EDIT: I added a bit of fluff to help it transition better, maybe? I honestly have no idea. If you guys notice a ripple in the flow, please let me know so I can iron out the kinks.

Also, next chapter is the last. I have so many things to write, so please be patient.

Disclaimer: I want it… I want it so badly… I need my canon HyourinHitsu…


Orihime sat with little grace on the white couch. She had noticed Ulquiorra left immediately after dropping her off to head back to Aizen's room, and she had little doubt why.

Naturally, although he wasn't human, he had become curious about these visits between them. But, being the obedient tool that he was, the Espada wouldn't ask his master directly. He would do silent errands for him, giving the two men more time together and quietly wondering if Aizen would openly begin to tell him all about it.

It reminded her of her conversations with Tatsuki. The sweet bickering between friends that she had grown used to… her cheek twitched into a small smile. Orihime could still hear the rash voice in her mind, telling her to watch herself; boys are scary! The same voice urging her to put down the wasabi, because that doesn't go on pancakes!

What would Tatsuki say now? The orangette could see the worried face clearly, face contorted with anxiety as she gave her opinion.

What would any of her friends say now? A small pang came from the bottom of her stomach, and she held her head in her hands. Could they accept the way she was being… the way she was involved with Aizen?

Her skin crawled with her imagination; the images of her angry and horrified friends broke into her mind. What would they say? But… these kinds of thoughts were hurting her so much, curling her body inward in agony. She was a traitor? That wasn't the right word. She was naïve, falling for his advances and playing into his hands even after she had promised him her heart and soul. He didn't have to do this; Aizen was doing this for fun.

The woman nearly laughed as she leaned back on the bleached cushion. She herself was spending too much time with him, and it reflected on her paranoid thinking. Before him, her mind would have stopped at the first layer, giggled lightly, and moved on. But now, there were so many more dark folds she needed to overcome before she could begin to understand how to react.

Ulquiorra would be back later with her dinner, and then in the morning she might have breakfast with Aizen again. A soft, pink blush covered her cheeks as she remembered her voice calling his name with such powerful emotion. It hooked the bottom of her heart and weighed it down, almost causing her to clutch her chest with emptiness.

Although being away from him was refreshing enough, Orihime couldn't help but need to bury her face into something. She couldn't allow her eyes to start to trick her like they had the first night she went through without him. Images of him flickered through the room as she looked around corner after corner. The orangette had spent hours trying to find the shimmering hallucinations, only to exhaust herself and slump against the wall for her sleep.

Her hand tingled as she ran her fingernails over the soft skin between her pointer and thumb, tickling the thin membrane. Orihime wondered about him constantly, starting with his appearance. The spotless cloak was a no-brainer, of course he wanted to look like the mega-boss.

She imagined herself in the future, in her robot form. Her metal joints bent so she aimed a flaming kick toward the second giant robot. It jumped easily over the leg, back-flipping in the air and eyeing her metallically. The chain that hung between its big, cartoon eyes resembled the owner greatly. Mega-Boss Aizen, the last enemy you had to defeat to save Karakura Town.

Orihime grinned, scratching her arm as she thought more about the mental conquest. But quietly, deep down, she knew she still wasn't strong enough to scratch his steel exterior. The thick plates around his even harder insides would remain untouched until even after his demise.

That wasn't something she had considered before this: his defeat. Did… did she want her friends to win? To come and save her from this monochromatic hell?

The single tear tracing its way down her cheek told her she still did. After all those close moments with the devil himself, and the nearly happy memories, she wanted to go home. Orihime wanted to talk to her brother and tell him all about school. She wanted to see Tatsuki hit Chizuru. She wanted to smell her cooking again as she added red bean paste and whipped cream to her dinner.

A piece of copper hair covered her face as she looked down at her white lap. Heavy tears fell down and left their round mark on her thighs, darkening only those small spots. She didn't let herself make a sound, didn't let her face contort with anguish like she wanted to.

There was only one way to assure her secure emotional state if she ever left this place. As soon as she could, she had to distract herself from Aizen's attentions. Her heart had to grow hard to his soft whispers and angel-light touches.

She imagined them vividly, even now as she felt more alone than ever. The single fingertips that had plucked at her feelings and mapped inch after inch of her body, even they had to be cut off. The brown eyes that she once compared to a certain substitute shinigami's were now on a different dimension. Deep pools of ever-expanding knowledge and power, they were indeed. Orihime had to cease her observations before it was too late.

Her heart beat faster as she recalled one sensation after another, each pump of the chambers reminding her it already was.


When Aizen visited her that night, the room was stuffed full with her overwhelming mixed feelings. The confusion was wrapped around her neck, tugging her head down between her knees in agony, lacing her arms around her thighs.

"Orihime," he said from the doorway, and his smooth voice drove a thousand nails into her heart. The girl knew she should reject him as soon as possible, but it was going to be hard work if he kept turning up the allure like that. She didn't have to raise her head to know he had crossed the room and now kneeled in front of her. Nor did she have to look up to imagine his sultry face, with eyes half-lidded, as he pried one of her hands up to kiss the knuckles.

He didn't ask, only stayed still in front of her and kissing the same spot on her hand over and over. With each touch of his lips, a heat-wave of pleasure rocketed through her wrist and up her arm, and she had to bite her lip to keep her composure.

Why wasn't he saying anything?

Probably because he already knew why she was being so cold and awkward. He ran a smooth thumb quickly over her fingers, twisting the hand around to examine every small part of the appendage. Aizen held the hand softly between his two larger ones, barely brushing his lips over the fingertips. She was still limp at his touch, and he allowed himself to feel up her arm, tracing around the measly muscles hiding beneath the alabaster uniform.

Thinking back to her desperate line, "I don't want to be a pawn anymore." Was that even the truth? It's so much easier to abandon the game if you're a pawn than if you're a queen. Abandon wasn't quite right, though. It had to be a different tone, a different inclination.

Orihime wanted to fade away. She wanted to be left alone, to be forgotten and never bothered again by this god. Aizen's mannerisms were becoming too familiar; it was starting to scare her how close she had come to him. But, was it even the real him? Most likely, she was dealing with a parallel personality, one that fit the role he played in this particularly sick play of his. The delicious touches he had been spreading over her arm ceased, leaving his hand dangling just above her elbow.

"Orihime," the man repeated, releasing her hand to put his own on her knees. "Do you like when I love you?" Although the question was sincere, Orihime felt as if she had been backhanded. Such a stark question had shocked her back into reality. What had he meant by love? Surely… most definitely not the emotion. She knew that like everything else in Hueco Mundo, he had no real emotions. She was left confused and faced with a timed answer.

If she lied, what would he do? The dangerous spark that had kick-started her heart returned when she looked into his eyes. They were innocently rounded, and the brown irises were bright with adorable curiosity. But she knew better, and looked past the facade to see the gears in his brain churning speedily and the pieces of his plan falling into place. Her grim smile brought one of his eyebrows up.

"Yes," she whispered, but scooted away from his outstretched hand. The woman cringed, and turned her face away from his when he stood. He leaned down, almost entirely horrifying her, and seized her face between both of his powerful palms. He pressed their foreheads together, mingling their emotions and breaths in one suave movement.

"Do you want me to love you?" As the intense seconds passed, she realized his stare was hardening into a cold beam of vision. The steamy contact between them was muddying her thoughts, distracting her from her previous train of thought. But, what could she say? The way Aizen had treated her during these days and nights; was it love? No.

Love was knowing when to react to a person. That's how it was with Kurosaki-san, right? She knew her heart would race when she saw Ichigo. Orihime knew she would follow him to the ends of the earth.

But with Aizen… she had no clue. No particular intimation of how to react to him at all. He was sporadic with his effections, laying them down on her on a whim and assuming the positions of captor, enemy… lover… all at the same time.

He had asked the impossible of her, and she had to answer him before he got the wrong message. Of one thing she was certain, however.

"I don't know," she said lightly, looking at him with almost glowing grey orbs. Orihime's orange hair shone in the farce moonlight, illuminating both of their faces. His nose was almost touching hers, and she swallowed when he didn't reply. He just stayed there, eyes squeezed shut and hands warm on her face. The brown tendril that split from the rest of his hair was tickling her cheek, but he remained very still as he held her there.

Before she was ready to let go, Aizen retreated a few steps, opening his blank eyes to look down at her. Any fake emotions he had been spinning around before were now gone; his face was instead very cold. Even the smug look that usually smeared itself across his handsome face was absent.

"Aize-" But a raised hand stopped both her heart and her words. Slowly, the fake smile crept back onto his face and curved the edges of his soft lips menacingly. Orihime could stop neither the shiver that shot through her spine, nor the slightly agape face she was making. Her grey eyes followed the hand as it relaxed and fell to his side. The hand that had both terrified and pleasured her, even something as inconsequential as a common body part became something to have mixed feelings about when it belonged to him.

He didn't bother saying another word as he left, and she became suddenly aware of how cold it was in her room. It was almost overpowering, how utterly dull her space had become without him there. The click of the door closing was actually a catalyst that sucked all of her emotions and heart into a black, lonely vacuum.

The invisible creatures of the floor clung to her ankles, chilling her legs and freezing her to her seat. Her arms were stiff as the couch reached out to wrap its deadly fingers around her elbows, and she felt her stomach flip in horror as the loneliness pinned her down to the white fabric. It was grinding against everything inside her, sapping her dry of any energy she could muster. Was his essence really that vital to her?

The addiction she had formed for him had been extirpated, and now she was being strangled with the symptoms of her withdrawal.

But the tiniest bit of his reiatsu was still pinging in the corner of her mind. He hadn't walked away yet, and still stood in front of her door. He was taunting her on purpose, and it was working.

Nakama? Nothing.

Rescue? Irrelevant.

She needed him. To experience everything he had to offer her and more.

Orihime coughed as she pulled her arms forward, almost dragging them to the edge of the couch to try and pull her upwards. The weight on her thighs rolled off as she hissed and mewled, kicking her feet free. The insides of her lungs burned with each squeak and screech that fought its way from her mouth.

The vicious, carnal instinct that was pulling her towards him was taking over her weak form. She admitted she was becoming an animal, and hoped on the side that she would be fluffy when she was done with the transformation. Maybe the orangette would have cute little ears and a tail as well.

Nearly tripping, she fell towards the door, stopping her descent with a steady hand on the doorknob. She twisted, fighting against the lock. The woman began to cry his name, letting it run from her mouth as easily as the tears were running down her cheeks. She was so close to him, it was beginning to burn her insides.

Every part of him, from his soft, fragrant hair to his big, strong hands to his elegant legs and firm feet… every single last bit of his body was flashing before her, and she panted and yelled his name through the door.

But when the door knob twisted, her hand froze and she fell silent. Her whole body went limp when the door slid open, barely enough to see the man on the other side.

Brown eyes clashed with her slate orbs, and his playful smile peeked through the slit of the door. A few tears dropped from her chin lazily, splashing on her chest. His chocolate eyes followed their plummet, lips ironing out to a slim, straight line. But he remained silent as he opened the door, allowing her broken form to plunge into his. Her thin arms were spread around him, with small hands feeling his coat up and down.

Her sobs were absorbed by his heated chest, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly before petting her long hair. His fingers toyed with the ends, twisting the locks around his fingers and pulling a piece up to kiss. Orihime was shuddering against him, now filled with a barrage of hiccups.

"Sssh," he cooed, resting his chin on top of her head. Her hot tears were staining his collar, but he paid no heed as he closed his eyes. His deep voice continued to shush her, and the feeling of déjà vu welling up inside her was crushed by the most important feeling she thought she could ever have.


It was a dirty thought, sullying her mind during the hours they were apart, and exploding from joy when they were together. But it was the same feeling that had dried her tears, and the one that had her now nuzzling into him as he hummed deep in his chest.

"Sousuke-sama," she whispered, her voice still raw from her violent episode.

"Yes, Orihime?" He continued to hum around her response, encouraging her to finish her thought.

But the words were tangled in her teeth. She prodded them with her tongue, eager to spit them out and offer them to this god. His scent was making her head spin, and in combination with his warmth and her exhaustion, she felt her consciousness slipping.


Her words fell to breaths, and her entire body went limp against him. Aizen sighed, and the first authentic smile he had felt in a long time spread his lips as he thread her arms around his neck and lifted her legs. Carrying her, he nudged open the ajar door and shuffled over to the couch.

But, looking again at the ragged cloth and feeling the low temperature in the room, he shook his head before turning back into the hallway. The low lights above them lit up her tired face, but all he could see was a sleeping angel being held by the god who was stupid enough to fall in love. With Orihime… seduction had become a double-edged sword.

Her fatigued frame in his arms, he stopped to take in the moment. The grey eyes that had shown him emotions he had long since abandoned now opened new possibilities of experimentation. The soft lips he had captured and toyed with so often now pleased him even more. His skin was buzzing with excitement whenever he thought about caressing her soft frame, enveloping the small girl in his arms and using every amount of control to follow through with the plan. She had gone along with every detail so far; the game was going nicely all thanks to her.

All thanks to Orihime. Aizen's mind was light as he continued down the hall, rubbing warm circles into her arm with his fingertips.

Tonight, she would sleep with him.


May I say first: No, not in the sexual way. Like, him holding her and falling asleep next to her. She's under the covers and he's resting on top of them. Both of them have all of their clothes on. Nothing perverted.

EDIT: Fangirls, don't scratch my eyes out. I am one of you, after all. This is to clear some things up: When he asks, "Do you like when I love you?" He is literally referring to 'love' as a physical sensation; he's asking, "Do you like when I touch you?" This also applies to "Do you want me to love you?" He is talking about PHYSICAL INTERACTION. Not emotion. This translates to, "Do you want me to touch you?" However, it is important for this story that his outlook on love is NOT an emotion, but PHYSICAL AND MENTAL PLEASURE. He's a very twisted guy; that's why we fell in love with him, amirite? ^

Yes, I am taking requests! Always! And I love PMs, and Writing Challenges, etc. I always love reviews; I don't care if it's been one million years since I posted. I love reviews. And I love you. All of you. Every piece of every one of you all.