detective mittens (lovely_zombie) wrote,
detective mittens

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fanfiction - Thursday Night (ichihime)

TITLE: Thursday Night.
AUTHOR: lovely_zombie
PAIRING: Ichigo and Orihime.
RATING: MA+18 (for sex)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Kubo Tite's Bleach.

this is dedicated to my ihbff, chocoshins. i hope you like it and enjoy reading it, not from a chopped up msn point of view, hur.

Ichigo loves Thursday nights.

As he nods goodbye to his father and sisters from his slump on the couch, he feels a surge of inspiration in every part of his body. Making sure he hears the definitive click of the front door locking, Ichigo quickly stands and trundles into the bathroom. With a casual flick of his wrist, cold water gushes from the steel pipe, and he reaches for his toothbrush, squeezing a sticky line of minty clag onto the bristles before thrusting it into his mouth.

Ichigo's scorched amber eyes flicker across his face, as he rolls the brush in his hand, jerking it across his teeth. His brow wrinkles as he rakes his free hand through his hair, scowling as it falls messily right back to the way it was.

He rolls his eyes as his mind skips.

She smiled as she flicked her fingertips through his auburn spikes, "I... I like it messy Kurosaki-kun."

Ichigo stops trying to tame his hair as he spits the spearmint foam and gurgles fresh water. With a satisfied gasp, he wipes his lips and blinks at himself, wondering just what she sees in him.

Gotta be something, he muses optimistically, she's been with me for over a year.

The doorbell rings once, twice and Ichigo's heartbeat skips a couple of beats. He takes one final glance at his reflection and leaves the bathroom, knocking the switch on the wall with his elbow on the way out, killing the light.

Ichigo strides down the hall and within seconds, has the door swept open to reveal a vision that drives his eyes to glaze. Orihime Inoue stands on his doorstep, her porcelain skin aglow in the porch lamplight and her eyes are sparkling like stars.

"Kurosaki-kun..." She smiles and she goes to greet him further as Ichigo steps forward and catches her lips in his with an avid passion that nearly knocks her off her feet. It's a sweet and fleeting thing, and Ichigo withdraws as quickly as he entered, his cheeks pink and warm.

"S-sorry Inoue." He mutters sheepishly, searching her granite eyes for a sign of disapproval, but will never find any. Instead they shine as she smiles and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his.

"What for Kurosaki-kun?" She asks in a loving tone that implies absolute disregard to his apology. Can't a boyfriend kiss his girlfriend? She means to say, but the thought of saying this still has the dragonflies flurried in her stomach.

Ichigo chuckles lightly as he takes Orihime's hand and bag and leads her into the house, knotting his finger with hers as he carelessly kicks the door closed. She squeezes his hand as they move into the kitchen and he turns to her, dropping the bag as his eyes bounce hungrily over her body.

"You look... beautiful, Inoue." Ichigo says, and he means it. Orihime glances down at her gray jeans and pastel blue shirt and feels a little embarrassed; she knew she should have dressed up more.

"Kurosaki-kun, I'm just wearing je-" Ichigo shakes his head, and brings her hand to his lips, planting a light kiss on her knuckles. "I don't care what you wear Inoue, you'll be beautiful no matter what."

The dragonflies beat their wings in her tummy manically.

Ichigo smiles, lets her hand go and offers Orihime a drink. She declines as he reaches for a glass and the jug of water from the fridge. Orihime leans against the counter, her right arm hooked loosely at the elbow of her left, while she glances across the photo frames on the wall.

"So, Yuzu-chan is at her craft club?" She asks, flicking her eyes back to Ichigo, who nods slowly as he swigs from the tumbler. "And Karin-chan at soccer practice?"

Ichigo rolls the glass with a hasty clunk into the sink, as he moves to Orihime's side and nods, "and the father is working at the hospital for the night, something about sexy staff shortage." Ichigo snorts while Orihime giggles, before biting down on her lip as Ichigo stands before her and for a moment, they just savour one another's presence.

Orihime places her palm on Ichigo's heart and smiles, the rapid beat throbbing against her hand. She looks up at him, their eyes meet and both feel a burning rush of love swell inside them.

"I love Thursdays." Ichigo murmurs, placing his hands on the counters' lip either side of Orihime and leaning in to kiss her again. Orihime readily reacts, tilting her head as their wet lips crack and hot tongues collide. The sensation is incredible as they dance, flicking and rolling against one another as Ichigo's hands slip onto Orihime's waist, teasing under the hem of her shirt, making her shiver--

The squeal of Ichigo's house phone drives an invisible wedge between them, one that if Ichigo could see, he would throttle. Orihime reluctantly breaks their kiss, swallows and twists a little in Ichigo's arms, looking toward the sound.

"You should get it Kurosaki-kun..."

"We've got a machine..." Ichigo offers hopefully, the monster in his chest roaring for more of that good feeling.

"It could be one of your sisters." Orihime says softly and Ichigo's eyes flick to the left and he sighs, defeated. She is right, she always is. "Yeah, alright." He slowly drags his hands off her and strides to the phone, seizing it with more force then necessary.

Orihime watches him with a fondness she's known for years, before bending to scoop up her satchel. Ichigo's annoyed voice barks a few times before he hangs up the phone, shaking his head as he turns and his face drops.

"You know what else loves Thursdays, Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime says with an apologetic smile, holding up her bag, "our History assignment."

Ichigo feels like a dump truck of iced water has just crashed over him - liquid disappointment. Orihime's eyes soften in regret as she watches his shoulders slump. "Kurosaki-kun, I'm sorry... But it's due in-"

"Yeah, you're right Inoue." Ichigo looks up and smiles. It's not an overly-joyful expression, but one of submission. A pang of guilt in Orihime's stomach nearly has her throwing her bag out the window, but Ichigo has already flung himself into the lounge chair, exhaling his breath as a grunt.

Orihime sighs softly, walks across and lowers herself to her knees, back to him, unpacking and spreading the overwhelming amount of homework across the coffee table. Ichigo groans and throws his hands over his face. Orihime turns, wearing a lovingly smile as she rubs his thigh. His hand slips off his forehead and when he sees her there, smiling like that, he can't help but feel that he'd do history essays forever if it meant Orihime Inoue would stay this way.

"So," Ichigo's tone is weary but willing, "Gandhi's plight, huh?"

The next hour drags along like it was made of concrete and caught in tar. Both Ichigo and Orihime find themselves distracted – by each other. Ichigo had to force himself to the other side of the table to stop himself from touching Orihime and Orihime was fighting her own inner-battle to prevent herself from staring at Ichigo.

Their hunger for each other, only agitated from earlier, was escalating and Gandhi was no help at all. Orihime finds her focus stirring, her eyes wandering undercover of her lashes to watch Ichigo's hands twitch and scrawl absent-mindedly. Broad hands that could be touching her, driving her crazy with desire-- Orihime inhales quickly, trying to push the thought from her mind, but it keeps creeping back, teasing her.

Ichigo's eyes catch Orihime's head shaking gently, lips mumbling and he smiles. He watches as her thick locks of wildfire ripple when she breathes and how her brow wrinkles when she thinks. The tantalising need to be with her, to feel and smell and hold her, nearly has Ichigo diving across the table, destroying as much of the assignment as possible on the way.

He resists, but only just and after a few minutes more, decides he needs to leave - a bathroom break - before his willpower all but snaps.

He clears his throat and as Orihime looks up, stands quickly, stretching his arms until they crack. "Er, bathroom." He says, rubbing the back of his neck, poking his elbow toward it. She smiles, nodding before returning her eyes and pen to the paper, apparently immersed in Gandhi's world.

Ichigo ambles out and into the bathroom, closing the door with one hand while the other smooths his face, his hair. He could hardly bear sitting there; knowing the girl he loves and loves to be with would rather study then sleep with him. His "urges" storm in his mind, muscles and veins and he hates himself for them, and then decides he hates their history teacher for denying them. A thick moment passes and after what seems like an eternity, Ichigo sighs and pulls an exasperated face, before opening the door...

To find Orihime waiting in shadowed hallway, eyes blazing.


She takes two steps forward, tips up onto her toes and cuts him off with a swift kiss, the urgency of it taking Ichigo by surprise. Excitement promptly replaces his surprise. After a minute of this endorphinated bliss, Ichigo's eyes split open and with a scowl, he half-heartedly pulls away from her sweet lips.

"Inoue... What about the assignment?"

She smiles most uncharacteristically in dark and kisses him with a sharp yet soft force. Screw the assignment.

Ichigo's stomach spins like a top, propelled by thrill as they kiss with a passion that builds furiously with each skipping heartbeat. The air around them is hot with sexual tension as their kiss intensifies.

Ichigo pulls his kiss from Orihime's and after one small lick on her top lip, begins to dot her cheek and jawline with lightning kisses that send tingles through her pores. He drops his hands onto her hips, his fingers sprawled before they curl quickly, dragging her shirt up, exposing her skin. His fingers spread again, brushing across the small of her back. A soft mewl comes from Orihime's throat and Ichigo smiles against her neck, nipping at the skin, stirring a pleasured "oh" from his girlfriend.

Orihime winds her hands across his shoulders, catching around his neck and distractedly flicking the threads of hair on his nape as Ichigo's fingertips draw tantalizing circles on the soft flesh of her lower back.

He runs his hot tongue down the curve of her neck, causing her hands to claw against his skin, before his lips fly back to hers to steal another kiss that leaves them breathless. Orihime's lips break open and Ichigo's tongue darts in, pressing and swirling against hers.

Orihime knees quiver as Ichigo's muscles tense and their need for each other heightens. Their hands have become a frenzied flurry of movement, desperately amorous. Orihime breaks their kiss, seals his lips with a light peck before she quickly stretches her arms toward the ceiling while Ichigo tugs her blouse up, up until she is free. Ichigo's wild eyes skim across her exposed torso before another furiously lascivious kiss is shared. Orihime takes the hem of his shirt in her fingers and begins to pull, getting it caught between them. She giggles breathlessly against his lips as Ichigo grunts, grudgingly ending the kiss to yank the shirt off and toss it into the dark.

When he looks back, a strangely simple moment passes between them with nothing, no sound but their breathing. Their eyes shine in the dull trace of light from the lounge and the first to move is Orihime, slowly pressing herself against Ichigo, her soft and small hands framing his face as she kisses him with a rousing delicacy that has Ichigo responding in contrast, crushing his lips to hers as his hands slide down her heart-racing curvature and then slip beneath the wire of her bra, his thumb flicking and tracing her hardened nipple in a way that forces her breath to catch in her dry throat. Ichigo's hands spread like wings across the supple mounds and then tighten gently, making his girlfriend moan.

It’s a sound that makes his heart pump harder.

Orihime's mind is misted and swimming, bliss taking over her entire body as his fingers graze the sensitive skin on her breasts. Her eyes are now heavily-lidded as her hands fall and without thought, pop the button of Ichigo's pants before her fingertips creep beneath the band, teasing the skin above his groin. Instinctively, his hips buck against the sensation and Orihime's hand drops down, her fingers immersed in the cluster of warm hair.

Ichigo's eyes snap shut as Orihime's hand creeps down further still, agonizingly slow, until her fingertips brush across his hardened penis. Ichigo's pelvis jolts at her touch and he groans when she strokes him with a feather-light touch that shakes his breathing. Orihime bites her lip as she stares at her boyfriends' clenched face, one of his hands suddenly on the back of her head, scrunching his fingers, back and forth, in her hair. She feels laden with a deep lust for him, and he groans again, hips rolling against her hand as she traces the tense, warm skin on his shaft.

"Inoue..." He rumbles, his voice rough and thick, as one eye cracks open. Orihime blinks, before leaning into him, pressing her breasts (one still gloved by his hand) against his chest as she quickly wraps her hand around his penis and squeezes.

Ichigo gives a strangled cry of pleasure and in turn, accidentally grasps Orihime's breast so tight -- "Kurosaki-kun!" she yelps, extracting her hand on instinct.

Ichigo immediately loosens his grip ruefully but decides he can wait no longer. His eyes fly open and he stares at Orihime with fiery eyes hazed by desire. Orihime body trembles for him as she meets his gaze with a parallel obsession.

And then, it's just a blur of movement; a nearly aggressive urgency.

Ichigo snatches one of Orihime's hands in his and meshes them as he drives her up against the hallway wall. Their hips collide hard and grind together, inflicting a winded gasp from both of them. They rush a wildly chaotic kiss; the metallic taste of blood slightly there soon after her nicks his tongue in her teeth. Orihime withdraws and tries to apologise, only to have her swollen lips caught by Ichigo's, before he drops a kiss on the end of her nose.

Those damn dragonflies in her stomach are hysterical as Orihime nearly goes to jelly.

Ichigo bends at the knees -his jeans riding low on his thighs- and with his naked chest heaving, he tucks an arm under Orihime's knee and lifts it up, beckoning her hips to his. She presses her glossy forehead to his, their breathing short and eyes engaged as she pushes herself up and quickly wraps her long legs around his waist.

Ichigo spreads his legs a little, locks one arm to the wall to support Orihime and slides the other under her bottom while she curls her arms loosely around his neck, overlapping at the forearm. They watch each other, panting and swapping furiously tender kisses while Ichigo's hand sweeps up around her hip and rolls down between her silken thighs, fingers drifting on the inner flesh before slipping beneath her underwear, grazing her balmy sex. Orihime moans longingly into Ichigo's hard kiss, pushing her hips out to meet with his curling fingertips. He responds with a thumb, pressed and circling her sensitive nub. Orihime, completely overtaken by pleasure, severs their kiss with a gasp on Ichigo's lips and breathes a husky "O-oh Kurosaki-kun..."

Ichigo smirks a bit and he pinches her engorged clit, inducing another rasping moan from his the love of his life, and another buck of her hips to his, crushing their sexes together, enticing his thoughts. A moment passes and Orihime regains a little of her composure, stripes of her hair flickering, as she presses a hand to his face, staring into him with glassed eyes as she lowers her hips, herself down to him. Ichigo's primal and hormonal instincts hurdle into overdrive and however impatient, he slowly straightens up, pushing himself up into Orihime, the sensation absolutely indescribable for both of them – a euphoric amalgamation of cramped pain and searing pleasure. Orihime's eyes are crunched shut, as the first few moments of Ichigo being so inside her usually hurts a bit. It's a conflicting experience as he forces into the tight passage, the friction between them is so desirable and yet, at the same time, so... uncomfortable.

Ichigo looks up, his scowl taut with concentration and it softens at Orihime's pained face. A shot of guilt electrifies his stomach. The thought of hurting Orihime nearly makes him sick and as moves a hand to her hip, he kisses her chin gently and says what he always says at this point "I'm sorry Inoue... do you want me to st-"

And right on cue, Orihime's shining eyes open and she shakes her head. No, Kurosaki-kun. Never. As Ichigo straightens up and has filled her completely, the pain dissolves into a pleasure like no other. Orihime presses her back firmly to the wall and Ichigo, in a great and calm manner, pulls himself back and drives into Orihime again, quickening their pulses, racing their hearts and rasping their breaths. Both Ichigo's hands are on Orihime's rolling hips now, guiding them both with each of his slow, deep thrusts that pours a rich haze of elation in them, which grows more intense with each plunge. Orihime's trembling hands snake through Ichigo's hair, knotting in at the roots while she pants - occasionally managing a whispered and throaty "oh... Kurosaki-kun..."

Ichigo is relatively quiet in the beginning, all the gravelly huffing aside. An occasional grunt rolls from his chest, when he feels a volt of energy to thrust harder or when Orihime tightens herself around him. But the more they rock, the more they love, the more vocal and hectic they become, slicks of sweat varnishing their skin whilst that feeling of ecstasy grows... and grows... and grows.

Hips and muscles begin to ache, soft bruises clot beneath skin and the hunger for that euphoria translates into passionately turbulent happening between them, Ichigo's pelvic-force now rough and fervent with one of Orihime's hands threaded in his hair, the other clawed on his left bicep. Their inhales are lustful gasps and exhales, pleasure-driven noise, sounds that make many people blush. The more Ichigo rocks his hips, the more Orihime tightens her thighs, the closer they get to the edge. Ichigo grunts and puffs, vigorously bucking his hips, a hot pressure building, building in him. Orihime whimpers and gasps, rocking to meet with him, driving him deeper, pulling his head to hers, foreheads clashing, telling him she loves him with all her heart...

And then they reach it, that invigorating peak, stifled cries of satisfaction announcing their arrival. For a few seconds, they soar in orgasm, the sensation devastatingly beautiful... before they both go limp, exhausted. Ichigo is sure to hold Orihime safe as his legs buckle beneath him and they crumple to the floor, a mess of sweat and the essence of one another.

They are both shaking, both breathless and both satisfied to the utmost. Orihime, who is lying on Ichigo's pulsating chest, with her flaming hair tossed and tangled and stuck to her in sweat, looks up toward him. He doesn't move, he can't – eyes closed and muscles throbbing. But he can feel her watching him, and he just breathes; he is in a place in his life he never wants to leave.

"I love you too Inoue."

And out on the lounge table, Gandhi and his plight lay scrambled and forgotten.


(NOTE; i am going to try and post something every two-ish days. because it's good to work my brain. please, comment with CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, not just "gross, ichihime sex is wrong" or something because seriously, i will take you down.

also, it's only been edited by me, because i wasn't about to ask my mum to proof-read this, so mistakes WILL be made, i am sure. if anyone knows of a BETA that is interested in fanfiction AND original work, let me know!)

/i am so exhausted, worked/ing the 5am shifts today, tomorrow and then Monday and Tuesday.
Tags: dedication; ihbff, ichigo and orihime, my fanfiction
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