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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: Not mine and it never will be. However many stars I've wished on.

A/N: I had trouble accessing this site until recently. So there are quite a few chapters to upload. Please read and review!

The recent euphoria danced through Orihime's veins as she struggled to simply breathe, dizzy from her shattering orgasm. Her ears were literally ringing. Shallow puffs of air quickened past her lips, the humidity of the bath hampering her efforts. Her mind was still spinning; thoughts dully latching on to what they had done…and what it could mean. Even as they brushed across her mind, a firmer stroke from Byakuya's ridged length reminded her that the act itself hadn't technically been…consummated yet.

She uttered a groan.

Her eyes flickered up, scrambling through her haze to think up some way to request he cease, but the would-be-words died upon her tongue. All thoughts skittered away, like a flat stone over a pond, at the sight before her. Kuchiki Taicho was practically drenched from the mist of the bath, hair dampened into tangled curls that had long since escaped his kenseikan. His breath was deep and uneven, as though it took monumental effort to remain where he was. The movement drew her eyes to his lathered skin, shadows painted across its surface, highlighting the thick contours of muscle typically kept hidden by clothes. Her mouth ran dry at the sight. How many people had been privy to such a glorious view…?

Fire suddenly brushed along her nerves; the pad of his thumb brushing along her clit a shock. His cobalt eyes never left her, almost studious in his forbearance of appraisal. An embarrassing sound, halfway between a languorous mewl and a husky gasp, escaped from her throat. Orihime bit her lip, crushing her eyes shut in response to the demanding touches. She felt raw in wake of her previous pleasure, but the feelings he ignited within her flesh bordered finely along the edge of pain and gratuitous satisfaction.

The sweet touches became more lingering, growing in response to her quaking hips. Her skin was flushed beyond the reason of mere heat from the steaming bath. Yet as chagrined as she felt, Orihime helplessly gyrated against the delicious feelings Byakuya was giving her. He pounded into her, cunt his teeth gently rasping against her tender breast, carefully avoiding the sensitive areola. He ravaged her, and she whined at the denial of his lips against her ridged nipples. They were nearly painful in their quest for attention. Beyond frustrated, hardly realizing just exactly what it was she was doing, she combed her shaking fingers through his ebony hair and pressed his mouth against her left peak.

He groaned at her wanton little act of aggression, the sound vibrating against her previously neglected breast. She hiccupped out another arousing moan, little more than a seething mass of sensation at this point. She delicately scraped her nails, twining her fingers through soft tangled locks, egging him on.

She cried out as he unexpectedly unsheathed himself, twisting out of her grasp.

"Bya—Byaku—" She couldn't finish the utterance. His mouth arrested her own, his tongue sweeping past her teeth lay claim to the cavity. In a haze, she suckled his tongue, only for him to cruelly rip away once again.

Hands, roughened by decades of battle, smoothed along her wrists. The unexpected touch pulled her from the vaporous fog of her mind. She didn't struggle as she was lifted, perched precariously upon his lap. He slipped into her easily, though her breath became trapped in her lungs anyway. He gripped her toned thighs, encouraging her to ride him. It took her a moment to find the rhythm; her body a willing slave to his salacious ministrations.

Orihime groaned, though not unhappily. Okay, that may not be entirely true. She shoved her spoon deep into the peanut butter jar, once again scraping it out so that it was heavily burdened. Laden with the mouth-watering spread, she then jammed it into her mouth. Her filthy, dirty mouth…Byakuya's voice, rich with promise, burned through her subconscious: "you're far from being filthy enough…" She burned scarlet at the erotic, rebellious thought, wishing to swallow it down along with the peanut butter. Although not one of her more gracious habits, Orihime found comfort in eating straight from the jar.

But alas, swallowing down the rich, sticky substance was much easier in practice than the thoughts leaking from her now perverted mind. It had long since by-passed the gutter and now seemed content on swimming in the sewer. She wanted to blame Byakuya for this. Pretend that he had corrupted her in some way or other…but she resigned herself to the fact that he had made nothing flower that had not already long ago been seeded.

She was a healthy teenage girl, after all. Dirty thoughts were par for the course…she was just usually able to keep them well buried. And as much as she cavorted about, saying whatever innocently occurred to her only to slip past her tongue, she had always been particularly good at keeping a lid on the more intimate turnings of her mind. Until now. She felt like, at any moment, she would randomly blurt out preciously what was going on inside her head to the first person that came across her path. She quit liking the spoon. Up to this point, it had been a useful vehicle to deliver gratification to her mouth. Now, it was strangely reminding her of what she had oh so recently been liking…

Abruptly, she tossed it into the sink, amending that she would wash it later. She dug into a side drawer at the counter, hunting down a favored brand of chocolate. Her desire attained, she quickly tore the wrapper from the bar, jamming it into the peanut butter without penance. What she wouldn't give for an American Reece's Peanut Butter cup…but this was a good second.

A sharp rap on the door nearly made her choke. Grabbing the glass at her elbow, she hurriedly chugged down some water in an effort to clear her throat. Timidly, she relinquished her guilty treat and strode to the door. She had only just managed to peer through the peephole in order to discern who was on the other side when the door suddenly thumped open against her nose. Luckily, the motion had been more gentle and insistent than anything. So she was more surprised than anything else.

"Hey!" It still hadn't felt nice, though.

She rubbed the bruised cartilage, gingerly checking on the extent of the injury.

"Inoue-san! I'm so sorry!" Orihime froze as she recognized the velvet cadence of that voice, hardly daring to breathe as her friend continued,"… I had no idea you were so standing so close!"

"Rukia-chan," Orihime smiled nervously, fighting against the urge to bite the inside of her cheek. " Uh…how are you? What…uh…" Her nerves deserted her. She'd meant to ask why her friend had chosen to drop in for a visit so late at night; unexpectedly no less. Rukia's facial expression was smoothed over with concern, her large azure eyes taking everything in; every detail of every corner of the room. Orihime prayed her own person wouldn't be suspect to such scrutiny.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," she picked up the tenacious thread of conversation and wove in her own words, glossing over Orihime's obvious discomfort with manners instilled by the Kuchiki household. "I believe the custom here is for the host or hostess to open the door by way of greeting after a guest's arrival is announced. But I'm afraid my haste dissuaded me from employing this tradition, as I am a bit pressed for time. I believe there is a phrase which forgives this transgression, and is popular here in the world of the living. 'Some rules are made to be broken.'" Her smile was simple, but belied just how pleased she was. Though whether it was because she was able to understand a common human saying or that she'd had the opportunity to utilize its appropriate meaning remained to be seen.

"Oh…ah…that's ok. It's fine! At least you didn't come in through my window, Rukia-chan." Orihime's giggle sounded paper-thin to her own ears, but she was fairly certain Rukia wouldn't pick up on it. If there was one skill she didn't lack it was to fake being cheerful. Rukia's smile melted a bit, confusion bleeding through.

"You say that as if it would be unusual….I use Ichigo's rather habitually.…He has never mentioned it being abnormal." She muttered quietly. Orihime immediately felt stricken.

"No! I mean, it can be! It's just…most people use the front door. Um…you mentioned you were in a hurry…?" She wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. If ever there were a time she might be tempted to abuse her powers, now would be it. She desired nothing more than to escape this situation—and the odd look Rukia was giving her because of it.

"Right…"

Orihime swallowed reflexively, taking in the visage of her unanticipated guest. The air felt thick with the awkward silence, reminding the chagrined teen of the stifling heat endured in the night; the sweat on her brow now no more than a garment for the wrong occasion.

"In any case…I am looking for my brother. I traced his reiatsu to your accommodations; it's faint, but he was here some time ago. I suspect he was injured…Why are you looking at me like that?" Orihime began flapping her arms, gesticulating wildly as she frantically thought up an excuse for her current facial expression.

"Like what? I always look like this….hehehe…um….though it might be because I was thinking about dinner. Round two of hummus and peanut butter on toasted bread and lettuce…" She continued babbling like an idiot. It didn't escape her notice that Rukia's eyes flickered toward her current snack, no doubt coming to her own conclusions about Orihime's erratic behavior.

"That sounds…interesting. In any case, he is not here." She smiled warmly, though Orihime feared that it didn't reach her eyes. As though her thoughts were straying elsewhere, clever Kuchiki mind at work, putting together the pieces. Not good, not good, DEFINITELY NOT GOOD! "I assume you tended him, and I thank you for that." She either didn't notice or chose not to react on the faint strangled noise her friend emitted at that comment. "I will take my leave…If you see my brother, please do give him my regards. I wish to speak to him as soon as possible."

"Y-yes, you can count on me! I'll tell him…when—I mean if, I see him…" Orihime stumbled after the contemplative shinnigami, her fingers dancing nervously as she shut the door behind her retreating company. She brushed the hair from her face, biting her bottom lip in resignation. Well, I'm doomed. It had merely been a matter of time, really. Of course someone like Rukia would have figured out that he had stopped by eventually. She could hope and pray to every god she knew that the sister of her recent paramour didn't fit together a complete picture of the events as they had unfolded last night.

It had been a wet, dizzying rush of explosive, unpredictable events. Following the consummation of their physical coupling, the Taicho of Rokubantai had surprised her with a glimpse beyond his usual apathy and only recently revealed passion. With a tenderness seldom seen, he had bathed away the sweat brought on by their fairly athletic activities—down to intimately washing her auburn hair. She had awoken, still somewhat exhausted, within the crisp sheets of her futon the next morning. The cool morning air belied the truth of having been such a hot night hours before. But there had been no denying the soreness felt within her recently plundered body, down to the last aching sinew.

She spent the morning mooning about; raiding her cupboards for the perfect snack that didn't really exist. What she had really craved were answers. As there hadn't been any, she'd settled for red bean paste toast and instant coffee with soy milk, with a side of roasted leeks; remnants in part from a previous meal. This of course been followed by an emotional balm known as peanut butter, and then chocolate, before Rukia's impromptu interruption. She picked up her water, sipping it as she stared at the coffee dregs in her mug within the sink. The abandoned spoon idly lay alongside, judging her.

She nearly spit out her mouthful as it slowly occurred to her how close the brown of the abandoned lightened beverage mirrored the organic eggs at the nearby grocery store. Eggs…as in fertility. As in she was reminded of the distinct possibility of being pregnant. She needed a morning-after pill. Pronto. Heart in her throat, she tossed her remaining dishes into the sink, a rising nausea of spiking anxiety threatening the loss of brunch. In her haste, she jammed the lid of the peanut butter jar over its contents without bothering to store it away in the cupboard.

She all but ran out the door in her rush to the Kurosaki clinic.

She had stopped by to investigate; her brother had been a pretense. It was true that she had words for her brother, but that had not been the intent of her visit with Orihime. She had noticed something odd, notwithstanding the fact that Byakuya never left the Kuchiki grounds without Senbonzakura secure at his side. Something in his recently flaring reiatsu hinted at an irregularity, as though it had been layered and smothered over with something else. Decades spent in her brother's presence had taught her the importance of careful observation.

The guilt and nervous countenance sported by her friend had been a telling sign something was amiss. Perhaps she was being overly apprehensive, and overstepping her bounds in some ways. Inoue-san was, after all, a renowned healer for all the tasks she performed with her shun shun rikka. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, somehow…The concern she had felt now burrowed acutely beneath the surface, taking root in her mind. She did not wish to jump to conclusions, but Orihime's behavior—as well as her brother's—did merit further supposition.

A frown marring her pretty features, she easily climb the hill that led to Ichigo's house. She nearly ascended to his window, as was her habit, but stopped herself as she recalled Orihime's words. They had not been spoken unkindly, and in fact had been blurted out without thought due to distraction and nerves…but a grain of truth lay in them. Nibbling her bottom lip, she shrugged and let herself in through the door. Ichigo balked at her entrance, the toast in his mouth nearly falling from his lips in surprise.

"You—you used the door?" Rukia raised a finely arched brow.

"Technically, I walked through it." She supplied coolly. He shook his head, hastily removing the bread from his mouth as he chewed on a piece.

"Yeah, well…that's a first." He sighed, clicking off the small television at the counter as he returned his attention to the shinigami in his presence.

"Karin and Yuzu already left the house…so I assumed you'd just come in the usual way," he paused to take a swig of his orange juice, "and with the Old Goat at a conference…"

"How I choose to enter or leave a building while in this form is of no import," Rukia cut in smoothly, chagrined Orihime's comment—while spoken without artifice, had proven to be true. "Did you patrol Karakura last night?"

"Yeah…just the usual rounds. One or two hollows . Nothing exciting," he scowled in contemplation, "though I think Uryu was on the prowl, too. Got to a hollow before me. Wasn't too far from Inoue's…but I guess it doesn't matter." Rukia started at the information, suspect of the Quincy's actual involvement. More likely, it had something to do with Byakuya…even if such a trivial creature was usually beneath his notice. She filed that thought away for later, deciding to ply a bit more information from her friend as he poured her a bit of the citrus drink he himself indulged. She was rather fond of it, and admittedly missed it while back in the Soul Society.

"Did you come across him? Why do you suspect it was him?" He shrugged, handing her the glass, which she promptly sipped.

"Well, who else would it be? Not like it's Inoue's style, or Chad's. They don't go out looking for trouble. More like they step in if there's no other choice…Why? You think it was someone else?"

"Perhaps," she swirled her drink, swishing it before she took another sip and deigned to answer. "but I've no wish to jump to conclusions." Ichigo snorted, a rebuke on his tongue, before a sharp rap on the clinic door interrupted his would-be-words. Rukia paused, recognizing the prickle of reiatsu that shot through her nerves. No doubt Ichigo didn't notice. He was disturbingly too inept, or simply just uncaring, to develop that type of skill.

He padded to the door, surprise evident on his face as he answered it.

"Inoue-san? What brings you here?"
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Heat Of The Night