Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Breath ❯ One-Shot

A/N: I have never written a lemon before. Citrus, yes, but lemon? Nope. Hopefully, this won't be bad. *crosses fingers* It's kind of PWP, since I don't really give much back story, but that's because I wanted the timeline to be ambiguous. One, I've only read up to Vol. 4 of the manga; two, I have never seen the anime; and three, what I do know is from summaries. So... yeah. If I screw up, sorry.

 

 

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Rukia quietly slid the closet door open. She slid out and padded over to where Ichigo laid, sprawled out over his bed. She knelt beside his bed and studied his face. He was so calm. His features weren't drawn into his normal scowl, the one that made him appear as if he wished to smack the world upside its head. She smiled to herself; she knew for a fact that was, indeed, what he would like to do.

 

 

She didn't know when it happened or how. She had given up on trying to answer those two questions. Much like many things in this strange world, they would remain a mystery and lay unanswered. She sighed and rested her head on his bed. She listened to his slow, almost silent breathing. It had taken her forever to admit that it was his breathing that allowed her to rest. If she couldn't hear it or know it was there, she couldn't sleep at night. Something so simple and as common as breathing had become her lullaby. It was comforting to her; he was comforting. This world was so strange to her and she didn't understand most of it. If she was honest with herself, many things scared her. But... she never was afraid, not as long he was there. As long as he was there and breathing...

 

 

She shook her head and scowled at herself. When had she become so sentimental? The scowl faded; to that, sadly, she did have the answer. Thoughts of impending doom had made her realize just how precious everything, even something as trivial as his breathing, truly was. She had given more thought than she had all of their time together previously, and had realized something along the way. She really cared about him.

 

 

Maybe it was love. She had never known it, not this kind, so how could she know? But whether it was love or care, she felt it deeply for him. He was so infuriating, stubborn, and most of the time she wanted to do nothing more than throttle him. But beneath that, he had shown that he was brave, loyal, caring, and honest. He was thrown into a life he didn't want and hadn't asked for, yet he did it without too much complaint. And no matter how much he did complain, he never failed, never gave up, and never quit trying. He was her only constant in this world, and she would never be able to thank him enough.

 

 

Her thoughts turned to the darkness that hung over her future. It was coming, and there was no way she could stop it. It was like death for these humans; no matter what you did, eventually you would die. You couldn't stop it; only put it off for a little while. And that was what she had been doing-- putting off the inevitable. She could dodge it as much as she wanted, but sooner or later it would happen. There was no choice. What choice she did have, however, was the same as mankind's... Between now and then, she could choose what she did with her life. How she lived it, with whom she lived it with, and how well it would be lived. And with all that choice, all she knew was one thing: she wanted to know love.

 

 

The girls had talked about it, the boys, too. She wanted to know if it was like in the novels she had read for experience and knowledge, or if it was something else. Was there really an emotion that could conquer everything, know everything, and happen to everyone? Was it something tangible, or only the flutter one felt in their hearts? What was love?

 

 

She was crying now. She didn't wipe them away or even tried to hide it. Tonight, she would hide nothing. She couldn't; it hurt too much.

 

 

She stood, then as gently as she could, climbed onto his bed. She knelt over him, one knee on either side of his waist, then leaned down and laid her head on his chest. She heard his breathing and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. So comforting, so real, so alive... She looked up to his face, still peaceful. She smiled and leaned down close to him.

 

 

“Ichigo,” she whispered into his ear. He stirred, but did awaken. She sighed; stubborn even in his sleep. “Ichigo,” she whispered again, a bit louder. His eyes opened slowly, then blinked and widened. He started to open his mouth, but she placed a finger over it and shushed him. “Ichigo... I...” She took a deep breath. This was harder than she thought it would. “Ichigo, I... I need to know. I need to feel. I... Will you show me?”

 

 

“What?” he murmured, a look of confusion and worry crossing his features. He reached up a hand to her cheek and she knew he felt the tears that were still falling. “Rukia... What's wrong?”

 

 

“I need to feel it, Ichigo. I need to know it, understand it, live it... I want to know. And I want you to show me.”

 

 

“Show you what?”

 

 

“...Love...”

 

 

She watched as his eyes widened. His hand froze on her cheek, so she leaned into it gently. He watched her, and she knew he was wondering what was going on. Here she was, straddling him in the middle of the night, asking him to show her love. He propped himself up with his arm, his other one still stretched out and touching her face.

 

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

 

“I care about you, Ichigo. I want you to show me what it's like to know love, to feel and breathe it. It's too precious a thing to miss, you know? And I don't want to miss anything,” she said.

 

 

They were only a few breaths from each other. She still leant over him, and he had brought them so close when he propped himself up. She was worried he that he would try and rationalize himself out of this or turn her away. He wouldn't intentional hurt her, but if he rejected her now, it would be a pain she didn't she could bear.

 

 

His eyes were unreadable, and her breath caught in her throat. Then he gave her a soft smile so uncharacteristic of him, and moved until he was not even a gasp away. She could feel his breath now, and it stirred her and warmed her.

 

 

“Okay,” he said, then closed the gap.

 

 

His kiss was gentle and welcoming. She was grateful; he knew that she had this kind of contact before. It was so simple, yet it overwhelmed her. He pulled to give her a moment to breathe, then kissed her again. His hand moved from her cheek to her neck, and he guided her down as he leant back onto the bed. He brought his other hand up, and together he buried them both in her hair.

 

 

He continued to kiss her, pausing now and then to catch their breaths. He licked her lips softly and she gasped. He smiled into the kiss and eased his tongue into her mouth. The sensation was beyond anything she had ever felt before. It took a moment, but slowly she began to battle his tongue with her own, further deepening the kiss and the feeling.

 

 

His hands traveled to her shoulders, where he gently pushed her off of him and switched their positions. She was startled, but let it be. She trusted him, and moved her hands to bury into his hair, mimicking what he had done. He continued his work on her mouth. She was truly blown by the feeling, and when she felt his hands ghosting over her body, she shivered and moaned into the kiss. He broke it off and smiled at her, then began kissing her neck and collarbone. She hissed in delight. Her thoughts were broken, but all were focused on the pleasure he was giving her. She felt his hands slither up her sides and settle on her pajama shirt. He paused and looked at her, questioning. Barely able to register it, she nodded, and felt the buttons of her shirt being undone. As soon as the last one was done, he pushed open her shirt. He blinked and gave her a raised eyebrow, but remained smiling. She blushed; it wasn't her fault she couldn't stand those bra things during the day, much less sleep in them.

 

 

She lost her embarrassment when he began kissing her collarbone again, this time traveling down. She watched, dazed, as he began kiss, nip, and lick at her breasts, alternating every moment or so. She was shivering again, her hands still buried in his hair. His hand would knead whichever one he was not attending to, and the alternating back and forth set something flickering deep within her. She didn't know what it was, but it was building and felt as if a fire was growing within her.

 

 

A new sensation washed over her, and she managed to focus to see him suckling her. She gasped and writhed against him, wanting something, something that she didn't know. It was there, though, and she wanted more.

 

 

He stopped and leant up, releasing her hands out of his hair. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a wiry, but strong chest. She collected her thoughts enough to shrug out of her own shirt, pushing it off the bed. He kissed her on the mouth again, and she melted into it. She took the initiative and licked his lips this time, causing him to start for a moment. She grinned at his look of surprise, but noticed that it quickly became one of want. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, understanding what he had felt the first time. It sent a wave of pleasure over her, and she unconsciously writhed her hips up against his. What she felt there caused her to gasp. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. They were unreadable again, but she could not look away. They were half-lidded and watching her. She writhed again, feeling the same thing. He hissed and his eyes widened slightly; but there was no pain there.

 

 

She felt his hand ghost her side and down over her stomach, resting at the waistband of her pants. He gave her that questioning look again, but nudged her pants open anyhow and slipped his inside. She froze and he raised an eyebrow again, but kissed her before she could feel any embarrassment. His hand moved down slowly, until he was literally cupping her. The feeling of want crashed into her with such force that she groaned loudly against his mouth. She writhed her hips against his hand, needing something, not know what, but just needing.

 

 

His hand brushed against her a few times, then a finger moved inside her. She gasped and broke the kiss. She held his face with her hands and instinctively rocked herself against him. The feeling was just so much, and that fire inside of her flared to full force and burned her. She ached and knew that she needed him, needed to feel him...

 

 

“Ichigo...” she breathed. She gasped again as another finger joined in. “Ichigo... please...” He looked at her, half-lidded eyes watching her face contort into pleasure.

 

 

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

 

 

“Yes! Please, Ichigo... I want to feel... I want to know... You...” she said.

 

 

The hand vanished from within her, and she felt a bubble of protest welling up. It died, however, as she watched him place his hands on her waist and begin to slide her pants down. A moment later they were gone and she was bare before him. She blushed, but noticed that the want was now clearly written on his face; there was no doubt he wanted her. He moved off the bed and stood, stripping off his boxers, then laid over her again. He kissed her, a bit more forcefully than usual, and she felt him rubbing against her. The ache increased tenfold, and she whimpered. He pulled back from her and positioned himself. He paused, his eyes unreadable again.

 

 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered to her.

 

 

She didn't get a chance to wonder what he was talking about. He thrusted into her, and she felt something rip inside of her. The pain wasn't unbearable, but it hurt. He whispered apologies and encouragements into her ear as he remained still, and soon the pain dulled. She writhed and moaned at the feeling inside her. He was inside her, filling her, opening her, and that thought alone made the fire burn even more and with more want and need. He pulled out and thrusted back into her, and they both hissed at the feeling. She was more than overwhelmed; she was utterly thrown into bliss and want.

 

 

She gripped his hair again, tightening her hold. She knew it had to hurt, but at the moment was beyond caring. He continued to thrust sharply into her, slowly gaining speed. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. She cried out as he hit something within in her, bringing the fire to burn white hot; he hit it again and she felt something snap. Her mind was gone, thrown into ecstasy, and her body quivered. She tightened impossibly around him, and after another sharp thrust he growled. She felt the fire he released in her, and quivered again.

 

 

He rested on his arms and struggled to catch his breath. She brought a hand down to his cheek and guided him down, kissing him with as much energy as she could muster. He returned it eagerly, then broke it. He pulled out of her and moved to lie beside her. An arm stretched out and pulled her close, then moved again to retrieve his blanket and throw it over them. She snuggled willingly into his chest.

 

 

“Rukia?” he whispered.

 

 

“Hmm?” she managed. She was exhausted and on the verge of sleep now.

 

 

“Does that answer your question?”

 

 

She looked up into his eyes and saw worry there. She knew what he was worried about; whether or not he had given her what she had wanted and needed. She smiled fully, then kissed him gently. She nuzzled him and settled herself against him.

 

 

“Yes,” she said. He tightened his hold on her, bringing her as close as possible.

 

 

She started to drift off, but stopped. She waited and listened, then heard it; his breathing. She smiled to herself and continued to, even after she was far into dreamland.

 

 

 

 

A/N: Well, there you go. First lemon, written all in one sitting. It's 2:23 AM Saturday, and I have to say I'm quite proud of it. *shrugs* I can't help it. Like I said, I didn't give it much back story. I take full blame for that. Other than that, though, how do you think it was? Please be honest, and I don't mind flames.