Man

There is a soft rustle nearby, her eyes open immediately and she suppresses the gasp on her lips.

Vivid green eyes stare at her in the semi darkness of the moonlit chamber. He is here.

Orihime tries to get a grasp on her heart, he never comes to her chambers after dinner, and never while she is asleep. Her body is vibrating with the proximity of the number four Espada. "Ulquiorra." The sound, a whisper in the darkness.

Their earlier conversation plays in her ears, 'I will tie you down and force it down your throat.' Why? Clearly she annoys him, she is used to it. She is who she is, and he is here. Why?

"Onna." His voice is low, a growl.

She has been waiting for him, and his address is all the invitation she needs. She sits up, moving to the edge of her bed tucking her knees below her. He has straightened, but doesn't move from his position. Something in his face suggests he isn't quite sure why he has come.

Orihime raises herself, kneeling before him. His green eyes piercing her, he won't leave, but she doesn't yet have permission to touch. Her hands shake as she undoes the clasp of her garment slowly, she will not break eye contact, not this time.

Instinct and experience guide her, he is staring at her intently. When the garment falls to the bed in a soft rustle of material his eyes narrow. She follows his sight as he takes her in, naked from the waist up, the intense look making heat coil low in her belly. She has his attention.

Sinking to the bed, she swings her legs off the side, standing up- inches from his body. The room is cold but there is heat radiating from her, from him. He hasn't stopped her. And yet, his breathing isn't as steady as it had been.

Orihime stands there waiting.

"Continue." His eyes are on her once more.

Undoing the tie to her skirt, she slowly shimmies the material off of her hips until it lands pooled around her feet on the floor. Long orange hair is the only thing marginally protecting her modesty.

And finally, finally he moves.

Anticipates the touch, as she watches his pale hand, slender deadly fingers brush the long strands revealing her body, for him and him alone. He brushes his nose up her neck. Her heart pulses loudly in her ears, so she almost doesn't hear it. Until he bites her earlobe and she whimpers from the pleasure, exquisite. Her body is vibrating at his proximity, slick with anticipation, but she will not rush this.

The coolness of his touch makes her skin tingle with goosebump. Her eyes have closed so she focuses completely on the touch of his mouth, moist and hot to her fevered skin as he explores her neck. Sucking. Licking. Biting. She isn't in control of the gasps that escape her. Each one causes him to growl, his hands on her body are the only things keeping her upright.

She is reducing to mewing whimper when he rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Ul-Ulquiorra."

He repeats the action, and she clamps down on her lip certain she's most likely angered him.

"Say it." He grouses, into her neck.

"Hnn." She cannot speak.

"Again, onna." His other hand is at her throat tilting her head away to give him better access to his prize, thumb pressing under her jaw, fingers extended across her throat. She feels his power.

"Ulquiorra." She grounds out. "Haa-aaah." He is pleased.

He pulls away from her, finally releasing her nipple only to cup her face. Melancholic expression searching hers. Eyes settling on her slightly gaping mouth. How is he so composed? He is predator, she- his prey…

Her eyes flit from his eyes to his lips, instinct and experience drive her now. Her small hands hold his hips and she brings her body to his, reaching her mouth to his. Warm mouth crushing cool lips.

If he is surprised, he doesn't let on. His own desire cracking his control and their tongues meet, lips moving together. A hardness in his hakama that betrays his composed exterior just as his tongue had. And when she pulls away, breathless, she can tell he's cracked a little.

The distance doesn't last more than a moment, it's painful with him- it's even more painful away from him. Her fingers are on the clasps of his coat, he watches as her hands slip under the surface. When she reaches his shoulders, she fluidly works the jacket up and over her hands. It joins her skirt on the floor.

Orihime bites her lip as she runs her fingers across the taut skin of his torso. Feeling the muscles below her fingertips. Working her way to his chest, she fingers his tattoo. The gothic four, symbol of his rank among the Arrancar. After a pause, she begins to kiss the skin around his hollow hole- certain he is going to stop her, surprised when he doesn't- allowing her to continue.

A twitch from his pants against her leg brings awareness of her body's need to the forefront of her thoughts. Her hands are at the sash of his white pants. He gives her a look, which is almost a physical push, and she sits on the edge of the bed, light brown eyes locked with emerald green.

He removes his boots, moving to stand before her, much like she had done moments before. He allows her to undo the sash of his pants. She carefully works the material over his, sharply defined, hip bones. And then he's free, erect before her and her mouth parts as she takes him in, living marble statue.

Her tongue swipes at the precum beading from his tip, and she holds his hips in her hands. Desire to taste the rest of him overtakes her and her mouth envelops his hot tip. Hands fist in her hair, and he holds her immobile, almost.

She swirls her tongue around his head flicking the base, gratified when he growls out, "Onna." She is not frightened. He has never frightened her. She wants more. Her hands grip his hips more firmly pulling him further into her mouth.

The grip on her hair tightens and he firmly pulls her away. She doesn't understand. Had she done something wrong? His gaze is dark, when she finally meets it, eyes unreadable- her heart is hammering. She wants. Fuck, she wants, the word- it's meaning now crystal clear in her mind.

"You're going to be the death of me, onna." His voice, cuts her.

She cannot move, she is his, he crushes her mouth with his. His body overwhelming hers. He is too far away. Desire gives her strength and she pulls him to her. She wants, needs, to taste again. So she bites his lip, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her jailor. Wastes no time as she wraps her mouth around his length once more. The taste of his precum, tangy on her tongue.

His hands fist in her hair once more and she stops her mouth. Withdrawing until he is resting against her lips, and she raises her eyes slowly to meet his gaze. A memory fills her thoughts: "What is the heart?" She blocks it from her mind.

Ulquiorra narrows his gaze, "Are you thinking of him?"

Shakes her head from side to side, no. He, the hollow before her is the only being that fills her thoughts. Dark and light.

"Good."

His gaze is hard, his hands firm. She is made to lie back. "Are you afraid?"

"No." Her voice is strong, "you do not frighten me." She says.

Orihime watches him use his sheathed zanpakuto to raise the black sash to his hand. Continues to watch him until he obstructs her vision, by wrapping the garments over her eyes. He is so quiet, her other senses strain to find him. The taste of him still on her lips, her legs rub together, and she becomes aware of a tangy smell in the air. Realizes it's her own arousal, because of him, and she can't find it in herself to feel embarrassed. This is his doing.

The coldness of his hands on her body, give her proprioception grounding her to his touch. His hand is pressed at the apex of her thigh, and her body hums. He's so close to where she desires him to be, his thumb lightly touching her hair, and then he is gone. "Ahh."

He isn't gone for long. Hands fist in the white silk of her bed when he grips her knees and runs his hands up her thighs slowly forcing her legs apart. Heart hammering, gasping when his mouth presses to her slit.

A growl renders her speechless as his tongue flicks at her clit. Strong hands pushing her legs up, her toes now curling over the edge of the bed, fighting the urge to buck her hips, and squeeze her thighs. A sharp pain in her right thigh where his helm brushes against her soft skin.

Momentarily he is gone, and when he returns the helm is gone. His ministrations causing her to fist her hands in the sheets, once more. "Ulquiorra." She breaths out. "I want- want to watch." WIth a confidence she isn't sure she has.

He pauses. "Have I tied your hands?"

Orihime props herself on her elbows the material falling from her eyes coming to rest on her breasts. A question in his eyes: "Where is the 'heart'?"

He is fingering her opening, his eyes watching hers carefully as he pushes inside causing her to inhale sharply through her nose, it feels- feels so intense. She needs more. He works her slowly, and she again fights the urge to buck her hips. The need to dissolve into matter, nothingness, emptiness in his presence. It overwhelms her.

"Ah- ahh." The tides are rising, he must either sense her growing need or she has gasped it aloud, but she does keen when he adds another finger curling in her working her bundle of nerves. She can't look away, she is falling into oblivion. His emptiness a hollow pit that threatens to swallows her body and soul. He adds yet another finger to his steadily calculated rhythm, that has her meeting him every fourth thrust, he has her climbing- climbing. Until, until she reaches her own precipice, only to fall over the edge lost in green, body clenching him inside her, claiming him as her own.

And, as good as it is, it is still not enough.

It hits her again, 'If I tear open that chest of yours, will I see it there?' As clear as if he's spoken it to her.

"Yes," she breathes. Body tingling.

"Yes, what? Onna." His breathing is only slightly labored and she wonders what it'll take to make him see her as she sees him.

Her heart is screaming for him. A blast of red obscures her vision, and she hugs her arms to her chest, nails digging into her skin grounding her to reality.

The bed dips below his weight, and a pale hand caresses her cheek, her eyes open to meet his expressionless stare. He knows not concern.

"Onna?"

She can't not whisper the words. "If you tear open my chest."

"I assure you, I have no desire to do such a thing." The tone is terse, clipped.

"If you smash open my skull…" she continues.

He is looking at her though his outstretched hand. "I have no need of such a thing. I see it. Here within my reach." The words are hard.

Orihime reaches for his hand with her own outstretched fingers, panic threatening to overwhelm her until she makes contact and grips it as if her life depends on it. Pulling him to her, mouth's meeting, his own intense need present as she breaks through the emptiness. This is the moment she has been given.

His arms cage her beneath his body, smooth marble warmed by her fire. The length of him pressed between their bodies until she moves from beneath him, tilting her hips so that he slides down her folds and comes to rest pressing hard at her opening. Her breathing shallow.

"...Do I frighten you?"

The scleras of his eyes have turned dark green, the iris's an intense yellow, the pupils slit wide. His visage would frighten even the most hardened warriors.

For her answer, she reaches up cupping his face bringing his mouth to hers, searching his gaze. "Do I frighten you, Ulquiorra?"

'Where is the 'heart'?

If I tear open that chest of yours, will I see it there?

If I smash open that skull of yours, will I see it there?'

"Yes," he says as he pushes into her, the same force applied to his fingertips extracts the hearts of his enemies, and it does the same to his. His teal eye streaks widening to black, black flowing from his hollow hole, horns growing from his head. Orihime glows in his arms, and he is frightened by her power.

Instinct takes over, but he does not know how to fight this, he is locked in her sight. She will not release him, he no longer has the strength to fight her. He is lost within her.

Their hands are intertwined, there is pain, not the pain that comes from battles, perhaps the pain of the aftermath. Neither one will release the other. He watches her every micro expression, there is torment, there is pleasure, and there is something else-that which he cannot identify. It is what frightens him.

He has lost his control, in the fear, he is frantic in his desire to possess her, she does not hold back meeting him. His breathing ragged. Her keening gasps driving him closer to a black oblivion. His name on her lips, a benediction, a curse. Fear grips his hollows hole that this- this, will remain forever unsettled

And she is taking him over the edge, he is nothing. He is the darkness. He is emptiness.

She has destroyed him, he is spent, spilling into her. Possessing her in the most base way nature could allow. She is all around him. And yet. The fear grows.

Orihime is sobbing.

"Do I frighten you, onna."

Her heart is breaking.

He is but a small distance from her outstretched fingers. Ashes from his beautiful wings, being blown away on the cold winds of Hueco Mundo.

She cannot reach him.

His fingers are stretched out to her, she lunges forward to grasp at him. It will be okay if she can just- just hold on. Her fingers close on nothingness. He dissolves in front of her very eyes.

Small hands are crushed to her chest, she cannot breathe. She is heaving. Her heart cannot handle this.

A large warm hand rests on her shoulder.

Air, she's gasping for air. She cannot breathe. Don't say it. Don't say it. THe thought is desperate.

"O-orihime?" The voice is low, warm- wrong.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She screams.

It is too much. He recoils, he understands.

Her power has always been drawing out the human from the inhumane.

Ichigo never knew to what extent, but every year the nightmares become worse. He did this to her. If he could have saved her sooner… had he been stronger.

He doesn't know.

Orihime, listened. She listened when Ichigo told him that Rukia chose Renji over him. How could she not? The echo of a love she had felt for him remained steady enough that after the 1,000 year war, they relied on one another. Perhaps, more than they should have.

She never told him though.

He haunts her dreams most nights. It is easy to play it off as a nightmare, it is, in reality. A nightmare she cannot escape from.

Loneliness and shared pain, brought them together, and years after she thought he would never return her feelings- Ichigo did. Why? Why, couldn't they have gone on being platonic partners. Partners who stayed close, his heartache when Renji delivered the news of their child must have spurned him to move on. She should have been honest then. She wasn't.

Even Ishida confronted her, but never Ichigo.

She rarely feels desire. But, the loneliness becomes unbearable on the day.

And that was how they first slept together. The pain was worse in the aftermath of their coupling. And since then, the nightmares have become so vivid. So, unbearably, vivid.

She feels his ashes slip through her fingers.

Sees him disappear from her outstretched hand.

Hears his words over, and over.

Ichigo, doesn't ask.

Orihime, doesn't tell him.

She hopes, hopes the child growing in her womb will change the pain- lessen it somehow. But, she doesn't know how it could.

Her heart is slowing down, she looks at her chest where she's marked up her sternum again. Balls her hands over the spot, and stares.

Stares out of her window, which faces the pale waning crescent moon.