When the Morning Comes...

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            “C’mon.”

            He startled her by grabbing her wrist, urging her to follow.  She staggered to keep up.  “Wha-What?!  Hey!  Where are you…?!”  They made a sharp right on the sidewalk, which meant downtown, which meant… redlight district of Naruki City.  He was actually…!

            “A-Are you…?!  You can’t be serious!”

            Ichigo looked back at her, seeming to be annoyed but for the streak of red across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes.  “You’re the one who said it.  And you’re right.”

            She blinked at him.

            “If we’re going to… talk about this, it’s better in private.  I don’t want Keigo or Mizuiro overhearing and-and misunderstanding.  So we’ll just find somewhere, like you said.”

            “Wait, I didn’t think…!”  She closed her mouth, wary of the people still strolling amongst the streetlights.  There weren’t many, and they certainly weren’t familiar, but Riruka was starting to see them all as potential witnesses who’d go back to Orihime and warn her of her boyfriend spotted with a harlot.

            Ichigo’s hand clasped hers tightly, reassuring in its tightness.  There was nothing to worry about.  He didn’t look at her – much too embarrassed and mortified – but those were the feelings conveyed to her.  She needn’t be paranoid or angry or worried.  They could just stay in the moment for right now.

            Carefully, Riruka began to settle.  Eyes downcast, cheeks filled with color, she slowly crept closer to him; he checked his longer strides to a comfortable stroll for her.  She laced fingers with him…  She held his arm with her other hand, leaning dependently.  So shy and quiet now.

            This may have actually turned into… a date.

            “Are you sure?”  Her voice was low, he almost missed it.

            He tried for a while not to answer; at least until he could say something definitive.  Something other than a somber “Yeah…”

            His attention was drawn to her holding onto his arm.  Charged with anxiety; he could feel it, her fingernails turning into his skin, not to hurt him.  He understood.  The drink had made him vulnerable to invasive thoughts, but it was him who acted.  It was him leading Riruka.

            He focused on her hand in his.  Small, fingers linked.  If anyone they knew walked by…  Naruki City was safer than Karakura.  There shouldn’t be a problem.

            Riruka swallowed hard, tightening her grip on Ichigo’s hands when they stood at the entryway of the love hotel.  Had he come here before?  With his girlfriend?  Or some other bimbo?  Riruka withheld the accusations she wanted to reflexively spit at him.  A glimpse, and she could see he was not very comfortable with this either; he hadn’t done this before, with Orihime or anyone else.  This was a first; probably a last.

            Go in?

            Ready.

            They took that committed step and headed in.

            An empty lobby.  A kiosk instead of an attendant, they were glad; more privacy, the better.  Ichigo fumbled in taking out his wallet, his card slipping out of his fingers and clattering – noisily in their overbearing silence – on the floor.  “Clumsy,” Riruka mocked out of habit.  Ichigo stooped, his fingers fumbling as he grabbed his card.  He didn’t quite reach her gaze with his own; in fact, he stopped short at her legs, her stockings, holding tight where they stopped and left a slight plumping of her thigh.

            She right away noticed his eyeline and shifted; at first, to try to sidestep his attention, but then choosing something different… if he was so interested.  The right kind of shimmy teased far enough up her skirt that he might have seen a glimpse of her striped bubblegum pink panties.  Don’t show it all off at once.

            Don’t look too eager, Ichigo warned himself.  Some part of him was hopefully delusional, that this could just be a pitstop to just talk in comfortable private.  There were more reasonable hotels further down the road… this one just happened to be closest…

            To even try to justify it…  He bowed his head, cleared his throat while securing his credit card in his fist, and stood up without any more distractions.  They both hovered at the kiosk – close, insecure – the rooms available lit up on the screen; the occupied ones dark with a red x beneath them.

            Quite a kinky selection when it came to themes.  Riruka pursed her lips and suppressed an overwhelmed mew.  Dungeon types with a scaffold complete with restraints, space-themed for weirdo otakus, doctor office!  But she nearly went for the royalty suit, pink and regal like a princess’s bedroom.  But she wouldn’t let that slip.  “Not anything weird,” she said crossly.

            “Like I would,” he grumbled back to her, a lightness in his hushed tone, selecting one of the identical, moderate rooms; a regular hotel room… with a suitable bed.  He selected the option for a night’s stay… just in case…

            Three hours, he figured would be more than enough to… to talk.  Sweat rolled down the back of his neck.

            Elevator doors opened.  He let her in, and she did with mechanical ease.  Right to the back, pressing hard into the reflective wall, sidelong stare to the corner, trapped; Ichigo right beside her, less than a foot between them as their reflections appeared across from them when the doors closed and the room lifted.

            Smooth gears working and the lift easy; everything as designed.  Riruka stared intensely at the changing number above the door.  2… 3… 4…  Just how high up are we going?!  She shuffled and squirmed despite trying to keep absolutely still.  She wanted to look at him and gauge what was going on in his head.  Probably regretting this; probably going to tell her he couldn’t after finally giving that heart wrenching apology.

            Instead… just barely… a hand crept over, and a pinky skimmed hers.  A chance of weakness that she could exploit.  Was he really so timid?!  Coward, weakling!  If you want to hold my hand…!

            Carefully, her pinky extended, curling with his.  A light hold.  An unbreakable one.

            She flushed.  What’s a meathead doing something so cute?!  “D-Dummy,” she uttered, voice choking.  He huffed a mild laugh.  Very slightly, he moved a bit closer to her, tightening his pinky with hers.

            She was just about to do the same when the elevator dinged, the doors opened, and they were let out.  Hands snapped away from each other.  The room was…  Well, a room.  Riruka didn’t spend time nitpicking, though she could have picked it apart if she wasn’t so distracted.

            “How dull,” she said, pointedly marching away from Ichigo’s side.  She went to the small, circular table and dropped in one of the two chairs.  Legs crossed; Ichigo acknowledged the talent she had for that.  She stared at him, just as focused as he had been, yet with a predator’s glint.  “Why didn’t we go somewhere nicer?  One that’s not so suspicious.”  She leaned a cheek on her hand, smirking at him.  “It makes me worry that you want to do perverted things.”

            Ichigo pulled somewhat with a grimace.  “Don’t say it like that.”

            “Well, you’re the one who wanted to come here.  What else did you have in mind?  To talk about that kiss?  Ha!  I’ve already forgotten about it.  It wasn’t anything special.”  She waved her hand sideways like she was refusing a meal.  “So if you want to… talk about anything else, I guess I could listen.  You paid for the room, after all.”

            It was like a knife twisting in his side.  Yes, he’d taken out his card, selected the room… entwined fingers.  Talking wasn’t what he’d brought her here for; not if he were being honest.  “Riruka,” he rasped, throat dry, “I just want you to know…”  He stopped there, hesitating.

            “What?”  She continued to be unimpressed and bored while simultaneously radiating sensuality.  The room was filling with her; scent, aura, desire.  Ichigo’s pulse could be seen against the side of his neck.  His lips broke with a shaky inhale.  Pupils began to dilate.  Blood flow took an immediate course from the brain, leaving him prone to irrational thought.

            His breath quickened and quivered, eyes tracing her from top to bottom as his crotch tightened.

            “Spit it out,” Riruka said irritably, oblivious to his plight while she commenced her charade.  “You’ve been like this all night.”  Legs uncrossed, crossed over again, eyes on them; hungry.  “So if you’ve got something to say, do it already!”

            His eyes darkened, and in two strides, he was across the kitchen, to her, and his patience spent.  Riruka was swept up, embraced, he kissed her deep and stole her breath.  But she quickly reciprocated, pulling at him, moaning while fisting his hair, shoving her breasts against his chest and clambering up to meet him.

            No eyes watching and judging here.  It was all them.  She went for his body, clawing down his back before rounding to the front, gasping against his lips when she groped the tight grooves of muscle.  Steely sinew rippled; she’d never felt such a solid body or raw power before.  Usually a turn-off to her, but Ichigo met her standards beautifully!

            But he was overwhelming her with that unbuckled power.  Her smaller frame clenched against his desire, his fingers pawing at the meat of her waist.  He’d totally dominate her, push her up against the wall, and…!

            She needed control!  Get back in charge!  Smack sense in him and remind him that she was running this!

            She yanked back, panting heavily through glistening lips.  He stared back at her, unable to promise that he could wait for long.

            Say something snappy!  Remove some of his confidence!

            “On the bed” was what she got out.

            “Huh?” was his delayed reply.

            “Stupid,” she spat, fingers curling in shirt.  With slight willpower, she directed him toward the bed; the neat, wide bed for couples on a comfortable white.  The room itself was whites, grays, and browns; all subtle tones that did nothing to draw the eye from each other.  “I-I said sit down on-on the bed!  We might as well… since you brought me here!”

            “Riruka.”

            She refused to look up at him and, with all her strength, pushed him.  He plopped down, sitting just as instructed.

            “There!”  She clapped her hands together like she’d done good work.  Her face flamed regardless of her posturing.  “Now-Now I’ll do it!  So you just sit there!”

            She heard Ichigo suck his teeth breath sharply; a good sign of obedience.  She made it between his knees, and he kept them open and his hands obligingly clinging to the bedsheets, rooting himself.  He held his tongue.  Good.  She didn’t need him saying something he shouldn’t.

            Her eyes ran the ridge against the inside of his thigh, assessing the full situation.  She prepared herself with a swallow before fingers fumbling over fingers when she began to undo his belt; then his button, his fly.  “Going to the bar just to pick up girls,” she griped under her breath, her inexperience showing while turning open his trousers.  “What a pervert.  And I wasn’t planning this, just so you know!”

            She was at his waistband when she stopped to glare at him.

            “I just happened to be around…!  And your kiss was so…!”  She chewed her words a moment.  Then she diverted.  “This is the only time I’m going to do this!  And you better not tell anyone!”

            Ichigo’s lips were sealed once his belt was undone.

            The moment of truth.  Riruka’s nerve was undone, her attempts to seem unfazed failing, little mewls and squeaks building behind her pursed lips.  She could keep ridiculing and procrastinating.  Maybe even get them to the point where they could accept this as madness!  But they did not reach that point; getting only to the point of no return.

            She jostled and wriggled his boxers as much as she could to finally fenagle the erection free.  Ichigo lent a hand when it was too apparent that she was not willing to directly reach in, though she feigned annoyance to his interference; not that she stopped him.  And finally… out it came.

            She balked, feeling suppressed by the size of him.  A large cock, in length and girth; biggest she’d seen up close, but thankfully not absurd.  She could – she guessed – fit her mouth around it.  But she wasn’t about to try.  To her, he was lucky enough to get her tongue!

            This was a first: her voluntarily going for it instead of being coaxed and bartered with.  Ichigo didn’t ask for it, and she rightly assumed he’d refuse if she showed discomfort.

            “Only,” she began, voice cracking, fingers carefully gathering around the base and the tip, “Only because you want it so much!”

            He hadn’t said a thing.  He wouldn’t say a thing.

            Her small hands fondled her prize, squeezing and noticing his twitches along with the rapid flow of precum at the tip; she avoided touching the spillage.  She held it straight, leaned down, and licked across his underside.  Not a long lick, but a testing one.  Ichigo gave a pleasant sigh, like an icepack had been applied to feverish flesh.  A good, encouraging sign; Riruka continued, licking again with no real technique.  She bustled along the veins, inwardly happy that he made such happy sounds because of her.

            No doubt his buxom wife could do a better job… but she wasn’t going to be upstaged that easily!  Riruka couldn’t wolf down an éclair with Orihime-like technique, but she had her own flare!  Cute, quick, butterfly kisses stamped little cherry-scented lips against him; near the base in a snaking path upward toward the head.  Mustering her courage, she planted the last one at the top, supping the sample, finding it somewhat to her liking.  At least it wasn’t bitter or sour; it actually had a subtle sweetness that she did not mind, despite the sticky texture.

            In answer to her curious licking, Ichigo gave a low murmur, almost sounding like “More…”  She obliged, licking and gaining confidence with each pompous swath.  Her pink tongue circled the sensitive head, oftentimes checking the puckering slit for more beads of precum.

            Her gaze darted to the side when his breathing became more labored.  This was usually the part where a guy could not restrain himself and manually ducked her head onto his cock.  Ichigo’s fists tightened impatiently, but stayed on the sheets, showing his restraint as his knuckles paled.  He was really putting up with her.

            While waggling her tongue on his slot, she figured, while she couldn’t possibly try to gulp such a big, meaty thing down, she could give him a little favoring… to express her appreciation for his restraint.  She sealed her lips at his tip, sucked hard, and then released with an airy pop.  And then again.  She moved her head variously, breaking the suction abruptly just as he started to moan louder.  Her name came out twice amid the enthused groans; she tried not to let it distract her, humming lazily as she kissed down, down, down, settling on his sac with her tongue and carefully-suckling mouth.  Appropriate for his size, but she was much more confident licking and sucking his balls than attempting to get his dick in her mouth.

            “Dammit,” seethed her boytoy, wrenching at the bedding until she could hear threads breaking.

            A little teasing was in order; to bolster herself.  “Hu~h?  What’s the matter?  Don’t tell me you can’t handle it.”

            He stared heavily at her, panting, eyes cloudy with mounting lust that put warmth in her breast.

            Kiss me now, dummy!

            But she didn’t let him a proper chance, diving her mouth back to his cock, now working with more gusto beyond just his tip.  Deeper, a little deeper…!  Near the back of her tongue was her limit, her gag setting in with an undignified retch.  It’d take more than just bravado to swallow his dick anywhere near as well as Orihime.

            With a sputtering, wet sigh, she conceded, pulling the shaft out of her mouth and quickly cleaning the sloppy strings of spit with her sleeve.  Sitting back, she pouted at him, almost on the verge of tears as she watched him catch his breath, coming back from the precipice she’d nearly pushed him over.  There was a twinge of pain from the lost momentum, and Riruka didn’t want to be responsible for it.  “I think I’ve done enough,” she announced, acting like her retreat was of her own volition and not a surrender.  She looked at the thing twitching in front of her, arguing that there might be a little more she could spare for his sake.  “And you want us to be even, don’t you?”  She fiddled nervously with the hem of her blouse.

            Ichigo’s heart hammered in his ears.  He was transfixed on her, cutely hesitating and deflecting in front of his raring cock.  He wasn’t about to compare her to other experiences, and he certainly wasn’t going to say she did a lousy job.  His erection had been filled out since back at the bar, so he had been ready for this moment.  The lasting ache in his balls did hurt, but he could withstand it… a little longer.

            But his mind was filled with her and her cute little ways.  The snobby act had weakened significantly.  He saw how she watched his throbbing cock with worry.

            He’d convince her it wasn’t about that or him.

            Riruka, in the meantime, ran her hands down her chest, looking at her bust against the soft fabric.  Not perfectly defined, but the thinness did pronounce the hardening of her nipples through her dainty bra.  A cold night wouldn’t have made them this noticeable.  And she was proud how full and perky her breasts were; more than a handful, supple and yielding to the touch, flesh and prominent pink tips like cherries capping mounds of cream.  But she’d seen – and envied – the set that bounded in front of Orihime in her peppy strides.

            To put bluntly: Ichigo had seen better.

            As if he’d said so out loud, Riruka soured more to the idea of lifting her dress and letting him ogle her.  She fisted the hem.  It would come off eventually; by her hand or his.  It was what they came here for!  Not bantering around a club or taken home where he could show her off.  Just a sleazy love hotel for a night of steamy secrets!

            “I suppose you want to see them,” she said almost bitterly.

            Ichigo opened his mouth, letting a single, unintelligible syllable out.  He clenched his teeth, and gave the merest nod.

            “Fine.”  Better she do it than him.  She could pull it back down once he made his first snide comment, and then be out the door herself!  She’d come to her senses!  All she needed was a strong dose of reality…

            They bounced out together, the pink bra helping more with lift than support, shoving the milky mounds together in an alluring cleavage, trimmed with transparent lace, concealing the tips for the most part.  Ichigo inhaled deeply, but was otherwise unresponsive… and undistracted.  Not enormous, but they held his attention.  She could quietly observe the approach of his eyes; he was very clearly in conflict but could not pry away.  To him, she was captivating.

            A bit bolder, she slid her fingers under the clasp and lifted the cups until her breasts spilled free in their great, round splendor.  Bobbing and settling comfortably at her chest.  Beautiful…

            But his silence bothered her.  She needed something to break this powerful quiet.  “W-Well?!  Say something-wah!”

            Ichigo instead caught her in a hug, her breasts flattening to his chest as he kissed her, discarding her hat and dress entirely, his erection grinding between her thighs as he wrestled her onto the bed.  Instinctively, she flailed when the floor vanished from beneath her feet; on the bed, when given room, she scrambled up to the pillows to bunch behind her.  Ichigo was fast on the move, giving either breast a kiss, hot breath and wet tongue flashing against the stiff and sensitive tips.  “Ah~”  His lips were going down further than she expected, kissing her flat tummy, her bellybutton for a playful tickle, and tracing the hem of her underwear.  “N-Now wait a second!  You-You can’t just…!”

            But he could.  He had the might, and they shared the desire.  With a strong tug, he put her fully on her back and thrust her thighs upward, legs hanging and splayed outward.  The panties she had so daringly teased before were now on full, lewd display, showing off the darkened line that spread from her arousal.

            The warmth of Ichigo’s quickening breath was upon her.  She tightened, muscles in her thighs flexing.  “Hold on!  I’m not ready!”  If she wasn’t ready now, she’d never be ready.  Ichigo made the move for her, sidelining the moist crotch of her panties to expose the seeping arousal behind.  She gave a sharp yip, tried to hide herself from his gaze, but he effortlessly brushed by her hands and admired her womanhood.  Shaved bare but for a tidy patch crowning her pubis perfectly; waxed, she would amend the assessment, for she wanted the acknowledgment of the pain of her beauty régime.  Her sex was blooming with eagerness, lips open and swollen and perspiring with the need for him.

            “S-Stop staring,” she demanded in much too weak a voice.

            Ichigo reacted to her true desire; her wants and passions.  With great reverence, he tucked in between with his tongue and licked her; the full length of her folds, gathering her essence.  A sharp, bittersweet flavor; very appropriate for her.  He went again, her thrown back, hands clinging to the blankets like she’d thrust up to the ceiling.  Tears stung the corner of her widened eyes, her breath choked and wet from saliva frothing at the sides.  No!  I-I can’t…!  She came before Ichigo’s tongue made its third pass; all tensing muscles and reddening face, teeth clenching.  I’m cumming already!

            Whether it was shameful to her or not, it didn’t deter Ichigo in the slightest.  Whatever made her squirm and keen, he’d do it again and better each time.  She had expected his prowess to be limited, but what he had learned with Orihime alone had been thorough and effective, especially when he fiddled her clit between thumb and forefinger, massaging and peeling back the hood to assault the exposed bundle.

            She wasn’t even done with her first climax when she felt herself cresting again.  “Hold on,” she stuttered like she was reaching the pinnacle of a roller coaster and was staring down the steep plunge.  Her breath was stilted with frantic gasps – “Ah!  Ah!” – while her hips tried to jump out of Ichigo’s hands.  She could feel his nose brushing through her pubic hair when his appetite for her quim grew.  She snatched tight fistfuls of his hair – It no doubt hurt as she yanked. – and sobbed through this louder than the first.

            His hands crawled up her body to grab at her chest, massaging the globes firmly, testing their resilience while his mouth focused on her juicing pussy.  He was good with this, too; very attentive, stroking her hardened nipples with just the right amount of sincerity so they’d tingle rather than hurt, amplifying her orgasm so that it wasn’t an abrupt settling; more like she was parachuting on puffs of energy that had gotten her to the peak in the first place.

            He reclined, and she was given a chance to breathe, failing to hold back a smile of relief.  So this was it.  Satisfaction.  Maybe she should reward him with a pat on the head and a “Job well done.”

            Her musing ended abruptly when she noticed it; Ichigo dropping his shirt over to empty side of the bed – Her eyes went immediately to his proportions. – and escaping his pants.  Fully naked, he crawled between her legs, opening them, spreading her sex.  “H-Hey…!”  Her impending objection settled behind his lips; a strong, reassuring kiss as he carefully aimed his throbbing piece at her entrance.

            Her breath hitched, gauging the discrepancies between them!  Not to mention that the orgasms he’d bestowed on her made her seize up tight; even fully ready, it seemed unlikely that he’d fit in.

            “You…”  He paused until her gaze locked with his; no haughtiness or posturing this time, she looked almost helpless.  “You want to… right?”

            “W-Well, of course!”  Her legs ticked at his sides.  “I want to…!  But…”

            The head pressed against her, the bloat digging carefully in.  She inhaled deep, the spread of him getting to her.  Gradually, he wedged in, noting her anxious cues of clutching his stiff arms and the erratic rhythm of her breathing.  He took his time, letting her shift and wait before pushing deeper.  She was tight, coiling around him with regular spasms.  “Okay,” she wheezed, giving two quick nods.  “G-Go.”  He pushed deeper.  Walls so snug, he made a face, groaning deeply under her higher-pitched wailing.  “Jeeeez!”  She shambled, left and right, biting him with her fingernails.  “Don’t push it all in at once, dummy!”

            He kissed her, hushed her, and filled her out the rest of the way, stopping immediately when his tip leaned into the firm partition.  He could already feel her muscles jump, wary of his length.  So was he.  He couldn’t barrel in, though every impulse he had was to rut her and bring her to completion over and over again.  Instead, he checked himself, retreated – She stuttered with a moan, quivering entirely beneath him, trapped between the strong arms she clung to. – and then went back with measured haste.  A nice, soft impact against her womb, bouncing back before too much pressure was applied.  She couldn’t believe how good it felt!  How smooth!  He pulled back again, and then in again.  “OoOoo!” she trilled, eyes rolling back, seemingly surrendering to his methods.

            Her breasts wobbled; plump milky hills rolling in smooth waves.  Every now and then, he’d test her resilience and press a little deeper, grinding his tip to the entrance of her womb.  She seemed to take it well, or put up with it, her expressions twisting in the throes of pleasure.  She had since lost her third round of pleasure, spraying over Ichigo’s shaft and wetting beneath her.  Fine.  She’d put up with that.  She actually didn’t even think about it when he started to really fuck her into the mattress, the springs adding extra oomph that shot her back up to meet his powerful thrusts.

            But he couldn’t get careless…  “S-Slower!  Not too fast!”  Not with her usual flare; she couldn’t muster it.  Caution.  Caution!

            “Right,” he breathed back, face buried in the crook of her neck, hot breath crashing onto her sweaty skin.  “Sorry.”  He slowed but was showing signs that he couldn’t contain himself for very long.  In just a few, short (long) strokes, he was prying deep again, huffing heavily and biting back the trembling noises rumbling in his throat.  She chose not to reprimand him; it was good and better than that even.  He could go faster, but he was holding back on her account.  No doubt his durable girlfriend had let him on a more vigorous tempo that Riruka was just not built for.  That fact remained: he held back for her.

            Bzzt~  Bzzt~!  A phone’s vibration; Ichigo’s trousers, tossed carelessly over the side of the bed, his cell falling from the pocket.  It danced in a crooked circle as it buzzed, wanting to be picked up.  Riruka glanced, panting; Ichigo’s eyes followed, but only for a moment.  He didn’t want to think of who might be calling.  Keigo or Mizuiro, wanting to know where he’d gone off to.  Or… someone else…

            He turned Riruka back to him – Ignore it. – and kissed her.  She panted into his mouth, and they kissed until the buzzing stopped.

            She clutched him, all over, fingers hooking around the back of his neck, face tucked to his collar as she whispered abundant pleasure.  It was him who was risking for this.  Even now, putting himself on the line, obeying her, putting his future in jeopardy.  Dummy!  If he hadn’t had that drink…

            It was one drink.

            She drank too!

            Not much…

            The alcohol between them was stifled under the scent of her perfume, his deodorant and cologne, their raw sex.  It wasn’t a factor anymore; hadn’t been when their hand-in-hand walk had sobered them right up.  This was her decision every bit as much as his.  She had to own that.

            “Slower…!”

            Not because it was too much.

            He held back, but his grunting grew louder, more desperate.  He wrenched one of her hands off of his shoulder, held it down.  His fingers twisted and writhed until their hands caught; she obliged, clasping and showing her readiness.

            His finale.  She was apprehensive of it.  The boy pulling out to control their future while still laying some claim to her.  Belly, breasts, face…  She had fixed her makeup not that long ago, though the perspiration had made it start to run when he filled her.  She looked good; good enough!  He-He should be happy that he’d get to make a mess all over her!  A fair trade for what he’d done for her… but she was nervous.  She loosened her legs from hindering his pace, allowing for his quick withdraw and repositioning.  Her lungs were taking in more air than she was letting out, gasping with little squeaks while his thrusts mounted to hasty jabs.  Yes, this was it; his climax.  He’d pull out and rain all over her – a proper end to a one-night stand – and apologetically collect tissue from the bathroom.  She’d take it, but she needed to think of some witty insults to hurl at him so that he wouldn’t think that she enjoyed…

            “Riruka!”  He curled with a bestial snarl, and staked his claim.

            Her eyes flashed wide from the raw sensation; new, never experienced before.  Her legs snapped together, his hips between them; locked tight.  “What are you doing?!” she gasped, heat welling up in the deepest part of her.  The vibrant twitching of his cock, firing off rounds of his seed…!  She almost thought she was imagining it.  “T-Take it out!”

            He didn’t, wedging a hand beneath her hip for an advantageous tilt, helping to flush their bodies together.  He was determined.

            And with that, so was she.  She gave up all pretense and caution, undulating her body to his spastic tempo, swinging her feet around to lock and secure him and his payload within.  She’d never felt such euphoria before!  This was… completion!  It wasn’t the toe-curling or the white explosions in her head that made it different than the other orgasms she’d thus enjoyed.  It was something profoundly deeper.  She barely realized she was on her back, beneath his weight, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling and gasping.  All her limbs were wrapped around his panting frame, his face still at her neck.

            She felt his lips curl back from his teeth – a scowl – and the smallest swear.

            She pretended not to notice and focused on catching her breath and relaxing.  He was done, his balls drained, and his burden swirling inside her.  Give it another minute or two, so they could really catch their breaths.

            …

            Five minutes later, he rolled sideways, lilting out of her so that his deposit could seep out of her in a gooey gulley.  Warmth sliding down roused her fury.  She sat up quickly, clutching his shirt from the bed to her bosom, shooting him a reproaching glower.  “You-You did it inside!” she exclaimed, like it was news to him.  “What were you thinking?!  You don’t know if-if I’m on anything!”  A deeper, more passionate blaze of red spilled into her cheeks.  “Wha-What if…!  If I get…!”  She was too embarrassed to say the word, mind already reeling in an image of her cute and trim body rounding out at the belly!  Diet needed to change, exercise regiment, morning sickness…

            Not to mention her reaction in finding out.

            Riruka trembled, forcing herself to frown through the abundant panic.  “What are you…?!”  She hoped he had a plan for this, and she would definitely tell him to take responsibility for what could very well come from his carelessness.

            Careless, indeed.  He was already asleep.  Spent and in respite, his arm lain over her stocking-clad thighs…  Not a care to trouble him.  He hadn’t made a mistake.

            At once, Riruka’s façade dropped, his shirt falling from her bust.  This close, she stared at him, accounting all his features.  She lightly brushed a tress of hair from his face; softer than she had guessed.  Big softie…

            “Dummy,” she murmured after snuggling in close to him, buried timidly to his chest with his arm around her.

            He smelled so sweet…

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            It was probably morning.  No windows to check, but Riruka’s eyes fluttered open and she felt renewed.  Sore in particular and intimate places, but refreshed.  Her arms stretched out with a muted groan, unconscious of her breasts’ exposure when the blanket drooped.  Strange, though, that she wasn’t in her usual cute nightgown.  It took a moment for the clarity to arrive and her to remember what had happened last night!

            Ichigo!

            She swung to her right, where he had lain beside her.  The slight imprint of him remained, but not him.  Not his shirt, nor pants, shoes, phone.

            Instinctively, she grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her nakedness; secondary to the whereabouts of the clothes he flung off of her for his mouth to leave light love bites across neck, chest and belly.  Room empty.  Bathroom door ajar, but no one – “I-Ichigo?” – answered from within.

            Just quiet and alone.

            Still, she kept her breasts hidden even as she slumped, head hanging and lips – smeared gloss from when their kisses had become ravenous and hungry – in a small pout.  Of course he was gone, and of course he wouldn’t wake her up in leaving.  He knew she wouldn’t feel good about it; about last night, about him leaving…  He had someone to go back to, someone to explain an all-night outing to.  Knowing him, he’d be transparent in most ways – probably refrain from mentioning her by name for her own preservation – and seek to make it right and settled.  They both knew that he wasn’t about to up and leave Orihime for a one-time fling, one that should not have happened except for a drink and a kiss.  She couldn’t hope for more than what he’d given her…

            “Dummy,” she whispered softly, and went back down.  No one was knocking yet; she had some time to nuzzle the pillow where his head had rested and smell chocolate and strawberry a little longer.

            Until the door opened.  No knock, no keys.  Just opened.

            Riruka sprung up, expecting to be caught by management huddling in the mess of her own shame, not expecting Ichigo to be standing there with a mild look of surprise on his own face.  Both shocked by the other…

            Then he looked away.  “S-Sorry.  I didn’t think I’d wake you.”  He walked in, a bit of a fumble in his stride while kicking the door closed.  He looked like he wanted to lock it as well, but his hands were full enough; two coffees, a parcel carrying the fragrance of pastries, likely donuts.

            She could really go for some…

            “I went out,” he stammered, sitting on the further chair; table between them, distance.  He stared at the box, futzing it idly with his fingers like he was aligning it.  “Figured you’d… want something to eat?”

            Riruka didn’t admit it, but yes, she was hungry.  But that could wait.  She eyed him skeptically, without the normal scorn; more like she wasn’t sure he was actually there and needed her glasses to reassure herself.  She kept herself covered.

            “… I thought you left,” she murmured, barely audible, giving Ichigo an out; a chance to simply say “Enjoy the donuts, but I’ve got to leave.”  It’d sting, but she’d understand.  And she’d hate him as usual if their paths crossed again, and he’d make her fall in love with him again the moment he smiled at her.  This couldn’t be the end.

            He leaned back, somewhat aloof, forced.  “No,” he said bluntly, fingers rapping on the donut box.  “It’s…  It’s just that…”  He made an exasperated groan, like he was a teen again who had trouble putting into words how he felt.  “I wanted… to make sure you got home alright.”

            Riruka’s heart was beating so heavily that it resonated all the way to her fingertips.

            Just a little longer…

            “We only have the room for another half hour,” he diverged, opening the box to let the fresh-baked donuts – eclairs and glazed – scent the room.  “So… after we eat, we should get going.”

            Riruka looked at him for a second longer, and then one leg swung out from under the covers; the other too, feet on the soft carpet.  No covering.  She stood up, vulnerable and brazen, breasts rising and falling and catching his eye.  He lost that indifference he tried to play with, stunned by her beauty; from the gloss of her pedicure, to the fine strip of pink hair of her pubis and the puckered, raw lips still wet with his seed, to her belly where he’d sucked and left a mark upon her side that she would have to cover up or bare proudly, her breasts that he’d kissed and suckled on, neck peppered with kisses…  Lips…  Eyes…

            She walked over, stormed over, brisk, not giving herself a chance to change her mind or let him come back to his own.  She kissed him, pulling his face to hers, melding their mouths until he surrendered and kissed her back.  No time for pretense or formality.  They moaned and huffed against one another, both pairs of hands working his zipper over his fast-forming erection until it came out.  It was in her in a trice, lodging in carefully and deep until they shared a sigh.  She adjusted her stance, he supported her by the rear, and they began to synchronize their motions.

            She must have been weightless; he picked her up so easily.  Her knees clung to him, her trusting him to relocate them to the bed; better surface, her legs had support and he had balance.  But they kept kissing through as she rode him, expressing to him all the things she felt.  Not much longer, he took charge for her, lifting and lowering her in a slow, intimate rhythm, moaning against her skin while she kissed the crook of his neck.

            Three, honest words escaped her before the subtle and intense orgasm.  She wouldn’t have been able to tell him at any other point.  Only now…

            And though he heard them, he didn’t repeat them back to her.  He couldn’t lie to her like that.  He only held her tighter, let her know that she really did mean something to him, and finished inside one more time…

            She couldn’t have more than this morning, but as long as she held on tight… it would be enough.

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