Just a PWP. Sorry guys, I still can't write straight-up porn so this is a little longish.... and, erm, cheesy. But cheesy suits IshiHime so.
This fic actually seems anti-Bleach Kink Meme, version 2 but I'm going to pimp the meme and I may go back there to see if I can get an idea to further along my RenIshi, which at this point, is sadly platonic....
The Cheese with the Beautiful Name
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite invented the character of Inoue Orihime and made October 3 her birthday. If she’s a Virgo, it’s all his doing. If she’s not a Virgin, it’s mine.
Description: NC-17, PWP with CharacterizationSomeCharacterization written for Inoue Orihime’s birthday Oct. 3, 2007. The title of this fic comes from something I heard my six-year-old daughter say once and from something funny I read on this blog.
Warnings: Teenagers have sex. Memory of a character death. Lots of indulgent description about non-sexual things.
shoji no ana no
ama no gawa.
A lovely thing to see
through the paper window's hole,
~Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827)
Orihime showered in a hurry, squirted some toothpaste into her mouth and didn’t bother to brush (she loved to eat toothpaste). Only after she sat on the bed and began to comb her wet hair did she notice that it was the middle of the night.
The weight of wet terrycloth oppressed her skin, so she untied the bathrobe and shook it off her shoulders. Nights were made for nakedness, and even a towel would’ve felt like too much.
She kept combing. Long, easy strokes that sprinkled water on her lap.
Ah yes, naked was the way to go.
Orihime couldn’t understand why for years and years of muggy monsoon weather it had never occurred to her to go without pajamas at night. She’d worn pajamas as long as she could remember. Cheap polyblend shirt and pants sets. In middle school she’d learned to embroider little flowers on the collars.
Maybe Uryuu could stitch some on her winter jammies? Orihime’s embroidery skills were limited, but Uryuu could spin a whole garden of whipped spider wheels before Orihime could finish a single fly stitch.
She tossed her head back.
“You’re raining on me,” Uryuu said.
He was curled in the fetal position. He often fell asleep like that, sideways on the narrow mattress. With knees pulled close to his body so his legs wouldn’t hang over the edge.
His long-toed feet hung over a little, though.
“Keep doing it,” he murmured. “Feels nice.” Orihime, brushing violently now, splashed more water on his nude legs. “Mmm.” He turned his face to the open window, and not opening his eyes, smiled a little. “Mmm.”
An outdoor mercury lamp cast a hazy blueness into the room.
Orihime waved her comb like a fairy wand over the backs of Uryuu’s knees. Drops fell, twinkling in the frothy blue light. She bowed her head and swept the full length of her drenched hair across his ankles.
“Your feet are as pretty as your hands,” she said, not for the first time.
They’d been lovers for two months, since the end of first term, second year. Physical love had seemed like an otherworldly inevitability then. A swim from the end of one galaxy to the beginning of another. A distance vast as Soul Society to Hueco Mundo. And because Uryuu had been dying of loneliness all his life and Orihime had been languishing for touch, they fell into an adventure that had become a mutual rescue.
In July a very bad storm had reached Tokyo and the power had been knocked out for days, and because no one could sit at their televisions or computers, neighbors sat on balconies and porchsteps and waved at one another. Everyone learned that there was a girl living in Uryuu’s apartment. Weird wide grins of approval. Hot fizzy drinks and salty snacks. It was like the grown-ups were on vacation too. When the konbini got electricity, there were lines for fresh fish but the ice cream machine wasn’t working. That night when Orihime was pretending that the insides of Uryuu’s thighs were vanilla softserve, the lights came on. Her shut eyes saw red and Uryuu gasped so loudly that she guessed she’d accidentally scaled some sexual plateau or--
“What did I do?” She’d squeaked the words. “Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, ah, no.” That far-away July he’d still been given to falling into breathless embarrassment over the slightest things. “I was … I was just surprised about the power coming on and ….” Lifting himself to his elbows, he’d blinked at her. “You look wonderful. I mean, suddenly it’s really bright in here. I meant to replace the old lightbulbs with compact fluorescent--You know what it was? I forgot that we go to bed completely naked now. Maybe the bulbs I put in were thirty watt instead of--”
She’d kissed him. “We can keep ice cream in the refrigerator again. We can freeze leftovers. Oh Uryuu, let’s go get some popsicles and stuff right now!”
But the novelty of resplendent indoor lighting kept them from the konbini for another half-hour. They made love first then walked to buy frozen desserts.
Through August, they kept forgetting to turn the lights off before falling asleep and hours melted and afternoon naps messed with their biorhythms. Otherworldliness. Long dreamless stretches of sleep and not knowing what time of day it was when you woke up.
These days Orihime was more conscious of the ordinariness of the Living World. Maybe because school had started last week? Maybe because Uryuu, who didn’t wake up with the sunlight like she usually did, set an alarm clock.
It wasn’t the first time that she’d bolted up wide-awake, hours before dawn, and taken a shower. Time still didn’t make the sense it used to.
He looked dead asleep but Orihime wasn’t sure. She crawled closer and ran her hair over his ribs to rouse him.
“Uryuu,” she continued brightly, “let’s take a bath. You can sleep there if you want. I’ll hold you so you don’t drown. And in the morning you won’t have to waste time taking a shower because you’ll be all clean!”
It amused Orihime to think of it, but sex exhausted Uryuu the way it didn’t exhaust her. She had him beat in stamina but he was better at everything else. For example, speed wasn’t one of her superpowers but from sexual encounter one he could slide on a condom faster than you could see it happening--flying to the nightstand drawer and then leaning, fully-accessorized, over Orihime’s body, in perfect defiance of human time.
Awww. He needs the alarm clock, though.
She ran her hand through his hair, the roots of which were damp from sweat. More than anything, Orihime wanted to cuddle in a cool tub with his fingers moving dreamily underwater between her legs, but Uryuu had looked bleary-eyed in school all week. She herself could take catnaps under her eyelids during English lab, but Uryuu wasn’t the sort to doze in public.
“I won’t bother you,” she whispered.
She lay down, her face to his and watched his unconsciousness for a minute. Pale lids like blue-veined shells. Like the shiny clams she gathered at the ocean when she was a kid. The barely perceptible rapid-eye-movements under them told her that he was dreaming. She couldn’t help it; she touched his eyelids to see if she could sense the dreams underneath.
Not one of her powers. She so wished that she could see what he was dreaming about.
Then his exhaustion reminded her of his clutching her upper arms and straining over her only hours ago, and she thought she might come just from gazing at his face and shoulders.
Funny but before Uryuu she’d only managed a short-lived shudder or two. Nothing to write about in her diary. There were other things besides orgasms that made life spectacular. Long talks with Tatsuki. Being able to heal people. Ice cream.
Uryuu made her crazy for sex.
Every night. Twice every night. Sometimes before dinner if she could convince Uryuu to interrupt his cooking or switch the stove from bake to warm. Every morning--
Hey, school was getting in the way of morning love. No wonder she’d been feeling deprived lately.
Not taking her eyes from Uryuu’s sleeping face, Orihime cupped a breast with one hand and slid the other between her thighs. Quincy accuracy and delicate speed had spoiled her, and her own hands seemed thick and clumsy.
She was breathing hard, though, before she’d spun the third circle over her soft clit.
She wanted to lean forward and suck on Uryuu’s upper lip but she didn’t dare wake him up. She could smell her own body getting excited and she wondered if that warm, metallic scent would wake him. Then the very idea that he might wake up excited her more.
He smelled like night air.
Yes, that was nice and summery and fresh but she wanted to taste him.
Uryuu was a very clean person who always brushed his teeth but whatever he’d cooked that evening lingered on his fingers. Orihime wanted his heavy miso taste in her mouth. Sometimes she could taste nori and spices when he came under her tongue. One day she’d made him eat nothing but fruit (he liked dense, salty foods like meat and didn’t care for fresh fruit) to see if his semen would taste like applesauce. Uryuu said he’d almost fainted twice from hunger so while Orihime ate a zucchini salad, he ate a bunch of hot chuku-man from the konbini--one curry-fragrant bun after another.
Oh, his teeth and tongue had tasted like curry. Orihime loved food but sex with food was the best thing ever. Maybe Uryuu would let her cover him with sesame oil one day.
She let out an involuntary moan.
Her cheeks and ears were burning. She pinched her nipple with her thumbnail.
“Uryuuuu.” She couldn’t help it. She breathed the word softly. It was habit this close to orgasm. “Uryuuuu.”
His eyes shot open.
The sight made her flush hotter, not from embarrassment but from anticipation. She didn’t think he caught her masturbating before but knowing him and his Quincy pride, he wouldn’t let her finish by herself.
One blink, two, and Uryuu’s eyes went from dazed to intrigued. They were sharp and hard blue.
He’d been getting handsomer in recent days. Orihime didn’t think that this was her imagination. His face held a hard-jawed look Orihime hadn’t seen before. Whenever he concentrated on a task, aimed an arrow or wanted to conceal his feelings, his face looked older, but lately the muscles around his mouth seemed edgier, less boyish, his lips fuller--as if bitten or fevered. Anytime he fixed his eyes on her, he looked absolutely dashing.
Or maybe he had always been this dashing and she hadn’t noticed.
Overcome with sudden guilt for having overlooked this marvelous person all that time she’d been fixated on Kurosaki-kun, Orihime reached to touch his face.
He stopped her hand before it got there and returned it to her breast.
“Please.” His voice was hard. “Don’t stop.”
She opened her mouth to speak but only “uh” came out.
He backed away. He rose on one elbow. A swathe of black hair fell across his eyes and he pushed it back and watched. Watched without another word.
The interruption had given Orihime new breath. She speeded up her rubbing and tweaked her nipple again. She stared back at Uryuu with an open mouth.
Only his hands could give her the really huge over-and-over like fireworks orgasms so it was a kind of delicious torture that he wasn’t touching her now.
“Aren’t you…?” She panted. “Aren’t you going to do something?”
“I am,” he whispered, and Orihime’s attention was drawn to a stiff shoot among blue-black hairs. Uryuu’s hand hovered over his cock and brushed it lightly every so often. He had that sort of willpower; Orihime didn’t. She pressed her fingers harder against herself and imagined that to lift them away would be Intolerable Hell.
“I’m going to--” It might disappoint him if she came too fast.
“Please do,” he said. A dark smile on his damn handsome face.
She spasmed. She let out a coughing sound and then a little squeak. Wave after wave of warmth resonated in her tummy.
She lay staring into Uryuu’s eyes, expecting a kiss.
He didn’t kiss her.
What was up with him? Uryuu was an aggressive lover once he got started. Orihime hadn’t been able to top him, not once, because he would always flip her over easily as a rag-doll and start thrusting with perfect metrical confidence.
He was pumping himself gently now.
The mere sight of those narrow hips. Orihime caught her breath. His upper legs were colored blue-gray in the vague light, but she could see the quadriceps of his thighs flex, and the shadow under his hipbone disappeared when he made a small thrust forward. He held himself like that, moving his hips rather than his hand.
She caught his eyes. They were impatient.
They also had dark arcs under them. He was a beautiful exhausted person, but Orihime knew that if he jumped her, it would take his usual long time to finish, and she didn’t want him to try so hard. School was in a few hours….
Oh, I’ll just put you back to sleep, my Mister Proud. With a soft mmmm, she brought her face to his lower body and kissed the hand that was working himself. He jerked with surprise and let go. That in itself was enough to make Orihime wet as a river. She loved to unsettle him. She kissed his abdomen, tongued his bellybutton, put his fingers into her mouth.
“Orihime,” he sighed.
She sucked on his testicles, which were firm as plums and just as pretty. She licked the tip of his arousal and loved the wet taste. She always did. Umeshu? She’d never had an alcoholic drink but she couldn’t imagine anything being more intoxicating than Uryuu coming in her mouth. She was born to suck cock; she liked nothing better. If Uryuu’s fingers spoiled her, her mouth returned the favor.
His fingers scrambled against her scalp, and she could his feel his trying not to yank her hair.
“No,” he pleaded and she sucked hard, feeling that desperate choked feeling she always did whenever he filled her mouth.
She moved her head back to keep just to alleviate the press of his hips against face and then she thrust forward again with her throat clenched.
He had to put his fingers inside her cheek before she let go.
“I want to make love to you,” he insisted.
“You never say the word,” she laughed. The English word was popular in manga she’d started to borrow from Chizuru. Fuck. She loved the k sound against her palate. “Fuck me, Uryuu. Fucky fuck fuck!”
He was trying not to laugh. His face was twitching sexily and the corners of his mouth were smiling. “Don’t talk--you’ll make me---I mean, I’ll lose--”
“Control?” She held his shoulders as he entered her--so easily she thought he might slide out. She was so wet. Her muscles contracted around him. Her thighs rose, clasped him by the waist. “You are bossy, Ishida Uryuu. Maybe I don’t want to do what you want!”
“Then by all means….” He kissed her. He spoke into her mouth. “Do whatever you want.”
“I want to fuck you,” she teased and her hips began popping forward in a series of playful motions.
“Ah!” he gasped and for a moment Orihime thought she’d hit on something fabulous and he was too easy to please. Then he said, “I forgot the condom!”
“No problem.” Orihime’s hips persisted with their optimistic rhythm. “You can just pull out before.”
“That’s not--” He lowered his head. “Statistically….” He couldn’t protest. Orihime knew she had him and her legs squeezed tighter. “Please, Orihime.”
He let her set the pace and he shut his eyes.
“Why didn’t you let yourself come in my mouth?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation. Take your mind off things. It will help with the control, ne?”
“Not that kind of conversation.”
“What? About coming in my mouth? Why didn’t you do that?”
His shoulders shook and Orihime wasn’t sure if he was suppressing a laugh or the urge to orgasm. “I know, I know,” he panted. “Better than ice cream. But I want you this way--”
“Ice cream isn’t my favorite food,” she said casually. Her body was warm with passion but there was nothing urgent happening in her lower body yet. “I like cheese better than ice cream.”
“That’s right.” Uryuu put his thumbs on her hipbones.
“What’s that cheese with the beautiful name?”
“Um.” He was trying to slide his hand over her clit while she bumped him. “Camembert?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“What’s that? Arab cheese?”
“Yes.” He found her spot and started rubbing. His face relaxed a little with the triumph. “Jibneh Arabieh was served in that Lebanese restaurant you liked so much.”
Orihime circled her hips counterclockwise to Uryuu’s rubbing. Thinking of Lebanon made her think of belly-dancing. She threw her head back and grinned with purest delight. “You’re lactose intolerant. Why do you remember the names of so many cheeses?”
“I--” His lips brushed her cheek. He nipped her earlobe. “I pay attention to the things you like.” His voice was always like velvet, and when it was husky like this it was….
“Velveeta!” Orihime gasped.
Uryuu startled because she’d said the word so loudly and pulled his face away, but Orihime put her hands in his hair and drew him back with apologetic caresses.
Something had jostled his concentration tonight; maybe it was all the cheese talk or maybe he was just tired, but he didn’t last. He made a simple noise in his throat that was halfway between a moan and a sigh of distress, and he pulled out.
He pressed his abdomen against Orihime’s tummy so he wouldn’t squirt all over the place. Her tidy Uryuu. The warmth and stickiness spread over her skin and some managed to seep between her breasts. He shook, noiselessly but with no restraint, and as he came, Orihime’s chest hurt with love for him.
The way he convulsed in her arms never failed to remind of her of the time he took a deathblow for her. He wasn’t a Shinigami; he couldn’t, like Kurosaki-kun, withstand a cero to his back and then fly back to the fight. The enemy’s zanpakutou had torn through his lungs and into his heart, and the force of sword had shoved the two of them for several meters. Both groaned as they hit the ground, and Uryuu’s upper arms jerked, oddly, violently, under Orihime’s hands. Her shoulderblades burned--sand and gravel had cut through the back of her Arrancar outfit--and then she saw the long braided tsuka sticking out from Uryuu’s back.
The tip of the sword had cracked through his chestbone and torn through his clothes but it hadn’t grazed Orihime. He bled on her chest, through her clothes and into her skin.
He died in her arms.
She wouldn’t remember later but somehow she’d managed to pull the sword out of him with her own strength; she’d managed to heal him, all the while believing that she couldn’t, and it was all the greater miracle because she had been too distraught to concentrate. She’d sobbed while lying on his back, her nose in his hair, the two of them surrounded by the blinding light of Souten Kisshun. What could she reject? His sacrifice? That his love for her exceeded hers for him? It never would again.
She’d been choking, gasping for breath and digging her fingers into the folds of his cape when she felt him stir. He was weak, and if she hadn’t gotten off him, he wouldn’t have been able to budge. But he did. He sat up, and the startled concern for her on his face was what wounded Orihime’s heart again. He opened his arms and she fell against him, hysterical, while the fairies maintained their dense golden canopy and his large hands patted her hesitantly. “Inoue-san, it’s alright. We’re both alive. Inoue-san, please don’t cry.”
She herself had been healed at that moment.
She held him like that now, wanting to cry. He loved her so much, and she would never be a dummy to that wonderful truth ever again.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. His whole hand worked her--three fingers inside, his thumb pressing outside. “It’ll happen soon.”
How did he do it? Catch her when her soul was in her throat and hold her there? She was writhing under him, a throbbing between her eyes, another deep in her solar plexus, the tips of her fingers and toes on fire.
Then a pang of something awful seared Orihime’s body. No relief. She arched her back and clutched the sheets. “God. Uryuu. Please.”
He was breathing harder than she was, scarcely recovered from his own release, and kissing her neck. “Let go.”
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “I can’t control it.”
He opened his mouth against her hair. She felt a hot breath of exertion against her forehead and he plunged his bony knuckles deeper inside. His fingers opened there, and her juices gushed over them. She was that ready.
“Uryuu!” She was moaning now.
“I love you, I love you,” he whispered. The words were frail, agitated breaths against her face. “I love you.”
Her pelvis jutted forward so hard it almost knocked his hand away, and her thighs splayed while she came and came.
When she stopped shaking, she still didn’t stop moaning, only she was moaning from gratification now, in amazement. Aftershocks of pleasure resonated behind her ears, sent warm rolling echoes through her consciousness.
He rolled away from her and in the long time it took her to recover, she thought he’d fallen asleep.
He lay, eyes closed, face to the mercury lamp when she leaned over to kiss him.
He wasn’t asleep.
“Velveeta?” he asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s American,” she said. “Tatsuki’s mom had some once and she made these things called grilled Velveeta sandwiches for us. I never tasted anything so creamy before.”
Uryuu let out a little snort and half-smiled. “Really?”
“Probably the most expensive cheese in the world,” Orihime said. “Mrs. Arisawa said her brother eats it all the time in Florida, and he’s a very successful, discriminating businessman.”
“I’ll find some for your birthday,” Uryuu said. It was the determined tone he used when swearing on his Quincy Pride.
They took the bath that Orihime wanted them to take, even though Uryuu (not at all reluctant about letting her step in first so he could lie in her arms) said that they were both going to fail second year.
“We’ll get up in time for school,” Orihime promised.
“I don’t want to,” Uryuu said.
Before they made love again, Uryuu said that there was still so much about her that he didn’t know, like the Velveeta, he should’ve known that by now, and Orihime told him that the fun part was going to be finding all that stuff out about one another. She closed her eyes and saw a galaxy of stars.
By the time the mercury lamp had dissolved into dawn, they were asleep in a drained tub and Orihime was dreaming that she had to power to read his dreams.
A/N: I wrote this while listening to Non-tan sing “Kaku Kana Yoru Sora Ni” so that explains some of the cheesiness. Here’s the song if you want it: http://www.megaupload.com/?d=5XWU0IL2