The hot, soothing water of the shower beat down on Ichigo's shoulders as he stood in solemnity.
Here was the only place he could think. The only place where he was by himself, away from prying eyes and voices that whispered and asked and prodded. He didn't want them to talk about her.
She wasn't going to come back.
This was the only place he could close his eyes and dream. Dream of embracing her small, slight figure; seeing the sight of her, in the flesh, next to him. Dream of gentle, soft kisses; of long, careful touches.
He felt a white-hot warmth pool in his stomach, an all-too familiar flutter that he felt whenever he saw her. He groaned as his cock became hard, aroused from imagining her naked, hands on his chest, breathing heavily. Grasping his arousal in his hand, he began to make slow, languid strokes, her face behind his eyelids.
He missed her.
He wanted her.
He needed her.
His movements increased in pace, his breath coming in short, husky gasps as he stroked up and down, up and down, faster, faster until ah! completion, and a choked "Rukia" escaping his lips.
As he rode through the wave of his orgasm, he felt almost as if she was near, as if he could sense her presence.
He could only dream.
Rukia lay on her bed, her eyes closed. Her brother was in the far side of the mansion, asleep, no doubt. It was only when he had retired for the night that she could be by heself, that she could think.
Sighing, she cursed her fate. She wasn't going back.
After all, it was only a temporary assignment to Karakura Town, an assignment that had gone on for far too long, it was decided. She should be fine, happy, even, that she was back in the Soul Society, back with those she knew and cared about.
But she wasn't happy.
She longed for those warm, strong arms that had once held her tight, rescuing her from impending doom; she wanted to see his pouting, sarcastic face that she hated yet loved so much. She wanted to feel his body against hers, his breath mingling with hers, his hands touching every part of her.
She closed her eyes and loosened her hakama, pulling it down and slipping it off of her body. Her hand moved slowly across her stomach, sending a tingling sensation throughout her body. She cupped one of her small breasts in her hand, touching a pert nipple, breathing slowly, carefully. She imagined him holding her, loving her.
She moved her hand down lower, to a small patch of black hair, parting the lips there, stroking a small bundle of nerves.
She moaned quietly, breathily.
Slowly, she inserted a finger into her wet, slick entrance, then another, pumping them in and out, relishing the sweet friction. She moved her fingers faster, rubbing her swollen nub with her thumb, her breath now coming in broken pants, her throat emitting heavy moans.
She wanted it to be him doing this to her. She wanted to be in his embrace.
The thought of him sent her fingers moving so much faster, deeper, her voice coming out in a strangled sob as her orgasm hit, her body shaking, walls contracting around her inserted fingers. "Ichigo," she cried, biting her lip in pleasured agony.
Here, in the quiet confines of her room, shaking with pleasure, she could almost feel him close, part of her.
She could only dream.