Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Suggestive Invitations ( Chapter 10 )

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

 

(A/N: Thank you guys so much for all of my fantastic reviews! I really hope you guys know that if not for all of your support I probably wouldn't be writing as much as I am!

Also, this chapter was originally 26 pages but I thought that might be a bit long so I cut it in half. So you'll just have to wait for the other part. :P

Okay, I hope you enjoy this chapter, ENJOY AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!)

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

“Merry almost Christmas.” Ichigo murmured gruffly as he approached her from behind.

 

Rukia practically yelped when she felt his all-too-noticeable form leaning against the desk, trapping her with one of his arms and almost boxing her into the wooden structure. She moved immediately and ended up jerking her chair back; slamming it's top into Ichigo's midriff. He grunted and coughed slightly at the abrupt movement, steadying himself so the coffee he was holding would not spill. He looked up but did not try and catch Rukia as she grabbed some papers from her desk and jolted off into the direction of the M.E.'s office.

 

“What now?” He called after her retreating back.

 

“I need to check on, uh, something!” She told him, not even turning her head as she raced out into the hallway.

 

Ichigo blinked twice, set the coffee down on the table, and allowed a small smirk to crawl onto his face.

 

Oh yeah, he thought arrogantly, I'm winning.

 

Rukia rushed down the hallway, clutching the stack of meaningless papers to her chest, feeling the heady sensations finally start to disappear. When she made it to the end of the corridor, she looked back over her shoulder and through the glass-paned top of the wooden doors. She could see Ichigo bending over the desk, glancing at a few of the papers she had left in her hurry to get away from him. He was sipping a small coffee held in his hand while another rested nearby.

 

Rukia swallowed thickly and shook her hair out of her eyes. She quickly turned away and glanced over at the stairs leading to the M.E.'s office. With a half-hearted shrug she sighed and opened the door. Descending to the cold area she instantly wondered if she would walk in on Orihime and Ishida… again.

 

The two had been at it like rabbits since they had first met. It was so bad that both of the examiners were slacking off in their hours just to get time together. Sometimes when Ichigo and Rukia needed to speak to Orihime they were met with a note that would read, “At the two eight, be back in one hour.”

 

Needless to say, it was getting quite ridiculous. So much so that the pair of detectives had even tried examining bodies themselves—with Rukia perpetually on one side of the table while Ichigo was on the other, even though he would try and scoot over to her when she wasn't looking. As it turned out, examining bodies and reading medical report sheets were much harder than either Ichigo or Rukia suspected. In the end, she and he had simply resorted to sitting around in the office, staring at various amounts of equipment and waiting for her to come back.

 

Neither of them wanted to repeat the experience they had walked in on a few months previous—ever—so they hadn't gone in search of them, but they had seen evidence of such promiscuous acts littering the cabinets nearby. Condoms, contraceptives, and a package of birth control pills… the way Rukia saw it Orihime was definitely getting enough.

 

Sighing, she opened the door to the examiner's office and poked her head in, “Orihime?” She called quietly, “Orihime are you in here?”

 

“Kuchiki?” A sweet voice said from inside, “Yeah, I'm here, come on in.”

 

Rukia came in at ease, supremely confident that she would not find her new friend sprawled on an examining table, Ishida's face between her thighs.

 

“Hey,” she said wearily, “How are you?”

 

The pretty doctor was standing near a table, on which a dead person was sprawled; Rukia could see the feet from underneath the sheet as well as the shoulders and the neck… without a head.

 

She whistled softly, “What happened to this guy?”

 

Orihime sighed and leaned against the metallic table, “Head chopped off with the blunt edge of an ax.”

 

Rukia didn't even bother to wince, “Ouch, who's taking the case?”

 

“I think this is going to Kiyone and Sentaro.” She answered.

 

The detective snorted, “If they can stop arguing long enough to actually find the guy.” She crossed her arms across her chest and slumped against the wall. “Christ…” With her free hand, she rubbed it against her face and wondered why she was hiding down here like a frightened child.

 

Orihime blinked her large eyes at Rukia and lifted her hand to pull off the mask covering her mouth. “Kuchiki?” She said softly, “What's wrong?”

 

Rukia's jaw clamped shut and she swallowed stiffly, unconsciously, she reached a hand to the top of her neck and felt around her throat. The welts were gone and the bruises vanished but the memory of the rope around her neck was still fresh in her mind.

 

The rope, the bastard who had done it, and Ichigo's sweetly searing kiss.

 

“Is it your neck?” Orihime asked, coming toward her and peering at the creamy column. “It looks fine.”

 

“Oh,” Rukia muttered, “It's not that… it's just…” She drew in a breath and let it whoosh out pathetically. She could feel the examiner's eyes on hers and knew that she was waiting for something to be said, a deep confession of the heart, a telltale secret of the soul, whatever was troubling her… anything like that. Rukia winced slightly at the silence and wondered if she actually should tell the woman what had been going on.

 

Swiftly, she cleared her throat and said, “Did you know that the guy who tried to strangle me, Yammy, I think his name was, ended up getting shanked in prison before we got to talk to him? He died on the scene.”

 

Orihime's eyes widened significantly and she drew in a gasp, “No!”

 

Rukia nodded grimly, “Yeah, it turns out that this Tousen guy has lots of connections in the prison area. One call, one order, and he's dead.” She sighed, “Makes my job a hell of a lot harder.”

 

“I'm so sorry!” She gasped, her eyes widening even more.

 

Rukia would have found the woman's reaction comical had it not been for the serious nature of their discussion. She sighed once again and shrugged, “But it seems like our incident with Yammy got around to most of the drug lords in the city, we haven't been able to find one since.”

 

Orihime shook her head sadly, “I'm so sorry, I know how badly you wanted to find that Tousen guy.” She offered a half-smile and said, “Do you have any other leads?”

 

Rukia shook her head, “No. Ichigo and I are working on it, continually canvassing, taking in reports, looking up old and similar cases, stuff like that, but we can't seem to find anything.” She growled and ran a hand through her hair, “But at least he hasn't killed again. That's a relief.”

 

Orihime nodded and shuffled her feet from one side to the next. Her eyes glanced to the ground and she whispered, “Not yet.”

 

Rukia blinked once and raised her head to Orihime's. The woman's face was covered in worry, her eyes looked like pools of dramatic concern; there was also the tiny grace of fear in her gaze. A fear that, to Rukia, seemed strange and uncalled for.

 

She removed her shoulder from the wall and narrowed her eyes, “What do you mean, `not yet'?”

 

The examiner continued to shuffle her feet, looking from one end of the room to the other. “I-I'm just saying that… that it might help if you to well, stay out of the limelight for a while.”

 

Rukia frowned, “The limelight? What do you—” she stopped speaking and turned her inquiring eyes into a hard glare. “You think I'm going to be murdered next.”

 

“Murdered is such an ugly word,” Orihime said distantly, looking around the room and staring up at the fluorescent lights. “I prefer killed, it has that nice, hard, `k' sound.”

 

“Whatever,” Rukia snorted, turning around and beginning to pace the room, “Great, thanks for having faith in me.”

 

The medical examiner continued staring at the lights, “Its not that I don't have faith in you,” she said softly, “Its just that I don't think you have superhuman powers that will let you withstand a bullet to the head.”

 

The detective snorted but didn't answer, her surly stance turning even more depressed.

 

Orihime sighed and snapped her mask back into place, “Come,” she said cheerfully—such a different tone from the one she had been using the moment before—beckoning to Rukia. “Hand me a scalpel.”

 

Orihime positioned herself on the other side of the examining table—and thus the other side of the body—before looking up expectantly at Rukia. She smiled through the mask and motioned for her to come over. Begrudgingly, the detective shuffled over and grabbed a tiny scalpel, twirling it in her hands before passing it to Orihime.

 

Rukia watched as Orihime lifted the sheet and began to slice open various parts of the victim, gently moving aside flesh and extracting pieces of—what seemed to be—rusted metal.

 

Rukia's insides squirmed as she thought about the six hundred year old katana that had been shoved into her brother's body.

 

“You should at least stay somewhere safe.”

 

The detective lifted her head, tearing her eyes away from the decapitated body before her. “What?”

 

“Do you have cheese in your ears?” Orihime teased playfully, “I said, you should stay somewhere safe.”

 

Rukia blinked twice, cheese in her what? She shook her head and forgot the impractical comment, turning her attention back to Orihime. “Why would I need to stay somewhere safe?”

 

The woman giggled, “For your birthday, silly.” She cut open another slice of human, “You should stay somewhere safe for your birthday. Maybe just the day before, the day of, and the day after. Just to be sure.” She blinked at Rukia. “Do you have any family around? You wouldn't want to be away from your work all that long I presume?”

 

“You presume correctly,” Rukia said clearly, “But no, I don't have any family around here. Or anywhere for that matter.” She paused for a moment and frowned, “Except for a distant uncle, but he's always sick and in the hospital… at the other end of the country.” She shrugged, “Still sends me cards on holidays though.”

 

Orihime set the scalpel down on the table and cocked her head to the side, “Okay, so we cross him out… What about your friend Renji?”

 

Rukia shook her head, “No, Momo Hinamori moved in with him last month. I wouldn't want to intrude.” She spat disgustedly.

 

Orihime pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You could stay with me. If you wanted to, that is.”

 

Rukia raised her eyebrows to the woman in front of her. “Um, Orihime… I don't want to seem rude, but ah,” she paused and ran a hand through her hair, “Ishida… how often does he stay over? Or… how often do you stay over at his place?”

 

The red-head shifted a piece of hair away from her eyes, “Good point.” She muttered chirpily. “I wouldn't want you to walk in on us…”

 

“Again.” Rukia added dryly.

 

“Yes…” Orihime said, “Again…” she tapped a well-manicured finger to her chin and thought. Rukia didn't really see the point in having her continue, she knew for a fact she wasn't going anywhere the weekend of her birthday. If the enemy wanted to come to her front door, well, that was fine with her, she'd be waiting with a loaded pistol…

 

And some kitchen knives, she thought wickedly.

 

So engrained in their thoughts, neither woman noticed the squeak of the swinging door as it creaked open or the gentle footsteps of the person behind them.

 

Orihime frowned, “Well, you should stay somewhere,” she said softly, “We don't want you to die.”

 

Rukia sighed contentedly and continued staring out into space, “I wouldn't worry about it,” she said, her voice coming out more breezily than expected. “I'm quite prepared.”

 

Orihime raised her head, “But you should still go somewhere sa—oh! Ichigo, good morning!”

 

Rukia's head snapped up immediately and her legs began to back up—it was a reflex now ingrained in her mind, if Ichigo was there, back away, no questions asked. What she hadn't noticed was that Ichigo was standing right behind her; hence she ended up slamming into his hard-as-a-rock chest. Her eyes wide, she tried to move to the side but felt a strong and masculine grip on the upper half of her arm.

 

“Whoa,” Ichigo's wickedly dark voice said from behind, “Steady now.” He pushed her slightly off of his chest but kept his hand to her bicep. “Now, Orihime, what was it you were saying about a place to stay?”

 

Rukia's eyes went wide and she debated whether or not she should shake her head emphatically at the medical examiner, desperately advising her not to say another word to the god now standing behind her. If she did, Orihime might think something was going on and press her to tell her. Then what would happen? Rukia inwardly groaned, she'd be done for. In the end she kept her head still while making a mental note to kill Ichigo when she had the chance.

 

Orihime grinned at Ichigo and clapped her gloved hands together, “Well, Ichigo, I was thinking, since Rukia's birthday is coming up she should stay somewhere other than her house in order for her to be safer. Because you know, if this serial killer knows anything about the people from the two eight—even though she's more like a detective from the three one right now—he would definitely know where she lives. I offered to let her stay at my house, but I'm kind of… occupied with Ishida and she doesn't want to go to Renji's because Momo Hinamori is there and, well… we just don't know what to do!”

 

“I can get a motel,” Rukia said swiftly, feeling the hand on her arm slide away, only to be placed near her jean-encased bottom.

 

“But then how would you be protected?” Orihime whimpered, furrowing her eyes with worry and pouting her bottom lip. “He could follow you!”

 

“He won't, Orihime, I assure you.” Rukia said, bracing her hands on the examining table, only a bit away from the decapitated man. “I can take care of myself.”

 

“So could Matsumoto,” Ichigo said clearly, shrugging one of his shoulders as the other hand casually brushed the base of her ass. Her eyes widened slightly and she felt goose bumps ripple on her skin. “So could Yumichika, so could Nanao, so could your brother for that matter.” His hand slipped into her back pocket. “But they were caught and killed.”

 

Rukia shifted her head to the side and glared at him, “Thanks for the reminder.” She swallowed thickly as she felt Ichigo's fingers arch and become slight claws. He raked them against the inside of pocket and seared the skin underneath.

 

“I'm not trying to remind you,” Ichigo said brusquely as his fingers proceeded to pluck at her clothes and rub against her skin. “I'm merely saying that we need to be careful.”

 

“We?” Rukia demanded, trying to jerk her hips out of the way without Orihime noticing anything suspicious.

 

“You!” The medical examiner cried. She grinned goofily and clapped her hands together. “That's it!” She did a little twirl around herself and giggled. “You can stay with Ichigo!”

 

Rukia's face drained of blood. “I can what?” She asked.

 

Orihime smiled prettily, “You can stay with Ichigo!” Her eyes swept from one detective to the other, noticing that one looked petrified while the other looked intrigued. “He doesn't live with anyone else, he doesn't have any pets—you know, in case you're allergic, he doesn't smoke, and he can protect you! It's perfect!”

 

“No, it's not.” Rukia said, shaking her head emphatically.

 

“Actually,” Ichigo said from behind her, his hand had long ago slipped from her pocket and slid up to the waistline of her jeans, it took all of her resolve for Rukia not to turn tail and run.

 

Or moan.

 

“That does sound like a good idea.” He smiled at Orihime and said, “Nice thinking.”

 

The red-head grinned and turned to talk to Ichigo, “Why don't you talk to the Lou about it? And I'm sure that you can be a gentleman and take the couch if you have only one bed.”

 

Ichigo smiled softly and slipped his hand down Rukia's jeans, under her panties, and teased the smooth skin of her ass. Her eyes widened as he squeezed her cheek hungrily. “Of course I'd be a gentleman.” He smiled down at Rukia and saw the flush in her face. “Aren't I always?”

 

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

 

“I'm not staying with you,” Rukia said sternly as she followed Ichigo out of Orihime's office and up the steps. He remained silent and simply continued walking, not even acknowledging Rukia's all-to-apparent presence behind him.

 

She frowned at him and wondered if he had even heard her. “I'm not.”

 

He didn't say anything else, he just and kept walking, and unless her ears were working improperly, she could swear she was hearing him whistling softly. Rukia's temper flared as she followed him angrily. What was irritating her the most was the fact that she couldn't follow him too closely. Her cheeks flushed as she thought of what might happen should she encroach upon his reach.

 

The past few weeks had been nothing short of sexually frustrating for Rukia, not only had Ichigo kept his “arms-length” promise of touching her whenever he could, but he had been doing it with such aptitude that half of the time Rukia felt like she might concede to her ill-fated desires.

 

His favorite thing he loved to do to her was to sneak up behind her and press a swift kiss onto her neck; she knew that he could see what effect it had on her whenever he did it. A thin shudder would always run down her spine and her cheeks would always heat in a torrential blush.

 

But that wasn't the only thing he did… not by a long shot. Whenever he could, he would touch her lightly on the arm, brush a stray lock of hair from her face, rub his leg against hers, or—on the rare occasions he was actually able to catch her fully—kiss her like there was no tomorrow.

 

He had only been able to do it twice—kiss her that is—since their completely voluntary oral exploration at the docks. The first time he had cornered her immediately after she had gone into break room, pushed her against the copier, and dove down to assault her mouth. She had been so caught by surprise that all she could do was lean against the obdurate machine and moan.

 

He had worked his expert tongue so well that she ended up grappling his shirt and pulling him closer. Not to mention that she just knew, when she felt that upward curl of his lips, he was smirking against her pliant mouth as he coaxed his hand down to squeeze her ass. She had almost given in to him completely when she realized that anyone could choose that exact moment to walk into the room and see what they were doing. That, of course, would result in rumors, embarrassment, and all out humiliation…

 

Either way, Rukia had placed her hands squarely on Ichigo's chest, pushed him away and proceeded to rush out of the break room.

 

However, it later became apparent that Ichigo Kurosaki was a man who did not take rejection in stride, and the second time he had kissed her well… it had been deadlier, hotter, and downright sexier. She had barely been able to escape.

 

It happened after he had driven her home one night from work, he was in the front seat and she was reluctantly sitting in the passenger side. She would have preferred the back—seeing how Ichigo liked to stroke her thigh whenever she sat next to him—but seeing as the back compensated door handles for steel mesh bars, she had decided to sit in the front and swat at his hand whenever it came near.

 

Eerily enough, Ichigo didn't even touch her throughout the ride, he only sat in his seat, smirking like an overindulged child.

 

They had come to her house without a hitch and Rukia immediately bolted out of the car. She took her keys from her pocket and instantly fumbled for the right one. She had almost gotten it when she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, a mouth chuckle beside her ear, and a dark warning slip through Ichigo's lips.

 

“You didn't think you'd get off that easily, did you?”

 

Just like that he had flipped her around and pressed her against the wall; her spine cracked slightly as she banged onto the brick. Ichigo protected the back of her head with his hand but the moment she was pinned to the building he pulled her body flush against his and attacked her mouth with the hunger of a starving man.

 

Rukia didn't even have time to object. He kissed her like he always did: he had such energy and such power fueling his oral assault that her will completely collapsed, her eyes fluttered shut, and her toes curled in her shoes. He used his lips to stroke her mouth, drawing her bottom half into him and sucking so diligently that she couldn't help but open to him.

 

But that wasn't anything compared to what his hands were doing. Hell, she could hardly focus on their mouths when his fingers were doing such pleasurable things to her skin. He had brought his right hand to her waist and grappled her tightly. His fingers pulled out her securely tucked shirt and within seconds he had yanked it out vigorously. The moment she had felt his calloused hands touch the skin directly below her rib cage her eyes dilated and her lungs sucked all of the air completely out of him. He wasted no more time and immediately slid his hand upwards, rubbing his fingers against any part of her skin that he could reach.

 

He kept moving up and up until his thumb ran over her stiffened nipple she jerked against him. Driven by her enticing reaction his entire hand clasped over her breast and began to rub sensually. The friction was unbelievable as he touched her through the silky lace of her thin bra.

 

Rukia felt the wetness pooling inside of her legs as the hardness of Ichigo's erection ground itself against her body. He was pushing against her, gyrating his hips in response to hers, which were jerking mindlessly against him.

 

She felt so helpless when he had her trapped like this. Everything inside of her screamed to let him take her—on her bed, directly on her carpet, or hell, even against this wall. She wanted to drag him upstairs by his cock, throw him down onto the floorboards, and proceed to fuck him senseless on the floor of her foyer. Everything inside was telling her to forget the rules, to live for a day, and to take this God-given opportunity by the horns and ride it until she was complete.

 

She had almost been about to break too; hell, he was rubbing and cupping her breasts—he had started to grope both of them, each of his hands wrecking havoc on her body—with such hunger and ease she had simply wondered how his hands would act if she allowed them access the rest of her body.

 

By that time Ichigo had removed his mouth from hers and was burning a hot trail down the line of her throat, his hands had still not moved from her breasts. In fact, it seemed as if his plan was to suckle her right here, on the side of the street. She had leaned her neck to the side and moaned as his hand rubbed the base of her breast and his fingers slipped inside the silken lace.

 

She didn't remember if she cried his name or not when his thumb deliciously pressed against the hardened tip of her nipple, but something must have echoed off of the walls of the complex. But she did know that she moaned and she kept moaning when his mouth reached her collar bone and his hand caressed her. What he was doing, however, was short lived, only moments later the door beside them clicked, opened slowly, and the elderly owner of her apartment building appeared at the door to blindly peer at them.

 

In less than a second Ichigo was pushed off of her, his body practically rolling down the steps, and Rukia was apologizing to Mr. Shimizu—the nearly-blind landlord who took Rukia's rent each month. She simply hoped that the shriveled old man had been far enough away that he hadn't seen anything.

 

Mr. Shimizu, apparently, hadn't even seen Ichigo grunting up from the concrete sidewalk, rubbing his backside and trying to ease the throbbing in his crotch at the same time. He had simply given Rukia a toothless smile and beckoned her inside the building, telling her that she'd catch a cold if she were out for too long and offering to pour her a cup of sake while he told her stories from his experience in the Second World War.

 

Rukia hadn't even looked back at Ichigo as she raced up the steps, thanked but refused Mr. Shimizu, rushed into her house, and threw her deadbolt into place on her door.

 

It took her seven minutes of leaning and panting against the doorframe for her heart to stop racing, her breasts to stop tingling, and her legs to stop shaking. It took even longer for the hot center between her legs to stop pooling with liquid desire.

 

So much for opportunity.

 

Rukia continued to blush as she followed Ichigo at the established length they had previously agreed upon… well, he had agreed upon it anyway, she hadn't really had any choice in the matter. She could see where he was going now and her face burned at the thought. He was going to talk to Kenpachi. He was going to make him order her to stay with Ichigo for safety's safe.

 

“Ichigo,” she called to him, weaving her way in between multiple desks and telephone wires, “Ichigo, seriously, I'm not going to stay with you. You can't just make me—hey! Are you listening to me? Ichigo… Ichigo!”

 

He was still ignoring her. Ignoring her and her ever rising temper. “Jesus Christ!” She cried, successfully gaining the attention of many people in the precinct, “Would you stop being such a son of a bitch and just listen?”

 

They had reached the lieutenant's office. Ichigo turned his head to the side, grabbed the knob with his right hand, and smirked evilly at her. Rukia's blood heated at the very sight of his arrogant grin and his devilish eyes. Christ he was beautiful…

 

…Not that she was still thinking of things like that. Far from it. She didn't have those thoughts at all.

 

Well, unless she counted the wet dreams she was having with increasing frequency. All of those involved her, completely naked, lying on a precinct desk while Ichigo's head worked furiously between her spread thighs. She shuddered at the thought and wondered if Ichigo had the same thoughts.

 

He must have seen her shiver because in the next moment he drew up his left hand and dropped it squarely on her shoulder, exceedingly close to the neck of her high-cut shirt. Rukia gulped slightly and felt his toughly padded thumb rub the hollow of her throat. He grinned at her and raised one eyebrow. “Just wait here.”

 

With that he jerked the door open, slipped inside, and shut the damn thing before she was even able to protest, much less get inside.

 

“Hey!” She shouted, coming forward swiftly and banging her palm flat against the door as she heard the lock click into place. No one inside answered and she shouted again. She kept on banging her palm against the door until she heard Kenpachi's voice on the other end of the room scream at her to shut up.

 

Grouchily, she leaned her back against the door and waited.

 

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

 

Kenpachi glowered at Ichigo and snarled, “Unless you have something relevant to tell me about the case you're supposed to be working on, I really don't want to hear about it.” He rolled his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I'm mentally preparing myself for my five-year-olds' ballet recital.”

 

Ichigo paused for a moment and tried to imagine his thick-skinned lieutenant sitting at a ballet recital, watching several tiny girls in tutu's prance around a stage like little ponies. The image was almost enough to make him want to either urinate in his pants from laughter or throw up from the horror.

 

He drew in a deep breath and shook his head—anything to get those images out of his brain. “Actually, it's a concern I have about Kuchiki.”

 

“The dead one or the one that's still a pain in the ass?” He asked, sounding as if he was already bored with the conversation.

 

“The pain in the ass,” Ichigo clarified, he inclined his head towards the door and shrugged, “I think she might be the next one on the list.”

 

Kenpachi sighed dramatically and tilted his head, “Why is that?”

 

“Her birthday is January 14th,” Ichigo said, “Her brothers' was the 31st. I'm thinking that the killer wanted to start with a Kuchiki and end with a Kuchiki.” He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. “Other than that, we can't seem to get anything on this guy. We can't pin down any drug dealer that links to the cocaine and the partial shoe print that was found at Nanao's murder… well, Hanatarou said it was a custom made shoe imported all the way from Italy, but we can't track down the maker because it was probably just some guy from a local market in some invisible town in the Alps.” He drew in a breath and paused, “Or something like that…”

 

Kenpachi rolled his eye. “What does that have to do with Kuchiki?”

 

“I want her to be put in some sort of protective custody.” Ichigo said forcefully, knowing that his boss would never agree to what he was asking if he spoke in a pansy voice.

 

Kenpachi let out a chuckle, “Now, let's see, Kurosaki, if we don't even have the man-power to give you some extra help in the serial murder of four police detectives, what makes you think you'd get anymore than the bare minimum?”

 

“I wasn't asking for a police detail and a four star hotel in the country.” He answered nastily, “I'm just thinking that for the day before, the day of, and the day after her birthday, we should keep her under close surveillance.”

 

“And who would be watching her?” The Lou sighed.

 

Ichigo let his mouth warp itself into a sadistic grin. “I would be watching her.”

 

Kenpachi raised his hand and lifted his eye patch, revealing both watchful and piercing eyes. “Now, this wouldn't have anything to do with you groping her all the time, would it?”

 

Ichigo raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”

 

“I'm sure you don't.” Kenpachi smirked and sighed. “Listen Kurosaki, I can see it plain as day that you two have a little thing for each other.” He gave him a hard look. “But if you want to make me tell her to stay at your place so she can be—what was the word you used?—oh yeah… safe, then you're going to have to swear to me that you'll keep any and all parts of your body off of hers.”

 

Ichigo blinked at his boss and titled his head to the side, “What if she doesn't want me to keep my body parts to myself?”

 

Kenpachi replaced the eye patch and shrugged, “Then by all means.” He sighed and stood from his desk. “I gotta go; I need to get ready for a very abridged version of Swan Lake.”

 

Ichigo recoiled and shuddered visibly. “I feel extremely sorry for you.”

 

Kenpachi groaned, “I just want to see if I can actually make it through the performance without killing myself.”

 

Ichigo shrugged a bit and nodded towards his boss, “But can you tell Kuchiki before you go to the, ah, performance?”

 

Kenpachi glanced at Ichigo when he jiggled the locked doorknob. He simply shrugged at his boss and indicated to the other side. Kenpachi sighed and swung the door open. He immediately moved to the side as Rukia's leaning body stumbled into the office. She yelped a bit and cursed some more but managed to straighten before she fell completely to the ground.

 

“Kuchiki,” the Lou said in a cool greeting.

 

She brushed off her pants and breathed heavily, “Good… morning.” She said briskly, clearing her throat and shaking some hair from her face. She was ready to speak when she glanced over to her side and checked her distance from Ichigo. He smirked at her and quirked one of those sexy eyebrows up nearer to his hairline. Rukia suppressed a shudder that ran through her spine as she forced herself to look back at her pseudo-boss.

 

“Kenpachi,” she said swiftly, stepping forward a bit to give her words more power, “I just wanted to tell you that—”

 

The lieutenant shook his head and cut her off before she could even get started. He looked from Ichigo to his partner and said, “I agree with Kurosaki, Detective Kuchiki, you're staying at his house. Three days. The day before, of, and after your birthday. You'll be under constant surveillance so I don't want you coming into work or doing anything remotely resembling police work.”

 

Rukia's eyes widened with each work that came out of Kenpachi's mouth and when her eyes became too large her mouth took up the rest of the work.

 

“W-What?” She sputtered. “But I—you can't—no!”

 

Kenpachi smirked and shook his head, “Yes, actually, I can, and yes, you will. No discussions.” He raised an eyebrow and snickered. “But don't worry, Kurosaki promised to be a gentleman.”

 

He grinned from Rukia to Ichigo and then nodded at them both. “Now, if you'll excuse me… I need to go and see a certain Princess Odette.”

 

He left the room in a dead silence, leaving the oak fixture slightly ajar. Rukia stood, gaping, as her boss exited the precinct. Her breath was coming out in short pants and her heart rate accelerated until she felt it pounding inside of her chest.

 

“Oh… God…” she groaned, placing a hand on her forehead and closing her eyes as if in pain. “Shit… shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…”

 

Ichigo raised his eyebrows and scooted a bit closer to her. “Are you finished?”

 

Her head jerked up and she immediately noticed his proximity, her body jolted away from his and she swallowed heavily. “I can't believe you did that.”

 

Ichigo sighed and shook his head. He took two heavy steps towards her and planted himself directly above her upturned face. He knew that he could reach out and touch her at the moment but right now… right now he needed to make this clear to her.

 

“Let me put it this way Rukia,” he said plainly, “I would rather have you alive and well at my house for three days, while I suffered through near constant erections, than have you lying dead on your floor, a bullet in your brain.”

 

Rukia sucked in her breath and backed away from him slowly. “You've got to promise… you've got to promise me…”

 

Ichigo sighed and shook his head softly, “I swore to the Lou that I'd keep any part of my body off of you… but only if you wanted me to.”

Rukia felt an iron hand clench around her stomach. She swallowed convulsively and tried to open her mouth to speak.

 

Her mind was screaming that what he swore to the Lou was what he would swear to her as well, but her mouth… Jesus, her mouth. It was forming words it had no business forming in the first place. She didn't want to become intimate with Ichigo… she needed the distance… she needed… she needed…

 

She needed to feel him pushing into her, consuming her, touching her breasts, squeezing her thighs, and biting her neck.

 

“I—I—” she sputtered, her hand rising to be placed on her battered heart.

 

She began to breathe harshly and was surprised when Ichigo came forward, only to press his hands onto her shoulders and whisper. “You don't have to have an answer Rukia. Never an answer… just desire. Because I know you feel it too.”

 

He offered her a small smile and leaned down, softly, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and sighed.

 

As he exited the office, Rukia could feel her muddled insides begin to heat and curl. In truth, she wasn't exactly sure what it was she desired.