godsend
birthday girl
:
Eyes narrowed behind oval-shaped glasses, Nanao thumped the table with her knuckles. However, Orihime remained lost in thought, her brown eyes trained on something over the bookshelves.
Nanao hit the table again, louder and harder than the last. Orihime straightened so quickly in her seat that her knees hit the bottom of the table.
"Is something wrong?" asked Orihime innocently.
The older woman adjusted her eyeglasses with practiced ease. "You're slacking off, Your Highness, that's what's wrong."
Orihime's face turned pink in embarrassment. Giving a timid smile as an apology, she stammered, "I-It won't happen again."
"Is there something bothering you? While it is true that you tend to have an overly active imagination, you are never neglectful of your studies. I can tell that something is troubling you."
"O-Oh, I… I…"
Just thinking about telling Nanao what she was thinking about made her face color even more as if her skin were on fire.
"The-There's nothing w-wrong! Everything's perfect!" Flailing her arms in panic when Nanao merely raised an eyebrow at her, she went on, "I-I'm fine, Nanao-san, thank you. It's just me being awfully scatterbrained today. I'm sorry."
After that, Orihime vowed inwardly to focus completely in her task and not to think about anything else. Propping up the book in front of her, she was determined to concentrate on understanding long texts, but her efforts were futile. Her thoughts were scattered and in the center of this messy convolution was Kurosaki Ichigo.
As if on cue, an image projected itself inside her head. Every detail was clear; his eyes, his mouth, his touch, his scent, his lips, his— Her face grew thinking about how he touched and kissed her and how wanton her reactions were was enough to make her permanently red.
Deeply mortified at the thoughts she was having, she fought the urge to rub her eyes as though it will help banish the memories from her mind. The sound of Nanao clearing her throat brought her back to the present.
Concentrate, Orihime! She had to stay task-oriented. There was plenty of time for fantasizing later.
Later, engrossed in her reading, she did not hear Ishida enter and address her. He had to announce himself twice and clear his throat several times before Orihime finally noticed his presence.
Her mouth hung open in surprise at Ishida's announcement.
"His Majesty… is here?"
"Yes. He wishes to speak with you."
With a nod, Orihime hastily moved to follow.
At the end of a corridor, Ishida opened a set of doors for her.
After thanking him, Orihime stepped inside the square room. The Emperor was not alone in waiting. There, sitting across from the Emperor and looking infuriated, was her husband.
The two men were in the middle of a conversation, and it seemed only the elder Kurosaki enjoyed the discussion, making cheerful gesticulations while Ichigo looked on, annoyed. Upon noticing another presence in the room, his half-lidded eyes slid over to her to stare unabashedly, causing pink coloring to gradually blossom in her cheeks.
Noticing his son's inattention, the Emperor looked over his shoulder to see what captured Ichigo's interest.
"Orihime-chaaan!" The elder Kurosaki leapt to his feet, gesturing to her with both hands to come closer. When she was within arm's length distance, he engulfed her in a bear hug, causing Orihime to squeak in surprise.
Ichigo jumped to his feet. "Oi, knock it off! You're going to crush her!" The Emperor, however, refused to let go. One of Ichigo's hands fastened hard on his father's shoulder and tore him off of Orihime.
"How very selfish, my boy!"
"You were going to break her neck or something! She's not as strong as you!" Ichigo bellowed.
"But I've missed her!" the Emperor insisted with an exaggerated pout. Ichigo glowered at his father before turning to face Orihime.
"Are you all right?"
"Y-Yes!"
His scowl deepened. "Are you sure?" He put a hand on her shoulder.
With a soft laugh, she patted his arm gently. "I'm fine, really. Thank you."
"You look lovely as always!" the Emperor exclaimed. Orihime turned red, smiling shyly. Ichigo, on the other hand, looked constipated. Ignoring his son's glare, he sat down and patted the space next to him. "Join us! This impertinent son of mine is such a boring conversationalist! Now," he went on as soon as Orihime was settled, "How do you want to celebrate your birthday, Orihime-chan?"
"Oh! M-My birthday…?"
The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Did you forget your own birthday?"
Orihime rubbed the back of her head, smiling the sort of smile as a person who felt embarrassed after saying something silly. "N-No, I'm just surprised. I didn't notice that—"
"Oh, my poor little girl!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her hard against his chest. "You've been working too much that you almost forgot your birthday, haven't you, Orihime-chan! This is unacceptable! This is—"
"Shut up. And get your hands off of her. You're making her uncomfortable."
In reply, the Emperor grinned toothily, deliberately squeezing Orihime's shoulder.
"Make me."
Orihime caught the fierce smirk on Ichigo's face before he lunged forward, so fast his movement appeared like a blur to her. In a second, he was already in front of his father.
"Ow!" The elder man's head snapped back and later, he was lifted off of the sofa.
Stunned, Orihime watched the two men exchange blows. Her eyes widened in shock when Ichigo got knocked to the ground by a tackle. She got to her feet.
"P-Please don't fight! Ichigo-kun! Your Majesty!"
With a growl, Ichigo leapt back to his feet, elbowed his father on the stomach and slammed him down on the floor. Orihime let out a gasp, horrified.
"Ichigo-kun, don't hurt him! He's—"
Ichigo straightened up, rotating his shoulder, still glaring at his wheezing father. "He's faking it."
"B-But…"
"Congratulations, Ichigo… You've become a man," Ichigo's father mumbled, still facedown on the floor.
Ichigo sneered. "Shut up. Be thankful I didn't hit you hard." He caught Orihime's arm as she hurried over his father. She looked up at him. "He's fine," he muttered, and pushed her toward the sofa he previously occupied. He took a seat next to her, folding his arms in front of his chest while fixing his prone father with a glare.
"A-Are you all right, Your Majesty?" asked Orihime worriedly.
Ichigo's father was on his feet in an instant. "Don't worry about me, Orihime-chan! Unlike my insolent son, Daddy is a man of steel!" To emphasize his point, he thumped his puffed-out chest proudly with both fists. Ichigo huffed, gritting his teeth.
"Anyway, what do you think of celebrating your birthday with your short-tempered, scowling, sullen husband?"
Orihime stiffened, mouth hanging open in surprise. "Ichigo-kun and…"
Her blushing face made the Emperor laugh boisterously. "Just the two of you, I'm afraid. But I don't trust my son! He might do very scandalous things like touching your—oomph!" A throw pillow had flown over and hit him in the face, cutting him off.
She pouted, turning to Ichigo. "That's not nice."
"He's about to say something stupid," Ichigo growled. He turned narrowed eyes to his grinning father. "Get to the point, old man."
The older Kurosaki flashed them a wide, loud – how his father managed to make a grin loud, Ichigo would never know and he did not intend to find out –incredibly annoying grin. "I know it's too early to give you a birthday present, considering it's still August, but it doesn't matter!" He paused to breathe. "My birthday gift for Orihime-chan is a three-day and two-night vacation from her duties! You deserve some days off, dear. But I feel sorry for you!"
The Emperor gave an exaggerated shake of his head, face pinched.
"He's so boring and an unpleasant party pooper! But," his eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he pointed out, "You two haven't had a proper honeymoon. This is the perfect time to do the mattress mambo—oomph!"
"I swear," Ichigo snarled and pulled back his arm after chucking another throw pillow at his father. "One more stupid word and I'll make sure to remove your front teeth!"
His father easily recovered. "Why are you so shy, oh son of mine? Have you forgotten about what I've told you about the miracles of—"
"I said shut it!" Ichigo stood, grabbing his startled wife's hand and tugging her to her feet. "We're leaving. And don't follow us!"
"But—"
"In case you've forgotten, this is my territory." Ichigo grinned fiercely, a nerve throbbing above his eyebrow. "I can kick you out of my house anytime I want!"
"So cruel! Ooh, Masaki, what have I done to be treated like this by our only son!" Ichigo shut the door behind them with loud bang.
:
Orihime felt that the end of August came too fast. She was half-excited and half-nervous, looking forward to the trip and, at the same, dreading it. Rangiku's suggestive comments did not help. They only made her feel more flustered and keyed up than ever.
The morning of their trip came with a bright dawn, September 2nd. Around two in the afternoon, the couple got into a pickup truck, a bright red Mitsubishi Triton. They exited the driveway, drove through the city streets, and then got on a highway.
As much as the idea of spending a short vacation with Ichigo thrilled her, the fact that they were going to be on their own without his Guards' protection worried Orihime. Ichigo, on the other hand, looked relaxed as he drove, giving her a feeling that he often went out like this, without protection from Imperial Guard.
"Ichigo-kun?"
Ichigo favored Orihime with a sideways glance.
"Is it really okay that we go without your bodyguards?"
"Yeah. Besides, they'll only attract unwanted attention. Chad's not very adept in blending in with the crowd."
The pickup, despite its size, changed lanes smoothly, slipping between cars effortlessly. Ichigo shifted gears with ease, the engines giving a gentle hum. They zoomed past a Subaru, swerved back to their previous lane, and Ichigo reduced their speed to a pace that was not too fast or too slow.
"What are you worried about?" asked Ichigo after a while.
Fidgeting with the seatbelt, she answered, "You should not be left alone."
"I'm not alone. You're with me. Do you not feel safe with me?"
Orihime stiffened and twisted her body towards him. "Oh! I-I don't mean it that way. It's just—" She bit her lip. "I'm worried."
"Don't be. I will not let anything happen to you."
"I'm more worried about you," she insisted. "Sado-kun is not with us and I'm not strong enough to protect you."
Scowling, he spared her another quick glance. "You don't have to protect me. I will protect you. Not the other way around."
Orihime shook her head firmly. "No." With an eyebrow raised, Ichigo glanced at her before focusing forward again. "Tatsuki-chan said I'm a black belt in karate so if something happened, I'll do my best to protect you in my own way."
A small smile played across his lips and hovered there. "A black belt, huh?" Orihime nodded determinedly. "I'm in capable hands, then?" The pickup shifted lane, slipped past an old truck, then steered back into the previous lane.
"You sure are! I will be your temporary bodyguard!"
Ichigo shrugged, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad. Take care of me, all right?"
"I will!" she vowed with a determined nod. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heartbeat at the sight of his smiling mouth, she faced the window beside her. "Ichigo-kun, may I open this window? I'm sure the wind slapping my face would feel nice!"
Ichigo lifted an eyebrow at her odd wording but he nodded. "Go ahead. Just don't— Oi, don't stick your head out of the car! It's dangerous!"
She gave a short laugh at his frantic expression, but did what he told her. Shifting until she was comfortable, Orihime gazed at the passing scenery. She had never been on a trip outside the city before. Everything seemed so new to her; the street signs, sounds, colors, the shape of clouds. Even the wind against her face felt different.
The breeze entering the vehicle occasionally lifted long locks of red hair toward Ichigo. He could see them dance in the corner of his eye as though teasing him. It was quiet between them, except for the gentle hum of the engines, the passing wind and automobiles.
Soon the silence was replaced by her chatter. Orihime talked about anything, random thoughts, random observations, and random memories. Ichigo was content to simply listen. She talked about the things that made her happy, the food she liked, the people she had met, talked to, and exchanged ideas with; about her best friend and the things they did together; about the things she wanted to do—
"When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut and defeat the evil alien race with my Space Battleship Yamato!"
Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "That's… a little dangerous."
"Not really. My ship has the three shock cannons, a set of pulse lasers and most importantly…" Orihime paused reverently, a solemn look on her face.
"The wave motion gun," Ichigo supplied with a small smile.
Orihime looked surprised, turning so that she was facing his profile.
"You watch too much science fiction, Orihime."
She laughed, throwing back her head. "I also watch Ghost Bust!" She lowered her voice to imitate the famed exorcist. "…Smells like bad spirits!"
"Not you too…" Ichigo groused with a groan, shaking his head.
"Too? What do you mean?"
"Yuzu and old man are huge fans of that show."
"Oh? You don't like Don Kanonji?"
He shrugged. "I don't have anything against him. I just don't like fortune telling, feng shui, psychics and all those trades where they take money from people for things you can't see."
Orihime smiled, glad to see another layer of Ichigo. She continued to fill the silence with random stories. She became strangely tightlipped, however, when Ichigo suddenly asked her about her parents and brother, hoping to startle her into answering. She stopped talking abruptly. For a moment, she looked lost, wounded, but it was so fleeting, as though it were just a trick of a light, before a bright smile occupied her whole face. Like the last time, the answers she gave were short.
At two-forty, they got off the highway and started down a small roadway. Noticing the silence, Ichigo glanced at Orihime. Her eyes were closed, her eyelids diaphanous. She was curled up in her seat, head against the frame of the window, auburn hair fluttering over her forehead and cheeks.
The road became uneven and rock-strewn. Ichigo held out an arm in front of her when they encountered a particularly large bump that rocked the whole vehicle. Ichigo took a quick look at Orihime to see if the disturbance disrupted her sleep; she continued to doze, her long, shiny hair strewn all over her seat.
The pickup continued on forward, turning, slowing down, accelerating until the path became smooth. A large, two-storey, wooden old-fashioned house surrounded by a tall wall made of thick wood and bamboo soon came into view.
Slowing down, Ichigo maneuvered the pickup and parked in front of the roofed gate.
Taking Orihime's shoulder, Ichigo shook her gently. "We're here."
Ichigo unlocked her seatbelt and got out of the truck. Opening the back door, he picked up their bags. In her seat, yawning, Orihime stretched then clambered out of the car, gazing at the unfamiliar landscape.
After securing the pickup, Ichigo walked over to Orihime. He took her hand and pulled her towards the roofed gate. With a squeak, she stumbled after him and clutching onto his forearm with her free hand.
"Where are we?"
They entered a large courtyard. "Hayama," Ichigo answered.
Azaleas, pine, plum, magnolias and manicured bushes lined the gravel path. A couple of stone lanterns peeked out between the trees. They crossed the large garden and ascended the stone steps. Ichigo lowered the bags he carried to the ground and knocked on the wooden door. Footsteps approached from the other side of the door. The door was unbolted and slid open, revealing a tall man with a calm face and an open, kind air about him.
Upon seeing Ichigo, the other man looked surprised. "Your Highness!"
"Ukitake-san."
"I didn't know you were coming," Ukitake said, bemused.
"Choosing this place was a last minute decision. Sorry for coming here on short notice."
"No, no, it's okay. It's no trouble. In fact, your decision to stay here makes me really happy. It has been years since you last visited and stayed." Kind, warm eyes turned to Orihime. "It's an honor to finally meet you in person, Your Highness. I'm Ukitake Jyuushiro."
"Good afternoon, Ukitake-san." Orihime beamed at him. "This place is so beautiful."
Ukitake smiled back. "Thank you. We always make sure to keep this place clean." Realizing they were standing and chatting in the doorway, Ukitake hurriedly stepped aside to let them in. "I'm sorry for my poor manners. Come in. Here, let me help you." He made a move to take the bags from Ichigo.
Ichigo shook his head. "It's okay. Lead the way, Ukitake-san."
"I'm really glad I kept the house clean. You see, this place doesn't get frequent visits. Imperial Family members use the Imperial Villa when they visit Hayama." Ukitake smiled at them as they walked down the hallway. "Now I'm sure to keep this place ready in case you surprise us again in the future."
Ukitake brought them to the drawing room. Orihime, who was still attached to Ichigo's side, was unable to hide her wonder as she looked around.
"I am confused, though," Ukitake continued, "The Imperial Villa is more accessible and has more complete amenities."
Ichigo put the bags down and looked around. It was the same as he remembered it: homey, spacious and clean. "I prefer small lodgings."
Ukitake smiled in understanding. Even as a child, the Crown Prince favored simpler things. "We have one problem, though. We don't have stocks of food here. I have to ask Kiyone and Sentarou to buy groceries."
"Don't worry about it. We'll do it," Ichigo said.
"You will? Is it—"
"That's true!" Orihime chirped cheerfully from Ichigo's side, their hands still entwined. "We can manage, Ukitake-san." While the Crown Prince can defend himself efficiently when necessary, Ukitake was still uncertain.
"We'll be fine. It'd be interesting," Ichigo added with a shrug.
"Don't worry, Ukitake-san! I'll protect Ichigo-kun." She nodded determinedly, raising a fist. "My best friend told me I'm a black belt in Karate." Laughing sheepishly, Orihime rubbed the back of her head. "I look clumsy but I was told that I'm strong enough and very sturdy. Plus, my head is as hard as a rock." She tapped the side of her head with her knuckles for emphasis.
Ukitake smiled warmly, finally giving in. "I'll leave the Crown Prince in your care, then. If you have any concerns, don't hesitate to call me. I'll leave my house number here."
Ichigo nodded. "Thanks." He watched the older man leave through the front door before turning to Orihime. He let go of her hand and watched her pad across the floor to inspect the furniture.
"This is the first time I've been into an old-fashioned house. The atmosphere is different. I feel like I was transported to another beautiful world!" Orihime slid open a screen, revealing a portion of the garden surrounding the house. Sea-scented breeze wafted in, enfolding the two of them.
Ichigo glanced at his wristwatch. It was three twenty-five. "We have a lot of time to spare." He saw Orihime murmur under her breath, rubbing a palm on the wooden frames of a sliding paper door. "You can take a nap before we buy groceries and other supplies."
She turned to him with a smile. "Oh! I actually feel energized! So if you want to go now, it's okay."
"All right. Let me wash up first and change."
:
In a white v-neck shirt, black cotton jacket with a hood to hide his signature bright spikes and wearing sunglasses, Ichigo followed Orihime inside the convenience store. Orihime had also changed into a flowery knee-length skirt, a light yellow sweater over a white blouse, and worn tennis shoes with no socks. Her long hair was tied in two loose long plaits, her long fringes clipped on top of her head with a hairpin.
"You look like a high school girl." Ichigo told her when he first saw her.
Blinking, Orihime looked down at herself. "I do?"
Ichigo did not answer right away, his eyes lidded. "No, not really…"
They bought rice, breads, bottles of water, eggs, smoked salmon, leeks, two cartons of milk, broccoli, strawberries, beef, eggplant, radish, potatoes, cauliflower, tofu, pickles, squid and—
"Wasabi?"
She responded with a grin. "You can't have ramen without wasabi and honey." Ichigo looked even more bewildered. Orihime took a package of noodles from a shelf. "Do you like noodles?"
"Yeah…" he replied distractedly, looking at the contents of their shopping cart. What could they make using this bizarre combination of ingredients? Nevertheless, Ichigo let her get whatever she thought they might need while he grabbed several chocolate bars.
Done with shopping for enough food to hold them over for three days, they drove back to the house. It turned out that despite her quirky choices in ingredients, Orihime can create tasty, albeit odd-looking dishes.
After dinner, Ichigo took a long bath before going back to the kitchen to help Orihime.
When she spun around at the sound of him reentering the room, she grew still. Ichigo's hair was still dripping wet. Droplets of water slid from the tips of his soaked hair to his bare shoulders and chest. His sweatpants hung low around his hipbones.
Orihime staggered backward, clutching the dishrag and small bowl to her heaving chest. Ichigo raised a brow at her reaction. She seemed to have trouble speaking.
"You…! I… Why— you're…" she stammered, her voice coming out as strangled and breathless. Her face had turned a bright shade of red. Orihime felt like her heart and brain were both in danger of short-circuiting from sensory overload.
On the other hand, Ichigo looked oblivious, lifting a hand to push his wet bangs off his forehead. This action brought her attention to the rippling muscles of his arm, ribs and pectorals. He then crossed his arms in front of his naked chest and looked at her from under his lowered eyelashes.
Neither said anything for a full minute or more, with only the running water making any noise.
Ichigo finally chose to break the silence. "The bathroom is down the corridor." Orihime started and fixed him a wide-eyed look. "The last door to the right. I'll finish up here." He walked over to her, and she took a few clumsy steps back.
This was exactly the way she reacted during their first night together so it did not surprise Ichigo. He plucked the bowl and dishrag from her hands and watched her attempt to make a coherent response, opening her mouth a couple of times, but nothing seemed to work so she just nodded jerkily a few times, dropped her eyes, and left the kitchen as though she were being chased.
Reaching over to turn off the faucet, Ichigo glanced over his shoulder in the direction where Orihime had disappeared. He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.
"Fuck."
:
Clutching her things and change of clothes to her chest, Orihime stood in front of the mirror, flushed and wide-eyed.
Wet hair. Naked chest. Low waist sweatpants— S-Stop right there! Orihime buried her red face into her towel. Think of… think of… Aha! A stomping mecha with max speed of 380km/h, flames shooting from its mouth!
She repeated this mantra over and over again and it seemed to work for she was able to finish her bath without getting distracted. Rejuvenated, she stepped into what she assumed was her bedroom.
On the floor was a futon large enough for two people. An old-fashioned lamp shone from a low table in the corner, giving the room a faint yellow glow. Standing in the other corner nearest to the door was a wooden chest of drawers.
After drying her hair, she slipped under the blanket. The futon and the blankets smelled fresh and felt fluffy. Orihime closed her eyes in satisfaction, wiggling a bit and smiling to herself.
Later, she did not hear the sound of door sliding open and footsteps enter, her senses fogged with drowsiness. The light from the lamp slowly faded until it was turned off and complete darkness engulfed the room. Seconds later, something warm flopped down next to Orihime.
"Hey." It took a while for Orihime to open her eyes, blinking groggily. "Move a little to your left."
"I-Ichigo-kun…?" Orihime mumbled absent-mindedly. What was he doing here? This was her room— Are we… going to sleep on the same futon?
At this thought, her eyes flew open. She barely suppressed a squeak when large hands grasped her shoulders, effortlessly but gently shifting her. Then she felt Ichigo slump on the vacant space next to her.
Seconds ticked by, thirty eight, thirty nine, forty, forty one, forty two.
His breathing was steady.
Orihime released the long, shaky breath she had unconsciously held. Her fingers curled, crumpling the sheet. All she had to do was move by an inch and she can touch—
No! She slapped her cheek, scolding herself for thinking such scandalous thought.
Almost afraid the slightest move will wake Ichigo, Orihime turned her head in his direction. He was lying on his side, his back to her. Instead of slipping under the covers beside her, he rested on top of the blanket. From what she can make out in the darkness, Ichigo was still shirtless. Careful not to disturb his sleep, Orihime slipped off the futon and felt around for the chest of drawers to look for a spare blanket. Fortunately, there were extras available. Taking one, she draped the blanket over Ichigo before slipping under hers.
:
He woke to a bright sunlight pouring through a window, creating shadows and strips of light across the walls, on the floor, on the blanket draped over his lower body, on his chest.
After pulling on a shirt, Ichigo stepped into the hallway, his brown eyes narrowing at the hallway brightly illuminated by the sunlight pouring through the thin paper screens. When he arrived in the kitchen, it was empty. On the table was a set of lunch. Lifting a hand to scratch his tousled hair, he checked the time on the old wall clock. He had slept until two in the afternoon.
He stepped into another hallway leading to an engawa that opened up to a vegetable garden. Lowering his hand, he stared out in the garden, his eyes locating Orihime's crouched figure. A large, old straw hat shielded her face from the sun. She must have felt his presence for she lifted her head and looked toward the veranda.
Upon seeing his tall figure, Orihime got to her feet and approached him. She almost burst into a fit of giggles at the sight of his ruffled hair, spikes sticking up in different angles.
"I made lunch for you. It's on the table." She told him with a wide smile, eyes still drawn to the messy orange head of hair. It was so much brighter under the unobstructed sunshine.
"Thanks." He dragged a hand over his face, still looking sleepy. "What's your plan for today?" His voice was still raspy from sleep. "It's your birthday." He elaborated when she stared at him quizzically.
"Oh, that's right!"
An amused smile briefly spread over his face. "What do you want to do?"
"Actually… I didn't make any plans," Orihime admitted, tapping her chin. She usually spent her birthdays eating bread or doughnuts and ice cream, and reading. If Tatsuki was free, she would come over and they'd watch comedy and science fiction movies.
"We can look around if you want… see the sights, something like that." Ichigo offered, scratching a spot in his chin.
Her eyes widened. "Is— is it really okay?" she asked, barely suppressing her excitement.
He looked into the distance, squinting. "Name the place where you want to go."
Orihime beamed, large eyes sparkling as she clasped her hands together. "Can you bring me to a beach?" She had never been to a beach before due to lack of extra time and funds. This was perhaps the only chance she'll get to visit one.
"All right, beach it is."
After eating the food Orihime prepared for him, the two of them took turns using the bathroom. Orihime hurriedly slipped into a pale green dress with billowing hem and square neckline and dried her hair. She was tackling the tangles in her hair when Ichigo entered the room. She did not see him enter, but the deluge of very male scent alerted her to his presence. Blushing, Orihime combed her hair faster, trying to ignore the urge to peek over her shoulder.
What has gotten into me? What would Nii-chan think? He'd be so horrified.
Behind Orihime, a towel around his hips, Ichigo stood before the cabinet where Orihime had stored his clothes. Keeping his back to her, he slipped into a grey v-neck shirt and old, washed-out, tight jeans.
Ichigo first took her to the garden of Imperial Villa. It was open to the public and there were few tourists who did not even spare them a glance, captivated by the beauty of nature. After their garden trip, he brought her to a park. Ichigo noticed that every time they passed an ice cream stand, Orihime would make a strange, wide-eyed face. At the fourth ice cream stand they passed, he brought her over it and told her to get whatever flavor she wanted.
At first, she looked shocked, and then she smiled brightly at him. Ichigo frowned and looked away, as though she's reminded him of something both pleasant and painful.
Unfortunately, a lot of people and children were dallying at the beach. Deciding not to risk it, they stayed inside the pickup and watched the sunset from behind the tinted windows.
"We'll come back tomorrow," Ichigo promised. Smiling, Orihime nodded in understanding. As they drove back to the house, they made a quick stopover next to a curb. Ichigo flicked on the hood of his jacket and slipped on his sunglasses before slipping out of the pickup.
"I'll be quick. Wait here." The door snapped shut. He returned several minutes later, carrying a red square box.
"What is it?"
Ichigo restarted the engine.
"You'll see."
:
They were halfway through their dinner when Ichigo revealed his surprise. Too stunned to utter a single word, she gaped at the cake then at Ichigo.
"You don't like chocolate?" asked Ichigo when she remained incapable of speech.
Orihime started and flailed an arm. "Oh, I-I love chocolate! I…" The round cake was generously covered in chocolate and topped with fresh strawberries.
"Happy birthday, Orihime."
"Thank you, Onii-chan! Ooh, it's chocolate!"
"It's your favorite, isn't it?"
"Un! With strawberries!"
"Ripe and fresh."
"Onii-chan is the best brother in the world!"
"And Orihime is the best thirteen year old girl in the world."
"—Orihime?"
"Huh?"
"What's wrong?"
After forcefully shaking herself out of her daze, of that memory, she smiled at Ichigo brightly. "I just remembered something."
"A good memory?"
She smiled to herself. "Yes." A bittersweet memory but nonetheless, it was precious.
"Thank you, Ichigo-kun. It looks very beautiful."
After dinner and cleaning the kitchen, Orihime clicked off the lights. In the hallway, some lights were turned off, engulfing the corridor in half darkness. The light near their room remained lit. Near the door to their bedroom, leaning on his side against a wall was Ichigo, head bowed, his hair falling over his eyes.
When he lifted his head to look at her, she smiled at him.
"Thanks for today."
He frowned. "I'm sorry. The cake was all I managed to give you."
"Don't say that," she protested gently. "I loved the cake! You bringing me here and the cake are more than enough. I enjoyed this day, really I did! I knew from books and pictures that Hayama is perfect place to visit but I didn't expect it to be so beautiful." A small smile touched the corner of his lips which made Orihime smile more.
Silently he gazed at her. Orihime could not see his expression well with the light shining behind his head.
She did not hear him move. Rather she felt it. His scent was closer, stronger. Her heart rate sped up, his nearness making her nervous, but she did not move away. A delicious tingle raced under her skin, over her spine and back up to the back of her neck. She swallowed and nervously licked her lips when his eyes focused on her mouth.
When he looked in her eyes again, Orihime found staggering intimacy in the way they stood close together, like this, facing each other, not touching, but hearing and feeling each others' heartbeats. In that space that separated them was an abyss that will suck them in, will trap them in.
Ichigo touched her cheek with his fingertips, his thumb running over her bottom lip. "That's good to hear," he said, his voice quiet, but in the silence of the darkened hallway, she heard him clearly. His hazel-brown eyes seemed to burn with a life of their own.
A sigh, a breathless sigh.
Her lips curved in a smile under his thumb. "It's true," she whispered, mesmerized.
At the touch of his warm palm on her cheek, Orihime became painfully aware of the heat rising within her. Slowly as though giving her time to refuse him, Ichigo bent down and kissed her lips. A sigh parted her lips. His tongue ran over the edge of her bottom lip, and then lightly nipped it.
One of her hands lifted between them to clutch at his shirt to pull him closer. The distance between them soon disappeared, their bodies pressed close together from shoulders to thighs. Desire, so strong it made her knees weak, raced vigorously through her, a living thing that seemed to grow and pulse with a life of its own.
Both of his hands framed her face, tipping her head back to fully deepen the kiss. One hand slid over the base of her skull to support her head, auburn locks twisting themselves around his long fingers.
Orihime tried to match the fire of his kisses with her own, but Ichigo devoured her lips completely, his tongue tracing over her lips, teeth, and tongue. With his other arm, he encircled her waist in a tight embrace.
Soon their clothing became annoyingly restrictive, suffocating. Orihime craved for their skin to touch, to feel the wild strength that pounded wildly under his hot skin. Her hands roamed over his back before slipping under his shirt. She gasped against his demanding lips; his skin was hot, like a furnace, sinewy muscles twitching, rippling, stretching and contracting under her touch.
Ichigo tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth, sucking and biting, and laving the swollen flesh with his tongue. Orihime gripped the skin of his flank, massaging and squeezing, her nails digging into his flesh. The hint of pain made Ichigo growl and kiss her harder and deeper.
Eager hands unbuttoned her blouse. They got impatient at the third button and tore the rest. Round, white buttons clattered and skittered away. He shoved her collar to the side, pulled away from her swollen lips and sank his teeth gently into the junction where her shoulder met her neck.
Orihime gasped, moaned, tipped her head back while Ichigo continued to undress her, still sucking her skin. Her blouse fell to the floor, followed by her bra, the back clasp torn. Another moan, louder this time, was ripped from her as soon as his hands curved over her breasts possessively.
With all his weight, Ichigo trapped her against the wall, caging her in with his larger body. He rolled his hips and kneaded her breasts firmly, lifting and molding them together, making her whine and pant against his wet lips. She squirmed, groaning, when he squeezed her nipples. With his lower body grinding insistently against her, creating delicious friction, the heat in her blood increased to a fevered level, and she felt lost, wild, not herself.
"I-Ichigo…" she panted against his lips, face flushed and warm.
As if he sensed her need, Ichigo grabbed her bottom with one hand, hauling her up and closer to his erection. Startled, she bit down on his lower lip hard.
He groaned, shuddering violently. He grasped her breast tighter, flicking the sensitive hard tip with his nail, and ground his hips harder against hers. Orihime let out a long, needy moan, unable to hold back, as pleasure surged in her lower belly. It was too intense that her wobbly legs finally gave out. Ichigo caught her, clutching her bottom, and then he half-carried and half-dragged her toward their room.
He shoved her firmly against what Orihime thought was the chest of drawers. Still supporting her bottom with one hand and the other splayed on her back, he bent down and took a stiff nipple in his mouth. She gasped, sparks dancing along her nerves at the searing contact, making her dizzy. His tongue swirled around the hardened tip before drawing it deeper as far as it would go into his wet mouth, sucking on it eagerly.
Head lolling back, hanging onto his shirt, uncaring if she was on the verge of tearing the seams because of her tight grip, Orihime gasped for air frantically. Her body was wound tight beyond belief, desperate for release.
Panting, Orihime wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer to her chest, fingers tangling in his hair. Ichigo grabbed the back of her thigh and hoisted it higher to his waist, lifting her higher, firmly lodging himself in the cradle of her thighs, licking and sucking her nipples.
As he continued to taste her skin, her hands clawed at his back until his shirt rode up, scoring his hot flesh with her blunt nails. The slight pain caused Ichigo to groan against her breast. Capturing the rosy tip between his teeth, he surged forward between her thighs and at the same time, tugged her nipple with his teeth sharply.
Orihime jerked, her breath catching in her throat. Biting her lower lip hard, she struggled to contain the embarrassing sounds in the back of her throat, but it was futile. This intense hunger, as if she had not had a meal for days then he came along and all she ever wanted to eat was him, was frightening her, making her question herself and her morals. But right now, it did not matter. The feeling of being so close to the brink of something so powerful was overriding her shyness.
With one last flick over her rosy, swollen nipple, Ichigo pulled away from her breast. In quick movements, he took off his shirt, nearly tearing off all the buttons. He enveloped her in his arms again, pulled her close to his body and kissed her feverishly, as though her mouth was a meal he had to devour.
Flesh against flesh, her breasts against his hard chest, their lips clinging to one another. Electric, irresistible. Her noises changed, edged with desperation, lustier, louder, her timidity replaced by boldness.
In the dimly-lit room, Ichigo found their futon with his foot and put her down carefully. Thick, auburn hair spread out under her head. Wide caramel eyes, unblinking, transparent. A thin chain surrounded her pale neck, blue flowers resting between her heaving breasts.
Her hands roamed his back, her fingers dipping under the waistband of his jeans. She watched him with naked desire in her eyes. Her arms embraced him closer to her warmth, her lips parting to whisper his name, beckoning him closer. With a harsh groan, he sank his tongue into her mouth, covering her body completely with his. The next moments were a blur of mouths, teeth and tongues. He made wet trails on her skin, biting her here and there, creating a path for his tongue, for his kisses.
With reverence, he kissed the triangle between her collarbones. Then he kissed her pulse point, grazing her skin with his teeth, and returned to ravishing her panting mouth. Her fingers clutched at his hair as she kissed him back.
Too engrossed in exploring his mouth, Orihime did not notice him fumble with the waistline of her skirt, his fingers locating the button that held the fabric. With a quick jerk, he tore it open and the button skittered away. She lifted her hips as Ichigo tugged her skirt down to her legs along with her purple panties. Carelessly, he tossed them to the side and immediately slipped his hand between her thighs to cup her wet heat.
Moaning around his tongue, Orihime rubbed herself against his palm, seeking release. He pushed a finger into her, and the feel of her soaked, hot sex, so ready for him, made him groan and flex his hips to rub against her thigh.
Abruptly his lips broke away from hers, and he watched her squirm and whine as he added another finger. Her warmth clenched forcefully around his fingers while his thumb circled the swollen nub at the apex of her wet folds lightly before rubbing it hard.
"Ah!" Orihime gasped, back arching off the futon, her hair gleaming around and under her head.
The muscles in his jaw clenched as Ichigo watched her writhe. Beads of sweat rolled from his temples to his cheeks and jaw, dropping to her skin, their sweat mingling. Her slick flushed skin glimmered in the faint lighting. He licked his lips and rubbed her harder, pushing his fingers deeper. A shudder raced through her body, causing her spine to arch off the futon over and over and her breasts to move up and down. Damp red-brown locks twisted messily as she turned her head to the side, exposing her slender neck, that delicate throb of her pulse under her jaw.
Still thrusting his fingers inside her, he pressed hard kisses to her neck and collarbones, nipping her skin. Her hands clutched at the muscles of his back, nails digging and leaving marks, her moans growing louder, more needy as the pace of his fingers increased.
"Ichi… Ichigo …"
When he felt the first tremors of her release, he withdrew his fingers, causing her to whine softly in protest. Panting heavily, she blinked up at him with a look that was both innocent and seductive. Ichigo clenched his teeth and blew out several breaths.
While he held her gaze, he raised his damp fingers to his mouth and darted his tongue out to take a sample of her taste. A different look, more intense and erotic, darkened her eyes. Her slender throat moved slowly, her eyes not leaving his glistening fingers. Without finesse, he shoved his fingers into his mouth and sucked them, lapping at his treat, groaning to show his pleasure. A dark emotion stirred in her eyes, her bruised lips parted. He licked his fingers, not breaking eye contact with her. He hardened to the point of pain as something akin to lust flared in her eyes and her thighs opened for him, showing him how ready she was.
Ichigo could no longer wait anymore.
Hurriedly, he unbuttoned his jeans and slid out of them, hissing between clenched teeth as his erection throbbed, now free from its constraint. He was burning with fierce need to possess and be possessed by the woman under him. Finally undressed, he returned between her legs, stroking her sides.
Her face was flushed, and she looked sweet and vulnerable under his larger and powerful body. In spite of the innocence that seemed to pour out of her naturally, the hunger was there in the way she looked at him. The scent of her desire was so thick in the air between them that Ichigo can taste it on his tongue.
One of her hands tentatively reached out to touch him, the tips of her index and middle fingers brushing his chest lightly. He did not know what made him do it – an impulse or perhaps it was because of how sweet she looked despite the thick scent of sex between them.
He took her small hand and kissed her fingers. She smiled, making him pause for a moment. It was difficult to imagine that such an innocent-looking woman was capable of unleashing a possessive passion in him that made him want to lose himself in her very essence.
Her legs opened up wider, a very erotic invitation that contrasted deeply with her sweet smile and innocent face. He grasped her hips, the tip of his erection brushing her, making her moan his name. The sound of his name on her lips was sinfully sweet, like a forbidden caress.
Barely resisting the urge to pound into her with all his strength, he thrust into her with a force that was both gentle and hard. Catching her swollen lip hard between her teeth, Orihime stifled a cry, her back arching rigidly and fingernails digging into his shoulder.
Surrounded by her tightness and silky wetness, Ichigo groaned deep in his throat, body tense and taut. She was as wet and aroused as the first time they made love. How long had it been since he first took her? The past months of not touching her was a torture, made him lose his mind at times.
And now, he was deeply inside her, from tip to base. In a word, another torture, but this, this was an addicting, delicious torture. Something he'd love to lose his mind into.
When her thighs squeezed his hips, pulling him deeper into her, he cursed, hissing, almost losing his control right then and there. Still, he was determined to take control for he was one who had always claimed to have perfect control over his body and its needs. Ichigo pushed her down on the futon and withdrew inch by inch. Her hot flesh clung to him, unwilling to let go. He licked his dry lips, straining for control. The tip barely left her when he plunged right in again. Orihime cried out, gripping the sheets. He repeated this action over and over— slowly withdrawing until he was almost free then plunging fast. And each time he did, Orihime made cute, breathy, needy sounds that made it harder for Ichigo to slow down and be gentle.
Soon everything became too much, but still not enough. Both were hungry for something they could not name. Despite this, Ichigo strived to maintain control, but it was futile. She was irresistible, addicting, driving him crazy. He felt like his head will explode from the sharp pleasure flooding his body. His control started to slip and his thrusts became fiercer and irregular, but she seemed not to mind his growing urgency. If anything, she responded with same fervor and hunger, his name tumbling out of her mouth, resonating inside his head.
Ichigo.
Ichigo.
Grabbing her rear and lifting her off the futon, Ichigo thrust as deep as he could with a groan, his body quivering in an effort to control the pace of his thrusts. But when her hips bucked hard under his, taking all of him, from tip to base, squeezing him tightly, his breath was knocked out of him and he forgot his vow to slow down. He growled, groaned, cursed, and gripped her hips, and then pounded into her harder, faster, out of control, again and again.
Orihime arched her neck, mouth falling open, crying out, feeling so full of Ichigo. She wriggled in a near frenzy under his merciless thrusts, wanting more. He was a big, hot presence in her. He, everything, his hard heat, his intensity, were too much to bear, and yet she wanted more. Every frantic thrust he made overwhelmed her, pushing her harder, closer to the edge. Her thighs squeezed him tightly as she lifted her sweaty self up to meet his thrusts, her ankles tangled with his calves. Skin glided against skin, slick with sweat.
"Orihime," he groaned between clenched teeth, watching her eyes lose focus as the hot, tight knot inside her unraveled.
Stiffening, back arched, Orihime cried out his name and as she did, Ichigo buried his face in her neck, not stopping from lunging forward. He groaned, relishing the feel of her clenching tightly around him. His head spun with the force of sensations flooding him. He clutched the sweat-sodden sheet with one hand, the other gripping her hip, thrusting repeatedly, so out of control that he worried he might be hurting her.
"Fuck," he hissed, and held her hips with both hands as he drove against her hips.
A gasp escaped her swollen lips and her body squeezed him hard. For a moment, Ichigo stilled before a violent torrent of intense pleasure grabbed hold of him. Orgasm slammed into him, driving a groan from his mouth. His hips were on auto-pilot, still thrusting, riding the waves of passion. It seemed that his passion for her had no end, and he was desperate to make it last for as long as it can.
Beneath him, Orihime ran her palms over his slippery back, feeling muscles tighten as he continued to surge deep into her. He threw his head back, neck muscles contracting fiercely as his chest came forward. All of these Orihime watched with fascination.
Even with his heavy weight pressing down on her after he collapsed on top of her, Orihime smiled and embraced him. Still breathing heavily, Ichigo tried to roll off of her but she did not let him. She held fast, clutching him. He lifted his head from her sweaty shoulder and looked down at her.
Orihime smiled at him shyly, tears filling her eyes. "Thank you. I-It was wonderful."
It must be her imagination; she was happy, felt loved. It was okay if it was just fantasy of hers inspired by the intensity of their lovemaking, but his face appeared to soften as he smiled at her much like the way a man did at the woman he cared for. A tear fell from the corner of her eye. His fingers brushed wet auburn strands off her flushed cheek and he kissed her, long and thorough.
The kiss created another spark of desire in her. He must have felt it grow intense because he deepened the kiss, his lips moving more urgently, his thumb tracing the side of her ribs.
"Ichigo…"
Ichigo licked his lips, his eyes dark. "You…"
He shoved an arm between her back and the sweat-soaked blanket, his hand gripping her hip possessively as he grinded against her in circle, creating new, fiercer sensations. Clutching his shoulder and his arm, Orihime squirmed, biting her lip to muffle her moans. She felt sore and exhausted, but she wanted more, so much more.
"C-Can we…" She bit her bottom lip, her shyness making her falter. Ichigo's lips curled in a smile. He planted his hands on her back and hoisted her up to a sitting position, her thighs straddling him. Orihime drew a shaky breath at the change of position.
"I… I'll be on top?" she whispered, eyes wide with wonder.
Some damp red-orange hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead. Cupping the side of her face, he grinned lopsidedly. "Just once. So do your best."
She smiled back and kissed him, her arms looping around his neck. With one hand, she ran her fingers thought his thick, sweat-soaked orange spikes. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, shyly at first, before boldly kissing him, eliciting a growl from him.
notes.
to Hanran who drew a stunning artwork based on this fic, thank you! it was amazing and gorgeous and – ahaha i think i've expressed my feelings for it in a PM! guys, if you have free time, check out her fanarts at Deviantart!
to lovely rairakku-chama, thanks so very very much for your help and looking over this piece! *v* check out her amazing (sexy!) fics :)
and ahh, smut oh yeaaaaah. wink, wink! :P
this took a while, i realize. don't worry, next chapter's 75% done so please give me a week or so! in any case, as always, thank you, thank you very much for continuing to read and review even with my infrequent updates. :) your reviews are all greatly appreciated and encouraging, thank you so much! i hope you had fun with this chapter! :) /flails