Summary: What is the body but a mask of blood, flesh, and bone? Kink.
A/N: Giving credit where it's due: rii no ame's 'Curiosity' and Vera Rozalsky's 'Amends or Truth and Reconciliation' are where I draw my influences for this particular piece.
***Warnings: This is a one-shot IchiRuki kink fic, rated M! If kink, mature situations involving these two characters, and role/gender reversals are not your thing, turn back NOW. You have been warned.
Standard Disclaimer: Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.
It had started as most things do, with a question.
"Don't tell me you have never even considered it?" she had asked, her violet eyes glinting in a playfully mischievous way.
And it's not like the thought had never crossed his mind, but while Ichigo was content to just leave off at wondering, he had long since learned that Rukia had no boundaries to her inquisitive drive.
He should have known that once the idea had occurred to her, she wouldn't be able to let it go until she took it one step further from wondering to actually doing.
"Want to give it a try?" she asked, mouth curving up slyly.
Lured by her easy smile, he didn't immediately say no.
oOooOooOo
Swapping bodies was a lot easier than he had thought. All it took was the judicious application of one substitute shinigami badge.
And now he's inside inside her body in an entirely new way. As he looks from his new shorter vantage point at Rukia, who is now seated within his own body, he wonders if his inability to say no to her has come to bite him in the ass.
She's examining her or rather his (it's his body) with a wonder that looks out of place on his face. Rukia likes the height of his body; he can tell, because she reaches upward, flexing and extending long arms and touches the ceiling. Her expression is one of rapture and delight and Ichigo wonders how his body feels to her, whether she feels the tightly coiled tension of his muscles, the inherent strength in his long arms and legs.
As for himself, the ceiling is further away and everything looks bigger in her diminutive form. She feels small and delicate. He examines the pale graceful arms and legs, with their light birdlike bones and the slim, limber body which is Rukia's, so familiar, and dear, yet so different now that he is in it. He runs a small hand down smooth skin and over the dips and curves of his new body, and trails lingering fingers lightly across the nipples of her/his breasts and watches fascinated as they tighten into hard pebbles.
"What do you think?" Rukia asks grinning lazily. She has abandoned self-exploration in favor of watching him pilot her own body. Languidly, she runs an idle hand down the tanned chest and the tight muscles of his torso.
Ichigo looks up, startled at his own voice, just a little husky and higher in timbre than he had imagined hearing himself in his own head. It's Rukia, using his vocal chords, and Rukia, in his body staring at him with a hunger that smolders like burning embers behind dark brown eyes. He never imagined he could look that way, so full of desire, and yearning. The look that she flashes him from his body is hot and fiery and ignites a corresponding heat throughout him.
"I..." he tries, it's a bizarre feeling to hear himself in her voice. He shrugs and points to his chest. "I have breasts."
"Very articulate, Ichigo," she says, laughing and it's a low, smoky rumble that reverberates out of her chest.
Ichigo looks up at Rukia. "How does it feel to finally be tall?" he snickers. Rukia's voice, though atypically lower in register than most females, takes some getting used to. The sly expression on his face feels perfectly at home, as if the face he's now wearing sports it often.
"Shut up," she growls and the voice really is a growl coming from the low vocal chords of his body. "I had no idea I was this small," she says looking down at him hands on her waist, hips cocked. The feminine stance looks strange on his body.
"So," he says, unable to stop himself from bringing his hand to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "How are we going to do this?"
"I would have thought that was obvious," Rukia says in a rough husky voice.
Her larger hand closes around his cooling shoulders and draws him to the bed, where she presses him down gently and cages him with her larger body, arms on either side of his head, longer legs straddling his hips. Being surrounded by hard angles is entirely new for him and every point of contact between their bare skin burns. Different, but not unpleasant.
His eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, it feels disconcertingly like he's looking into a mirror. His own face hovers over him. Soft orange spikes brush his forehead. Ichigo is suddenly at a loss. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. It feels too bizarre to be touching his own body so he lets his hands rest awkwardly at his sides.
Rukia, that minx, is wearing his smirk at him as she gazes down with an arch look. She's stroking the black hair that fans out on the pillow around him. She caresses his face with long slender fingers and says, "What's wrong, too much for you?" She rocks the firm hot length of her against him, and he gasps, his hands flying up involuntarily, nails digging into the taut skin stretched over lean narrow hips. Between his legs, he feels a flush of wet heat.
"Never," he says stubbornly, meeting her challenge head-on. But the thing is, he can't quite let go of his apprehension. Or the disturbing feeling that getting fucked by Rukia in her body as she is disguised as himself is some kind of transgressive perversity that he shouldn't really enjoy.
She looks down at him with a soft look in her half-lidded eyes. The expression is so similar and but on the sharp angles of his face, it is also quite different. Rukia seems to read the unease in his eyes, the trepidation in his tensed form.
Large hands skim his borrowed body from his clavicle on downward, leaving trails of heat in their wake. "Just relax," she whispers. She traces his body in soothing patterns in a way that is meant to say, let me take care of you.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out, letting the tension slip from his shoulders, and relaxes his tight muscles. "Alright," he concedes. "Go on, do what you want."
He trusts her, and really this is the whole point of the endeavor isn't it? To take a look on the other side, to share each other in new ways.
Rukia smiles at him warmly, tenderly touching his cheek. "It'll be fun," she promises.
"Right, fun..." he muses that there are so many other adjectives that are more apt at the moment, with awkward and embarrassing being high on the list.
Without further ado, she tilts the strong angled jaw down, achingly slow until it meets his soft lips. His eyes close, enjoying the sensation of closeness and intimacy. He's kissing himself, the way Rukia would kiss him and she's doing the same. Her lips are firm and a little rough on his. The way her lips move against his, beg entrance to his mouth and he lets her in, sucking on her tongue gently. It's a slow and languid kiss that sets a slow burn between them. Familiar desire courses through his body.
Ichigo rakes his nails down the front of her chest in a way he knows she'll like, and she smothers a shaky moan in his mouth. Suddenly, the intensity deepens, the kisses are bruising, and she scrapes her lips, her teeth along the pale column of his neck, runs her hot tongue over his collarbone, breasts. Rukia's hips shift into his, and she runs a hand up his thigh.
The banked fires of smoldering desire building up between them catch ablaze. And the friction, oh god, the friction is unbearable, exhilarating, not enough. She looks at him, face flushed with dark knowing eyes.
More. He wants more. Heat blooms and coils in his lower abdomen. One hand goes to the small of her back, pulling her closer and the other hand rubs a thumb over her hipbone down to hard heat, tugging gently.
She hisses in pained pleasure and brings a large hand down, sliding it over the gentle curvature of his waist, and touches long nimble fingers lightly against the moist heat of him.
She leans her head down and nuzzles him in the shell of his ear with the angled profile of her nose. "So wet," she purrs against his throat.
His back arches off the sheets and he wants, no needs to get closer. Ichigo's hands fumble for something to grab on to. And suddenly she pulls off.
He chokes out a frustrated, needy whine from deep in his throat and barely recognizes the sound.
"Are you ready?" she asks, strong hands running up and down his legs, hot heat in her eyes.
He looks down between them to the hard evidence of her arousal. Heat creeps up his face. Oh hell no.
From his new perspective, she looks intimidatingly large. Despite all logic and prior experience (from the other end), it doesn't seem possible that they would fit. He is gripped by fear and suddenly, he feels like a virgin and realizes with a jolt, that he is. He has never been on the receiving end of...this.
Rukia bends down and rests her head against his neck, cups his face, and kisses his cheek. When she pulls back, there is soft understanding in her eyes. "We can swap back if you really want." She won't ask of him more than he is ready to give. She never does.
Ichigo suddenly feels ashamed. They have saved and protected each other by turns until all notions of 'debt' have disappeared. Their's is a bond of giving and receiving in equal measure. There was nothing that he wouldn't do for her and her for him, so what the hell was he afraid of? He realizes that all this time he had been distracted by the external and all the hang-ups that go with it, but what was the body but a mask of blood, flesh, and bone?
Underneath it was still Rukia, only it was her spirit in his body. Whatever outer form Rukia wore wouldn't change the distilled essence of her soul within it. When he thought about it like that, it wasn't so scary after all. It wasn't frightening and it wasn't perverse, not in the least. There's just him and her and nothing off limits between them.
"I'm ready," he says, and he means it. He wants to share this first with her.
Rukia gently nudges his knees apart and he shivers, equal parts nerves and anticipation. There's an airy, open feeling of vulnerability. He's looking up at her trying to communicate all his trust with his silent gaze and she sees it, holds it in profound reverence as she leans her big body into his, and drops soft kisses over his brows.
He closes his eyes as he feels his body part around hers, and he grits his teeth and tenses against the intrusion.
"Relax, and breathe," Rukia coaxes him encouragingly in a low voice as she strokes his cheeks, his breasts, his thighs.
Slow, and undemanding, she rocks into him gently, and when he relaxes, she slips into the heated center of him. They rest unmoving, and he savors the new and unfamiliar, the sweet sensation of stretching, and the hardness and heat that is buried inside of him. He feels a rush of pleasure as her muscles tremble and tense over him, to know he affects her as deeply as she affects him.
"How do you feel?" Rukia asks worriedly, concern overriding arousal.
The achy fullness of desire rests deep within him and he relishes the thrill of heady new feelings. His eyes meet hers and a slow smile curves up his lips. More amazing than I ever thought.
"I feel like there's too much talking, and not enough doing." he says a little breathlessly as he tilts his hips up toward her. They both bite back a gasp and her eyes darken in mingled tenderness and desire.
Rukia moves against him, gentle and insistent. Ichigo feels himself relax, invites her in fully, as they explore each other's bodies with languid hands and lips, taking each other to unknown places and higher heights. There are no boundaries and no barriers between them.
The deep trust and affection, the respect and regard they hold for each other moves his world. He offers her everything, knowing she does the same.
Take everything of me, my body/soul, it's all yours.