Disclaimer: Hollow-Ichi was not harmed during the writing of this fic. Oh, and Kubo Tite still owns Bleach.

Written for quietcorvin over at lj. This is not my usual style of writing, so it's total crack for me. Cross-posted for fun.

Warning for S&M satire. Real devotees, please don't flame me. :)

Safe Word: in the practice of sado-masochism, it's a word previously agreed upon by participants to designate that the masochist can no longer tolerate the situation being controlled by the sadist. It's usually something… weird. – Stock knowledge courtesy of the Lady Heather episodes of CSI. Who says a girl can't learn anything from television? XD

Second Honeymoon

by Laurie Bunter

After seventy-five years of marriage, things do get monotonous. Perhaps it was living in Soul Society that had finally cracked them. But this scenario for jump-starting their sex life was taking things a little too far. Rukia knew she had agreed to this; they had talked about it like sensible, consenting adults before he lured her there to Urahara's secret training ground and began his transformation.

But Rukia was having second thoughts. She wasn't about to make love to that… thing.

"Stop it! Ichigo! Stop!" Rukia hollered at the top of her voice, terrified. Her alto merely echoed over the rocks.

Her angered protests weren't going to stop him. He was advancing on her steadily. Reaching the ground, the tail that emerged from his lower torso swatted at boulders like they were mere pebbles in his path. The jagged markings all over his body hardly disguised his overbearing presence in this barren land. The mask did not camouflage the being's lecherous intent. Hollow-drool was dripping all over his chest.

His heavy reiatsu practically ripped up all the dead trees from their roots. What's it going to do to her?

"You said you wanted to play, little Shinigami," the Hollow growled. "You're not playing fair."

The acrid stench emitting from what she normally recognized as her husband turned her stomach. She started to dry heave, but thought the better of it. I need to control my nerves, Rukia thought. Get away from here until he gets the idea I'm no longer going to play this game. Hide behind Nii-sama's hakama in his part of the mansion, maybe, no matter how peeved they'd both be at my stupidity.

She crouched lower in her hiding place, making the mistake of kicking up a puff of dust.

Rukia would do anything to get out of this.

"Caught you!" A flash of predatory teeth appeared before her eyes.

She wiggled out to escape just in time, losing a whole sleeve in the process.

A couple of shunpo steps away, and she had the dumb luck to twist her ankle. Shit.

Really, Rukia hadn't panicked like this since she encountered "Kaien" in Hueco Mundo. That was a lifetime ago.

"I said no!"

"Come on, you can scream louder than that," the Hollow leered, as if she hadn't managed to elude him for the past hour. "I like it like that!"

The leathery tail twisted around her good ankle, making her fall to her knees. She's seen lethal ceros emerge from those claws now raking her the side of her face.

Rukia could feel all the tattoos glance against her back, their scaly texture tearing at her robes as if they were naturally amphibious and never been human.

The lizard-like appendages on his arms were poking her ribs. She felt her arms being forced to support her weight as she was being bent over.

"Come on, Shinigami. Scream for me!" His tongue was coarse and forked. His breath smelled like wine gone vinegary.

What she hated the most was his chest. Ichigo's chest was never cold.

She could feel the monster of a hard-on pressing against the back of her inner thigh. No iff-ing way, her mind shrieked.

At the last minute she remembered their safe word. "Isshin!" Rukia screeched. "ISSHIN!"

The Hollow stopped dead in its tracks. "Now that just totally killed the moment," the Hollow said, pissed.

He stopped pawing her and dropped her to the ground. He moved away, scowling.

She scuttled away from him.

As the black receded from his eyes, his body immediately transformed with a resounding crack.

The tail was the first to go. It fell off with a shake and a twitch.

Then the overly brawny, tattooed body shed to the ground, and Ichigo reappeared, shrunk back into his lean and muscular self. It was like watching a snake discarding its old skin.

The mask was the last to leave: it crumbled into fine dust and was tossed into the air like powder to the breeze.

The best thing about the mask cracking into a thousand pieces, Rukia mused, is the knowledge that Ichigo was still there.

The Hollow had his uses; she knew she probably owned her life to the Hollow several times over. She'd repay him for those debts in time -- but not just this way.

"You scared me, asshole," Rukia said shakily. "I thought this was supposed to be fun."

She sat up, massaging her injured ankle.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo said. "Let me deal with that." Ichigo carefully lifted his wife and cradled her in his arms, sitting on one of the boulders he had earlier kicked away with ease. He muttered a simple kidou spell under his breath.

Rukia could not help but smile; Ichigo was finally proficient with healing. God knows it was the first thing he wanted to learn when he moved here.

"He took it too far, you know," Ichigo said ruefully. "Missed opportunities, and all that. My fault. I shouldn't have suggested it. You said you were bored."

She shrugged, trying to arrange her shredded clothes to cover strategic parts of her body, in a strange show of modesty. "No lasting damage done."

Ichigo held her close. "I guess he was checking if you still preferred me over him after all these years."

Rukia blinked, as she brushed the last of remaining bits of mask from his tanned face. "Tough luck for him," she said, with mock sympathy. "After all this time, to be carrying a flame for me. He must be frustrated inside your head."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. "If it floats your boat, knowing that a Hollow has the hots for you."

"It does," Rukia admitted, "But now I know it's something best left unconsummated."

Ichigo grunted. "Now you tell me."

"Let's just go home," Rukia said sheepishly. "Maybe I can borrow one of Rangiku's French maid outfits. They might fit you."

"Whatever," he replied dully. "Wait a minute. Why do I have to wear it?!"

Rukia laughed and kissed him.

The kiss set off something in his head as the feel of her torn garments grazed his touch. It was then Ichigo knew: somewhere inside his soul, there was one very pissed off Hollow with a major case of blue balls. After seventy-five years, and to have come so close only to be left with desire unsatisfied… Ichigo almost felt bad for his Hollow. Almost.

If his Hollow had any sense, he would start relieving himself violently by now.

Ichigo unconsciously shuddered. Some things were better left unimagined.

--finis--


Author's Note:

If you want to refresh your memory on what Ichigo's full Hollow form looks like, it's in Chapter 222, pages 2, 4 and 8 of the manga. He's pretty gross. And that's canon! XD

Oh, and reviews are highly appreciated.