Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Safe Sex ❯ Underwear ( Chapter 6 )

Underwear

 

By Tituba

 

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

 

(A/N: Another IchiRuki smut-fest. Background of other characters will come later.

I would love reviews! So if you feel like writing one feel free! Kisses to all who already have!

Tell me what you think, Tituba.)

 

 

 

I tugged on my underwear and lightly cursed my boyfriend for being such a sex fiend. He was lying on the bed, watching me as I dressed. My hair was a frizzled mess and my body was covered in a light pink tinge.

 

While I did love it when he would spontaneously grab me from work, shunpo me back to his house, and then proceed to fuck me senseless, the outcome of our expenditures was quite taxing. Especially considering the fact that it happened nearly once every week. Not to mention that the spontaneous fucking was in conjunction with the normal sex every couple of nights.

 

“Ru… ki… a,” he groaned and shifted around on the bed. The blankets were twisted around his body but with the way he was wiggling made it exceedingly likely that his still-engorged parts would possibly be making a reappearance.

 

I narrowed my eyes and glanced over at him. Oh fuck… did he look good. His body was so relaxed and it was practically glowing. Light filtered into the room and sprayed over his luscious form, showering it in honey tones of gold. She could see his muscles practically rippling in the late afternoon sun. His tight abdomen was riddled with grooves and lines and scars that were so much more pronounced in the spectacular light filtering into the room. He had one arm draped over his stomach; his fingers were resting on the light trail of ginger curls that drove down towards his nether regions. The other hand was lying atop his head, smushing his orange mop of hair against his scalp.

 

He looked almost… Grecian, like he was the epitome of strength, muscularity, and even beauty. Granted, if anyone were to choose him as a subject model they would have to sculpt a different face for him—he just frowned too much, but still… if a neck-and-down model were needed, Ichigo would be a prime choice.

 

“What?” I asked him, my voice cracked a bit and I mentally scolded myself.

 

He looked over at me lazily and shifted slightly on the bed. He was now turned on his side and staring at me with his molten, golden-brown eyes. I had just finished clasping my bra and chanced to meet his gaze. A slow smirk was on his face as he looked me up and down, as if he were inspecting every inch of my body so it could be permanently folded into his memory. I had to suppress the urge to gulp at his intense scrutiny.

 

He propped up one arm and rested his head in his palm. He squinted his eyes a bit and then cast them down to our crumpled mess of kosode's, shihakusho's, and obi's lying on the floorboards. Somewhere among them were his boxer shorts but I couldn't tell where.

 

“What?” I asked again, more insistent this time.

 

His eyes took a while to slither up the rest of my body and meet mine. Not that I minded really, I loved it when he did that—when he took so long to look at me that it felt like he was undressing me with his eyes. It was like a type of silent foreplay.

 

“Rukia,” he asked again, “Why do you wear underwear?”

 

The warm and fuzzy feeling that had been pooling in the pit of my stomach suddenly vanished.

 

“What?” I deadpanned.

 

Ichigo casually shrugged his shoulders and began to rove my body once again with his eyes, this time there was no silent foreplay, only speculation.

 

“What do you mean why do I wear underwear?” I asked, my face was fuzzed with bewilderment and my tone was slight cynical, but hey, the man wasn't making any sense.

 

“I mean, other Soul Reapers,” he began as he sighed and scratched a random itch on his body. “I don't really think they wear underwear.”

 

“Of course they do!” I cried. I was trying to block out the mental image of my brother being stark naked under his shihakusho. Just… hanging.

 

“Well, other than the kosode.” He reasoned and my face reddened horribly. How could he be speaking about his so casually while I was trying to stop seeing my brother free as a fucking bird. “But bras and panties… that I don't really know about.”

 

My jaw dropped and my brain was permanently scarred forever.

 

He slid onto his back and stared at the ceiling in contemplation. “There are those things that the guys wear instead of boxers or briefs, but those are more like Tarzan loincloths than anything else. And the shihakusho is pretty thick so it kind of, well, you know, presses everything down for girls.”

 

A vein was beginning to tick in my forehead. “Put a lot of thought into this, have you?” My arms were crossed over my bare stomach and he simply chuckled.

 

“I mean, I've always worn the underwear I brought from the human world and I know you do too but does everyone else wear it?” He asked conversationally, as if he never heard a words I said. “And when you think about it, you do have breasts, they're smaller than normal but they're still there, but you'd never notice them because they're always packed underneath your shihakusho.”

 

“Was that a compliment?” I ground out, feeling the vein continuing to tick.

 

He gave me a laughing stare and sighed, “And when you look at people like Rangiku you kind of get the impression that she's not wearing anything underneath.”

 

I think something must have ruptured in my eyes because the next thing I knew I was seeing red. “And you… what? Know that from personal experience?” I demanded through gritted teeth.

 

He scoffed and shook his head, grinning lightly at me, “Of course not love.”

 

I saw his body arching to stand up but I didn't really know what he was going to do until I felt his reiatsu flare up. He suddenly shunpo-ed from the bed, grabbed my arms, and then transported us back to the silken sheets, all in less than a second.

 

“Ichigo!” I cried, tiredly fighting him back. Like I said before, I love the spontaneous sex and all but I absolutely hate the fact that it's keeping me from doing the paperwork I'll have to finish tomorrow.

 

“Rukia,” he teasingly chastised as he rubbed his naked body—the sheet had fallen off during shunpo—against mine. I could feel his missile of an erection stroking me through my thin panties. My nipples were hardening as one diligent hand began a leisurely stroking of my stomach.

 

“Now you know,” he whispered as he let his hot breath lave my skin, “That the only breasts I ever want to look at are yours.”

 

He emphasized his point by flicking his fingers across my mulberry nub—still hidden under the lace of my bra. I moaned and could feel my sex growing wet with hunger.

 

“…Pitifully small as they are.”

 

I groaned resentfully and squinted up at him. “After you fuck me this time you are so not getting sex for a month.”

 

Ichigo grinned and moved his hands to hook his thumbs in the hem of my panties. “We'll see about that.” He said as his pointer finger slid across my dripping folds.

 

My bra was off before I could think and his mouth was devouring my breast. I arched against him as his insatiable fingers slid inside of me and began to pump purposefully.

 

“You shouldn't…” he panted softly as my hands went down to wrap around his thick erection. I caressed him gently but with a growing urgency that we both felt. “Break with… t-tradition.” He finished. I could barely hear him. His skillful fingers were working on my insides while his thumb rubbed my clit. The sensation was mind-boggling.

 

I attempted to slide every inch of my body against his while we pleasured one another. He was gasping, I was groaning, we were both seeking release. I let out a small scream when his fingers came out of me and were immediately replaced with something much larger.

 

We moved as one. His thrusts were timed perfectly with each rolls of my hips—that's what happens when you've been fucking as long as we have. But Ichigo's energy was something that is purely indescribable. He entered the Soul Society as a fully fledged Shinigami at the age of twenty five so even one hundred and fifty years later he's still embarrassingly young. But oh, he's vivacious and feverish and vigorous whenever we're intimate. I was like a finely tuned instrument and only he knew how to play me properly. That was how well we worked together.

 

His thrusts were hot and hard and my nails carved crescents into his back. I bit him desperately on the shoulder and he pulled my thighs up around his waist. I cried out when he pinched my clit and I thrashed my head wildly as he pounded into me harder and harder.

 

When I came, I came so hard that I couldn't feel the tips of my toes. I contracted with such force that Ichigo had to slow his ministrations for fear of not being able to continue thrusting. I threw my head back and could swear I felt my eyes dilating as I rode the waves of my orgasm. It was not long before Ichigo came as well. He slammed into me as he cried out… hard and hot. Warm liquid filled me and was miraculously able to resuscitate the sensations in my toes.

 

He collapsed soon afterwards, melding onto my body as I held him. I loved it when he did that, let me hold him, that is. He always thought he was too heavy for me but I enjoy having him press against me, making me heavy, pushing me down into the soft featheriness of the bedding.

 

Once our pants subsided marginally he rolled off of me and pulled me against him. I cuddled my head to his chest and smiled wearily. I knew for a fact that I wasn't getting back to Squad Thirteen anytime today.

 

Oh well, paperwork be damned.

 

So I simply rested between his arms, reveling in the romance of what we were doing. I loved lying down with him after sex. He smelled so potent and heady that it was like a drug, just lulling me peacefully to sleep.

 

“You should definitely stop wearing underwear,” Ichigo murmured into my hair, “It would make undressing you that much easier.” He snickered lightly and tightened his hold on me.

 

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Some things would never change.