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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. Wholesome folks will rejoice.

WARNING: Some flashback, non/dub-con. Why? Because I can. And you like it. So there.

Flustered didn't begin to describe how she felt. Undeniably embarrassed, maybe. Unutterably horrified might also scratch the surface.

"Inoue-san?" That was Rukia's voice.

Things just kept going from bad to worse. Plastering a fake smile on her face, she stammered out a greeting, wondering why oh WHY she couldn't have had the sense to head to a clinic the next town over. She just hadn't been thinking. Clearly, her brain had melted. Might be running out my ears…out of every orfice…

"Kurosaki-kun! Hi! And Rukia-chan! What a nice surprise! Twice in one day…"She laughed nervously, wishing she could die on the spot. "May I come in…?" Ichigo scratched his head, perplexed, but stepped aside to allow her entry nonetheless.

"Yeah…sure…What's up? Somethin' going down…?" She flushed, his words reminding her of a different scenario that involved 'going down'. Gah! Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, Inoue!

"No—ah, what makes you say that?" He gave her a strange look, one closely mirrored by Byakua's sister.

"Well, you just mentioned that you'd seen Rukia earlier…I just figured that meant something might have happened," he shrugged, arms akimbo, "…or maybe it's just girl stuff. I don't know….just thought I'd ask." He scratched his rust colored hair, clearly uncomfortable. Rukia smiled, but Orihime noticed with trepidation that it didn't quite reach her cobalt eyes.

"Yes, the latter. Just 'girl stuff' Ichigo." Orhime nearly wilted under the heat of Rukia's look. Ichigo was oblivious to the whole exchange.

"So, ah, what was it that you wanted, Inoue?" Orihime cringed. Crude. No way am I asking…for that. Stupid as it was, it hadn't occurred to her that Ichigo might still be home. Nor his sisters, Yuzu and Karin. It was a small mercy the latter didn't seem to be home. The thought of the younger Kurosaki siblings discovering her…awkward situation made her flesh run cold. Had it only been his father, she might have been able to cook up something. Some half-baked excuse. Pretend she was getting the pill for some unfortunate friend. If all else failed, he at the very least would be restricted to typical doctor and patient confidentiality. Ichigo's warm, cinnamon eyes continued to stare down at her, a scowl etched upon his otherwise bemused features.

"I just wanted to ask you about Ochi-Sensei's latest art assignment…" The tightening of his brows relaxed, sudden tension leaving his frame.

"Oh…that all?"

"On a Saturday?" Rukia cut in sharply. Orihime smiled back winningly, patting her head as she chirruped out a laugh, and it sounded like water splashing over flower petals.

"Well I wanted to get a head start on it, but didn't want to get too far ahead, in case I got the whole thing wrong. Tatsuki has never let me forget about botching that 'future me' art assignment." Her heart ached at the lie. Ichigo's expression soured a bit, though he did manage a well-meaning grin.

"Yeah…I gotcha. I think this time we're supposed to illustrate our 'true selves.' how we view ourselves as well as how we want to be seen, I guess…"

She bobbed her head, strangely more at ease the further she slipped beneath the veneer of her happy-go-lucky mask. Fake it 'til you make it…that's what Sora used to say…Her gut twisted at the thought. Not wishing to dwell on her brother, for fear of wondering what he might have to say about her poor choices of late, she pushed herself back into the present.

"And it doesn't matter what medium we use this time, right? " He seemed taken aback by the question. Rukia, meanwhile, softly placed her empty glass within the sink and quietly moved closer to her companions. Her gaze hardly flickered from Orihime, studying her every gesticulation as if trying to decipher some other hidden meaning. Orihime found it unnerving, and she fought to keep from chewing her bottom lip.

"Uh, actually, she requested we use colored pencils. Nothin' too fancy—"

"Oh! I'm so glad I checked with you, Kurosaki-kun! I really need to go out and buy some, then. And to think I almost used oil pastels!" She pirouetted delicately out the door and affected a polite bow once upon the step. "Thanks so much, Kurosaki-kun! Bye Rukia-chan! I'll see you both Monday!" They watched her go, a mixture of droll bemusement and suspicion mired between the two.

"I don't quite believe that was the real reason for her visit." Her tone was velvet, contemplative. She was reticent to voice her complete opinion on the matter, lest she jump to the wrong conclusion. She had no desire to instigate the substitute-shinigami, as he had a penchant for taking action first and asking questions later. That, coupled with what she suspected…Rukia sighed. It would not end well. Best to get the facts straight, first.

"What makes you say that?" She smiled, deciding for the moment to keep her cards close to the chest. At least until she had some questions answered. Before Ichigo went gallivanting through Karakura Town, making a complete and utter mess based on a mere hunch.

"Woman's intuition." she intoned smugly, before slipping like a cat back into the kitchen in search of a snack.

She pushed the wide hood of her sweater further over her head, her fingers knotting into the fabric of the sleeves as she tried to disappear in to the vast fabric. It was easily twice her size, and in fact had already seen ownership. While Orihime was fully capable of hemming in the cloth to make it fit properly, she didn't have the heart to unabashedly change something of Sora's. It was one of few items of his she had actually kept. It wasn't a particularly attractive piece of clothing, and in fact had been buried in the back of Sora's closet for most of its life. She had only ever worn it about the house, especially on chilly evenings when in need of being extra cozy.

In fact, it was a bit too thick for this type of weather. So much so, that she was receiving a few strange looks from other passengers on the subway. While it wasn't quite as hot as yesterday, it still wasn't exactly sweater weather. Still, at least she had an excuse for sunglasses. Feeling them slide down her nose, Orihime pushed them back up, biting her lip and pretending not to notice any undue attention. She should have done this in the first place: booked an appointment for a different clinic in downtown Tokyo. She could only chalk up her blunder in running straight to Kurosaki-kun's family clinic as force of habit. And maybe naive stupidity. Her judgment hadn't exactly been stellar lately.

The subway car lurched to a stop, and Orihime brushed through the crowd of people emptying through the doors. She kept her head down, trying not to make direct eye contact with anyone. She was, of course, being ridiculous. There was no way she could run into anyone she knew in this part of town. She was being overly cautious, and she knew it. Still, Orihime felt she had the right to feel a little paranoid. Lucky she had been quick-witted enough to ask about Misato Ochi-sensei's art assignment rather than be caught out.

She made her way through the human traffic, making her way up and into the light on the street where she tried to blend in with the other pedestrians. Unwillingly, she felt her mind drift to the homework assignment. Her 'true self'…she frowned, eyes alighting on the impressive buildings around choking the sky as she mulled it over. At present, she figured her 'true self' was probably best illustrated as a super heroine…or rather, a heroine whose super-suit was torn, thus making her vulnerable. To top it off, it would probably also have to depict her trussed up to a chair or something by the arch villain.

She frowned, forehead crinkling as her fingers once again rescued her sunglasses from falling. That's all she really was these days…or at least how she felt. Demi-god powers or not, she was more of a victim than the heroine she played at becoming. Suddenly realizing where she was, Orhime paused on the sidewalk. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, and walked heavily through the clinic door.

The gentle scrape of his brush, laden with rich ink, was a hypnotic sound as he rhythmically plied it against the thick parchment. It soothed him; the practiced motions of his calligraphy as water rippled and blades of grass breathed from the garden outside. Light flickered, sun-birthed shadows of the roving plants brushing against the delicate paper of his window in quiet harmony. He drank it all in, willing the peacefulness of his surroundings to well up around him and embrace his presence as it so often did. He sighed, laying aside his brush. It was to no avail. His tumultuous mind rebelled at every turn. Never had he felt so unhinged. While he had once regained a semblance of previous iron will, the truth of the matter was that it failed to feel the same. Where once he had retained ridged control, his resolve had been shattered, aided by an Arrancar's poisonous aphrodisiac. Where once unbroken, there were now cracks; shards still beneath his very skin. He could feel them. For how else could he explain the absence of his once unshakeable countenance?

While the staff and other members of the household had been unable to perceive such a thing since his return, others would soon not fail to notice. Yoruichi came to mind. The woman was infuriatingly perceptive, especially in regards to his person. He was ashamed of what he had done. Ashamed for giving in. And yet…

He arose from his desk, unable to find any interest in continuing the unsuccessful distraction.

He did not regret his actions completely. It had almost been a relief: giving in to a feeling he had honestly feared lost. Fearing it had been buried beside the woman he loved. Since Rukia's near death sentence, caused in part by his own hand, he had been struck by how detached he had become to the world around him. How many emotions had he locked up, only for them to feel as though they had eroded away entirely? Apprehension had tread beside him for some time since then; worrying that he had become a shell of the man he once was. In the months following, he willfully tried to accept this fate, telling himself that emotions were an unnecessary distraction, and that he had not lost sight of true justice. After all, he had protected Rukia, as his conscience (and the annoying Kurosaki boy) had bade, in the end.

But this was a lie he had been loathe to swallow. Perhaps that was why it had not seemed unusual for him to take that fateful walk in the world of the living. He often took long walks to clear his head, and save for the noted absence of Senbonzakura, it had initially been no different. At least until Alma Gemela had fell upon him, and proved that the fates or the Kami or whomever laughed from the heavens above thought that destiny should think irony was funny in their twisted humor.

He could not confidently say that he now loved another. He was not incapable of the emotion; he was more than capable of a lot of things. He lusted, but he barely knew Orihime Inoue as a person. As it was, he intended to know her more, if for no other reason than to satiate the curiosity he now felt towards her person. True, it was not unlikely that the aphrodisiac had simply driven him to bed any female within his immediate proximity, as had been intended by its maker. Inoue had indeed been convenient. Yet he suspected there was more to it than that. Buried deep within the recesses of his mind, he might admit to feeling a stirring attraction for the girl. Faint, but present; much like writing in the sand. She had remained, until thus far, beneath his general notice. Due to her youthful exuberance and obvious admiration for the substitute shinigami whelp, he had not sought to deepen any sort of connection he might have felt with her, physical or otherwise. She had been easy to ignore, and any male interest on his part was unlikely to have ever been explored up to this point. Inoue-san had been meant to remain ignorant, had time taken its natural course.

But providence proved to have other plans. While grateful to have once more be put in touch with sensations nearly forgotten—anger, passion, raw need…his mind now felt overwhelmed by their presence; by things so long ago forgotten. She also occupied his thoughts. Even now, he uncomfortably recalled how he had used the ochre towel to tie her wrists together. She had seemed dizzy, overwhelmed in a haze of fatigue or lust…perhaps both, as he knotted the thick terrycloth together, effectively imprisoning half her limbs.

He covered her mouth with his own, drinking her in, rough hands smoothing across her slick skin. She gasped at the motion, and he took the opportunity to plunder her mouth with his tongue, abruptly capturing her breasts in a steel grip. He then mounted her, craving to plunder the other delightful crevices her body offered other than her sweet mouth. He broke the kiss, moving up her torso with a skillful twist of his hips as he penetrated between the twin globes of glorious flesh for a second time that night. She panted beneath him, surprise evident on her glossy features.. He stuttered to a halt at the feel of a tentative, hot pink tongue venturing across the head of his flesh.

In a forceful motion, he flipped her tied wrists so that they were twined about his neck, trapping her against his muscular form. He kissed her again, her chest crushed flush against his own as his member sought her sweet entrance below…

His eyes flickered, taking in his surroundings once more, seeking to brush away the feeling of her shadow from his mind. A tension had taken hold of his body, a deepening ache that threatened arousal, and it gave him pause. Before any move could be made, should he contemplate the making of one, it would be best to assess everything laid bare to circumstance. Before he sought the girl again, for whatever reason, it was best he take stock of his individual self. Alma Gemela's affect on his physical being was perhaps not entirely gone; indeed, it had not even been determined what the poisonous compound actually was. Inoue-san herself had been unable to erase the effects, once it had taken root within his blood.

He massaged the area between his eyes warily, sighing once more. An unusual occurrence. Perhaps, he thought quietly, a visit to Unohana Taicho would not be remiss. It would be best if he were aware exactly what type of toxins had been introduced within his body, and to learn whether its influence had dissipated. Or even merely become dormant. Once he had all the answers, only then could he make his next move concerning his…tentative paramour.

"Name?"

"Ah…I—Inoue, Orihime." That earned her a look. But as to whether it was in concern of her first name being an alias or the fact that she stuttered, she wasn't really sure.

"Okay. Go ahead and take a seat, Inoue-san. I'll just need you to fill this out." She handed over a clear, plastic clipboard replete with intimidating paperwork. Orihime hastily fished for a pen from the cup set on the front counter and retreated to find a seat. The clinic had a clean, antiseptic smell she came to associate with her dentist's office. It was probably due to the fact that they used the same brand of cleaner, or perhaps because she hadn't been this nervous with her stomach doing summersaults since she'd had a root canal last summer. She shifted around, trying to get comfortable, her hands strangely feeling clammy despite the warm temperatures outdoors and in.

She filled out her name, skating over the insurance section. She had enough money to pay for the pill on her own. She was under her aunt's health insurance, but refused to write down the information. She in no way, shape, or form wanted her aunt getting wind of the nature of this visit. It was likely she would cut her off financially, and would be left to fend for herself. The likelihood of that predicament was much more expensive than simply paying out of pocket now. Nodding to herself, Orihime began filling out her address. Next came the medical history, which gave her pause.

When was her last pap smear? Biting her lip, she skipped to the next question. Did her family have a history of breast cancer? Cysts…? She had no idea. From what little Sora had spoken of their parents, she knew next to nothing about them. Let alone anything concerning their medical records. It was likely her aunt knew, but that was an awkward conversation best left for another time. Her sudden interest in the matter would lead to uncomfortable questions, and she was in no way prepared to answer them. She quietly filled out the paperwork as best she could, the dull scratch of her pen scraping away against the paper in testament to the reality crashing down around her. She stood up, anxiously toddling over to the clinic window to hand over the clipboard and return the pen to its haven. The receptionist nodded to her, graciously taking the proffered item in indication that she could retake her seat. Orihime sighed, filling in the silence as seconds, then minutes, ticked slowly by…

"Might I enquire as to what you were doing in the area?" A level stare was her answer, making Isane shift uncomfortably. "It's not that I'm curious or anything, Kuchiki Taicho…Unohana Taicho has simply included it on this questionnaire, to better gauge the extent of this Arrancar's abilities…you, uh, mentioned that she had claimed you answered her summons…" Damn. Why was he even here? Didn't Kuchiki-sama's family have its own private set of healer's? Why bother with Yonbantai at all…? The clearing of her patient's throat nearly threw her off, momentarily startling her as he deigned to answer.

"She claimed as such. Given that I am partial to long walks, the credence was initially dismissed…"

"Initially? Do you mean because you later realized Senbonzakura had been left behind…?" she had to bite her bottom lip, aware that he might be incensed for having been interrupted. He merely inclined his head, prompting her to hurriedly scribble down the response. It was more so to avoid eye contact that provide any additional details. She found his calculating stare unnerving, and wished—not for the first time—for her captain to hurry. As if in answer to her prayers, The paper door slid open, allowing Unohana Taicho to slip into the room. Her calming countenance was a balm to Isane's poor nerves, and she barely escaped the urge to skitter toward the woman in relief.

"Kuchiki Taicho, how nice to see you. But you will forgive me for inquiring why it is you would request Yonbantai's services in place of the Kuchiki clan's own medical staff." He stiffened in response to her direct, albeit abrupt question. But if he wanted any answers, he knew he ought to provide honest ones in turn. Unohana Taicho was one of few who could not be intimidated, given her history. He knew little of the woman, but recognized immense strength of character when in its presence. It would not do to be purposely obtuse, not if doing so would cost him any knowledge she might possess.

"It was by my judgment deemed unnecessary to alarm any within my house of the matter. It is in the best interest of my clan to seek the best available treatment in the Seireitei and forgo any misunderstandings that may arise later on."

"I see," she murmured quietly. See? See what? Isane wished she understood what the small nuances of speech exchanged between the two captains really meant. That Kuchiki-sama had used flattery in his sentiments had been obvious, but as to why he chose their services over his own resources remained glaringly unclear to Isane. From what she knew, his prestigious wealth and family name allowed him access to nearly anything, including a highly capable private medical staff. She felt a bit dense, as though she weren't catching on to something. Hiding a sigh, she observed her superiors as they measured one another, and their words, carefully.

"Kotetsu Fukutaicho, I would like you to leave the room for a moment." She bit her lip again, trying to hide her surprise at being dismissed so unexpectedly. She turned to leave, but hesitated upon hearing the soft knell of her captain's voice once more, "Please leave those documents behind." She nodded, stomach knotting in apprehension, as she handed over the patient's questionnaire before she finally turned to leave. Unohana Taicho waited a few moments, coolly placing the paperwork aside. Her knowing eyes downcast as they listened to the soft patter of Isane's footsteps fading away down the hall.

"I assume you wish for there to be no record," she did not bother to raise her eyes, choosing instead to shuffle the papers into some semblance of order. He nodded, slowly, appreciative of her astute perception. "I can only presume that you have no desire for your…condition…to be known." It remained unsaid as to why; that a paramour might subsequently be involved as a result of his situation. While unlikely, the pregnant silence that followed her sentiment confirmed her own suspicions. A third party was involved, or else Byakuya Kuchiki would have little need for secrecy.

His romantic history was well known: spoken in darkened corners and in hushed whispers. His family had not been appreciative of the affair—of his marriage to a commoner. Given his current choice of action, the woman now involved probably embodied the same threat of shaming his house. Unohana wisely expressed nothing. Whatever matters involving the Kuchiki clan and it's 28th head of the family had nothing to do with her, and would remain so. It was none of her business as it did not endanger any within the Soul Society. Should that change, however, she would not hesitate to act. Nobility, after all, was renowned for achieving its ends through ambitious and sometimes vicious agenda…If rumors were to be believed, of course. She pressed on, content to monitor her patient as she attempted to piece together the correct conclusions beyond sheer assumptions.

"I expect you have questions." She folded her hands, waiting.

"Is it still present?" The rough timbre of his voice gave away that he was not unaffected by this possibility. She shook her head pityingly.

"I regret to inform you that it is in a latent state. It is highly probable to be less potent than initially experienced, especially as the toxin was introduced only once, and during adrenaline-heavy conditions."

"Are you suggesting that it will not stay suppressed?"

"I am suggesting that a reoccurrence is very likely. Your blood test results advocate risk of repetitive settings; the toxin responds to its physiological environment. If there is an increase in adrenaline brought on by emotional stress, a hormonal response may very well trigger another…episode."

"I see." Silence fell once more, unbroken save for the rustling sound of others moving throughout the halls, accompanied by murmured voices.

"So it is not a permanent condition?"

"No," she smiled softly, "it will wane in time. The more frequent the occurrence, the quicker it will run its course. At least, that it what I am lead to believe. It is an unusual compound…a pity the Arrancar who secreted it perished, else we could have run further tests to unearth the true nature of the aphrodisiac's composite form." She pressed on, pretending not to notice the sudden tension in his shoulders that spoke of his subtle discomfort. "Were there any further questions you might have that pertain to what we already know?"

"No." He arose, readying himself to leave. He answered too quickly. It was obvious something weighed on his mind in relation to the aphrodisiac, but was either too proud, or too embarrassed to voice it aloud. She had an inkling of where his concerns might lay. He was a man of disciplined character, and as a result repressed emotion often in order to wield logic and retain control. However, a mask donned too often had a habit of becoming the face.

"In any case, it is a purely a physiologically based toxin, and as such can elicit nothing beyond physical response." He paused at her words, seemingly struck, before resuming his stride. She knew he took her meaning: nothing emotional could be created by Alma Gemela's poison. He took his leave, quietly sliding the door home as he made to leave Yonbantai's facility. A quick pattering of feet announced Isane's arrival before she came in, carefully balancing a tea-leaden tray in one hand as she did.

"I, uh, brought an extra cup in case Kuchiki Taicho still remained…"

"That was very kind of you, Isane-san." Her heart warmed at the sound of her captain's use of her name. Usually Unohana Taicho was more formal when in company of her peers, which Isane understood very well. Especially when in the presence of nobility like Byakuya Kuchiki. It was no secret that he valued proper address, especially by those of lower station.

"We offered him what answers we could; the rest is up to him, now." Her captain hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of the deliciously brewed chamomile. Isane almost choked as she accidentally inhaled the steam from her cup, rather than blowing it away gently.

"The rest—? What do you…?" Unohana Taicho smiled at her assistant captain.

"He will sort out his emotions soon enough…This may very well have been beneficial for him."

"Uh…right…" For the second time that day, Isane didn't quite understand, which almost never happened. She was actually quite judicious, though today was not particularly evident of that. It was a bit frustrating. But, she reasoned as she sipped her tea, perchance she was out of touch of the situation involving Byakuya Kuchiki because she did not understand him in the most general of contexts. Whatever the gravity he experienced or faced, it rarely became public, save for the minor tendrils of gossip that might arise in the Seireitei from time to time. She hardly partook of such things, at any rate. He was a private man, and generally a mystery to all. She supposed she was content to leave it at that, and would try to forgive the bruise of her ego for feeling lost over what had transpired.

"I wonder…"Unohana Taicho murmured.

"Hm?" Isane carefully reached for another sip from her cup.

"Do you suppose Kuchiki Taicho would rather have a boy or a girl?" The idle remark caused Isane to spit out her tea.

She snagged the jar, nabbing it before she could change her mind. Next she marched to the produce, grabbing up some bananas as she booked it to the check out. Trying not to think, she waited to be rung up for her order before heading out. Hands once more laden with culinary luxuries, Orihime warily trudged back to her apartment. It had been, by far, one of her more humiliating experiences. At least up to this point. She wasn't quite sure what life might throw at her next. Evidently it was full of droll surprises. To the point where she would find if hard to scrounge up any surprise should Byakuya choose at that moment to leap from a bush. He hadn't been far from her thoughts all day. Even now she mildly wondered if he was feeling close to as fatigued as she felt. If for no other reason than for having run around in her head all day. She smiled wanly at her own joke.

She hefted a sigh, emotionally drained as she finally trudged up the stairs to her building The people at the clinic had been perfectly nice…but the entire experience had seemed surreal, somehow. For instance, shouldn't she be feeling different, somehow…? Other than ridiculously sore in her nether regions, that is. She thought that the fine line between being a virgin and a woman of experience were supposed to…well…mean something. Based on her literary diet that contained the occasional shojo manga and romance novel binge, she assumed that the physical act of sex and the emotion of love were one and the same. That the expression 'making love' truly meant what the physical act would suggest. In reality, the one crashing down around her now, it was a bit more of a silly, sweaty affair. One where physical pain and pleasure seemed to coincide. It had definitely been…more intense…than she had expected. But her experience hadn't exactly been orthodox. Especially as it ended with her donning a conspicuous, hooded sweater in summer in order to drag her merry ass to a clinic so she could swallow a pill to keep from conceiving.

Wrestling momentarily with the keys, she let herself into the apartment, kicking off her shoes without putting down her victuals. Really, the sweater had been a bit much, in hindsight. But it had seemed perfect at the time. It had never been seen by any whom she knew, so would keep her from being easily recognizable by any and all acquaintance. And there was the fact that it had once belonged to Sora…the comfort of wearing a piece of his old clothing gave her the feeling of strength…At least the semblance of it. She would readily admit to having felt rather hollow instead. Strength was something she had so desperately needed on a day like this, where she felt as though she had swallowed a block of ice and her limbs felt wooden with tension. Maybe, she thought, throwing half the bananas into the freezer, maybe things will look brighter tomorrow.

A/N: Please read and review!

As a fun side note, there is in fact a comic wherein the super heroine regularly fails and gets captured by the villains. She has high hopes and higher ideals, but has the unfortunate disposition of working with fellow capes who are, quite frankly, douche bags. It starts out fairly wacky with short stories rather than a firm plot line, but it builds into a larger scheme complete with rich character development and reflections of societal shortcomings.

There's plenty of humor and tear-jerker moments. And did I mention the main character has a ninja for a best friend? And then there's a guy who cross dresses as a maid in order to fight crime. Gotta respect a guy who fights in high heels. Any way, the series is called 'Empowered' by Adam Warren, and it's published by Dark Horse. He has an artist page on deviantart (dotcom), if you're nosey like me and want to snoop around before dedicating yourself to buying something that comes shrink-wrapped (for having 'mature material'). I may have to beg a family member to ship it out to me here in Korea…I'll stop waxing shamelessly about it now…I just want to spread the love.
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Heat Of The Night