Chained

by Hese Solstis

The pre-emptive strike of the Wandenreich takes a devastating toll on the Gotei 13. Vice-captain Kuchiki Rukia leads what remains of her division through the fallen city in hopes of reaching the Kuchiki senkaimon so the Shinigami can regroup in the Human World. But even the simplest of plans can go awry and when she is captured by a flame-haired Sternritter...

7. Cool Girl

Cool Girl

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.

Her nose itches but Rukia resists the urge to scratch. Staring at the woman in the mirror, she can scarcely believe that they are one and the same. She stares hard at her own reflection, trying to pick at her flaws but Masaki has done such a good job at covering up her blemishes, she finds none. At that moment in time she can hardly recognize herself.

The fine layer of powder that Masaki applies to her face feels cool and light, making her skin glow and highlights her fair complexion. The blush that settles on her cheeks is natural and pink; her lips painted in a bold red hue that makes her think of apples and ripened strawberries in the summer sun. Her inky black hair is twisted into an up-do that frames her heart-shaped face, drawing attention to the pair of diamond-studded hoop earrings that hang low and sparkle when they catch the light.

There is a wide expanse of skin showing with her dress, much more than the traditional kimonos she wears for the Kuchiki-hosted soirees and parties in Seireitei, but the end creation is draped and designed in such a way that is too beautiful to ever be called risqué or gaudy.

The beaded bodice glimmers with the light of a thousand stars. The neckline dips low to show cleavage, the swell of her breast. The skirt of her dress is gauzy and ethereal, shimmering in pale grey and nude, parting with a slit on the side to offer a teasing glimpse of her leg, all the way to her thigh as she takes a few tentative steps and twirls in front of the full-length mirror. Even her shoes- the silver strapped stilettos are studded with false stones and sparkle under the light. Rukia feels like a dream walking in her finery. She feels strangely confident about her own femininity in it; powerful for a change, as if finally coming alive after a lifetime submerged under frozen ice. She almost forgot how nice it felt.

"You look beautiful! My son is going to have a hard time keeping his eyes- and his hands for that matter, off of you."

Rukia gulps, tearing her eyes away from her reflection. She smooths at the layers of satin, smiling faintly at the luxurious feel of the material sliding against her fingers. Her voice chokes with emotions as she makes eye contact with the taller woman whose gaze is motherly and a little amused.

Masaki is dressed in a mermaid gown for the evening. The royal blue of the silk dress complements her natural colouring. The sweetheart neckline of the dress is gilded by a row of pear-cut brilliant blue sapphires and diamonds. The crowning glory that is her hair- red, curly and long; tumbles freely over her shoulders like a veil.

"T-Thank you."

Rukia has never felt so beautiful, has never thought of herself capable of it until today. Masaki and her seamstress- Hilda are nothing less than miracle workers for what they did for her.

Masaki scoffs, flippantly waving her off with a smile. "I didn't do anything but bring to surface what was already there to begin with. You are a beautiful woman, Rukia. Don't sell yourself short and don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise."

The two women stare at their reflections in the mirror for one final time, tucking away stray hairs and smoothing at imaginary crinkles at the folds of their dresses. Then, linking her hands in Rukia's, Masaki gives her a broad grin and guides them towards the doors.

"Now let's go knock the socks off my idiot son!"

.

Noisy chatters and airy light-hearted giggles fill the air as they approach the scene. Up ahead, Rukia sees light and steels herself accordingly. She is no coward but the closer she gets, the stronger the urge becomes to turn tail and run in the opposite direction from Sternritters and Quincy who would want her dead for simply being a Shinigami. The feeling of dread coils in her gut and has her body thrumming with nervousness.

There is a throng of people not too far away, huddled in expensive furs and minks. Their pretty gowns and tailored suits are resplendent and beautiful, making up the bulk of their conversations as they titter and exchange delicate compliments amongst themselves. It passes the time while they wait for their arrivals to be announced. Rukia clenches her fists tight as she trudges forward with her head held high, her expression schooled to reflect nothing but boredom and nonchalance.

At their approach, the near-constant trill of conversation lulls. There are a handful of curious gazes aimed not-so subtly at her. It makes her skin crawl, feeling like an exotic animal in the zoo under their open stares. The unabashed looks of hatred and scorn are curtailed somewhat by the presence of Masaki by her side. The Crown Prince's mother has a sharp glare and her presence serves as an important reminder of the prince's presence and his terrible wrath, effectively stilling their tongues and forces them to keep their distance, remaining somewhat civil.

They do not dare to approach the pair, though Rukia can't help but overhear snippets of private conversations. The shock and disgust in them drifts unfettered in their harsh words, the cruel and mocking giggles hastily covered up behind a hand or a fan when Masaki gives them a pointed look.

.

"What is she doing here?"

"Hush! Hold your tongue! You know what Ichigo said. You know that he is capable of it!"

"Speak of the devil! I swear- the air grows putrid in her presence. The muck of the Shinigamis!"

"Disgusting! Did she think that just because she's keeping his bed warm she's made something of herself? Walking like she's better than us! It takes more than just fine clothes and a pretty face to make up for what she is!"

"I thought she would be beautiful at least to have caught the eye of a prince, but this? She leaves much to be desired. No accounting for taste, I suppose."

"The All Father must be mad! She can't possibly—"

.

Rukia forces herself to relax and ignore them. It is no different than the Kuchiki galas and noble gatherings that she has attended in the past, where one half of the room despises her for even existing, wilfully ignoring her existence; while the other makes a sport of seeing her break, taunting her with their sneers and thinly-veined insults.

Sticks and stones, she tells herself. Kuchiki Rukia is made of sterner stuff. Her years in the Kuchiki household have armed her with thick skin and an icy glare. This is nothing that she cannot handle- with or without Ichigo's threats and his protection.

"Mother!"

The sound of Ichigo's voice cuts through her trepidation and mulling thoughts. She looks up to see him making his way towards them and the crowd dips in bows and curtsies, their expressions unreadable as they hurry to clear him a wide berth. Rukia would grudgingly admit that he cleans up well. The tuxedo that he wears is form-fitting and sleek in all-black, with just a hint of white peeking through the neatly ironed high-collared shirt he wears underneath the jacket.

Rukia can pinpoint the exact moment that Ichigo saw her in the dress. His gaze wanders away from his mother- beautiful and tall in her royal blue gown, to drop to the raven-haired woman next to her, deducing who she is almost by a process of elimination and his eyes widen. His guard drops for that one moment in time and in them, Rukia sees the awestruck look on his face. His surprise is noted in the sudden stop, the slack-jawed expression that he covers up by clearing his throat loudly. The gleam in his eyes becomes more pronounced; golden amber winking as they drink in her form, trailing low from the curve of her face to the sudden plunge at the front of her dress, the warm skin on display through the slit of it before they make their way to her lips.

His Adam's apple bobs and Rukia is likewise tense when their eyes meet.

The air hisses. Heat rushes to pool at the pit of her stomach. Her heart hammers at the hungry gleam that settles in his eyes as he approaches her with a purpose in his steps, a smirk curled along his lips. She can taste the promise he gives from the look that they share- of their bodies coiling and writhing as one, clothes in tatters and hair tousled. She can hear the syllables forming at the tip of his tongue, rolling to spell out her name.

"Ru—"

"This boy!"

Rukia turns just in time to see the frown on Masaki's face before the woman marches forward, shaking her head and wagging her finger at her son, clucking her tongue at his appearance. The magic of the moment is lost. Rukia suppresses the urge to giggle at the idea of an Ichigo with his hair slicked and gelled. She might not recognize him without his shock of wild hair.

"Look at the state of your hair! And where is your bow-tie?"

Ichigo shrugs off his mother's chiding with a deadpanned expression, replying in an all-too serious voice that he could not find his bow-tie despite his mother's insistence that it was right on the night stand before she left to fetch Rukia for her fitting.

"Madame Kurosaki!"

Masaki scowls at the herald, who valiantly ignores it. She mumbles under her breath, annoyed that she is being made to leave before she is done lecturing Ichigo. She fixes her son with a glare before turning to Rukia. She gently smooths at the Shinigami's hair and then tugs her over to her son, resting Rukia's hand in the crook of Ichigo's elbow.

"Take care of her," she says before making her entrance to the ballroom, disappearing from sight in five measured strides.

And now, it is just the two of them left. Rukia turns to Ichigo, her eyes easily finding his as her grip on his elbow tightens, betraying her nervousness despite the brave face that she puts on. Ichigo covers her hand with his own, keeping it in place as he bends low to whisper into her ear.

"You look beautiful."

He draws back just long enough to give the portly man by the door a meaningful look. The herald is plain but dignified-looking in his uniform and the well-groomed moustache that he keeps. He clears his throat and makes the necessary announcement.

"His Royal Highness Crown Prince Ichigo and … Rukia."

The double doors swing open at the sound of the herald's booming voice. With her hand gripped firmly in Ichigo's, he leads them forward and they are plunged into light.

.

The double doors open to a mezzanine platform that overlooks the glittering ballroom. There is a sea of people looking up at them as she looks down but Rukia's gaze doesn't linger on them. Instead, it flits to the arching ceiling, in awe of the delicate fresco painting and mosaic tiles that form the Quincy Zeichen adorning it. A crystal chandelier dangles low from the ceiling; sheaves of gold lining the columns and pillars as they touch. The stairwell that extends from the platform and the balustrade are bone white and gleaming, seemingly carved from ivory. Beyond it lays colourful mosaic tiles and marble. Every inch of the room is unbelievably luxurious and grand.

The conversations in the ballroom come to an abrupt close at the announcement of their arrival. Her heart is hammering and she tightens her grip on Ichigo, who flashes a wry grin before whispering to her, "I am very glad that Mom insisted on meeting just outside the ballroom."

His voice is husky. The warmth of his palm slides to the small of her back as he huddles closer to her. He has her undivided attention, jerking her away from her nervous thoughts. He enjoys the heat from her gaze as they snap to him after a languid sweep at the opulence of the ballroom.

Rukia is an evening star- glowing soft and bright even when they are drowned in a sea of light.

His hand reaches out to touch and brush at her pale skin, his voice suddenly dipping low to share his secret with her.

"I don't think we would have made it to the ball at all if I saw you like this in private."

Heat licks at her cheeks at the sound of his throaty chuckles and the intent behind his words. "S-Stop embarrassing me! There are people watching us. Let's go!"

"Give me a second. There's just one more thing that I need to do," he whispers and Rukia watches as he tugs out a chain of gleaming jewels from the depth of his pockets.

The exquisiteness of the necklace takes her breath away. It features a long row of diamonds- a chain of small and delicate stones that dangles from his hand. The necklace is long enough to be wrapped along her pale neck twice and shimmers beautifully as it catches the light. It is expertly crafted and magnificent on its own but the surprise doesn't just stop there. There is a pendant that suspends itself from the diamond ribbon- a cluster of near-flawless round, marquise and pear-shaped diamonds arranged into a bouquet of bejewelled flowers, lifelike and blooming; brighter and lovelier than the chain of diamonds it hangs from.

"This is—"

Rukia doesn't think she has ever seen such craftsmanship before and the jewels would have been worth a fortune just on their own. Her years as a Kuchiki have made her just the slightest bit more appreciative of the finer things in life, enough to know that this brand of luxury and opulence doesn't come cheap. It could have kept all the souls in a poorer district of the Rukongai warm and fed for a millennium at least.

She gulps, bringing her hand up to push it back towards Ichigo. She cannot accept this.

Ichigo's eyes darken, noticing her reluctance in accepting his gift. He cuts through it sharply by tugging her close, silencing her protests by grabbing her outstretched wrist and planting a kiss on the back of her palm.

"I insist. Let me," he murmurs as he loops the diamond chain around her neck twice. He keeps a hand on her lower back while eyeing the occupants of the room, aggressively making eye contact with those who lack the sense to avert their gazes, as if daring them to go ahead and say something about them.

The threat is loud and as clear as day: Rukia is his. Touch her and there will be consequences.

He takes a small step back to admire the look of it on her when it is done. The pendant dips low and rests at just the right length between her breasts. The stones feel cold and heavy against her skin. Ichigo's gift is heavy both in meaning and in monetary value, but he seems to think nothing of it as he grins at her. Rukia shudders as Ichigo's face dips low towards hers again and his lips lightly brush against hers.

"A pretty necklace for the most beautiful woman in the room."

His voice rings with sincerity, making her breath catch as he rests her hand on the crook of his elbow again before leading her down the staircase.

"Let's go."

Ichigo's presence and warmth reassures her as she takes the first step towards the crowd. Even when she can feel the weight of a thousand stares digging sharply into her, she is calm; soothed by the fact that Ichigo is here with her. She focuses her attention in getting down from the stairs in one piece. The stilettos she puts on for the evening are higher with a thinner heel than what she is used to. Walking in them is a trick that she has yet to master completely and she has no intention of making a scene by tripping on them.

They reach the end of the staircase after what seems to be an eternity. But Ichigo doesn't stop there. She watches as he exchanges a look with a pale skinned man, his dark hair sleek and parted on the side. The man stands out in the crowd, looking tall and handsome in a white tuxedo with blue accents- bow-tie present and accounted for. His dark eyes and silver-rimmed spectacles glint in the light, but from him, Rukia senses no animosity. If anything, he pauses to give her a kind smile when he notices her stare.

Rukia watches as the bespectacled man turn to grab two champagne flutes from the table before making his way, champagne in tow, towards Masaki, who is at the moment being surrounded by a group of noisy, tittering women eagerly paying her compliments.

"Who is that?" she asks, tugging at Ichigo's arm for his attention.

"Ishida," Ichigo replies, "he's my cousin."

"You have a cousin? By blood?"

"Yes, on my mother's side. I'll introduce him to you some other time."

Rukia is more than a little surprised at the revelation. Ichigo is notoriously tight-lipped about himself and his secrets. There are many things that she wants to ask and know about him. Does he know about the story of Masaki saving a Shinigami?

Why is it just him and Masaki here? What about the rest of his family?

She remembers him mentioning how he has no intention of being disowned by Masaki. If Masaki is the only parent he has left, does that mean his father is dead?

Does he have siblings?

She wants to ask him more about them. She wants to know everything about him if he'll let her but knows that it will have to be a matter for another time as Ichigo leads her to the centre of the room. They stop just in front of the raised platform where a full ensemble is gathered. The brass instruments gleam in the light and violin bows ready themselves for their signal.

With his hand settled on her waist and hers on his shoulder, Ichigo nods at the silver-haired maestro and at the older man's beckoning, sweet music pours forth, serenading the masses as the musicians begin to play. It is a slow song and her feet carry themselves at Ichigo's lead, swaying in time to the music. Her body remembers the steps to the dance even though she carries herself somewhat stiffly, unsettled despite her best attempts to ignore the open stares from everyone in the room.

"Relax. Pretend that it's just you and me here. Eyes on me. I'll keep you safe."

Rukia tilts her head upwards to meet his gaze. The tension and tightness in her limbs seem to melt away at his words and the slight smirk that he gives her. His hand presses a little firmer against her waist and she leans in to his touch, squeezing at their linked hands as they glide. She trusts Ichigo and believes him when he says that he will keep her safe. She is safer in this snake pit with him by her side.

The others in the room take the cue from them, taking to the dance floor in pairs. Little by little, the atmosphere in the ballroom lightens and the tenseness in Rukia melts away in entirety as they become just one of the many dancing couples on the dance floor, dancing the night away in their many splendored gowns and tailored robes, making memories to last a lifetime.

There is only her and Ichigo, their song playing softly in the background.

.

Ichigo leads her over to the buffet tables at the end of the song. Rukia is acutely aware of how the stares follow them as they excuse themselves from the dance floor. Hushed whispers still and quieten at the flash of Ichigo's menacing glare but they always pick up again when he turns his back on them. Rukia is thankful at least that they all keep their distance. Ichigo's presence keeps them at bay.

"Eat," he tells her as he hands her a silver plate and eagerly plies it with delicate finger foods. There is a wide assortment of delicacies of the likes that she had never seen before, though she is quick to recognize fish roes and raw salmon slices. Ichigo takes the time to introduce each of them to her, urging her to taste those that he thinks she would enjoy best. She picks and nibbles at them under Ichigo's approving hum, smiling at the explosion of flavours in her mouth.

Rukia is on her second plate and fully enjoying the bite-sized macaroons when out of the corner of her eyes, she sees a striking man with blonde hair and green eyes stalking angrily towards them. Ichigo's presence is a magnet, drawing him in like lodestone instead of becoming a deterrent.

"That's Jugram," Ichigo mouths at her when he notices her worrying look. The confrontation is inevitable and imminent. Rukia chews and swallows, resolutely standing her ground as the blonde man stops in front of Ichigo.

His eyebrows are furrowed deep and his scowl on his face especially fierce. He seems equal parts disgusted and infuriated as he pushes past her. Jugram gives her a rude glare when their eyes meet, but deigns her to be beneath his notice. He says nothing to her but turns to question Ichigo instead.

"Ichigo," he hisses, "why is your reiryouku seeping from her? You fool! Have you lost your mind and impregnated a Shinigami?"

Rukia's face flushes hot at the line of question, more so when Jugram narrows his eyes to towards her flat stomach. She is mortified, almost dropping her plate, suddenly remembering that the Quincy are experts at manipulating reishi and sensing reiryouku. That would at least explain some of the pointed looks she receives then.

Do they all think that she is pregnant with his child?

Ichigo rolls his eyes. Colour rises to his cheeks from either anger or embarrassment, or possibly a mixture of both. His voice is strained as he denies Jugram's accusations.

"She's not pregnant! It's an implant for contraceptive purposes. And I'm sure you noticed- it lets everyone know that the Shinigami is mine."

Jugram looks nonplussed, as if he doubts the truth behind Ichigo's words but it doesn't stop him from glowering. "T-This is unnatural! You should have just killed the Shinigami when you had the chance."

"The All Father gave His blessing. She stays. Alive!"

Ichigo is angry and would have said more if he weren't stilled by a heavy hand clutching at his shoulders. The others in the ballroom are rendered speechless as they see their Emperor and King appearing before them, his large hand perched comfortably upon the shoulders of their flame-haired prince.

"All Father!"

The music stops playing. Every movement in the ballroom stills at Yhwach's appearance. The presence that he commands is harsh and unforgiving. He demands obedience and total submission from the crowd, and they are compelled to do so. Everyone in attendance- be it a dancer stopped mid-step, a gossiping Sternritter or a member of the orchestra, bends their knees towards the terrible man, dipping their heads low, faces unreadable as they bow and curtsy.

Rukia can hardly breathe as she clenches her fists in the satin layers of her dress. She stands her ground- unbowed and unbent, eyes staring resolutely ahead. The Wandenreich Emperor is dressed plainly in his double-breasted trench coat, white trousers and black boots, tattered maroon cloak held in place by the large silver sigil.

Wine-red eyes narrow at her, smirking at seeing her show of defiance. Rukia gulps. This is the first time she comes face to face with the tyrant, the one who is responsible for the murder of her comrades and the destruction of Soul Society. The man that they call Emperor is a tall man with broad shoulders. His hair trails long and black, nearly reaching his waist and he is clean shaven apart from his moustache. There is not a touch of grey on him- making him to appear ageless and untouched by the ravage of time despite his long face. Cruelty is etched in every feature on his face, pronounced in the smirk that pulls at his lips and the gleam in his eyes.

The monster has her within its sight, finding her to be a more worthwhile prey to stalk as he releases his grip on Ichigo's shoulder and takes a step towards her instead. Yhwach's gaze alone is enough to make her skin crawl, to feel coldness gripping at her heart. He expects her to bend and kneel at the twitch of his lips, to cower in fear at the sight of him, but Rukia forces herself to meet his gaze fearlessly.

That tyrant is not her king and she is not his subject. She is neither Quincy nor a Sternritter, but a Shinigami. She has not forgotten that. Her hands are trembling from rage so potent and powerful that it is only the pulse and coil of Ichigo's reiryouku within her, his reiatsu flowing steadily nearby that stops her from doing anything rash.

Ichigo's eyes snap to hers. His eyes are almost pleading, urging her to at least dip her head and avert her gaze, but Rukia ignores it. She keeps the set of her chin firm, her stare unblinkingly wide and her back straight.

If it is a fight Yhwach wants, let him come!

She will show him how strong and sharp her resolve burns even without her zanpakutou.

Rukia steels herself for an attack, gathering her reiryouku in defense. She readies herself even in the absence of Shirayuki, even when survival instincts harp at her to stand down. She should stand down if she ever wants to live to see Nii-sama and Ukitake-Taichou. The odds are not in her favour and she may lose her life in the process, but Rukia is a Shinigami, a proud member of the Thirteenth. Her captain's words ring true and come to mind in her hour of need: one should never balk at the decision of doing what is right and standing by it even when the price is sometimes too heavy to bear. Some fights- for honour, for pride- are more important than life itself.

Yet, much to everyone's surprise—

"Dance the next dance with me, Shinigami."

Rukia blinks. Yhwach extends his hand towards her as an invitation, lips curling. She furrows her brows at the open hand. Does he think that she wouldn't have the guts to accept it?

She raises her hand tentatively.

Jugram narrows his eyes at her and finds his voice in time to protest. Next to him, Ichigo scrambles to his feet, his panic evident as he tries to slap her hand away, putting himself between Yhwach and her.

"All Father, she is—"

"Your Majesty, that is absurd!"

.

—But she is quicker.

.

Rukia shudders. Yhwach's hand dwarfs hers and it is ice cold, devoid of warmth much like his soulless eyes. Nonetheless, she keeps her grip on it, unsmiling and firm as she tells him, "I accept."

.

.

It paints a target on her back, as conspicuous as black tar on white snow as she spins and twirls in Yhwach's arm. Rukia can feel a thousand pair of dagger-like stares digging painfully into her back. Dancing couples around them take to the dance floor for no other reason than to sneak glances at her from the corner of their eyes, while simpering guests titter; sharp eyes observing her every move from behind their champagne flutes.

Ichigo's gaze in particular makes her squirm. When she turns, she sees his tightly-pressed lips and knotted eyebrows, bundled fists shaking with barely-contained unease. The spark of golden amber burns her as his eyes trail after her dancing figure. She can feel the hum of his reiryouku, louder and more urgent than before as it slides against her own.

Yhwach is unperturbed even when he notices her being distracted. She steps on his foot twice- staunchly refusing to apologize each time. Yhwach feigns nonchalance in turn, his smirk ever-present and never faltering. On her third offence, he clears his throat, breaking the silence between them.

"I see that the clothes do maketh the man. Are you settling well into Silbern, Shinigami?"

"Well enough. Thank you."

"I hope you are not living under the illusion of being rescued from here. Silbern is a fortress and impenetrable by all accounts, even if your brother is a Captain."

"You are mistaken," Rukia says coolly. She refuses to react to Yhwach, to show her surprise. The Wandenreich Empire has eyes and ears everywhere. They have existed thus long in the shadows- unseen and unheard, bidding their time and striking only when victory is certain. Judging by how quickly Seireitei and her defences have fallen, Rukia wouldn't be surprised if the Empire has spent all that time spying on the world beneath them, gathering intelligence on Seireitei and her weaknesses, the power attributes and fighting abilities of note-worthy seated Shinigamis officers and distinguished members of nobility. She is a nobody but they can easily find out about her- Kuchiki Rukia, unseated member of the Thirteenth Division, ex-street orphan, adopted sister of Captain Kuchiki Byakuya of the Sixth Division. That is no secret and changes nothing.

In hindsight, perhaps it was a good thing that she lost her badge. She hasn't seen it or the remnants of her Shinigami shihakusho since Ichigo stripped them off her. Maybe he had just thrown everything away without noticing the badge, eager to be rid of the mark of a Shinigami in his apartment. It is probably the best possible outcome for her. It meant that her identity as a Vice-captain is still her secret to keep.

Rukia keeps her mask of indifference, appearing unruffled. "Nii-sama is too rational to mount an attack on Silbern for my sake. And I may be a woman but I am a Shinigami first. I do not need others to fight my battles for me."

Yhwach stills. He suddenly throws his head back, roaring in laughter, once again drawing everyone's attention to them. Dancers stop mid-pivot even as the music is still playing in the background. The guests in the ballroom are barely able to contain their interest and excitement at the recent developments as they stare unabashedly at the pair.

"You amuse me, Shinigami. I can see now why Ichigo is so taken with you. Very well," he barks, sweeping his gaze over the guests in the ballroom, "I bestow upon this Shinigami the worthy title as a Companion for our Crown Prince."

Yhwach continues even amidst loud gasps of surprise and looks of astonishment from the crowd.

"Even a bed warmer should receive her dues when she performs her job nobly. However—" a cruel smirk curls on his lips. Rukia can feel her senses recoiling in disgust and fear. She drops her hand from his shoulder, snatching them away as if she has been holding onto burning coals for too long, putting distance between them.

"I must staunchly refuse your offer. Your commitment in staying alive is … commendable. But I have no interest in bedding you. You are too forward and I have no interest in anyone's sloppy seconds."

Rukia burns from rage and embarrassment at the false accusations. Her fists clench at her sides.

She would never! It goes against everything that she is!

That monster is a tyrant and a liar!

She would rather die than sleep with a monster like Yhwach! Just the thought of it is enough to make her sick.

"You—"

It is useless. And judging by the smarmy grin that curls on Yhwach's lips, he knows it all too well how futile her efforts would be. Her words and denials are being drowned out by sussurant whispers and mocking insults with thinly veiled looks of disgust.

No one believes her at all. The Quincy gathered chide and mock. The All Father has no reason to lie, so what He says must be true. The Shinigami is crafty and obviously has plans to seduce the All Father from the very beginning.

Poor Ichigo- a cuckold in the making to be sure!

What did he expect?

She is a Shinigami. They are not to be trusted to begin with. She is power-hungry and obviously desperate to survive. She knows no loyalty. Selling her body to the highest bidder to ensure her own survival is only to be expected.

But to think that she would go so far as to proposition the All Father in front of everyone? The Quincy have their pride but this filth obviously knows no shame!

.

Rukia can feel the room spinning as the whispers grow louder. She whirls to seek out a friendly pair of eyes in the room, to find Masaki, Ichigo or even Ichigo's cousin. She needs someone to believe her, but everywhere she turns she sees only snickers, people pointing their fingers at her as they jeer and scoff.

Hot tears burn in her eyes but she valiantly keeps her eyes wide open. The sting and the burn of her humiliation will only be aggravated by the knowledge that her tormentors have seen her break. She can't give them that satisfaction, so she chooses instead to clench her fists and bite down on the inside of her cheeks so hard that she tastes blood.

No one is coming to her defence. Rukia is strong enough to stand on her own without support, but the knowledge still stings.

"Ichigo," Yhwach calls out, ignoring her sharp glares and scowl, "you might want to keep your pet somewhat leashed. Are you not satisfying her needs well enough that she has to resort to sniffing after other men? You will teach her better, won't you?"

.

Ichigo!

.

Rukia's eyes flit to his unbidden, hoping for some laughable measure of reassurance. Yet, she seems destined for disappointment.

Yhwach may have plunged the knife into her gut, but Ichigo's refusal to meet her gaze- his silence is by far the worst. It is the hand that twists the knife in deeper. The man's expression is inscrutable. He is silent and mute, keeping his eyes downcast. Rukia is nervous with how his reiryouku suddenly feels so cold and restrained, almost as if he's trying to keep himself in check.

Her heart leaps to her throat and her hands are clammy with sweat as he makes his way towards her. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoes like thunder across the marble floor and she can hardly breathe.

The party guests have their eyes fixed on her and Ichigo, waiting to see what would happen next. Rukia knows that mocking and gleeful look on their faces well. The spiteful gleam in their eyes and the cruel twist of their lips say it all. These people are nothing but sharks; a pack of wolves pretending to be something or someone of a holier calling. They sense her weakness, the tenseness in the air- tell-tale signs of an explosive encounter and they bid their time in the shadows, licking their chops, eager to dive in for the kill as soon as the first drop of blood is spilt.

She is the prey- the lone sheep in a wolf's den and they can hardly wait to sink their claws into her.

Rukia turns, swallowing thickly as she forces herself to stand her ground. She clenches her fists tightly, reminding herself that she is not alone; remembering what Shirayuki has told her and the intimate way her reiryouku had twined against Ichigo's in the underground prison. The memory of it- the feel and pulse of his strange starfire-blue glow within her grounds him and strengthens her resolve.

She needs to trust Ichigo. Even when his silence cuts her badly, and her stomach is in twists and knots at the thought that he can't even bring himself to meet her gaze anymore because he finds her so utterly despicable; she still chooses to believe- to trust.

Call it a leap of faith or perhaps the dawn of madness, of her spiralling into an abyss of her own doing, but Ichigo has never given her a reason to doubt his motives. He is sly, devious even, but he has never disguised his intentions towards her.

He—

A hand wraps itself around her wrist, disrupting her rambling thoughts. The heat and warmth of his touch thaws her and violet eyes snap to attention as she focuses the weight of her stare onto Ichigo.

Rukia swallows, wringing her hands. Her voice is on the verge of breaking, but she tries to keep her tone even, to keep her cool.

"You have to believe me! I didn't- I would never—"

"I believe you, Rukia."

.

Ichigo's voice cuts through the shroud of fiendish taunts and jeers. The curl of his reiatsu- dark, smouldering and powerful settles her.

He tugs at her hand, pulling her into his arms so she can hide her face against his chest. Rukia is anything but weak, yet in this moment she allows herself to be tugged and pulled, to be shielded by Ichigo. His voice is gruff as he whispers.

"Save your tears. They're not worth it. I am the only one who matters and I know that you would never do something like that."

His support- the open admission of trust makes her dizzy with relief. Rukia fists at his clothes, burrowing her face into his dark coat, smudging makeup on it while her silent tears remain unshed and burning in her eyes. She has had enough of this place.

"Take me home, Ichigo!"

All this glitter and opulence- the crystal chandeliers and gold-gilded marble pillars do nothing to hide the sycophantic nature of the guests in attendance. The vile nature of snakes is inherent no matter their surroundings and the fineries they drape upon themselves. Rukia is more than disgusted by the turn of events. Right now, she can't even bear to look at her pretty dress and the priceless necklace that Ichigo looped around her neck feels like a noose- choking and tight, serving as bitter reminders of the humiliation that she has suffered.

.

"Please."

.

Ichigo's expression is grim. He hears the pain in her voice and the knowledge that he has indirectly played a part in it wounds him. He keeps his arms wrapped protectively along her waist, resting on the small of her back. Never again, he vows. He won't let this happen ever again. He glares fiercely at the sniggering guests. He stares them down, committing each of their cruel faces to memory.

Rukia is his- his to protect, his to cherish. To think that these people believe themselves to be better than her, believe that they have the right to ridicule and taunt her, to ignore his warnings!

His grip on her tightens. There will be hell to pay.

They need to be reminded that Rukia is his and under his protection. It would take a whole lot more than snide looks and petty accusations to make him abandon her. He will show them just how superior they are in the grand scheme of things. He can crush them like the ants beneath his feet and this time, he does not feel like holding back.

Actions have always spoken louder than words and Ichigo is brutally efficient in getting his point across.

His reiatsu flares in warning and the nervous shuffling of feet and noisy breathing follows. The simpering audience find themselves writhing and trembling as a heavy weight drops on them. The wrath Ichigo unleashes in response to Rukia's distress- the sudden overwhelming surge of his reiatsu cripples most of the people in the ballroom, bringing them to their knees, gasping for air.

There is a loud and heavy groan as hairline cracks appear on the pillars and marble flooring. Fissures in the wall begin to show as the building strains to uphold itself up against the heavy press of Ichigo's reiatsu. The crystals in the chandelier chime and shatter, bright lights flickering amidst alarmed shrieks as the building shakes and tilts. The ceiling of the ballroom seems to be in danger of collapsing on top of them, crushing them flat as the cracks climb and dot the al fresco artwork. The painted figure of the All Father whose benevolent smile beams as He watches them from above splinters, his teeth missing as white mosaic falls and crashes against the marble floor.

The quivering masses look to the tall and imposing figure of their prince. Fear and helplessness- the look in their eyes says it all as they are reminded of the extent of the terrifying power that he wields. Those who have had the misfortune of standing close to Ichigo gulp, trying their best to crawl away in an effort to put some distance between them.

In their arrogance and eagerness to curry favours with the All Father, they forget: Kurosaki Ichigo is not like them.

He is a monster and he answers only to the All Father. Rules are nothing more than guidelines and most definitely do not apply to him. He is merciless and with a snap of his fingers, he bends them to his will. He spares them a dispassionate glance, the vicious gleam in his eyes flashing smug and taunting to those who are brave and stupid enough to meet his eyes as if to say: I warned you.

A Crown Prince anointed by the All Father is by no means a wolf declawed or unfanged. Just because the All Father jeers and teases, it doesn't mean that they are in a position to do the same.

All men are not created equal.

.

In the aftermath, there are only a handful of people left standing in the ballroom. Among the Schutzstaffel, Uryu stands the furthest away from Ichigo. Light is reflected off his spectacles as he half-kneels, his arm draped protectively over Masaki's shoulders to steady her. He glares at his flame-haired cousin whose expression softens briefly and is almost apologetic before he turns his attention to the remaining members. Lille never bothered showing up- still recovering from his injuries. Askin is nowhere to be seen, probably among some of the kneeling guests if Ichigo were to hazard a guess.

Pernida and Gerard however stand their ground, unaffected by the painful gasps coming from the people around them. Ichigo eyes them both stoically and they return his stare. He knows he crossed a line today if Gerard's grimace was any indication at all but then again, they have never been allies or comrades in the strictest sense of the word.

For Rukia, he would do it all over again. He picks her over them and it is a conscious decision that he would make through and through, time and time again.

Finally, Ichigo turns his attention to the still smiling Yhwach standing in front of him. The All Father keeps his hands clasped behind his back with an almost jocular expression. Jugram as his right-hand man stands dutifully next to his master. His stance is unsteady and his effort in remaining upright shows with the light sheen of sweat dotting his temples. Despite his buckling knees and gritted teeth, the blonde does not hold back from the heated glare he throws at Ichigo.

Ichigo smirks in response, openly ignoring Jugram's glares before dipping into a short bow towards Yhwach.

"We shall be taking our leave then. Good night, All Father."

Without waiting for Yhwach's reply, Ichigo sweeps Rukia into his arms. Rukia yelps, more from the surprise at the suddenness of his action than an actual protest. Eventually she relaxes, going almost limp in his arms while her arms loop themselves around his neck for support, her face burrowed into the crook of his shoulder. His grip on her tightens; keeping her tiny figure cradled to his chest.

His stride is powerful as he crosses the room and makes his way up the stairs. He doesn't bother sparing anyone a further glance as he makes his exit, away from the ruins.

No one makes a move to stop them. If anything, the incapacitated guests shrink away at the sight of his approach. Frightened eyes look to the All Father for cues but the man is silent and calm, seemingly taking no offence at the damage rendered to the ballroom and his guests.

Under their gaze, Ichigo keeps his head up high and his steps unhurried, holding Rukia tightly in his arms. The double doors slam shut behind them with a loud bang, forcefully snapping the doors off their hinges.

.

Jugram inhales sharply, taking gulps of air to fill his lungs as the weight on his chest is lifted. He is among the first few to recover as the shaking comes to a stop. He scowls as he glances at the wreckage caused. The mosaic tiles and golden gildings are chipped and crushed into a fine layer of gold powder and ceramic dust while the numerous cracks and fissures on the marble slabs render them unsalvageable. The crystal chandelier is teetering, leaning heavily on one side. It is a hairsbreadth away from crashing down on them and immediate evacuation is needed for the safety of everyone in the room.

Jugram can feel a headache brewing. The ballroom is for all intents and purposes, destroyed and the party effectively ruined. Eying the groaning guests who are gingerly picking themselves up, Jugram grits his teeth, cursing inwardly at the day that half-blood mongrel made his way into Silbern with his mother and cousin. They should have never opened the doors to them.

Ichigo is an anomaly. His presence is a constant thorn at his side. The brat has never shown respect or behaved in a manner that is befitting of his privileged position and now this— the sheer disrespect! He may as well have slapped the All Father in the face. And after all that they have done for him, to think that he would one day pick a worthless pet over his masters!

"All Father, Ichigo- that thing—"

Yhwach holds out his hand and Jugram bites his tongue in haste, stifling the torrent of angry words he barely refrains himself from spluttering. The expression on Yhwach is one of thoughtfulness and wry amusement, but Jugram knows his master well. He doesn't miss the tightening of the man's fists and comforts himself with the knowledge that the All Father's patience is wearing thin.

Crown Prince or not, one of these days Kurosaki Ichigo is going to get his comeuppance and Jugram can hardly wait.

.

.

.

Neither of them says a word to each other during their journey through the long winding empty corridors. Ichigo's grip on her never loosened. His presence comforts her and she must have fallen asleep at some point, lulled by the familiar scent and thrum of his constant heartbeat.

"Wake up, Rukia—" his gentle nuzzle on her cheeks causes her to stir— "we're home."

The sudden brightness hurts her eyes as the lights flicker on in Ichigo's apartment. She blinks owlishly at her surroundings, waiting for her vision to adjust to the new lighting. The door clinks shut behind them as Ichigo carries her into the bathroom.

Once inside, he sets her on the counter top, removing her stilettos first and setting them aside before grabbing a white terry cloth and putting it under hot water. Wringing out the excess water, he tends to her in silence as he removes the traces of the evening on her, using the cloth to delicately wipe her makeup away.

Rukia whimpers at the press of the cloth against her skin and he leans in closer, kissing her eyelids softly. His touch is gentle as he removes her necklace and earrings and she offers no resistance. With a slight tug, he removes the hairpins keeping her hair in place and black hair tumbles, their ends curled as they fall just below her shoulders.

Ichigo purses his lips, planting a kiss by the corner of her lips, coaxing at Rukia to look at him. She hesitates, unable to meet his gaze. She just can't do it. The memory of her hurt is still fresh on her mind and though she knows that Ichigo is on her side, that he is not to be blamed for what Yhwach said or did to her; it is hard to not blame her suffering and hurt on him. None of this would have happened if he didn't capture her and decided to take her home with him.

Ichigo sighs, touching their foreheads together but he doesn't force the issue. It hurts to see her like this- quiet and passive, feeling small and dejected. It hurts more to know that all it took was just one move from Yhwach to send them back to square one, back to their roles as captor and captive; undoing all the work he and his mother had done to bring Rukia out of her shell.

He wants Rukia to trust him, to adjust to life with him in Silbern, yet how can he when every single interaction she has with everyone else besides him and Masaki exists only to highlight the fact that her presence isn't welcomed here?

"I know you're hurt and humiliated. But to me, you were the most beautiful woman in the ballroom tonight. I am sorry that it ended this way."

He presses more kisses to her- first to the bridge of her nose, then lower to the tip of it; marvelling at the softness of her apple cheeks as his lips brush chastely against them. There is still only silence from her end. Ichigo takes it in stride, tucking the stray bang behind her ear before whispering.

"Do you want to freshen up before bedtime?"

She nods.

"Let me help you with the dress," he says, turning his attention to the zipper located discretely by the side. A brief sharp hiss is heard as the pull slides down the teeth of the zipper. Ichigo inhales sharply at the gradual reveal of naked skin as the dress slips off and pools to the floor in a heap.

He swallows thickly at the sight, suddenly speechless. The low-cut bodice meant that she isn't wearing a bra under her dress. Goosebumps prickle across her skin and her mulberry-hued nipples stiffen from the sudden drop in temperature. Her breasts are the perfect handfuls for him and he hisses, remembering the feel of them under his touch. Her pale flesh is tender and she has always been sensitive, always so responsive to his touches. Under the soft glow of the candle lights, her naked skin- from the jut of her collar bone to her flat stomach is unnaturally inviting, enticing him to clamp down and mark it with bruises and bites.

His eyes trail lower, unable to look away. Her lacy panties are in a shade of violet that is almost as dark as the colour of her eyes. They contrast sharply against the paleness of her skin, making apparent the slenderness of her waist and her petite figure. She looks so vulnerable and needy for him, standing in her delicates with her beautiful dark eyes searing into his.

He clears his throat loudly, bending down to pick up the fallen dress, forcefully wrenching his gaze away. Rukia has been through enough for the night. He clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white from the effort as he reminds himself that he needs to be patient and give her space. He turns, forcing himself towards the exit.

"Where are you going?"

His hand on the doorknob stills. His inhale is sharp as he turns around to face her.

"I-I thought that you would like some time alone."

"W-What if I want you to stay?"

As he turns around to face her, Rukia's cheeks colour. The sudden blush is unmistakable even under the dim lighting. Her gaze is fixed on the floor tiles, finding its pattern to be more interesting than anything else at the moment, studiously avoiding making eye contact with him.

Ichigo arches an eyebrow, swallowing thickly. He clears his throat loudly, trying to not let his surprise show.

"Then I'll stay. But are you sure?"

Rukia gulps. She can feel her heart hammering against her chest under the weight of his heavy-lidded stare. It is not in her intention to appear weak and the last thing she wants is for this to turn into a heavy petting session between them when she has been trying so hard to convince him to treat her as a person; to respect her decisions and her wants.

She can't make sense of her emotions and she almost hates herself for it- for her constant deliberation between keeping him close and pushing him away. Rationally she should want nothing to do with him. Everything between them is clearly lined in black and white. He is the enemy, might have even been responsible for the murder of Yamamoto-Soutaichou. She wouldn't be in this predicament if he hadn't thoughtlessly taken her back to Silbern with him.

Yet, she can't bring herself to hate him. Even after the humiliation she suffered at the hands of Yhwach, the death of her comrades at the hands of his people, she still wants. She still wants to be held, to feel the touch and warmth of Ichigo. Somewhere along the line, the lines between captor and protector began to blur and shades of grey began to set in, colouring over areas and issues where she used to take such a clear stance on.

Behind enemy lines, Ichigo is the only person she can trust, and now his reiryouku blends against hers so seamlessly as though she has always known him, not as a captor or an enemy, but as a friend, maybe even more. She just wants to be comforted by Ichigo, to chase away the unpleasant memories with his touch. She just wants to forget.

Is that so wrong?

"I-I don't want this to be something sexual. Not like what happened last time, but I want- I want—"

"You want to be taken care of."

"Y-Yes."

Her eyes flit to his. Her mouth goes dry at the look he gives her, making her knees weak. Heat flares, pooling between her legs. He closes the distance between them in a single stride and Rukia can feel her heart thundering embarrassingly loud as he draws her close to press more kisses to her.

"Then let me take care of you," he husks, his fingers reaching to cup at her ass but she squirms, batting his hand away hastily.

"T-Turn around," she says, her voice sounding shakier than what she would like, "I can do it myself."

With a lingering kiss, Ichigo shuffles away, turning to face the wall while she tugs her panties down, shimmying them over her ankles before leaving the lacy underwear next to her dress.

"You can look now," she calls out as she climbs into the bath tub naked. Her hand reaches for the shower head, twisting the faucet on for hot water.

The sound of running water echoes in the tiny space. Blood rushes in Ichigo's ears as his gaze sharpens and the hungry gleam in his eyes becomes more pronounced than ever, shifting between golden amber and something more feral. He licks his dry lips, starving for her and her touch, the silkiness of her body pressed to his.

His dinner jacket is the first to come off. Ichigo strips himself, taking his time to undo the row of buttons down the front of his button-up and taking extra care to flex his muscles as he shucks it off. His movement is purposeful and languid as he rolls his hips, sliding his trousers down.

The attraction between them is sizzling. The air between them is humid and heavy with want. Rukia is a terrible liar. Even when she insists on keeping things non-sexual, her dilated pupils and tightly pressed lips give her away. She is just as enthralled by him, just as hopelessly infatuated. Ichigo knows that it is only a matter of time. There is no escaping the inevitable and Rukia is his.

He smirks at her, rolling down his underwear teasingly slow until it joins the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. He can feel Rukia's eyes on him, her blush darkening and he makes it a personal mission to make her gulp and swallow, to hear the hitch in her breath as she chews at her bottom lip- hot and bothered by the sight of him, standing in the nude and unabashedly thirsting for her.

This is where it all starts: the two of them naked in the bathroom, weary bodies and even wearier hearts, maimed and carved with battle scars to many to count- back to the beginning, so very different and yet familiar all at once.

Ichigo climbs into the bath tub after her, setting her between his legs- her back to his front. He gently pries the detached shower head from her hands before leaning in to lick at the shell of her ear.

"This time- we'll do things your way—" his hand reaches out to twist at the faucets, adjusting the temperature and testing it against the back of his hand—"Tell me if this is too hot, okay?"

Water drenches her from above, soaking her to the bones and her toes curl at the feel of it. Ichigo's hand feels warm against her wet skin as he snakes it around her waist, keeping her in place. Rukia can only shut her eyes and moan as hot water slides down her back; soothing her while Ichigo rubs lazy circles onto her skin. Her pulse jumps erratic and jaunty when she feels him leaning in closer, his warm breath fanning her cheeks, sneaking kisses down her neck.

"Y-You promised," Rukia warns. Even with her eyes shut, she thinks she can hear Ichigo's pout as he straightens, reluctantly peeling himself away.

"Just trying to get you to relax. You're too tense," Ichigo grumbles. He sighs, turning his head to brush his nose lightly against hers. "Just trust me. Let me take care of you, Rukia."

He does not give her the time to respond as he reaches for the scented shampoo by the edge of the tub. He squeezes out a generous amount of the shampoo, massaging it into her thick hair. The soapy lather is citrusy and refreshing, calming to her senses. Ichigo takes care not to let the suds get into her eyes. Rukia can't help but lean into his touch as his fingers lightly scratch at her scalp. He slides his fingers through her hair, teasing out knots and tangles. His touch is unbearably patient and gentle as he washes the shampoo off.

Ichigo is methodical in his process. With her hair done and rinsed clean of shampoo suds, he moves on to tend to her body. The shower gel that he rubs over her smells like sea salt with something minty in the mix. It smells so distinctively of him, like he is surrounding her with his warmth, cocooning her from all the unpleasant things in this world. As Ichigo rubs soap over her body, determined to leave no flesh untouched or uncleaned, a part of Rukia finally settles, her anxiety bleeding away under his careful touches. Ichigo is here, making good on his promise. He takes his time with his task, making sure to wash behind her ears and between the webs of her delicate toes. He spreads her thighs apart but his fingers never venture past her inner thighs, never dipping past the boundaries she set.

He takes such good care of her.

Rukia keeps her eyes tightly shut, unwilling to let herself repeat her past mistakes. If she turns around now, if she glimpses even just once at Ichigo's face- she gulps; she isn't sure she will have the fortitude and will to keep her word, to keep things strictly non-sexual between them.

She realizes with a start that she doesn't want this bath session to end, so it comes as a little of a relief and annoyance as Ichigo makes the decision for her, twisting the faucet shut and ending things before their skins turn pruney. Her skin is flushed from the hot bath and her mind buzzes, traitorously tempting her with the way things could have gone. She only needed to say yes and Ichigo would have taken care of everything.

Is there a point to her struggling when everything she does seems to lead her back to this- to only lead her back, in bonds tighter and stronger than ever to Ichigo?

Is he truly the enemy here?

Her head hurts. Rukia does not know what to think any more and simply lets Ichigo take the lead as he cages her in, setting her on his lap. He towels her hair dry for her, kissing at the rivulets of water sliding down her face. If they taste saltier than normal water, Ichigo keeps the knowledge to himself- head down, lips tightly pressed into a thin line as he keeps on his task until Rukia gives an involuntary shiver from the cold.

"Wait here," says Ichigo as he steps out of the tub, pressing lingering kisses to her dry cheeks before leaving, "I'll go grab your clothes."

He comes back to her, dressed in his usual lounge wear. He has one of her night dresses and clean underwear for her in his hands. He wordlessly helps her into it, turning around to give her some privacy when she insists on putting on her underwear herself. The dress is pale blue and soft against her skin, falling just slightly above her knees.

Rukia takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Now, she feels more like herself again- in control and at ease. Ichigo's hand curves at her waist, easily lifting her into his arms and out of the tub. The cotton shirt he has on is well-worn and clean-smelling. He is warm and his heartbeat thumps reassuringly as she lays her head on his chest. She burrows herself deep into the embrace, greedily inhaling his scent, relishing in the warmth of his body next to hers again.

"Let's get you into bed."

.

In the dark, sleep evades her. Despite her best attempts, her buzzing mind does not settle and she has long since given up on trying. Next to her, Ichigo's large body radiates heat. He moulds himself to her, tucking her under his chin and wrapping his arms around her like she is his favourite toy and most prized possession. His breathing is even and his eyes are shut.

Rukia sighs, turning to her side. Behind Ichigo, a sliver of moonlight comes through from behind the blinds and that is the light that she uses to trail her gaze over his features while he sleeps. She is not quite bold enough to touch his face, opting instead to busy herself by tracing stupid patterns over and over again at the front of his chest. When her touches grow bolder, her finger brushing on the edges of his collar bone, she feels a light squeeze around her waist.

She lifts her head up to see Ichigo's dark eyes staring at her intently. He catches her wandering hand, wrapping his hand tight around her wrist to still her movements.

"You need to stop doing that," he says, his face dipping low to brush his lips against hers, "You can't keep teasing me like this. What do you want me to do, Rukia? Make up your mind, little Shinigami. I swear if you want to start something right now, I won't let you leave this bed until I've made you come so many times that you can't even walk straight."

Ichigo huffs, his hot breath fanning her cheeks. "I promised you that I won't do anything that you don't want me to do, so I'll wait for you to make the first move. But that doesn't mean that you—" he brushes his thumb across her lips— "get to tease me like this."

Rukia's cheeks colour in shame. It is not her intention to toy with him. Ichigo has always been open with her. He is at the very least, honest about his intents and his feelings. And she knows. Deep down inside, she feels it too- the bond between them, the way their reiryouku have twined and blended so harmoniously since that day in the underground laboratory. Their meeting with the Arrancar has only reaffirmed what Shirayuki has been telling her since their reunion.

Her breath hitches as she gulps, making up her mind. There is no use in prolonging the torture, the agony of straining on tiptoes; agonizing over what is right and what is wrong, of who the enemy is. Some things are more important than that.

Ichigo and her- they are connected. He is hers and she, his. She gives in to the hunger, the primal need for more and prays to a higher power that the fall won't kill her.

Rukia initiates it first. She slants her lips at his, brushing chastely at them but that is all the invitation that Ichigo needs. His face dips low, his grip on her tightening. His hands are suddenly restless as they squeeze at her, kneading at her soft flesh and cupping at her ass. He coaxes her to open her mouth for him as the kiss deepens.

Her mind blanks. Her reaction to his kisses is as instinctive as it is primal as she wraps her legs around his waist to bring him closer to her. She gasps, feeling his mouth hot on her skin, planting kisses and licking at her feverish skin like a touch-starved man. There is nothing beyond the heat of Ichigo's palm as it slips under her soft dress, trailing upwards to grope at her breasts. His fingers tweak at her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumb and index finger until they pebble. Their eyes meet and Rukia feels her face burning from the hungry gleam in his eyes.

She gulps. Desire pools readily between her legs and the ache becomes throbbing. It is too hot for her to have her clothes on and Ichigo seems to think the same as he bunches up the ends of the dress, pushing it over the swell of her humble breasts for better access.

Her flesh is tender and so achingly sensitive that she can't help but cry out when his mouth latches on to her nipples. Warm heat envelops her straining nipples as Ichigo suckles, sharp teeth occasionally scraping at the tips. His tongue rolls, swirling at them and she can only squirm in response as he alternates between her breasts, fingers and mouth working in tandem, unable to settle on a favourite.

His mouth releases her hardened nipple with a loud 'plop!'. A thin trail of saliva still connects them and Rukia mewls at the sudden loss of heat. Ichigo leans in to nip lightly at the reddened flesh by the side of her neck, feeling her back arch at the sudden bite. She hisses in response so he soothes the sting of the bite the only way he knows how- licking and lapping at it until she settles again. He smirks at the trail of love bites that he leaves scattered across her chest. He wants to touch her everywhere, to sear and brand her with his kisses and bites so that everyone will know that she belongs to him. She is untouchable and if anyone so much as lays a finger on her, he will know. He will make them pay.

His name is on her lips, repeated like a mantra and it spurs him on. He pushes her back onto the mattress, draping himself over her before diving in for more. Pushing the tiny cloth of silk aside, his finger suddenly dips low into her wet heat and Rukia cries out in need. She whimpers at the sudden intrusion but her hips buck instinctively, coating his fingers with her slick.

"You are so wet for me," Ichigo purrs. He exhales loudly, his cock hardening at the thought of burying himself deep inside of her. His mind hazes, drowning in his conjured fantasies while hitching another finger- deeper and higher inside of her, making her toes curl.

"I'll take such good care of you, Rukia."

He crooks his fingers inside of her, pumping in and out of her while his thumb circles her clit. Ichigo watches as her eyes darken with lust under the low lights. He presses and rubs at her spot teasingly and all she can do is hitch her legs higher, spreading herself wider for him so he can slot his digits deeper inside of her. Her juices gush helplessly and she has to bite down on the heel of her palm to swallow her moans.

She makes a noise barely recognizable as hers when he suddenly leans away. Her thighs clamp down on his hand, desperate for him to stay when he withdraws his touch.

Ichigo chuckles dark and throaty at the sight of his glistening fingers. Under him, Rukia's eyes gleam, her chest heaving with red puckered marks dotting her skin. He grins, unrepentant and unabashed. Feeling her eyes on him, he eagerly brings his stained fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. There is a sense of perverse amusement that stirs within him as he watches her clenching her teeth, rubbing her thighs together in hopes to relieve the ache as her eyes sear into his beseechingly, lower lip trembling with need.

She is so close.

"Are you mine, Rukia?" he teases, hovering over her as his gaze trails lower, a finger curling at the waistband of her panties. Rukia is so needy for him and her panties are thoroughly soaked just from the touch and press of his fingers.

"Y-Yes."

Ichigo smirks, deftly rolling them down her ankles and tossing them away.

Rukia gulps and watches in stunned silence as Ichigo lowers himself on her, pressing kisses to her stomach and then lower as his warm breath hovers over the top of her wispy midnight curls. She raises herself shakily on her elbows, her fists clenching at the bed sheets as he kisses the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He makes himself at home between her legs, his fingers gripping tight at her thighs, spreading them wide open. He licks his lips, eying her puffy lips, glistening with her slick.

"You taste so good, Rukia. I need more."

That is all the warning she gets before his head dips low, eating her out like he has been starving for days.

"Ahhh!"

He laps at her, his tongue eagerly pressing at her throbbing clit. The hitch in her breath is unmistakable. Rukia clamps her teeth down on the bunched dress that has been pushed up to her chest as Ichigo sucks on her clit. She is at his mercy as he tends to her, holding her down tight when she tries to jerk away, his dark eyes promising to make her feel so good that she'll beg him to do it again and again.

He takes his time with her, tracing the letters of her name out with his tongue on her clit and by then, Rukia has long since lost any resemblance of shame, embarrassingly loud and incoherent with her moans when he hits her spot just right. Her hand grabs at his hair, tugging sharp and making him hiss but it somehow excites him more. Pleasure and pain in equal measures and he gives as good as he gets, pressing the flat of his tongue fuller against hers.

Her eyelids flutter, her jaw going slack as the full force of her orgasm sweeps over her. Her body quivers and trembles but Ichigo doesn't let up. He keeps his head buried between her legs, sucking and lapping at her through her orgasm. The high thrums through her, drowning her world in white as she comes hard.

.

"Ichi-Go!"

.

Colour stains her cheek and she breathes hard through her mouth when she comes to.

She turns to Ichigo, blinking owlishly as she tries to sit up. His lips are red and stained with her slick. There are wet spots on the bed made from her release. She ducks her head, embarrassed at the mess that she has created, but Ichigo's fingers tap at her chin, easily tilting it upwards. He crushes his lips to hers, slipping his tongue past her teeth to twine and curl at hers. She tastes a little of herself on him and her skin flushes into an even darker shade of red.

"Fuck, Rukia," he groans, sucking at her lower lip and nipping lightly at it when he ends the kiss. He plays with the ends of her hair, planting kisses down her throat as he holds her sweaty body close. He doesn't want anyone else to see her like this. Her eyes are still hazy with lust and her mouth swollen from his kisses. There is a trail of fluid trickling down her thighs and he grins at the thought of his own spent joining hers, sticky fluids over-spilling from her.

"You are so beautiful," he tells her with a hint of awe to his voice. His Rukia is naked and unguarded in his arms, so achingly raw with the evidence of her release staining the bed and the mark of his love dotting her skin. His clothed erection slides hot and needy against her bare skin, making her gasp.

Emboldened by the rush of euphoria still coursing through her veins, Rukia places both hands firmly on the ends of her bunched dress, shrugging it off her and letting it drop carelessly on to the bedroom floor. She finally finds her voice. There is a dangerous come-hither edge to it as she climbs over Ichigo's lap, pressing her naked breasts to his front, while tugging at the ends of his shirt.

She hears the unmistakable hitch in his breath as she sidles close, watching how his Adam's apple bobs at her approach. She lets the curl of satisfaction grow within her, her lips hovering close to his as she huffs, her hot breath fanning his cheeks.

"I think you have too many clothes on."

Ichigo's reaction to her forwardness is sudden and visceral. He bucks his hips at her, hissing through clenched teeth as she grinds her bare sex against him. His eyes are the colour of liquid gold and molten, burning with his need for her. He arches his eyebrow, a roguish smirk tugging at his lips as he hums, "Why don't you help me out of them?"

His shirt and dark trousers eagerly join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. For a moment, they do nothing but stare, drinking in the sight of each other's naked body- raw, wild and exalted in the low lights. Rukia's inky black hair is drenched with sweat and plastered to her skin. There is a curious shine to her eyes as her gaze falls to the stiffening cock between his legs. It feels like he is burning where their skin meet, as hot skin slides naked against each other. He is burning and Rukia is both his salvation and damnation. Her wet heat is the only place where he wants to drown himself in.

He gulps as her hand clenches on his knee, mouth hopelessly dry and body thrumming with restless need as Rukia slides her body lower between his legs. The head is bright red and leaking with precum at the tip. He thinks he can feel a little of her trepidation as she reaches out for him. Her fist closes around it but only just barely. The size difference between them is stark and obvious.

"R-Rukia—"

Ichigo hisses, cursing softly as she wraps her hand around the shaft, pumping it. He is painfully hard and the softness of Rukia's palm is torture on the sensitive member. His cock jumps at her touch; eager to show her just how much he wants to please her.

Ichigo groans, using every ounce of willpower within him to wrench Rukia's hand away from his cock as he tugs her back to sit on his lap. With a low growl, he distracts her with his kisses, sucking and nipping at the red skin by her throat.

Rukia frowns in confusion.

"Don't you want to—"

"Next time," he tells her, cutting her off with more kisses before pushing her back against the mattress, caging her in. "First I need to make good on my promise. I told you. I won't let you leave this bed until I've made you come so many times that you can't even walk straight."

Rukia gulps, growing wet again from the look that he gives her. Her skin will have bruises in the morning in the shape of his hand and rings of teeth mark that riddle her skin raw and unsightly. All this she knows but she doesn't mind. She can't help but be pliable as he arranges her legs to wrap themselves around him. His clever fingers crook and slip inside of her heat, testing out her readiness. His husky voice is deliciousand tempting as he whispers into her ears.

"I hope you're ready—" his fingers circle her clit, rubbing it and making her gasp while the other hand palms himself, thumbing the slit before coating his cock in her slick— "I am not stopping until we're both spent and tired. You are mine, Rukia."

He pushes himself inside of her. He stiffens when he notices her wince but her pussy fits so snug and tight. He growls, pushing her hair over her shoulder and resting his face in the crook instead. He hides his face, groaning loud as her insides clench at him, determined to draw him into her heat until he bottoms out.

Rukia squirms, whimpering at the sudden intrusion. Ichigo is so big and full inside of her. She is stretched out and so impossibly stuffed, but still she wants more. She still wants more from Ichigo and he promised her more. She half turns, seeing her carnal desires reflected in his eyes. She is a woman unhinged, enslaved to her desire for him and decidedly feral.

She feels powerful- wicked and sensual like a primordial goddess, raised to feast on the offering of virgin flesh freely given. Ichigo is there to be used for her pleasure and she wants nothing more than to make sure he loses control as well. She raises her hips weakly, prompting him to hiss and his blunt nails dig into the flesh of her ass, breaking skin.

"M-Move," she tells him. Ichigo says nothing but instead his hand cups at her cheek. He leans in to kiss away the tears gathering at her lashes. She repeats herself, her own nails pressing hard into his biceps to get his attention. She worries that maybe he hadn't heard her the first time.

"Ichi—AHHH!"

Rukia throws her head back, eyes rolling to the back of her head at the sudden deep thrust inside of her throbbing pussy.

"So impatient," he growls. She should have known. That was the only split second of gentleness that Ichigo gifts, allowing her time to adjust to his size before his instincts take over and begins thrusting mercilessly into her.

"F-Fuck!"

Rukia raises her head just in time to catch the gleam in his hooded eyes, a ring of burnished gold around his pupils before the rest of her words are swallowed by a loud gasp. The sound of her swearing seems to invoke something deeper and feral from Ichigo as he unleashes the full torrent of his want on her. He snaps his hips at a pace that borders on inhuman, like he is determined to see her break and fall apart because of him. He will ruin her and Rukia knows they should slow down or stop. She will be so sore in the morning but then he starts gripping at her hips again, hands kneading and squeezing at her ass, going deeper and fuller; and Rukia thinks, consequences be damned. They can wait for the morning.

She screams, raking her nails down his back, clawing at him to pay him back in kind for the painful hard thrusts. Ichigo growls, his breath hot and ticklish by the side of her neck. He makes her choke as he throws her legs over his shoulders, pinning her to the bed with his thrusts.

"AHHH!"

The new angle proves to be her undoing. She bites into the flesh of his shoulder so hard that she tastes blood. Ichigo grunts at the pain but the gruelling pace he sets for them doesn't falter. The head of his cock brushes against her clit just so with each thrusts and all at once, it becomes too much to think beyond the sound of their skin slapping against each other, to know anything beyond the squelch of her needy sex as it tightens around his cock.

Pleasure runs down her spine, making her legs twitch and toes curl. She can't help but wrap her arms around Ichigo's neck, fingers entangled in his messy hair, reaching for him to tug him lower, hold him closer while he continues thrusting, lips brushing at her collarbone.

Her walls tighten and with a loud echoing scream, she arches her back off the bed. She sees stars, molten and all-consuming as they envelop her senses. Her legs twitch, body shaking but Ichigo doesn't stop ploughing into her. His movements are rough and jerky, his breathing ragged. His balls ache with need but he is determined to make Rukia come again before he empties himself in her. He promised her that he will take care of her.

"One more time," he grouses. While her juices are still spilling from her, her mind still hazy from the orgasmic high, he pushes her over to lie on her side. He lines himself behind her, hitching her left leg high over his hips. Her pussy is sopping wet and he slips inside of her from behind with minimal resistance, hissing as his cock sinks deep, making a home in her. He growls, thrusting deep while he holds her tight.

"You feel so good and tight, still so wet. Spread your legs wider for me."

Rukia moans, earnestly complying so Ichigo can fuck her better. She turns her head, bringing her lips to his, tasting the salt of his sweat and the musky scent of her own arousal on him. It feels so good as he fucks into her, filling her up so full, pulling out only to slam back into her harder, rubbing against her spot with each thrust. Ichigo is a quick learner, instinctively attuned to her needs. He strokes at her sides, caressing her but she is still needy.

Rukia doesn't trust herself to speak. She bites her lips, her trembling hands guiding him to her slick wet folds. Ichigo's fingers are longer and meatier than hers. She guides them inside her, rocking her hips urgently against them when they start thrusting and rubbing at her clit.

"I-I need you to t-touch me there," she whispers harshly against his lips while she touches herself, her own fingers pinching and tweaking at her nipples. He hisses, inhaling sharply at the way Rukia's walls clench and tighten at him, determined to milk him dry inside of her. He easily finds a rhythm to it, pumping her with his fingers in time to his powerful thrusts, giving her what she needs.

"H-Harder- p-please! I want you— F-Fuck—"

It hurts to think. The combination of his hot breath on hers, sharp thrusts and callous fingers rubbing at her clit brings her to a new high and she is very nearly there.

"I-I am so c-close," she breathes and Ichigo begins to pick up his pace behind her, grip tightening on her leg and hips. He wants her to be pleasured in every way possible, to come apart on his cock with his fingers deep inside of her every time. He wants to see her filled up and stuffed with him, to know that he is the reason behind her looking like this: a madwoman driven insane with lust, sweat-damp and juices gushing past her inner thighs.

He is the only one allowed to see her like this.

He suddenly jerks, wholly unprepared for Rukia's hand reaching behind for him. He moans as her hand fondles his balls, stroking his perinium as he thrusts. Ichigo's eyes fall upon hers in surprise and what he sees in her- the dark swirling pools of amethyst as she pulls him under her spell, the near-desperate shine in them as she chews on her swollen lips.

"Come for me," she commands, "I-I want you to come inside of me."

He does just that, tumbling over the edge with Rukia in his arms. White hot semen leaks out of him in thick spurts. He spends himself inside of her in three sharp thrusts, groaning loud at the clench of her walls around his cock. His lips find hers and the world ceases to be as they both fall apart, their orgasms rippling through their souls.

Ichigo finds himself lying on top of her when his breathing evens. He pants, running a hand through his own sweat-drenched hair, but he is satiated, so impossibly smug with the knowledge that Rukia is his. He reluctantly picks himself up to lie on his side, mindful of how small and fragile Rukia is underneath him to avoid crushing her. A mix of bodily fluids- his and hers, spill out from her slit, staining the bed as he pulls out.

Rukia mewls in response to his withdrawal, curling into a ball next to him. But Ichigo scoops her back into his arms. He spoons her from behind, uncaring of their sweaty bodies as he pulls her close to wrap his arms around her. He slides their tired bodies under the covers.

"Mine," he growls as he pets her sweat-dampened skin, determined not to spend a minute apart from her. Rukia frowns, squirming at the stickiness and heat between them.

"Too hot," she grumbles, weakly shoving at him. He reluctantly loosens his grip somewhat but doesn't let go completely. Rukia doesn't push her luck. She doesn't even have the energy to do more than pout as Ichigo nuzzles his face against her hair, pressing kisses reverently to any part of her that he can reach from his side. With a half-hearted sigh, Rukia resigns herself to her fate, allowing herself to be held and cuddled.

Ichigo is territorial and possessive- this much she knows what with his tendency to call her his, his preoccupation with marking and biting her, and his reluctance to let her out of his sight. But she doesn't hate it.

She doesn't hate Ichigo. She can't hate him, not when he is sliding his fingers through her hair so gently, his bare skin warming hers through the cold nights in Silbern. He kisses the tip of her nose, looking at her like she is made of starlight and she'll be gone the second he blinks. The intensity of his stare makes her blush and she pointedly clears her throat, looking away. He chuckles, amused by her antics.

In the afterglow, she busies herself by mapping out the contours of Ichigo's body, tracing the curves and shapes of his numerous scars. She winces as she realizes that his body is littered with scores of them. Most of them are old, some of them deeper than others, but Rukia frowns at the sight of them all the same. She wishes she could kiss the blemishes away.

Her fingers press down lightly on the one on his chest. The mark is deep and jagged. The skin surrounding the scar tissue seems to have healed a while ago but in a shade that is darker than the rest of his body. It must have been painful for him. Something sharp- a blade maybe- was shoved through him his chest, cutting him deep. A mortal stab wound straight through his heart, she muses; her eyebrows furrowing- how did he survive this?

"Who gave you these scars?"

Ichigo stiffens. At length, he replies.

"The All Father's love needs to be earned."

The mood sobers between them immediately. The knowledge that Ichigo has suffered in the hands of his own king doesn't come as a surprise but it makes her burn with righteous fury all the same. Her hatred for the monster only grows stronger by the minute. Say what you will of the Shinigami and their nepotistic hierarchy, but none of them have stooped so low as to maim one of their own. Someday, somehow- she will make the monster pay for what he did to the innocent souls of Seireitei, her fellow Shinigami officers, and after tonight, for what he did to her and Ichigo.

Rukia drops a soft kiss onto the healed mark, wishing that she had the power to kiss it better, to make it go away.

"And your love?"

His grip on her tightens infinitesimally.

"I am a monster, Rukia. Monsters don't …love. It's better for everyone this way. Trust me. What I have is an obsession—" His much larger hands cover hers and he brings his lips to press against her with uncharacteristic softness— "You are mine- now and forever."

.

.

.

---

Author's note:

T^T

I live! The smut has been a long time coming. I hope I delivered. U.U

IR week 2021 is coming and I am not ready.

Special thanks to Ari for the dress and jewellery inspo.

Song inspo: Cool Girl (Tove Lo)