Following a continuous, drastically busy month, I have finally managed to finish this chapter. Please forgive any errors as there is likely to be several due to life doing what life does best – tiring everybody out. I have no idea if this chapter will be to each of your preferences or tastes, but it is how it is. So, as per, thank you to my lifesaving reviewers Akum, lightdesired, Ashezo, NieveDrop, ichiruki fan 3, hinataellis, jobananasan, Dragonball Doy, KuramaFTW, Saij Spellhart, NairaRains, and the unnamed guests.
Rukia couldn't hold out.
She didn't want to.
Ichigo had pulled her hips forwards so she arched into him, his hands sliding upwards to cup each side of her neck. With one final stolen glance into his scorching eyes, their lips met.
He was cautious, and she was slow.
Already, the light kindle of need was beginning to burn heavy and all they had done was brush their mouths together in one, simple gesture.
As she allowed the developing familiarity of his lips to move with hers, his body curved forwards to meet hers, his fingers tightening on her skin.
His powerful heart thudded rhythmically against her chest, and it seemed to set the pace for her, maintaining a steady beat to follow. Ichigo's lips expertly pushed hers apart, although they hardly strayed from vigilant. Rukia found that, not for the first time, he had caused an involuntary hum to vibrate in her throat as she pulled her fingertips down the soft fabric of the light, blue-grey t-shirt (an admittedly flattering hue against his tanned skin) making trails over the tightly defined muscles of his back.
He reacted to the noise.
She could feel the unspoken passion stir deep beneath his touch as he held her close to his chest, their kiss blazing slowly on.
After a moment of completely learning the feel of his back, Rukia slid her hand around to the front, her other pushing up into the natural spikes of his vibrantly coloured hair. Dancing her fingers over his collarbone, slipping just beneath the neck of his top, Rukia tapered her kiss away, pulling back ever so slightly.
She had to let him yearn for her just a little longer.
Perhaps she needed that sense of empowerment, or maybe she was just anxious.
He must have sensed her change, for his eyes, hooded with focus on her, lifted to settle on her face.
She must have let her guard down more than intended, for he gave a small nod of his head, and let one hand fall from her neck, moving to find hers. As he gave her palm a gentle squeeze, Rukia felt her anxiety subside. Their fingers interlocked, but did not remain still.
Ichigo was watching her as he let their clasp break away, his fingertips moving to trace across the creases of her palm, and then up along the inside her of her wrist.
Rukia had never experienced this kind of contact; it was as if he was getting all the gratification he needed just by chastely touching her. The proximity of their bodies and the softness of his fingers on her inner arm were enough to ease Rukia's mind wide open, subjecting herself to him.
His lips pressed themselves against hers once, before he broke away, still drawing measured patterns on her pale skin. He was edging her body back to a state of surety.
Her lips found his this time, her hand shifting upwards to press against the back of his neck, grazing her nails across his heated skin.
The rhythm began again, but this time it beat faster.
Rukia could feel his lips kissing hers with a sense of mild urgency, and she returned it, as his hand slid from her hip, inching down. He'd cupped the curve of her rear, and pulled her thigh upwards, hitching it around his waist and securing it in place.
The sudden breach of the physical barriers between them startled Rukia, and she gasped into his lips, her hand tightening on the back of his neck as his hips settled against hers.
It wasn't her fault.
She couldn't help but to assess just how well-equipped he was when he was pressing so firmly against her.
But, by Kami, she knew she would not be disappointed.
Their kiss had deepened, and Rukia could hear, and feel, the build-up of a needy growl begin in Ichigo's chest.
Her fingers toyed with the spikes at the nape of his neck, as he pulled her away from the wall, lowering her leg back down and letting his hand roam to scope out other areas of her anatomy at his own leisure. He lingered on some parts more than others.
"Rukia…" He breathed, raggedly, the purpose evident behind the way he uttered her name.
He needed her too.
She nodded her head, and his fingers slid to unclasp the first button of her floaty, mauve dress.
Rukia always dressed to impress, regardless of the situation. It was rare she ever moped around the house wearing dirty, creased clothes, unless she knew for a fact that she would be seeing nobody at all within that period.
A habit she'd picked up from Byakuya who was rarely seen without a smart suit.
So, even after the day she'd had, Rukia was secretly pleased she hadn't donned herself in sloppy attire.
His talented lips found hers once again, and she discovered herself being directed in another path, and right then, she didn't care if there were obstacles in her way because the thought had not even crossed her mind.
The sound of a door creaking open only mildly caught her interest, but not enough to pull her attention away from the way Ichigo had nipped at her lower lip. However, when said door fell closed, Rukia opened her eyes briefly, finding herself in different surroundings.
It had a similar colour scheme to the living room, and that was about as far as Rukia got with observing the unfamiliar background as her cloaked gaze fell onto a grey quilt cover and white feather pillows.
This was therefore a bedroom.
Ichigo's bedroom.
The colour flooded to Rukia's cheeks, and it was probably amusing to think that it had been the sighting of a bed that had caused this, rather than the way Ichigo's body was currently wrapped around hers.
Rukia stopped moving the second the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. For a wild moment of silence, she stared at Ichigo, seeing the dire need she felt reflected in his sharp ambers. His muscular arm had wound around her waist as her legs buckled, pulling him down with her so his hands reflexively landed on the bedding, either side of her thighs. Unexpectedly, she felt a giggle escape her lips as his eyes widened in brief shock. A little stunned at her amusement, Ichigo stared at her lips – and Rukia treasured the fact she could finally see exactly what he was looking at – before an appealingly lopsided smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Immediately distracted by the shape his lips had formed, Rukia ran her fingers along the puckered flesh. Watching the way his jaw relaxed beneath her touch, she noticed his large frame shudder – a powerful sight, considering his size – as he fell victim to her light caress on his lips.
Both of her hands had slid away from his face, and began to push down his chest, over his thick muscled abdomen, and paused, her fingertips tucking beneath the hem of his shirt.
He stilled briefly, before one hand covered hers, assisting her to push the material upwards – a strangely intimate gesture, as his eyes remained fixed on hers.
Her knuckles brushed over his hot torso (in terms of temperature, and otherwise…) as he straightened up to toss his shirt to the side.
She was gawking.
She knew it.
He knew it.
No secrets, here.
But the way his expanse of golden-tinged skin stretched over his impressively defined physique reminded her that this man worked for everything he had, and not just in the workplace; she'd seen him, countless times, at the gym. The fact he was committed to keeping himself in maximum shape only added to his persona – he damn well knew he looked good. It was evident by the way he held his body, but it wasn't a façade.
Ichigo's natural confidence didn't make him appear cocky, though he could be at times (and yes, at times he got away with it). It just proved to Rukia that this man knew what he wanted and achieved it.
And knew exactly when he had achieved it.
Hence why she found herself perched on the edge of his bed, staring at his topless figure.
There was something about seeing a man clad only in jeans that switched on a part of Rukia's brain. It was a part she never knew existed until she was in situations such as this… which probably wasn't as often as it could have been…
He allowed her another few seconds to continue with her gawking before he grew impatient, and leaned forwards, his hand moving to the second button of her dress. Rukia felt herself gasp as he dipped his head down, taking her lips in a deep and thorough kiss, before he raised one arm and ran it through his hair.
She was certain he hadn't intended the gesture to be as appealing as it was, and so, she bit her lip to prevent any further gawking.
He liked it when she did that, apparently.
Her eyes had fallen to his midriff, and as such, she couldn't help but notice that he had liked it a lot.
"Move backwards." He instructed, his voice gruff, and she did exactly as she was told, her heart hitting her sternum in anticipation.
Yes, Sir.
He knelt on the bed, staring at her with those desire-fixated eyes; for a man who was as sturdily built as Ichigo, it was peculiar that his touch could be lighter than a breeze in the summer.
Rukia knew, as he towered above her, the control was entirely in his hands.
…
Did she have any fucking idea how much control she had over him?
Was she aware at all of what she was doing to him? The way her eyes had been fixed on him from the moment he'd let her see his whole face had driven him close to insanity.
Here she still was. Rukia Kuchiki. Sitting on his bed and staring up at him with an innocently wide gaze, a flash of her pale white skin exposed beneath her collarbones.
She was wearing one of those button-up from the waist dresses that clung to her curves, but still kept everything a mystery.
God, did he want to uncover that mystery.
Ichigo's mind had experimented with different ideas of how Rukia would look naked and exposed, but he could never find an image that could quite match the way she felt under his hands.
He continued to unfasten her buttons, one by one, his eyes remaining on hers; admittedly, as uncomfortable as it had been at first, Ichigo felt somewhat liberated to be able to show himself completely to the petite devil before him.
His eyes, that was.
He felt like a high-school kid again discovering porn for the first time as he watched the seamless skin, exactly the same shade as the halo around the moon, reveal itself from beneath the deep purple fabric. He pushed either side of the dress down her slim arms, his eyes hungrily scanning the beauty before him.
Of course the first thing he noticed was going to be the black lace concealing – but only just – those rounded breasts he had only ever seen in his mind… Beneath that, beside her toned stomach, was an inked image of a black swallowtail butterfly, its wings peaked with scarlet.
Back up to her chest again.
And back down to the tattoo. He brushed the pad of his thumb over it, filing a memo in his mind to ask Rukia about it later…
He began just beneath her navel, pressing heated kisses in a vertical path up her stomach. The way her back arched up from the bed forced Ichigo to move with her, his arm sliding under her spine as his lips continued their trail. One of her slight hands had twisted into his hair, pulling just enough to spur him to move faster. The way her silken skin tasted, and the way it accommodated his mouth continued to quicken his pace.
One hand had hurriedly pushed the bottom of her dress to hitch around her hips, his fingers tracing up the smooth of her inner thigh, feeling her skin tighten over her muscles.
He had covered almost every inch of her exposed body with his mouth before he stretched himself over her, staring beneath half-lidded eyes at the way her cheeks had coloured.
He couldn't hide the smirk as he settled his hips between her thighs, and it only widened as she narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance at getting caught out.
Oops. His bad.
"Rukia…" He breathed, his smirk fading as one leg locked around his hips.
He could see she was hardly thinking straight, her eyes compelling him to take the next step.
At least, he figured that's what the wild glint in her gaze represented.
He unfastened the button over his fly, and unzipped, allowing her a moment to feel him.
Her hand tightened in his hair. Again.
Hooking a finger beneath the elastic of the black lace separating her from him, he slid it gently down her legs, deliberating purposefully. Wickedly.
He couldn't help it.
He pressed a soft, experimental kiss to her lips, and upon feeling her return it, he positioned himself between her thighs.
"Ichigo…" She breathed, suddenly, "Wait."
Her words were sudden, and sharp, and Ichigo knew to stop immediately (despite each cell in his body screaming in violent protest).
He awaited her explanation, leaning his weight on his forearms, "What's wrong?" He murmured, breathlessly.
"Just…" She bit her lip, her mask falling back over her features as she chose to say something completely different than what she had originally planned, "Be gentle at first, please."
"Rukia…" He spoke, leaning down to press a light, meaningful kiss against her lips, "Are you sure you want this?" He held her gaze, pretty sure he could figure out why she had suddenly tensed beneath him; he wasn't an idiot, "It's okay if you don't."
He'd seen the bruises countless times to know that this was probably a big step for Rukia. He knew she was strong. But he wasn't going to try and treat her as if she didn't have some kind of past history with getting hurt.
He'd have to be some Class-A dick to look beyond the fact she had experienced trauma, and expect her to get over it just to satisfy his needs…
At the same time, he could feel her determination. She probably wanted to forget all the other shit she'd experienced, and replace it with something she actually wanted.
She nodded, slowly, her eyes slipping closed to block him out.
"Rukia, look at me." He instructed quietly, and reluctantly, she opened her eyes, "We can stop." He murmured, "Manipulating you to do something is the last thing I want to do."
She grazed her nails lightly against the back of his neck, "No." She responded, her tone firm – but quiet, "I want this, Ichigo."
"Do you?"
She paused, her gaze absorbing every inch of him, "Ichigo Kurosaki…" His name rolled easily from her tongue, "This was my idea. I want this. I want to do this. With you."
He nodded, heat slapping his skin at her words. And the way she spoke them.
"If you want me to stop, just say and I'll stop. I promise." He pressed one final kiss to her lips before he pushed into her, carefully.
A breath escaped her lips as her eyes slammed shut; and Ichigo could feel that her body was more than ready for him, but he moved slowly at first, resisting the urge to lose all control.
Picturing himself in this situation with this particular goddess was something he figured would only occur in his fantasies, but like with everything else she did, it far surpassed anything he could ever imagine.
Both of her hands were balled into fists – one in his hair, and the other in his bedsheets. He could hear her soft sounds of pleasure (or, at least, he hoped they were sounds of pleasure) as he moved into her, her head falling back against the pillows.
Rukia was moving with him, her hips adapting to his flawlessly.
It took every effort to let the pace build slowly, and sure enough, he watched as the mask ebbed away from her delicate features once again.
…
This had to be the first time a man had ever said words to her before sex that she actually believed.
She should have been scolding herself at falling captive to his promise, but her body had other ideas. It was uncomfortable at first – considering the fact that he may have been packing a little more size than she'd anticipated. But once the cadence of their movements carried their bodies, the discomfort was soon overtaken by an indescribable indulgence, and she wanted more.
She needed more.
She was going to get more.
Time had faded away, and Rukia couldn't have even taken the wildest of estimates to know whether it was morning, afternoon, or next year.
It was only as she sensed her lower abdomen begin to tighten, and her breath become noticeably more ragged that she knew there was no way she could hold out much longer.
In truth, it was an unexpected sensation – a rare one at that.
Ichigo took it all in his stride, seeming to know exactly what state she was in and furthermore exactly what she needed him to do.
Slowly, she was pushed along into a white-hot state of driven carnality. Her nails scraped at the skin of his back, feral growls leaving his lips as he stepped into the zone with her, sharing in her overwhelming climb to a visible peak.
She collapsed backwards, her head disconnecting from the rest of her body. It was as if she watching herself shake violently beneath his body, from an outer perspective.
His name might have slipped from her lips once or twice – and she knew that she'd certainly heard her own name relayed back to her a number of times by his voice.
Her body was both melting, and erupting at the same time, and there was nothing she could do but let it take control.
Ichigo gasped into her shoulder, his muscles quivering under her touch as he too fell forwards, covering her entire body with his.
After a mutual moment of regaining one's sense of self back, Ichigo raised his head upwards and looked down at her, his chest still heaving.
The heat rolled off him as he locked gazes with her; she had never seen an expression quite like it.
It was as if his physical desires had been (more than) satisfied, but the rest of him was still focused on her; waiting, wanting.
Rukia was at a complete loss at what else she could give him.
Usually, once the guy got what he wanted, he was more than happy to roll over and go to sleep, leaving Rukia to decide if she wanted to lay awake for hours, listening to him snore, or slip away, unnoticed.
Ichigo didn't give her that choice.
His heart pounded loudly in his chest as he steadied his breathing, "Before you suddenly remember you hate me… Jesus Christ. You… I've never felt exactly like that in my entire life. Hell, you really are a goddess." He said the words with such intent and sincerity, that Rukia knew he would've been offended if she'd have brushed it off.
She just bit her lip, lightly.
His hold on her tightened, "Don't tell me… this is where you say you need to go." The way he had pulled her protectively against him suggested that wasn't a hint for her to leave.
"I said I didn't want to be alone tonight, Ichigo." She replied, softly, "Unless you would prefer me to leave?" But even as she said the words, a wave of uncertainty gushed over her body; maybe he was using reverse psychology to make her feel uncomfortable and –
"Not a chance." He told her, shrugging his broad shoulders effortlessly. He dropped down onto his back, resting his powerful arms behind his head, his body still tilted towards hers, dragging his gaze up and down her body in appreciation, "How often would a man be as lucky as to find Miss Rukia Kuchiki standing outside their door?"
She fought the irritating-as-hell heat away from her cheeks and exhaled quietly, reaching over to find her bra which Ichigo had expertly disposed of at some point. He made a noise of protest, and Rukia quirked an eyebrow, "Ichigo." She muttered, disapprovingly, slipping it back on over her shoulders.
Suddenly, something slid over his eyes as it seemed he recalled a vital thought, "You have a tattoo." He stated.
Rukia inclined her head, "You appear somewhat surprised."
He shrugged one shoulder, easily, "I just… I don't know. I never expected it, that's all."
"Yes, well, I got it a long time ago." She responded, softly.
He let his hand trace down her front, lightly, until his fingers landed on her ribs, "What does it mean?" He asked, running his fingertips over the ink, as though the tattoo of the butterfly mid-flight was nothing less than a sacred shrine.
"It's just a butterfly, Ichigo. What makes you think it means anything?" She returned, arching an eyebrow, her eyes sliding down to watch his hand, briefly.
"Because you are Rukia Kuchiki." He said, simply, his large hand fitting comfortably around the left set of her ribs, his thumb still resting atop the tattoo.
"Meaning?" She said, a flicker of irritability passing across her face as she watched him, steadily.
He rolled his eyes. Two liquid ambers.
"Meaning that you don't do a thing without some huge motive behind it. You're far too calculated to do something impulsively."
That was where he was a little wrong, "Actually… there is a highly impulsive part of my personality. I just try to learn how to control it nowadays." She used her typical guarded tone as she always did when discussing herself.
He dipped his head down, his lips phantom as they ghosted across her cheek, so lightly she could barely feel him, "You got that tattoo for a reason. Stop trying to change the subject, Miss Kuchiki."
"For goodness sake. When I was younger, somebody I knew called me 'little butterfly' and it's just a reminder of that. It also symbolises rebirthing, or the beginning of a new life." She said quietly, pulling her eyes away from his, feeling his sharp intent easing open her soul.
He said nothing.
Rukia exhaled, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable with the silence – which usually wasn't something that bothered her. It was only when she could visibly see him searching into her soul that she realised Ichigo only spoke when he deemed it a necessity, and that he didn't keep quiet because he was purposefully ignoring her or piss her off – which he did frequently.
He felt he was onto something, she was certain of it.
Finally, it appeared he relented his search as his lips fell apart to form his next sentence, "When did you begin a new life?"
A small breath left her mouth as she raised her head up slightly to prop herself more comfortably against the pillows to look at him, "Constantly. I'm always moving around." It was a relatively closed response, and she rather hoped he wouldn't see beyond it.
He waited.
She decided to remain mute, taking a branch from his tree. A more Ichigo-friendly metaphor for taking a leaf from his book…
"And?" He pushed, bluntly.
"And nothing. Moving around is exhausting – you're forever putting on a new façade, meeting new people…" She shrugged, tilting her head to one side, expecting him to drop it and move on.
Okay, she was hoping he would drop it and move on.
He didn't.
Obviously.
"Rukia, you didn't get a butterfly because you've moved around a lot." He stated, "I've read fragments of your soul. I've memorised fragments of your soul. Remember the piece of writing I recited to you? Tell me that doesn't have something to do with the butterfly. Tell me that doesn't have something to do with being reborn."
She could feel the chill ebb back over her features, and although it wasn't intentional, she was building up those walls again. No matter how difficult it was.
Especially when naked.
This time, she could see quite plainly exactly what Ichigo was looking at now his eyes were exposed.
She rather felt like concealing them back up once again with his fringe…
"I don't want to talk right now, Ichigo." Rukia spoke, her voice softer than new linen.
Ichigo rolled away from her so he could zip up the front of his jeans, "That's starting to get old, Yuki-Onna. You promised."
Rukia raised her eyebrows, "Excuse me?"
"I said, you promised." He repeated, as Rukia began to pull her clothes back over her bare skin.
"You called me… Yuki-Onna." She murmured, slowly, watching him through imploring eyes.
He shrugged, "The Goddess of the cold… The Lady of the snow…" He seemed to speak more to himself than to Rukia, playing with the term in his head – she could see him pondering his own words by the distracted expression in his eyes.
"I feel like that is supposed to be offensive."
Ichigo glanced about for his shirt, but Rukia may have accidentally pushed it onto the floor… beneath the bed… Utterly out of sight.
Unintentionally, of course…
After a moment, he gave up and threw himself down beside Rukia, crossing his arms back over his bare chest – much to Rukia's (secret) triumph, "You're a goddess, no doubt. But you're a cold one at that." He muttered, "I just don't get you."
"I'm not asking you to."
He glanced over at her, annoyance passing over his features, "Stop being so… irritating! You were the one who came here almost in tears. You sought me out. To me, that suggests that you do want me to get you. You promised me you would let me in."
"I was faced with a difficult choice." Rukia said, her voice lowering considerably, "Something inside me chose life. There. Happy?"
Ichigo drew his lower lip between his teeth, exhaling as he edged closer to her, "What determined your choice?"
Shaking her head, Rukia shrugged, "Fate, maybe."
Ichigo reached around to curl his hand around her hip, pulling her body to curve naturally into his, and Rukia could feel her body heating up as she was pressed against the warmth of his golden-tan skin.
"It's like…" She began, strangely feeling at ease now he was wrapping his arms securely around her waist, "… you're standing on a precipice. You either choose defeat, or you choose to keep fighting for a little longer."
Ichigo nodded, absorbing her every word, his expression focused.
"The weight I still carry is that I still don't know if victory is even real… There is one unchangeable certainty in life, and that is death. Once you achieve or acquire something of value, it is your duty to work to keep it. That's why you must either keep fighting, or give it up." Rukia could hear somebody speaking the words she had formulated in her mind, but the voice sounded distant.
She was elsewhere. Trapped in the corners of dark memories.
"Even now… I still don't know if I made the right decision."
Rukia couldn't even hear Ichigo's silence over the inexorable throbbing of her thoughts against her temple.
It was only when a warm hand eased her raven locks back behind her ear that she was pulled back through the vortex and into reality once again. His voice was deep. Gravelly.
"It's not an easy choice to make. Either way you are hurting somebody."
She blinked and glanced across at his face, "I…" She began, trailing away.
"Unless, of course, you felt there was nobody left in your life to hurt?"
His words landed like a sharp slap against cold, damp skin.
Nobody had ever picked her apart that easily.
He must have detected her mild expression of surprise, for he pressed his warm lips against her angled cheekbone, "Don't be afraid of me."
"It's just… I've never…" Her hands had tightened, without even being consciously aware of it until the sting of her nails piercing her palms caught her attention, "I've never told anybody before."
"That doesn't surprise me, because–"
"–Let me guess… Because I'm Rukia Kuchiki." She finished, a little dryly.
He must have picked up on the rigidity of her bone structure, as he draped a relaxed arm around her shoulders, reminding her just how easy he was to be around (when he wasn't too busy being an ass), "You keep everything to yourself. Not just from me. Every little emotion you possess is locked away in a series of steel boxes, some of which have complex locks, and some that don't. Those ones need melting… it would be impossible to try and break them. You wouldn't let that happen. You do not break."
"Kami, I haven't had a soul handle my weaknesses so expertly before." She muttered, her body stiff but unmoving from his.
"Weaknesses?" His chest rumbled against her as he spoke.
"Emotions are a weakness. Surely you agree to some extent. I know I'm going to hate myself for telling you all of this." She prevented the automatic sound of frustration from escaping her throat as her eyes closed, tentatively, "What am I doing? God, it would have been so much easier just to sleep with you and leave. I think that's an easier regret to deal with than this." She chastised herself, half-ignoring Ichigo.
"We can do that if you want..." He suggested, innocently, "I could deal with round two."
Well, if there was one sentence in the entire world that could have made her laugh… it wasn't that one.
Her pale face darkened considerably, as she grabbed the feather pillow beside her and shoved it into his face, forcefully, "God, you're an asshole." She pushed back the covers, arranging her blouse, and moving to her feet.
"Don't leave, Yuki-Onna." He murmured, already smoothly pushing his body upright, walking around the bed to stand in front of the door.
Rukia glowered at him, "Move, Ichigo." She was standing close to him, unafraid of pressing her fingertips against his (delightful) stomach, "I have no reason to still be here."
"You have no reason to go. Neither of us want to be alone tonight." He covered her hand with his, pressing her palm flat against his muscles.
She did not soften her glare, and if anything, her jaw tightened, "Why don't you want to be alone tonight?" She asked, her tone clearly stating that it was his turn to be picked apart.
He just watched her, steadily.
It was evident he was in no mood to play her games, but she was certain to make it equally as evident that she had no games to play.
"Because you are the closest I've come to not feeling so shitty all the time. Call it, I dunno, happiness." He answered honestly.
"You believe in happiness?" She didn't scorn, but her tone implied a strong hint of disbelief.
He shrugged, "I didn't."
She was silent for a moment, watching him carefully, before he exhaled.
"You're scared. That's why you're trying to leave. You are scared I will discover just how fragile your heart can be. That's why you're running – why you keep on running."
Rukia regarded him, briefly, before she allowed a relatively frank expression to cross her features, "Let me put this bluntly, Ichigo. Remember this. My heart is breakable only when open. If my fragile heart is damaged while it's open, it will close up and seal itself away for good. That is a promise." She refused to let an ounce of sentiment, or vulnerability, leek into her tone or face, "You will forgive me if I am sceptical as to who, or what, I can trust my heart with. Especially you."
"You've been hurt badly before." He commented, "Everybody gets hurt, but not everybody carries the same level of pain that I've seen you hold. You seem to hoist it weightlessly, ignoring just how detrimental it is to you. But it will catch up with you. And it seems I'm making progress. At least you've admitted to having a heart." He offered her a small smile, which she did not even consider returning.
He sighed, "Listen, I need to know something."
She raised her eyebrows, curtly.
"The bruises…" He began, and Rukia stiffened, visibly – if it was possible for her structure to become more rigid than it already was, "…The person who caused them… Are they still in your life?"
"If they were?" She asked.
He shrugged, seeming to force his face to become as expressionless as hers.
"You want to know if I am still liable to lose my value, and become more apparent damaged goods than I already am." She stated, stonily fixing her eyes on his. He had the grace to appear somewhat surprised.
"No, dammit." He growled, deeply. Taking a step forwards and sliding his large hands to her hips, he continued, "Rukia, I want to know if the person who caused you this pain is still skulking around, waiting to inflict more."
This time, he had hit a brick wall.
This was where all of her responses and emotions shut down, casting multiple indestructible shields over her entire body.
She said not a word.
"Rukia, please. What can I give you that will contribute to establishing some form of trust between us? What will it take for you to realise that I don't want to hurt you?"
"I am not afraid of being hurt."
"So, what are you afraid of?" He responded, quickly.
But it seemed that was all he was getting.
"You know what, if you want to go, I won't stop you. If you really think I'm just your regular asshole who only wants to get between your legs, feel free to leave. I thought you were more perceptive than that. But all I'm asking you is to look deep inside yourself, and challenge your mind and soul with the question… Do you want to leave because you truly abhor me and I am just a distraction, or do you feel you have to leave because you don't know where else to go from here with me, and it makes you want to run?" His amber eyes bore hard into hers, almost breaking the protective façade she wore.
In fact.
He did.
He pierced clean through it, evoking the reaction she knew he wanted.
Rukia inhaled, sharply, glancing away to hide the fear in her eyes.
"As I thought." He remarked, "But let me tell you… I'm not expecting anything else of you. I'm not asking for your undivided attention, your commitment, or your loyalty. I'm just asking for a chance to be let into your life. You impacted my life before you even walked into it. I'm giving you the choice to walk away if that's what you want. But something's telling me that isn't what you want."
"God." She breathed, running a hand through her hair, a thousand wars raging in her mind.
Ichigo watched her, steadily, "Rukia…" He whispered, reaching forwards and slipping a hand into hers, "Come to bed."
The way he pleaded so gently was all it took before she mutely moved forwards a step, her eyes sliding to meet his.
He held her gaze, imploring her to continue her path towards him, and she complied – slowly, and uncertainly.
The feel of the mattress beneath her swallowed her weight, dragging her down beside Ichigo. He pulled her against his side, sliding one hand to rest on her waist, and remaining silent.
It was alien.
Unfamiliar and overwhelming.
Yet, it was the closest to comfort she had experienced in a long time.
…
Ichigo had wanted so desperately to stay awake and pick apart further remnants of her soul, but the adrenaline had subsided. The blazing heat that had caught fire from their intimacy, and their conflict, drained. It left the residue of exhaustion and uncertainty.
"Rukia…" He breathed, following a timeless stretch of silence.
"Mm?" She murmured, the soft husk of her voice indicating she was as worn as he felt.
He observed her frame – deceivingly fragile – beneath the blanket. He reached around, cupping her neck and turning her so her spine was pressed into the mattress.
Her eyes were guarded as she watched him tilt his head towards hers. He brought her lips to his in a long, thorough kiss. The warmth of his skin, his flesh, on hers heated through to her cheeks – he could feel it under his thumb. He pulled away after a delicious moment and dropped back down beside her, "Get here."
She was soundly against his chest before she realised he had even touched her.
He was soundly asleep before he even realised his eyes were closed.
…
"Ichigo! Dammit, open up!"
The thunderous sound of steel hammers beating against the door pulled Rukia upright in bed.
She had always been a light sleeper, anyway. But surely, that would've woken up a bear from hibernation.
Ichigo, however… well, he appeared to be of a different breed altogether.
Momentarily distracted by the rare peace she caught on his face as he continued to sleep, Rukia was unaware of the smallest of smiles pulling at her lips – until it vanished the second another yell perforated the walls.
"That's it. I will end this door in five… four…"
Rukia dragged her eyes back over to Ichigo's relaxed form, and slapped the bare, golden skin of his shoulder, "Ichigo. I think there's someone at the door."
At the sound of Rukia's voice, Ichigo's eyes slid open, revealing two hazy amber eyes, "…mm-kia?" He mumbled.
Rukia just looked at him.
"…Two… One! That's it! Here comes the hammer-fist!"
His eyes closed once more. Briefly.
"Oh, for god's sake." He growled, pushing back the covers, "Alright! Alright!" He yelled, stumbling out of the bed, reaching blindly for a pair of jogging bottoms.
Rukia continued to look at him.
To look at every part of him.
More than once.
He ran a hand lazily through his hair and straightened up, listening to the ripple of cracks in his spine, "Take a picture, Rukia. It'll last longer." He sent Rukia a surprisingly wicked grin before he moved towards the door – not quite making the target before a pillow was launched directly at his head.
That man.
…
"So, would you care to tell me exactly why you thought it appropriate to bang on my door at this time on a Sunday morning?" Ichigo demanded, as soon as he had revealed the pest responsible for the racket from behind the wood (which was surprisingly still all in one piece).
"The answer is simple." Came the response, "We're hungry. Therefore you will be making pancakes while I get better acquainted with your 75 inch TV."
Ichigo let loose a short laugh as he felt his legs receive a brutal attack from one Atsuko who had launched herself into the room, "I think you're better acquainted with my TV than I am!" He exclaimed, picking up his niece, as the most recent addition to his house just sent him a smirk, identical to his own.
"Anyway!" Ichigo continued, "Why isn't Yuzu making you pancakes? She's back now, you know."
"She is. We're stopping at Grandaddy's for seconds." Atsuko grinned, her arms draping over Ichigo's shoulders as she looked at him.
Ichigo just laughed aloud, "Oh, is that right?" He turned to the presence now parked in his favourite seat on the sofa, "Don't suppose that was your idea by any chance was it, Karin?"
"Now, why would you think that, dearest brother of mine?" She responded, pulling her legs up onto the cushion, "Unless you'd rather I texted her and you can have one extra to cook for if she comes?"
Ichigo rolled his eyes, "Do I have a choice either way?"
Of course, his sister was suddenly unresponsive due to whatever crap she was watching.
"Anyway, there's something I just have to do. Give me two seconds." He placed Atsuko down and turned back towards his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.
He certainly was not going to complain about the sight that befell his eyes upon entry.
Rukia glanced up at him suddenly, standing only in her underwear, her dress clutched in one hand.
Whatever Ichigo was going to say passed him by as he let his eyes slide up and down her pale, slim frame.
"Take a picture, Ichigo." She mimicked, "It'll last longer."
Ichigo just took a step towards her, "You'd let me?"
She tilted her head to one side, "No."
"Shame." He smirked, reaching forwards to curl his hands about her hips, pulling her against his front, "This underwear would match my phone case." He murmured into her ear, tugging at the black lace, listening to it slap against her hip as he released it.
Her skin flat against his reminded him of the previous night, and he dipped his lips down to hers, suddenly conscious of the hunger to feel a part of her again.
She returned the depth of his kiss, before pulling away, her hands on his chest, "Ichigo, I need to go."
He looked at her, quiet longing behind the not-so-quiet desire in his eyes, "Stay for pancakes."
She moved her lower lip to rest between her teeth for a moment, "But you have company."
"Well, you've already met Atsuko. That's the majority of the battle… Karin isn't really classed as 'company'. She just becomes a part of the furniture. You won't be able to tell her apart from my cushions." Ichigo allowed himself a fond smile – an expression Rukia had probably rarely seen him wear before, "If you're worried what she will think or that you're making some huge step… Don't. Trust me. This can mean nothing if you want it to. No obligations. Okay?"
"I ought to get back to Byakuya…" She murmured, although Ichigo intended to make it a challenging concept for her to concentrate on as he brushed his lips along the top of her shoulder, and towards her neck.
"I think your brother would prefer you to visit him on a full stomach, don't you? Come on. I don't just make pancakes for anyone…"
Judging by the increase of her heartrate against his body, he was almost certain he'd won her over, "Is that a yes?"
"Just one pancake." Rukia submitted, gently untangling herself from his hold and straightening up.
Ichigo allowed himself a highly amused laugh, "Please. It isn't humanly possible to have just one of my pancakes."
Sending him the smallest of unimpressed – yet mildly amused – smiles, Rukia stepped into her dress, slipping it over her frame easily.
He couldn't resist thieving one final kiss from her lips before he opened the door.
…
Rukia wasn't nervous about meeting new people. It was something she was used to doing by now.
But she couldn't help but notice the displacement of comfort as she stepped into the living room.
Perhaps it was the bordering anxiety of how Ichigo's sister might react to the situation of meeting a girl he had quite clearly been entertaining throughout the night.
Perhaps it was the anticipation of seeing what she was like.
She could not have been more different than Yuzu.
The only thing that seemed similar about the two was their age.
Of course, Karin shared similar features to the other Kurosakis – a smooth nose, angular cheekbones, and height.
Her coal hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, numerous bangs straying from the band and falling around her face.
On the exposed skin of Karin's arms, Rukia could see a decoration of detailed, colourful ink. Karin shifted her head to glance over, releasing her lower lip from her teeth, displaying a small piercing, "Ichigo, what's this?" Her voice was a little rough, and it was exactly the kind of tone that suited her appearance – without being judgemental, of course.
However, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable, Rukia straightened up, waiting for Karin to shoot her back down again.
"You actually have friends?" She appeared utterly mortified, "Dad will be so thrilled! Have you told him you're not a complete loser after all?"
Ichigo just folded his arms, his eyes fixing on his sister's, "Atsuko, tell Mummy she needs to behave in my household, please."
Said child giggled and latched herself onto her Uncle's lower leg, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him, "You behave, Ichi."
"Well, how rude." Ichigo shook his leg in attempt to dislodge the most recent attachment to his limb, "Don't you want pancakes?"
Karin turned to Rukia as the other two bickered, "I'm Karin, by the way. Ichigo's favourite sister."
Rukia inclined her head forwards, "I'm Rukia… Ichigo's least favourite acquaintance."
This introduction seemed to amuse Ichigo's sister, and she sent Rukia a chillingly pleasant smile before turning back to the television.
"Karin's not my favourite sister. But she is certainly the runner up." Ichigo laughed, expertly dodging a cushion sailing through the air towards his head.
"Ichigo, I don't get it." Karin said, after a moment.
Ichigo was busy dangling his niece upside down, his hands holding onto her ankles, "Don't get what?" He asked over Atsuko's giggles.
"Why you're not in the kitchen yet." She replied, innocently.
Ichigo gently laid Atsuko down on the floor and crouched down to his knees, "On the count of three, we attack Mummy. I'll get her arms, and you get her legs. One… two… three!"
The two leapt upwards and resumed with their cunning plan, but not before Karin had reached around to lock her brother in a worryingly brutal headlock.
Still watching the screen over his head, Karin tilted her neck to one side, listening to the bones crack, "Are you sure this is a fight you want to pick, bro?"
Ichigo let loose a strained laugh and thumped Karin in the thigh, quickly escaping her hold, "Atsuko, attack!"
"Also, do you not know how to tidy? What're all of these boxes?" Karin asked, standing up and immobilising her child by picking her upside down.
"They're to pack away each part of your body I chop off." Ichigo shrugged, easily.
"There are children present, rude." Karin placed down her offspring and dropped down onto the sofa once more, "Now, come on. Pancakes." She clapped her hands together as Atsuko turned her attention back to her uncle.
"Sometimes I think you forget who's oldest." Ichigo muttered, picking up a cushion and batting Karin in the face with it, and deciding to then retreat into the kitchen, closely followed by Atsuko.
Rukia stood for a moment, not entirely certain of how to proceed from this point.
"You can sit down you know." Karin indicated to the space at the end of the sofa, to which Rukia obediently took. She waited in anticipation for Karin to begin questioning, analysing, or surveying Rukia's reasoning behind being present at Ichigo's on a Sunday morning.
But Karin surprised Rukia once again by commenting, "You know, even cooking programmes are bearable to watch when they're in HD."
"You don't like cooking programmes?" Rukia offered Karin a small smile.
"They make me hungry." She sighed, "I'd rather watch those Ninja programmes or Total Wipeout or something."
Cheerful.
"I must admit, I don't watch enough TV to know what they are." Rukia responded, trying not to sound too sheepish.
Karin shifted her attention instantly onto Rukia, appearing absolutely mortified, "Right. I'm not having that. The next time I see you, I fully expect you to have seen at least one episode of Total Wipeout. Are we clear?"
The next time…?
Inclining her head, Rukia allowed herself a light laugh, "Yes, Ma'am."
Satisfied once more, Karin moved her eyes to focus back on the images of chicken being basted.
The sweet aroma of pancakes drifted in from the kitchen accompanied by sounds of Atsuko's wild giggles, "That one nearly hit the ceiling!"
It wasn't long before Ichigo rapped his knuckles on the table, "Thought you were hungry, Karin."
"Why else do you think I'm drooling over your cushions?" She stood up, stretching her arms above her head, reminding Rukia once again how tall the Kurosakis were.
Ichigo's eyes fell on Rukia, just for a second longer than she felt comfortable, "You too."
Yes, Sir.
During breakfast, Rukia had been observing Ichigo and his interactions with both Karin and Atsuko.
It was peculiar to think a man who was in Ichigo's position of power possessed more than one dimension. Particularly a man who behaved the way he did when at work. But to see the way he so easily fell into a natural persona was somewhat refreshing. He didn't have to pretend around his family, and the fact that he allowed Rukia to witness this must have accounted for something.
Although she didn't entirely know what.
With this thought, Rukia felt any sense of comfort or belonging fall by the wayside of guilt.
Recalling Kaien and their previous conversation, Rukia knew it was only a matter of time before everything would change – whether it was due to the article Rukia threatened to publish about her past, or whether Ichigo eventually found out about her collaboration with Kaien.
Or whether she told him.
It took her longer than it would normally to recognise the sensation of Ichigo's burning gaze against her skin, but she was slowly pulled from her reverie with a helpful nudge of his foot against hers.
"I ought to go." Rukia picked up her plate, barely reacting to his gesture as she stood up, "I ought to check up on my brother." Without waiting for his response, she had already withdrawn into the kitchen. She held the plate lightly underneath the hot running water and bit her lip.
She couldn't go on lying to people any longer.
Especially not now she had felt.
She would be a fool to pretend otherwise.
She had felt; it was true. She had never felt that way with another man in her life. No man had made her feel that way. But if he found out, surely the elation they had both experienced would invert and quite possibly destroy everything they had started to build.
It was only when she felt his hand slide to her hip from behind that she became aware of his presence.
Pausing, Rukia felt the consuming guilt open its jaws even wider; she didn't deserve to feel comforted by his touch.
Turning her head to glance at him over her shoulder briefly, Rukia raised the plate and rested it on the drying rack.
"Is something wrong?" His voice was gentle.
So, she told him yet another lie, "No – I'm fine."
He regarded her steadily before nodding, "I suppose I might see you tomorrow then."
"I suppose you might." She moved to face him completely, her eyes fixed on the bridge of his nose, evading his stare.
But, even though she avoided it, she could still feel it bearing hard into her face. It was as if he was uncovering another secret with every second that passed, "Do you regret this?" Ichigo asked her, suddenly.
"No." She replied, ignoring the voices of doubt in the back of her mind, "Do you?"
"No." He murmured, his head leaning closer to hers. He allowed their lips to brush lightly, before pulling away, "Nor do I regret that."
Rukia allowed her fingertips to rest against his chest, recalling the way he felt under her touch one last time before she slid out from between the giant and his counter. He followed her to the door.
"It was good to meet you, Karin, and to see you again, Atsuko." Rukia smiled, inclining her head at Ichigo's sister, and returning Atsuko's wave, delicately.
"Can I come play with Hikaru again soon?" She asked.
"Sure, if your mother says it's okay." Rukia pulled open the door, sending Ichigo one final glance before exiting the apartment.
Refusing to further analyse the series of mistakes she had made, and continued to make, Rukia didn't stop for a second to breathe until she had been home to get changed, and arrived at her brother's bedside.
And not that she would ever admit it aloud… but despite everything, they were the nicest pancakes she'd tasted for a long time.
A/N: I had the first verse of a song I have a particular liking for stuck in my head during parts of this chapter, so for those of you who enjoy setting scenes with a bit of music, listen to Skylar Grey – I Know You. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and as always, please review. You have no idea how much I appreciate hearing from you all.
I believe, I believe there's love in you
Gridlocked on the dusty avenues
Inside your heart, just afraid to go
I am more, I am more than innocent
But just take a chance and let me in
And I'll show you ways that you don't know
Don't complicate it
Don't let the past dictate
Yeah,
I have been patient, but slowly I'm losing faith
So please, I know you baby
I know you baby
So please, I know you baby
I know you baby
xox