Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Emotional Experimentation ❯ Experimental Emotions ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

(A/N: Hey guys, sorry you haven't heard from me in such a long time, I've recently been in France—it was an awesome trip!!!—and now, ironically, I'm leaving again to go to the beach, I will have my computer though, so expect some more stuff from me.

This story was created because of a prompt I received from gokusgirl, I hope I fulfilled her expectations of this story and hope that she also enjoys it. ;)

Also, if anyone cares to note, I have updated my profile to include my current email, don't be hesitant to contact me with ideas/comments etc.

I really hope everyone enjoys this fanfiction and I promise, I will update my others soon!

Also, I just saw that a member by the name of CherryOpsicle just gave me 7 reviews of Romeo and Juliet Remix, thank you very much for reading and reviewing. (I also got a pretty good score on my ACT, thanks for your concern!))

 

 

 

Experimental Emotions

 

 

“Man is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed; the only animal that is never satisfied.”

 

Henry George

 

 

Emotions were strange things.

 

Happy, sad, naughty, dangerous, pitiful, angry, loving, shameful, indignant, envious, confused, greedy, wondering, bemused, amused, courageous, timid, repentant, proud, modest, patient, stressed, fearful, appreciative, envious, hopeful, jealous… they were all emotions that made people feel such strange things.

 

You could feel happy and sad, timid and courageous, bemused and confident, jealous and giving, fearful and safe—all at the same time. It was difficult, it was bizarre, and it was downright creepy.

 

As Rukia stood above Ichigo's bed, watching him in his sleep, she contemplated the harsh and complex emotions boiling inside of her. Her violet-grey eyes were softly caressing the top of his head, the orange hair squashed against the pillow that shined so brightly in the noon sun, but glittered in the moonlight, she scanned his features—which were now relaxed and peaceful in sleep. She gazed at his strong nose, his thickly ginger eyebrows framing closed eyes, his forehead that showed none of his trademark scowl, his sturdy jaw, and his perfectly soft lips.

 

When she looked at him like this—so peaceful and serene in the ebony air—she felt… calm, serene, and comforted.

 

These were strange words to a person like Rukia Kuchiki, a person whose life had been nothing but hardship, danger, indignation, shame, fear, stress, and pain. Rukia Kuchiki didn't know emotions like pleasure, reassurance, or tranquility. She had grown up in Rukongai, she had been beaten and scarred as a child, all of her friends had died except for Renji, she had been adopted into a noble family but had become an outcast in both circles—a runt from a dirty district could never be accepted as a princess and a princess could never be accepted as a normal person, she had been placed early into a Squad, she had killed her leader, and she had been assigned—finally—to the real world, where she had lost her powers and given them to some untrained, unkempt, unavoidable boy.

 

And now… well, now, she was stuck in the real world with nothing to occupy her thoughts but her upcoming trial.

 

Rukia snorted softly as she took a step closer to Ichigo. Yeah, she would face a trial, probably before nobles, before Room 41, before the captains, and before all the Shinigami. Hell, she thought bitterly, they might even invite some of her old enemies from Rukongai.

 

Rukia titled her head to the side and thought for a second. Bitterness… that was a new one. Sure she had been angry before, furious even, but not bitter.

 

She needed a notebook to document everything she was feeling.

 

As a Shinigami, she wasn't supposed to feel human emotions. She wasn't supposed to be happy or sad or joyful or frustrated. She was just supposed to be… stoic. She was supposed to do her job and think of nothing else. Nothing. Hollows: dead. Souls: burial. More Hollows: dead. More souls: burials. There was no laughing in her job, no crying… just doing. No complications.

 

Now… well, now there were complications. A complication, to be more exact. Just one. His name was Ichigo Kurosaki.

 

He was a major problem simply because he was making her feel things that she wasn't sure she wanted to feel.

 

The first time she had entered the room—his room—he kicked her on the head, laughed at her drawings, broken her kido spell, taken all of his powers, and killed a Hollow. Rukia raised her hand and ticked off her fingers… let's see… there was anger, annoyance, astonishment, amazement, and even a bit of fear.

 

Five emotions the very first time she met Ichigo. It was a record.

 

Rukia crept forward even more and froze when Ichigo turned on his side, he was facing her now, his head level with her knees, his perfect, amber, glowing eyes closed to the darkness around him. She liked his eyes. Sometimes… most of the time actually… they were framed with a scowl. But at times like this, when he was sleeping and quiet, he was peaceful, content… even beautiful.

 

Rukia cocked an eyebrow and frowned slightly, her brows mimicking Ichigo's. She had never considered a man “beautiful” before. Her brother was dashing, Renji was funny looking—what with all his tattoos and spiked hair, etc… even people like Yumichika weren't all that appealing to her.

 

No… pretty boys weren't good for anything. The cocky ones—like Renji—didn't make her feel special. The dashing ones—Nii-sama—didn't even like to talk to people. But Ichigo… Ichigo was different. He was so different from the others.

 

He was brave, loyal, fearless, determined, annoying, and even kind.

 

Sometimes.

 

Rukia took the final step towards his bed and knelt down slowly onto her knees. She was close to him now, exceedingly close. If she leaned forward just a bit she could feel his breath on her face. It was a startling new sensation. She had never been so close to a man/boy/person before. Granted, she and Renji had had to share blankets when they were younger to avoid the cold, but that didn't count.

 

She leaned forward and lightly touched her nose to his. His skin was soft as silk. Was a man supposed to feel this soft?

 

She wondered what he would do if he knew that she was here, right now, watching him as he slept. Would he curse at her and shove her back in the closet, or maybe even throw her out the window? Would he simply smile at her and go back to sleep? Would he think she was a dream and just dismiss her?

 

Or…

 

Or would he smile at her, his eyes still drowsy from sleep, reach for her arm, and pull her into his bed? Would he curl his arms around her and hold her close, like she was the most precious thing in the universe?

 

She rubbed her nose fractionally up and down, his skin against hers. He moved slightly in his sleep, his clothes bunching against the sheets. Rukia looked down and saw some of his stomach exposed. She felt a strange heat rush into her stomach and her face. Quickly, she took her nose away from his and inclined her head towards the exposed patch of his skin.

 

His abdomen. It was that par of him that was exposed to her. She glanced down and gulped slightly; the heat in her stomach increased and her ears began to burn. She blinked slowly and saw a thin trail of orange hair begin near the center of his chest and trail down… down… down… until the thin stretch of hair disappeared into his boxers.

 

Rukia stared at that small extension of hair and felt mesmerized by it. Slowly, with her hand shaking, she reached her fingers forward. They crossed the small extension of still air and stopped mere centimeters from the silky hairs on his stomach. She paused. For some reason… some reason… her hand was shaking.

 

She wanted… wanted to touch it. Very badly.

 

Rukia's middle finger, the longest one, touched a single, silken, strand.

 

The earth moved.

 

A single strand of a man's/boy's/thing's hair on his body and she felt the floorboards disappearing from underneath her feet, the air shake around her, and the moon outside the window vibrate in the sky.

 

Not to mention Ichigo also moved, his eyes fluttered slightly and he shifted again, this time closer to her. Rukia's hand recoiled and her body launched backwards into a strange version of the crabwalk. Insistently, she scuttled backwards and hid in the shadows. Her eyes burned into Ichigo's sleeping form as he groaned slightly and pulled his blankets further up his chest—covering the small trail of hair on his stomach. Rukia felt her face fall slightly and wondered why she was feeling this way. It wasn't anything special, was it? Just these feelings… they were beginning to bother her.

 

Rukia swallowed dryly and sighed. She really didn't like this. All of these feelings and emotions plaguing her insides. She felt like a jumbled heap of—of—hell, she didn't even know what she felt like.

 

There was something else though, something that she felt growing inside of her. It scared her somewhat, but more than that it was… overpowering. She felt it growing each day, inside of her, usually deep within her belly; it made her feel excited and jittery and terrified and…

 

Sensual?

 

She had never felt sensual before. No man had ever made her feel like she was an actual woman before.

 

Yes, Rukia reminded herself, yes, I am a woman.

 

A woman.

 

Never before had she felt like one. When she was a child she was a tomboyish girl, when she was a student she was an outcast, when she was a noble she was an inferior, when she was in a Squad she was an underling, and… and… now she was here, with Ichigo.

 

Ichigo… who made her feel like an actual person, a blushing girl, and a sensual woman.

 

Rukia blinked slowly and raised her fingers to her lips, she moistened them with her tongue and felt the slick, pink, muscle with her finger.

 

She wondered, wondered so often, if he would show her… everything.

 

Everything a woman should know, everything a blushing girl should experience, everything an actual person would need to understand.

 

Rukia lifted her head and stared at Ichigo's prostrate form, lying peacefully on the bed.

 

She knew now what it was that she was feeling curling inside of her belly when she looked at him. It was something she had never experienced before. It was so new… it was an anomaly.

 

Desire.

 

Rukia swallowed thickly and moved towards the closet. Her fingers were shaking and her limbs felt strange, there was also a queer, wet feeling between her legs. It was making her panties damp and her stomach heat.

 

She settled into her space in the closet and stared blankly into the darkness. The throbbing inside of her legs wasn't going away. She closed her eyes and settled down in the covers. Behind her fastened lids the only thing she could see was Ichigo, his peaceful face, and his beautiful features.

 

The throbbing was back.

 

Rukia continued to think about him. The throbbing grew more insistent. She groaned helplessly and shifted.

 

This, she thought disgruntled, this is desire.

 

It was frustrating. Rukia snarled and turned on her side. She had read about desire in many manga books. The boys and girls in such books acted on their feelings. She had seen many images of people in such compromising positions, forbidden places being teased, sucked, or pulled. Rukia licked her dry lips and thought about those images. When she had it perfectly formed inside of her mind she imagined the boy had flaming orange hair, mussed from their exertions. The girl had midnight black locks, with the boys fingers tangled in them. The boy had amber eyes glazed with heat. The girl had violet-grey eyes that were squeezed shut in passion. They both had sweating bodies clinging to each other in desperation.

 

Rukia moaned as she felt the heat inside of her catapult and make her insides quiver. She buried her sweating face in the pillows and wiped the salty droplets from her neck.

 

Desire.

 

She wanted Ichigo. In the short time that she had been here, with him, on this mortal surface, she had grown so close to him that she had begun to want him. No, this had not started slowly. This was full blown. This was… was… instantaneous, sudden, this was now.

 

Rukia curled into herself on the bed and sat back against the wall.

 

She wanted to know. She needed to know what this desire felt like. Think of it, she told herself calmly, as an experiment into the body of a human. So many emotions could be felt at a single time in the act of love. Not to mention… if her desire was this strong, it shouldn't be that hard to convince Ichigo to participate in her little experiment.

 

Rukia smiled in her sleep and turned her face into the pillow. Yes… it shouldn't be too hard.

 

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Ichigo woke up the next morning to a rustling sound near his sleeping body. Drowsily, he turned on his side and glanced at the clock. The annoying device blinked 6:23. He growled and turned to look at the obstruction in the center of his floor, the one that had woken him up, and the one he was going to yell at until he was hoarse.

 

“Kon,” he mumbled angrily, “You stupid ass, stop moving around.”

 

He opened a bleary eye and his words were immediately stopped inside of his throat.

 

Her hands were slowly unbuttoning the simple buttons in the front of Yuzu's borrowed pajamas. They went inch by inch, her fingers touching the plastic buttons and occasionally brushing against her skin. She didn't notice him looking at her, but he sure as hell noticed her.

 

She slipped the top off and let it fall to the floor. Ichigo's eyes widened as he stilled on the bed. He felt like a terrified deer trapped in the shine of an eighteen wheeler's headlights.

 

She was facing away from him—obviously or she would be beating him for staring at her like that—but he could still see the planes of her back, her delicate shoulder bones, the curve at the nape of her neck, the way her hair curled and tickled the tips of her shoulders, the delicate dip of her hips, and the softness of her skin as it disappeared into the top of her pajama bottoms.

 

Ichigo swallowed thickly but silently. He watched as she moved slowly over to his desk chair and picked up a silken bra. His breath caught and there was a sharp shooting of heat down into the nether regions of his body. He caught sight of the delicate curve of her small but perfect breast as she reached her hands and slipped the straps onto her shoulders. Her arms reached back and clipped the inferior garment onto her chest. Ichigo almost whined at the loss.

 

Once the clip was on she pulled on her uniform shirt and began to fasten it. Her hands worked in unison as the cotton slid over her body and became securely placed. When she was finished her hands went to her hips and began to slip the silky bottoms off.

 

Ichigo's throat felt like it might close completely as he watched the supple curves of her perfect bottom exposed to him. A thin pair of white underwear was blocking the rest of his view but other than that he could see everything. Her strong and tiny thighs, her beautiful calves, her poised ankles, and her fragile toes.

 

The orange checkered pants fell from her hips and pooled at her feet. She moved once again to his desk chair and pulled her skirt over her small hips. She moved her fingers to the side and zipped it up. She hooked the final clasp and finished by smoothing out the folds in her skirt.

 

She gave her hair a little shake and moved towards the door.

 

Ichigo's eyes widened. Why was she going towards the door? What about his family? He didn't know if any of them were up this early but it wouldn't help if any of them saw a strange girl floating around the house. But more importantly, what the hell was she doing? Did she think he wouldn't wake up? Ichigo's face burned, had she been doing this the whole time she was here? Why hadn't he noticed before?

 

His throat constricted and he was about to speak when she bent down, gracing him with another view of her perfectly formed bottom and toned legs.

 

She reached down and picked up her school bag. Leisurely, she retrieved the pack and turned away from the door. Ichigo's eyes immediately shut, his body going into rigor. He tried to breathe normally but images of her naked—or almost naked really—form was plaguing his mind.

 

Without saying a word, she was out the window and Ichigo was left, lying in bed, a painfully throbbing erection between his legs.

 

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School that day was a torment.

 

An absolute torment.

 

Ichigo sat beside Rukia the entire day and not once was he able to look at her without picturing her naked, or in some form of undress, or beneath him, squealing and gasping in pleasure.

 

He would find himself, at odd times of the day, staring at her while she scratched an itch on her leg, or as she brushed a strand of hair away from her face, or even as she periodically checked her cell phone for reports.

 

The worst part about the entire thing was that she hadn't even looked at him.

 

Usually by this time of day he would have gotten sneers, jeers, jabs, and snickers from her. But now there was nothing, just cold and stony silence. It was freaking him out. For the fiftieth time that day, he glanced over at Rukia and saw her scratching an itch on her collarbone. Mesmerized, his hand followed hers and watched as it went down and down and down until it was stopped by a simple button, unable to go any further due to the obstruction of cloth.

 

It was driving Ichigo nuts, if only her hands would go a bit lower, cup her perfectly small breast, tweak her nipple, make her moan, then he could take care of the rest. He would bend her over a desk and take her so many ways he wouldn't be able to—

 

Holy fuck! Ichigo thought instantly as he felt the front of his khaki pants pressing against his erection. What the hell? Why was I envisioning her like that? She's—she's—she's Rukia for Kami's sake!

 

Rukia, his Shinigami mentor and teacher, the one who had given him all of her powers at the expense of her own. The girl who was showing him how to become stronger. The stranger who was living in his closet.

 

That makes it convenient.

 

Ichigo almost yelled out loud. To think he was having daydreams about her—Rukia of all people! And only after seeing her half-naked once! What was wrong with him? Was he some sort of closet pervert? Really, if he was going to have dreams about girls, shouldn't it be about girls who were actually alive and wouldn't be leaving whenever their orders changed? Like Orihime or Tatsuki… or…

 

Ichigo shuddered at the idea. Tatsuki had been his friend since childhood and had absolutely no sex appeal to him whatsoever. Then there was Orihime, who dreamed of becoming a giant robot and was so flighty that birds looked grounded in comparison.

 

They were no competition to a person like Rukia Kuchiki. Hell, the first time he saw her she was swinging her sword through the skull of a Hollow, then after that she had kicked him, bound him, and stabbed him.

 

How many other women would have done that in a singular meeting?

 

Ichigo knew of none. He looked over at Rukia and saw her scratch the same patch of skin. This time, a red mark had appeared and the pads of her fingers soon stopped to delicately massage the area.

 

His throat was dry and his lips felt like a desert.

 

No, he thought sternly, just no.

 

No to Rukia. No to her beautiful breasts and her silken skin. No to her coy smiles and her dark hair. No to her sultry laugh and her guiding touches. No to her stupid reprimands and blood boiling instructions. No to everything that made her so irresistible to him.

 

Ichigo's eyes caught on Rukia's leg once again and he felt the now familiar hardness encroach to his lower regions.

 

He quickly looked away and tried to focus on his class work.

 

Beside him, Rukia's flickering gaze landed on Ichigo. She smiled as she saw his flustered face and twitching legs. She glanced at his curved bottom, sitting uncomfortably in the chair and then looked over to his crotch. Her mouth quirked up into a small smile as she saw a slight bulge in the front of his pants.

 

Her small smile turned up a notch and she looked blankly at the sheet on her desk. This was going to be interesting.

 

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Ichigo didn't know how he made it through the next three days of school.

 

Each morning he lay in his bed and watched as Rukia stood before him and did her reverse striptease. A few times she would lean a little to the side and he would get a glimpse of her creamy breast and pink nipple. Once he even caught himself leaning over to try and catch a glimpse.

 

Once she was finished however, and she bent down gracefully to pick up her bag and leaped out the window, that was the most frustrating part of the day. Once she was gone his groin ached with forbidden desires and his mind kept replaying the deceitful images of her inside of his head.

 

Only once had he actually followed through on his desires. As soon as she was out the window he had gone into the bathroom and finished the job Rukia had unknowingly started. He tugged and played with himself until he was able to reach a release. Images of Rukia played through his head the entire time.

 

He wanted her. Kami he wanted her so badly it hurt every time he thought about her.

 

Even when she was training him it was torture. Once she stood behind him and showed him the correct stance to use when fighting a Hollow that was smaller than him. He had felt her soft breasts press against his back and her warm hands wrap around his waist, circling his arms until it was all he could do to control the stiffness in his crotch.

 

Other times she would direct him around Karakura Town and she would ride onto his back. He would feel her legs clamp onto his sides and her knees dig into his ribs. It made him wonder if she would be like this when they made love, with him in the front, riding her, taking her, teasing her, making her scream.

 

Wait, his brain screamed as he tossed in his bed, it was 6:13, Friday, and he was anxiously waiting for Rukia to begin. When? When! When did you start thinking about `when'?

 

The minutes on the clock ticked by and he lay stiff in his bed. Stiff, because, well, more than one part of him was stiff. He was already hard due to his over-active imagination.

 

Only a few minutes later, earlier than usual, she pulled back the partition in the closet and slowly, sultrily, stepped down from the small and enclosed space.

 

Ichigo shut his eyes instantly until he heard her stop in the center of his floor. It was only then that he peeked his amber irises out of their restricting lids and watched as she began to unbutton her top.

 

She dropped it to the ground and Ichigo stopped to gaze at her luscious body. It was his treat, his right even, to be able to watch her now. After all, he wouldn't do anything else, why shouldn't he look?

 

“Ichigo.”

 

His eyes squeezed shut and his heart began to race. He wasn't sure if his body tensed visibly or not but the way he was feeling right now it felt like his bones would break in half.

 

Frantically, he tried to mumble and toss about in his sleep like a regular person would but it didn't help. She was turned around now; her eyes were boring into his—even though he was frantically trying to keep them closed. He could feel his beating heart and even hear it, he wondered if she could hear it too.

 

“Ichigo…” she whispered again. “I know you're awake. Open your eyes.”

 

He didn't do anything. Rukia wasn't stupid, but maybe if he didn't move, she would think he was really asleep.

 

He heard the floorboards creak slightly. Kami, she was walking towards him. She was coming closer and closer. He could even feel the heat radiating from her body.

 

He heard a gentle tapping on the ground and felt a gentle fluttering across his face. He began to sweat and wondered if she could feel the tiny droplets.

 

“No…” she whispered softly, “You don't frown when you sleep.” He felt a warm and gentle sensation on his forehead. His body shivered and he had to fight to keep his eyes shut tight. Her lips touched his forehead and she chuckled softly, her breath lightly playing on his face. “You're awake, I can tell. You're sweating, and you're excited, and you want to open your eyes to see my body.”

 

Ichigo's eyes snapped open and he instantly saw her beautiful face, directly before him. Her violet-grey eyes were a liquid black in the darkness of the early morning. His breath was short and a droplet of sweat trickled down his face, resting on the bridge of his nose. He gulped softly and hoarsely whispered her name.

 

She smiled and leaned forward just a bit more. Her tongue flicked out and caught the tiny bead with the tip. Ichigo gasped and jerked his head back, his breath puffed out in small pants and she smiled at his reaction.

 

“Wh-What are you doing, R-Rukia?” He whispered, slightly panicked by her bold motions.

 

“What do you think I'm doing Ichigo?” She whispered as she shifted a bit and moved so her breasts were resting on the edge of his bed. Ichigo swallowed thickly and remembered that she wasn't wearing a shirt. Every fiber in his body told him to reach for those perfect breasts, but his hands wouldn't move.

 

Her eyes were watching his. She saw their slow progression to her breasts and she smirked happily at his inspection. She wondered if he liked girls with smaller breasts. After all, he had had years to make a move on Orihime Inoue, maybe she just wasn't his type.

 

Rukia sighed and thanked Kami that this gigai was an actual replication of her real body, because she wasn't all that well endowed anyway.

 

“Well?” She asked again, drawing his attention back to her face, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape. “What do you think I'm doing?”

 

Ichigo swallowed once again and this time he was sure she could hear his gulp of panic. She reached her hand out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from his face. She smiled softly and blew a bit of air against his face.

 

“I-I-I t-think you're… you… I-I d-don't know.” He stammered as her fingers played over his face. His hands were clenching the sheet beneath him and he was gasping in disbelief of her actions.

 

Rukia tilted her head to the side and blinked slowly. “Really?” She asked softly, “Are you sure?”

 

“Y-Yes.” Ichigo mumbled.

 

Rukia's hands began to trace his thick eyebrows and twinkle over his eyelashes. She sighed softly and kissed the tip of his nose, “Emotions are strange things, aren't they?”

 

Ichigo didn't answer, what was she talking about? Emotions? Why was she talking about emotions?

 

“As a Shinigami,” she continued, “You're not supposed to have emotions. Kill that thing, destroy that one, slash, stroke, hack, rip, and gut those. You do nothing but your job, emotions are not supposed to get in the way.”

 

Ichigo was staring into her eyes now, he felt like he was drowning. One of her hands, her precious little fingers, was gripping his own digits. Slowly, leisurely, and carefully, she drew his hand down to her breast, the sight he had long since memorized he was now touching. His palm cupped the tender flesh and she moaned quietly. Emboldened by her throaty sounds he ran his thumb over her soft nipple and watched in fascination as it hardened beneath his touch.

 

“You,” Rukia gasped, it was getting harder to speak with his hand moving like that. “You make me feel emotions I've never felt before.” She said, taking her time, folding each word around her tongue and tasting its sweetness in her mouth before letting each one roll out.

 

Ichigo's eyes were intently staring at her breasts; his second hand was coming towards it, cupping it, teasing it, just like he had dreamed of doing for the past few days. She smiled at the touches and caresses and murmured. “I want to continue feeling this.”

 

Ichigo finally spoke, “Feeling what?”

 

“Desire,” she answered, “I want to feel desire and I want to be desired.”

 

Ichigo tweaked her nipples in his fingers and breathed softly, the air twisting gently against the tiny nub. Rukia was mewling and he could feel the fire growing inside the pit of his stomach.

 

He wanted her. He wanted her. He wanted her.

 

He couldn't have her.

 

“No,” he said softly as his hands were removed from her beautiful breasts. Rukia whimpered slightly at the feeling of his withdraw. Her eyes opened softly and she blinked inquiringly at him. Why was he doing this? Was he refusing her? She had seen how he was looking at her during school. She had seen him in the mornings before she leaped out the window. She knew he became hard when he watched her. She also knew that he relieved that pressure by teasing himself to completion. Why was stopping her now?

 

“I-I can't,” he stuttered softly as his fingers itched to return to her breasts and his eyes tried to shy away from hers. “We ca-can't.”

 

Rukia's fingertips began to flutter over the planes of his face. “Why not?” She asked softly, her breath was puffing over his face, warming the skin that was damp with sweat. “Why not?” She repeated, her voice growing quieter and quieter as her lips moved nearer and nearer to his.

 

Ichigo looked terrified and yet Rukia had remained completely cool. Her face wasn't doused in a sheet of sweat and her fingers weren't trembling. Ichigo was clutching the sheets in an effort to stop from launching himself at Rukia, throwing her to the ground, and taking her in so many different ways and positions they wouldn't be able to walk for a solid month.

 

“B-Because you're—” You're a Shinigami, you're my friend, you're my mentor, you're going to go away when your orders change, because you're special, because you're not like the rest of them, because you're—“Rukia.”

 

Her lips, which looked as soft as the down of a swan, were curling into a small and delicious smile. The peripheries were quirked into razor like edges and Ichigo immediately wanted to touch them with his tongue. Delicately, one of her hands left his face and smoothed down his body. Ichigo was almost thankful he had worn a beater to bed and couldn't feel her fingers pattering against his chest. His eyes locked onto hers as she stopped at the top of his boxers. His eyes widened as she smirked—yes, smirked—and dropped her hand lower until she was cupping his stiff erection.

 

Ichigo gasped and felt his knees buckle, even though—to his knowledge—he wasn't standing up. His lungs constricted inside of his chest. He hadn't breathed since she had begun to stroke him. His body was tightening until he felt like he would snap himself in half.

 

Finally, when the pressure in his chest became too much, he opened his mouth to suck in a large quantity of air. Only instead of air coming into his mouth, it was Rukia's tongue. Her lips slid against his and he shuddered as she teased the inside of his mouth. Almost unwillingly, Ichigo moved his lips against hers. She breathed in hungrily and sucked his essence into her being.

 

Her hand continued to stroke his erection and her other moved to the back of his head where she gripped his orange locks and crushed his mouth against hers. Desperately she clawed his lips against hers. Within a moment, he surged back; he sucked possessively on her tongue and felt his erection harden even more. Her stroking hand and her dangerous kiss were driving him crazy. He wanted to pick her up, press her to his body, and complete the job her hand was quickly bringing to an end.

 

His hands, currently clutching the sheets, let go of the now damp cloth and planted themselves on her shoulders. Her mouth was still working on his and her hand was still toying with erection. Ichigo knew he had two choices: either take her shoulders and pull her closer to him so he could finish everything he wanted finished, or push her away and continue to live his life in abject misery.

 

He pushed her away.

 

Rukia's gaze was hazy and hungry and he knew that she was wet in the special place between her legs. She blinked her eyes in slight confusion before lowering her lids slightly and smiling faintly. She brought her tongue out and licked her lips. Ichigo's breathing faltered some as he watched her expression. She looked like a cat hungering for more cream.

 

Ichigo groaned as he felt her hand leave his erection. He didn't want it to leave. Kami, he wanted her hand back and stroking him until he was ready to release. Better yet, he wanted his engorged shaft inside of her tight heat, his body heaving against hers. He wanted to satisfy her curiosity about desire so thoroughly that she would want the question answered over and over and over again.

 

Rukia nodded her head and whispered against his face. “I understand, Ichigo.” She licked the tip of his nose, “Don't worry. I'll be patient.”

 

With that, she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and stood. He saw her lithe body as she moved upwards and turned so she could dress. Ichigo closed his eyes softly and turned away, half of him wanted her to stay, the other half wanted her to go so he could finish what she started.

 

She bent down to pick up her bag and turned slowly towards him. She smiled softly and nodded. “I'll face forward next time.” She said quietly.

 

Ichigo gulped and knew that she heard it. She winked coyly and moved to the window. Deftly, she leaped out and left the small curtain fluttering in the breeze.

 

Ichigo swallowed again and pressed his sweat-covered brow into the pillow.

 

He was doomed.

 

~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~ ~-~-~~-~-~

 

It was Thursday when Rukia had kissed him until his senses burned. School had once again been a horrid affair. He sat in class all day thinking about her, his body constantly going through sweeps of cold sweat and pangs of burning desire. During English, as they read Shakespeare aloud he could not help thinking of himself as Romeo and her as Juliet.

 

Not as tragic, of course, but spending the night together all the same.

 

He almost dreaded the coming morning when he knew she would dress herself before him, only facing forward instead of back wards.

 

Chad noticed his strange behavior and thought it was a mere case of test jitters. Asano and Keigo also saw how the back of his shirt was damp and he kept fidgeting throughout the day. Asano simply told him it would pass, looking directly from him to Rukia—who was simply staring out the window at some unseen creatures on the ground. The sunlight was hitting her perfectly and the light breeze from the open window was tickling her hair. Not one moment went by when Ichigo didn't think of running his fingers through it. Keigo was more dramatic, he began spouting off stories about Ichigo having a horrible disease and how it would spread like the bubonic plague and kill them all. Asano wittily replied that the disease Ichigo was suffering from was larger than the black plague had ever been. He winked at Ichigo and then walked off.

 

Ichigo remained at his desk, ignoring the excited Keigo and gazing continually at Rukia. She must have noticed his stare because she turned her eyes to his and winked gently. Her neck craned back and she ran her fingers over her pulse. Ichigo shuddered and felt his need pressing against his pants once again. He wanted to taste her skin.

 

When school was over Rukia disappeared; Ichigo last saw her at the gates near the front of school. She had caught his eye and smiled coyly before disappearing into the street. Ichigo went home and tried to finish—or at least do some of—his homework. He found it impossible to concentrate, that much he figured out after attempting the same math problem thirteen times.

 

Afterwards he simply collapsed on his bed, his earphones plugged directly into his ears. He listened to the harshest, loudest, and worst music he owned; anything—anything to get his mind off of Rukia Kuchiki.

 

It, or course, was a failure. She permeated his thoughts and filled his brain until he could picture his lower body gyrating against hers, their motions swaying in time with the horrid music. He shuddered as his fading erection came back to life.

 

He smiled softly and looked towards the window. Half-hoping she would pop through the window and pounce in order to ravish him.

 

He would do his part, of course.

 

At dinner he was snappish and irritated. Yuzu tried to get him to talk about his obviously irate feelings, Isshin tried to punch him into happiness, and Karin just ignored him. Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was go back to his bed and wait for Rukia to come through the window.

 

~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~ ~-~-~~-~-~

 

Rukia Kuchiki was sitting on the roof above the window that led to Ichigo Kurosaki's room. The moon was rising and by the looks of things, it seemed to be around eleven thirty. She knew Ichigo would be up… waiting for her.

 

She smiled into the tiny breeze that ruffled the edges of her skirt. She drew her knees up and closed her eyes so she might smell the lovely night air.

 

Tonight.

 

Tonight she wanted to complete the “experiment” tonight.

 

~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~ ~-~-~~-~-~

 

A shadow appeared on the open window not a moment after Ichigo had climbed into bed. He saw her small form as her feet touched the ground and her hair shook in the nighttime breeze.

 

She didn't say anything, merely made straight for her closet—his closet, the back of his mind told him—and dug inside. He made no sound as she pulled out the delightful pair of stolen pajamas and she made no mention of his presence, did she see him? Was he too enshrouded in darkness to be noticed?

 

No, he told himself, no… she sees you. This is just part of her game.

 

Her… experiment.

 

Ichigo thought of going to her at that moment, revealing himself, coming to her, ripping off her clothes, carrying her to his bed, and taking her fourteen different ways until she was almost dead from exhaustion, then when the sun rose in the morning he would confine her to the bed and take her until she would sleep in bliss for years to come.

 

Rukia grasped the pajamas and stood in a rigid pose in the center of his room, her body was only a few feet from his bed.

 

Ichigo watched, his breath caught deep in his lungs as she stood, immobile.

 

Slowly, inch by inch, she pivoted until she was facing him. Ichigo's eyes widened as she dropped the pajamas to the floor and smiled softly at him.

 

Ichigo's sharp breath echoed throughout the room as Rukia took two steps closer to him. His throat was quivering in a desperate attempt to regulate simple respiratory functions. With quivering limbs he rose onto his elbow and then rested his back against the wall. Her smile widened and she raised one of her small eyebrows. “Are you ready, Ichigo?”

 

Ichigo swallowed, “What are you going to do?” His voice sounded breathless and husky. Rukia chuckled slightly at the sound and relished the small blush staining Ichigo's cheeks.

 

“Well,” she murmured, being careful not to let her voice carry any further, lest his family wake up. “I need to get dressed for bed, don't I?”

 

Ichigo's heart thudded in his chest and he shook his head; his brain was screaming that she might not get the chance to dress for bed before he jumped her.

 

Her hands made their way slowly to the edges of her shirt. Delicately, she pulled the cotton fabric above her head and tossed it aside. Ichigo felt his delayed erection return with full force and he groaned slightly at the feeling. He could see her mulberry nipples through the thin silk lace of her bra. The depressions in her sides led to luscious hips. Ichigo whined softly and practically begged her to take the stupid school skirt off.

 

She smiled at the soft sound made in his throat and reached down to cup her breasts in her palms. She inched forward a bit more and stepped into the moonlight spilling from the window. He could see the platinum light as it shined on her lovely hands, they were tweaking her nipples and making her moan softly.

 

A hot blush ran up Ichigo's face and he leaned forward. He wanted to be the one who would make her moan.

 

Her hands dropped from her hardened nipples and reached to the back of her skirt. She unhooked the clasp and allowed the garment to escape the dip of her hips and pool onto the floor. Ichigo felt his throat stop working as her creamy legs, curvaceous calves, and tiny ankles were exposed to him. His eyes made a smooth movement upwards and his gaze kissed every inch of her skin.

 

Rukia almost blushed under his intense scrutiny and noticed how his lower body was gyrating slowly against the blankets. She saw his eyes were gazing at the apex of her thighs, where a small scrap of white cotton was hiding her potent sex. She knew that he could see her small scrap of black curls through the translucent fabric. She also knew that he was hurting from the desire he felt for her. She wanted to help him alleviate his desire, just as much as she wanted him to relieve hers.

 

She inched forward again until she was standing just outside of his arms reach. One of her hands was splayed against her stomach, teasing the fine hairs and occasionally dipping inside of her bellybutton, the other was toying with the edge of her panties. Ichigo was being driven insane by her suggestive fingers.

 

Rukia blinked slowly, her catlike gaze returning. Her smile remained on her face and she whispered, “Do you want me, Ichigo?”

 

“Yes.” He answered immediately, his voice was hoarse and his aura was exuding hungry, sexual, vibrations.

 

She inched forward just a bit more, still outside of his reach, but close enough so he could feel the heat emanating from her ripe body.

 

“You're not fighting it anymore?” She asked softly.

 

“No,” was his instantaneous reply. He was leaning forward on the bed, his body still pulsating against the sheets beneath him. He wanted to reach for her. He wanted to reach for her so badly.

 

Ichigo reached his arms out and Rukia took another step forward. His hands grasped her hips and yanked him forward until her stomach was pressing against his face. He breathed in deeply and smelled her delicate and enticing scent of cherry blossoms and clean, cool, water.

 

Rukia let out a sigh of contentment as Ichigo's hot mouth opened over her bare stomach and his tongue flicked out to create deliciously heated circles. Rukia's head fell back as he suckled on her skin and bit her lightly. She moaned softly and raised her hands to the back of his head, his hair was soft between her fingers and she tugged harshly until his entire face was pressing against her stomach. It was the place where all the heat was beginning to pour.

 

“I-Ichigo,” she moaned contentedly as she flexed her fingers against his scalp.

 

His mouth slid lower on her body and delved into the tiny hole of her bellybutton. She felt her knees weakening at the sensation and pressed his face harder against her. The desire was continuing to pool into the pit of her belly and she felt the wetness growing between her legs. She wanted him. She wanted him to touch her and taste her and bring her to the brink of pleasure. She wanted him to bring her to that edge than shove her off so forcefully she would be spinning in delicious cartwheels for eternity.

 

Ichigo's hands reached for the tops of her panties and yanked them down hard. Rukia gasped at the light sound of the tearing and felt a small smile creep into the outer edges of her lips. He was certainly getting to the point.

 

His hands, which were currently caressing her hips, encircled her buttocks and yanked her forward. She chuckled lightly at his motions but moaned when she noticed his intention. Her core was now pressed directly against his erection—which was still encased in the soft cotton of his boxers. Rukia's chest was pressed against his and her eyes were now level with his chin. His breathing was as harsh as hers—if not harsher—and his body language clearly spelled what he wanted.

 

His hands were making roads of fire across her body as his lips descended upon hers and he pressed a passionate and devouring kiss upon her. His hips were pushing into hers, grating against her most sensitive area until she could feel herself dripping in hurried desires.

 

He reached up the planes of her back but didn't loosen the powerful hold he had on her lips. His tongue delved into the velveteen folds of her mouth and licked the outsides of her lips until he had tasted every part of her. Helpless minutes spun by and Ichigo finally released her from the luscious prison of his kiss. He kissed the hollow in her neck and the lobe of her ear. Rukia's neck craned backwards and growled softly as he placed butterfly kisses across her face and neck. He felt the vibrations in her throat and immediately bit down on her skin in the center of her milky column.

 

Her breath began to come in short gasps as his hands grasped the clip of her bra and pulled the flimsy clasp apart. The small hook shattered instantaneously and she moaned as he yanked the lacy straps down her arms, the cups were slid off of her breasts, leaving them exposed to the cold night air as well as the heat of Ichigo's stare. She heaved a deep breath and watched Ichigo as his eyes latched onto her breasts, staring in abject fascination as they rose and fell in the steady course of her breathing.

 

Rukia saw no hesitation in his face as he dipped his head low and craned his neck so far down that she could see the delicate hairs on the nape. His mouth opened wetly and he took a distended nipple far into his mouth. Rukia's startled gasp turned into a heavenly moan as his tongue swirled around her tiny pink appendage and his lips massaged her pale mound.

 

Her fingers tightened in his scalp and brought his face closer to her chest, making sure his supple mouth took in as much of her breast as he could.

 

Ichigo was muttering against her breast. Was he saying her name? Chanting it, perhaps, like a mantra to alleviate the volcanic pressure building inside of her? He was still pushing into her, his throbbing cock separated by a mere scrap of fabric from entering the sweet, heavenly reward of her molten abyss.

 

Rukia moaned as his searching mouth switched to her neglected breast as his hands massaged the knot between her shoulders and groped the tightness of her rounded bottom. Rukia's own hands were kneading at his shoulders and digging into the elastic waistband of his flimsy boxers.

 

Ichigo's searching fingers curved over the fissure in her backside and searched lower. Rukia was astonished at the bold actions his hands were making but enjoyed them nonetheless. She squirmed as the digits felt for tendrils of her curling black hair and—once found—continued on their quest. It was as if his fingers were searching for gold, or a treasure she knew nothing of.

 

Ichigo's hand was now wrapped completely between her legs until they were near the very front of her sex.

 

Then his fingers, his ever inquisitorial fingers, pressed up against a small bundle of nerves located at the very summit of her glistening mound. Rukia's gasp shuddered out of her and she could feel her throat constricting under the intense weight of the sensations she was experiencing. Ichigo noticed her reaction and instantly smirked; his lips conquered hers after he released her breast and searched hungrily for her mouth. His fingers continued their tireless work on her sex. He would flick her nerves with a single finger and then penetrate her with another. His ministrations caused her to buck against his hardworking hand. Rukia was moving above him, creating the additional friction that was causing her insides to self destruct.

 

Ichigo kissed her forcefully as his arm wrapped tighter around her and he inserted one… two… three fingers inside of her. With increasing purpose he began to push them in and out of her until Rukia wretched her head away from Ichigo's persistent tongue and cried silently into the night.

 

Rukia's hips didn't stop moving as Ichigo removed his fingers from inside of her and unwrapped his arm from around her waist. He tickled her back momentarily before retracting his elbow and bringing his damp digits to his lips. Rukia watched in fascination as he wet his lips with his index finger and then placed each individual appendage inside of his mouth. He licked each one of them completely clean before licking his own lips.

 

Rukia's breathing was harsh as she pulsed above him, her eyes following every movement he made with his over-competent tongue.

 

It retreated back into his mouth and the two simply sat, awaiting the next move. Rukia swallowed hard—her throat still wasn't working properly—as she became aware of each one of Ichigo's movements. A lock of his hair fell into his eyes and he shook it away. The muscle in his left shoulder twitched and he ignored it. The erection in his boxers stiffened even more and he brought it against her dripping core.

 

Rukia blinked slowly, her body slowly winding down from its effervescent high. She looked up at Ichigo, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were bright. His lips were red and his brow relaxed. Never had she wanted him more than she wanted him right now.

 

Leisurely, her grip tightened around the waistband of his trousers and she pulled them down. He was sitting on the sheets of his bed, Rukia realized once her first attempt had failed, her mouth formed a delicate pout and she looked into Ichigo's eyes: half pleading, half demanding. A quirky smile formed on the edges of his lips and he braced himself on the edges of the bed. Rukia realized the opportunity he provided her and quickly made the most of it. Her hands met with his boxers and she ripped them off his perfectly toned legs. So much fighting had done him good, she realized with appreciation as she ran her palms over the hard muscle of his thighs. Her hands ran along the smooth skin, the baby-fine hairs tickling her delightfully. In mere moments she was making throaty sounds she wasn't used to hearing. Rukia smiled softly and reveled in the way he could make her sound: panting one moment, crying the next. It was just as wonderful as how he could make her feel: needy one moment, satisfied the next.

 

Rukia was running her palms over Ichigo's hardened chest and muscular pectorals when his hands appeared and gripped her wrists.

 

“Later,” he murmured before placing her hands on his shoulders and lifting her up ever so slightly.

 

Rukia nodded in comprehension and gulped as she felt her knees quake. They were beginning to weaken in anticipation.

 

Or was it fear? Rukia could not tell. She had never done this before; wouldn't it be proper for her to be scared? However, one fact remained the same: she trusted Ichigo and knew he would never do anything to intentionally hurt her.

 

Ichigo's hands tightened on her hips and in one swift movement he buried his throbbing cock inside of her slick heat.

 

Rukia uttered a sharp gasp at the delicious feeling. It was—it was—filling. He was filling her completely until there was no room left inside of her body for any rational thought. His organ, restless with need, pulsated inside of her, touching places of her that she had never known she had. She felt completed by him, trapped by him, freed by him, antagonized by him, comforted by him. So many emotions crawling over her slick skin at the simple joining of their bodies.

 

But Ichigo wasn't finished, oh no, no—not at all. The moment Rukia had begun to feel completed and confident in her actions he tugged on her hips and yanked her upwards. Rukia—having no idea what he was doing—unwittingly obeyed, slight pangs of fear rushing through her chest—her heart even. Did he not want her after all?

 

Rukia had almost released him fully before he grabbed her hips tightly and thrust her back down upon his erect member. Rukia nearly cried out at the sensation. To be emptied and filled, to be incomplete and complete—it was dizzying. Her breathing was coming in distraught pants when he stopped. His brow was now furrowed, his eyes concerned by her reactions. Rukia allowed her drooping head to rise; her hair cascaded around her eyes like a warm blanket and tickled his chest as she gazed at him, straight in the eye.

 

Hunger was written in every aspect. Ichigo was almost surprised by the massive amount of passion and possession he saw in her eyes. He gulped and gasped when she took the initiative and began to move above him. Ichigo watched her lovely body as it rose above him ever so slightly then slammed back down until he was seated inside of her to the hilt. Ichigo groaned and began to move in unison. Pull up, push down, pull up, push down… anything to release the growing pressure inside of his loins.

 

Rukia threw her head back and let her mussed hair fall like an ebony waterfall down her back. Her hips were undulating with power and passion as she rode him. She wanted nothing more than to continue, to keep him in this state of mindless abandon while she, herself, continued in her own state of helplessness.

 

She could feel it building. She had felt it for a while now. It was the same pressure she had felt under Ichigo's fingers only this time it was more intense, more forceful, and more severe. This time the contraction inside of her felt one thousand—no, one million times greater than before.

 

Rukia threw her head back once again while Ichigo leaned his forward. His lips sought for purchase on her neck and found her pulse point. His teeth bit down hard and she gasped at the feeling. She was actually quite surprised that she hadn't screamed yet.

 

Rukia rode the waves of her orgasm the same time Ichigo released inside of her with a groan. Her inner walls squeezed and contracted around his stiff cock as he continued to thrust inside of her, his own release raking his body and making him shudder. Droplets of his cum leaked out of her hot center as their juices mixed together in passion.

 

Gasping, stroking, and heaving in exhaustion, Rukia and Ichigo fell prostrate onto the bed, their connection never broken by their movements. His arms were wrapped around her body, trying to contain their shaking frames. Deeply, they stared into each others eyes and waited until they drooped with the sweet bonds of sleep. Ichigo was the first to fall under its delightful spell, leaving Rukia awake and running her fingers through his hair.

 

Only when she was sure he was truly asleep—his brow had smoothed completely and he was beginning to murmur her name with sweetness—did she climb out of bed, walk stark naked across the room, dig into her supplies of Soul Reaper paraphernalia, pull out her small device that erased the memories of others, and turned to Ichigo.

 

All in all, her experiment—if you could call it that—was a success. She had delved into the minds of the most complicated of men, made him desire her, made him want her, and made him follow through in the action of love. She had felt what desire was. She had felt what it was supposed to be like and she had reveled in the feeling.

 

She held up the tiny device and stared at it. For some reason, there was a strange panging inside of her chest—her heart perhaps? She ignored it and turned towards Ichigo. This way there were no complications. This way there were no sideways glances, unwarranted blushes, no insubordinations, and no wanton desires. It wasn't to say that she didn't want him. No, if she could, she would have him every way in every minute of every day. In time, perhaps their acts of desire would grow into something even more. Love, possibly? If life even permitted such a thing to happen.

 

Rukia's hooded eyes were dark in the dead of the night. It wasn't to be. They were coming for her and she knew it. She would be found. She would be tried. She would be convicted. She would die. It was the way it would be. Ichigo was better not knowing what had transpired between them on this heavenly summer night.

 

She knelt by his bedside and smoothed his hair away from his unfettered brow. She smiled and kissed him chastely on the lips. After one more gaze at him she released the magic and waved away the small puff of smoke.

 

Ichigo's face did not change.

 

Rukia simply smiled and went back to her closet, leaving the pajamas on the floor.

 

~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~~-~-~ ~-~-~~-~-~

 

Ichigo woke up the next morning to the surprising notion that he was not wearing any clothes. The realization surprised him because normally, he wore a beater and a pair of boxers to bed. This morning, however, he was dressed only in his birthday suit and a covered only in a couple of rumpled blankets.

 

Ichigo's gaze swept the room and he blinked confusedly at the pair of boxers and the set of yellow and orange checkered pajamas lying in the center of his floor.

 

“What the hell…?” He murmured softly as he scanned the room once again and made sure Rukia was still in his/her closet. Quickly, he darted out to the center of the room and jerked on his boxers. Once they were secured around his midriff he turned and knocked on Rukia's closet. He glanced at the clock and noticed the time: 6:23. Why was he up this early? School didn't start for another two hours.

 

He heard a mumbling inside of the closet and sighed. Kami, Rukia was so lazy sometimes. He knocked again and frowned as she slid the door open slightly. Only her head poked through the little door and she glared at him, clearly disgruntled.

 

“What?” She asked him grumpily. There were bags of purple under her eyes and her cheeks looked splotchy with bits of red. Was she sick?

 

“Why are your pajamas on the floor?” He asked bluntly, getting directly to the point.

 

“I got hot last night,” she muttered immediately, “I took them off. Is that okay?” A hand came to her head and she scratched her hairline.

 

Ichigo's cheeks burned softly and his fists clenched beside him. “No! It is not okay! If you get hot you take off a couple of blankets, you don't take off your clothes!” He hissed.

 

Rukia narrowed her eyes a bit, “That… really wasn't an option last night.”

 

Ichigo's frown deepened and he glared at her inquisitively, “Just how hot were you last night?”

 

Surprisingly—at least to Ichigo—a smile formed on Rukia's lips.

 

“More than you'd know.”