Part VI
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Regardless of what his stupid baser needs whine and pine about a missing alpha with amethysts for eyes and how he should have just asked her out for a coffee instead of chickening out, Ichigo knows that he is doing fine, better than fine actually. He is calm, serene and his morning at work has been perfect.
So what if he catches faint whiffs of her trailing on Renji when the other man joins him for lunch in the cafeteria, sidling close by to reach for the salt on Ichigo's right. He swallows, chiding himself for overreacting. This is normal. Renji did say they are friends, best friends since childhood, and that they used to go skinny-dipping together.
Ichigo doesn't careand he is definitely not bothered.
He stabs at his chicken viciously with his fork, twirling at the pasta with a scowl. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean that he is at the moment, pettily hoping that the salt shaker tips open and accidentally pours so much salt over Renji's beef steak that he chokes on it.
Ichigo is not petty and he is certainly not jealous.
He is just … annoyed by… by how dry and bland the chicken is!
"Yo Earth to Ichigo?"
"What!"
His snappish reply gets him a concerned look from Renji and earns him more than his fair share of curious looks from nearby colleagues. He can feel the unease rolling from them. A spat between alpha males have the tendency to escalate and Ichigo has enough decency to feel ashamed about his raised volume, carefully lowering his voice, mindful of his surroundings as Renji quirks an eyebrow at him and asks.
"What crawled up your ass and died, man?"
Ichigo rolls his eyes, blatantly lying to Renji's face when he tells him that his bad mood is work-related and possibly even stress-induced.
"Then I have just the thing for you!"
The grin that unfurls on Renji's face is a little too wild, a little too sharp for Ichigo's taste, but to be fair it's not like he is in the running for Ichigo's favourite person of the year right now.
Ichigo suppresses a growl, fighting to keep himself from attempting to rip the arm off him when Renji huddles closer, draping an arm over his shoulder like they are best friends.
"I have the perfect plan in mind for you to work off that aggression. Join me and the gang this Friday. There's a new club that just opened downtown and Shuuhei swears by it. The ladies are apparently smoking hot," a wolfish grin follows the wink, "Perfect for you with your work-induced stress."
"As tempting as you make it to be, Renji," says Ichigo as he removes the arm from his shoulder, "I'm going to pass."
Ichigo tries to act cool, suppressing the nervousness that wrecks through him whenever he thinks about being in a club, surrounded by all those foreign scents; strangers and their sweaty bodies pressed close to his, the flashing lights overhead almost blinding and loud music grate on his nerves.
His fists clench at the thought. He hates it. Scent blockers can be washed away by sweat. Social gatherings are not his thing. Whenever he is forced to make an appearance, dragged to some crazy night out by Renji, he always needs to be extra careful and make sure he slips away at the right time without garnering any suspicion from the boys. It all adds on to the risk of his secret being discovered and that is the last thing he needs right now.
He lets his sneer curl over his lips, scoffing, feigning annoyance when all he feels is anxiety. It works for the most part. He has been told on many separate occasions that he has a good poker face. Renji and his band of merry club-goers tend to leave him well alone and he usually manages to evade most of their invitations using that tactic.
"I have plans for the weekend and none of them involve playing babysitter while the rest of you are hunched over the porcelain god, puking your guts out in the wee hours of Saturday morning."
Key word here being 'usually', and let's face it, his luck has not exactly been the best as of late.
Renji's glare is suspicious and more than a little invasive as he leans in.
"I swear to God there's something going on here! First Rukia, now you—" the redhead rolls his eyes, folding his arm as he mutters exasperatedly— "what is wrong with you people? I am trying to be nice here! Don't think I haven't noticed that you've been all distant and moody since you recovered from your man flu! This is the perfect pick-me-up for you!"
Renji is not only taller, but also built like a heavy-weight boxer- what with his dedication to hitting the gym on his day offs and his love for weight-lifting. His equally impressive collection of tattoo that covers his entire body adds another dimension to his intimidation factor.
This time, Ichigo- fake alpha or not, will not take it lying down. The mention of Rukia's name- Alpha!- from Renji's lips sets his teeth on edge, makes his fist itch to sink into his stupid face and realign his ridiculous hairline tattoos. Who the fuck does he think he is? He has no right to be using her name so casually! Rukia is his alpha!
The anger that seeps into his tone burns as he scoffs, "Like hell it is! You just want someone to be the designated driver! Get Ishida to do it!"
Renji backs off. Ichigo tries to leave the smugness out of his face when he notices how the alpha male withdraws his gaze, a slight pout that borders on sheepish, growing on his lips. Predictable, he thinks. Despite his size, Renji is a pushover. He folds the minute things start to get hairy with even the slightest whiff of tension in the air.
He tries to salvage what remains of his pride and Ichigo allows it.
"Four-Eyes already said 'no'," Renji sniffs, "I mean, we could always end up leaving the club with someone else. We might just get lucky. I mean, I could end up bagging myself an omega for the night and take off with her instead."
Ichigo grimaces, his nose scrunching up in disgust. The man has no shame.
"I'm sure the girl must have had too much to drink. Coyote ugly much?"
"Oi! You take that back! I'd like to see you try! I bet you couldn't even score a date with a chick by the end of the night."
He deadpans, "not interested. Unlike somebody, I don't have to get a girl drunk just so she can give me the time of day. Some of us have better things to do."
"Oh yeah. Like what?"
Ichigo shrugs, "Stuff."
"When was the last time you got laid then?"
Ichigo narrows his eyes. He refuses to let himself be baited over something as stupid as that.
"None of your goddamned business," he hisses.
Damn Renji and his stupid mouth! His inner omega is harping something about missing his alpha again; about missing her presence, the way she makes him feel warm and wanted. Memories of the heat and Rukia hit him hard. It is completely irrational how his mind flits to the memory of her bewitching eyes, her plump lips enveloped around his cock, the slip and slide of her warm skin against his as they melded together.
His heart clenches at the thought of her and her scent, especially when she had been so close- close enough for him to reach out and touch her; her kisses as addictive as nicotine during their encounter on the rooftop garden. It was their own hidden Eden, sanctuary from the prying eyes of this world as he indulged in his craven need to be near her- without fear of judgment or repercussion for his moment of weakness.
Renji's grin stretches wide, making Ichigo's hackles rise. He dives in for the kill, mistaking the other man's sudden aggression as an open admission of a longer than normal dry spell. Ichigo suppresses the urge to snort. It could not have been further from the truth.
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If only he knew.
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"Oh looks like I hit a nerve there. So what do you say then? Ready to hit the scene with me and the boys? You might end up spending the night with a hot omega instead of your lonesome self?"
Ichigo growls. It is stupid of course. Renji doesn't even know what he is, let alone that the thought of spending the night and being intimate with another omega is as unappealing to him as watching paint dry. He only wants –
No, he stops his dangerous train of thought just in time. Stupid omega brain and his stupid neediness! It doesn't matter what he wants. What is he thinking anyway?
Rukia- the thought of her and what could have been between them, already plagues his mind for an unholy amount of time throughout the day. He doesn't need to give her any more power over him or his state of mind.
"Forget about it," he says, scowling as he crosses his arms, "I am not about to be goaded into playing adult babysitter for the night while watching you guys flounder and act like obnoxious assholes."
.
.
Shuuhei and Ikkaku are both late. He wonders if they are held up by traffic.
Renji on the other hand, is already getting antsy, sniffing after anything with a skirt on that walks with a sleaziness that borders on nauseating. He has it up to here already with Renji. Any more and Ichigo just might just end up accidentally punching him in the face.
He grimaced. Where was Ishida when you needed him? The lawyer was uptight and a class A asshole at times but the sobering effect of the beta male is undeniably effective. In his presence, Renji seems to almost know when to keep his thoughts to himself.
"I still don't know how I let you talk me into this!" Ichigo grumbles moodily to the grinning redhead as he nurses his glass of coke. He is determined to stay sober for the night, if only to make sure his guard doesn't slip around anyone.
He winces at the loud techno music blaring from the loudspeakers, ignores the shit-eating grin that Renji shoots him as he orders another round of drinks. The redhead nudges at him.
"Cheer up, you sourpuss! I swear you're just as bad as Four-Eyes sometimes! Would it kill you to just live a little?"
Ichigo is scowling as Renji's elbow digs a little too sharply against his. He bites his lips, taking another sip from his non-alcoholic drink to avoid snarking back. He really is just too nice sometimes. That, and the fact that he really wants Renji to drop the whole thing. Renji mentioned something about Rukia acting weird as well. Ichigo doesn't need to give him any more reasons to start putting two and two together, or suspect that there is something going on between him and Rukia.
If this is what it takes for him to shut up and drop the subject, then Ichigo would begrudgingly suffer idiots and their antics, putting up with an ordeal in the night club for the sake of keeping his secret safe.
The loud music makes his head throb but Renji seems to be in his element as his eyes linger and rove across the sea of club-goers, eagerly sniffing the air for a hint of their scent. He eyes the gaggle of leggy blondes- cheeks red and giggling loudly, voluptuous figures clad in their skin-tight dresses, footsteps a little unsteady as they walk past him; giving a low appreciative whistle as one of them spares a flirtatious smile towards their general direction.
Her scent is cloyingly sweet and sticky, thick enough to make Ichigo sneeze- a sickening mixture of ice-cream cake with maple syrup drizzled on top, lathered with a heavy layer of icing on top. Ichigo grimaces, feeling a phantom ache on his molars as the scent passes through- an omega for sure.
But to Renji, it seems to make his eyes shine, the thrill of the hunt gleams in his eyes as the grin unfurls a little predatorily on him; his eyes trail after the girl as her posse makes their way further to the dance floor.
"Shuuhei wasn't kidding. The ladies in this club are fiiiine!"
Ichigo rolls his eyes in response, wondering for the umpteenth time for the day just how he ended up becoming friends with the idiot. "Cut that shit out, man. It's disgusting."
He would have said more too if it were not for the fact that he was distracted by the scent of something else in the air.
The smell of pine- sharp and sweet, assails him. Winter's chill is frosty on his bare skin, granting him a short reprieve from the uncomfortable humidity inside the crowded room. Goosebumps prickled and there is heat that pools to the pit of his stomach, making him gulp as he scans the crowd for a glimpse of her- eyes wild, heart pounding.
He knows that she is here, breathing the same air, listening to that god-awful crap being blasted from the speakers at ear-splitting decibels. He smells her before he even hears her. The omega in him is howling and he knows- Ichigo knows that he needs to get out of here.
"Sorry I am late."
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Speak of the devil.
The sound of her voice causes Ichigo to stiffen. He half-turns and there she is— the untameable ocean, rolling ocean waves crashing against the shore, rough tides and even darker skies, sea breezes that bring with it the promise of rain; the storm that she summons just by her sheer presence. His mouth goes dry, unable to tear his eyes away from her gaze. Her violet-blue pools of ice, stormy and deep enough for him to drown in and he is caught in a siren's song; mesmerised to the point where he almost forgets to breathe.
It is Rukia, clad in a body-con dress- red as the colour of blood and cut short to stop at her knees. It fits her like a glove, highlighting the daintiness of her waist before it flares to her hips, while the dress hangs off shoulder, baring her throat to his hungry eyes. He gulps, fists clenching at the glass as he stares, breath-hitching at the expanse of pale skin- the top of her shoulders, her collarbone, the space where her clavicles dip and hollow; creamy skin unmarked as far as anyone could see.
He pretends to be unaffected, tries so hard to play nice and act composed but there is an animal—hungry and needy hiding just underneath his skin. A part of him is angry- so very angry that the marks have faded and there is no denying to what the omega in him wants.
He wants—
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Alpha!
Rukia!
Mate!
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"What's the matter, Ichigo? Cat got your tongue?"
The teasing edge to her voice is a dead giveaway to her intentions. His attempts at playing dumb and peace offering backfired- spectacularly. Rukia is done playing nice. She is out for blood tonight and he knows it when she presses forward, offering him a glimpse of her cleavage.
He remembers- he remembers how beautiful her naked form looked under the dim lights, the way the salt of her skin tastes as he nips at her perky tits, flicking his tongue playfully at her sensitive nipples as his hands grab at her breasts, kneading while she moans and squirms for him. She would throw her head back in ecstasy, hissing at the heat and friction that burns between them as her pussy clenches at him, making him choke at how tight she is. Her voice is so utterly delicious, hoarse and on the verge of breaking as she praises him for being so attentive to her needs, for knowing exactly what she wanted and giving to her just like that- and he goes harder, faster for her, buries himself balls deep and aching inside of her until they both spiral.
Nothing matters beyond Rukia's satisfaction and he aims to deliver.
He gulps as he forces himself to look away.
Rukia throws a smirk at him as she walks past him. She has her back to him as she engages in friendly conversation with Renji. That's when he notices that her dress is backless and cut low enough that there was no way she is wearing panties or there would be panty lines showing already.
She loses her balance somehow midway through the conversation. Renji throws his head back with laughter at her sudden clumsiness but Ichigo is ready as she tips, falling backwards into him. He instinctively braces forward for the impact, catching her in his lap. Rukia's dark eyes are still gleaming and Ichigo can feel the way they peer at him from the corner of her eyes, watching him for his reaction as she wiggles and squirms, brushing her fingers so innocently against his crotch when she tries to stand. His cock stirs and twitches with interest.
"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to do that. These shoes are so uncomfortable—" It is subtle and sneaky, the way she draws his interest to her shoes- the black stilettos, dangerously high and pointy. It works nonetheless. He has a vision of her keeping those on, with her legs thrown over his shoulders as he fucks into her, making her scream his name just the way he loves it while he leaves his marks over her body, fingers rubbing at her clit, bringing her over the edge- again and again until they are both boneless and spent— "It's just so dark and hard to see in this place."
Her apology is as insincere as his intention to stick around any longer for Renji's sake.
Ichigo brings his hands to rest at her hips, seemingly to steady her. But he doesn't miss the sharp intake of breath from Rukia as the warmth of his palms meet the material of the silky dress. It wouldn't take much to push the dress up, for his fingers to slide and dip into her wet heat.
He can feel her arousal growing as he tugs her closer. Renji is predictably distracted by the availability of fresh meat, still operating under the assumption that he is leaving for the night with one of those pretty women hanging off his arm, and misses everything as Ichigo grounds his hips, rubbing his still-clothed hard-on against Rukia's plump and delicious ass as he holds her in place.
Rukia turns to face him, taking his breath away with how hungry she looks. Her eyes are nothing more than a dark ring of purple, pupils blown. She whimpers- needy and so terribly desperate for him and his touch as she stares into his golden eyes, chewing at her lips. She tenses, eyes darting to her surroundings but a second later, he feels the heat from her hands, the barely-there tremor in them as they cover his, guiding his hand to slip and slide under her dress and this time, Ichigo whimpers.
He is right. She is not wearing any panties underneath the dress and she is so wet for him.
Dear Lord—
He can barely resist the temptation to tear the wretched thing off her body and take her then and there. He growls, stroking at her folds, fingers idly flicking at her clit; earning him a choked moan as she tries hard not to buck her hips at the intrusion of his fingers.
"Rukia," he hisses her name as his fingers slide a little deeper inside of her, making her squirm and buck with the way he finds her spot and circles it. Her grip on his knee tenses and he can feel it in her stare, her silent plea for more.
There is no doubt about it. There is no way he is leaving the club with anyone but her tonight. Her scent sings to him, coaxes at him to come lay himself at her feet, to worship her and in turn be taken and claimed for. The omega with him is keening with barely concealed excitement at how alpha is here with him again.
He wants her- with an intensity that is frightening in its single-mindedness.
And this time, there is no heat or even alcohol for him to point fingers at. It goes beyond stupid omega instincts and biological needs. Is there a name for this- this bond he feels with her? This need to be close to her and keep breathing her in until the world melts away into nothingness.
Would it hurt to just give in for once? To pretend that he is worthy of being hers, that she wants him too?
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Author's note:
7 is a very magical number indeed. Rukia knows how to play the game. *smirks* R.I.P. Ichigo.