Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Living Outside the Line ( Chapter 12 )

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

 

(A/N: Hey guys, I'm really sorry I haven't updated for a while. This has been a really shitty week so I haven't gotten to write very much. Life sucks.

Anyway, keep in mind that this chapter is 27 pages long and ha! I did not shorten it! Yay for me.

ATTENTION: This chapter contains (my very best) lemon (so far, if I do say so myself.) Just keep that in mind.

ENJOY AND REVIEW!!!)

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

Rukia's phone rang beside her and she immediately picked it up. “Kuchiki.” She answered in her sharp, perfunctory, voice.

 

“Hey,” it was Renji. “How's it going?”

 

Rukia sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes swept the room for a moment, searching for an orange head of hair, but she saw nothing. Shrugging, her attention returned to the phone. “Nothing at the moment. You?”

 

“Paperwork.”

 

“Joy.” She answered blandly, not really in the mood to engage in a witty conversation with her friend. Well… as witty as Renji could be anyway.

 

There was a pause on the line, “So… where are you going tonight?”

 

Rukia immediately felt her cheeks heat and her mouth go dry. Quickly, she glanced around the precinct room and saw everyone else minding their own business. She leaned forward a bit in her chair and placed the phone closer to her ear. “You know where I'm going tonight. No doubt Orihime told Ishida and Ishida told everyone in the two eight.”

 

There was another pause, “Yeah… yeah he did. Are you sure you're okay with it?”

 

Rukia swallowed heavily and nodded, even though Renji couldn't see it through the telephone line. “Yeah… we—he—promised to be a gentleman.”

 

“Wait,” he asked immediately, “A gentleman? Has he not been one so far?” The anger was growing in his voice and she could hear it quickening.

 

“Renji!” Rukia barked, “Shut up or I hang up.” Her threat lingered in the air as she sighed and rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “Just don't worry about it, okay? I'll be fine.”

 

“I know you will,” Renji said, his voice laced with warning, “Just make sure that he keeps his distance, okay?”

 

A heated sensation curled in the pit of Rukia's stomach and she felt a groan try and escape her throat. Great… just great… once again, she was glad that Renji was miles away and not sitting beside her, lest he see her blushing face and glazed eyes.

 

“Rukia?”

 

She cleared her throat and sighed, “Yeah, Renji, I'll make sure he keeps away.”

 

“Good,” he said, the warning lessening in his tone, “Alright, I gotta go, but I'll see you later alright?”

 

“Right,” she sighed, hoping she didn't sound too dejected, “See you later.”

 

The phone clicked off and left the female detective with a dial tone searing the inside of her ear. She set it down gingerly and ended up crossing her arms on her desk, her neck lolling to the side of her head. She felt the gentle crick and sighed at it… when had she gotten the crick anyway? She had barely been sleeping; the damn annoyance shouldn't have been there at all.

 

Maybe I got it from when I fell asleep on my computer keyboard. She thought bemusedly. Oh well…

 

She heard heavy footsteps plodding around the precinct and didn't even have to look up to know that they belonged to the captain.

 

Three… two… one…

 

“Kuchiki!”

 

Rukia winced as her name resounded in the precinct and the captain began his thunderous walk towards her. God, didn't he have anything better to do than harass her about her upcoming stay at Kurosaki's apartment?

 

“Yes captain?” She asked, turning around in her seat and glowering.

 

“Where's Kurosaki? Your protective custody thing starts now!” Kenpachi growled, placing a meaty hand on her desk and grasping a pencil. He flicked it up in his fingers and began to tap it viciously against her desk.

 

Rukia glared at him—she was actually one of the only two people who could actually look Kenpachi in the eye without cowering; to be able to glower at him was a talent indeed. “I don't know where he is,” she said roughly, “But if you would actually come to your senses and call this thing off… I might find him just for you.” She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What do you say?”

 

Kenpachi grinned evilly, “I say…” he paused for a moment, as if teasing her just to torment her, “Forget it Kuchiki, you're staying with Kurosaki.”

 

Her pencil splintered on her desk and she didn't even take a moment to look. Kenpachi released the shards of pencil and smirked again, “You know something Kuchiki… you're too tense.”

 

“Don't you even finish that sentence,” she warned threateningly. “Not another word. I am not going to sleep with him.”

 

Kenpachi threw his head back and roared in laughter. Still sitting, Rukia glared at him and frowned. “What are you laughing at?” She demanded harshly.

 

Kenpachi simply shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, his mouth going into that ridiculously annoying smile… again. With another chuckle, her lieutenant bent down and situated his face so they were practically nose to nose. “I was going to suggest a bubble bath, who said anything about sleeping with him?”

 

Rukia's face flamed instantly.

 

Kenpachi cocked his head to the side and snickered, Rukia wondered if this was how he had once gotten perp after perp to confess. It sure as hell was working on her. “Got sex on the brain, Kuchiki?”

 

Rukia sputtered, “I-I… um…”

 

“Kenpachi!”

 

Ichigo… Rukia thought, a relieved feeling whooshing through her body.

 

Wait… relieved?

 

Ichigo strode over to his desk—now occupied by Rukia and the overly-large Kenpachi—and frowned at his boss. He cross his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, “Harassing my partner, lieutenant?”

 

“Not anymore than usual detective,” Kenpachi chuckled. He raised his hand from Rukia's desk and shrugged, “You two should get out of here, detail starts at seven.”

 

“Yes sir.” Ichigo muttered coldly, he flicked his eyes over his partner and then looked away. “Come on. We gotta get going.”

 

She nodded and got up from her chair, feeling her legs weakly shake beneath her. Christ… she thought wretchedly, they had better not see.

 

She made up for the trembling in her legs by allowing her stronger arms to wrap her coat around her body. She zipped it up slowly and reached down to the base of the desk. She had situated a gym bag there in the morning, it had everything she needed—clothes, personals, and a few books. God knew she would need something to distract herself while living at Ichigo's for three days.

 

Well, something to distract herself from his cut and golden body. Deftly, Rukia swallowed, wondering what the hell she was going to do if she caught him coming out of the shower, dripping wet with only a flimsy towel wrapped around his waist. For a moment, she wondered if he had a six pack.

 

Definitely, she told herself, there was nothing but muscle every time I leaned against him.

 

Ichigo turned his head towards her, she noticed that his eyes lingered on her face and she wondered if she could see the blush staining her cheeks. She shook her head to make sure there was a bit of hair covering her face and heaved the bag over her shoulder. A slight grunt escaped her lips and Ichigo raised his gaze to his face, “Need some help?” He asked, his voice was empty, bored almost.

 

“No thanks,” Rukia answered immediately, slightly thrown off by the cold tone of his voice. He hadn't talked to her like that since well… since she had first come to the three one.

 

Not that she cared anyway, she amended quickly.

 

“Come on,” Ichigo said, indicating towards the door, “We better get going.”

 

“Right,” she said, sighing softly, her conversation with Renji pounding into her head. “Let's go.”

 

They headed towards the precinct exit and had to deal with numerous snickers, suggestive looks, and tiny catcalls. Rukia ignored them while Ichigo stared down each person daring enough to actually look him in the eye.

 

“Just forget it,” Rukia told him shortly.

 

Ichigo's head turned towards her and he sighed, Rukia was still heading outside, her tote in her hand.

 

Ichigo wondered if she had a negligee in that bag.

 

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

 

“Here we are.” Ichigo said blandly, opening the door to his apartment and walking inside. Rukia watched as his back retreated into his home. His motions seemed practiced and easy as he slipped his coat off of his shoulders, threw it onto the back of a nearby chair, he tossed his key onto a table next to a couch. Rukia raised her eyebrows as she noticed the color of the tasteful couch, a lovely navy color instead of the tacky plaid she had imagined.

 

Actually, his entire apartment wasn't what she imagined. The walls were a creamy beige color covered with framed posters of strange rock bands whose glory days appeared to be about twenty years ago. Along with the navy couch there was a table with wrought iron legs and a glass top. A modest television graced the center of the opposite wall and a pile of movies sat underneath it. Rukia tried to see what a few of the titles were and wondered briefly if The Saint was one of them.

 

“Come on, there's no poisonous mold or anything in here.” He said curtly.

 

Rukia frowned at him and kept moving inside, shifting her bag so it wouldn't hit her knees. “Fine.” Her voice was just as cold as his but unlike his, hers was forced. It was actually kind of amusing to be inside of Ichigo's house—seeing where he lived and how. She just didn't know why he was being so frigid about it.

 

She took another step inside of his apartment and drew in a deep breath. His scent was everywhere, that toxic and amazing aroma that only Ichigo seemed to have. She paused for a minute just to let it soak into her clothes and seep into her skin. Christ, when she left she was going to be coated in his scent.

 

“Hungry?”

 

Rukia opened her eyes and saw Ichigo staring at her. Wait, when had she closed her own eyes? Was she that out of it? Rukia blinked twice and shook her head. “No, I'm not that hungry.”

 

Ichigo nodded just as slowly, his cold eyes sweeping her body as she simply stood there.

 

Rukia could feel her heart thudding in her chest now. Renji's words were fading into the back of her head as she stared at him. He was wearing butter soft jeans that hugged every muscle of his toned legs and a tight cotton shirt that was practically vacuumed to his chest; she could even see his washboard abdomen through the thin material.

 

Oh no… she thought softly, feeling the heat rush up into her face.

 

Ichigo was studying her closely now, his gaze sweeping across every inch of her frame. She could see it. She could see how hungry he was.

 

She could also see anger. She could see frustration. She could see hurt.

 

What was he going to do? Rukia's heart began to thud as he continued to watch her. His eyes were hot and glowing and he looked like he was ready to pounce, muscles coiled underneath his shirt as his pulse ticked in his throat. She could see everything now. Everything that he was that made him dangerous.

 

And she wanted it.

 

The tension in the room wouldn't have been cut with a chainsaw. Rukia knew that he could see how red her face was. She knew that he could sense how warm and excited she was. She knew because she could see it on his face as well.

 

Ichigo was the first to look away; he broke eye contact with her and immediately cleared his throat.

 

“Um, the shower is down the hall to the left, I'll get an extra towel if you need one and the kitchen has some leftovers in it so… feel free to have any of those. I'm just… just going to take a shower and go… to bed.”

 

Rukia nodded and shifted her feet, suddenly noticing the dampness of her panties. “Alright… I'll probably… um, wait, where am I going to sleep?”

 

Ichigo's eyes flashed darkly and he blinked once, “My bed.”

 

Her heart almost stopped, “W-what?”

 

He turned his head away and drew in a deep breath. “And—and I'll sleep on the couch, don't worry. I'm keeping my word.” He scoffed and turned around. “The line, remember? Just put your stuff wherever you want. It doesn't matter to me.”

 

Rukia's breathing was still uneven as she watched Ichigo' retreating form.

 

“Fuck,” she whispered softly, “This can't be happening.”

 

After months, months, of rejecting him over and over again suddenly she wanted him? She wanted him now? This was impossible, this was unjust, and this was simply unethical. Not to mention it was completely unfair to Ichigo.

 

Ichigo who was… who was… who was being so cold and distant to her.

 

Rukia continued to contemplate the utmost worst turn in her life so far as she strode around Ichigo's rather spacious apartment.

 

It was almost the opposite of what she had imagined it would be. There was absolutely no tacky furniture, no obscene magazines littering the floor, and the floors were actually… clean. Rukia absentmindedly ran her fingers over a small bureau and stared at the tips in amazement, not a single speck of dust.

 

Either Ichigo is a closet neat freak or he employs a maid, she thought wonderingly, no man I've ever known ever kept his house this clean.

 

She heard the shower turn on in the distance and glanced over to the sound. Ichigo would be in there… naked.

 

Rukia shook her head fervently as soon as she felt the thudding inside of her chest. Christ, it had to be his scent, she told herself in futility. It just had to be. It was everywhere, surrounding her, drowning her, making her want to have that scent lodged deep within her.

 

A small whimper escaped from Rukia's throat as she kept moving through the house, her hands clenching and unclenching from the bag they were holding. She'd have to burn all of these clothes when she went back to her house. She'd have to peel off her own skin just to get the smell of Ichigo off of her.

 

If she wanted to, that is.

 

“Come on Kuchiki,” she muttered halfheartedly, “Pull yourself together.”

 

She kept going through the house and wandered into the kitchen. There was a nice stove—it actually looked used unlike hers, a stainless steel refrigerator, and a microwave. Rukia peeked into the fridge and almost salivated at the amount of food she saw available to her. Everything was pre-made so all she would really have to do is stick it in the microwave or in a pot to cook. Rukia shrugged and felt slightly impressed; not only could Ichigo cook but he was smart enough to have pre-made meals, unlike her, she simply ate saltines whenever she was in danger of fainting.

 

Going to have to try one of these later. She mused, skimming her fingers over the lids.

 

The shower was still running and Rukia wondered just what he was doing in there. She imagined Ichigo, his skin steaming in the hot air, as he rested his head against the wall and let the boiling water run over his tense body.

 

Suddenly… she wanted to join him.

 

Rukia barged out of the kitchen and went directly into his bedroom—or what she assumed was his bedroom. The moment she entered she knew it was his… his scent was the strongest right there.

 

She flipped on the light and stared directly into the place she would be sleeping tonight.

 

“Christ.” She muttered, her eyes glued to the unmade bed in the center of the room. She had to close her eyes and shake her head before she imagined their naked bodies together, moving together sensually, and throwing the sheets off even more.

 

I can't sleep here tonight. She thought desperately. I just can't.

 

She heard the shower going off in the distance. Rukia could feel herself shaking even though she was willing herself to stop. She couldn't be doing this… she really couldn't… not now, not now…

 

The door to the bathroom opened and Rukia heard Ichigo come out. She swiveled her head around and saw him. Still dripping wet, hand clutching a towel at his waist, his golden body shining in the fluorescent lights. Rukia's eyes traveled down his defined abdomen and then saw the small trail of light hair going down… down… down…

 

“Rukia?” His voice was serious. Strangled. His eyes were intense and heavy but his voice… oh Christ…

 

She was breathing harshly now, her chest was throbbing up and down at the sight of him and his eyes, she couldn't seem to look away.

 

“Ichigo…” she murmured, raising her hands slightly and backing away a bit. “I—I'm going to sleep on the… on the couch…”

 

She saw him swallow and she could even swear that she could see his heart thudding directly inside of his chest.

 

He nodded softly and swallowed hard. “Are you… are you sure?”

 

“Yeah.” She whispered, “Yeah, I am.”

 

“Because I can stay… there… tonight.” It was becoming difficult for him to talk, Rukia noticed softly; it was becoming hard for her too.

 

“No,” she was backing away from him steadily now, she was going back to the living room, away from him. “I'd rather stay on the… couch.”

 

Ichigo nodded and began to sidle towards his room. Rukia's eyes were trapped on his as they continued their dangerous dance around one another. Finally, his body hit the frame to his door and he stopped; it took everything Rukia had to tear her gaze away from his just so she could go towards the couch.

 

Wobbly, she worked her legs into the living room and sat down on the couch. Desperately, she dropped her head between her hands and pressed her throbbing temples with her fingers.

 

Still trembling, Rukia lay down on her side—not even bothering to change her clothing—and faced the soft back.

 

She could feel the throbbing between her legs.

 

She could feel the dampness in her panties.

 

She could feel the desire raging through her blood.

 

Rukia Kuchiki pressed her face into the couch and did not fall asleep.

 

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

 

Ichigo jerked awake.

 

His head was pounding and his heart was throbbing painfully. Christ, not another dream, not another fucking dream! He groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead, wondering if his head was splitting open or if it was just him.

 

Need… drugs… he bemoaned mentally, trying to push the images of a dead Rukia out of his head.

 

Ichigo rose from his bed and shakily made his way to the kitchen, his boxer shorts rubbed against his legs as he realize that he was sweating everywhere, so much so that his clothing was sticking to his skin. He swallowed painfully and reached up to highest cabinet in his kitchen, it was where he kept his pharmacy of pain, headache, and muscle medication, groaning, he pulled it down and silently cursed Yuzu for having children who liked to get into anything their hands could pull down.

 

Ichigo drew a glass of water next, his head still making that horrible, throbbing sensation. Quickly, he swallowed the two pills and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. These would work, they would.

 

Now to the other matter: Rukia.

 

Ichigo swiveled his head and glanced at the clock hanging near his kitchen table and cursed loudly when it showed it was only three in the morning. Damn these persistent dreams, they kept him up almost every night with no regard to the fact that he actually needed to work.

 

Work. That's right, he remembered suddenly, right now Rukia is my work.

 

Quietly, so he wouldn't make any more noise than was necessary, Ichigo sidled into the living room. It took his eyes another minute to adjust to the intense darkness but once they had he saw her. Rukia was lying on her side, her legs curled to the side and her face supported by one of her hands, her eyes were closed and—

 

No… her eyes were open. Her eyes were open even though she wasn't staring at anything. Ichigo's heart pounded inside of his chest when his gaze traveled to her head. He could see it, directly above her left temple, a single bullet hole, blood oozing out of the open wound.

 

He blinked, his heart still racing beyond belief, slowly, shakily, he reached down and touched her cheek. The flesh was warm. Her face was pink.

 

But suddenly, there was no bullet hole, there was no blood, there was no lifeless body before him. Rukia was alive, she was breathing, and she was here.

 

Ichigo swallowed fitfully as his thumb traced the edges of her cheek and her lips. Just a dream. He needed to stop having these dreams. These horrid dreams where Rukia was dead and he had let it happen. These dreams that were beginning to scare him more than anything ever had in his life.

 

“Rukia…” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her skin was soft. Softer than anything he had ever felt before. Everything about her was soft.

 

Her eyelids fluttered and she stirred slightly; a small mumble escaped her lips and a warm smile crossed Ichigo's face. She looked so beautiful when she was asleep. Every muscle in her face was relaxed, her mouth was content and curled into something resembling a smile, and each one of her limbs was pliant enough so he could touch her without her truly waking up.

 

She looked like an angel.

 

Ichigo smiled softly and grimaced as the remnants of his nightmare fled from his mind. “Rukia…” he said again, his voice coming out strangled and weak in the early morning hours. “You can't die.”

 

Before him, Rukia shivered softly, it was then that he realized she was still completely clothed. Ichigo grimaced and brought his hand out to sweep the rest of her hair out of her face, exposing her delicate ear to his eyes.

 

It's because of me. He thought softly, wondering just what she would do if he chose to wake her up right now. Half of him wanted to see her big, beautiful eyes open before him and stare at him as though she were staring into his soul. He wanted to feel her soft and pliant body against his. He wanted her… only her.

 

Sighing, Ichigo rose from the couch and reached over to a nearby chair, as he spread the blanket overtop of Rukia he watched her face for any trace of movement. He pulled the sheet to her shoulders and saw her sigh with relief, her eyes fluttered once again and her lips curled slightly—not enough to be a complete smile but close enough for him.

 

Once the blanket was secure he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to her velveteen cheek. She stirred a bit more but did not awaken. Ichigo sighed and decided to sit on the opposite side of the couch, he wasn't going to get anymore sleep tonight, and he definitely was not leaving her side.

 

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

 

The moment Rukia woke up she noticed something was wrong. She didn't know exactly what it was, but she just knew it wasn't right. At first she wondered if it was her surroundings. She didn't truly recognize where she was, and she most certainly didn't recognize the navy fabric in front of her face or the red and black afghan that was covering most of her body. The second thing she didn't recognize was the hand that was protectively wrapped around her bare ankle.

 

Rukia blinked her eyes and drearily waiting for the sleep to drain itself out of her body, deciding that she'd handle these things one at a time.

 

Memories of the previous day flooded through her mind and she swallowed nervously when she realized where she was. She remembered her night exploring Ichigo's home, seeing him coming out of the shower, letting her hungry eyes explore every inch of his god-like body, feeling herself growing wet with desire, and practically sprinting to the couch in an effort to escape the new and forbidden sensations coursing through her body.

 

Rukia knew where she was and she most definitely knew what had put her there. But as for the second thing, the warm substance gripping her ankle, she didn't know. Gingerly, she lifted her head—which was suffering from a small crick—and glanced down the red and black afghan to the thing that was holding onto her foot as if for dear life.

 

Her eyes widened when she saw Ichigo sitting at the other end of the couch. He was dressed in a pair of boxers and nothing else, his chest bare to her inquisitive gaze and his modesty lowered until it was almost deleted. He was leaning to the side, his head was propped up by his arm which was resting on the side of the couch, he seemed to have fallen asleep unwillingly but that didn't stop his other hand from tightening its grip on her foot. She blinked twice before raising her body onto her elbow and stretching out all of the kinks along her spine. She watched as the afghan dropped from her shoulders and realized with a blush that he must have put it there.

 

Gently, she tweaked her foot and observed him as he woke up. To her disappointment, he did not stir slowly or even clench his eyes in order to savor a minute more of sleep. Instead, he jerked awake immediately, a wild look entering his eyes while his hand gripped her foot even tighter. His body looked ready and tense and a frown was upon his face almost instantly.

 

A surge of fear entered Rukia's heart and she called his name, willing him to stop looking so terrified.

 

The moment she called for him his head swiveled towards her and those wild eyes fastened onto her. She must have had panic written in her face because the minute he saw her, the wildness of his eyes lessened and his breathing—which had been so frantic before—evened out.

 

“Rukia…” he whispered, his hand releasing her foot immediately and running it through his hair. “Um… h-how are you?”

 

Rukia blinked, her mind still lingering on what she had seen in Ichigo's eyes. He had looked so… scared.

 

“I'm fine.” She said softly, rising up even further on her elbows. She paused for a moment before adding. “Are you alright?”

 

Ichigo cleared his throat and nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah… it was nothing… just a bad dream.”

 

Rukia's foot slipped from his view to back underneath the afghan. She noticed how his eyes followed her movements as she sat up. She swallowed and tried to forget that he was sitting there in only a pair of boxers.

 

She coughed lightly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Ichigo shook his head immediately and sighed, “No… that's okay.” He turned his head towards her and attempted to smile warmly. “Yeah… so…”

 

“So…” Rukia added, she swallowed nervously and suddenly hated the silence that was between them.

 

Ichigo coughed and rose from the couch, his muscular body twisting and tensing with his movements, it took all of what Rukia had just not to gawk at him.

 

“Well,” he said softly, “You are my guest and your birthday is tomorrow, so I guess I should be nice to you today… so I'm going to go make something for breakfast while you go soak in the bath.”

 

Rukia nodded to him but drew her knees to her chest and said, “I don't take baths, I take showers.”

 

Ichigo looked back at her with the dark eyes she had come to associate with desire. A shiver ran through Rukia's spine as he stared at her. Christ, she thought helplessly, one look and I'm turned into gelatin.

 

He turned and made his way into his room. “I don't mind,” he said softly opening his door and staring inside, “Either way.”

 

Rukia released her pent up breath the instant he went inside of his room. She stayed on the couch for a few more minutes before shakily grabbing her gym bag and going into the bathroom.

 

She closed the door quietly behind her and made sure that she couldn't hear the sounds of Ichigo dressed in the adjacent room. Silently, she turned on the shower and disrobed. The moment she was naked and standing in the center of Ichigo's bathroom she knew what he had been picturing in those moments he had been staring at her.

 

Rukia gingerly stepped into the shower and let the hot water douse her entire body.

 

She wondered what Ichigo would do if he was in here with her.

 

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

 

Rukia didn't remember much of what her day with Ichigo was like. It was largely separated in her mind to the moment she had or didn't have with Ichigo Kurosaki.

 

As much as she would have wanted to be closer to him she was determined to keep her distance. Yet, there were two problems with that, the first one being that she actually wanted to be around Ichigo—after all, this was his house and he was letting her stay here, albeit it was a command from his boss—but whenever she was close to him, rampaging thoughts of desire immediately clouded her brain, making her wonder if he would mind if she jumped him directly in his hallway. Rukia likened it to attempting to get away from annoying cousin who worshipped the ground you walked on. Except Ichigo wasn't her cousin and she most definitely didn't want to get away from him.

 

The second problem was the fact that Ichigo was just… there. Rukia ended up wondering whether or not she would develop claustrophobia just from being in his apartment. Wherever she turned, whenever she turned, he was always there. He was either standing in the kitchen cooking some heavenly food—then putting it in Tupperware so he could eat it later—or straightening up his room or even flipping through papers dealing with work.

 

Rukia wished she could confine herself to just one area of his apartment that wouldn't have him in it. If she could just stay in that one space and not see him she actually might be able to escape this weekend unharmed.

 

Except he was everywhere. Wherever she looked she saw a glimpse of his orange hair or a section of his toned legs. Not to mention his scent was in every area of his apartment. She couldn't go anywhere without smelling his enticing aroma.

 

After lunch on the first day she had attempted to sneak out into the hallway to breathe in some air that didn't have Ichigo's insane scent in it, but he heard the door opening and was immediately at her side, shoving the door closed and relocking it.

 

“Ah ah…” he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, “You're not going anywhere.”

 

Rukia groaned and leaned her head against the door, “Just for a minute?” She asked, “Please? I just want some fresh air.”

 

“Open a window,” was his immediate answer, he smirked and turned around, going back into the kitchen to do the dishes.

 

Rukia had whined inwardly at first but later found out she didn't mind as much as she thought she would. In fact... she was beginning to wonder whether or not she would be able to live without his smell when she returned to her home.

 

And he could cook, and cook well for that matter, Rukia was still having difficulty believing it. She had simply never thought of Ichigo as the cooking type. She herself couldn't even remember the last time she had had an actual meal that didn't involve something instant or microwavable. She savored every bite of the delicious food and almost contemplated asking Ichigo the recipes he was using, but then thought better of it. She couldn't even boil water without turning it into mud, let alone cook actual food.

 

After lunch she was truly at a loss for what to do. Through most of the morning she had simply locked herself in the bathroom, soaking and resting in the bathtub (she had given into temptation and finally decided to take one.) She couldn't even remember the last time she had taken a bath… Christ it must have been ages ago. Well, back when she wasn't so preoccupied with murders and serial killers that is.

 

But honestly, what could she do—trapped here at Ichigo's apartment as she was? Luckily, Ichigo had an answer for that as well. He came out to the living room directly after lunch and immediately presented her with a stack of paperwork and a couple of movies.

 

For the past couple of months, the Lou had given them some slack on the Birthday Basher case and had allowed them—much to Rukia's chagrin—to begin working on other cases. They were mostly small and easily solved cases, which still left them room to work on their original one but Rukia knew that she couldn't be satisfied until her brother's killer was found, no matter how many other cases Kenpachi shoved down her throat.

 

“I know the Lou told you not to do anything resembling work but I also thought you'd be bored stiff if you weren't doing something like work.”

 

Rukia could have kissed him for that, well, had she not been on an anti-Ichigo path at the moment. Instead, she grabbed the papers and made a beeline for the couch. Ichigo grinned and handed her a pen, flopping down beside her and grabbing the remote.

 

Rukia frowned softly and peered over at Ichigo. “Are you really going to watch television while I sit here and do work?”

 

Ichigo looked over at her and grinned, “Well, it is the weekend and I am completely bored so—”

 

“Do some paperwork.” She finished as she tossed him a folder filled with un-filed papers at him; he caught them deftly but set them on the couch cushion beside his body. She glared at him and added acidly, “It's more productive than television.”

 

“But not as entertaining.” He replied smartly, flipping on the television and rummaging through a few DVD's he had next to him. He glanced over at Rukia and grinned, “So, do you want to watch The Saint?”

 

Rukia glared at him for a full three minutes and was amazed when he actually stared back with stark fortitude. She sighed softly before she leaned back into the couch cushions, “Put it in.”

 

Ichigo grinned and nodded, “Just make sure you pay close attention to the river scene.”

 

“I didn't say I'd watch it.” She said instantaneously, “Just that you could put it in. I'll be doing paperwork.”

 

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

 

Ichigo flipped off the television screen and glanced over at Rukia. She was staring at the blank screen, her mouth slightly open and her eyes screwed into a frown. A smile curled onto his mouth as he continued to watch her reaction.

 

She turned to him after a moment and stared at him with such a look of utter disbelief that it was almost laughable.

 

“Ichigo…” she said after a moment of silence, he leaned towards her a bit and edged his eyebrow up, intently listening to each of her words. Rukia bit her lip and grimaced softly, “Now you know the reason why I do not watch that many movies.”

 

Ichigo chuckled softly and shook his head, “Come on Rukia, that movie's a classic.”

 

“No see, Casablanca is a classic, The Sound of Music is a classic, what you just put in front of me is a… a… movie.”

 

“You're just too limited in your scope of movies,” he told her, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen.

 

“What are you doing?” Rukia called after him, picking up the papers she had disregarded after the start of the movie, grouchily, she realized she had only gotten three pages—out of about fifty—completed.

 

“I'm going to make dinner,” he said from the room, “I know it's early but really, what else do we have to do?”

 

Rukia nodded, “Point taken.”

 

“I'll make sure it takes a while to cook.” He said as he went into the kitchen.

 

Rukia watched him go, staring at his ass the entire time.

 

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

 

Dinner that night was chicken parmesan. Ichigo knew he shouldn't have made it, but he did and he simply had to suffer the consequences of watching her eat—again.

 

She must have known he was watching her because with every movement she made his eyes were cataloguing into his memory. The delicate slip of a noodle between her lips, a spot of sauce on her chin he was simply dying to lick away, and a string of cheese that didn't leave the edge of her fork. She just didn't know what this day had been for him. But he knew, he knew it all too well.

 

It was fucking torture.

 

Torture.

 

He doubted she knew why he spent such a long time in the shower last night, or why he was trying to keep his distance from her, or even why he was spending so much time in the kitchen. He was simply trying to stay far enough away that he wouldn't be suffering through erections lasting twenty four hours a day.

 

Well there's something good, Ichigo grumbled mentally, I'll never need Viagra with boners like these.

 

Watching her as she ate made things even worse. He was even wondering whether or not he would have to go back into the shower and relieve himself.

 

She just didn't realize what her presence did to him. Every move she made was an exertion of pure, sexual, motion. And now she was sitting next to him, he could smell her from the other side of the couch. Fresh and lively and edible.

 

She just looked so cute on his couch, draped in that overly large shirt and tiny pair of boxer shorts, which she had donned shortly after her latest shower. He had no idea that she would ever look so good in something so mediocre. Her hair was still wet and her skin glistened warmly. She was a healthy tinge of pink and her eyes were large… wet… and staring placidly at the television. And her lips… her lips looked so inviting. She would occasionally run her tongue over the edges, rewetting them on this cold January night. He remembered their taste—it felt like eternity since he had sampled their delicious flavor. His breathing became shorter as he continued to stare at her, he had never remembered wanting anything this badly. She was too perfect to look at, yet she was a forbidden fruit, and she had told him she wanted nothing to do with… with… him.

 

The line, he told himself disgustedly. The fucking line that was keeping him away from her. That line that she said had to remain between them in order to… to…

 

Absentmindedly, Rukia scratched an itch on her ribcage, directly beneath her breast, which, to his knowledge, was not trapped by any type of undergarment. Her knuckles brushed it almost against their will and then retreated back into her lap.

 

Ichigo did not know how it happened. He truly did not know how one moment he had been sitting on the opposite end of the couch, adoring every inch of Rukia Kuchiki's body, trying to control his powerful lust for her—not to mention his erection—while the next moment his right hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her lips towards his, while his left hand clamped immediately onto her breast. She was only able to let go of a startled yelp before Ichigo covered her mouth, his hot breath seared her skin and she gasped at the intensity.

 

Her gasp soon turned into a belying whimper as his thumb passed roughly across the top of her breast, searing the nipple with his heated skin. She jerked against his touch and his body immediately moved to press her back into the soft fabric of the couch. The hand at the back of her neck moved up and gripped her black locks tightly as he tilted her head so he was directly above her. Her heat was electrifying—it was exciting him and terrifying him at the same time, but he knew that he needed more of it. His tongue, as if it had a mind of its own, escaped the restrains of his mouth and traced the pink softness of her lips, begging for entrance into her moist cavern.

 

To his surprise, but most definitely not to his displeasure, she gasped and her mouth opened on pure reflex. Ichigo did not hesitate and instantly delved into her. He could taste ever inch of her beautifully hot orifice. His lips burned against hers as he turned his head to the side and pressed as much of his mouth against her as was humanly possible.

 

She was moaning beneath him, writing at the delicious sensations he was sending to course through her body. Ichigo wanted to give her more, he didn't want her to simply moan, he wanted to make her writhe and scream as he pushed into her again and again and again. He wanted so badly to be inside of her heat, tightly winding her and pushing her over the edges of conscious feeling until she could do nothing but lie on her back and scream.

 

His hand cupped her breast completely as his tongue coaxed at her own, attempting to entice it to follow him home. He might have wanted to make her scream… but more than anything else he wanted her to beg for his body. He wanted her to demand that he bury himself deep inside of her. He wanted her to willingly admit that she needed him. He most definitely did not want to be the only participant in this matter. He wanted so badly for her to want him. After so many weeks of waiting she owed him that much.

 

Her hands were on his chest and pushing lightly. Her lips were whimpering against his. Her body was straining to be free.

 

Ichigo released her immediately. His breathing was harsh and his body was shaking with unanswered need. His mouth hovered above hers as he stared deeply into her eyes. He saw panic and fear inside of those clear orbs.

 

If Ichigo could have taken his gun and shot himself he would have done it. Never… never… had he wanted to be the cause of such overt emotions in Rukia's eyes. Shaking with self-disgust he slowly moved off of her body, his hand leaving her breast and the taunt nipple, he closed his eyes completely and returned to a sitting position.

 

He had never felt such complete hatred for himself. He had just forced himself on a woman about half his size. She had told him before that she didn't want to become romantically involved. She had told him… he had heard her… Ichigo placed his elbows on his knees and bent his head in shame. His body was still throbbing painfully, he knew that he had an erection the size of a missile but Christ! He had let his desires run off and do whatever the hell they had wanted to do. Already he could feel his heart sinking into the pit of stomach. It was a disgusting feeling to suit such a disgusting person.

 

Rukia stared over at him, her eyes wide with shock and panic. He looked so shameful… why was he looking like that? What had she… what had she done wrong? Her body was tingling delightfully at what Ichigo had just done to her, her breast—the one Ichigo had stroked—was burning and pleading to be touched again, her heart was beating with the speed of a race horse and her legs… at the very center of her legs there was a very insistent throbbing and tightening that she wanted him to relieve.

 

His kiss… his kiss had been so hot and so delicious and so unexpected. She had just been watching TV one moment and the next thing she knew he was on top of her, kissing the ever-loving life out of her. She swallowed and wondered why she was feeling like this now. After all, she had been the one to tell him no over and over again but… but… Christ, the way he had come at her, like a panther finally capturing the prey it had been stalking for so long. It made her feel so desired and potent. She had never felt like that before and she knew that in one thousand years she would never be able to feel like that again. Unless she…

 

Unless she…

 

Ichigo was looking like he was ready to shoot himself. His eyes were closed, his head was pressed against the palms of his hands, his body was shaking violently, his erection was pressing insistently against his pants, and he was breathing like he had just run a marathon.

 

Steel entered Rukia's eyes as she considered what she was about to do. So what if she had told him that she didn't want to involve herself in a romantic relationship with him? So what if she had said it over and over and over again? Who the hell would really give a flying fuck? She needed sex. She needed sex badly. Besides, it was her choice who she wanted to take to bed. What mattered was right here and right now. Her resolve was set. She wanted him now and she was sure as fucking hell going to have him now.

 

Fuck the line.

 

She moved carefully, her legs were as soft as gelatin and she was positive that at any moment they would give out. Her core was throbbing and she knew that she needed relief. Her eyes were hungry as they traced every muscle of his body, the tight sinew of his powerful arms and the rock hardness of his devilishly beautiful legs, his solid jaw and high cheekbones… she wanted all of them. But more than that, she wanted them all to herself.

 

In one move she was standing before Ichigo. His head was still buried in his hands but when he felt the pressure on the couch alleviated he stiffened and looked up slowly.

 

Rukia could feel the pace of her heart quicken and heard her breath come out in short gasps. His eyes were large and darkly amber—she wanted to drown in their tawny depths.

 

“Rukia,” he croaked hoarsely, “I… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to… to… what are you—?”

 

Rukia wasted no time as she moved, the moment Ichigo removed his elbows from his knees she acted. Her hands fastened onto his shoulders and she climbed onto his lap, her legs fitting snugly against his waist and her core pressing hotly against his throbbing erection. She took the distinct pleasure in watching Ichigo's eyes widen to their enabled capacity. His arms didn't move from their new place on the couch, not that Rukia cared… she was quite certain she could take care of this.

 

Her eyes bored directly into Ichigo's as she slowly… ever so cautiously… raised her hips from his. She saw the man beneath her swallow convulsively as her warmth was removed from his. She could see that he wanted it back; she could see that he needed it, her breath quickened when she realized she needed it too.

 

Her hips were almost a foot above Ichigo's when he whimpered softly. That whimper, that vocal call of need, was what Rukia needed to hear. In less than a second she slammed her core against his erection; Ichigo drew in a gasp at the sudden motion and groaned as he witnessed and felt Rukia grinding herself onto his pulsating cock.

 

Her hips moved in an undulating pattern as she alleviated and worsened the pressure atop his body. Every time she came and ground her hot center against him he panted with need and each time she removed her heated center from him he wanted to scream at her to move back. It was a torturous cycle; one that she could see would have no peaceful ending.

 

He uttered a grisly groan as she broke contact with his eyes and reached down to place butterfly kisses on his neck and jaw line. She could feel the tight cords of his hard column as she bit and nipped at his pulse. She reveled how it beat so erratically—she knew she was the cause of it. This heat, this need… he wanted her so badly…

 

Then why was he not moving? Her hips were thrusting against his, her breasts were brushing his chest, her hands were squeezing his pectorals, and her mouth—the mouth he had once said would be the death of him—was sending fevered kisses and licks over his skin, yet his arms were still motionless. Rukia's eyes glazed over them and she saw they were clenching into dramatic fists, furling and unfurling in a desperate attempt to have some ounce of control over his body.

 

She snickered into his neck, “You had better start participating,” she murmured huskily as she moved over to bite his earlobe and felt his entire body jerk at the touch. She blew a puff of hot air at his ear. “I wouldn't want to rape you.”

 

Ichigo snapped. That was the only way to describe such a movement: his will, his body, and his mind snapped in one conclusive motion. Rukia gasped as his hands reached up and took a hold of the sides of her face. He dragged her lips back to his as his hand snaked around to grasp her hair tightly. Rukia was panting and Ichigo was growling as he leaned into her face and assaulted her mouth. She whimpered as his tongue pried her lips apart and he delved into the moist velvet of her mouth. Her fingers relinquished their hold on his chest as they moved to his neck and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. She angled her head to allow him deeper and began to jerk against his erection with increased purpose. The hand that was not wrapped in her hair caught her waist and yanked her closer to him. Now her breasts created the friction of their upper bodies as her hips continued the torturous heat of their lower.

 

Ichigo could feel himself losing control. To think… that she would do something like this to him—for him—it was too much for his mind to handle. The way she was moving and gripping and touching him… it was a struggle for him to think straight. Her thighs were continually gripping and squeezing his legs as her wet core assaulted his ramrod-straight erection. Her arms were resting on his shoulders and he could feel the muscles inside of them as she clutched his hair.

 

And her taste! Her taste was what men died for. If his heart simply decided to give out now and he died he would have died a happy man, knowing that he was drinking in the addictive taste of Rukia Kuchiki. Her skin smelled of heat, her hair felt like silk, her mouth tasted like cherries and fresh rainwater. He could become drunk in the sensations of her.

 

Willing himself harder, Ichigo thrust his hips up as Rukia crashed down upon him. The effect was mind-blowing. Her lips were ripped from his as she let out a startled scream. The pressure was building inside of her and Ichigo knew that it was his duty to relieve it for her. Relive her, pleasure her, complete her.

 

Ichigo refastened his mouth to hers and heard her begin to moan helplessly. Helpless… it was an emotion he doubted she frequently had. Even in her worst moments—when she seemed confused and desolate she never once appeared helpless.

 

The grinding became faster and more urgent but also wilder and uninhibited. She removed her mouth from his and began to pant against his neck, moving her lower body in extreme urgency.

 

“Ichigo…” she moaned as her body pulsated against his. Her mouth drawled on his name and never had he felt such pleasure coarse through his veins. She needed him to help her to completion.

 

Ichigo swallowed dryly as his hands moved from gripping her taunt ass to the base of her loose shirt. Insistently, he pushed the floppy material up and slid his hands under. Hungrily, his hands felt what his eyes could not yet see. Her skin was so soft he wondered if his calloused fingers would bruise her. He could feel her ribs as her body expanded passionately into pants. Then he moved further and touched the perfect breasts he had been waiting so long to feel skin to skin. The entirety of one of her breasts could fit into his palm and he knew in that moment that his hand was made for her breast. This thumb rubbed over her distended nipple and he released a growl of pleasure when he felt her shudder. A second hand moved underneath the flimsy fabric to grasp her other breast. He panted in pleasure as he tested each rosy nub, pinching and flicking them until they were pebbles under his touch. Rukia was mewling above him, her own hands gripping his shoulders and her face contorting in pleasurable torture.

 

She gasped his name once again and dutifully raised her arms above her head. Ichigo did not hesitate to yank the loose shirt over her head and throw it into an abandoned corner of the apartment. As soon as she was free from the restriction his eyes feasted hungrily on her perfect mounds. The mulberry nipples were exactly as he had dreamed them to be, her skin complimented the perfect color of both blushing nubs, and… oh, they were heaving against him, simply inviting his mouth to reach down and devour them completely.

 

Rukia let out a tiny shriek as Ichigo's hot lips closed over one of her breasts. She immediately raised her body and grasped the back of his head, pressing his face to the center of her chest, shuddering at every flick of his tongue and every brush of his teeth. She called his name, louder this time, and he knew she was close.

 

He hungrily switched from her first breast to her second as she continued to shudder and plead beneath him. Her cries were music to his ears and he knew that he would be inside of her soon. He suckled on one of her nipples and she yelped aloud. Her grip on his hair was beginning to become painful and he wondered if she would rip out a few strands.

 

“Ichigo!” She cried, her voice was demanding, she needed him and he knew it.

 

But he wasn't ready to relinquish her taste just yet. Her mouth, her skin, and her breasts were equitable to dining in a heavenly hall but now… now he wanted to taste something he had only dreamed of tasting in his X-rated fantasies.

 

Ichigo jerked his mouth from her nipple and Rukia sighed in pained relief. His lips curled into a mischievous smile and he slowly detached her body from his. Her eyes widened in horror as he pried her sweating chest and throbbing core from his. His arms supported her body as she formed an angry tirade on the tip of her tongue. Ichigo simply smirked as he picked her up and slammed her against the back of the couch. Rukia let out a strangled cry of surprise and made her hands grapple for any means of support she could reach. Her eyes fastened on Ichigo as she watched him kneel before her, lick his lips, and hook his fingers in the waistband of her boxer shorts. Her breathing became violent as he pulled them leisurely down her legs, Rukia rushed to lift her taunt ass from the couch and aid in her undressing.

 

Once they were off and tossed into an unknown corner of the room Rukia drew her eyes down and stared at Ichigo. His eyes were feasting on the sight of her glistening pussy. She knew that he could see her puffy lips and begging clitoris. Her tongue appeared and licked her dry mouth as she panted at the sight of him. He looked so predatory, like she belonged to him and no one else.

 

Rukia swallowed and arched her back a bit, scooting her core closer to his kneeling form. Ichigo's eyes widened with wild abandon and in an instant his face was buried between her legs.

 

Rukia couldn't have stopped the scream even if she had wanted to.

 

Her hands flew immediately to his hair where she gripped it tightly, her eyes shut to the verge of tears, and her legs wrapped around Ichigo's shoulders, drawing him as close to her as he could be.

 

“Oh my Gooooooooood.” She moaned breathlessly.

 

Ichigo tongue was working miracles on her tightly wound pussy. He was circling her clitoris with the pink appendage and tugging on the distended nub with his teeth. His lips would caress the tiny bundle of nerves with reverence while his tongue licked her sopping walls. Again and again she delivered tiny screams and howls as he bit her puffy, pink lips and simultaneously soothed them.

 

Rukia could feel her inner walls tightening as Ichigo's tongue laved her insides. She moaned and arched her back against the couch, her fingers tightening in his hair until she was sure she would rip it out. Ichigo moaned against her heated cunt and it was the vibrations that sent her over the edge. Her throat released a sharp scream into the air as he lapped up each drop of her juices. His tongue did not stop working even as her hands relaxed in his orange locks and her arms dropped to her sides. Her chest was heaving with the pressure it took to even breathe.

 

“Oh… God…” she moaned, her hands moving to the sides of his face as she caressed his cheeks with her thumbs, “How… w-what?”

 

Ichigo rested his elbow on the couch and massaged her thighs; he cocked an eyebrow and grinned wickedly, “I knew your lips would taste as good as they looked.”

 

Rukia's passion-filled eyes darkened even more with wild lust. She leaned forward sensually and stared hungrily at Ichigo's golden body. His ribbed muscles, his 12 pack of abs, and his rather large erection pressing restlessly against the fabric of his boxers. Rukia's breathing became short and her eyes dilated as she stared at him… he was a god.

 

She lashed forward, surprising Ichigo and pleasing him at the same time. In a single moment she was atop him once again, her hands clawing at his pectorals and rubbing his nipples. His back was pressed into the floor of his apartment and his body lurched against hers. His eyes were blazing with desire; Rukia stared back and slowly ground her core against him. His lashes fluttered as he tried to keep his eyes open. Her heat was teasing him and crushing him at the same time. His hands latched themselves on to her hips, holding her hard enough to cause bruises.

 

“Rukia…” he growled, his voice dark with unheeded desires.

 

She breathed hotly and whispered, “I want you.”

 

She drew in a sharp gasp and immediately released him from her devilish hold. Ichigo reared back up and glared at her. What was she—why was she?

 

Not a moment later she had her fingers hooked around the waistband of his boxers and was pulling them forcefully down his legs. They were gone in a matter of seconds, tossed to the outer regions of the apartment with her shirt and panties. Time slowed as he saw her, crawling on her hands and knees towards him. Her body had the image of a cat as it slinked towards him with stealthily. Her large eyes were coming closer and closer to him and so was her mouth—those delicious lips—and her sopping pussy simply aching to be filled.

 

She paused momentarily in her delicious crawl, her eyes shifted downward to view his stiff cock. She paused momentarily and raised one of her hands. Ichigo stared at her hungrily as she placed one finger at the base of his throbbing erection and slowly moved it up, swirling it around the head as he bucked and groaned beneath her. Her finger tapped the tip of his shaft as she bent her head down to kiss it.

 

Ichigo moaned loudly and snarled, “Rukia… I swear to fucking god that if you don't—”

 

She was above him in a second, her slick heat massaging the very top of his cock. “Impatient are we?” She hissed huskily, taking him only an inch inside of her. His hands shot out and gripped her shoulders, his fingers bruising softly.

 

“Rukia…” he growled.

 

In one swift move she had impaled herself on Ichigo's engorged shaft and their sharp screams radiated throughout the room. She panted helplessly as she felt him fill her inch by inch. His largeness permeated her entire being and completed her to such an extent that she had never known a moment where she had been so blissful. She did not move for a moment, she simply soaked in the sensations of him, ready and hot inside of her, he was panting beneath her body, her thighs could feel the clenching muscles in his legs, and her hands could feel the violent thudding in his heart.

 

“Oh… Christ…” Rukia groaned fitfully, her hands scratching down his chest.

 

Ichigo was breathing hard, “Just… just wait…” He lurched beneath her and she fell a bit forward, her arms shaking and barely supporting her. “I'll make you feel… feel so good.”

 

The next thing she knew she was on her back, her legs were hooked around his waist, and he was pulling out of her. Rukia groaned at the lack of heat but shrieked when he pushed back into her.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned as his teeth latched onto her neck and he bit down hard. “You're so tight.” She shuddered beneath him as her arms wrapped around his back. He drew out of her with agonizing slowness before thrusting back into her with such force Rukia was sure she was going to pass out.

 

Rukia moaned as her mind flashed back to relations she had had with other men, they had been satisfying yes, but nothing… nothing as intense as this. Ichigo seemed to know exactly what to do; his teeth were biting at her shoulders while his tongue soothed the marks. He was thrusting into her with unimaginable force, his movements causing her to buck and moan until she could feel the inevitable tightening of her pussy.

 

“Ichigo…!” She groaned, her voice breaking with each syllable. Her body arched sensually and began to curl around him.

 

“F—Fuck Rukia,” he shuddered, his cock wrenching back into her. She was too much… she was panting and groaning and whimpering loudly, her fingernails were digging into the base of his neck, making crimson blood run down his back and slid onto the floor. Her pants were becoming more insistent and Ichigo knew that he needed to bring her to the brink. He slid his hands down between the slick sweat of their bodies until he was circling her clit, rubbing and teasing until he could feel her walls clamping down on his pulsating cock. Her back arched into the air and she let out a scream, feeling Ichigo's engorged shaft as it continued to thrust into her, even as she climaxed.

 

Within seconds Ichigo had followed her into the edges of bliss. He exploded into her with such force he wondered if his soul had spilled inside of her as well. His cum shot into her as she gripped him tightly, holding onto him for dear life.

 

Ichigo panted as he finished completely. His body was above hers but his arms were weak and shaking. He opened his eyes—when had he shut them? Was it when he came?—and stared down at Rukia. Her face was heated and red, her eyes were passionately shining and dazed, she was staring off into the distance, her body throbbing as he lay above her.

 

Gingerly, her eyes readjusted to stare at him and she blinked a few times. She was panting and shuddering as she brought her hand up and caressed his cheek.

 

Ichigo bent down slowly and pressed a chaste kiss to her swollen lips. He swallowed softly and slid out of her gingerly. She moaned quietly as she looked down and watched as he removed himself, he was covered in her juices and still stiff. Rukia cocked an eyebrow and snorted softly at the sight… men.

 

Ungracefully, Ichigo slumped to his side and breathed harshly. His body was tingling with the sensations of sex. He glued his eyes to the ceiling as he felt the heat from the woman beside him. God… that had been the single most fantastic experience of his entire life, it was the thing he had wanted for so long and now he had had it. Ichigo swallowed and turned his head to her, Christ he wanted her again. Her body was radiating with sex and her scent was heady and passionate, her naked chest was heaving and her perfect lips were biting each other. He had never seen someone look so sexy without even trying.

 

She was the first to speak, “So…” she croaked, turning her head towards him, “What… now?”

 

Ichigo was still panting. It took him a while before he was able to twist towards her and stare deep into her eyes, “What do you mean?” His voice was deep and satiated, but underneath that, far underneath, she could hear the residual traces of hunger.

 

She swallowed accusingly and blinked at him, “I mean… what happens… well, next?” She sighed and shook her head, “We had sex. You got what you wanted, I apparently got what I wanted…” she whistled softly. “Yes I did…”

 

Ichigo felt a small shiver of confusion run down his spine. It accompanied the pride he felt when he heard her say she had gotten what she wanted.

 

She cleared her throat a bit and continued, “Do we keep on living like we have?” She turned her head to Ichigo and pressed her cheek against the carpet. Her eyes were deep and slightly panicked. “Should we… um, keep… sleeping together?”

 

Ichigo blinked twice and mentally knew that what had just occurred would happen again, there was no way in hell it wouldn't. “What about our case? Seriously, how are we supposed to solve it, and all of the others, if we're too busy having… well, sex?”

 

Ichigo's look turned to one of uninterrupted desire. Rukia's throat worked as she gulped at the new expression covering his face.

 

She was completely serious, Ichigo realize in a moment. Her eyes—which had been glazed with passion only moments before—were hard and calculating. Ichigo felt irritation grow inside as she stared at him, her eyes weakening in resolution by the second.

 

The last thing he wanted was for her to be so business-like after they had just fucked on his living room carpet. His chest twanged painfully… he wanted her to whimper and pant and scream and groan, like she had been doing only moments before. Knowing Rukia, she would most likely just put her clothes back on again and resume watching the television, completely ignoring what had just conspired between them.

 

Ichigo frowned at her and sat up swiftly.

 

He wasn't going to let that happen.

 

He braced her arms around her sides and glared at her with a hard glint in her eyes. Her shining orbs widened and she swallowed convulsively.

 

“What we're going to do,” Ichigo whispered dangerously. “Is go back into my room and continue to have sex until neither of us can move. What we're going to do tomorrow is get up early, eat breakfast, and then confine ourselves to the bed, the couch, the floor, the shower or even the walls if you want.”

 

Rukia's eyes widened and she gulped as Ichigo's hand began to cup and tease her exposed breast. “After that… we'll continue going to work, have quickies in the break room or in the examiner's office, and then come back to my apartment.”

 

“But my… my h-house.” She moaned as he squeezed her nipple.

 

“There is fine too,” he smirked as he leaned down to kiss her neglected breast. “I don't really care where; I simply want to make sure that at the end of each and every day, for as long as we have together, we end up skin to skin, me inside of you.” He leaned over to her and reveled in her startled stare, his eyes were burning into hers, leaving a mark he never wanted to disappear.

 

“Understand?” He asked hotly, running his hand from her sensitive breast to her wet core. She shuddered under his touch and whined softly. Ichigo could feel himself growing hard at her sounds.

 

“Already?” She asked huskily, feeling his erection pressing against her thigh.

 

“Damn straight,” he grinned. He stood swiftly and bent down to lift her up. She yelped as he carried her bridal style to his room, dumped her on the bed, and climbed atop of her.

 

Rukia's lips twisted into a slickly pleasurable smirk, all thoughts of tomorrow gone from her mind, “Well…” she murmured as his hand began to travel the length of his chest, “If you want it so neither of us can move…” her fingers moved down and gripped his erection. “Then we had better get started.”

 

Ichigo snickered, “If you insist.”

 

 

 

 

 

(Ah, now Rukia wouldn't be Rukia if she didn't kill the mood. )