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Heat Of The Night	By : AlmaGemela Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 8350 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Since my driver's license does NOT say Kubo Noriaki, I do not own BLEACH. The only thing being made from this fanfiction is a hobby. But please enjoy!

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: Still not mine. I just like to play with them once in a while for no other reason than perverted enjoyment. Hopefully other perverts enjoy my playing with them, too!

WARNING: Blatant lemon and non-con ahead. Don’t like it, don’t read it. This story is meant for perverts like me, anyway…as well as my fellow nerds. We’re creative types

There was no warning.
One moment, he was there: intense, cerulean eyes burning into her own hazel orbs…And he was gone, within the flicker of a blink.
She might have believed the whole encounter had simply been her imagination. But the sticky fluid of his desire had begun to itch atop her skin, mixing with the sweat caused by a different type of heat that continued to burn from within. She might have questioned his sudden absence. Had almost choked in disbelief as denial of the entire experience danced beyond her reach, knowing he had used a shunpo to escape…But the bone-wrenching scream of a hollow twisted in the night air, and the hair at the back of her neck prickled at the feel of it’s sand-papery reiatsu. Oh…so…he wasn’t…he went to kill that hollow…Disoriented, stomach tight in nauseous anxiety, Orihime’s eyes numbly cast about the room. A part of her felt acute relief at the reprieve, and slowly she felt something begin to loosen inside. He’s gone…it’s…it’s going to be fine…It’s over, and tomorow it’ll all be…Her eyes locked onto a scarf worth more than the Seireitei, and a blood-soaked shihakusho, both discarded and…forgotten…
Nerves ripped her back into action. Her limbs shook even as she stumbled to her feet, frantically racing toward the bathroom with her heart in her mouth. Quickly as she could, she immediately began to run the bath, never removing her the arm from her chest. It wasn’t entirely out of propriety’s sake. It hurt to run without some mode of support; a nuisance of being well endowed. At least when it came to trying to move fast. And she needed to move quickly. Orihime was never one to curse…but she very nearly did so now. Kurosaki-kun had inadvertently taught her some scorchers over the years. Come on! Come on! Hurry up! You need to hurry up! Scalding water hissed from the faucet. But she didn’t care. Precious seconds were ticking away.
He would be back any moment. She was certain of it. One such as Kuchiki Taicho would never return home to the Seireitei after something like this…especially half dressed, clearly nothing to do with battle. And even then, there were the questions that would inevitably go unanswered. Returning to his Noble House in the Seireitei, without a shirt…no physical injuries…she had healed him, after all. It wouldn’t be hard from someone like Unohana Taicho to discern her reiatsu’s signature…put two and two together…and it would all trail back to her. To them. What they did…what they almost did…Too much had happened in such a short span of time. He wasn’t the type to leave loose ends…The initial relief she had felt at his unexpected departure had long since drained away in the face of her escalating panic. She was so stupid for thinking even for a second that this was all over.
If I’m lucky, he’ll grab his clothes and demand that I agree to a vow of silence. Heck, maybe he’ll even have some paperwork drawn up on it for me to sign…!
A thin giggle escaped her mouth at the thought of a Rokubantai squad member from Soul Society, at Kuchiki Taicho’s behest, urging her to sign her life away under pain of death. Or maybe they knew she’d comply under threat of deprivation of red bean paste. Or worse: cut her off from her newly acquired love known as peanut butter. Kuchicki Taicho certainly knew more about the latter, after tonight…she’s babbled about it enough… Hysteria and panic were warping her sense of humor about the situation. Keep it together! Focus, Inoue! She ripped open the bathroom door and spun toward the linen closet. In one deft motion, she shoved it open and grabbed a towel. Her fingers clumsily closed onto one too many, but she didn’t care. Trying to keep the mess of terry cloth from making contact with her sticky skin, she pivoted and darted toward the bathroom with the sound of water groaning into the tub. However, she was thwarted; slamming face first into the sweat-slicked skin of a male chest.
He had stared at the girl. No…young woman, before him. His thoughts were completely clear. Whatever Alma Gemela had injected in his blood had waned, and with it waxed his sanity and reason. He didn’t know how to react. He had been uncertain just what it was he intended to do. This…situation, was a bit out of his depth. And so he had simply narrowed his eyes at her in thought, striving to ignore the generous heaving of her buxom chest as she took in fearful puffs of air. She was aware he had come to his senses, and was obviously uncertain of his reaction to what they had done. What they had almost done. What he had forced her to do.
It was then he had felt the abrasive chafe of a Hollow’s reiatsu. It was a small thing without any real power. One he ordinarily left to lesser Shinnigami, in that something this weak and mundane posed no challenge to his skill set. Rather, such a creature only threatened boredom. Albeit in this case, it provided an opportunity for distraction, for which he was grateful. He would admit that an additional benefit would be the continued absence of the Kurosaki boy. A hollow of this insignificance was just the type to draw the substitute shinnigami from his nightly patrols of Karakura, and his presence was literally the last thing he needed at the moment. Before Inoue-san had a chance to draw her next breath, he immediately used a shunpo. In a whirl of fabric, he had retied the ties of his hakama and briskly leaped through the frame of her window into the heat-soaked night.
He scarcely needed any effort to track the hollow; in mere moments he had it cornered in a disused alley. Really, he could have finished it immediately, even without Senbonzakura. But the familiarity of battle, however meager, allowed him to fall into the comfort of a false sense of security. His thoughts had been skipping like a stone over water, but they settled quickly like a rock resolutely drifting beneath the chaotic surface. As he went through the practiced motions, battling the hollow with deadly precision while wearing a mask of indolent disinterest, he felt a necessary calm come over his being. Even though nothing had actually been resolved. He felt in control, and that was a start.
With a final, bone-shivering scream, he finally put the creature out of its misery. The battle had dragged on long enough. While regretful that the eradication of Karakura’s latest threat hadn’t permitted a greater use of his dexterity, Byakuya knew that a timely abolition had been a preferable outcome. It would not do for the boy, or any other shinnigami for that matter, to come across him in this state. To say nothing of the boy’s inevitably misguided reaction to his person being without a shirt or even a zanpakuto, the effects Inoue-san had on his person still lingered. Likely, in his inept and rash way, the substitute shinnigami may have discovered what had in fact transpired between himself and the mortal girl by jumping to justifiable conclusions. Though the…occurrence…had largely been influenced by an Arrancar’s poison, he could not in all honesty claim complete innocence in the matter. He could deny it all he wished. In the end, it was merely ash in the wind, left by a violently raging fire. Byakuya had willingly embraced the passion, long-buried and feared dead, when he should have continued to fight its influence.

The…young woman had pleasured him…presumably out of duty, or perhaps out of some misguided obligation to tend his baser needs which the aphrodisiac had raised to the surface. Like bubbles churning upward in boiling water, the heat had overwhelmed and blistered the both of them. The fact of the matter remained that he should have resisted the pull…It had only been fifty years, but the ache of not holding a woman had not been buried deep enough to keep from reaching out and hurting a woman who was scarcely more than a girl. A part of him, however small, acknowledged that he had obligingly abandoned his normally iron will when faced with temptation’s call. That, on some level, he found her desirable. Another part of himself was shocked that she had given in…and even more that they had both enjoyed it. Gratification aside, the fact that his appetite had been fed did not forgive his indulgence. He had more control of his facilities than that. He knew this; had acknowledged this. And yet he had given in.
As had she…
He ignored his subconscious. It would not do to focus on something as irrational as that. She may just as likely have given him what he wanted because she actually had no choice in the matter. He was stronger than her, both physically and mentally. Granted, he had grudgingly acknowledged to himself long ago that her spiritual powers were something to contend with. But when it came to this…she had been helpless, and outmatched. He had taken without asking.
You only took what was offered.
He was immediately disturbed by the thought: of how the sanctity of the inner recesses of his mind seemed to crave an excuse for what he had done…for what he had been about to do…After all, she’d had no real choice in the matter. Much of the control he had regained through battle was already slipping through his fingers, like pale smoke, as he began to brood.
In a quick shunpo, he acrobatically re-entered Inoue-san’s home through her window, involuntarily approaching the young woman. Things needed to be said, and he would not put off the inevitable any longer than he had to. He was not one to mince words, even if he now had trouble summoning them to his lips. They needed closure…if nothing else.
She slammed into him unexpectedly, causing his breath to escape in a rush. Obviously, she had not anticipated his return. The sound of rushing water, coupled with the steam escaping her room of bathing, allied his suspicions. It seemed she was mere moments away from having that bath she had mentioned earlier. Despite the fabric of terry cloth against his skin, he could feel her soft curves press against him, still wet from their earlier activities. It nearly made him groan. Though whether the sound was born out of frustration or…tension…he was unsure. Instead, he closed his eyes in an agonized gesture, and gently guided her a step away from his person.
This effectively boxed her in against the sliding door of her linen closet, something that Orihime did not fail to take note of. She felt more than a little frazzled. She should have noticed his reiatsu before barreling into him. It just went to show how distracted she was. Embarrassment lent a flush to her cheeks, and the crimson blush spread down her flesh and left goose bumps in its wake.
“Uh…welcome back?” Her voice cracked, making them both cringe. He didn’t reply: simply studying her, at a loss for what to do. What to say. The tub will be full soon. Her thought came unbidden. But that came as no surprise. Orihime knew she was random. Tatsuki reminded her daily. That was expected. But this…was anything but. What do I say?...C’mon, Inoue, THINK!
“I’m glad you’re feeling better!” She babbled abruptly. He stared, unmoving, his arms still braced on either side of her. Leaving her still feeling caged in. “Did you—did you change your mind about your shihakusho? I mean, I know you came back for your scarf, too, since it’s so expense and all. But I can still try and get some of the blood out…I just…I need to bathe first…I’m feeling a little…dirty…after…After that” She made a vague gesture, flicking her wrist. As if that gesture alone could sum up what it was they had done. He continued to stare. But his normally implacable expression looked slightly incredulous.
“…You feel dirty…”he intoned. She nodded emphatically; relieved he had actually spoken. Even if he had only parroted what she said back to her. It didn’t escape his notice that she was shivering despite the heat. He attributed it to nerves. The Taicho of Rokubantai wasn’t wrong. Orihime was beginning to feel like a bundle of nerves. Earlier they had…had intimate relations, and he had disappeared. Granted, it had been to take care of a hollow. All the better to protect the citizens of Karakura. She knew that. Heck, she approved of it. What was more, it left little possibility for Kurosaki-kun to happen by and get the wrong idea about…well, whatever the heck this was. Though she would admit that she had initially feared that Kuchiki Taicho had left out of disgust.
Thank Kami her initial assumption had been wrong! But that still left the current problem of his close proximity and the perplexing look on his face. She would never say so aloud, but she had on occasion thought that Kuchiki-can’s older brother was a bit emotionally constipated. He rarely showed emotion. Even when his sister had been wrongfully convicted and been given an excessive sentence, he hadn’t batted an eye until the end. He had been fatally injured by the time he had finally sought to save his sister; as if the senselessness of his inaction up until that point had literally been beaten into him by Kurosaki-kun earlier. In fact, had they not…participated…in certain activities , she might have assumed he existed without any real passion in his day-to-day life. Afterlife. Whatever you might call the life of a shinnigami. Obviously, that had been put to rest. Her head was swimming, wondering what it was he now wanted. He was just standing there. Standing there half naked with his muscles slicked with sweat and…
“Oh, well, you know…”Her voice trailed away, for once at a loss for words. His smoky eyes flickered, almost appraisingly. She felt her mouth run dry for a second time that night, unsuccessfully trying to be discreet as she tried to effectively block her generous chest from view. The towels were beginning to slip from her grasp. Just like the subject at hand. Just what IS the subject? Her subconscious remarked snidely. She chose to ignore that one, determined to press on. She was imagining things. Of course he wasn’t checking her out. The aphrodisiac was out of his system by this point…His eyes had cleared, and he had obviously taken care of the hollow. So he was fine. It was fine. This would all be forgotten. Put behind them.
Wouldn’t it?
Byakuya felt a spike of anger at her words: at the careless choice of them. He could understand if she chose to rail at him; screamed, cried and demanded he leave her presence. Instead she was brushing it all off. As though her innocence had not just been compromised by the head of a Noble family at the behest of an Arrancar’s toxin. She acted dismissive toward the whole situation. Her complacency astounded him. And it enraged him. He was angry with himself, with the whole situation. The embers of his self-loathing that had cooled now fanned into a blaze on her behalf: for allowing herself to be so callously used by others.
It didn’t bother her in the least that she was taken for granted by the Kurosaki-brat everyone but him seemed to worship. Even if the boy was not without honor, and ignorant of how his actions affected her, that was no excuse. She hadn’t flinched when she had been captured by Aizen, though admittedly all danced through the bastard’s treacherous manipulation. And now she had been used by him, a Noble of house Kuchiki, and chose to hold no grudge or injury at the transgression. In fact, she almost appeared to welcome and expect it. It was unacceptable. She deserved better.
Unaware of his darkening thoughts and the path they had taken, Orihime ducked beneath his arm, seeking sanctuary in the steaming bathroom beyond. The tub was definitely full by now. It might even now be under threat of over-flowing. She was tugged from her thoughts as towels clutched in her hands were yanked from her arms. Shocked, she grappled with the faded corner of a vaguely yellow towel, managing to hold up the fabric and cover the view of her chest without having to make actual contact. Byakuya continued to hold the other end, the others lying discarded around them on the floor in bright bundles of cloth.
“Is that all?” His voice, normally a rich velvet, sounded rough. Like the fabric of it sheathed crushed glass; perilous beneath the surface.

“What?” It came out as more of a squeak. She wanted to get to the dang bathroom already. She wasn’t ready for this confrontation. She wanted a few hours to herself. She needed to clean up and, under the guise of that familiar activity, soothe her whirling mind as it spun through all that had happened. She was a virgin…but not really an innocent. Not like the connotation the word would suggest. Not any more. She was having trouble wrapping her head around it. Did that make her a partial virgin? On the precipice between naïveté and forbidden knowledge?

“You said that you feel dirty…”The roughening timbre of his voice ended in a sibilant hiss: like oil over silk. It washed over her, painting across her flesh to leave goose bumps in its wake.

She winced, realizing he was pissed. What’s he so mad about? Does he want me to apologize? She worried her bottom lip frantically. His eyes darkened, fastening on the delicious movement.

“I’m sorry, but I am! I’m filthy!” She tugged at the once-banana-hued terry cloth, frantic for escape.

“Why are you running?” She wasn’t imagining it. He was pissed.
“I’m not running!” she denied, darting past.
Her tore the yellow towel from her hands. It slipped away like butter, leaving her hands to flutter desperately. He then reached and seized her wrists, gathering them into one hand before spinning her around so that her back was pressed against his chest. The skirt, her only remaining article of clothing, stuck to them in a tangle of polyester. The combined sweat of their bodies kept the fabric in place. She emitted a squeak, losing her breath as he growled into the delicate shell of her ear.
“You. Are. Running.” It was an accusation, yet her heart leapt into her throat at the promise suggested in his tone. Or was it a threat? He easily wrestled her to the bathroom, steam curling about their twisted limbs as it occurred to the girl that she ought to struggle. Water spilling from the tub cascaded over it sides, reaching past the tiles for the drain in the middle of the floor. The towel fell to the ground and began to darken to ochre as water seeped its way through the cloth. The darkening color of the fabric quickened once Orihime’s knees descended and crushed it further onto the floor.
“Wh—what are you doing?” He paused, as if weighing the question for the first time. As though his actions had not fully crossed his mind until that moment. She nearly let out a breath of relief, but choked when his moment of collection ended. The ties of his hakama came apart like butter by the practiced movement of his hand. He leaned over her then, crouching over her hot flesh, forcing her down. The back of her thighs were touching his own.
“I should ask you the same question” It was grated against the back of her neck.
She swallowed reflexively, words bubbling up past her throat only to bottleneck at her mouth, “T—taicho…!” Water continued to stream across the tiles of the floor. It felt warm, like the blood pulsing beneath her hot and sticky skin. Her heart gave a deep lurch at the feel of him: his hand smoothly caressing over her hip, now rapidly descending toward her sinfully damp curls. He plucked at a beading nipple, causing her delicate flesh to becoming ridged with want. With need. It left her tense and bewildered, and she struggled against his steel grip.
“You’re far from being filthy enough,” he murmured roughly. Fingers then stroked her center, staggering her with a spiraling pleasure that left her trying to swallow back the sounds it caused. Fire licked along her veins in a dizzying rush of desire, and the blossom of yearning once again began to grow. It coiled within her, tighter until it became a spiraling ache. Oh, Kami! She was so close…! His hands slipped away, quick as water. The tearing scream of dampened fabric announced her skirt’s demise.
The sudden absence left her shaken, trembling in the wake of being touched.
She opened her eyes so fast they watered. When had she even closed them? A dull sort of agony was eating away at her veins from within, making her desperate. Why had he stopped? She had been close…so unbearably close to that delicious precipice…! Her thoughts were erratic; scattered like koma jumbled up all wrong on a Go board.
A confusing mishmash of excitement and adrenaline nearly blinded her to feel of his returning hands, passionately grasping her hips before fitting his thick length at her entrance. Orihime hardly had time to draw in a shallow breath as his shaft began to penetrate, inch by glorious inch. It took all she had not to scream.
“T—Taicho…B…Byakuya!” Her voiced sounded raw even to her own ears. He barely paused at the use of his name. Deceptively gentle fingers fondled a breast, coaxing out a whimper.
“Again!” His voice was iron. Roughened with emotion as he slipped further into her welcoming warmth. The strength of his touch increased, and her heaving breasts shook at the feel of him.
“Wha---?” The feel of his agonizingly slow thrust urged her other senses beneath a sort of overwhelming haze. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe…!
“Say my name.” It was murmured hotly behind her ear. Numb with shock, she complied on a reflex.
“Byakuya…sam—“ She couldn’t finish. A sound came from his throat then, and with a final lurch he was seated fully inside her. Those beautiful, terrible hands were stroking over her fevered skin, pushing her toward that pleasurable cliff that beckoned with sweet release. The rhythm was hesitant at first, a sheer suggestion that hinted at the depth of control the Taicho of the Rokubantai still maintained over his facilities. But as Orihime’s shallow breathing began to keen into passionate whimpers, a true beast became unleashed. His vacillating pace gave way to a pulsing regularity of strength and frenetic lust.
He pounded away into her welcoming cunt, a quiet fury burning at the back of his mind. He hadn’t known exactly why he reacted the way he had. Byakuya had only meant to return to the girl in order to dispel any thoughts on her part of divulging what had happened. But when he had seen her: thoroughly covered in the arousing evidence of their recent activities, and merrily dismissive of the entire ordeal, had kindled a sort of fury. A selfish part of him had wanted her to face that truth, if for no other reason than to acknowledge its occurrence. It had been decades since he had touched a woman, drug-induced or no. And to have her not only deny the incidence, but happily move beyond it so much as a tatami mat welcomed being stepped upon…He had lost his barely-attained control.
He wanted Orihime Inoue. Perhaps for unclear reasons that did not extend beyond an initial aphrodisiac’s influence. But that did not change the fact that he wanted her; more importantly, he wanted her to face herself. To face the fact that she was so readily and even easily used by others: from the ignorant blunders of the Kurosaki boy, to the mechanistic schemes of fellow shinnigami. It had even extended of late to the lowly manipulations of the traitor, Aizen. She had taken it all in stride and seemed to have even begged for more.
He was angry with her; angry with himself: enraged that she would so easily give in and give up. She was capable of being so much stronger than that; a woman with untested mettle. A small piece of his vanity could attribute to his current actions in forcing her…. It was a contradiction: to want her to stand up for herself, to yearn for her to fight, while suppressing any such actual ability by giving in to his own carnal hunger. A thread of his sanity, which still lingered beneath, was aware of that hypocrisy. But he couldn’t stop. It was selfish on his part, and perhaps even incredibly cruel. But that line of reasoning had fled, and with it all logical thought when faced with the idea—with the possibility— that she felt filthy after their near coupling when he himself had felt nothing but desire.
A muffled shriek came from Inoue’s lips, signaling her release She had dropped to her arms, fatigue sapping her strength. Her voluptuous derriere became more vulnerable to Byakuya’s attentions. He grit his teeth at the sight before him, striving to hold back even as he felt her hot and pulsing quim squeezing his cock. Ridged with control, he gingerly turned Orihime on to her back to be viewed in all her glory. Her body was rich of liquid, beading along her beautiful skin. Her normally lovely hair was a mess of unruly knots, and her chest heaved in exhaustion. But it was only the beginning.

A/N: I know, not nearly long enough. But I’m a whore for reviews…and wouldn’t mind hearing everyone’s opinion on this. Apologies if Byakuya sounded a little OOC…I have plans, I swear (not just sweaty, kinky ones)…If it’s any consolation, I have a complete outline for chapters 3 and 4.

Review Replies:

Kain: I will do my best! Thank you for reading and reviewing!! People usually skip the latter…
Raymy: Thanks very much! Hope I covered Byakuya’s thoughts well enough in this chapter. Glad you think Orihime was in character—even down to her food choices. Truth be told, the meal I described is really quite delicious in reality. I know it sounds utterly strange (and maybe a bit unappetizing) but I SWEAR it’s good. Anyhow, I hope to continue this, though the updates may take time since I don’t want to look back on this fanfiction and cringe (at the syntax…I’ll never be embarrassed by the context ::wink wink::)
Lilibet: Thank you! I’ll be sure to keep the temperature up, Madam!
RukiaTheCat: Thanks—so glad you like it!! I like the idea of them, too…opposites attract, right? Besides, Byakuya’s wife seemed really sweet and well-meaning, even if she made some mistakes (according to the flashbacks, at any rate) so I like to think Orihime shares the same temperament…and her randomness along with her unpredictability would still manage to keep him on his toes. I will of course add more—just please keep reading and reviewing! Also, thanks for reassuring me with Renji and the Coffee. Totally made me smile—I missed that episode. Shame on me. At least someone awesome like you clued me in on it, though!
BlueDragon: Wow! Thank you so much for the carefully constructed review! I really appreciate it! Yes, Kuchiki-sama and Inoue-san inhabit completely different worlds, in more ways than one. Still, the sappy, hopeful romantic in me likes to think that they would be a good match. And come on: according to Byakuya’s character profile, he likes spicy food. Hummus can be spicy…::wink:: Admittedly my best friend and her boyfriend made me eat this once, and at the time I thought they were insane. But it’s wonderful! In any case, I can see your point. I’ll be certain not to make him an automaton that likes any old thing she might whip up in later chapters.

Happy you didn’t notice any syntactical errors—I stressed quite a bit over that. But let me know if you ever do spot anything so I can correct it post haste.

Also glad you liked the smuggling of my alter-ego into the story. And naughty things to Byakuya? In my mind? Always! In this case it was a roundabout way of playing out my fantasy in being Cupid for this couple. Sort of. I mean, if I were a real OC I’d really rather not die in the attempted orchestration. Lol
Thank you for the support! Please keep reading and reviewing!
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Heat Of The Night