Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Stranglehold ( Chapter 9 )

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

 

(A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't put up an update for a while. It's the end of the grading period for me so I have about three tests/quizzes a day plus mountains of homework. But I ignore it all so I can write so it's all okay. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter because it was sure as hell fun to write.

Oh, and as another note, Hitsugaya will be mentioned in Chapter 10 but probably not make an appearance until Chapter 12. So be patient!

Thanks for all the reviews I received on the last chapter! READ, ENJOY, AND REVIEW!!!)

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

“You left this… yesterday.”

 

Ichigo lifted the heavy coat and threw it over the backside of her chair. She didn't look up at him. She didn't want him to see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

 

“Thanks.” She muttered shortly, she continued flipping through the papers on her—technically still his—desk as she tried to blink out the memories of the previous night.

 

Ichigo slid silently into the seat positioned at the edge of her desk, it was their new arrangement: she would keep her legs tucked underneath the bureau while he would be turned to face her, his body positioned on the outside of the desk. She remembered how she had fought him for so long about getting the seat, she had even come close to hitting him before he finally sighed heavily, threw up his arms, and yelled that she could have it. She had considered the victory a success and, in celebration, put a squishy stress ball on the corner of her new desk area.

 

Granted the stress ball was a mangled mess right now, but that wasn't the point.

 

He sat heavily down on his side of the desk and cleared his throat slightly. Rukia still didn't want to look up at him. She was afraid that if she did she'd want him to kiss her again.

 

“So,” he said softly, “Do you want to go try and find Tousen today?”

 

“Um…” She began, cursing herself for letting her voice become so quiet and wavering. “I guess we should.”

 

There was a pause. “We could do our paperwork today. If you want…”

 

Rukia looked at her watch, still unable to glance at Ichigo's face. It was around nine in the morning. She had been here for six hours whereas Ichigo had just come in. She swallowed and wondered what he had done to make him so late for work. What had he done when he realized that he couldn't sleep, couldn't close his eyes without thinking of her lips beneath his?

 

When it had happened to her she had simply gone into work early. But he… what had he done?

 

“No.” She said, clearing her throat with a quick click and shaking her hair slightly. She needed to get control of herself. “We should go to the docks, the ones Ichimaru told us about.”

 

Without another word, Ichigo nodded, picked up his coat, and started towards the door, car keys in hand.

 

Rukia stayed at her desk for only a few more moments before blinking rapidly and swallowing hard. Her hands unclenched from the papers she had been holding tightly and her lungs released a pent up breath she hadn't even known she'd been restraining.

 

Shakily wondering why this was happening to her, she slowly rose from the chair, took the coat from the back of the chair, and made to follow Ichigo.

 

But as her fingers touched the soft fabric of the coat she stopped and felt a lump begin to form in the very center of her throat. Rukia glanced around the precinct to make sure no one was looking before pulling the soft coat towards her face and drawing in its scent.

 

A tingle ran up her spine as she realized she recognized it. Of course there was her overpowering scent—understandable since she wore it nearly every day—but beneath that, on a faint whiff, was the spicy scent of masculinity. Closing her eyes she breathed in the aroma once again. She could picture a rumpled apartment, tacky furniture, a couple dishes left out, and Ichigo, right in the middle of it all. He would be wearing boxers, of course, alone in his apartment… sometimes he would wear a shirt, but not always.

 

Just him. The scent filled with power and agility and so much sexual potency it was almost enough to make her feel drunk inside.

 

Rukia's fingers loosened slightly on the jacket and brought it away from her face. With despair she stared at the camel colored coat. She clenched her jaw, threw it over her chair, and began to walk towards the door. As she strode into the cooling autumn air she knew that she would get cold at the docks, but she didn't care. She wouldn't be able to concentrate if she was wearing Ichigo's scent.

 

She needed a new coat anyway.

 

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

 

It was mid-November before they were able to locate the spot Tousen's men frequented at the docks.

 

They had spent a month scouring the watery site with members of the canine unit, and then, when the dogs couldn't even find anything, anything worth reporting that is, the unit had left and only Ichigo and Rukia remained… and that alone was pain enough.

 

They had barely spoken since the… incident that had conspired between them, not a word other than those related to work. Everything had to do with paperwork, everything was about the case; nothing was about how his kiss had made her feel so much more than she had ever felt before.

 

Rukia shook her head furiously at the thought, her hair brushing against the lapels of her new, navy colored jacket. She couldn't be thinking of that right now. She needed a clear head right now. She couldn't be so careless as to let her mind wander. Especially since she was wandering on top of termite infested planks of wood, hovering five feet above murky black water.

 

Rukia checked her gun holster once again and breathed a slight sigh when she felt the cool metal touch her fingertips. She kept her head low and continued to sweep her eyes around the area, occasionally looking down at her feet to make sure she wouldn't fall through the crumbling wood.

 

She crept around a corner and immediately thought back to the cup of coffee he had started to buy her everyday. Piping hot and black, just how she liked it. He brought it to her each morning at seven. She thought it was strange that he was now coming in so early, he used to saunter in whenever he wanted, nine o'clock, eleven o'clock… he always claimed that he was out doing something exceedingly important but Rukia could always smell a slight sweat on him, as though he had been hitting the gym instead of a couple of perps.

 

And then there were the looks. She always seemed to feel his eyes on her, but whenever she looked up and tried to catch him in the act, he would always be staring at a piece of paper or in the rearview mirror or even down at his shoes.

 

Rukia pressed her back against a rotting box and made sure to keep her hair away from the crumbling wood. With practiced motions, she inched her face just a bit around the corner and peered around. Nothing. Damn… where was this guy? She knew she had seen him… even Ichigo had seen him… where the hell did he disappear to?

 

He was also being a lot more disagreeable lately, well, when he wasn't being completely silent. It was something new that she found quite irritating. She didn't even know where his hostility had come from. Was it because she had run away right after his soul-stealing kiss? I mean, he had told her that many women—and men—wanted to sleep with him, did she insult him by running away?

 

Rukia snorted and kept sliding her way across the docks. Not that it should even matter to her, she wasn't going to suddenly start being concerned that she'd hurt his feelings. Definitely not. He was like a wall; she tried to tell herself, she shouldn't be feeling guilty that she had accidentally bumped it with her shoulder… or her mouth.

 

She heard a creak a few feet away. Her attention snapped back into place and she grasped the butt of her gun. Her fingers ran over the discolored wood of a large box and she drew in a deep breath before swinging around and raising her gun to the appropriate height.

 

There was no one there. She narrowed her eyes and tried to tell her beating heart to stop acting so irrationally. Just a creak. There were always creaks like that whenever she was out in the field. Perfectly normal.

 

With a sigh of, what she told herself was, irritation, Rukia re-holstered her gun and kept creeping along.

 

It just wasn't like him… what he was doing now. Granted, she had only known him for a couple of months but she felt like she knew him on another level, a deeper level than she was really letting on. She told herself she was being crazy, that this was just a weird phase that she would eventually see come and go, a slight… idea.

 

That's what she had organized this as, it was not a crush, it was not an infatuation, it was an idea. Whenever she thought of Ichigo and his kiss she simply diverted the fluttering in her heart and the heating in her stomach to the idea of him. She liked the idea that he would kiss her like that and touch her as he had; she just didn't like that he had actually done it.

 

That's where Rukia's great sense of devaluation came into play. She could downplay one of the most significant moments of her life into a mere Hollywood air kiss—not the full on oral exploration she had experienced instead. It was a gift, she called it, it was a gift that she could take something so significant and turn it into an almost nothingness.

 

As Rukia pressed her hand against another box she narrowed her eyes and thought back to how she had done it… yes, she had come out of the precinct… Ichigo was angry with her… she had tripped and fell… he caught her… his lips accidentally brushed her cheek… she had run home for exercise.

 

It was a perfectly logical explanation… it was safe… it was reasonable.

 

It was also a big fucking lie.

 

Inwardly, Rukia shrugged, not really caring that she had downplayed the kiss so much that in the front of her mind it was merely a peck on the cheek while in the darkest corner of the back of her mind it was an X rated porno. It didn't matter though; she had pushed the explicit memory so far into the back of her mind that it was nothing more than a speck to her. A speck…

 

She swallowed convulsively and told herself to continue moving. She needed to find the man they were searching for, the guy who would lead them to Tousen… she needed to find him so she could arrest him for killing her brother and her friends. Setting a more determined look on her face she clenched her jaw shut and rounded another corner. She saw a few stray cats, some mice, and a couple of rotting fish corpses… nothing spectacular…

 

What she didn't see was the man standing behind her, holding a rope level with her neck.

 

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

 

She hadn't been acting right for the past few days, Ichigo mused as he walked blatantly between the aisles of piled boxes laden with insects and parasites. His eyes were sweeping from one corner to another, looking for any signs of actual intelligent life, but his mind was on a completely different track.

 

He sighed and returned to his topic of contemplation, in all actuality, she hadn't been acting right for the past month and a half.

 

He knew it was because of him and what he had done to her on that early autumn night so long ago. So long ago…

 

Sighing, he continued to walk down the aisles of the docks, completely in range of any amateur's gun or rifle, but Ichigo didn't care right now. He continued stomping about in the open, confident that he would be able to hear the click of a gun and dive before he was hit.

 

He kicked a stray stone out of his way and ground his bottom teeth together.

 

He didn't like how she had been acting. She had been too… too… quiet; yes, he guessed that would be the appropriate way to phrase it. She was being much to quiet for a woman of Rukia Kuchiki's standards.

 

She wasn't the type of person to blush and turn away like she was doing now… it just wasn't the Rukia he had grown used to knowing. He just felt uncomfortable with her new lack of fire. She was the type of person who liked to scream at you just for the hell of it, she would punch, kick, twist, grab, and scratch until your lesson was learned and you cried `uncle.'

 

Ichigo sighed and wondered if he had simply sucked the life out of her with his kiss. Granted, he thought as he glanced around a corner, he wasn't the only one who had been doing the kissing. He felt a familiar heat curl up in his stomach when he thought of how her lips had opened under his, taking in many shuddering breaths as he traced her flush pinkness with his tongue and then slipped inside of her.

 

She had kissed him with such force he had felt his breath completely sucked out of his lungs. Her hands had run over his chest and grappled for any purchase she could find. And her hips… in the brief time they had been pressed against his, they had undulated and shifted so his already stiff member had grown even stiffer.

 

Ichigo shuddered involuntarily and attempted to quash the feelings of desire now growing inside of him. When the memories wouldn't cease he let a frustrated sigh escape his throat. Ever since the night they had kissed his mind had been playing X rated fantasies involving his mouth, her body, and a couple of naughty places not suitable for public conversation.

 

But… Christ… he wanted her. There was no denying that. He would think of having her every way possible, any way possible, every where possible. A couple of times his mind even turned to her being spread out on the break room table or him being on the underside of their desk, kissing and licking her thighs until she came on his tongue… he even—

 

In the distance, he heard a strangled cry let loose and the smash of boxes toppling over. Ichigo's head snapped out of his daze and his legs immediately began working, in a matter of seconds he was sprinting towards the disturbing sounds, his muscles screaming in protest.

 

He was there in a matter of moments. He turned the corner, gun held in his hand, and immediately saw an extremely large man holding a taunt rope. The rope was thick and wrapped around the neck of a struggling Rukia Kuchiki. She was lifted off the ground, her feet kicking and flying through the air. Her face was the color of pale cream and her lips were tinged with blue. The man's face was scrunched with the effort to hold her still against his body and to keep the rope securely situated around her neck. He didn't notice Ichigo coming closer.

 

Ichigo's eyes immediately began to bleed red. The next thing he knew he was holding his gun at eye level with the man, he remembered shouting some words, maybe warnings, maybe threats, he just wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure of was that the man turned his startled eyes on him, saw the gun, tightened his grip on the rope, and Ichigo shot.

 

The bullet grazed the mans' shoulder and he yelped in pain and surprise. The rope went slack and the monsters hand shot over to the injured spot, smacking his disgusting meat-hook against the top of Rukia's head, slamming her limp body in the direction of more rotting boxes. Ichigo surged forward and slammed his knee into the thug's stomach; he doubled over and wheezed for breath. He had barely recovered when Ichigo sent the whole of his forearm down on his neck, slamming him unconscious as his body dropped to the rotting ground. The man would be out for hours.

 

“Rukia!” Ichigo cried, his attention snapping back to her. He dove towards her instantly and brought his hands around her back, lifting her head up gently, hearing and feeling her heaving lungs as they furiously worked for breath.

 

She was coughing and her face was flushing with blood. He sat down and pulled her by her underarms until she was resting on his lap. He swallowed and placed his hand on her breastbone, directly above her heart. He rubbed slowly, attempting to calm her frantic breathing so she wouldn't hyperventilate.

 

“Shh…” he said softly, keeping his eyes bent on her face and not the man who had just tried to strangle her, it was blank and dead-looking. “Shh… Rukia, its fine. He's out, you're safe.”

 

Her breathing was becoming a bit less desperate and Ichigo continued rubbing her chest. It took almost ten minutes for her heart to stop frantically beating, for her lips to return to their normal shade, and for her eyes to stop skittering around in fear.

 

He saw her swallow and wince slightly. Her hand shakily rose to her throat, he saw her feel the small rise of red welts on her skin and he knew that she would have a bruise later.

 

She swallowed once again and opened her mouth, Ichigo's hand had not stopped the rubbing on her chest and now his other hand was squeezing and caressing her shoulder. His amber eyes were trained intently on her mouth as she tried to create words on her tongue.

 

In the end, she simply wheezed, “My… b-badge…” she gasped.

 

Ichigo frowned and leaned forward a bit more, his chin exceedingly close to her forehead. “What? What about your badge?”

 

She drew in another breath and coughed sporadically. “He…he took it f-from me.”

 

Ichigo's eyebrows curled into a frown and he glanced over at the prostrate man on the ground. His eyes traveled around to his clenched fist, along with the length of rope clenched in his meaty palms, Ichigo could see a shining, metallic chain and a glimpse of a badge. Rukia's badge. Her eyes were on it too and he nodded, telling her he'd get it as soon as she could stand.

 

He didn't bother telling her that it felt nice to hold her like this, simply rubbing her chest and feeling her breathe against his hand. He brought her further against his chest, until her head was resting against the crook of his neck and shoulder. His arm twisted until it was coming from beneath, still rubbing her chest but at a different angle. He steadied his breathing and waited until Rukia was able to keep her breathing level with his and continued rubbing her shoulders, alternately whispering and sighing to her. You're going to be okay, he told her, it will all be fine.

 

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only about fifteen minutes. Rukia's breathing finally became calmer and her raspy breaths were less forced and more relaxed. She eventually let her neck go slack and allowed his hands to rub against the welts on her neck. He guessed it must have felt good to her because her throat kept vibrating as if it were sighing in relief. She seemed at ease like this.

 

Right now, he was with Rukia the woman, not Rukia the cop, something he was graciously thankful for.

 

“I killed him.”

 

Ichigo's eyes slid open unexpectedly and blinked at the part of Rukia's face he could see; the profile of her nose, the shine in her eye, and the softness of her mouth. Her expression was quiet, reflective almost.

 

Ichigo continued rubbing her chest and murmured, “Who?”

 

Rukia blinked once and her long, long lashes fluttered with the slight breeze. Neither of them truly noticed their surroundings, the smell of decomposing fish, the dank air of rotting boxes, or the scurrying sounds made by rats nearby. Ichigo was too focused on what he could see of Rukia's face and hear from her lips, while Rukia was completely aware of his hand rubbing her breastbone and the throbbing encroaching upon her heart.

 

She needed to tell him.

 

“Kaien.” She whispered, her voice dropping a few octaves, “I killed him.”

 

Ichigo's hand slowed down to a smooth rubbing, his thumb lightly touching the skin just above her neckline. Rukia had to ignore the sensation in order to focus.

 

“He was my mentor.” She murmured, “At the Police Academy… and when I first entered the two eight.” Her eyes shifted down. “I adored him; he taught me everything about being a cop—but not just a cop, a good cop, and an even better detective.”

 

Ichigo nodded slowly and pressed his cheek to her hair, liking how it felt on his skin. “And?” He asked, willing her to continue.

 

A shiver ran through Rukia's spine, “He was my first partner. I told him I was too inexperienced to be of any use, but he insisted… said I would learn a thing or two.” She paused and sighed softly, “He was the greatest; and everyday we would catch the perp, collar the bad guy, or just stake out some random house. He taught me how to rely on myself and h-how to use my own strength to get things done.”

 

Ichigo felt a cold inkling of jealousy start in the pit of his stomach and run its way up his spine. He forced it back down and told himself to answer, “What happened?”

 

“His wife was murdered.” She said softly, her limp hands coming up from the dirty ground to rest on the tops of her thighs. “She was a street cop and was out on duty when some whack job grabbed her, raped her, sodomized her, and killed her.”

 

The jealousy Ichigo had felt a moment ago vanished, only to be replaced by guilt and self-disgust.

 

“When Kaien found out…” Rukia whispered, “He just went crazy.” She swallowed and drew in a shuddering breath. “He wouldn't talk to me anymore, he wouldn't listen to the lieutenant, he began to go out on his own, he started talking to himself, he—he… he went crazy trying to find the guy who did it.”

 

Ichigo reached down to one of her delicate hands and picked it up, gently rubbing his callused thumb over the top. “And?”

 

“One day,” she said, her voice becoming scratchy and unclear, “One day he called me, told me he had caught the guy who had killed his wife.” She cleared her throat once more and shook her head. “When I got there… he was holding a mother and her two year old son at gunpoint.”

 

Ichigo's stomach dropped six feet under the ground.

 

“I told him he had gotten it wrong,” she said, “That he needed to let them go… but he wouldn't stop screaming. He was just jabbing and jabbing and jabbing the gun at them and I just stood there, crying and yelling at him to stop.”

 

Her breathing was unsteady again and he could feel her heart accelerating. The rubbing on her chest became more persistent as he tried to calm her down.

 

“It started to rain then,” she said shakily, “Just pouring down. I had my gun out and so did he. I had just charged at him, he had dropped his gun… I pushed him away and made the mother and her son run. They were safe but I…I… he started yelling at me, telling me that I had let `him' get away, that I had destroyed the only hope he had for getting his wife back.

 

“I told him she couldn't come back, I told him that over and over, but he didn't believe me. He just kept saying it over and over until it was pounding in his skull. So—So he came towards me and grabbed the top of my gun, I knew he was going to twist it around and point it at me but I—I couldn't stop him, I was just standing there, crying and yelling at him to stop…”

 

“Rukia…” Ichigo murmured.

 

“But then I heard a bang.” She said, her voice wobbling dangerously, “I heard a bang and felt the gun recoil in my hands. Kaien was in front of me, standing still. I looked at him and saw a huge hole in his chest… it was bleeding so badly.”

 

Her grip on his hand tightened and she continued to breathe heavily, her voice was cracked and pained and all Ichigo wanted to do was make it go away.

 

“But then… then he just… slumped. He just slumped forward. His head fell on my shoulder and I could have sworn I heard him thank me. And then—then… he died.”

 

“Rukia… don't…” Ichigo began, but she cut him off, determined to finish.

 

“I was there when his sister and little brother came to see his body. They saw the gunshot wound and demanded to know who had shot him. They wouldn't stop yelling in the precinct until they were told. So I came forward and told them I had done it.” She snorted softly and shook her head, “They left without saying another word. I haven't heard from them in over three years.

 

“After I that I was reviewed by the Commission board, found not guilty, and given two months leave—to `recuperate.'” She spit the word out like it was poison. “But how could I? When the only thing I ever saw when I closed my eyes was Kaien's face?” She sighed and closed her eyes painfully. “When I got back no one wanted to be my partner… no one except Renji, and that was just because he knew me from when we were kids.”

 

“Rukia,” Ichigo began, “You—”

 

“That's why I've been so cold to you all along, Ichigo… or, I think so at least.” She turned to him and opened her large, violet eyes. He was almost blinded by their intensity and immediately felt the urge to place his mouth on her eyelids. He wanted to kiss them closed so she wouldn't have to witness anymore pain and suffering. “You look… you look… like his double. Except for the hair. His was black, yours is… is…”

 

To his surprise, one of her hands lifted from her thigh and reached up, gently grabbing a lock of his hair and twirling it between her thumb and her index finger. His breath caught in his throat as she watched the way the light played on the strands. “Yours is like the sun.”

 

A shuddering gasp came out of his mouth and out of his lungs and out of his heart. She continued to twirl his hair, staring intently at the way it fell on his head.

 

How could she do that? How could she take a simple, five word sentence and turn it into the most heart-pounding, mind-numbing, and nerve-wrecking three seconds in his life?

 

“Rukia…” he murmured, leaning just a bit forward, just enough to brush his mouth against hers.

 

He would have… if she hadn't turned her head away at her very last moment, so instead of her beautiful mouth, his lips ended up pressing against the hollow of her neck. He felt her shiver slightly but knew that she hadn't wanted him to kiss her fully. Ichigo's stomach hurt at the rejection but he digested it with as much pride as he could, allowing his lips to linger just below her ear, then slide down to touch the red, welting, line now forming across her throat.

 

Her shiver grew larger and only succeeded in evolving to a tiny quaking when he flicked his tongue out and gently licked her.

 

“Ichigo,” she murmured hoarsely, “Stop it.”

 

He pressed his mouth closer, tenderly caressing her injured neck, more intent on soothing her than pleasuring her… even though at the moment he seemed to be doing both.

 

“I don't want to.” He said softly, rubbing his nose against her. His hand, still running along her chest, was beginning to make sideways motions to brush against her breasts. She had to suppress a whimper whenever he came near to touching one.

 

She sighed and shook her head; in a slow but decisive motion, she leaned forward and began to detach herself from his embrace. “Don't, Ichigo, just… don't.” She stood up gingerly, trying not to exert herself anymore than she had to.

 

Ichigo was still sitting on the ground, his bottom numb from being in one position for so long. He watched her rise and felt a cold hand clench around his stomach, squeezing him as if to warn him against what he was about to say.

 

“Rukia,” he said softly, but still clearly enough to make a point. “Why are you doing this?” He put his knees underneath him and slowly stood, brushing dirt from his jeans in the process. “I want you more than anything I've ever wanted before, I think that's plain enough to see.” His eyes narrowed as her form stiffened in front of him. “And I know you want me too.”

 

“I don't.” She murmured, reaching down to the still-unconscious thug and taking her badge from his clasped hand.

 

“Yes,” Ichigo reinforced, “You do.” He came forward and stopped only a foot away. “I can tell… when I touch you or when I look at you… you blush like you're imagining what's going to happen between us.”

 

“Nothing is going to happen between us.” Rukia said clearly, turning around and shaking her head. “Absolutely nothing.”

 

“You know that's a lie, Rukia.” He said, taking a half-step forward.

 

“No…” she said, leaning back a bit. “It's not.” She shook her head and sighed again. “I told you that story so you would stop.” She closed her eyes softly and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I don't want it.”

 

Ichigo's eyes glowered, “Don't want what?” He asked dangerously, taking another half step forward.

 

A rancid breeze lifted through the docks and lifted Rukia's hair; it shifted in the air and fluttered around her face. Ichigo's hand lifted immediately and brushed it back, but instead of relinquishing her face from his grasp he hooked his hand to the back of her neck.

 

She raised her eyes to his and shook her head softly from side to side. “Ichigo… don't… I can't—”

 

Ichigo's lips descended softly on hers and kissed her with such tenderness and slowly building heat it was all she could do not to melt into him directly. Her hands grasped his collar and he clutched the base of her head as well as the small of her back, pressing her softly against him.

 

She groaned softly as his tongue traced her bottom lip, silently demanding that she open to him. She couldn't have resisted if she tried. Her mouth opened almost immediately and his tongue slipped inside. She reveled in the chance to taste him again. His sweetly spicy scent that drove her out of her mind with want and desire. In the back of her mind she wanted to know if she tasted as good to him as he did to her.

 

She wondered briefly… just what would happen if she let him run his sinfully tempting mouth over her entire body.

 

She felt her fingers weaken from his collar and smooth up the sides of his neck. God he was strong. She could feel his heavy pulse under her fingertips and the wiry sinew of his muscular body as it strained against hers.

 

But his lips… oh, his lips… this kiss was completely different from the one she had experienced that September night so long ago. The last one had been steamed and heated, fueled by anger and unquenched desires. This one though, was soft and steady; his lips touched hers with the lightness of angels' wings but with enough purpose to make his intentions quite clear. His hand was massaging her scalp and rubbing against her back as he worked tenderly on her mouth. Nothing else seemed to matter to him more at this very moment than giving her the most exquisite kiss she had ever received in her entire lifetime. The tenderness, the tenacity, the tormenting desires he was attempting to relay in a single, gentle, kiss… everything was too perfect to be true.

 

Ichigo's kiss slowed even more until he placed his lips on the corners of her mouth and her cheeks. He sighed against her face and lightly kissed her fluttering eyelids, causing her to murmur and whimper with unprecedented helplessness.

 

Ichigo smoothed his hand up and down her back and wondered if she was still having trouble breathing.

 

Slowly, he took his face away from hers and watched as her eyes opened to the full extent of their violet vivaciousness. She blinked a few times before sighing heavily and sliding her hands away from his neck.

 

“That's why…” she murmured softly, “We can't do this.”

 

Ichigo gulped softly and slowly shook his head from side to side. “Don't do this Rukia.”

 

“We have to.” She said quietly, moving back another step. Ichigo wouldn't relinquish his grip on her and she only succeeded in him pulling her closer to him. “Ichigo,” she murmured, “We can't.”

 

“We can.”

 

“No,” she pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him back, not with as much force as she used last time, but enough to push him off of her completely. “We can't… Ichigo,” her eyes turned on him and she gazed at him with a pained expression. “I told you that story because… because I thought it would make you realize… Kaien got too close; I was almost destroyed when he died.” She sighed, her breath frustrated and hoarse, “If I let you get too close and you… and you… like Kaien… Ichigo I would just die.”

 

“I'm not Kaien, Rukia.” Ichigo said, holding his hands stiffly at his sides. “I'll never be him.”

 

“I don't want him.” Rukia said softly. “I don't want another Kaien.” She shook her head, “I want you, Ichigo. Sometimes it's all I think about.”

 

Ichigo's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, he felt it drown in the feelings she was evoking. “Then why…?”

 

“I just can't…” She said quickly, quickly but softly. Ichigo could tell her heart was dying just a bit inside. “I can't let myself get close.” She raised her head once again and looked at him with those piercing eyes. “I don't want a relationship with you, I can't let myself. Please just don't… don't do anything like that again.”

 

Ichigo shook his head and allowed a hard glint to come into his eyes, “I can't promise you that, Rukia.”

 

“Ichigo…” she whispered, running her hand through her ebony hair. “Please…” She shut her eyes and tried to compromise a bit of her dignity. She hated begging, there was nothing lower.

 

“Listen to me, Rukia,” Ichigo muttered softly, his voice almost becoming a low growl. He took a step forward and made sure that he and the object of his desires was directly in front of him. She didn't move away like he thought she would. She stood firm and steady, glaring at him with her recuperating strength. His eyes bored directly into hers as he spoke. “I'll play this little game of tag with you, but let me tell you, I'm going to play dirty—extremely dirty. You want your distance, that's fine, but when you're within arms reach of me the ball's in my court. I'll touch you, kiss you, and do whatever I can until you're finally mine. And I don't mean melting softly mine… I mean screaming underneath me mine.”

 

She sucked in a sharp breath and ended up coughing slightly. Ichigo might have felt bad but her expression was completely worth it. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open slightly. She looked horrified but dangerously sexual at the same time.

 

Ichigo let a slow, evil, grin curl on his mouth. “Do we understand each other?”

 

She glared at him and then swallowed, her face showing slight pain but her body not giving away a single inch.

 

Slowly… ever so slowly… he saw a wicked smirk begin to form on her face. Ichigo was almost taken aback by her change in attitude, but let it pass nonchalantly. He needed the upper hand in this.

 

Rukia shook her head lightly and turned around, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. She was ready to dial when she glanced at him and said, “This will be interesting.”

 

Ichigo nodded his head and moved a bit close to her. “Yes it will.”