Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach!
Ulquiorra had resigned himself to a life of servitude, but at the end of the day he was sated to know he could play God with her.
He knew exactly what lured him to her in the first place: it wasn't the pretty face, or the unrealistically huge heart, or the even more unrealistically huge breasts; it was her soul, and the mere fact that she had something that he didn't.
Orihime loved to talk – asking questions, complaining, and even singing – so much so that sometimes he only kissed her to shut her up.
When he ran his hands over her bare skin, his fingers roughly grazing her hips or the tender flesh of her breasts, she would sometimes plead for him to stop – he would just pretend he didn't hear.
Ulquiorra wasn't like Grimmjow in many ways, one of the most prominent being that he didn't take pleasure in harming innocent creatures – with the exception of Orihime, that is.
He'd hate to admit it to Aizen, but Ulquiorra loved it when Orihime hid her food rather than eating it – they both knew it was just another excuse to "punish" her.
Ulquiorra liked to believe he held the power in their twisted tryst of a relationship, all along knowing it was a lie.
When he couldn't be bothered to answer her questions, he settled for pinning her against a wall and silencing her with his tongue.
As a hollow and an Espada, Ulquiorra rarely felt hunger – except for when he was around Orihime, and he was suddenly overcome by it.
Her living in Hueco Mundo was difficult for both of them at first: she constantly kept him in bed until the late afternoon.
Initially, he had shoved her against the wall and crushed his lips against hers to intimidate her; to his dismay, she liked it.
Considering how long she could talk about nothing relevant at all, he was surprised by the length of her attention span.
"I won't be what you want me to be – I won't be gentle."
It seldom happened, but when Grimmjow would finally get on his very last nerve, Ulquiorra would blow off steam with a quick romp between the sheets – Orihime wondered if exceptional speed was a secret power of his.
The fact that Arrancar could not bear children pleased Ulquiorra; for some reason, it saddened Orihime.
Despite his mask of complete apathy, Ulquiorra couldn't quell an irate twitch whenever he saw the sparse looks of completely lascivious intent Aizen shot her.
No matter how it happened – fast and rough or slow and silky – one thing was constant: it was always wrong.
The only thing Ulquiorra found beautiful about their relationship was the simple and undeniable truth that lay at the heart of it: it wouldn't last.
Even if he were a kilometer away, he doubted he could drown out her incessant "friendship" preaching.
As an Arrancar, Ulquiorra had never needed anything before – food, water, affection – and that was one of the reasons he hated Orihime.
To stop himself from holding her hands, he gripped her wrists until he left bruises – she understood why, but he didn't.
"If you don't stop talking right now, I'll leave you in a room with Grimmjow for an entire week."
Strangely enough, Ulquiorra preferred her clothed: the white of the Arrancar robes seemed to suit her better than her own skin.
He found the very notion of her power ridiculous – one fairy was enough, but six?
Some nights she refused to do it quickly – on those nights, he refused to wait.
Despite the constant threats that practically oozed from his mouth, he vowed never to let Grimmjow within a thirty foot radius of his woman.
For never having had one before, Ulquiorra adapted quite well to taming his sex drive; if you said that to Orihime, she'd snort indignantly and glare at the rumpled sheets of her bed.
Despite the relatively neutral climate of Hueco Mundo, it was always hot in Orihime's room.
Orihime sometimes wondered if she should give up bathing altogether – every time she washed, Ulquiorra just came and made her all sweaty again.
The first time they'd had sex, Orihime felt something inside her tear – strangely, it wasn't her heart.
Ulquiorra liked to stay and watch her change back into her clothes, as if the white robes erased everything they'd just done.
Whenever Ulquiorra extracted his eye to make a report, he had to make a conscious effort to exclude all images of a sweaty Orihime moaning beneath him from leaking through.
Ulquiorra never used words like "darling" or "precious", because love took all the romance out of it.
Some urges he'd had to learn to quell, like the fact that he sometimes wanted to scratch his name into her skin just to make her remember.
It was an idiotic thought that nevertheless nagged constantly at the back of his mind: relative to age, he was a child in comparison.
Reluctantly, Ulquiorra could never really let loose in bed lest the headboard bang against the wall and inform the others of their little secret – as such, he had half a mind just to move the damn thing to the center of the room and be done with it.
Command was something he was good at, while bravery was her own special talent.
In the more dull Espada meetings, Ulquiorra hoped no one knew that he was mentally picturing a rather naked, rather restrained Orihime.
Ulquiorra rarely got mad, but when he did Orihime would lock the door and prop a chair against it – kink was one thing, rage was another.
Ulquiorra sometimes wanted to ask her what it felt like to be a shadow of your former self, or even what it felt like to have a former self.
Despite being denied plenty of luxuries – television, exercise, fresh air -, the only thing Orihime lamented about missing was manga.
Whenever Ulquiorra's teeth would prick that familiar spot in the nape of her neck, he took a few seconds to relax and enjoy the sight – she was a vision in red.
Ulquiorra didn't consider their meeting to be of good fortune; rather, he thought it was the cruel hand of fate giving him the finger.
Ulquiorra awaited the day where she'd leave with both anticipation and hatred, and beneath that layer of unrecognizable emotion slept the guilt of saying goodbye.
One time, to break an awkward silence, she tried to tell him a ghost story – he quickly covered her mouth with his and the moral went unknown forever.
She told him that she felt safe around him – he told her to feel nothing.
Despite knowing it would happen every night (just as it had the one before that, and the one before that), to Orihime it always came as a surprise.
What frightened him most wasn't her excessive determination (personally, he didn't believe a word of it), but rather the simple fact that he was frightened at all.
"I don't want to go down in history; I want to erase the face of it."
#50: Fool:When Ulquiorra heard Orihime singing a song called "Fools Rush In" (terribly off key, it wouldn't hurt to note), he felt like snorting and correcting her with, "Only fools go in at all."