Chapter 137

After a while, the final credits rolled, and the movie faded into silence. The screen dimmed, leaving the room in darkness, save for the faint moonlight spilling through the curtains. The warmth between them lingered in the quiet stillness.

Ichigo slowly raised his head from her lap and sat up, running a hand through his hair. His other hand casually rested on her thigh — firm, grounded, familiar.

“Right... well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, standing up and stretching lazily as he made his way toward the door.

But just before he reached for the handle, something soft tugged at his hand.

“Wait,” Orihime said gently, holding onto him. “I thought—”

He turned, smirking as he flicked on the light with a casual motion.

“You thought what?”

The sudden brightness revealed her flustered face — cheeks flushed a soft crimson, lips slightly parted, eyes wide with hesitation and longing. She looked at him, slowly lifting her gaze to meet his.

That look alone — vulnerable, inviting, powerful — could’ve started wars in the old days. It almost knocked the wind out of him. But Ichigo held firm, standing his ground.

She stepped forward, rising slowly onto her toes. Her arms wrapped delicately around his neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate — his hands instinctively slid around her waist, pulling her close.

And then it happened.

Their lips met — softly at first, hesitant, then deepening. A beautiful, slow-burning kiss. It wasn’t rushed. It was real. Her fingers tightened slightly behind his neck, and his grip around her waist firmed, drawing her body against his. The world felt distant — no battles, no hollows, no arc to worry about. Just her. Just now.

They kissed like they’d both been waiting for it, like it wasn’t the beginning of something rushed... but something finally unfolding.

When they finally parted, Orihime looked up, breathless, eyes glazed with emotion.

Ichigo leaned in just enough to brush his forehead against hers, smirking slightly.

“Now that… was a proper goodbye.”

Orihime leaned in again, slower this time. Her lips brushed against the curve of his neck, soft and deliberate, leaving a faint, warm imprint on his skin. Ichigo exhaled slowly, his grip on her waist tightening just slightly.

Then she whispered, her breath tickling his ear, voice barely above a breath.

“Stay the night.”

Ichigo’s eyes narrowed slightly — not out of confusion, but focus. That tone... it wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t awkward. It was her. Gentle. Honest. A little afraid, but bold enough to say what she wanted.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, his hand slid up her back, fingers tracing along her spine. He tilted his head just enough to meet her eyes — that beautiful blend of fire and softness — before speaking low and clear.

“You sure?”

Orihime nodded, not looking away. “Yeah. I want you here.”

Ichigo smiled, that small confident grin of his — the one that said he understood exactly what she meant without needing her to say another word.

“…Alright then,” he said, voice almost a murmur.

With the door forgotten and the lights dimming again, the night shifted around them — no longer just warm, but wrapped in something deeper.

Their lips met again — no longer slow or hesitant, but hungry, raw, charged with everything they’d both been holding back.

Ichigo pressed into her, and Orihime responded instantly, her hands gripping at his shirt as they stumbled back toward the hallway. Each step was messy, impulsive — backs hitting walls, elbows knocking picture frames, but neither of them cared.

He pinned her against the wall with one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding around her waist as he kissed her deeper, harder. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers curling into the back of his hair, pulling him in tighter like she couldn’t get close enough.

The hallway dimly lit them in flickers — Orihime’s breath catching every time his lips found a new spot on her neck, jaw, collarbone.

By the time they reached her bedroom door, the tension was unbearable. Ichigo pushed it open with a kick and guided her inside, not breaking the kiss. His hands found her hips as he backed her toward the bed, lips still locked with hers like a promise being fulfilled.

She fell back onto the sheets, eyes wide and wanting, her hair fanned out beneath her like a flame.

Ichigo stepped back only for a second — just enough to close the door with a firm click. He walked over to the window, grabbing the curtain cord and yanking it shut, cutting off the last bit of moonlight.

The room darkened, the only glow now coming from the city faintly outside.

Then he turned to her.

His eyes met hers — that usual intensity now mixed with something deeper, almost primal. And yet, his voice was calm… confident… unshakably sure.

“No one leaves,” he said as he began moving toward her again, “until the sun rises.”

[A/N: THAT'S SO TUFF😎]

Orihime swallowed hard as Ichigo approached, the shadows casting sharp lines across his face, his shirt hanging open now, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths.

She sat up slightly, trembling, not from fear—but anticipation. Her fingers reached for the hem of her own shirt, but Ichigo stopped her with a look.

“I’ll do it,” he said lowly.

Her breath caught.

He climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he leaned over her. Their lips met again, but this time it was slower—deeper. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under her shirt, grazing over her stomach, upward, until he reached the softness of her breasts.

He pulled her shirt over her head gently, tossing it aside, eyes roaming every inch of her with reverence and heat.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Orihime’s cheeks flushed pink, her eyes wide, vulnerable—but she didn’t look away. “I’ve wanted this… for so long.”

Ichigo leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “Then let me give it to you… all night.”

His mouth moved down her neck, trailing kisses between the valley of her breasts before he took one nipple into his mouth—warm, slow, sucking gently. Orihime gasped, her hands threading through his hair as her back arched from the sheets.

He lavished both breasts with attention, licking and teasing her until her whimpers filled the room.

Then he slid lower.

He kissed down her stomach, eyes never leaving hers as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and slid them down—slowly, letting her thighs part for him.

The sight made him curse under his breath.

Her panties were soaked—sticky, clingy to her folds—and he could see the outline of everything.

He leaned in, dragging his tongue over the thin fabric. Orihime jolted. “I-Ichi—ahh…”

“I want to taste you properly,” he growled.

He peeled her panties down, exposing the soft, pink wetness underneath. She glistened in the city light, trembling with need.

Then his mouth was on her.

“Ahhh—!” Orihime cried, hands flying to the sheets as his tongue explored her. He licked her slowly, deliberately, then faster, circling her clit, sucking gently, drawing out moans that only grew louder.

Ichigo groaned against her heat, tongue diving in deeper. She was sweet. Hot. Overflowing. Her hips bucked into his mouth, thighs shaking around his head as he ate her like a man starved.

“F-Fuck… Ichigo, I’m—!” she gasped, right before her back arched and her orgasm crashed through her. Her entire body quaked as she came on his tongue, panting, whining, shaking.

Ichigo pulled back, licking his lips, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

And then—he unbuckled his pants.

He kicked them off, his thick cock springing free, flushed and already leaking from how hard he’d gotten just from pleasuring her.

Orihime’s eyes widened. “You’re… as big as I thought…”

Ichigo chuckled low in his throat, leaning over her again, guiding his thick tip to her soaked entrance. “I’ll go slow…”

But before he could press in—

“Wait,” Orihime said suddenly, her voice soft but certain. She placed her hands gently on his chest, eyes flicking up to meet his. “I want to taste you as well.”

Ichigo blinked, caught off guard. “You sure?”

She nodded without hesitation, then moved quickly—almost urgently—sitting up on her knees and turning to face him. She shifted to the edge of the bed, kneeling just before where he stood, the soft mattress sinking beneath her as she settled.

Ichigo’s cock stood right in front of her now—long, thick, flushed with need. It twitched slightly in the cool air, the tip swollen and glistening with a clear bead of precum.

Orihime’s breath hitched.

It was one thing to imagine it—something she’d done far too often alone in her bed—but now that it was right in front of her, it felt so much more intense. More real. His size was intimidating, almost unreal, thick enough to stretch her hand and long enough to make her thighs instinctively squeeze together.

‘I've been dreaming about this moment…’ she thought, biting her lip.


TO BE CONTINUED