Note: GUHGLDSNKDSJF. So, uh. Yeah. More IchiRuki, obviously. Thar be smut here, and I hope it's not too terribly awkward, haha. Anyway, there's not really a specific time or anything? Just writing. Anyway... enjoy, review, apologies for any OOCness, etc.

"When do you have to go back?"

The question makes Kuchiki Rukia halt and turn to him. They've been studying for the past hour, and both of them have noticed the thick tension in the air (not like they'd ever admit to that; why should they be so tense around one another after all they've been there together?). Rukia doesn't expect him to say anything, so when he does, it's a shock.

She considers his question. Rukia makes sure to avoid his eyes because she's afraid of what she'll see there. Then, she feels ashamed. A Kuchiki should never, under any circumstances, feel afraid about anything. No exceptions. The mere fact that she's scared of something so minor is so shameful that Rukia feels a lump forming in her throat.

Or maybe that lump is there for other reasons.

He's still waiting. Rukia hesitates, then turns to him. Ichigo has been watching her this whole time, hands loosely holding the English book. For some reason, he looks much older than a teenage boy. She notes the dark circles under his eyes (he hasn't slept at all) and the lines on his forehead. His permanent scowl is more defined these days. He doesn't smile, doesn't laugh. He does what he has to, whether it be slaying Hollows or doing homework or giving his little sisters a smile that's forced and doesn't reach his eyes and that Rukia and his father don't buy one bit.

"Rukia."

His voice is soft and tired. Rukia purses her lips. "... Soon, Ichigo," she replies. Ichigo's shoulders slump, just a tiny bit. Quickly, she glances away. She doesn't apologize, because she doesn't need to. Ichigo has always known her better than anyone, and he knows when she feels guilty. The tension is still there, but muted, and a much different type.

The bed creaks. Ichigo lets his book drop to the ground with a soft thud and moves closer to Rukia, so that their shoulders are touching. At first, she stiffens, then relaxes, and Ichigo covers her hand with his much warmer one. Again, she doesn't look at his face, his eyes. Somehow, though, she knows what's there. Warmth. Sadness. And something else she doesn't want to admit.

"Rukia. Come on, look at me. You're making me nervous here."

Rukia swallows and turns her face upward. He grins, then, and Rukia chuckles. "... Idiot," she mumbles, and turns her hand over. Their palms touch. Rukia curls her hand around his. Startled, he stares at her. Those brown eyes widen, and Rukia's eyes stay calm and cool, a mask to hide the feelings building and threatening to explode within her.

They end up kissing. Ichigo's lips are rough and warm and clumsy, but Rukia wouldn't have it any other way. Ichigo is, after all, still a boy. He's inexperienced. But that inexperience makes her blood boil and rise to show through her cheeks and neck and shoulders. He's impatient, too: his hands tug at the nightclothes that aren't really hers. When his fingers slide underneath her shirt and up her stomach and to her breasts, Rukia's breath hitches.

"Ichigo," she gasps. It surprises her how wound up just his lips on her neck are making her. Her gasp isn't meant to stop him; no, it's meant to do just the opposite, and when he hears his name from kiss-swollen lips, it spurs him on. He becomes bolder, teeth nipping at pale skin. Surely she'll have marks the next day, but she won't care. Rukia won't care that there will be whispers, even though they hardly act different. The marks will speak volumes, though, and everyone will know.

She noticed it earlier, but when he kisses her again, she realizes what that bitter taste is. It's a mixture of sadness and regret, and she's sure he can taste it on her. Not once has she wanted to leave. But fate has rarely smiled upon them both. She stays no more than a few days, now. At the most, she's stayed only a few months. It's not enough. They both know this. They can't do anything to stop it, though. She has her duties as a shinigami. He is a human boy. He has duties and promises to honor here.

It doesn't stop them from wanting more time.

Ichigo's fingers brush her inner thigh. Rukia wonders when her clothes were shed, and when his were thrown haphazardly to the ground. Ichigo has scars, tiny ones that weren't healed for some reason. Her fingers trace them, and Ichigo shudders beneath her touch. When she looks up at his face, her heart stutters. His eyes are squeezed shut, brow furrowed, his mouth half-open as he pants. More than anything, his face is twisted into an expression of grief.

"Sorry," Ichigo whispers when he opens his eyes. She wonders what her expression looks like. From his eyes, she can tell that it's not pretty.

Rukia touches his cheek. "Ichigo... are you sure about this? There's no going ba—"

He chuckles. "I know that, Rukia. I'm not an idiot." She opens her mouth to protest, but Ichigo silences her with a kiss, long and toe-curling. "I mean, I'm not an idiot when it comes to you. I know I'm an idiot about a lot of things. But never about you."

For a long time, she's speechless. In many ways, he's practically confessing to her, and she doesn't know how to put her feelings into words. Ichigo smiles, though.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm pretty sure I know how you feel. You feel the same, right? And don't lie to me. I know you better than that, Rukia."

She watches him. Then, a slow smiles breaks out across her lips. "Fool," she whispers, tracing his collarbone. She watches him shudder and his lips part. "Of course I do."

"Good. 'Cause I'm not stopping," he says, and pushes into her. Rukia tenses and squeezes her eyes shut; he's too big, too thick for her. Her ears ring, and she doesn't hear it but she lets out a pained whimper that makes him still. "R-Rukia?"

"I-idiot," Rukia gasps. Ichigo winces. Her fingers are gripping his arms, the nails digging in deeply and painfully. "Y-you don't just... j-jump right in," she says, her voice faint and weak. Ichigo opens his mouth, but Rukia shakes her head. "Give me a moment," she whispers, and closes her eyes. She draws in deep, shaking breaths. Ichigo waits, but it's practically torture: she's hot and wet and tight around him.

When she opens her eyes and nods to him, it feels like an eternity has passed. She gives him the go-ahead in the form of her mouth, hot and wet, on his. He starts moving, then, and he hears himself groaning and moaning as he moves inside of her. Beneath him, Rukia is making soft but clear noises that only make him harder and want to move harder, faster. He doesn't, though. He doesn't want to hurt her – he never has. Ichigo is impatient, but when it comes to Rukia, he'll wait.

Just like he always has.

After a while, Ichigo nearly loses control when he feels her heels digging into the backs of his thighs. It means that she wants him to go faster, and harder. Ichigo does just that. He gasps and his fingers dig into her hips; she'll have bruises there, but she doesn't care. What matters is that she feels him, only him; around her, inside of her, and she feels more complete than she has in years.

Ichigo shudders and tenses; Rukia's body bows upward and she clenches down on him, her fingers painfully gripping his arms. They're both panting, even as Ichigo moves out of her and folds her up into his arms. He holds her against his chest, nose buried deep in her hair. They're a mess, the two of them, all sweaty and sticky and flushed, but neither of them cares.

Finally, Ichigo looks down at Rukia. She's caught her breath by now, and her head is nestled against his chest. "Rukia," he murmurs, and she looks up.

"Don't go all sappy on me, Ichigo," she says. Her voice is firm and hard, but her eyes are soft and warm and her lips are turned up in a smirk.

Ichigo scowls and rolls his eyes. "I wasn't going to," he says, and it's a lie.

"You're a horrible liar."

"Shut up," Ichigo huffs, but he smiles slightly. It's nice to see, despite how startled Rukia is by it. "I'd never be sappy with a 'noble woman' as hard-assed as you are."

Rukia glares at him and punches him in the arm. It's different from her other punches: this one is light and playful. "And you're an insufferable moron."

"Midget."

"Idiot."

They glare at one another. It doesn't last long, though; Ichigo cracks first, and he goes from glaring to smiling – it's small and hard to see, but it's there and Rukia knows it. In return, she gives him a small smile of her own, and she kisses him.

The two of them don't exchange words of affection. They don't need to. Just that slow, comfortable smile – no matter how slight it is – is enough for them.