Remember, a bleach fanfic

…

He watched her.

All the time, he watched her.

How could it be that she was so happy when he was so miserable?

"I'll meet you later, Inoue?" The dick whispered to her. Ichigo's eyes narrowed as they looked around the corner at the two. They were huddled together, eyes locked, bright hair and dark hair, curvy and lean. He couldn't take it.

"Hai! Outside, promise, Ishida-kun!"

"Be careful." He gave her tiny hand a firm squeeze.

The same hand…

"Like that, Ichigo?"

"F-Fuck…"

He blinked, breaking himself from the flashes of memories. They wouldn't be memories for long. He stiffened as it began, focusing his narrowed eyes at the scene in front of him. The empty halls just cascaded through his stomach, runging with the isolation.

They leaned in.

Lips met.

Orihime giggled vaguely as Ishida smiled, moving away from her, carrying his dumbass supplies for sowing club. Orihime watched him go, wide eyes slowly simmering from her cheerful expressions. Ichigo watched as her slim shoulders slumped, her head lowering.

He could remember his arms around her tiny shoulders, holding her close.

"That tickles, Ichi! S-Stop it!"

He clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes narrowing into slits as she turned. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth parting when she saw him. As always, she lowered her head once again, stiffened her shoulders, clenched her hands around the strap of her bag, hardening her walk.

This wouldn't be like always.

This was going to fucking change.

She was already walking past him. And that fucking scent.

Fuck.

She would surely be the death of him. He gathered his courage, because he only had one chance for this. Fuck it. Fuck school. Fuck his annoying friends. He didn't want any of it. Not without her.

His hand shot out.

She gasped, her head turning, her long hair, the long hair that he used to run his hands through on hot afternoons, swishing around her slim waist. She looked at his face, his hard face, and then down at the fingers clamped around her arm, her eyes bugging wider.

"K-Kurosa—"

"I'm done," he growled out, breaking her, tightening his grip. "I'm fucking done, Hime."

Oh…my…

Her nickname. She hadn't been called that in so long. And with that voice. His scratchy, sultry voice that made her toes curl. But she managed to speak, managed to look back up at him, take in his fiery amber eyes, her mouth opening to whisper,

"W-What?"

And then she was pulled towards him.

…

It was dark.

That was the first thing she thought.

And his scent was everywhere. And, darn it, did she love that scent. The spice and masculine and just Kurosaki-kun…

Then the lights flickered on.

This was…t-this was…

"No…" She managed to whisper, "N-No…I don't want to be here."

Suddenly, she was trapped, his strong arms pinning her against the old, creaky table that used to rock against the wall when they…No. She shook her head, but couldn't stop her heated cheeks and her breathing growing harsh. And his eyes. Gosh, his eyes. They wouldn't stop burning down at her, igniting something that she hadn't felt for more than three months. His arms trapped her on either side of her. She was definitely trapped. And why did that make her heart beat so?

"Really?" He whispered down to her, "That wasn't what you were saying a few months back."

Her mouth opened once again, this time in mortification and shock. Her eyes widened and became moist, cheeks burning hotly, "K-Kurosaki-kun…"

"Stop." And she did. "Stop fucking calling me that."

Her lips shook. "B-But—"

"You know my name. You know what to call me." His voice.

"I-I-I know, but—"

"Shut up." And she did. "Ever since you fucking dumped me, that's all you call me. Stop. Calling. Me. That."

She gasped, pushing her head up, looking him back in the eye. And she wish she hadn't. She couldn't contain herself when he looked at her like that. Not with his amber eyes, the warm chocolate, the heated brown that made her stomach clench and her knees to press together.

He leaned close, his eyes locking with hers. No. Not so close. But he got closer until his breath was on hers, until he was panting from the hot, tense air. She whimpered, her lips shaking once again, her hands clenching next to his around the table's edge.

"Ichigo," he murmured hotly, and she jerked, "I-chi-go. That's my fucking name."

And then he kissed her.

…

How long, exactly, had she waited for this moment. How long had she dreamt of this, whimpering in the dark, yearning for more than the Quincy? Yearning for more than just soft pecks and sweet words?

But not like this.

Not like this…

He was addicted. More than addicted, to be accurate. He wanted her. He wanted all of her. He wouldn't allow himself to have a half, he wouldn't allow himself to have a quarter. He would have all of her. And he wasn't taking no for an answer. Not anymore.

And he pulled back to see her wide eyes staring up at him, her lips pursed slightly, her cheeks violently red. And he fucking loved it. He loved her.

"Kuro—"

"Wrong."

And he leaned down, ravaging her mouth fully. He could remember when he used to do this, surprise her with his kisses, mute her with his teeth and tongue. But now. He was taking it. She gasped, surprised at the ferocity of his kiss. She made a mistake. She opened her mouth. Ichigo felt himself go into a frenzy.

He kissed her harder, hotter, deeper, moving his tongue into her mouth wetly, heatedly, growling his appreciation when she whimpered, fingers tightening around the table, as he slanted his mouth over hers violently, almost aggressively, possessively. He ravaged her mouth thoroughly, licking her lips. Orihime was the first to gather her logic.

She squeaked, leaning away from him, her eyes moist now, her lips swollen and red. She shuddered under him, unable to move and break her gaze from his.

"D-D-Don't, Kurosaki—"

"Wrong."

She gasped loudly as he moved down, kissing her neck. His lips and tongue moved across the pale column and he obviously had good memory because he found her sweet spot quickly. She jerked in his arms, her fingers tightening to cramping point as she gripped the table. He bit into her neck, leaving marks here and there. She began to remember when he marked her, the possessive look in his eye while she'd gasp and whine his name.

"That's not my fucking name, Hime."

And his hands lifted for the first time. She gasped once again as rough, familiar fingers moved up her curvy sides, touching her waist, squeezing her hips. And she remembered. No. No. Stop it.

He wasn't surprised when she started to wiggle under him, fighting from the desired haze, "S-Stop, Kurosaki-kun! We can't! I-I'm n-n-not with you anymore!"

And he snapped.

Her eyes bugged as he grabbed her slim wrist, holding it high over her head. Her damp lips parted, "K-Kurosaki…kun?"

"That's the fucking point, Orihime!"

She recoiled in shock at his heated, dark tone, "W-Wha—"

"How do you think I feel? How I feel seeing you with that damned prick every day? Watching you hold hands with him, watching you kiss him right in my fucking face?" He was shouting at this point and she was glad the school was empty.

"I-I…"

His eyes locked with hers, fierce and burning and furious, "Do you know many times I wanted to kill him? How many times I wanted to rip his fucking arms off for touching you? Do you?"

She couldn't…

He chuckled darkly and she tensed at the sound, "You move on quick, Orihime. Did I not fuck you enough?"

Once again, she jerked, "N-No! I mean…I-I mean…"

He leaned closer, "Does he fuck you, Hime?"

She felt her cheeks boil and her stomach clench once again. Her insides felt warm and her head was becoming light. She couldn't think. Not when he was using such vulgar words and hot breaths and heated gaze and scorching fingers.

Stop.

Stop it.

"I-I don't want this!" She whispered, but kept her gaze down on their shoes, so close together, "I-Ishida-kun and I are together, Kurosaki-kun…P-Please," he continued to move his hands up as if she hadn't spoken. "P-P-Pl-Pease don't…"

And he cupped her breasts.

She gasped, automatically arching her back towards him, opening her neck and chest. Ichigo instantly leaned down, sucking her skin, licking across her pulse point. He massaged her breasts gently, pulling, causing her to whimper and whine under him, moving her thighs, brushing them against his erection. He groaned as she stiffened at the feeling, bringing her knees back down.

"P-Please, Kurosaki…k-kun…" she gripped his wrist in her small hands.

"Stop fighting me." He grunted in reply, removing his lips from her neck to suck in much needed breath. The air was tense around them, daring to snap with just one wrong word or movement. Ichigo wouldn't be pushed away. Not this time. Her protests were getting weaker, even she could tell, but she still fucking tried.

"S-Stop it!" She whispered when she felt the cool breeze against new, revealed flesh. She glanced down, eyes popping when she saw her exposed bra. Her struggle began in a new fervor. Ichigo was stronger, not to mention, very tall. Towering over her, in fact. Her bra was off the next second and he braced himself for the skin.

He had almost forgotten how smooth her skin was. Almost too smooth. She didn't use any cosmetics though or special lotions, he knew that. And she still smelled the same, innocence and berries. A thin sheen of sweat was sticking to her skin and her supple flesh glistened.

He growled, almost wildly, looking down at the voluptuous, firm, heaving breasts and the stiff pink nipples. They appeared painfully hard and he wouldn't mind giving into temptation. He didn't know how far he would go for her, but now he did.

"Kuros—"

Her cry was muffled by his mouth. She moaned softly under his lips, pausing on her weak fight as he slanted his lips over hers. Her back arched as his tongue forced its way inside and ran the tip over the roof of her mouth, searching the crevice for every taste of her sweetness. Without warning, one hand slid under her plump bottom, lifting her. She made a surprised sound in the back of her throat as he landed her roughly on the old table. Their lips disconnected sloppily, Ichigo's tongue still out, Orihime's mouth slick with his saliva. The heat drowned his reluctance spread and heightened his hunger for her body, soul, and love.

"Wrong." He grunted once again as he leaned down, nipping from her neck to her heaving chest. She whimpered, her moist eyes trailing downwards as he licked up to her generous, right breast. Orihime stilled automatically as his hot mouth covered a stiff nipple.

"Ah!" She cried instantly, arching into his mouth. He gripped her waist tight with one hand and held her to the cool surface. He suckled with obvious hunger, tasting her unique flavor on his tongue, groaning his appreciation as she gripped his powerful shoulders in her small hands, writhing under his mouth. He widened his lips, taking in as much as he could for more of her tang, and then bit into the nipple sharply. She whimpered once again, her thighs moving to clench around his waist, holding him there, forbidding him to move as much as she wanted him to.

He leaned back from her abused nipple, pinching the other one roughly, twisting it, pulling the pink bud. She squeaked, eyes popping wide at the familiar sensations he was creating.

"I'm guessing he doesn't." Ichigo muttered, voice still dark, eyes regarding her with heavy eyelids, thick eyelashes, amber gaze, and heavy, orange bangs.

She blinked, her cheeks flushing once again as he tugged at her other nipple, doing both in unison, "W-Wha…?"

"He doesn't touch you like I do. He can't satisfy you, can he?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but found herself unable to speak as he removed one hand from her breast to touch between her legs. She squealed, eyes bulging, as his thumb found the desire-filled button in the juncture of her thighs.

"K-K-Kur—Ah! N-Not there!" She whimpered, but Ichigo grinned darkly as her hips moved, sticky wetness sinking through her underwear, igniting a fire in his stomach. Her mouth opened wide, saliva sticking to her lips, her tongue weaseling from her lips, sticking out a bit as her cheeks flushed, her lids heavy over darkening grey eyes.

Fuck.

Without warning, he moved forward and sucked her tongue into his mouth. She couldn't find herself to fight him anymore. She clenched her uniform in her slim hands, thrusting her hips towards him. He was right. And though she hated to admit, Ishida-kun couldn't pleasure her…But she was betraying. Betraying him in the worst way possible.

Stop.

Stop it.

"N-No…" She managed to pant out when he released her abuse tongue.

"Stop fucking arguing." He stopped massaging her. The heat was unbearable. Orihime's form trembled powerfully as the throbbing between her legs increased into desperation. From underneath his lashes, he watched as she moaned wantonly, her chest heaving, her hands urgently grabbing at his shoulders, begging him to continue without saying anything. "You moan like a whore," he muttered in the heated air, "And you're fucking drenched. Don't try to pretend."

She tensed at his words as he moved his hand back up her smooth thigh, "N-N-No, Kurosaki-kun!" It was too late. The underwear was already torn and ripped from between her legs. How many times had he done this to her? How many pairs of panties did he have of hers?

"What is this?" Ichigo asked as he held up the soaking underwear, "Since the last time…" He seemed to mull it over for a few seconds while her face lit up, "I'd say…nineteenth, Hime. Wouldn't you?"

"P-P-Please…"

"Please what?" He growled back, tucking the underwear safely away, "Tell me." Orihime whimpered in protest, pushing her tiny hands against his hard chest, but nothing would keep Ichigo away as he balled up her skirt and moved it up to her waist. She couldn't keep fighting it. She knew that.

She knew…she knew she loved him.

There was no one else in the world than she loved more than him.

No one.

He kissed her again. As she opened her mouth, hesitantly accepting him, and instantly regretting the action, she whimpered, clenching her hands into fists. Without thinking, her fingers started to unbutton the shirt, shaking and trembling when they made it to the bottom. Ichigo groaned into her mouth, groaned through his greedy tongue and nipping teeth, as she ran her nails over the clenched muscles. She had always admired his body, and now she had forgotten how much she loved it.

They were both delirious by now, whimpering and groaning into each other's mouths. Ichigo allowed her to breath for a few seconds, moving his lips from hers, panting against their lips.

"You're mine, Hime." He whispered to her. Her eyes widened as he tugged down the zipper of his pants, moving them half off of him, including his boxers. Orihime's eyes popped as they came across the sharp hips, bronze skin, and the hot erection. She hadn't seen him in so long and recalled how big and warm he used to be inside of her.

And the struggling came again.

"D-Don't, Kurosaki-kun! H-He's…my boyfriend and—"

"Fucking mine." He grabbed up her thighs, and she gasped, arching her back as his tip touched her weeping slit.

"Y-You can't…N-No…Unh…"

And then he pushed into her.

…

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He was a sick bastard, and he knew that. But he would gladly accept that fucking title if it meant this every day, every hour, every minute. When he pushed into her, he was caught off guard. He instantly wrapped his arms around her, crushing her tightly.

"Fuck! You're tight."

She had always been like that. Greedily sucking him in her soft, hot wetness. She was eager, thrusting her hips up, eyes wide, sparkling with unshed tears, bruised lips parted, chest heaving, clenching fingers in his shoulders. Her inner walls clung to him tightly, almost desperately, to his throbbing cock. He felt like he could cum then and there.

"Are you still on it?" He hissed hotly against her cheek.

She whimpered against his chest, tightening her fingers, "I-I am…"

He managed to smirk darkly, "Good girl." He bent down to lick across her bottom lip before he pushed himself into her again roughly, aiming himself upwards. She jolted in his arms, obviously surprised. He chuckled, "Did you think I forgot that spot inside of you?" She didn't reply, "That spot that makes you whine and beg for more?" He thrust his hips again, growling at her tightness, at her wetness, which was slowly staining her thighs.

Ichigo grabbed up her legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist, and she locked her ankles obediently. He hadn't been wrong. She wanted this just as much as he did.

Fuck…

Ichigo gritted his teeth, sweat working on his merged brow as he moved inside of her, twitching and throbbing with heat and lust. He plunged hard into her wet heat, causing the table to hit the wall hard, making the light above them shake. He could remember fucking in this closet numerous times. And, fuck, did he love it. Orihime's mind fogged with nothing but him, nothing but him inside of her, nothing but his memories, nothing but his guttural voice and rough hands. The pleasure, his huge, scorching presence inside her, the amazing thrusts, and his thick pants overwhelmed her, sinking her in greedy want.

Ichigo cupped her supple ass, bringing her forward from the table, slipping deeper than before. And then he started. She shouted out, and he clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shh, Hime," she whimpered at the nickname, "We wouldn't want your precious Quincy finding us, now would we?"

He thrust hard and crippling into her, causing her to cry out, muffled by his palm. He pushed in and out, rocking the old table, making her legs loosen around him, her face flashing, her eyes rolling with tears from the intensity. He kept hitting that spot, over and over again. She couldn't take it.

She was close.

She was so close.

"I-Ichigo!"

He leered, "There you go." As he grabbed her shapely leg, he could feel her constrict around him, too tight, making his knees buckle from the intensity of the sensations. It had been too long. "Oh, no you don't, Hime. You aren't gonna cum." He leaned down to her ear, "Don't you remember our game?"

His dark, teasing voice had her gasping for air against the column of his throat.

"You don't cum until I say so."

"B-But…Agh!" He thrust hard into her, cutting off her words. She cried out, digging her nails into his sweaty uniform. Beads of sweat started to roll between them, drowning them out from the world, just the two of them. They would reach the goal together.

"Today, after that stupid fucking sowing club," he continued, pushing deeper and deeper, harder and harder against that spot, "you're breaking up with him."

Her silver eyes popped open, "W-What? N-No, I can't—"

He shoved harder against her, knocking his hips deeper into hers, growling at her answer, "Hime…" he warned. She didn't reply, moaning and writhing under him, "Say it."

"B-But…"

"Say it!" His cock slipped deeper, impossibly so.

"Ah! Ichigo! N-Not so h-hard…"

"Don't kid yourself. I remember how you like it." Withdrawing completely, he pulled her tighter and drove in with all his strength. She shrieked, her walls clenching unbearably tightly before he stopped all movement. She whined in protest, wet eyes opening, cheeks flaming, "Say it."

"I-I…" She swallowed and Ichigo watched as she blinked, heated tears coursing down her gorgeous, red face, "I-I will…" And he rewarded her with a hot, tongue-filled kiss that had her moaning and whispering his name.

He started to move again, this time harder and faster.

Their skin slapped together, her moans and his grunts fueling them on.

Sweaty flesh stuck and sloppy lips formed kisses.

And she's mine.

"One more thing," he whispered, leaving her lips so she could pant wildly, eyes growing wide at his passionate gaze, "Does he fuck you like this?"

She blinked, wet eyelashes brushing against red cheeks.

"Does he fuck you like I do? Does he know where to touch? Does he know where that spot inside you is? Does he fuck you, Hime?"

She whimpered, thrusting her hips against his, wild for her ending.

"Does he?" He pushed deeper, throbbing against that spot, "Does. He. Orihime?"

"N-No!" She cried, clutching his shoulders, "I-I-I don't let him touch me like that! It's y-yours! Always yours!" She looked up at him desperately, "P-Please, let me…let me cum, Ichi."

Dammit.

She knew how to trap him.

Especially with those fucking eyes.

The heated atmosphere almost snapped, dark brown meeting wide grey. Leering fiercely, he looked down at the sight he had created. Those breasts, those legs, that damp hair, those eyes…Shit.

"Cum," he ordered, "Cum for me."

She gasped loudly, mouth opening in a scream, "Ichigo!"

…

"Right."

…

Startled blue eyes looked down at her. She looked different, brighter, cheeks red and hair shining, blowing softly in the wind. Ishida felt his spine straighten, razor blades of ice moving through his ribs, telling him this was wrong.

She wouldn't…

She couldn't…

"I'm sorry," Was all she could manage to say, her steady, her eyes wide and innocent.

"B-But…we were…"

"Un. We were."

He felt something throb in his chest.

Wrong.

"I-I have to go, Ishida-kun. I'm very, very sorry." She turned away, but not before he could clamp onto her wrist.

"It's him, isn't it?" Her eyes widened, "You still love him." She was, after all, bathed in the bastard's reiatsu and he could sense the Shinigami a few yards away.

She stared at him for a few seconds. And then, she smiled, beamed really as she pulled her wrist from his grip, "It will always be him."

…

Hope you liked it. I need a Ichigo…

-Star