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kinkfestTitle: Bones in the Ground
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shiegra
Rating: pg13/r
Warnings: none
Word count: 581
Summary: She doesn't have faith in happy endings any more.
Prompt: Bleach, Ulquiorra/Orihime: reunion - do you remember standing on a broken field/white crippled wings beating the sky
His hands are cold and deliberate on her skin.
She's not afraid, and she isn't sure why. This isn't safe and it isn't smart -- he should be dead, blown away on the dry wind of Hueco Mundo, long gone to ashes and memories. But Orihime doesn't believe in happy endings anymore, and that one -- monster vanquished, hero breathing -- would have qualified, wouldn't it?
Her hands shake, but it isn't from fear. His long fingers curve over her shoulder, dark nails indenting her flesh. This close she can see subtle variation in shade, the cuticles overlapping. His nails really are black.
Orihime wants to have home, and Tatsuki, and Ichigo, and everyone she loves. But they're gone, she lost them when she blinked, and she can't turn back the whole world's time. She's not that strong.
"Are you afraid?" He asks.
"No," she whispers back, her breath feathering over his skin. She can't have them, so she'll have to make do.
He didn't know how to kiss. Orihime has to show him, soft and careful, her hands on his too-smooth, unyielding skin. You should be afraid, she reminds herself, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. But she can't find it in herself. Maybe she's too tired, though the touch of his hands prickle white lightning beneath her skin -- panic-sensation-adrenaline -- and her breath is coming too quick. She hasn't felt so alive in weeks.
Maybe she just remembers standing at the height of a ruined pillar and reaching out to a broken monster under a bone-white moon. She wonders if he ever discovered his heart -- if he has one buried beneath her hands and white skin and sleek layers of muscle.
He bites too hard and she flinches, takes a stumbling step backward -- her hands drag him with her, but he's paused, not moving. His eyes are luminescent in the shadows. He touches her like it's an unfamiliar action, switching to skimming the backs of his fingers along her sides, then down over her thighs.
Does he even have what a human boy would? She doesn't know, and his kiss shifts to a mimicry of her motions -- and then he breaks away, but under his own initiative it isn't quite a kiss, mouth against the corner of her mouth, tongue moving in slow measured strokes. He's tasting her sweat, she realizes, and can't bring herself to care. His hands on her body mean something she can't quite articulate -- and she can't quite help but wonder what it means to him. Because it doesn't mean what it would to a human. He doesn't have the same instincts they would, she figures out, so she takes a slightly different tack.
"Touch me?" She asks, capturing his light fingers. Her voice doesn't shake. "It makes me feel good."
A flicker of quiet eyes, a subtle breath. Then his mouth presses again to hers, teeth catching at her lower lip more lightly, and he follows the trail of her own hands. His nails drag lightly over her skin, but it makes her shiver in a good way and she doesn't say anything.
She makes a sound, involuntary into the night, when his nails draw across her areola, and his eyes glow green in the dark.
He lays her down beneath the cold glow of the moon, and Orihime closes her eyes, loses herself in each touch, and doesn't think about tomorrow and the broken world.
Author/Artist:
shiegraRating: pg13/r
Warnings: none
Word count: 581
Summary: She doesn't have faith in happy endings any more.
Prompt: Bleach, Ulquiorra/Orihime: reunion - do you remember standing on a broken field/white crippled wings beating the sky
His hands are cold and deliberate on her skin.
She's not afraid, and she isn't sure why. This isn't safe and it isn't smart -- he should be dead, blown away on the dry wind of Hueco Mundo, long gone to ashes and memories. But Orihime doesn't believe in happy endings anymore, and that one -- monster vanquished, hero breathing -- would have qualified, wouldn't it?
Her hands shake, but it isn't from fear. His long fingers curve over her shoulder, dark nails indenting her flesh. This close she can see subtle variation in shade, the cuticles overlapping. His nails really are black.
Orihime wants to have home, and Tatsuki, and Ichigo, and everyone she loves. But they're gone, she lost them when she blinked, and she can't turn back the whole world's time. She's not that strong.
"Are you afraid?" He asks.
"No," she whispers back, her breath feathering over his skin. She can't have them, so she'll have to make do.
He didn't know how to kiss. Orihime has to show him, soft and careful, her hands on his too-smooth, unyielding skin. You should be afraid, she reminds herself, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. But she can't find it in herself. Maybe she's too tired, though the touch of his hands prickle white lightning beneath her skin -- panic-sensation-adrenaline -- and her breath is coming too quick. She hasn't felt so alive in weeks.
Maybe she just remembers standing at the height of a ruined pillar and reaching out to a broken monster under a bone-white moon. She wonders if he ever discovered his heart -- if he has one buried beneath her hands and white skin and sleek layers of muscle.
He bites too hard and she flinches, takes a stumbling step backward -- her hands drag him with her, but he's paused, not moving. His eyes are luminescent in the shadows. He touches her like it's an unfamiliar action, switching to skimming the backs of his fingers along her sides, then down over her thighs.
Does he even have what a human boy would? She doesn't know, and his kiss shifts to a mimicry of her motions -- and then he breaks away, but under his own initiative it isn't quite a kiss, mouth against the corner of her mouth, tongue moving in slow measured strokes. He's tasting her sweat, she realizes, and can't bring herself to care. His hands on her body mean something she can't quite articulate -- and she can't quite help but wonder what it means to him. Because it doesn't mean what it would to a human. He doesn't have the same instincts they would, she figures out, so she takes a slightly different tack.
"Touch me?" She asks, capturing his light fingers. Her voice doesn't shake. "It makes me feel good."
A flicker of quiet eyes, a subtle breath. Then his mouth presses again to hers, teeth catching at her lower lip more lightly, and he follows the trail of her own hands. His nails drag lightly over her skin, but it makes her shiver in a good way and she doesn't say anything.
She makes a sound, involuntary into the night, when his nails draw across her areola, and his eyes glow green in the dark.
He lays her down beneath the cold glow of the moon, and Orihime closes her eyes, loses herself in each touch, and doesn't think about tomorrow and the broken world.
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