Jaina (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
effervescible) wrote2006-05-25 10:59 pm
effervescible) wrote2006-05-25 10:59 pm
The internet is for ______:
Aw look, baby's first Bleach pornography.
Title: In the Midnight Hour
Word Count: 3,681
Spoilers: Technically up to chapter 227, but none of the really juicy stuff
Summary: Fighting and other verbs that start with f and end in -ing
Thanks: To![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raynos and lul1aby, who cheered me on, pointed on things that needed fixing, and generally kept me up far too late for several days now. Kisses, ladies.
In the interests of full disclosure, I thought of the fic before the title, but here, have a thematic mp3 anyway.
In the Midnight Hour
It is almost midnight when Ichigo realizes he is not alone. For hours now there has been nothing—no person or animal—and there has been no sound or sign to indicate this has changed, but Ichigo knows. Call it a hunch, call it a sign that he’s getting better at sensing reiatsu, but he knows someone is out there.
He just can’t see them.
He’d like to go back to the Visoreds’ hideout and sleep, but there are two problems with that: one, he can’t sleep. He should be ready to drop after several days of intense mask training with little improvement, but instead he’s restless, thrumming with a strange kind of energy he can’t identify.
The second problem is he’s not allowed to go back. The Visoreds had been noticeably rattled since Inoue’s surprised appearance days ago, and since then had taken turns doing nighttime guard duty in shifts, just to make sure. Tonight it’s his turn—but apparently Ichigo is so special his shift is the whole night with no one to relieve him.
“Six seconds is crap!” Hirako had proclaimed, shoving him towards the edge of Hacchi’s barrier. “Spend the whole night thinking about it, and maybe we’ll see some progress!”
He hadn’t argued because he’d thought he could use the space, but now he’s wishing he had. Then again, if it’s just a hollow, he can certainly take care of that by himself—
Before Ichigo can complete the thought, he hears the soft pat of rushing footfalls and turns to the sound, only to have the wind knocked out of him by a dark shape that then darts away. The warehouse district is not well-lit and the street lamp’s illumination does not reach this far.
He draws Zangetsu in a smooth motion, cursing himself for being so slow. “All right, who’s there?” he calls. For a long moment, there is silence, and then the almost-sound of a sword cutting through the air. He whirls to see a blade coming directly at his face and barely has time to block it with his own.
Ichigo is pissed now. Even freaking hollows have enough manners to let him see what he’s fighting. Before his attacker can skitter off into the dark again, Ichigo charges forward, swinging Zangetsu. The dark shape ducks down and to the side and Ichigo lets an older form of combat training take over, lashing out with a hard karate kick. He hears an “oof” of surprise and the shape rolls backwards, into the light. It’s smaller than he expected, dressed all in black—
His attacker sits up and Ichigo swears.
It’s Rukia.
He’s so surprised he nearly drops his zanpakutou. “What the fuck are you doing here?” It’s not the nicest welcome, but it’s from the heart.
Rukia says nothing, just glares and hops to her feet. His blade is pointed at the ground but hers, he notes, is pointed at him. She leaps at him, darting to his left, and he just barely manages to parry her strike. She still manages to elbow him sharply in the ribs—they’re really taking a bruising tonight.
“Hey!” he snaps. “I asked you a question. Did you not hear me?”
“I heard you,” she says, the timbre of her voice cold and controlled. She raises Shirayuki again. “I should think my purpose is obvious.”
She attacks again with a flurry of slashes, and damn, she is fast. She’s not going for a killing blow so Ichigo should be able to block them with ease, but he’s still confused and barely managing to keep from bleeding. “Well, forgive me if it’s not!” Rukia pauses and he lowers Zangetsu for a split second—and that’s when she shifts to flash step, scoring a long, shallow cut in his shoulder. “Hey!”
“I am here to take you home,” Rukia continues as if nothing’s happened. “If I have to beat you into submission to do it, so be it.”
Okay, this is just fucking stupid, and he says so. Rukia just shakes her head. “You do not belong here.”
“Rukia, stop. They can help me. I’m like them.”
“No, you are NOT!” she shouts. For a second, Ichigo thinks he sees tears in her eyes, and nearly dies from the shock. Then she stalks closer, and he decides no, not tears—just anger. “You left your family without a word,” she hisses. “You left all of us. Orihime had to tell me where you were! You unbelievable, unbelievable idiot! I can’t believe you trusted these strangers more than you trust—us!”
“It’s not like that,” he says. “It’s not that simple. Look.” He grits his teeth, reaches deep within himself, and the mask manifests in his hand. He holds it out to her. “You think anyone else knows how to deal with something like this?”
Rukia smashes it out of his hand with Shirayuki, leaving a bloody scratch across his palm. “We will find a way.”
He’s getting really pissed now. “Will you please just GO HOME?”
“No.” She brings Shirayuki to a guard position.
He has no choice but to do the same with Zangetsu. “Rukia, don’t do this. I don’t want to fight you.”
Her eyes narrow. “The choice is not yours.”
She attacks again, and there are no more words. It’s all Ichigo can do to keep his breath. Rukia is quick and precise, and her heart is obviously in this more than his. He wants to make her understand that he doesn’t WANT to do this, he HAS to, but she’s too busy trying to carve notches in his skin to listen, and he’s too busy trying to stop her.
They move quickly, closely matched. She knows his moves better than he knows hers, and she has the advantage of wanting to hurt him. Ichigo isn’t so pathetic that he can’t defend himself—he strikes back, putting her on the defensive, but he is unwilling to cut her and so she drives him back, pummeling him with a blade that is not a third the size of his own.
He needs to stop this, send her away. “Rukia!” The clang of metal against metal interrupts him, each blow harder than the next. His back is already against the wall of the warehouse. “Rukia, will you just—“
It’s the opening she needs. She moves in, faster than his eyes can follow, and strikes true—he looks down to see Rukia’s blade cutting through his uniform, all the way through the back. He can feel the blood welling up from the cut on his side.
Ichigo wants to say something now, but he cannot believe she has done this, and maybe she can’t either, because she’s staring up at him with eyes as wide as his own. They look at each other for a long moment, until she grabs him by the neckline of his uniform and pulls his head down, firmly planting his lips on hers.
He especially wants to say something now, but his mind has short-circuited. He’s never kissed anyone before and he’s not sure if this is how it usually happens—fierce and white-hot, an onslaught of touch and sensation. It’s more than a little awkward but Rukia seems to like it, because she bites his lower lip then, slipping the tip of her tongue through when he opens his mouth to squawk.
They pull away at the same time, breathing heavily, moreso than when they were fighting just a minute ago. They stare at each other some more and Ichigo feels so dumb. Rukia’s gaze is defiant, like he’s an idiot for no acceding to her in this, too. Like what she just did was no big deal.
The only thing he can think to do is pull her against him and kiss her again. She must not expect it because she makes a noise of protest in the back of her throat but doesn’t actually do anything else to protest. It’s his turn to probe unyielding lips, parting them with his tongue and finding hers. Ichigo knows they should be fighting, and he’s still pretty angry, but Rukia’s mouth has become the center of his world in a way it never was before and at least this way she’s shut up.
But only for a minute. Rukia doesn’t need only her lips to communicate; the growl in her throat does so as well. Her arms go up around his neck in a motion that would be closer to a chokehold if they could bend that way, and she pulls herself tightly against him, wrists locked so that he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t; he kisses her harder, showing her that she can’t just come and attack him and cut him and kiss him without consequence.
The logic is a little fuzzy, but so is his brain, and it’s getting fuzzier. They’re both trying to kiss the breath out of each other, locked in a battle that no longer obeys any rules of combat but they’re helpless to declare a cease-fire.
Rukia ups the ante by sliding one arm down between them to loosen his obi and pull at his kosode; the other yanks the material off one shoulder, practically tearing it, and she breaks the kiss to bite at it, licking away the trickles of blood left by her earlier slice. Her hands are everywhere now, sneaking beneath his clothes to press against the muscles of his chest, sliding up his spine. Ichigo moves to recapture her lips but she just slams him against the warehouse wall and bites down harder.
Fine then. If that’s the way she wants it…Ichigo shoves her away and, as she looks up in astonishment, grabs her by the waist and hauls her up in his arms so he no longer has to bend over. He means to put her off balance and doesn’t count on her next move—bereft of any other support, Rukia wraps her legs around him to steady herself.
All bets are off now. Ichigo zeroes in on her neck and covers it with open-mouthed kisses, catching the skin between his teeth and grinning mirthlessly when his actions prompt little gasps. He starts moving his own hands, exploring curves he’s never touched before. Rukia is not content to let him do all the work; she wriggles her body against him, kissing wherever she can reach, scoring faint trails in his skin with her nails. It goes on this way for some time, an all-out war of lips and teeth and tongues and hands, both of them fighting for dominance of how this is supposed to be.
But Ichigo’s arms are starting to go numb, and Rukia slips a little in his grasp, which results in her pressing down on his erection. They stare at each other, foreheads nearly touching, and for once Ichigo is at a loss what to do next. If he’s honest with himself, he’ll admit that this is not the first time Rukia has made him hard—but it’s certainly the first time she’s been present for it, and the first time she’s aware of it.
Rukia opens her mouth and he’s sure she’s going to tell him off, yell at him for letting things get this far. Instead, she leans forward and whispers in his ear.
“Not here.”
The next few minutes are a blur for Ichigo. He’s never been the greatest combat strategist, but this is a battle he flat-out cannot lose. He drops Rukia to her feet, kisses her deeply as insurance, and charges around the corner of the warehouse, pulling her by the hand. He knows this area—he’s done a little exploring on breaks, when the constant crowding got to be too much, and he knows it’s empty. There’s a door nearby; locked, but that means little when he hacks through it with Zangetsu.
It’s dark inside, streaked with moonlight through the windows. The alcove they step into is clearly a former reception area. Beyond it is a cavernous storage area, now empty, and here the furniture is gone, but there’s still carpet on the ground. It doesn’t look even a little soft, but it’s the best they’re going to get.
Still, he feels stupid—this is nothing to offer Rukia. But when he turns to her she’s looking at him with that same hard, enigmatic expression. She reaches up to touch his face, breathes out. “Ichigo.” And he knows he is lost.
She kisses him once, bites his lip a little to let him know he is not forgiven. He kisses her back, but looks down when they separate. The carpet looks dirty and, in his own way, Ichigo is a gentleman. He looks away from Rukia and, after disposing of his socks and waraji, pulls off his kosode and shitagi, leans over to spread them on the ground. It doesn’t seem to cover enough ground so, blushing furiously, he pulls at his obi knot. He doesn’t remember it being so tight—and then Rukia’s hands are there, pulling at it deftly, and it comes apart. She’s looking at his face, not his body, when his hakama slide off and they lower his underwear together.
Rukia isn’t finished. Ichigo can barely breathe as she slips her own clothes off her shoulders, works at the obi, and then they’re standing naked together. She moves first, which is good because Ichigo isn’t sure he can, stepping close to him and kissing where she can reach on his chest. Her hands start at his shoulders and move down, touching and exploring. They hesitate at his hips and oh, god, they’re right there and Ichigo doesn’t know what to do next because his brain has utterly ceased to function.
She strokes lightly along his length and he closes his eyes to stave off the dizziness. She stops before he can totally lose it and moves her hands back up his body, brushes her thumbs across his eyelids. “Ichigo,” she says again, and he knows he’ll do anything she asks. “I want you to touch me.”
He does as she says, but barely—he can’t bring himself to lower his hands past her shoulders. Not until she sighs, grabs his hands, and plants them on her…her…
Ichigo has not traditionally been a fan of breasts. Oh, they’re all right, but he’s trained himself to be oblivious to girls for so long that they never really made an impression, so to speak. Until now. Rukia’s breasts aren’t large, but they’re soft and smooth under his fingertips, and undoubtedly the greatest breasts ever.
Rukia resumes her gentle touching and Ichigo continues his, growing bolder every second he isn’t punched in the face. And it’s suddenly all too much—he wants to touch her everywhere, be touched everywhere. He pulls her into his arms. “Rukia…”
“Shhh.” She pulls him down for another kiss. Slowly, carefully, he lowers their bodies to the ground, on top of his clothes.
Things seem to shift in intensity once he’s on top of her. They’re both freer to kiss and grope at each other wherever they like. Rukia returns to biting him, but Ichigo doesn’t mind and returns the favor, peppering little nips all over her skin. Despite not knowing what he’s doing, he’s totally lost in the feeling until Rukia abruptly shoves her arms between them and flips him over on his back.
“What the he—“ he sputters, only to be silenced by Rukia’s mouth.
“I did not say you could talk,” she whispered sharply against his lips. She kisses hard, like she’s angry, and Ichigo thinks maybe their earlier fight isn’t over yet. It’s all he can do to hang on as she moves over him, on top of him.
He starts to move his hands up her body just as she sits up, straddling his waist. She weighs about half of nothing, but he can feel the moisture gathering between her legs—moreso when she grabs his right hand and puts it right there.
He yelps. He can’t help it. It’s not like he didn’t know where this was going, but he’s never been anywhere near…there…before. Rukia frowns and pokes him in the side, prompting another yelp because oh yeah, he’s still bleeding a little there. Rukia whispers the words of kidou and a soft glow appears around her right hand, soothing his hurt and closing the wound. She holds his hand in place with her left and rocks against it. The two sensations calm him, and he doesn’t protest when her fingers show his where to go.
He knows he’s got it right when she sucks in a breath and digs her nails into his skin. He moves his fingers carefully, stroking and circling. She’s wet and getting wetter the more he moves, and Ichigo decides he likes the look on her face. Blushing furiously but not caring, he slips a finger inside her. Rukia rocks harder and he groans; this might be good for her, but it’s just making him painfully aroused. “Rukia…please…”
She ceases her rocking and rests for a moment, as if deciding something. Then, without a word, she lifts herself off his hand and edges backwards. Her hands find his cock and she adjusts to find the right angle. He can feel her there, barely touching him, and it’s torture. He’s almost ready to grab her by the hips and thrust when she sinks down on him, surrounding him with heat a little at a time.
She’s so fucking warm is all he can think of. Warm and wet and tight and whatever fevered dreams he’s had about this are nothing compared to the real thing. She slides down slowly, carefully. Rukia looks determined but not like she’s in pain. Ichigo can’t imagine what his expression is. She slides him inside an inch at a time until he’s completely inside her then pauses so they can both adjust.
“Ichigo” she says, hands moving to rest on his shoulders. "Ichigo." She starts to move.
Everything is instinct at this point; he lets Rukia set the pace, lifting his hips to meet her as she moves up and down on him. He flexes his hands on her hips and feels an answering flex of her inner muscles, which just about makes him pass out. He doesn’t know what he likes better, the noises she’s making or the feeling of burying himself inside her.
Well, maybe he knows, but it’s a close race.
Ichigo can already feel himself getting closer to the edge and tries to slow their movements, but Rukia is having none of that. She moves harder, faster, stoking the fire between them until it’s about to explode. He can hear a sound coming from his own mouth and belatedly realizes it’s her name. She’s not very loud but the hitching gasps are coming faster now.
He bites his tongue when Rukia grabs his hand again, shoving it on the spot where they’re joined and grinding down on it. It’s all too much—he thrusts hard into her, driving himself deep. He’s too far gone for gentleness, but so is she. She squeezes him again and something twists inside him and he’s slamming into her, yelling ridiculously loud and coming so hard he swears he can see stars. When his eyesight clears, Rukia is riding out the remainder of his orgasm and he can see the change in her face when hers hits. A high keening escapes her lips and she pitches forward into his arms, moving against him until she just can’t anymore.
She lies against him for a long moment as their breath slows. He tightens his arms around her but she slides off of him and away, rolling onto her side so he’s facing her back. He stares for a minute, unsure of what he’s supposed to do now, but she’s not actually trying to get away, so he settles for putting an arm around her and nestling her against his chest.
After a minute she relaxes against him and he sinks back into languor. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in days, weeks even. He runs his fingers up and down her body, making little patterns. She shivers a little and he presses a kiss against the back of her neck. He tries to move his hand to a more interesting place, but Rukia catches it in hers and says something under her breath.
“What’s that?”
“I didn’t find you,” she repeats. “Tonight I went out hunting for you…but you were inside the barrier. I didn’t find you. I didn’t see you. If people ask, that is what I will tell them.”
Ichigo supposes it is time to get dressed.
It doesn’t take long for them to re-situate themselves. Ichigo sorts out their clothes and Rukia doesn’t hit him when he helps her pull hers on, even if it’s completely unnecessary. She’s not acting mad at him, exactly. Just resigned.
They don’t say a word as they walk back to where she jumped him. Saying something might make this real, and Ichigo isn’t at all sure it is. They pause under the street lamp and she looks up at him with an expression he can’t decipher. He leans down and kisses her, trying to show her everything he would say if he had the words. She kisses back, but the heat of righteous anger is gone now and eventually the kiss ends.
When it does, she punches him in the face and walks away.
Ichigo shakes his head as an entirely different set of stars clears from his vision. He supposes he deserved that. She’s gone when he looks around, not that he’d need to follow her. He knows the way home.
He turns and walks in the opposite direction. What just happened was weird, really weird, and he’s going to have to think hard about what it means. But not right now. Now it’s time to get back to work. He’s got so much to do, and miles to go.
Title: In the Midnight Hour
Word Count: 3,681
Spoilers: Technically up to chapter 227, but none of the really juicy stuff
Summary: Fighting and other verbs that start with f and end in -ing
Thanks: To
raynos and lul1aby, who cheered me on, pointed on things that needed fixing, and generally kept me up far too late for several days now. Kisses, ladies.In the interests of full disclosure, I thought of the fic before the title, but here, have a thematic mp3 anyway.
In the Midnight Hour
It is almost midnight when Ichigo realizes he is not alone. For hours now there has been nothing—no person or animal—and there has been no sound or sign to indicate this has changed, but Ichigo knows. Call it a hunch, call it a sign that he’s getting better at sensing reiatsu, but he knows someone is out there.
He just can’t see them.
He’d like to go back to the Visoreds’ hideout and sleep, but there are two problems with that: one, he can’t sleep. He should be ready to drop after several days of intense mask training with little improvement, but instead he’s restless, thrumming with a strange kind of energy he can’t identify.
The second problem is he’s not allowed to go back. The Visoreds had been noticeably rattled since Inoue’s surprised appearance days ago, and since then had taken turns doing nighttime guard duty in shifts, just to make sure. Tonight it’s his turn—but apparently Ichigo is so special his shift is the whole night with no one to relieve him.
“Six seconds is crap!” Hirako had proclaimed, shoving him towards the edge of Hacchi’s barrier. “Spend the whole night thinking about it, and maybe we’ll see some progress!”
He hadn’t argued because he’d thought he could use the space, but now he’s wishing he had. Then again, if it’s just a hollow, he can certainly take care of that by himself—
Before Ichigo can complete the thought, he hears the soft pat of rushing footfalls and turns to the sound, only to have the wind knocked out of him by a dark shape that then darts away. The warehouse district is not well-lit and the street lamp’s illumination does not reach this far.
He draws Zangetsu in a smooth motion, cursing himself for being so slow. “All right, who’s there?” he calls. For a long moment, there is silence, and then the almost-sound of a sword cutting through the air. He whirls to see a blade coming directly at his face and barely has time to block it with his own.
Ichigo is pissed now. Even freaking hollows have enough manners to let him see what he’s fighting. Before his attacker can skitter off into the dark again, Ichigo charges forward, swinging Zangetsu. The dark shape ducks down and to the side and Ichigo lets an older form of combat training take over, lashing out with a hard karate kick. He hears an “oof” of surprise and the shape rolls backwards, into the light. It’s smaller than he expected, dressed all in black—
His attacker sits up and Ichigo swears.
It’s Rukia.
He’s so surprised he nearly drops his zanpakutou. “What the fuck are you doing here?” It’s not the nicest welcome, but it’s from the heart.
Rukia says nothing, just glares and hops to her feet. His blade is pointed at the ground but hers, he notes, is pointed at him. She leaps at him, darting to his left, and he just barely manages to parry her strike. She still manages to elbow him sharply in the ribs—they’re really taking a bruising tonight.
“Hey!” he snaps. “I asked you a question. Did you not hear me?”
“I heard you,” she says, the timbre of her voice cold and controlled. She raises Shirayuki again. “I should think my purpose is obvious.”
She attacks again with a flurry of slashes, and damn, she is fast. She’s not going for a killing blow so Ichigo should be able to block them with ease, but he’s still confused and barely managing to keep from bleeding. “Well, forgive me if it’s not!” Rukia pauses and he lowers Zangetsu for a split second—and that’s when she shifts to flash step, scoring a long, shallow cut in his shoulder. “Hey!”
“I am here to take you home,” Rukia continues as if nothing’s happened. “If I have to beat you into submission to do it, so be it.”
Okay, this is just fucking stupid, and he says so. Rukia just shakes her head. “You do not belong here.”
“Rukia, stop. They can help me. I’m like them.”
“No, you are NOT!” she shouts. For a second, Ichigo thinks he sees tears in her eyes, and nearly dies from the shock. Then she stalks closer, and he decides no, not tears—just anger. “You left your family without a word,” she hisses. “You left all of us. Orihime had to tell me where you were! You unbelievable, unbelievable idiot! I can’t believe you trusted these strangers more than you trust—us!”
“It’s not like that,” he says. “It’s not that simple. Look.” He grits his teeth, reaches deep within himself, and the mask manifests in his hand. He holds it out to her. “You think anyone else knows how to deal with something like this?”
Rukia smashes it out of his hand with Shirayuki, leaving a bloody scratch across his palm. “We will find a way.”
He’s getting really pissed now. “Will you please just GO HOME?”
“No.” She brings Shirayuki to a guard position.
He has no choice but to do the same with Zangetsu. “Rukia, don’t do this. I don’t want to fight you.”
Her eyes narrow. “The choice is not yours.”
She attacks again, and there are no more words. It’s all Ichigo can do to keep his breath. Rukia is quick and precise, and her heart is obviously in this more than his. He wants to make her understand that he doesn’t WANT to do this, he HAS to, but she’s too busy trying to carve notches in his skin to listen, and he’s too busy trying to stop her.
They move quickly, closely matched. She knows his moves better than he knows hers, and she has the advantage of wanting to hurt him. Ichigo isn’t so pathetic that he can’t defend himself—he strikes back, putting her on the defensive, but he is unwilling to cut her and so she drives him back, pummeling him with a blade that is not a third the size of his own.
He needs to stop this, send her away. “Rukia!” The clang of metal against metal interrupts him, each blow harder than the next. His back is already against the wall of the warehouse. “Rukia, will you just—“
It’s the opening she needs. She moves in, faster than his eyes can follow, and strikes true—he looks down to see Rukia’s blade cutting through his uniform, all the way through the back. He can feel the blood welling up from the cut on his side.
Ichigo wants to say something now, but he cannot believe she has done this, and maybe she can’t either, because she’s staring up at him with eyes as wide as his own. They look at each other for a long moment, until she grabs him by the neckline of his uniform and pulls his head down, firmly planting his lips on hers.
He especially wants to say something now, but his mind has short-circuited. He’s never kissed anyone before and he’s not sure if this is how it usually happens—fierce and white-hot, an onslaught of touch and sensation. It’s more than a little awkward but Rukia seems to like it, because she bites his lower lip then, slipping the tip of her tongue through when he opens his mouth to squawk.
They pull away at the same time, breathing heavily, moreso than when they were fighting just a minute ago. They stare at each other some more and Ichigo feels so dumb. Rukia’s gaze is defiant, like he’s an idiot for no acceding to her in this, too. Like what she just did was no big deal.
The only thing he can think to do is pull her against him and kiss her again. She must not expect it because she makes a noise of protest in the back of her throat but doesn’t actually do anything else to protest. It’s his turn to probe unyielding lips, parting them with his tongue and finding hers. Ichigo knows they should be fighting, and he’s still pretty angry, but Rukia’s mouth has become the center of his world in a way it never was before and at least this way she’s shut up.
But only for a minute. Rukia doesn’t need only her lips to communicate; the growl in her throat does so as well. Her arms go up around his neck in a motion that would be closer to a chokehold if they could bend that way, and she pulls herself tightly against him, wrists locked so that he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t; he kisses her harder, showing her that she can’t just come and attack him and cut him and kiss him without consequence.
The logic is a little fuzzy, but so is his brain, and it’s getting fuzzier. They’re both trying to kiss the breath out of each other, locked in a battle that no longer obeys any rules of combat but they’re helpless to declare a cease-fire.
Rukia ups the ante by sliding one arm down between them to loosen his obi and pull at his kosode; the other yanks the material off one shoulder, practically tearing it, and she breaks the kiss to bite at it, licking away the trickles of blood left by her earlier slice. Her hands are everywhere now, sneaking beneath his clothes to press against the muscles of his chest, sliding up his spine. Ichigo moves to recapture her lips but she just slams him against the warehouse wall and bites down harder.
Fine then. If that’s the way she wants it…Ichigo shoves her away and, as she looks up in astonishment, grabs her by the waist and hauls her up in his arms so he no longer has to bend over. He means to put her off balance and doesn’t count on her next move—bereft of any other support, Rukia wraps her legs around him to steady herself.
All bets are off now. Ichigo zeroes in on her neck and covers it with open-mouthed kisses, catching the skin between his teeth and grinning mirthlessly when his actions prompt little gasps. He starts moving his own hands, exploring curves he’s never touched before. Rukia is not content to let him do all the work; she wriggles her body against him, kissing wherever she can reach, scoring faint trails in his skin with her nails. It goes on this way for some time, an all-out war of lips and teeth and tongues and hands, both of them fighting for dominance of how this is supposed to be.
But Ichigo’s arms are starting to go numb, and Rukia slips a little in his grasp, which results in her pressing down on his erection. They stare at each other, foreheads nearly touching, and for once Ichigo is at a loss what to do next. If he’s honest with himself, he’ll admit that this is not the first time Rukia has made him hard—but it’s certainly the first time she’s been present for it, and the first time she’s aware of it.
Rukia opens her mouth and he’s sure she’s going to tell him off, yell at him for letting things get this far. Instead, she leans forward and whispers in his ear.
“Not here.”
The next few minutes are a blur for Ichigo. He’s never been the greatest combat strategist, but this is a battle he flat-out cannot lose. He drops Rukia to her feet, kisses her deeply as insurance, and charges around the corner of the warehouse, pulling her by the hand. He knows this area—he’s done a little exploring on breaks, when the constant crowding got to be too much, and he knows it’s empty. There’s a door nearby; locked, but that means little when he hacks through it with Zangetsu.
It’s dark inside, streaked with moonlight through the windows. The alcove they step into is clearly a former reception area. Beyond it is a cavernous storage area, now empty, and here the furniture is gone, but there’s still carpet on the ground. It doesn’t look even a little soft, but it’s the best they’re going to get.
Still, he feels stupid—this is nothing to offer Rukia. But when he turns to her she’s looking at him with that same hard, enigmatic expression. She reaches up to touch his face, breathes out. “Ichigo.” And he knows he is lost.
She kisses him once, bites his lip a little to let him know he is not forgiven. He kisses her back, but looks down when they separate. The carpet looks dirty and, in his own way, Ichigo is a gentleman. He looks away from Rukia and, after disposing of his socks and waraji, pulls off his kosode and shitagi, leans over to spread them on the ground. It doesn’t seem to cover enough ground so, blushing furiously, he pulls at his obi knot. He doesn’t remember it being so tight—and then Rukia’s hands are there, pulling at it deftly, and it comes apart. She’s looking at his face, not his body, when his hakama slide off and they lower his underwear together.
Rukia isn’t finished. Ichigo can barely breathe as she slips her own clothes off her shoulders, works at the obi, and then they’re standing naked together. She moves first, which is good because Ichigo isn’t sure he can, stepping close to him and kissing where she can reach on his chest. Her hands start at his shoulders and move down, touching and exploring. They hesitate at his hips and oh, god, they’re right there and Ichigo doesn’t know what to do next because his brain has utterly ceased to function.
She strokes lightly along his length and he closes his eyes to stave off the dizziness. She stops before he can totally lose it and moves her hands back up his body, brushes her thumbs across his eyelids. “Ichigo,” she says again, and he knows he’ll do anything she asks. “I want you to touch me.”
He does as she says, but barely—he can’t bring himself to lower his hands past her shoulders. Not until she sighs, grabs his hands, and plants them on her…her…
Ichigo has not traditionally been a fan of breasts. Oh, they’re all right, but he’s trained himself to be oblivious to girls for so long that they never really made an impression, so to speak. Until now. Rukia’s breasts aren’t large, but they’re soft and smooth under his fingertips, and undoubtedly the greatest breasts ever.
Rukia resumes her gentle touching and Ichigo continues his, growing bolder every second he isn’t punched in the face. And it’s suddenly all too much—he wants to touch her everywhere, be touched everywhere. He pulls her into his arms. “Rukia…”
“Shhh.” She pulls him down for another kiss. Slowly, carefully, he lowers their bodies to the ground, on top of his clothes.
Things seem to shift in intensity once he’s on top of her. They’re both freer to kiss and grope at each other wherever they like. Rukia returns to biting him, but Ichigo doesn’t mind and returns the favor, peppering little nips all over her skin. Despite not knowing what he’s doing, he’s totally lost in the feeling until Rukia abruptly shoves her arms between them and flips him over on his back.
“What the he—“ he sputters, only to be silenced by Rukia’s mouth.
“I did not say you could talk,” she whispered sharply against his lips. She kisses hard, like she’s angry, and Ichigo thinks maybe their earlier fight isn’t over yet. It’s all he can do to hang on as she moves over him, on top of him.
He starts to move his hands up her body just as she sits up, straddling his waist. She weighs about half of nothing, but he can feel the moisture gathering between her legs—moreso when she grabs his right hand and puts it right there.
He yelps. He can’t help it. It’s not like he didn’t know where this was going, but he’s never been anywhere near…there…before. Rukia frowns and pokes him in the side, prompting another yelp because oh yeah, he’s still bleeding a little there. Rukia whispers the words of kidou and a soft glow appears around her right hand, soothing his hurt and closing the wound. She holds his hand in place with her left and rocks against it. The two sensations calm him, and he doesn’t protest when her fingers show his where to go.
He knows he’s got it right when she sucks in a breath and digs her nails into his skin. He moves his fingers carefully, stroking and circling. She’s wet and getting wetter the more he moves, and Ichigo decides he likes the look on her face. Blushing furiously but not caring, he slips a finger inside her. Rukia rocks harder and he groans; this might be good for her, but it’s just making him painfully aroused. “Rukia…please…”
She ceases her rocking and rests for a moment, as if deciding something. Then, without a word, she lifts herself off his hand and edges backwards. Her hands find his cock and she adjusts to find the right angle. He can feel her there, barely touching him, and it’s torture. He’s almost ready to grab her by the hips and thrust when she sinks down on him, surrounding him with heat a little at a time.
She’s so fucking warm is all he can think of. Warm and wet and tight and whatever fevered dreams he’s had about this are nothing compared to the real thing. She slides down slowly, carefully. Rukia looks determined but not like she’s in pain. Ichigo can’t imagine what his expression is. She slides him inside an inch at a time until he’s completely inside her then pauses so they can both adjust.
“Ichigo” she says, hands moving to rest on his shoulders. "Ichigo." She starts to move.
Everything is instinct at this point; he lets Rukia set the pace, lifting his hips to meet her as she moves up and down on him. He flexes his hands on her hips and feels an answering flex of her inner muscles, which just about makes him pass out. He doesn’t know what he likes better, the noises she’s making or the feeling of burying himself inside her.
Well, maybe he knows, but it’s a close race.
Ichigo can already feel himself getting closer to the edge and tries to slow their movements, but Rukia is having none of that. She moves harder, faster, stoking the fire between them until it’s about to explode. He can hear a sound coming from his own mouth and belatedly realizes it’s her name. She’s not very loud but the hitching gasps are coming faster now.
He bites his tongue when Rukia grabs his hand again, shoving it on the spot where they’re joined and grinding down on it. It’s all too much—he thrusts hard into her, driving himself deep. He’s too far gone for gentleness, but so is she. She squeezes him again and something twists inside him and he’s slamming into her, yelling ridiculously loud and coming so hard he swears he can see stars. When his eyesight clears, Rukia is riding out the remainder of his orgasm and he can see the change in her face when hers hits. A high keening escapes her lips and she pitches forward into his arms, moving against him until she just can’t anymore.
She lies against him for a long moment as their breath slows. He tightens his arms around her but she slides off of him and away, rolling onto her side so he’s facing her back. He stares for a minute, unsure of what he’s supposed to do now, but she’s not actually trying to get away, so he settles for putting an arm around her and nestling her against his chest.
After a minute she relaxes against him and he sinks back into languor. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in days, weeks even. He runs his fingers up and down her body, making little patterns. She shivers a little and he presses a kiss against the back of her neck. He tries to move his hand to a more interesting place, but Rukia catches it in hers and says something under her breath.
“What’s that?”
“I didn’t find you,” she repeats. “Tonight I went out hunting for you…but you were inside the barrier. I didn’t find you. I didn’t see you. If people ask, that is what I will tell them.”
Ichigo supposes it is time to get dressed.
It doesn’t take long for them to re-situate themselves. Ichigo sorts out their clothes and Rukia doesn’t hit him when he helps her pull hers on, even if it’s completely unnecessary. She’s not acting mad at him, exactly. Just resigned.
They don’t say a word as they walk back to where she jumped him. Saying something might make this real, and Ichigo isn’t at all sure it is. They pause under the street lamp and she looks up at him with an expression he can’t decipher. He leans down and kisses her, trying to show her everything he would say if he had the words. She kisses back, but the heat of righteous anger is gone now and eventually the kiss ends.
When it does, she punches him in the face and walks away.
Ichigo shakes his head as an entirely different set of stars clears from his vision. He supposes he deserved that. She’s gone when he looks around, not that he’d need to follow her. He knows the way home.
He turns and walks in the opposite direction. What just happened was weird, really weird, and he’s going to have to think hard about what it means. But not right now. Now it’s time to get back to work. He’s got so much to do, and miles to go.
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Ok, now that that's out of the way, I loved it. :D
I actually really like your writing style, and I'd love for it to continue. And I didn't think it was OOC at all, especially the end, lol!