Make Me Feel | By : Zelha Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 4143 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Make Me Feel [EN]
The moon
was as alien as usual, so unlike the moon she knew from the real world. That
moon seemed to shine with a silvery glow, so peaceful, so romantic, so lovely. This moon was harsh, dull and unnatural, this
moon that made her remember her captor so much, her current and only companion
in her captivity.
She spent
too much time locked up in that cell, steadily getting close to that edge of
madness that was waiting for her; but she fought it with all she had when she
heard that indifferent voice, that unexpressive voice that scorned her,
humiliated her, but that also seemed to sound so lonely, calling for her.
That same
guardian, the Arrancar that kept his confusion at bay
when seeing that she refused all the proffered foods, letting herself die in
some sort of passive suicide. The woman was annoying, a nuisance... but he
couldn’t stop himself from seeing her, not because she was his charge, but
because... it was rather interesting to see her reactions.
Until the
moment he opened the door in his usual manner and
found her on the bed, passed out from the lack of nurturing. Her cheeks were
hollow and she had dark marks under
her eyes that denoted how little she rested, occupying herself in watching the
moon and crying because of her nakama’s fates and
well-beings.
This
concept was indeed very odd for him, as he couldn’t understand why a human
could fail to take care of themselves because of some worry, some anguish, some grief.
She had
repeated it to him several times, some of them patiently, some of others in
tears, some others in desperate yelling. When someone cares for another, the
interest for their well-being was going to be present always. And the sadness
that was felt when the other was down, it was called caring, too. And also the
shared joy when everybody was happy...
everything was but that, caring, love.
In the end,
he only concluded one thing: human emotions and feelings were more complex than
he first expected.
Thinking
about the best way to get her to eat without using his excessive strength
(because it was clear that the woman was fragile, but not frail), the Espada proceeded to make her react in the most practical
manner: lifting her in his arms and making her sit in a suitable anatomical
position to feed her.
She opened
her eyes with a sigh, muttering his name ever so lowly. This was rather strange
but he continued force-feeding her. Between bites, the woman seemed to take
conscience upon what was she doing -eating- and rejected the next fork full of
food.
“You need
to eat,” it was all he said.
She shook
her head obstinately and pressed her lips sealed. This, instead of annoying
him, surprised him. Even broken inside, full of fear and
something called anguish and practically near death because
of starvation, she kept adamant in her stubbornness.
“Why you
don’t want to eat?” he asked her again, waiting for a more elaborate answer now
that she seemed weak. She moved her lips complying, but no sound came out. He
had, then, to lean in his ear to her mouth to make out her fevered whispers.
“Because I
rather die that see everybody hurt...”
This was an
entire new concept. Self-sacrifice wasn’t contemplated among the myriad of
sentiments that she kept tied in a necklace around her neck. The stand up for
someone was understandable, but... dying for someone?
Then he
remembered that, if the case arose and the order came, he was more than pleased
to die for his creator and leader. Aizen-sama.
Truly, he
could process this concept much more easily than the others. Many of them he
didn’t understand, as much as he saw them reflected in the feminine face he had
within reach. A face that he had seen shift and reform with so many expressions
that in several occasions the changing speed
made him feel a little bit dizzy.
But it
wasn’t the time to ponder about that.
“Your
friends are here. Are you going to let yourself die before they find you?”
The gray
eyes widened in a manner that he identified as surprise. He detailed every
spark of emotion cursing across those soul windows: joy, regret, determination,
optimism, worry, sadness. Then, her eyes closed and she
accepted the next bite with a lowered head. She
had lost the battle of the moment.
The plate
was cleared after all.
“Why?” he
heard her murmur while he was retreating to the door. Turning his eyes over his
shoulder, he noticed that she was looking back at him intriguingly.
“Please
elaborate your question,” he pointed out.
“Why do you
care if I live or die?”
“...Aizen-sama’s orders.”
She smiled
sadly and looked away.
“I understand.
I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It was
nothing, you don’t need to apologize,” he answered politely, although inwardly
he failed to see the point in expressing regret for something this unimportant.
“I rather
to do it,” she said in a low voice. “How can you be so impassive with all that
you see, Ulquiorra-san?”
“I don’t
have emotions.”
To his interior
astonishment, she smiled again and let out a little laugh audibly enough to
qualify it as a mocking laugh.
“I can’t believe
that,” she said. “Everyone has emotions, although there are some that we show more
than others.”
“Are you
mocking me, woman?”
“Orihime.”
He stared
at her, while she turned her head to the window, to that dusty moon that filled
more than half of her captive and framed landscape.
“My name is
Inoue Orihime, not woman. Please call me by my name, Ulquiorra-san.”
“As you
wish,” he responded automatically, exiting the cell and closing its door
heavily.
Three days
passed before he was informed again that she was neglecting her food.
This
situation was becoming a tad repetitive, so he concluded that a categorical and
definite intervention was necessary.
When
opening the door, he found her prostrated again, this time on the sofa. She
seemed really weak, with hollow cheekbones and a paleness that rivaled his.
This vision bothered him.
“Inoue Orihime,”
he addressed her coldly. “You have been starving yourself again.”
She opened
her eyes slowly, fixing them on his.
“I’ll eat
if you tell me the meaning of the word ‘feeling’.”
“It is rather
useless to try to make me lose my patience, onna.
That word is not in my vocabulary.”
“You lie,” she
said lightly. “You have feelings, I can see them even
if your face doesn’t show them. You didn’t kill Kurosaki-kun because... you
considered it a waste of time, ne, Ulquiorra-san? What
you really felt was pity... the same pity you feel when you look at me.”
“You annoy
me, I do not pity you.”
“Annoyance
is a feeling, Ulquiorra-san.”
He didn’t
contradict her. There was no reason to argue something so inane and pointless. He
observed her as she stood up slowly, grasping one of the sofa arms not to lose
her balance. However, when trying to approach him, she stumbled with her own
feet.
Automatically,
his arms wrapped around her body, supporting her and breaking the fall. It was
obvious that she would have hurt herself if she hit the floor. That was why,
logically, he stopped the gravity process with his arms to avoid any more
complications.
It was only
belatedly that he noticed that her body and surprised features were close, very close to him.
“Ulquiorra-san...”
she murmured, with a faint tinge on her cheeks but her eyes determined
nonetheless. “Do you feel my heart beating?”
“Yes.”
“My heart
beats with feelings. What about yours? Have you heard it, some time?”
“I do not
have time for this nonsense,” he said, but the coldness was absent from his
tone. “I have come to warn you for the last time that you must eat, otherwise...”
He didn’t
finish his threat. The woman’s warm fingers were running down the zipper of his
jacket, uncovering his Hollow hole resting at the base of his neck.
Sliding the
tip of her fingers around the edges of it, he clearly felt a shiver and tensed
all his muscles in a total alertness response... pressing the onna’s body closer to his.
“You must
stop doing that.”
“Ulquiorra-san...
what does it feel, having this?”
Her words
were dripping sincere curiosity, even when her own body was tilted against his
because of her lack of strength to stand up correctly.
“I do not
feel anything, only your fingers.”
She didn’t
answer, leaning her forehead on the Hollow hole. She had a fever; he noted
distractedly, her warmth spreading over the contact zone, making him feel it.
“Orihime.”
He had
heard Noitora talking -against his best reserves-
about something called ‘a hot lover’s touch’. Although, of course, he referred
to it in a rather contemptuous and leering manner, something that he,
Ulquiorra, disapproved greatly, but he understood that the warmth because of
the touch, because of the contact, was beyond any perverted description made by
the tall and rather stupid lower-rank Espada.
That was
why he didn’t avert the brush of her lips against his, classifying its
significance already, its meaning, its consequences...
Until he
discerned that... this was a kiss, and the only way to understand a kiss
was by feeling
it.
Sensation.
It wasn’t the same as feeling, but both concepts went together.
He
corresponded to the kiss with the hesitation of a beginner and his eyes open,
he didn’t want to miss a thing; he tensed under his white garments when he
perceived those inquisitive fingers running over his cold
skin. Supporting her, he actually allowed her
experimentations, acknowledging more sensations, more caresses, more effects.
Until the
male part of his being, the very same he had suppressed in the exact moment
that Aizen had offered him a position among the high Espada
ranks, surfaced gradually, making him act by instinct.
His hands
moved against Orihime, while she sighed and shivered
under his touch.
He found
out that her skin wasn’t actually as pale as his, and that despite her
confinement, she hadn’t lost her terseness and freshness.
He found out that she was ticklish at the sides of her waist, answering that
conjecture he had had since he’d
taken up the role as her guardian that she hadn’t lost her ability to laugh.
Soft laughs that melted into sighs under the inexperienced but curious
hands of the Cuarto Espada.
Sighs that
became moans as he stirred up a certain heat
inside her, moving his fingers as instinct indicated him, finding that she was
still pure, fact that made him react in a more primal and energetic manner.
She allowed
him to lie on top of her soft body, biting her lip because of the pain she felt
but arching her back altogether, welcoming him.
Fingers that intertwined in his hair, avoiding the osseous mask while
his tongue found and ran on the shapely globes that swelled under his
attentions.
Fingers
that dug into his back when instinct transformed into urgency, while his hips
moved in a rhythm that was set by their accelerated breaths.
Fingers
that grasped the rounded and soft
hips when she threw her head back and repeated that little cry that she emitted
before -when his fingers had been where he was currently-, while closing tightly
around him, pulling him deeper and deeper, threatening his control.
Fingers
that slid randomly on his back when he fell on top of her, trying to regain a
breathe that he didn’t know how he’d lost, laying his head between Orihime’s
breasts while she circled his now warm body with her arms.
“How does
it feel?” she asked, one more time.
“As if... as if I encountered something
that... completed me.”
She didn’t
answer then, content with shivering under the new manifestation of desire that
she felt inside her.
If this was
feeling... well then, this new concept would need to be considered in a much
more detailed manner.
~ Tenna' ento lye omenta ~
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