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The village appeared one day while he rested. It sprang up with a speed only known by humans. Hovels turned to homes and grand temples. Lights danced on the surface of his lake, reflecting back to his eyes the beauty that could be achieved by human innovation. His curiosity lured him down from his throne, from his cold kingdom. The humans didn’t shy away like their less intelligent ancestors. They watched him, whispered, and revered.
Monuments appeared soon after. Obelisks of white stone, cold as the surface of the lake. As cold as his skin. The more clever humans created statues of him. The temples changed, shifted, until only his name graced their halls.
Ulquiorra. God of the moon, god of the tides. The god of the harvest.
He no longer remembered when he bestowed them his grace. It felt unimportant. But his favor came with strings. With… necessary requirements. He no longer paid mind to who they chose to sacrifice to him. They were all the same in the end. Tender. Young. Wide-eyed and in awe.
A soft tug pulled at his fingers. The priests of his temple devised some magical device to stir him. One of the more vulgar gods likened it to his dinner bell. Idiotic creature. This was no mere meal. Ulquiorra would never bother to descend his throne for scraps.
He stood and waved his hand. The throne room fell away in glimmering waves. He stepped out into the night sky over the village. Over his lake.
The altar stood to the eastern shore. It was made of solid marble, polished to a shine that reflected the moonlight. The year’s sacrifice waited for him between the two pillars at the shore’s edge. The light from the torches bathed her in a soft amber. She was a young woman with red hair that cascaded past her shoulders and down her back.
Like all of his female sacrifices, she wore a white gossamer gown. The wind coming off the lake rustled its edges, and he could see the shape of her breasts and curve of her hips through the material. He settled on the lake and watched her head lift. Her eyes widened. She swallowed.
He lingered, watching her, before he took a step forward. Another. The lake’s surface rippled with his footsteps. The woman’s eyes remained riveted on him. She kept her arms at her sides, but he could see the tremble in her shoulders. The look in her eyes wasn’t one of fear, however, but something else. Something… almost hungry.
Ulquiorra stopped at the water’s edge while she remained on the sand. He was close enough to touch.. She stared up at him with gray eyes. The priestess had painted her lips with a pale pink gloss. It made them shine in the light of the torches. Soft, wet. Plump.
When he spoke, she jumped. “Tell me your name.”
Her lips fumbled, mumbling an assortment of aborted words before settling on, “Orihime, your grace.”
Ulquiorra lifted his hand to cup her cheek. The woman – Orihime – leaned into the touch. He stroked his thumb beneath her eye. Her skin felt smooth, soft. She’d been well taken care of. She must have been chosen right after his previous sacrifice. He tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear. She shivered, and her lashes dipped. A light color came to her cheeks.
Ulquiorra turned away to address the altar. He wiped his hand across the surface to warm it. “You will –”
Hands pressed to the middle of his back. They shoved. Hard. He stumbled over his robes and smacked both hands on the altar to avoid faceplanting. He glanced back to see Orihime staring down at him. The black of her pupils threatened to devour the entirety of her irises. The blush remained, but he could feel the heat of her body. Her desire. Smell her want on the cool lake air.
“Forgive my forwardness, my grace.” She averted her eyes but only for a moment. They returned to him with something he couldn’t quite name. Something he wanted. She continued, “I’m happy to be offered to you.”
“I can see that.” Few others dared to touch him. He found his curiosity piqued. He turned around and rested his hands on the altar, offering her unspoken permission.
Orihime made a soft noise, and he watched the blush creep down her neck. He was sure if he peeled away that garment, it would consume her breasts as well. “The others say you’re very good. That you’ve earned the title of the harvest god.”
She stepped closer and settled her hands on his chest. Her fingers moved down the seams of his robes, down to his belt. They worked quickly to undo it and opened his robe. There was no fear in her eyes, but there was a shyness in how she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. But that hunger. That need. Oh, he could feel it in the way her warm fingers ghosted over his cool skin. How it made his own flesh tremble with want.
How his mouth watered at the thought of tasting her. Of having her. Devouring her.
She did not fear her god. No. This was a desire. Pure. Raw.
Orihime eased his robes down his shoulders and stroked his skin. She chewed her lip, let it go. Her eyes lifted to meet his. “I want this to be special for you because… it’s everything to me.”
Ulquiorra’s lashes dipped. He straightened up long enough to let his clothes fall to the ground. He settled back against the altar to allow her to finish undressing him. Her hands were gentle, reverent in a way no other sacrifice dared. They didn’t tremble, didn’t pause. They moved with purpose.
She was different from the rest.
He lifted his hand to catch the single clip holding her gown closed. It opened with a click. The dress slipped off her shoulders, caught on her breasts, and then continued to the ground. Orihime looked away from him. Her nipples perked under his gaze. He thought about what they might taste like. Warm, soft. His last sacrifice had not been so… well endowed.
The air turned colder around them. Orihime shivered and pushed him further onto the altar. She clambered onto his lap, straddled him. The heat of her core sent a pulse rushing through him. A groan built in his chest.
Orihime lifted her hands and let them hover near his shoulders. Hesitation appeared as fluttering lashes and her lip between her teeth again.
Ulquiorra let out a breath. “You don’t need to fear. Tonight, I belong to you in the same way you belong to me.”
Her lashes stilled, and warm palms settled on his shoulders. Ulquiorra shuddered at the touch of her hands. How her body sought to warm him.
“If that’s true…” Orihime canted her head down until their lips brushed.
She hesitated again, but only for a moment. Her lips came flush to his, and he could taste the flavor of her lip gloss: cherry. Her mouth moved over his with a desperate need, but she didn’t flounder like some of her predecessors. He allowed her to move at her pace, meeting her intensity.
He settled his hands on her hips. Her fingers trailed along his shoulders, his ribs, and back. The kiss broke when she pulled her head away. A little part of him whispered to chase, but he resisted. It would be over too soon if he gave in to his base desires.
Orihime stroked her hands over his chest, squeezed his pecs, and trailed her fingertips down his stomach. Her tongue darted across her lips before she touched his cock. It had already stiffened during their kiss. It twitched in interest, and she giggled. Warm fingers stroked along his length, coaxing him to full hardness.
Ulquiorra doubted most of his sacrifices were virgins. Many of them seemed too eager to bend over for him. Not Orihime… he imagined she might have been pure. He never cared for something so trivial. Other gods did, but a virgin was a headache.
But not her.
Orihime stroked his cock with determination. Her lower lip remained between her teeth. A pity. He’d like it between his.
“If you keep going, you’ll make me finish before we’ve even started.” Ulquiorra’s lips twitched at their corners. Never a full smile.
Orihime’s lashes fluttered. “Oh.”
“Oh,” he echoed and laid back against the altar. His cock stood at attention.
Orihime sat on his thighs, watching it. Then she lifted herself up. Ulquiorra’s eyes roved down her body to pause between her legs. Her pubic hair was trimmed and neat. He could see the shine against the inside of her thighs. He inhaled her arousal with a groan.
He rasped, “Show me yourself.”
“Wha-what?” Orihime froze.
Ulquiorra waved his hand toward her cunt. “Spread your labia. Expose yourself to me.”
“O-oh.” One of her hands lifted slowly.
She looked away from him, let her hand hang in the air, before she looked at him. A fire burned in her eyes. She pressed her hand to her stomach, spread her fingers, and slowly let it slide down. Her fingers brushed over her pubic mound, dipping further. She spread her labia and angled her hips to expose her swollen clit. He thought of cherries, or pomegranate beads.
A groan rumbled out of Ulquiorra, and he imagined how sweet she’d taste. How he’d have to eat her after he was finished. He took hold of himself, pumping in a lazy rhythm. With his free hand, he skimmed his knuckles over her hip.
Orihime understood the request and lifted herself up. She wiggled closer until she sat poised over him.
Ulquiorra murmured, “I would normally take more time to arouse you, but I find that unnecessary.”
Orihime’s breath came out in a little gasp. “I’ve been… fantasizing about this. About… you.”
“I’m sure you will grant your village a fine harvest this year.” Ulquiorra hummed.
“Yes. I will.” She eased herself down.
The heat of her cunt enveloped him before his tip even caught her entrance. It sent chills running through him. Then she started to take him inside. The heat, the pressure. Ulquiorra clenched his jaw and sucked in a greedy breath. Orihime’s head fell back, and she let out a sharp gasp.
He felt a pop. Definitely a virgin.
But there was no sign of distress, no whimper. Orihime’s hands gripped his knees as she sank further, took him deeper. The tight confines of her cunt closed around him, choking his cock. And then she came to rest flush against him. Little trembles racked her body. Her breasts jiggled. Ulquiorra settled his hands on her hips to draw nonsense against her skin with his fingertips.
They lingered a moment, basking in the other’s heat. In the fall. Then Ulquiorra tightened his grip on Orihime’s hips. He lifted her. Up, up until only his tip remained. And then he let her go. Gravity did the rest, and she sank back down before catching herself.
A moan tumbled past her lips. Beautiful as any sound he’d heard. Ulquiorra repeated the action again and again until Orihime understood. Until she started to lift and drop herself. Her hands slid forward to rest on his chest. Her nails scraped skin, he hissed in pleasure.
She bounced on his lap. The sound of wet skin smacking skin echoed off the lake. He stared up at her, watched her lean back to push back her hair. Her breasts bounced freely now her arms weren’t pinning them down. Soft, warm.
Ulquiorra sat up and caught one with his mouth. It slowed Orihime’s momentum, but she recovered fast. Someone must have taught her something. She pivoted her hips to grind against him, squeezing his cock like a vise. He palmed her other breast and swirled his tongue around her nipple. Sucked hard.
She gasped, “Ulquiorra!”
He pulled off her breast to go for the other, sucking her nipple until she quaked. He released her breasts and kissed her chest, over her heart. The smell of her sweat made his head feel fuzzy. The scent of springtime lingered on her skin. Even when he licked a trail up to her neck she tasted like flowers.
He peppered kisses over her pulse, felt her tighten. He wrapped his arms around her back to keep her pinned. Her hips twitched and tried to roll forward.
“Shh,” he murmured against her ear before he returned to kissing her neck.
Then he nipped at her. But that wasn’t enough. Never enough. He bit down on her shoulder. She gasped and forced her body even closer to his, as if she could press herself into his rib cage. Maybe she could. Maybe he’d let her.
Ulquiorra watched her while he sucked a mark into a bruise. His nails scratched down her back in an arch. He could feel skin give. She was marked then. The crescents of the moon god.
Orihime slid her hands through his hair, scratched at his scalp, and pulled his head away. He stared up at her, mouth open. Panting. Her own lips fell open, her own breath coming in rushes. She pushed him back down against the cooling marble.
Their eyes met, and she leaned back to offer herself in her entirety. Ulquiorra’s gaze flickered down her body from her face, to her breasts, to where they were connected at her core.
Orihime squeezed his knees again, tighter. She lifted up and dropped. This new pace was faster, harder. She clung to his cock every time she lifted herself back up. Her breasts bounced. Sweat glistened off of them, off every inch of her skin despite the cool night air.
Ulquiorra lifted his hands to cup her breasts. Pinched and tugged her nipples. Orihime gasped and clapped her own hands over his. He thought about his realm, and his quiet palace. It had been so long since he kept a lover. Would she be happy there? With him? Would she want to belong… permanently? Far beyond the harvest. Far beyond eternity.
His eyes flickered down to watch his cock disappear inside of her, over and over. He could feel the tension building in his gut. Feel a tightness in his balls. Close. But he didn’t want to spill inside of her yet. Not until she tipped forward into ecstasy.
Ulquiorra lowered his hands to her hips then down to spread her labia. He thumbed her clit. Orihime let out a guttural noise that almost sounded like a scream. He swirled his thumb around her clit, pressed against it. She shuddered hard around him and came to a stop. Her walls quaked around his cock.
“Ul-Ulquiorra…!”
Her inner walls clamped around him and pulsed in time with her rapid heartbeat. He could feel her trying to milk him. He gave one final thrust up before spilling inside of her. Orihime whimpered, but clung to him. He felt his cock give a few final spurts as the worst of her pulsing eased.
She leaned over him. The curtain of her hair fell over his face and tickled his nose. He brushed it back. She smiled at him, warm and sweet as the sun. As any fruit. She leaned down to kiss him. It was slower this time, softer. Her tongue darted across his lips.
She eased back and asked, “Will we have a good harvest?”
Ulquiorra stroked his hand over her stomach. “The festival will be fruitful this year with you at its center.”
Orihime’s smile widened. She kissed him again and even dared to nip his lip. Cheeky thing. He swatted her ass. She giggled and pulled back. They were still connected. His cock slowly deflated inside of her. His seed oozed down her thighs.
She tilted her head. “Will you appear this year?”
Ulquiorra considered her for a long moment. “If you carry my child, yes.”
But it was rare for any of his sacrifices to take fruit. It had been well over a century since the last villager managed to conceive. The child didn’t survive for long, but its subsequent burial site produced the sweetest fruit trees Ulquiorra had ever tasted.
Orihime folded her hand over his. “I’d like to give you that. A baby.”
Ulquiorra hummed. He imagined she would. And maybe… if he took her back to the moon, she could. He settled his hands on her hips again and pushed himself up. He stood, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. Her eyes sparkled while he walked them toward the lake.
The cool water brushed his ankles, and he carried them deeper into the water. Orihime untangled from him to stand on her own feet.
She asked, “Is this the end?”
Ulquiorra cupped his hands, dipped them in the lake, and poured water over her head. He touched her skin and admired the way it pinkened from the cold.
He murmured, “No. Just the beginning.”
Orihime’s smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. She leaned up to kiss his mouth. Then she cupped her own hands and began to wash him. Ulquiorra allowed it, feeling an odd sense in his chest. Almost like a heartbeat. A desire so deep, he never knew it could exist.
Maybe… maybe he would keep her.
