I found this ancient fic at adultfanfic.net---I'd thoroughly forgotten I'd written it.
Stay With Me
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach; Kubo Tite invented the characters of Ishida and Nemu, and I’m just playing with them.
Description: This story was written in answer to a challenge from cal_reflector; he wrote the beginning narrative, "Healing," which can be found here: http://www.livejournal.com/community/kurosaki_clinic/572866.html?nc=4&style=mine
Essentially what happens in "Healing" is an Ishida who has lost his Quincy powers is rescued from a punk-beating by Nemu, who is on a deployment mission from Soul Society. She heals him and is about to return to Soul Society when….
Warnings: Herein is NC17 stuff; I dare not call it "smut" because it involves a dear Quincy conscience and innocence, but since Ishida’s other parts are also involved, I must warn the easily embarrassed and those with heart conditions that acts of potentially arousing heterosexual intimacy occur in this fic. ^_^
"Stay with me."
Nemu sat up, her legs still straddling Ishida’s hips. His hands held her upper arms with a light but insistent grip.
I must be out of my mind. Ishida was aware of the fact that he was literally not seeing things clearly. He remembered the pair of glasses that had been crushed into glitter on a gray, greasy pavement earlier in some other lifetime, and right now his second pair was sliding off his face. He didn’t dare let go of Nemu, so the glasses fell. Then all he could sense was the blur of desire, a woman’s thighs pressing him, her black braid dangling over his face.
"I need to go," said a mild and composed voice, "but I want to stay."
Ishida could see enough to note the indecision in Nemu’s eyes, the gorgeous flush on her cheeks.
"Please," he said, because he could not think of anything else to say. Did a persuasive argument exist for this sort of situation? There was no good reason for him to be inviting a Shinigami into his bed. "Please," he repeated in a hoarse voice, and he thought that he sounded pathetic.
But pathetic worked, and Nemu’s leaned into him once more, her body melting against his.
They did not kiss this time. Nemu pressed her cheek against his, and he just held her. He could feel her breasts beneath Shinigami cloth against his own bare chest. His arms were wrapped around a ribcage that felt impossibly small and fragile.
He had never held a girl before--short of scooping up Inoue to rescue her from a sword whack to the neck. He had never even kissed one before today, and he had to wonder: Is she real? Am I touching a person or a gigai? His hand began slow sweeping motions across her back. Why do you feel so real? Am I touching a soul?
"Quincy," came a whisper at his ear. "I mean, Ishida-san …Uryuu?"
"What? Am I doing something wrong?" he asked, even though he could not stop running his hands across her neck and shoulders. His hands were moving of their own accord; his fingers swept in searching gestures against the black Shinigami fabric.
"Don’t stop," she said, lifting her head to look at him. His fingers pressed, and her dark eyes widened, as if the mere sensation of being caressed was startling, and it occurred to Ishida that maybe she had never--
Mayuri-sama would not approve.
Nemu wore no cloth under her short black uniform and could feel the boy’s arousal on her wet sex. The hardness there, though, was less gratifying than the softness of his fingers as they kneaded her back. She had watched the hands of healers glide across flesh this way, but she had never been the recipient of such gentleness.
Her breath was slowing. She could see how deeply her own chest was rising and falling. She parted her lips to let out air and heard herself pant. The sound did something to the boy because he opened his own mouth and looked at her pleadingly.
"Yes," she heard herself say. "I will stay… but just this one night."
She had never seen such a look on anyone’s face. The night the Quincy, standing in golden haze of Mayuri-sama’s ban kai, had ripped an arrow through her father’s heart, there had been no triumph in those dark blue eyes, only a sort of mournful understanding.
Ishida Uryuu was looking at her that way now--it was a bewildered young face but one possessing a fierce intelligence, a disconsolate beauty.
Nemu had wanted him the night he shot Mayuri-sama, and she wanted him now.
She got off the bed and began to undress. First, she bent over to pull off her white socks. Her small sandals were already outside the front door next to his large black shoes, and she wondered if someone came upon the sight, would he think…? No. No one has to know. No one will ever know. Mayuri-sama will never find out.
She untied the large white sash at her waist and felt enormous relief as the tight fabric around her body loosened. Amazingly, Uryuu did not keep his eyes locked on her body. He kept looking to her face for emotional cues, and Nemu was sorry that she was trained so well in looking detached.
She dropped the simple white undershirt and had only begun to climb back into the bed when the boy made a sighing sound and rose to take her into his arms. His lips brushed her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. His black hair was sweeping across her white skin as he kissed and kissed her. His mouth and hands were exploring her with an earnestness she would not have believed possible the first time she saw him--a cool and serious Quincy speaking measured threats against a Shinigami captain. Who would ever have guessed that she and this boy--?
His lips were even gentler than his hands. As he rolled on top of her and began to nip and suck lightly at her breasts, Nemu knew: this is the way it is supposed to be.
Ishida had no clue what he was doing; all he knew was that his mouth idolized the lovely white body in his bed. He was the sort of person who strategized, anticipated and planned, and here he was lost to his own rising passion--not a single logical landmark in sight. Nemu was all whiteness except for the black ribbon she still wore around her neck and a smooth triangle of black hair between her legs. Even though Ishida knew she had a fearsome reiatsu and enough strength to carry his body, flash-stepping all the way, from the alley where he had fallen, he was afraid of bruising her. He touched her here and there as if her skin might break….
But when his mouth closed around one dark pink nipple, he felt his muscles strain against his longing, and his fingernails dug into her shoulders. She responded by wrapping those amazing legs around his waist. Ishida was still wearing his boxer shorts, although they were seeping wet, from either his juices or hers, and the fabric felt like an annoyance between his legs. He detached himself from Nemu long enough to wriggle out of the shorts, and then he kissed her mouth.
Am I taking advantage of her? She kissed me first. She kissed me first.
The urgency in the boy’s body required that Nemu take charge right away. He was not at all prepared for the most intimate of sexual acts. She tried to pull away from his mouth, but it hungrily pressed harder against her teeth and tongue.
She took his hand by the wrist and placed it between her legs. He startled at the gesture and stopped kissing her.
Nemu was practiced in the healing arts and various fighting techniques, studied in calligraphy and flower arrangement, and she had learned much about responses to pleasure and pain in Captain Kurotshuchi’s laboratory.
"Put your fingers inside."
He began to fondle the wet hair with his long fingers. She didn’t want this sort of languorous foreplay, and with a firm gesture, her hand pushed his fingers inside. She didn’t gasp, but he did. Three of his fingers were nestled in her wetness, and she clenched around them in appreciation.
Nemu met his eyes as her hand guided his. He was blinking, looking at her with such innocent anticipation, lips parted and breath staggering--Nemu felt herself smile. "It’s alright. I’m not a virgin. Move your thumb outside this way." And she rubbed her forefinger over his thumb in little circles. He got the hang of it right away, and as the waves of delight washed over her, Nemu brought both her hands to his face and leaned forward to kiss him.
She moaned into his mouth. She began to rock her hips over his hand, pushing against the long fingers inside her. This is the hand that drew the bow. This is the hand that could command such power that the pieces of roof tile turned into purple light and soared into his palm.
At first Ishida felt powerless. Here was a beautiful girl humping his hand, and he wasn’t really doing anything to elicit those little moans she was making as she kissed him. Then as she began to rock faster, he felt his hand clench so that his fingers inside her and his thumb outside her were touching; it felt like his fingertips were holding a woman’s ecstasy by the hem.
She dropped her face against his neck. "Uryuu," she said, and the hot breath from her mouth stirred him into delirium. He wanted to speak, to say her name as well, but he couldn’t.
"Let me tell you this brat’s name… Kurotshuchi Nemu … my daughter."
Her soft whimpering reminded him of when she had lain cut by her father’s sword, and the Despicable Shinigami had ridiculed her for making noises. No, Ishida told himself and he felt his eyes moisten even as his arousal thickened. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re safe now, Nemu. You’re safe with me.
She made a soft growling sound of exertion, as if she were trying to stave off a giant pressure, and Ishida ran his fingers across the smooth black head bowed at his shoulder.
"Nemu," he whispered, and she began to shudder.
Her shoulders bucked against him for a few seconds. Then she was very still.
The rest of the night would be measured by those little seizures. Uryuu came in her hand. Nemu licked her fingers because the taste of him was different--light and salty like miso, not bitter and chemical like her father’s. Even after he released, Uryuu did not stop caressing her. When light from the window was all gone and it was blackest midnight, he kissed her whole body--her hands, the inside of her arms, her small belly--and then he opened her legs and kissed her there. She came, this time thrashing and crying. She slept for a little while and awoke to find him still touching her. Nemu loved the brushing of his fingertips against her shoulders more than anything else, but then he would kiss her and she would think his sweet mouth was the best part.
Uryuu Ishida was a quiet lover. She could have guessed this from the steely way he held his composure after being slashed by Ashisogi Jizou. She felt challenged to move him; she wanted to make him cry out. So she took him into her mouth and lapped at him so delicately that he begged her to move faster. She didn’t like the sobbing sound in his throat so she moved faster, and then he did cry out. And when he drifted into exhausted sleep, she lay next to him, still petting his long black hair, watching him breathe until colors reemerged from the window and early dawn fell across his pale skin.
Nemu did not want to leave.
She decided against waking him with kisses for one last session of gentle touching and then hesitated before stepping out of the bed. No, this is the way it should be. She gathered her clothes and turned her socks inside out before putting them back on. She found his glasses on the floor and placed them on the dresser.
It’s better this way. He won’t be a target if he has no powers.
Street punks did not concern her; those pitiful humans in the alley had never meant to kill him. The skies would be full of a new threat soon, however, and it was better if Ishida Uryuu had no contact with Shinigami whatsoever.
Nemu stood in the peacefulness of the room and stared at the lovely sleeping boy. Stay with me, she said to the feeling that was rising in her chest. Stay with me and be my comfort when the heavens are at war.
Then she opened the door and left.
Author’s note: I hope that cal_reflector continues to ride away with his muse with his Ishida x Nemu romance, even if it ventures into A/U as the manga progresses. I’m fond of the pairing now, and there’s so much story potential. Ishida and I will be returning to Orihime now, but I thank cal reflector so much for the challenge. I had to think a lot for this scene, and I feel like it was good for me to push my writing outside of my canon comfort zone. Besides, it’s always fun to write to write a lemon scene! ^_^