Title: La Oscuridad Limita

Genre: Dark
Pairings: I/R
Rating: PG-13 but edging into R territory
Warning: Spoilers up to 202. NC

Disclaimer: This is a one-shot composition of the fan fiction variety. The only thing I'm getting out of this is the satisfaction of growing as a writer.

And reviews stroking my ego. Of course that is only if the reviewers do their job. meaningful glance at the audience

The screams of the dying Arrancar didn't drown out the even more satisfying sound of his sword ripping up through its cavity, cleaving it's head in two and, as a happy consequence, it's mask. Ichigo had the brief disembodied thought he couldn't believe he hear those sounds past the thundering of the blood in his ears.

"Ichigo."

Feeling the euphoria of adrenaline wash over him, Ichigo was stuck near dumb by his senses. Even the sky seemed more blue.

It was a rough fight. The ice and scorch marks of the up-churned rubble that was once a suburban neighborhood was slowly evening out to ambient temperature.

"Hey! Ichigo!" His momentary revelry was broken as he remembered his partner, the shinigami Rukia. "Finally, you listened. Isn't there anything between your ears?" She cocked her eyebrow as she tucked her cell phone into her clothing. "Are you injured?"

Taking a foggy stock of his situation, he realized that all his scratches were superficial and he felt surprisingly no pain. "I'll live."

Rukia nodded and standing calm in the midst of the urban wreckage. "I just called Renji and the others. They seems to have beaten the ones targeting them."

Ichigo was then noticed the wetness, who's crimson color was hard to notice against the black of her top. Walking over, he had to check, "Are you alright?"

Rukia smiled faintly at his concern before dismissing it, "You know I've had worse."

Her hand came up to begin the healing spell to patch herself enough for the moment. The puncture was all the way through her shoulder but nothing vital would was obviously in trouble. That being said she continued on their business agenda.

"They want us to meet them at Urahara's for a debriefing. It seems that the timing was suspicious... are you listening?" she muttered with irritation, finishing her temporary healing.

"Yeah," Ichigo breathed, lying utterly. The only thing that seemed in clear focus was the slow movement of a bead of sweat that dangled on the edge of Rukia's upper lip until she licked it away.

Looking up at him from her shorter vantage, Rukia graced him with a look of sour disapproval, noticing that she had to step back to properly glare at him in unimpressed irritation. To her surprise, his feet lead him to follow her.

Feeling her personal space, for once, violated by the boy who she usually spent everything waking moment with, Rukia reached out to push him away. The hairs on the back of her neck raised as she tried to take a step backwards. Rukia was startled to feel the firm press of a wall behind her heel.

The palm of her hand met with equal resistance, as Ichigo backed her against the wall. He then firmly took her thin wrist, bringing her hand up to his face. Kissing each fingertip before brushing his lips against her palm, his eyes never left hers. He stood there watching the prideful anger flood into her eyes into an attempt to cover any discomfort.

"What kind of idiocy is this," Rukia hissed, yanking her hand from his grasp. Still she wouldn't bow down to the impulse to duck away. Instead, she succumbed to her usual peevish shin kicking.

Wincing, he leaned over to place his arm on the wall behind her, boxing her in.

Rukia flinched as his hand closed over her upper arm pinning her against the wall behind her. The frustration and irritation was evident across her face but was stilled and replaced by reluctant trust as he was able to grunt, "Rukia. Hold still."

Her shoulder tension half released wondering if there was something he knew that she didn't. It was rare that Ichigo gave her orders and his previous actions had disconcerted her enough that she knew her actions had to be careful and deliberate. Still, there was this need to trust and have faith in her partner. For once, she held back automatically contradicting him.

The feeling of her sash being loosed to drop at her feet; her sword in his hand.

"Ichigo. What the hell are you doing?" she demanded intimately, dropping her usual playful insults in her concern. She watched with offended confusion as he reverently kissed her sword's hilt before gently setting Shirayuki onto the ground.

Reaching down to retrieve it, Rukia was stopped by his hands firmly yet gently on her shoulders, easing her collar open.

Peeling the sticking fabric from the wound, Ichigo could see at which point Rukia had stopped her healing. The puncture wound was a congealed mass of healing tissue. The edges were bleeding from his dislodgement of part of the scab.

The steady challenging gaze of the small girl in front of him spoke of independent strength trying to cover up the apparent layer of worry. He could almost hear her thoughts, "Ichigo, if you think I'm going to back down in front of you, you have another think coming…"

How she could act so large and powerful in her tiny frame was utterly fascinating. Slipping his hands to her waist and lifting her light weight to be sandwhiched between the wall and himself, Ichigo could feel her legs wrap instinctively around his hips in an effort to gain some purchase.

Ichigo's tongue begin a trail from the newly oozing blood, up her neck to her jaw. The shiver and tensing of her whole body against him could be felt. That, her scent, and her taste were more important than the futile pushes and pounding that she began against his chest before he pinned her uninjured hand above her. The warmth of her torso against his was more important that the furious kicks of her heel against his thighs.

"Ichigo, let go of me! Wake up!" she began ordering. Dimly, he registered her words, a viciously snapping plea to his reason and his pride. The faint stirring of hesitation was soon silenced along with her voice as he kissed her full on the mouth.

The mask closing over the rest of his lips made kissing her impossible so Ichigo settled for a rough nuzzle down her chin. The crook of her neck and her hair had a heady scent.

She smelled good enough to eat...

Ichigo sat bolt upright in his bed. His hands were fisted in his sheets and his breath frantic. Bringing a shaking hand to his lips, Ichigo took a few seconds to notice he was in the still, dark confines of his bedroom.

He shot glance at the closet across the room before remembering that Rukia wasn't there, instead sleeping over in his little sisters' cramped room. The disappointment that he couldn't check on her was quickly lost in the realization that he didn't want to see her at the moment. The tightening of the lower muscles of his groin was in stark contrast to revulsion churning in his stomach.

While feeling hot and frantic, he could his skin shiver in the damp fear that soaked through the clothes he wore to bed. Ichigo got up and made a shaking progress toward the door to his bathroom.

Flipping on the bathroom light and locking the door, Ichigo ran his hands through his hair. He knew enough about Hollows to know their basic motivations.

Staring at his haggard, flushed complexion, Ichigo realized his worst fear of as a protector isn't that he'd fail. It's that he was the person everyone needed to be protected from...

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