The moment the words left her lips, Rukia Kuchiki knew she was making a mistake.
A report had come in - the shinigami in charge of Karakura Town were having trouble with stronger than normal Hollow. Ishida and the others normally took care of them, but of course three school kids couldn't be everywhere all the time; a request had come in for an upper-rank soldier to take care of it.
She had heard about it from Ukitake, who was placed in charge of finding someone. Without even thinking about it, she volunteered. He'd raised an eyebrow - the Hollow wasn't so strong that a 3rd seat had to trouble themselves over it - but permitted her to go nevertheless.
Since this was to be a short mission, they asked Urahara if they could use the senkaimon at his store instead of troubling the higher-ups. He told her she had half a day to dispatch the nuisance and come back. She had the job done in under an hour.
'I could go right back to the Soul Society...' she mused, 'or I could take advantage of the opportunity to say hello to everyone. That's probably why Captain-san allowed me to go in the first place.'
A nearby clock chimed; it was only 3pm. None of them would be out of school for another hour, and she knew they generally frowned upon shinigami randomly showing up to their classes. But it seemed such a waste to let a sudden break slip by.
She pondered what else to do in the human world for a bit, and then noticed that she was in front of the Kurosaki Clinic. Her wanderings had unconsciously led her here, her home in the human world. She hadn't been here in months.
Immediately nostalgia flooded her senses, followed by a distinct feeling of loss. Ichigo had lost all of his powers months before in order to subdue Aizen. She regretted that the fight didn't kill him, but hearing the bastard sentenced to 20,000 years in harshest prison of the Soul Society wasn't bad either. But it also meant that there was nothing here for her anymore either.
Or was there? She still hadn't seen Isshin since that day, and definitely still had some questions to ask him. Rukia also knew his younger sister Karin could see her as well. Maybe there was no harm in stopping by after all.
She phased through the front door, expecting to see the Kurosaki patriarch with a patient or milling about the house, but there was no one. Isshin seemed to be out. And it only just occurred to her that if Ichigo was at school, then so were his sisters.
"What?! Boring!" she groaned. "My first time back to the human world since winter, and I have to go right back! I can't believe everyone's too busy to talk to me." She turned on her heel, ready to walk dejectedly back to Urahara's shop, when one last thought occurred to her. If no one was home, then that just meant there was no one to stop her from having some fun by herself!
She started off by raiding the kitchen of the least of its senbei crackers, and poking around the strange doohickeys the human world passed for medical equipment. (She wondered if it was Ryuuken-san who taught Isshin how to be a doctor.) When a quick search of Isshin's quarters turned up no interesting artifacts or answers to his mysterious past, Rukia found herself in Ichigo's room.
Her intention was to visit her old living quarters (i.e. his closet) and be on her way. She told herself she wouldn't spend too long in there, before her emotions got the best of her. Problem is, her emotions worked a lot quicker than she liked these days.
The moment she stepped into his room, she was struck by the smell; Ichigo. His smell was everywhere, as well as trace amounts of his reiatsu. This was both the place where they first met and where they began to forge their friendship. Looking from the window, she could also see where they said goodbye.
Rukia sat on the bed. She had patted herself on the back for how well she'd hid it, but that seemed to be coming to an end. It was bad enough that she was adopted from the Rukongai, but she'd officially be the laughingstock of the Kuchiki family if they knew she had fallen for a human! He was centuries her junior, after all, and certainly didn't have the temper of a noble.
But she also knew him to be kind, and brave, and stubborn. She admired and respected him. Before she knew it, her heart had gotten itself in trouble. Thankfully she wasn't the type to let her body and mind be so easily swayed by affairs of the heart!
She flopped over on the bed and gazed out the window. But what if you were? a voice from within seemed to ask. Rukia herself had been stubborn and goal-oriented, but on purpose. From the moment she realized her own feelings, she threw herself into missions and training. She shoved aside anything regarding Ichigo that wasn't getting him ready to defeat Aizen and his espada. Finally, she thought saying goodbye would cease her pinings. But they'd only gotten stronger in the ensuing months.
Now she was plagued by dreams and visions: his toned arms wrapped around her waist, his hot breath at her lips; the feeling of his body against hers; how Ichigo's hips would fit so easily between her welcoming thighs….
Slowly, with trembling hands, she began to get undressed.
'What am I doing?! This is wrong! What if someone were to find me - brother, or Isshin-san…'
But she knew those were just excuses. No one knew she was here and she couldn't find Isshin's reiatsu in the area, no matter how hard she scanned. Her outer robe slid to the floor. She could feel Ichigo's bedsheets against her bare skin, and knew that the smell of him would get all over her clothes. Maybe it would even be noticeable... The idea gave her an odd thrill, almost as if she were glad at how perverse she could be.
'So I've already fallen this far..' she thought with resignation and sadness. 'Oh well. Not like I can fall much farther.'
Her hand slid into the upper portion of her cotton underrobe and rested on her shoulder. Carefully, with much hesitation, she reached over and grabbed hold of her own breast. A sudden wave of embarrassment came over. She couldn't believe she was really going to do this!
Well, not 'she' per se. Almost involuntarily, Rukia's imagination took over. What if it wasn't her own hand, but his?
Rukia could almost see them; big, with long fingers and prominent knuckles. She'd only touched Ichigo's hands a few times, but they were always warm.
She imagined them now, Ichigo's hands cupping her small tits. They would fit comfortably into his palm, her dark nipples peaking through his fingers. But what if….he closed them a bit, pinching her already hardening tips between them? What if his hands slid against her until he had them in the tips of his fingers?
She let go, and shuddered at the sensation of her sensitized nipples reverberating against her own chest. Suddenly she became aware of what she was on the verge of doing. Her breathing had gone shallow, and a distinct feeling of warmth was building between her legs. It only took a moment's hesitation - "Ichigo" was trailed down her stomach, around her thighs, and finally burrowed to the slick entrance to her vagina.
Rukia pushed back her misgivings and tried to focus on her imaginings. What it would feel like to have his sword-calloused fingers brush against her softest areas; how his hand would become saturated with her fluids, smearing them all over her inner thigh. Circling her swollen clit, she relished how the shocks of pleasure went through her body and blew away her inhibitions. His rough tips would feel so good tapping and massaging the sensitive bud, making her slit gush even more.
Then "Ichigo" slowly probed at her entrance, almost hesitatingly, until his finger slid in all the way to the knuckle in one push. Her insides roiled at the first finger and closed in on the second. Rukia could imagine Ichigo's breath at her ear, and maybe even his voice as he whispered encouragement to her corruption. She wondered if he really would slide himself out in this way - slowly until his fingertips were perched nearly on top of her clitoris, then quickly pushing past her lips and back into trembling warmth.
She tried to imagine his chest, toned and battle-hardened, wrapped around her backside. His breath heaving into her own as his hands eagerly explored her unseen depths as far as her body could allow. A wet, rhythmic slapping sound soon reached her ears.
"I-ichigo," she moaned. Her knees began to part as fingertips brushed and prodded along her inner walls at a now rapid pace. "This is…"
She could feel a small trickle curving around her legs and making its way down to the sheets, though whether it was sweat or something else she couldn't say. Nor did Rukia have time to care - she was cumming. Her legs started to shudder and her breath came in gasps. "Ichigo" was starting to push her to the edge. An urge to start moaning out loud came up - she bit her lip to stifle it. The sound of her playing with her soaked pussy filled the otherwise silent room.
The first spasm made her back snap into an arch. The second broke her composure. Rukia lost all sense of herself right there on Ichigo's bed. Her free hand gripped the blankets beneath as if she were afraid of floating away. Her fear of making too much noise lay in shambles as positively tramp-like series of exclamations escaped her wet lips.
Her entire body tingled, spasmed, and jerked, but none so much as her pussy, which overflowed all over her hand and the sheets. Finally her orgasm tapered off, leaving her sweaty and gasping.
"Ichigo…" she breathed.
"Yeah," he responded.
Rukia's eyes snapped open. Her heart plunged down to the pit of her stomach. It was in times like these that she envied humans having someone to pray to, because she really wanted to pray that this really wasn't happening. But it was - there in the doorway stood the real Ichigo, trademark scowl and all.
"Shit! Ichigo, I-!" Rukia stammered. But what could she say? She was spread eagle on his bed, sweat-beaded breasts and dripping wet pussy exposed to the open air like she didn't have a shred of shame. Her face burned molten hot as she hastily tried to cover herself with her sullied under robe. There was no way to defend herself; she hung her head and waited for the inevitable to begin.
Instead Ichigo threw down his backpack and began taking off his shirt.
"I-Ichigo?! What are you.." And then she remembered - Ichigo couldn't see her anymore. Without his powers, he was just another human completely blind to her existence. Her heart squeezed. Suddenly she really wished she had been caught. In a way, supreme humilation was preferable to being completely ignored.
He walked over to the bed, still stripping off his uniform. He was close enough to touch. Slowly, Rukia reached out and gently grabbed the fabric of his pants - he didn't even look over.
Quietly, she stood up shedding the rest of her robes. She gently touched his back, still sticky from the summer heat. She leaned into his musky scent, felt the muscles sliding just under the skin. With nothing between them, she could feel every inch of him pressed against her bare skin. He could feel nothing.
Suddenly he stepped away, obliviously making his way to the bathroom. Rukia remained in place, almost in a daze. When she felt the first prickling of tears, she knew it was time for her to go. She hurriedly threw on her underrobe and hakama before the rest of the Kurosakis came home, dully making a mental note to have them cleaned in secret.
Rukia took one last moment to make sure she didn't look suspiciously disheveled, and bounded out of the open window without a second glance. She swallowed the knot in her throat as she rushed back to Urahara's and hoped he either wouldn't notice or would have the tact to not say anything.
As always, she turned to her pride to comfort her. She would get over these feelings eventually, she told herself. She'd have to.