Undisclosed Desires, chapter 2 (Ori/Bya)
Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you like chapter two :)
Undisclosed Desires, 2/5
by hardlyfatal
Chapter Two
The next morning, Byakuya was feeling much better. He'd had a stern conversation with himself about decorum and pride and after feeling thoroughly embarrassed by his failure to not only maintain his composure, but show Orihime the hospitality owed to her by dint of being a guest in the Kuchiki household.
A servant brought his morning tea. Feeling back on firm footing after the wobbly ground of yesterday, he was ready to face the day, and Orihime, with his usual chilly assurance.
Then the servant opened the shoji walls of his bedroom to the outside before she left, and Byakuya saw Orihime doing yoga by the koi pond.
The sun had not yet completely risen; its first rays still fell softly on the land, and on her, touching her warm hair with stripes of gentle fire. She wore a tiny shirt that clung lovingly to her stupendous bosom, and stretchy trousers that fit her like a second skin. As he watched in a sort of fascinated horror, she bent over, presenting her curvy backside, before switching angles and bending backward until her breasts were thrust directly up at the sky.
Once she was upright once more, she stuck one leg vertically in the air, grabbing her foot with her up-stretched hand before lowering it again. Then she sank into a split, one leg straight in front while the one in back bent at the knee so her foot was in the air. Then she bent back, breasts once again pushed into high relief, and tilted her head to rest it on her foot.
A burning sensation clued Byakuya to the fact that his hands were shaking so badly that he'd spilled tea from his cup onto his wrist. Muttering a curse, he replaced the teacup on the tray at his side and wiped off his wrist with a corner of his sleeping yukata.
"Will you let me heal that for you?
Byakuya looked up find Orihime had come to stand before the veranda, blotting her face and throat with a towel. She was glowing with health and exertion; with her hair up in a high ponytail, the fine bones of her face were more obvious, and she looked more adult and less like the teenaged friend of his sister that he was accustomed to.
"I'm fine," he somehow managed to tell her, then directed his attention to his teacup once more, so he'd have something-- anything-- else to look at.
"I'm sorry," Orihime whispered. Her pretty lips were downturned sadly.
"For what?" This close, he could tell that her tiny shirt was tinier than he'd thought; it barely skimmed her waist and fully revealed the shallow oval of her navel. The stretchy pants were so snug that-- oh, dear Kami-- the cleft between her legs was clearly delineated. Mouth dry, he swallowed convulsively.
"For imposing myself on your hospitality," she said, wringing her hands. "It's obvious you're upset that I'm here."
"I'm not upset." She made him sound like a fragile maiden taken with a fit of the vapors. Kuchikis did not get upset. Not this one, at least.
"I'll leave," Orihime told him, and turned to go.
Oh, hell. If she left, it would be everywhere by lunchtime. Worse, Rukia would be appalled and hurt. She would ask him questions. It would be vastly annoying.
"Wait." He gulped down his tea, then stood and pursued her down the veranda. She halted but did not turn around, for which he was glad; this would be easier if he didn't have to look at those huge eyes of hers. "You are not an imposition. I apologize for my lack of manners. Please stay."
She turned to him, which had him cursing internally. Her face was alight with hope, and Byakuya felt his lungs shudder in his chest. "You're sure?" she asked breathlessly.
"I'm sure--"
He'd barely gotten the words out before she clasped her hands at her bosom and bounced for joy, the jouncing motion of her breasts drawing his attention like bees to two particularly lovely, nectar-bearing flowers.
"Thank you, Byakuya-sama!" she said happily. "I promise I won't get in your way!"
"See that you don't," he said faintly. Could this be over yet? He wanted nothing more than to return to his room, have more tea, then retire to the bathroom for a chilly shower.
Orihime, however, had other ideas. She put her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and pressed her lips to his cheek in an enthusiastic kiss.
This, too, had to be something she inflicted on her other unwitting victims, i.e. her friends. Byakuya clenched his fists in the folds of his yukata and bore it with the stoicism that defined him. That shower was going to have to be downright frigid. He wasn't looking forward to it.
But Orihime wasn't acting like this was a common occurrence. She'd gone into the kiss as if it were, but once her lips had met his cheek, she'd frozen. As she was usually an incredibly animated person, this sudden lack of movement seemed distinctly unnatural to Byakuya. As her face moved back, he looked down at her in question.
She was still far, far too close to him; no longer on tiptoes, but her hands were still on his shoulders. Distantly, he was aware that the very tips of her breasts were just barely making contact with his chest. Orihime was gazing up at him, a frown between her eyes and lips parted in soft confusion. Her scent of oranges and female perspiration rose around them in dizzying eddies that had Byakuya's head spinning.
"Byakuya-sama," she whispered, raising herself to her toes once more, mouth primed for another kiss.
And this time, she wasn't aiming for his cheek.
Orihime touched her mouth to his, and her hands left his shoulders to slide up his neck and sink into his hair. His own mouth opened in a silent gasp, and she took shameless advantage of that to slip her tongue in, rubbing over the silken inside of his lips and the tips of his teeth.
"You taste like tea," she murmured against his lips, then slanted her mouth to mesh it more firmly with his.
There was a roaring in Byakuya's ears; he was aware of little for the space of ten full seconds. When the roaring receded, he found he had backed Orihime up against the veranda post and was winding one of her legs around his waist, the better to rock his sudden, burning erection against her. Somewhere in those ten seconds, he'd gotten his hand up her shirt and was still prying her bra up so he could get at her breasts. He was also kissing her as though the fate of the world depended on it, with luscious long strokes of his tongue in her mouth, his lips sliding wetly, sensuously against hers.
Orihime was everything warm and pliant in his arms, more than happy to help him hook her thigh around his hip and peel her bra away to grant him access. He felt light-headed; he had to lock his knees to keep from sliding, boneless, to the veranda. He wanted her naked beneath him, wide open and ready for him, as eager to take him deep as he was to be taken. Her hands were gripping his head tightly, as if she were afraid he'd pull away, and the sensation of her fingers tugging on his hair had him feeling drunk with lust for her. Her breast was overflowing his grasp, the stiff nipple abrading his palm, and her fingers were moving restlessly against his scalp as she sucked on his bottom lip.
"Nii-sama?"
Rukia was still too far to observe them, but her voice from somewhere inside the manor was more effective than a bucket of cold water tossed over them. Control returned to Byakuya between heartbeats; he froze, and in that moment of inaction, was able to catalogue with brutal clarity to exactly what degree they had abandoned themselves. On the veranda. Where the mere action of opening a screen could reveal to everyone what they were up to.
So many emotions. A fierce satisfaction that she wanted him as much as he wanted her; savage enjoyment of sensual pleasure, indulged for the first time in decades; sorrow and wistfulness that he'd never felt such a grinding, sanity-threatening passion for Hisana.
And then fear, because Byakuya was not a man who engaged in matters of sex lightly. Orihime was not a mere acquaintance, and it would be impossible to have a discreet, shallow affair with her. He felt himself poised on a precipice, where the choice he made in this moment would have drastic, even catastrophic impact on the rest of his life.
If they continued, he had little doubt that the gossamer-thin layer of control he'd maintained thus far would snap. Then he'd drag her to his bedroom and screw her in reckless abandon for the rest of the day.
It would be glorious.
It would be all around Seireitei by dinner.
He'd have to make explanations for why he'd missed work. Clan elders would want assurances he had no plans to install her as the next Lady Kuchiki.
...at least he'd get some sex out of it?
Byakuya tore himself from her, flash-stepping five paces back and facing away. "I am sorry," he managed to grind out, struggling to catch his wind.
"Byakuya?" she murmured. He chanced a glimpse at her over his shoulder. It was a grave mistake, severely shaking his resolve, as she was panting through parted, kiss-reddened lips, and her shirt and bra were rucked up to her armpits, revealing both flushed, aroused breasts as they heaved in exertion. He'd even managed to drag the scrunchie from her hair, sending a cascade of chestnut waves tumbling over her shoulder. Her eyes were still fogged with passion as she slumped against the post for support.
She looked, in short, thoroughly debauched, and it took superhuman effort on Byakuya's part to not fling himself forward and rut with her like a beast.
Instead, he closed his eyes and took several deep, hopefully calming breaths. When he felt more in control of himself, he said, "That was an inexcusable mistake."
Orihime didn't say anything for a few long moments, just watched him, and seemed sad. "Ah," she said at last, and ducked her head while she put her clothing and hair to rights.
"Orihime-chan?" Rukia was still in search of one of them; it wouldn't be long now until she found them staring awkwardly at each other. Byakuya had to end this swiftly.
"Please forgive me for my lack of propriety. I hope you enjoy your stay with us." He sounded like the reception desk at a hotel.
She didn't answer right away. "Thank you," she said at last, her voice soft. She sounded confused, and a little hurt. Byakuya closed his eyes. "I'm sure I will."
He nodded, and returned to his room.
Then he had the coldest shower he'd ever inflicted upon himself.
It didn't help as much as he'd hoped.
--> Chapter Three is here. <--