a/n: hello friends! i know that it's been a long while, but i honestly didn't think that i would ever be writing again. i sincerely lost all inspiration for writing and was prepared to be done with it, but i received some very good news a few days ago. BLEACH IS BACK. in order to prepare myself for the return of bleach, i decided to watch the show from the very beginning, and oh my goodness. so many good feelings came rushing back, reminders of how simple and good life was when i was younger. inspiration immediately struck me and i just knew that i had to write something. i actually wrote this story for another fandom; some of you might remember this from the title and the content. giving this story to that fandom was a mistake. it was a decision that i struggled with when i first published it, one that always bothered me, but watching bleach again made me want to fix this mistake. this story was meant for bleach from the very beginning. i hope you enjoy.
refuge — strange and easy sugar.
.
prequel.
.
Rukia loved to be enveloped by her husband's arms late at night. He was such a strong man, a natural-born leader with a stubborn and headstrong spirit. This man always managed to exude an air of power and dominance that touched anyone near him, even as he slept. This excited her. Even while she was teetering and tottering on the brink of sleep, it reminded her of how he had used this very same innate authority of his to push her over the edge—over and over and over again—just a few moments ago.
Sweat began to pool in the space between the flesh of his forearm and her stomach as he held her, as if the memory of their intimacy were its cue. That little bit of moisture felt about as sticky and nasty as the stiff warmth of their humid bedroom, yet the corners of her mouth lifted—because it also felt good. Knowing that this sweat, along with the thick and almost unbreathable sir that surrounded them was a direct result of their lovemaking made her stomach spin and flip with unbridled glee. It felt like comfort and familiarity—like home; a solace she thought would have been lost to her forever.
Rukia loved it, and she loved him. All of him, with all of her.
It was funny to think of how much she used to hate him.
No. That was wrong.
Hate was neither the correct word nor was it the proper term, for she had never hated him. She simply hated the idea of him, of what he and his family represented to her, though the potential for hatred was strong and virile. If she hated him first, he would have hated her right back—yet he loved her first. She had every right to hate this man, whether he knew it or not and whether it was fair or not, because both ideas had been presented to her underneath such a negative light. This light was like the dim fire of a steadily melting candle, one that only spoke of stealing her away from her forbidden love—
The arm around her waist pulled her closer to the figure that laid behind her. It hugged her fleshy body flush against the muscled and sturdy frame of her husband. A soft groan escaped his throat and slipped past his lips, a sound that made her eyes flutter as she basked in the feeling of him. He held her so snugly that she could feel every part of him pressing against her, from his chiseled torso to the currently flaccid meat of his penis, right down to the few veins that swelled over the smooth surface of his toned legs. She took pride in just how delectably strong her husband was: a work of art who had been crafted and sculpted by years of training.
God, he felt like bliss.
Rukia inhaled slowly and evenly, releasing this breath through parted lips.
A warm breeze wafted into the bedroom through the balcony. It created a pretty billow with the thin curtain that allowed her to catch a glimpse of the summer's night sky. The sight helped to ease her nerves and relax her, along with the faint sound of crickets. Her husband had not meant to do that: to excite her in such a way. He must have just felt her tension as he slept. It would not have been the first time. To know that they had become so bonded that he could feel the rise and fall of her emotions, even as he slept...
It made her smile.
Upon further introspection, the thought of almost hating him was no longer funny but strange instead. Even though she knew exactly what warranted this potential hatred, and even though she knew exactly why. This was only because she loved this man—sincerely and genuinely—and because he loved her back and first, a phenomenon in and of itself. It was abnormal, a rarity that she had quickly embraced when she sensed their mutual feelings. Many women in Rukia's position could only hope to be as lucky, and she had been blessed enough to experience this love twice.
No. These were two completely different loves.
Since that was the case, was it possible then for her to love them both? While her husband slept and the other was gone?
Was it wrong for her to love both? Because she did.
She still did.
"Ichigo?"
His name slipped past her lips like a delicate whisper, weak and barely audible.
It hurt. She ached.
Rukia's heart suddenly felt so heavy. It felt like anchor had fallen through her esophagus and into the pit of her stomach with a sharp clang. It felt like her spirits and all of her guts had been pulled down, forcing her to feel the burdensome weight of her emotions. Sleep was now lost to her. He had stolen it from her, disguised as a whisper and a fleeting memory.
The arm around her waist held her tighter. Her husband's touch did not go appreciated. It conjured up thoughts of possession, of the fact that she belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her. It reminded her that he was a big man with a body entirely made up of refined muscle, each honed tendon secreting strength and power—a warrior.
He stirred behind her, his legs untangling from hers to stretch underneath the flimsy sheet that covered them both. Another groan escaped him, a guttural one that allowed her to feel his warm breath graze the back of her neck. He placed a sweet and lingering kiss there before placing another onto her bare shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
It won't be long until I fall asleep again, his fatigued tone warned her. Speak your piece now.
His voice was thick with sleep, low and gravelly. The sound of it almost made her swoon, but she nodded instead. He was such a hard man, one who had been toughened by years of battle and military training. Yet he was still so kind and so soft and so warm for her, with her and only her. For this, she hated to worry him.
Rukia looked at the band that decorated her finger. It was the ring of his family, passed down from one ruling queen to the next. This was tradition, the same as it had been in her maiden family. But this was given to her by him—her husband. The hell that she would raise if she were not allowed to be buried with it would be monumental, at the very least.
"Don't fret. I'm fine," she assured him. It hit her then just how late it was. Her mouth was dry and her voice was rough. She touched the hand that he had positioned over her stomach, grazing his warm skin with the very tips of her fingers before lacing them securely with his. "Go back to sleep, love."
"Will you speak with me when morning comes?"
"Will you remember when morning comes?"
"I doubt it." Her husband admitted this with a low and rumbling chuckle. The sound of it made her hold his hand just a bit tighter and burrow herself deeper into the curve of his body. He nuzzled the crook of her neck and sighed. "Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you, Rukia. This is my duty, not only as your husband, but as your friend. I hope you haven't forgotten that I do count as both."
His words made her stomach turn with affection. But he sounded so worried, and she hated when he worried for her. She brought his hand up to her lips and placed three kisses onto a single knuckle. He loved it when she did that. She knew it well, and he knew that she did.
"I haven't forgotten," she assured him. "Thank you."
A gruff sound of acknowledgement was the only response she received. His arms relaxed around her, along with his breathing as he was gently eased back into slumber.
Rukia waited a beat. She allowed herself to enjoy the distinct feeling of his body and the protection it offered before unlacing their fingers. She carefully slipped out of his hold and their bed. An instant chill hit her despite how warm and muggy the room was. She already missed his touch. She reached down to pick her slip up from the floor, pulling it over her naked body before looking to her husband.
A tiny smile touched her lips at the sight of his sleeping face. He was such a handsome man, his red hair making him almost strikingly beautiful. There was a bit of stubble growing along the lining of his jaw and above his lip. She was reminded of how it prickled against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs not too long ago. He would be forced to shave soon, although she did hope that it would not be too soon. She liked to see him with the extra hair.
The longer she looked at him, the more tempted she was to crawl back into that bed. She wanted to wake him up, just to tell him to take her back into his arms and hold her close. He would fulfill this request for her, just as he always did. While they both knew that she was quite spoiled, they both also knew that it was not her doing.
"Renji," she whispered.
His full brows shifted at the sound of her voice, but he neither stirred nor awakened.
At that, Rukia slid her feet into her slippers and made her way to the door. There was just a short moment of hesitation that was alleviated when she turned her head to look at him. She watched him for a bit, seriously contemplating crawling back into his arms and waking him up. The longer she looked at him, the more she wanted to just talk and free her mind from these bothersome thoughts. He was so good to her that he would indulge this silly longing and stay up with her until the sun rose in order to discover the true root of these thoughts. She was so sure that he would do this for her because he had done so many times before; and she for him.
A smile touched her lips and she shook her head. He really had spoiled her rotten. Perhaps he was too good to her. With that final thought strengthening her resolve, she grabbed her robe, pulled it on and tied the sash around her waist. She opened the door and stepped out, quietly closing it behind herself.
"Would you like me to accompany you, Rukia-sama?"
Rukia glanced at Rikichi's chipper face before setting her gaze into the door. It had taken more than just a few nights for her to become accustomed to the close and watchful eye of the young apprentice her husband had taken under his wing.
"I would prefer to be alone, thank you," she told him. "And don't worry. I won't let you get in trouble with Renji."
A scowl cracked the boy's chipper face. He scoffed. It was quiet, yet somehow dignified. "Ask your beloved husband how many times I've defeated him during training since his last birthday. He's getting old."
The corners of Rukia's mouth curved up and into a small smile. Her fingers fidgeted at her side before she lifted a hand to touch the door, grazing the smooth texture with a featherlight touch. "He wouldn't appreciate you telling me that."
Rikichi chuckled at her teasing. The sound was warm and gentle. It made the empress-consort think of a pleasant winter evening spent in front of a blazing fireplace while a wild blizzard raged and howled outside. Peace. "That shall remain our little secret, then. Where should I tell him you've journeyed to, should he awaken and question me?"
Rukia's fingers stopped moving. They lingered on the door just a moment longer before she pulled them away to rest at her side. She looked to the young guard. The tattoo above his left eye caught her attention as he smiled. He loved her husband, too. This comforted her. "He'll know where to find me. He always does."
"Hai," he assented with a nod. He bowed at the waist. "Enjoy your stroll, Rukia-sama."
"Thank you, Rikichi."
Rukia made her way to the grand garden after that. She took the long way because she was still so unsure of what she wanted or if she even wanted whatever this was. She quickly arrived to her destination despite this. When she stepped through the entrance and caught that first whiff of freshly trimmed grass, her chest and lungs felt like they had been cracked open.
She could breathe.
The garden always did this to her. It allowed her to breathe and to think clearly, especially with that endlessly open view of the night sky. It had quickly become her favorite dwelling place within the palace upon her arrival three years ago.
Rukia raised her chin and looked to the sky, searching for answers. She was not exactly sure of what she was asking, but she was silently begging and pleading for some sort of deliverance. Any answer would do. Yet the only response she received was the continual sparkling of the stars that stared right back at her. Their twinkling was reminiscent of sly winks.
A twinge of confusion and disappointment poked at her stomach, prompting her to kick her slippers off and sit on the grass. Renji would have immediately pulled her into his lap had he been there, playfully chastising her for giving the cleaners more laundry to do. The thought of that made her smile. No. The thought of her husband made her smile.
She picked at a patch of grass beside her, curling the thin blades around her fingers. They reminded her of him. And it hurt.
Ached.
Rukia was not too sure if she liked this sensation or not.