Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Odalisque ❯ Chapter 15 ( Chapter 15 )

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



Odalisque

Chapter 15

“So… how do you look?”

Rukia examined herself in the mirror and pressed a singular hand to her stomach. “I’m not gonna lie Momo… I look good.” She twisted and flipped the phone over to her other ear. “I just need to put my makeup on and I’ll be gone.” She moved forward until her face was only centimeters away from the mirror. She inspected her foundation and lifted the skin around her eyes. She just needed to apply a little mascara, some lip gloss, and a bit of blush.

She pressed the phone between her ear and her shoulder and pulled out a bottle of perfume she rarely used. She sprayed a tiny bit on her wrists then placed a bit more on her neck and behind her ears. She grinned and inhaled generously. There was a reason she only wore this perfume on special occasions. That and it cost nearly three hundred dollars a bottle. She picked up her mascara and placed it on her eyes then stuffed the tube in her tiny purse. She did the same with the lip gloss and the blush.

Momo chattered amiably in her ear and Rukia fluffed her hair. “Are you wearing your hair up or down?” She asked.

“Down,” Rukia answered, “I thought I’d try something different.”

“Take a picture of yourself,” Momo encouraged, “Come on! I have to see you!”

Rukia sighed and stepped away from the mirror. She took her cell phone from her ear, chose the picture selection, and aimed it at the reflecting glass in front of her. She turned to the front, the sides, and a bit to the back, snapping photo after photo. Smirking in satisfaction, she sent them to Momo, who immediately started to squeal.

“You look gorgeous!”

“I know,” she sighed smugly, “It comes with the territory. Damn, I’ll just watch all those jaws drop.” She adjusted her dress and made sure that her breasts were not in danger of falling out. She grinned and said, “And I’m even going to show up a bit late, just for the whole dramatic Cinderella flair.”

“Fantastic, you’ve finally learned something from me.” Momo squealed, it even sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“How does Toshiro look?” Rukia asked, still admiring herself.

“So handsome,” she sighed. “I made him dress an hour earlier just so I could rip his tux off and have him.” She giggled again and Rukia could practically see her dancing around the room. “Just have fun tonight, okay?”

“I will. Tell Toshiro I’ll see him at the party.”

“Rukia will see you at the party,” she sang into the house and then turned back to the phone, “I’ll talk to you later, Shiro’s going now and I want to say goodbye properly.”

“See you later Momo,” Rukia said and they hung up simultaneously.

Rukia stood in front of the mirror once again and inspected how she looked. She smiled at herself and slowly ran her hands from her breasts down to her thighs. She couldn’t help the glowing smile that appeared on her mouth as she examined herself. She turned around and stared at the soft planes of her back. God, was it possible to steal her own breath away? She sure hoped that she did the same to every man in the room. She quickly checked her face in the mirror once again and could only describe it as perfect.

She stepped a few feet away and tried to tear her eyes away from her own image. She twirled a few times in the middle of the room and sighed happily. She loved it when she felt beautiful. Especially when she felt beautiful in a new dress. It might be a bit narcissistic but she really didn’t care. Hell, she deserved a break from pencil skirts and blouses and tonight would be the perfect night. Right now she was beautiful, she was elegant, and she was confident… there was nothing that could take this away from her.

Rukia took one last look at herself, grabbed her decorative shawl, and exited her apartment. As she locked the door behind her she wondered whether or not Ichigo Kurosaki would like the way she looked tonight. Not that she really cared or anything. She liked the way she looked and she knew that ninety nine point nine percent of people in that room would like the way she looked, so it didn’t really matter if Kurosaki liked it either. She descended the stairs with her head held high.

She knew that he would like the way she looked.

*~*~*

Suigetsu Inc. and Gotei Corp. had rented a fantastic ballroom for the announcement of their merger. They had chosen the best and most expensive hotel, selected the most exquisite caterers to provide the food, allowed only the top tier of reporters and newscasters to attend the event, and each person attending the event wore ball gowns and tuxedo’s that were from the best designers around the world.

Women wore silks from exotic lands, men wore cloth from Italy, hair was styled, nails were done, shoes clicked against polished floors, and champagne glasses were held delicately. An entire string symphony was playing soft music in the corner. Dozens of chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling and lighting the room with a gentle glow. A large, polished, staircase led to the outside. It had twin grand, sweeping, rails that were embossed with shining, golden, paint. The stairs were made of veined marble and led the way to a gleaming wooden floor.

It was that staircase that was accepting dozens of people; colorful women, somber men, and several others alike.

Ichigo stood near the base of those stairs, leaning against the railing, and drinking from his third glass of champagne. He would have preferred a beer but the only thing they had here was champagne. He cursed those frilly party planners for not including something for actual men, this girly drink wouldn’t get him nearly drunk enough to survive this party.

He glanced up at the people now coming from the wide, oak doors. It was some sixty year old fat guy that Ichigo had seen around the office sometimes with a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. He knew she wasn’t though; she had huge tits, collagen-filled lips, and was wearing a dress that was so revealing it was the minority party on her body.

She looked in his direction and caught Ichigo’s eye, or it might have been the other way around, Ichigo couldn’t really tell. With her arm still looped around grandpa over there she winked at him and managed to push her breasts out just a bit more. Ichigo snorted and looked away. He wasn’t that drunk yet.

Besides, he thought in irritation, her rack was probably purchased by Father Time over there, I like the real thing, not cheap knock-offs.

Ichigo grunted and finished off his glass, passing it to a random caterer. He would have accepted another glass had the damn person not moved off without giving him one. He leaned casually against the railing of the exquisite staircase and ignored several other twenty-something bleached blondes with huge racks slung over crippled old men.

His eyes scanned the room and he noted a few people he knew. Well, sort of, he didn’t know their names, but he knew their faces well enough. He also recognized them enough to remember if they irritated him or not. They were all posers, all of them. They were just here to get their names in the paper, to get laid–with the help of several little blue pills–and to get piss-ass drunk… or, at least as drunk as you could get off of frilly shit like champagne.

He grabbed another glass from a passing waiter and took a large gulp. He knew he should be socializing with these people or at least try to talk to them. They were, after all, some of the wealthiest people in the entirety of Karakura, hell, even the entire country. He should have been schmoozing and kissing ass and doing all kinds of shit to try and get himself noticed.

He just didn’t feel like it.

Ichigo scoffed inwardly at that idea. Here he was, standing here in an Italian tux, with polished shoes, cufflinks, and coat tails–coat tails for Christ’s sake! The only thing that was missing was a damn pair of gloves, a top hat, and a cane. But no, he was the one who actually felt like a real person, around all these pompous posers too!

Oh the irony. He shook his head at the ridiculous notion and took another swig from his champagne glass. He should find someone to talk to before he ended up crying in an abandoned room somewhere.

He began to walk around. Tulle, silk, and satin brushed against him as he weaved his way through the crowd. He passed his half-empty–or was it half-full?–glass to an attendant and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Damn, what was this, the seventh one of these parties he had been to? Why was he still feeling as though it was his first? He continued weaving. Maybe he was just nervous. He did, after all, have to give a speech to all of these party-goers. Hell, without his speech they wouldn’t even know why they were here. He rolled his eyes back into his head and prayed to God that he wouldn’t have to do anything more complex than stand at the podium and smile. It was Rukia who had the notes. Rukia was the one who was probably the better public speaker. She would be the one talking and he would just be there for the visual effects.

Wait a minute…

Where was Rukia? As far as he knew she hadn’t even come yet. He hadn’t seen her come down the stairs–and he had been watching for at least ten minutes–and they were already a good half an hour into the party. Seriously, several people were already drunk–mostly the blonde bimbos but still… where the hell was she?

“Ichigo Kurosaki!” A voice boomed from behind him. Ichigo’s spine stiffened a bit when he recognized the voice. He turned slightly and saw his boss, Sosuke Aizen, coming towards him. Gin Ichimaru wasn’t far behind either but it was Aizen who had his arms open like he was going to embrace Ichigo. “The man of the hour!” He cried.

“Good evening sir,” Ichigo muttered, feigning politeness and fighting the slight fuzz that was inching into a nanometer of his brain. He extended his hand and gave his boss a lopsided grin.

Aizen smiled warmly and grasped Ichigo’s hand in a strong grip. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Well, I kind of had to,” he said, his voice becoming flat. Aizen chuckled genially, Ichimaru joined him, and several other people around them–for no particular reason at all–started chuckling as well.

“Of course, of course,” he smiled gently and patted Ichigo’s back. Grumbling awkwardly, Ichigo felt his boss’s hand covertly guiding him towards the side of the room. He went along willingly and placidly told himself just to try and sound intelligent.

“Is Ms. Kuchiki here yet?” He asked, a twinge of impatience evident in his tone.

“No, not yet,” Ichigo answered, wishing he had another glass of champagne with him.

“Oh,” Aizen’s voice lowered slightly and he set his hand completely on Ichigo’s shoulder. “Well, we want you two to announce the merger around ten. I hope she’s here by then.” He squeezed Ichigo’s shoulder and laughed merrily, “Or else you’ll have to announce it yourself!”

Like hell.

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” Ichigo muttered. He lifted his arm and effectively exposed his wristwatch while casually brushing Aizen’s hand off of his shoulder. “She’s only a half an hour late.”

“That’s what worries me,” Ichimaru chimed in and the two of them turned to him. Ichigo blinked at the man while he continued to smile like a… well, like a snake. He cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest. “She always seems to be early for everything. I hope nothing has happened to her.”

Ichigo shook his head, “Trust me, nothing would stop that woman from coming to this little soiree. She’ll be here.”

Or I’ll kill her.

“I sure hope so,” Ichimaru crooned, “But don’t panic Kurosaki,” he motioned to a large and elegant clock above the staircase. “You’ve got a half an hour. She’ll surely show by then.”

She better.

“Yes, I’m sure she will.” Ichigo gave a strained smile to the two of them and then frowned slightly. “Would you two happen to know where Uryu Ishida is?”

Aizen paused, looked around the room, pushed his glasses up his nose, and nodded slightly. “I believe he’s talking to the reporter, Ms. Arisawa, over on the other side of the room.”

“Tatsuki’s here?” He asked, his mood brightening instantly.

“Yes,” Aizen said, taking a handkerchief from his breast pocket and using it to wipe his eyeglasses. “You know her, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Ichigo smirked, “We went to school together and worked out at the same dojo.” He snorted and shook his head at the memories, “She kicked my ass until I was nine.”

“Well,” Ichimaru laughed, “That’s not exactly something you’d normally hear Ichigo Kurosaki confess everyday.”

“If you’ll excuse me I’m going to say hello.” He started to move away from his two bosses and was nearly successful when Aizen called after him and reminded him to be by the microphones at ten for the announcement. Ichigo merely waved his hand at them in acknowledgement and continued on his way.

He weaved through countless people, accidentally brushed against hundreds of fake breasts, and nearly spilled dozens of champagne glasses before finally spotting them. When Ichigo did see them he grinned and sped up his pace.

Tatsuki Arisawa was one of the only women that Ichigo had known for years yet had never slept with. That, in itself, was quite an accomplishment. Not that she wasn’t attractive or anything, it was just that Ichigo thought of Tatsuki more as a sister than as a romantic interest.

She and he grew up together. They lived next door to each other, played when they were toddlers, trained together at the dojo, and went to the same school. When it came time to go to college the two of them finally parted. Tatsuki went to become a journalist and Ichigo went to business and law school. They had kept in touch over the years, had lunch together a few times, and Ichigo even gave her the occasional story or two. It turned out that it was actually a real asset to have a friend in the media; Tatsuki, while still a ruthless pursuant of the truth, wouldn’t run something that was horridly embarrassing to him or would show him in a destructive light. She had covered many stories about his success in the business world, his down and dirty tactics, but she was enough of a friend not to mention his personality or his sex life–and how they related to his job–in any of her stories.

It was just one of those things that made his life a little easier to live.

He passed a few more people until he was finally in front of them. Tatsuki seemed to be in deep conversation was Uryu. He paused for a moment to listen and had to blink twice. Was his hearing wrong or were they actually discussing the proper length a hem line should be?

“Wow, this sure is stimulating.” He remarked, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

Tatsuki gasped and swiveled in her spot. “Ichigo!” She cried. She held up her wine glass and saluted him as though he were a sailor. “How goes it?”

“Fine,” he squeezed her shoulder lightly–he didn’t feel like hugging her while she was a bit tipsy–and gave her a lopsided grin. “How are you and how much have you had to drink?”

“Not much,” she hiccupped.

Ichigo looked pointedly at Uryu.

“Five.” He said blandly.

“Tatsuki,” Ichigo groaned, “You’re supposed to be covering the announcement tonight.”

“Oh please,” she giggled, “I’m going to tape it; I’ll do it tomorrow when I’m not so… so…”

“Drunk?” Ichigo supplied.

“Hey,” Tatsuki snapped, all the wooziness leaving her body in an instant. She reached out and punched him quickly in the shoulder. Ichigo flinched and brought his other hand up to where he had been struck. He had forgotten that she could hold her drink very well. Better than him, in fact, and he’d already had three glasses. “This stuff is Dom Perignon and it’s free. If I had a thermos I’d steal it.”

“I’ll see if I can get you a few bottles.”

“You do that.” She tipped her glass to him and nodded her head.

Ichigo grinned and looked his friend over. She had donned a rather interesting dress for the occasion. It was a strapless, slightly above the knee, fire engine red, and covered with spider web patterns of twinkling sequins. On anyone else the dress would have looked tacky, but paired with a set of flashy earrings, matching lipstick, and Tatsuki’s signature confident smile it couldn’t have looked better.

“You clean up nicely,” Ichigo commented and indicated her outfit.

“Thanks,” she grinned, “I wanted something to liven the party up a bit. All these chicks seem a bit boring.”

“Not boring,” Uryu chimed in, looking around the room in disgust. “Just… fashion challenged.”

“You can say that again.” She agreed wholeheartedly.

Ichigo rolled his eyes as the two of them began discussing the current trends in the fashion world and the effect it had on the global market. Both Tatsuki and Uryu took a sip from their glasses and casually looked around the room as they spoke, occasionally pointing out dresses and costumes that were classy while scoffing at those that were whorish. Ichigo didn’t even bother listening to them. He knew that even if he tried to make an effort he would fail miserably. Clothing just wasn’t his thing.

He shot a sideways glance at Uryu and wondered if he had gotten over their argument yet. Normally when they had those kinds of discussion about Inoue they didn’t speak to each other for a while afterwards. That was generally followed by a week of casual indifference which was then completed by both of them gruffly conversing once again.

They had started the gruff conversing nearly two weeks ago. He supposed that Uryu was over it already, he always got over their arguments about Inoue, he just the needed time.

Ichigo kept his hands in his pockets and looked around the room. He watched dozens of men shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, laughing, and arguing. He just shook his head and tried not to yawn.

“So Ichigo,” Tatsuki said, drawing his attention back to her, “When the hell are you going to announce this big thing?”

“Ten,” he said, casually checking his watch for the time.

Uryu frowned softly and glanced around the room. “But where’s Rukia? Isn’t she supposed to announce it with you?”

“She is,” he muttered, “But she’s not here yet.”

“Well, I hope she shows up soon,” Tatsuki muttered, “From what I know of Ichigo’s public speaking abilities I wouldn’t want him to be the one announcing whatever the hell this thing is.”

“How do you know Rukia’s not as bad as I am?” He demanded.

Tatsuki barked in laughter, “Please Ichigo, no one’s as bad as you.” She paused for a minute and slight crease lines appeared in her forehead. “Wait just a minute, do you mean Rukia Kuchiki of the Kuchiki Corporation family?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo answered sullenly, “That’s her.”

“Wow,” she breathed and Ichigo raised an eyebrow at her sudden level of interest. “I bet if I can get an interview with her my boss would keel over.” She turned to him. “Can you arrange it?”

“Why would you need an interview?” He asked, “I thought you were here to cover the announcement.”

“I am,” Tatsuki said patiently, “But the Kuchiki’s are famous for never giving interviews about anything other than business. Getting the inside scoop on their personal lives could be a really big deal.”

“She has no personal life,” Ichigo snickered, “She’s a robot who enjoys schedules way too much.”

“Then why is she late?” Uryu asked calmly. “She should have been here by… oh my, speak of the devil.”

Ichigo was about to snort and say “Literally,” when he turned around and promptly realized that if he had been holding a champagne glass he would have dropped it.

“Oh. My. God…”

Ichigo could not remember the last time he had ever seen something so beautiful.

Rukia Kuchiki stood in the middle of the marble staircase, glowing in a soft, golden light. Time seemed to stand still as she stayed there and silently observed the room. Conversations ceased, men stopped dancing, women quieted their chatter, and caterers stopped serving, all of them seemed to just be looking up at her.

An attendant slowly walked up to her and she gently removed her shimmering shawl from her shoulders. He took it and bowed away from her. Ichigo could feel his mouth go dry at the sight of her in such eveningwear.

Her ebony hair spilled over her shoulders and curled gently at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a dress as gorgeous as sin. It was black and iridescent in the light of the chandeliers. He drew in a shaky breath as he saw it swirl around her legs and expose tiny black shoes from underneath. Diamond earrings peaked out from beneath her layers of hair and she held a tiny purse at her waist. Ichigo’s eyes followed her as she descended the stairs, noticing how her gaze slipped around the room as she walked.

It seemed as though the entirety of the ballroom was staring at her as she descended. Her body sparkled as it moved. She looked absolutely gorgeous. Her sapphire eyes smoldered and her alabaster skin radiated in the room. She looked like an angel swathed in black.

Ichigo’s brain didn’t even have enough oxygen to bother to consider how much of an oxymoron that was.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, brushing past Tatsuki and Uryu in one smooth movement. He heard a definite snicker come from Uryu’s direction and a stream of questions coming from Tatsuki’s. He ignored them both and immediately began pushing through just about anyone else who was in front of him. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing; he just knew that he wanted to be the first one to greet Rukia when she came to the bottom of the steps.

Unfortunately, he was beat to it. He was also startled by the intense urge he felt to rip the head off of the person who did. However, he couldn’t exactly kill his boss now, could he?

Aizen must have popped up from the floorboards or something because the next thing Ichigo knew he was taking Rukia’s hand and guiding her down the last three steps. She smiled prettily at him and said something charming–he could almost hear it–and stepped down onto the ground gracefully.

Ichigo finally pushed his way through the crowd–at the expense of a few glasses of spilled champagne and a couple ruined tuxedos–and strode forward. Aizen was still holding Rukia’s hand and Ichigo wondered why that irritated him so much. He straightened the lapels on his tux and smoothed down the front. He had taken almost three steps when he was once again stopped.

Aizen had motioned to something behind Rukia and she turned softly to look. Ichigo nearly gagged on the invisible lump stuck inside of his throat when he saw… when he saw…

Rukia’s dress had no back. Well, it did, but the fabric only started once the gentle curve of her spine ended. He felt his jaw quivering as he stared, fixated, at the fair planes of her back. He could only see an expanse of white skin before the dress took its job up once again and covered her. His breathing was ragged as he stared at the gentle swell of her backside and down to the flowing fabric of her dress.

“Ichigo… I see you’ve come to welcome me.”

He looked up blearily, “Huh?”

Rukia’s knowing eyes twinkled into his own. He swallowed hard and wished that some type of distraction would suddenly appear. He could sure as hell use one.

“I–I, uh, thought you weren’t going to, um, c-come.” He managed and quickly cleared his throat. “I thought I’d have to announce this thing myself.”

“Oh don’t worry,” she said, laughing in a twinkling way that made Ichigo’s gut clench hard, “I wouldn’t leave you out to dry.”

His normal response of ‘Yes you would’ was turned into some sort of gargle. In a moment of silence and panic Ichigo thrust his hand out and swallowed again. “If we could t-talk about what we’re going to say, that’d be… good.”

“Certainly,” she turned to Aizen and slid her hand out of his. He seemed disappointed but Ichigo felt passionately relieved. “Thank you for greeting me Mr. Aizen.”

“Sosuke, for tonight.” He assured her and Ichigo had another intense urge to lunge at the man.

“Of course.” She smiled and turned to Ichigo. Both of her hands went to her purse and she raised one eyebrow. “Shall we?”

Hand still outstretched he took one step forward, touched her elbow gently, and began to lead her away from their bosses. He couldn’t be exactly sure, but he could almost swear that he could see merciless laughter shining in her eyes.

He steered her away until they were in a secluded corner of the room. He let go of her elbow–even though the larger part of him was telling him to hold on for deal life–and turned to face her.

“So…” he breathed. His hands were shaking a bit but he slid them inside of his pockets as soon as he could so she wouldn’t notice. Still, he had a strange feeling that she did, notice that is.

“So,” she said just as quietly. She looked down at the ground for a moment and Ichigo even caught her shoe scuffing into the floor. She looked up and smiled, “Our speech?”

“Um, yeah,” he said, raising his hand and scratched the back of his head. “Did you want me to actually talk or…?”

“No,” she reassured him, “I’ll do it. You just add in a few comments here and there. You know, comic relief and such.”

“Right,” he murmured. He didn’t know why but it seemed as though he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the floor. Christ! He felt like a blushing virgin about to have sex for the first time. Or–or at least a boy going out of a first date. But this wasn’t a date, they weren’t having sex, and he could stare at the floor if he wanted to.

“We announce it at ten, right?” She asked, her voice floating above the symphonic music as though it belonged with it.

“Yeah,” Ichigo shoved his watch in front of his face and coughed when he saw it was only quarter of. He stuffed his Rolex back into his pocket and continued to count the veins in the polished wood floors. “Um, also, my friend Tatsuki Arisawa is here. She works for the Karakura Ledger and she said something about getting a story on you.”

He hazarded a glance up and saw tiny crease lines on her perfect forehead. “On me? But isn’t she here to cover the merger announcement?”

“She is,” he said, garnering enough courage to look at her collar bone. “But she said that since your family is very secretive that she’d like to try and squeeze a story out of you.”

“She can try,” Rukia laughed, “But I won’t say a thing. We Kuchiki’s have our secrets.” Her eyes hardened just a bit at that last statement.

Ichigo nodded mutely and watched Rukia check on the time, giving him another glimpse of her gorgeous backside, “Well, I’m going to go prepare. I’ll see you up with Aizen and Yamamoto at ten.”

“Is Yamamoto even here?” Ichigo asked.

Rukia merely shrugged, “I have no idea. I heard that Ukitake was too ill to come.” She shook her head and sighed. “Oh well, it might just have to be us and Aizen doing all the talking.” She winked those big, liquid, sapphire, eyes at him and Ichigo felt his knees nearly collapse.

She turned away from him and began to walk into the crowd. He could tell that she was preparing to do lots of schmoozing tonight. Her hands were already up and out and ready to be kissed by men thrice her age. She walked with her head held high and her shoulders held back. She was proud and beautiful and graceful as she stepped away from him.

“Rukia!”

Ichigo didn’t know where that had come from. One minute he had been speechless and the next he was calling out her name in a crowded ballroom. What the hell was going on with him?

She slowed and pivoted. Ichigo swallowed and felt his feet moving forward. Before he could stop himself he was in front of her, bending down softly, and pressing his lips to her cheek. He lingered longer than he should have; it was long enough so that he could feel her cheek heating underneath his lips and definitely long enough so that he could smell the delicious perfume that she had sprayed on her skin. It made his head spin and his stomach churn. He slowly lifted his mouth and stepped back.

“You look beautiful.” He said softly.

She brought her hand up and touched her cheek. “Thank you.” She murmured, her voice filled with squeaky awe. “Thank you very much.”

He grinned and for the first time since seeing her, his schoolboy fearfulness dropped away and his manly cockiness returned. “You’re welcome.” He said just as quietly as before.

She nodded wistfully and turned away once again. This time, she vanished into the crowd.

*~*~*

Rukia kept touching her cheek for the entire fifteen minutes until the merger announcement. His lips had felt so soft, even softer than when she had nearly-and-accidentally kissed him a few weeks ago. She swallowed and felt a small shiver run down her spine. Her attention drifted away from the man she was having a conversation with. He was telling her something about his impressive records of the weakness of the dollar next to the euro and how that affected the yen. She merely nodded and made sure that her eyes didn’t have a certain far-away look they tended to get when she wasn’t paying attention.

Unconsciously, her fingers brushed against her cheek once again.

After she and Ichigo had almost-and-accidentally kissed they both seemed to have some sort of silent agreement that neither one of them would speak about it again. She returned to work the next day and immediately asked about a new file. He at least had the decency to blush slightly before answering her. After that… it was a dead topic. They avoided each other like the plague and only spoke when they needed to. But that had been a few weeks ago. And now…

She touched her cheek again and sighed. She could feel it still tingling. The man she was talking to laughed and she laughed in response. She knew this pompous dance too well to actually be interested. She just nodded silently and kept thinking.

“You look beautiful.”

She smiled inwardly. She knew that he would like the way she looked.

“Excuse me sir,” she interrupted sweetly, her voice as smooth as honey, the man in front of her practically salivated. “Would you happen to know the time?”

Three men answered her. “Nine fifty five.”

She smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, I have to go and announce something. Will you excuse me for a moment?” It wasn’t a question.

“Only if you promise to come back,” the dollar/euro/yen man said charmingly before grasping her hand softly and pressing a rather wet kiss to the back of her knuckles.

“Of course,” she assured him even though she was lying through her teeth. “Excuse me,” she said again and began to float away. Yes, she could float. She glided through the heavy masses of people and came towards the podium that had been erected. Swiftly, she pulled small note cards out of her purse and examined them once more–even though she knew them by heart. She put them back in, straightened her shoulders, and walked towards her boss.

Aizen was standing near the podium, his hand raised in order to signal the symphony to cease playing. Rukia slid over to him and smiled happily.

“Good,” Aizen sighed, “You’re here a bit early, now if Ichigo would–”

“I’m here,” came a gruff voice from a few steps behind Rukia. She smiled and nodded to him once. She also fought the urge to touch her cheek again. He grinned at her and took a few steps closer. She could almost feel his suit against the exposed skin of her back.

“Are you two ready?” Aizen asked. The grin decorating his face made him look like a ten year old let loose inside of a candy store. He raised his hand and motioned to the symphony to stop playing. He then, in a grand, sweeping gesture, indicated to the rising that was erected just for them. Rukia was ready to ascend the limited stairs when she felt a warm hand grip her small fingers. She looked over and raised an eyebrow at her business partner, who was pointedly looking away from her. Nevertheless, her hand felt good in his. She carefully picked herself up each step, his hand steadying her as she went.

Ichigo–she would allow herself to call him Ichigo… but just for tonight–followed her quickly. They stood a good three feet taller than the audience before them and as soon as they turned to face the crowd and slew of photographers were in front of them. Rukia smiled prettily for the cameras and noted one woman was standing in the front wearing a dress as red as a fire engine and holding a tape recorder. She nodded to her and she nodded back. Rukia could only surmise that she was Tatsuki Arisawa from the Karakura Ledger. She’d have to fend her off for the rest of the night.

The music stopped playing. The caterers had disappeared tactfully to the sides of the room. Everyone in attendance had turned towards them. Rukia glanced down at Aizen and he gave her the go-ahead. She smiled wonderfully and began.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen.” She said and her voice floated across the room like a light and powdery sugar. “I’m sure you’re all quite happy to be here, we have a fantastic host, wonderful music, more champagne than we could ever wish for–” She paused for a light chuckle and a slight raising of the glasses. “However, I’m sure that not very many of you know exactly why we’re here, enjoying ourselves so thoroughly.”

Laughter rang out in the room and she noted several paunches jiggled. She smiled once again for the cameras and drew in a deep breath.

“Tonight, Mr. Ichigo Kurosaki and I, Rukia Kuchiki, are very pleased to announce a significant occurrence in our business world.” She glanced back at Ichigo and saw him smirking lightly. “We are working together on the merger of two amazing companies, The Gotei Corporation and Suigetsu Incorporated.”

A collective gasp ran throughout the room. Rukia felt like giggling insanely at the reaction. She knew it would be big but this… this was interesting. Several men had flipped out their cell phones and were calling their stock brokers, tiny blonde women were looking around in confusion, photographers had finally realized that this wasn’t just a chance to get free booze, and the reporters that were in attendance–including Ms. Arisawa–pulled out pens and pads of paper and began actually writing things down.

Rukia grinned and continued. “I know that this might seem a surprise but I from what I can see we have no where to go but up. Members of the press,” she said, looking down at those in front of her, “We have packets near the band that will give you any information that has been decided to be released about this event. All questions will be answered inside of them.”

She looked around the room once again before smiling and saying, “Thank you, and please do not panic just yet. The merger will not be complete for several more months. At which time you will have plenty of opportunities to harass your stock brokers. Please, enjoy the rest of the party.” She cut off with an air of finality that could not be compromised.

The press, however, could not be commanded by her ending. They began to ask a barrage of questions, all of which were left unanswered as Rukia descended the stairs–alone this time. She shook her head warmly and respectfully at all of them and once again disappeared into the crowd. This left them to attack Aizen like vultures.

Once she was far enough away to feel safe from any reporters she turned around and found her face in someone’s chest.

“You weren’t going to let me deal with them myself now, were you?”

Oh, that chest.

“Of course not.” Rukia said, backing up a few paces. “I knew you’d get away.”

“By some miracle, you mean.” He snorted.

“I thought you had friends in the press,” she commented, noticing how close he was to her. She could even smell him and… oh he smelled good.

“One friend, not an entire army of them.” He shook his head and looked back at the people who were attacking their boss. “I thought only a few papers would be admitted.”

“We decided on a larger bunch.” Rukia told him, looking speculatively at the crowd. “At least seven. We want to dominate the front page tomorrow, not just the business section.”

“Oh,” he gave her a sly look and cocked an eyebrow up, “You were the one who created the press packets, right?”

“Of course,” she grinned, “It took a while but I did it.” She rolled her shoulders and then her neck. “I was glad I did too. Now they’ll be stuck in those packets for the entire night instead of asking us questions.”

“It was pretty… innovative.” He muttered, keeping his hands inside of his pockets. Rukia looked sideways at him, something in his voice didn’t sound right.

“What?” She demanded, her voice developing the edge she hadn’t wanted to use this evening.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I just think, well, you could’ve done something more enjoyable with your time.”

She shook her head, “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “Just… something.”

“Yes well, you’ll be glad when you can dance with some of these women and not be interrupted by reporters.” She began to look around the room at the many couples waltzing to the newly resurrected music.

“I don’t want to dance with these women,” he said, his voice was soft but she still heard him. She turned her head to him and found the entirety of his intense, honeyed-amber eyes focused on her. He moved until he was standing completely in front of her. Rukia, for a moment, blessed her choice of footwear, at least for tonight she could look him in the chin instead of the collarbone. “I want to dance with you.”

Rukia didn’t take in the enormity of what he meant. Her brain, which she tried to tell herself was just a little loopy tonight, didn’t get what he was saying. She didn’t get that his eyes on her body were basically undressing her, she didn’t get that he wanted to dance with her so he could put his hands on her back and touch her skin, she didn’t get that he wanted to smell that wonderful scent she had chosen for tonight, she just… didn’t get it.

“You can dance?” She asked instead, her voice breathless.

His mouth quirked up but his dangerous eyes stayed on her. “I can dance.”

“Maybe in a minute.” She said, she almost felt uncomfortable at the way he was looking at her. “I need to go find Toshiro and ask him something about the wedding.”

She saw his jaw become tight but he nodded anyway. She nodded once, wanting to reach out and touch him but refraining from doing so. She knew that if she touched him she would end up dancing with him.

“Later then,” he said and she nodded again. She drew in a breath and turned away, feeling his eyes on her the entire time.

*~*~*

Ichigo watched her go.

“You can dance?”

“I can dance.”

He didn’t tell her that he could dance either vertically or horizontally. He was good at vertical but he was damn good at horizontal. Yet at this moment he wasn’t sure which one he would have preferred to do with her. After all, this was a party, they had to be proper.

He paused for a moment and stuffed a ball of something crab-like in his mouth.

Horizontal. Definitely horizontal. With her looking like that and smelling like that and talking like that… if there was a bed in here they would have been on it in three seconds flat. He frowned sourly and began to stalk away. They could just do it on the floor. He shuddered at the mental image. Or he was pretty sure he could hold her up against the wall. She was tiny after all.

She didn’t come back to dance with him though. The minutes ticked by and slowly transformed into hours. He waited, although he was quite sure that she wasn’t coming back anytime soon. She had seen the look in his eyes when he told her about his… dancing abilities. If she had any type of sexual receptors in her brain she would have realized what he actually meant.

It was probably better that she stay away from him. He had obviously had too much to drink tonight–even though he hadn’t touched anything alcoholic since she had entered the building. Still, he must have been on something because he was seriously considering trying to convince Rukia to come home with him so he could strip off all of her clothes and make her scream. He just wasn’t in his right mind. It was the only explanation he could think of to describe his completely strange behavior. Honestly, he was following her around the room, not physically per say, but his eyes watched her wherever she went. He saw her sparkling form waltzing with men barely able to stand without a cane. He watched her drink champagne from glasses brought to her by salivating caterers. He even watched her fend off Tatsuki several times, who was following her in an even more dogged manner than Ichigo.

Once, she came close enough to him that he could speak to her but once she realized that he was actually there she had turned and floated in the opposite direction. He considered going after her but thought better of it. He had to think clearly. He had to find a way to stop thinking about taking Rukia’s dress off.

“Sweet Jesus,” he cursed and looked up at the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. He blinked and wondered where the time had gone. Or, for that matter, where everyone else had gone. Only a few people lingered in the grand ballroom. He put his hand to his forehead and wondered if he had come down with a fever in the space of a few hours. Was it actually possible for him not to notice the hours melting away because he was so focused on one woman? Was it?

He swallowed and tried to force the thought away. His mind, although he told it not to, ended up going back to Rukia. She was one of the few people left in the ballroom, Aizen was also saying goodbye to a few guests, and the caterers were beginning to pack up what food was left over. Frowning, Ichigo wondered when Tatsuki and Uryu had left. They hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.

Maybe they did and you were just too fixated on Rukia to notice, he thought with a slight cringe of mental disgust. Just be lucky you’ve controlled your boner all night. He told himself dully.

He saw Rukia go off to the side of the room and shrugged. He might as well get home. It was late–or early depending on how you looked at it–he was tired, he was cranky, and he wasn’t getting laid so it would probably be best just to go home and have some sort of erotic dream about Rukia. That way he’d get it out of his system and be back to normal in the morning. That was it, he hadn’t jacked off with Rukia in his head ever before. He’d thought about her, sure, but never to the point of such, er, pleasure.

He strode across the room and reached Aizen. He had finally said goodbye to the owner of some sort of electronic company based in and was casually stretching his arms. His eyes lit up when he saw Ichigo approach and he held out his hand in a fatherly gesture.

“That was some shindig, wasn’t it Ichigo?” He laughed happily even though his voice gave his fatigue away.

“Yes it was,” he said, grimacing slightly. He was trying to smile but urgent thoughts of getting home and picturing Rukia naked kept him from doing so. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Oh we will,” Aizen assured him, “At the end of the merger and by that time I’ll sure you’ll have even more to celebrate.”

“Sure,” he sighed. He faked a yawn and tugged his hand out of Aizen’s fatherly grip. “I’m gonna get home. I’m beat.”

“Of course,” Aizen smiled, “Make sure you say goodbye to Rukia on your way out.”

“Will do,” he said and turned his back on his boss. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face as he ascended the stairs. The attendant handed him his jacket and he immediately checked the pockets for the keys. They jingled safely inside and he sighed. There was nothing like a man’s car to make him feel better. Especially if he needed cheering up about a woman.

“Vile bitch,” he snarled half-heartedly. “I shouldda just grabbed her onto the dance floor. I wouldn’t have stepped on her toes.” He snorted when he remembered one incident from earlier when Rukia’s toe had been jammed by a slimy trustee-baby in his forties. Ichigo’s mood darkened when he thought of that guy and how he had constantly kept stroking Rukia’s back with his thumb and breathing on her with his foul, eau de toilette breath. Sickening. He knew that he had tried to proposition her for later that evening but Rukia, being as savvy as she was, only laughed and said ‘No thank you’ and walked away.

Ichigo had wanted so badly to rip that man’s shriveling dick off of his body. He settled for accidentally spilling champagne on his ten thousand dollar outfit. Twice.

“Kurosaki!”

He froze. He pivoted. He looked down the stairs. He watched Rukia slowly walk up to him. He ceased to breathe.

She stood in front of him and nodded to the attendant, who brought over her shawl and placed it delicately around her shoulders. She smiled at him, thanked him, and then turned to Ichigo.

She smiled like an angel and nodded, “You look nice tonight too.” She stepped towards him, pressed her hand onto his shoulder, leaned up on her toes, and pecked him on the cheek. He couldn’t move as she returned to her normal height–for tonight anyway–and walked briskly away.

Ichigo could not think. He could barely breathe. That was the second time… the second time she had kissed him on the cheek. The second time she had pressed those soft lips of hers onto his skin.

The second time… and this time it was not enough.

He moved quickly, as quickly as he could in his, er, present state, anyway. His footsteps shadowed hers until he was only a few feet away. Rukia stepped into the elevator and after making a split-second decision, he followed.

Ichigo watched her eyes follow him as he entered the elevator. His eyes flashed as he took in her appearance once again. God she looked tantalizing in that little black number, with the fabric draped around her neck and shoulders, with the shimmering black cloth swirling around her legs, and the gaping back giving a tantalizing view of the milky planes of her shoulders all the way down to her perfectly rounded ass.

He slid into the elevator and noticed how she moved slightly away from him. He didn’t want that though. He wanted her to be as close to him as humanly possible. He wanted to feel her slick and naked against his overly heated chest. He wanted to feel her hot and tight around him as he pummeled into her. A kiss on the cheek wasn’t enough now. Not by a long shot.

The elevator doors closed and immediately he was assaulted by her freakishly fantastic scent. She was wearing something amazing, he couldn’t place the brand but he knew that whatever it was it was mixed with her essence. Her arrogant, overpowering, and completely sexy scent… It was fantastic.

Ichigo couldn’t take it anymore. All night he had had to watch her dance with men twice her age, smile prettily at them as though they were the only ones in the room, sip champagne with her dainty pinky finger raised, and flaunt that body of hers in that perfectly sexy dress. Fuck, the way she looked tonight should have been illegal. She should have been arrested for looking the way she did.

Ichigo swallowed thickly as images of fuzzy pink handcuffs, Rukia wearing nothing but a thong and black heels, and her body against his assaulted his mind. His brain was sizzling. The air inside of the elevator was so hot. It was beating down on him, pushing her scent further and further inside of him until he could barely stop himself from stopping this elevator, pushing her against the wall, and kissing the fuck out of her.

Ichigo felt his blood hum at the severity of his thoughts. Why was he thinking of kissing her when one of his rules was not to kiss anyone? For the past three years his life had been filled with situations like these and each time he had never felt a desire this strong to kiss someone. Uryu had chided him because of his stupid rule; he said he was like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman with his rule about kissing.

Maybe tonight that rule would finally be broken.

Before Ichigo knew what he was doing he took one step forward and pressed the stop button on the elevator.

“Kurosaki!” She spat angrily, turning to face him with eyes that told him she was ready to fight. “What the hell is wrong with–”

She didn’t get to finish. Her words were silenced. They came from her mouth and instead of being vocalized they were thrust into his mouth. She gasped when she felt one of his large hands come to the back of her neck and hold her there. Her eyes were open wide as she felt his soft and hot and insistent lips slide against hers. His eyes were open as well but only slightly. He could only see her flushed cheeks against her normally pale skin but none of it seemed to matter at the moment.

She was delicious.

Ichigo pressed his head further against her and listened to the glorious moan that escaped her throat. Ichigo wanted to touch that throat, kiss it, and cover it with little nips and bites. Another sound emanated from that creamy column of her neck and Ichigo felt his blood react immediately. The one hand at the back of her neck tightened even more and he tilted his head to the side. She was probably only letting him do this because she was surprised. Hell, he was surprised, when this evening started he had had no intention of kissing–or even touching–Rukia Kuchiki. He had even hated her for being late.

It was all her fault, he decided stubbornly, if she hadn’t worn that dress and donned that little spritz of whatever the hell she was wearing he wouldn’t be doing what he was doing now.

Her hands were pressing against his chest and Ichigo’s stomach immediately filled with ice. She wanted him to get off of her. Oh fuck he didn’t want to stop kissing her. He hadn’t even completely kissed her yet! While his lips tasted hers he hadn’t even sampled her exquisite flavor with his tongue yet. Still, it wasn’t in his nature to kiss someone when they were trying to push him off.

He knew she wanted it though. He knew it. Her flesh wouldn’t be heating and her skin wouldn’t be covered in goose-bumps if she didn’t want it.

Ichigo ripped his lips off of hers only when he felt her shove him for the, what was it… fourth? Yes, the fourth time.

Ichigo’s hand was still on the back of her head and the other was firmly planted on her arse–wait… when had his fingers started clenching that particular area?–he was breathing ridiculously hard and his heart felt like it was beating out of control. He didn’t know what color his face was but he knew that it must have been close to scarlet. The heat in the elevator was increasing tremendously and their proximity to one another didn’t help matters much.

Rukia had never looked more beautiful. Her supremely styled hair was mussed and falling down, her face was flushed and hot, her lips were pink and looked tremendously kissable, and her chest was heaving up and down. His hand pressed harder against her bottom and–to his everlasting surprise–the prudish Rukia Kuchiki did not say a word. She seemed to be trying so hard to string a completely competent sentence together so there was no way she could protest one hand on her ass… and such a firm ass at that, all supple and tight.

Her mouth opened several times to try and say something and each time Ichigo’s eyes flashed a dangerous shade. He could see her tiny pink tongue inside of that delectable mouth of hers. He wanted it, oh god he wanted it so badly…

“I–I… you–” her voice was garbled and husky. Her beautiful, liquid sapphire eyes were blinking at him in confusion and deep within those fantastic orbs he could see a myriad of emotions: desire, anger, heat… passion.

“What are you doing?” She croaked finally. It seemed to Ichigo that she just suddenly realized what position they were in. Her hands were flexing from their spots on his shirt front.

Ichigo’s eyes burned into hers and his hand tightened on the back of her head. “Kissing you.” He whispered and watched as the statement rolled over her entire body. She shuddered and the goose-bumps on her arms rose even more.

Ichigo bent his head back down and was met with no resistance. She even rose to meet him. Ichigo’s hand on her ass tightened to the point of bruising as his lips tore at her mouth. She gasped hard and Ichigo didn’t waste any time diving into that silky abyss of heat. A guttural groan escaped from the pit of his stomach and he felt his body pulsating with fire when her arms snaked from his chest to around his neck.

Ichigo’s tongue rammed itself against hers. He didn’t know how he could still be conscious after tasting the exquisite flavor that was Rukia Kuchiki. She was the most delicious mix of sweetness and danger. He could taste vanilla and champagne dancing upon her tongue. She groaned against him and he pressed his head wildly against hers. He needed more of this. She was like a hallucinogen. His mind was spinning deeper and deeper into the insanity that was this tiny woman. His brain seemed to be short circuiting as she battled him. Her fingers were weaving into his hair and his were tugging at her raven locks. Wearing her hair down was one of the catalysts of tonight. Seeing it fall around her face and her magnificent eyes like that had begun this cascade of desires inside of him.

He wretched his mouth away from hers and delighted in the whimper that came from her lips. The heat in the elevator was unbearable. He was sweating in his tuxedo and he could taste the beads of salty moisture on her neck. His tongue came from his mouth and he ran it along her neck. The heat from her skin and the salt from her sweat boiled swirled together and made his eyes roll back into his head. Her hands desperately mangled his hair and she arched her neck back. He nipped at the front of her creamy throat and she gasped. Her fingernails were digging into his scalp. His teeth bit at her skin.

Then she said something that made Ichigo want to throw her down onto the carpeted floor of the elevator and have her so hard neither of them would be able to move for hours.

His name escaped her lips. His first name without his last attached as a curse. The appellation was fragmented as they were wretched from her throat. The three syllables were broken into at least eight. Her chest heaved up and down. She began to say his name again and again and again. The more she said it the more desperate he became. Desperate for contact. Having her chest thud against his with each breath she took wasn’t enough.

He dug his hands into her ass and lifted her up. She gasped when her back connected solidly with the wall. The hand that had been on the back of her neck moved down until it rested on top of one of her thighs. He felt an intense shudder run down her body when he dug his fingers between her legs and pried them apart. She resisted for a minute before tightening her arms around his neck and shoving her legs apart.

He wondered if what she felt when he pressed himself completely against her was expected. He could only assume as much seeing how she was driving him nearly completely insane just by the way she was touching him. Her reaction, however, still came and it was everything he ever wanted and more.

She threw her head back hard against the elevator wall. Her mouth was open and desperately gasping for air while her nails dug into his tuxedo jacket.

“Shit!” She gasped. Ichigo’s hands slid under her ass, holding her and supporting her, as he ground into her as hard as he could and as fast as he could. He didn’t know when her sense of reason would finally kick in and force her to stop him. He didn’t know if he could take that. He did not want to leave this damn elevator with the biggest case of blue balls ever recorded in history.

Her face was now completely level with his. When she finally brought her head back down to his one of her hands moved from his shoulder up to his hair. She yanked his hair back to her and then slammed his lips onto hers.

Ichigo kissed her like he had never kissed a woman before in his life. Their mouths were opened completely so they could devour as much of each other as possible. She bit his lips and then stroked the marks. He pushed his tongue so far into her that he wouldn’t have doubted if he had stolen her voice. Meanwhile his legs were pressed between hers. His throbbing erection was pushing through his pants and rubbing hard into her. He shivered when he thought of what she must feel like underneath the few scraps of cloth… warm, dripping wet, and tantalizingly sexual.

His chest molded to hers and before he could stop himself one of his hands left her perfectly formed ass and skimmed up her side. His hand gripped her breast and he delighted in how well it fit into the palm of his hand. She squeaked into his mouth and he continued to tease her. Soon enough he began to yearn for her mouth to moan the way it moaned when he touched her breast. He wanted to hear her gasp out his name again and again until her throat was sore and dry.

His palm skimmed up even more until his fingers were braced on the strap of her dress. He tugged it down, exposing more and more of her fantastically white skin until he felt the rosy tip of her nipple puckering against his touch.

He hadn’t even noticed that her hand was doing a bit of exploring as well. Her fingers were spread and running down the entire length of his chest. He shuddered when she touched his abdomen and then trailed even lower until she was gripping him in her hand.

He murmured her name into their kiss and grunted when her hold on him tightened. If he wasn’t careful he’d come right now… ruining both his chances and his best tux all because of his lack of self-control. He pressed his thumb against her nipple and she jerked violently.

Ichigo didn’t know what happened next, all he could be sure of was that the formerly pleasant hold she had on his cock had tightened to the point of pain. He grunted and ripped his lips from hers.

“Rukia, what the fu–ahh!” He felt like convulsing it hurt so much.

She was panting and sliding down the wall of the elevator, all the while her hand was still holding his dick as tightly as she possibly could. Ichigo curled in against himself and planted either of his hands on the walls beside her. He didn’t know what was going on. Was she doing some sort of weird S and M thing that he should be aware of? Was she enjoying this? Was he supposed to chime in some sort of universal safe word? Wait…

Was she stopping him?

“Rukia…” he ground out, his teeth completely gritted together and his eyes a feral shade of gold. His snarl turned into a yelp when she squeezed him once again and he immediately felt like going into the fetal position.

She sidled over to the side and pressed the start button on the elevator pad. The lights came back on, the sounds of the machines started up again, and the ground beneath them began to move again.
“What,” he wheezed, “The hell… are you… doing?”

He didn’t see Rukia gulp before she answered him. “You might be an excellent kisser, Kurosaki,” she panted. “But I’m not that far gone.”

The elevator dinged and she released Ichigo’s balls from her iron grip. He felt like crying in relief but realized that he couldn’t actually feel his nuts.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw her adjust her underwear, straighten her dress, and comb her fingers through her hair before exiting the elevator and walking out into the lobby.

She didn’t look back but Ichigo could tell in the way she wobbled, trembled, and shook that she was not as in control as she wanted him to think she was.




(A/N: So… what do you think? I like it but then again, I’m biased. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I was astounded at the amount I received for my last chapter, 39 if I’m not mistaken, you guys are seriously the best!

College is going okay, I’m fitting in better than I thought I would. You wouldn’t believe how many Bleach/fanfiction nuts there are here! Woot woot! I have found my circle!

PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO REVIEW! I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU DO!)