entire body flush to hers. That same fluttering sensation settled in her stomach, and she shut her eyes hard, determined not to cry.
The war would begin soon. But then, there, in their bedroom, there was nothing else, just the cooling of sweat, and soft sheets, and the racing of two pulses-one of which was directed by a human heart, and the other…
Well. She could find out soon, she supposed.
~(o0o)~
Orihime was unsurprised to find that Ulquiorra was no longer with her when she woke. She'd expected he'd been gone the moment her eyes had closed in true sleep, but as she ran her hands over the rumpled sheets next to her she found they were faintly warm. He'd left only recently.
She bit her lip to contain a smile, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms up over her head. He'd stayed, then.
She sat up, rubbing at her cheeks, and immediately she stopped smiling, overcome with a sudden thought; how could she smile over something like this? She'd slept with Ulquiorra. Heavy make-out sessions were one thing, but this? There was no going back. If her friends knew…
Well, they probably thought as much, after what they'd seen. Still, what did she think she was doing? She'd come back to save him from death, not… fuck him. She was getting distracted with relationships. And she knew why.
The heart.
It had always been her driving force, and now it was betraying her, desperate for any measure of true friendship and affection. It had been so long since she'd felt held, and now she went looking for something in Ulquiorra, who swore on his being he had no feelings to give her? Did she think he was some sort of pet project she could just fix?
She bowed her head between her legs.
Feeling gross from the vestiges of their night, Orihime wobbled awkwardly into the bathroom for a hot shower. There, beneath the steaming spray, she promised herself that she wouldn't get distracted again.
Kill Aizen. Save Ulquiorra. End the war.
That was it.
After a long clean and a bit of moping for the future of her sex life, she wrapped herself in a towel and padded back into the bedroom, where she began to dress. She'd gotten her underwear on when there was a slight knock on the door, and Ulquiorra stepped in.
"Oh." She blinked at him. "Hi."
He did not so much as blink at her state of dress. "I have brought you breakfast."
She'd call it romantic if it wasn't what he did every single day. She managed a smile. "Thanks. I'll be out in a second."
He nodded and was gone, then. She heard him close the main door to their rooms on his way out and sighed. Of course he wouldn't stay. She didn't want him to, did she? Why did sex have to make everything weird?
He didn't care about her. She knew that.
Resolve strengthened, she stepped out of the bathroom and started for her table, where there was a tray set out for her. She sat, gloomy, and pulled the top off.
A plate of steaming grilled cheese and a hot bowl of tomato soup sat there waiting for her.
She stared. She felt her eyes begin to water but blinked back the tears, reaching forward to poke at the food, as though it would disappear the moment she made contact with it. The grilled cheese was real and solid, though, and she took one into hand and bit into it, smiling around the bite.
Oh, this was bad.
I know you have a heart, Ulquiorra. Deep down in there, somewhere. You just proved it to me, a thousand times over.