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All of the lights in her bedroom are switched off, but Orihime can see just fine. She sweeps the curtains wide open. They're hand-sewn, a pattern of sunflowers that she picked out herself. Pale blue moonlight floats in and hovering dust particles begin to glow like tiny, silver fireflies. She sighs dreamily - it's a beautiful night. From a clear sky, the stars wink at her winsomely. The house is empty, a rare occasion. Kazui had been invited to a sleepover, Yuzu and Karin were out of town, and...
Orihime loves it. There was no one else to cook for or clean up after that evening. She had even ordered take-out just for herself for dinner.
Her favourite music plays from their CD-player, not too loud in case she misses the doorbell ringing. She holds the flowing fabric of her skirt in each hand and hums as she twirls to the rhythm. She lets the skirt flare out completely and throws her arms out to either side as the song finishes before falling to the bed. It meets her back with a soft 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘩 and she giggles.
Yes, she loves this. But the real fun will start when her guest arrives. She shoots up and brushes a hand through her hair, tossing it this way and that. She's wearing her expensive perfume (a seductive jasmine scent), the one that she only wears on the nights that she sees Uryuu. It makes her feel distinguished, like a revered duchess or a mysterious socialite. But it's nowhere close to as celebrated as Uryuu makes her feel.
On rare occasions, she wonders if she should find it in herself to feel worse about what the two of them do in the dark. After all this time, her heart holds no shame for their tryst, not that it ever did. In truth, she enjoys having a secret life. Her mind is pleasantly challenged by the effort to keep it under wraps. She's like a secret agent, stealing kisses. Tonight, however, would be easy. She likes that too.
The doorbell rings and Orihime stretches, languidly, like a cat. She doesn't want to keep her lover waiting but neither should she appear impatient, she thinks as she makes her way downstairs. She takes her time but patience goes out the window when she opens the door to see Uryuu staring at the clinic as though he'd never been there before. She yanks him forward and kisses him right there, in the doorway. When they part, he's flushed but there is an unmistakable, familiar fondness in his eyes. His shift must have felt like an age, but there is no trace of fatigue on his face. His dark hair is still impeccably combed, his posture upright and characteristically polite.
"Aren't you going to come in?" She teases.
"I thought you'd never ask."
After he takes off his coat, they make conversation over wine for a spell and revel in the absence of anyone but themselves. Orihime wouldn't mind if they were the only two people in the world at this moment.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't be here earlier... I'd have cooked dinner for you." He tells her.
"It would be nice to have someone else's cooking for a change... But then, I needed time to make the place presentable, so don't give it another thought."
Orihime luxuriates in the sensation of having all the time in the world as they continue to talk. With the precision of a ninja, she expertly avoids the topic of her husband. She's gotten quite good at that - it saves them both the effort of gauging how awkward they should feel.
"I've had the best day. One thing has made it perfect, though." She says.
"What's that?" The question is so honest that she has to stifle a laugh. She swats him on the arm.
"Seeing you, silly!"
After their glasses have had a couple of refills, she asks for them to head upstairs.
"You're sure? I can still get us a motel room." Uryuu asks, not impolitely. It's natural that he would be concerned about fucking her in the same bed her husband sleeps in, she knows. Still...
"Sure about what?" She replies, innocently, twirling a lock of hair.
"Orihime, this is..."
"An opportunity that doesn't come around often." With deceptive demureness, she soothes his worries. Her fingers walk up his arm as she leans towards him. "I intend to seize it." Uryuu strokes her knuckles softly before interlacing her fingers with his.
"So bold." He murmurs and kisses her palm. Orihime grins, giddy at having snapped him out of his doubt.
"You love it."
He smiles. "Of course I do." Uryuu's words of affection are never anything less than saturated in unabashed sincerity and Orihime has never grown accustomed to it in all the time she's known him.
The last of her patience dries up, falls away like a match to a fuse and they tumble upstairs.
Her back is against the door and she tugs him closer, fervently with her fist clenched around his tie. She wants to rip Uryuu's shirt open then sew the buttons back on, lovingly, the next morning. But the last time she did that, she couldn't find enough buttons of the same design and ended up ruining garment. (It had been worth it for the expression on his face when she'd sent the buttons flying - but she didn't want to make a habit of it.) This time, she strokes her hands over his collar and without needing to be asked, he starts undoing them, one by one.
Orihime shrugs off her blouse before making quick work of her bra. She winds an arm around Uryuu when he's done with the shirt, pulling him in so she can suck on his neck. Rosy lipstick smears over his perfect skin and her heart swells. They stagger towards the bed and she hitches up her skirt as his hand finds its way downwards. With a playful nip at jugular, she manages to tear her lips away. He takes her place leaning back on the foot of the bed while he settles on his knees. His touch is electric as ever and as his tongue glides up her inner thigh, sparks begin to shoot through her. She sees stars dance on the ceiling and faintly wonders if anyone would ever expect her to be ashamed of this if they knew just how good Uryuu can make her feel.
They fall alseep together after, a tangle of limbs.
Hours later, Orihime wakes from a dream where she was on trial for murdering someone. It was someone important, but she couldn't remember who. The dream melts from her mind like a snowflake on a fingertip with every blink of her eyes as they reacquaint themselves with the darkness. Carefully, she slips out of the bed and cushions her initial footfalls on the discarded skirt that lies on the floor next to them. She stretches and shuts her eyes for a long moment.
In her head, her favourite song is playing again. Light on her feet, she glides over to her dresser, twirling as slowly as a ballerina in a music box. A framed photo of her and the other man is staring at her and it's the first time she's noticed it all night. It's easy to turn it down and leave it face down on the polished wood. Never mind all that, she thinks.
She turns around to walk back to Uryuu. He's still asleep, laying unassumingly among the bedsheets. This is one of her favourite sights, she's sure of it. His hair is appealingly strewn around his face and she reaches down to gently brush the messy locks out of his eyes. Her hand stays on his face even when she means to draw it back, entranced. She sees it stroke down to his chin and then his pale neck, where splotches of pink and red have blossomed like watercolors. Her thumb draws delicate circles on one mark on the junction between shoulder and neck. Curiously, she presses down on the pretty bruise, and feels a shock of warmth at the soft sound he makes. Her prince stirs and briefly, the urge to yank her hand away and feign innocence flits into her mind. His long eyelashes flutter open.
"Hi." He breathes. Her hand is still on his neck and he covers it with his.
"Hi yourself." She smiles. Her head swoops down and she captures his lips. "Sorry I woke you."
He shuffles to make more room for her. "Don't be. I should probably be leaving soon, right?" She settles next to him and lies her head on his shoulder.
"You don't have to. I don't have to pick up Kazui until 10, and Yuzu and Karin won't be back today, and... There's nothing to worry about. We could even eat downstairs at the table. If you want." Uryuu glances at the bedside clock, squinting without his glasses. 5:12. He doesn't have to be at the hospital until 6:45, she knows that. She loops an arm around his waist and presses closer to him.
"Then we can stay like this for a few more minutes. I'll make breakfast."
It's still dark out. His fingers stroke through her hair lovingly and Orihime closes her eyes. Maybe this would this be what she felt every day if the man she was holding was her husband. Silently, she prays that the world will end before the sun should ever rise.