Your Hands Are Cold
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The car park is nearly deserted as they make their way out from the cinema.
A light sheet of snow covered the ground, recent from the looks of it and not nearly thick enough to make them pause.
"My hands are cold!"
Ichigo spares a glance at his girlfriend beside him. The beanie on her head renders her adorable with the flush in her cheeks, the tip of her nose pink as the scarf wrapped snug around her neck.
Her ragtag collection of borrowed clothing has grown into an impressive pile of sundresses, jumpers and lounge pants worthy of its own wardrobe as the nature of their relationship evolved past the threshold of platonic friendship. For today at least, she is bundled up in some of the warmest of clothes that he can scour from her closet- a moss green jumper and a pair of dark-coloured trousers.
She should be by all accounts protected from the cold or so he thinks until he noticed the obvious absence of her gloves.
He scowls. He honestly doesn't know why he tries sometimes.
"You need to put your gloves on!"
Winter in Karakura can be deceptively cold especially after sun down. The midget's fingers are freezing as he makes her hold out her hands and angrily tugs the woollen knits on for her. Bunny faces- pink nose, whiskers and all beam at him and he sighs, the warm puff of exhale a shroud of fine mist in the night sky as they make their way to the car.
He is reminded of the fragility of her gigai- rendered human in nearly all the aspects, especially so in the sensitivity to the temperature. But Rukia's stubbornness is innate, delusional in her beliefs that her gigai will be fine against the cold if only due to the nature of her ice-type zanpakutou.
Ichigo begs to differ and as the responsible and loving boyfriend who is clearly the voice of reason between them, dutifully plies her with woollen knits, layering her in cardigans and turtlenecks by means of blackmail, cajole and sometimes outright bribing. It is unfortunate that the midget delights in derailing his well-intentioned plans.
"Stop fussing!" she rolls her eyes, begrudgingly allowing the warmth of his much larger hands to engulf hers as he leads her by the hand.
"Stop fussing she says," he scoffs, frowning, "I swear one of these days your fingers are going to fall off from frost bite and we're going to have to amputate them and you'll—"
Rukia yanks at their joined hands. The sudden tug makes him stumble, yelping comically as she grabs him by the collars of his bomber jacket, pulling him down to her eye level to kiss him.
The curve of her lips is sly when he is silenced mid-rant and returns her kiss with much fervour, drawing her close into his arms. He grabs her by the waist, pushing her against the hood of the car as he moves to stand between her legs. The cold tip of his nose pressed against her equally cool face as their lips slant, mouth fusing.
She sighs, melting into him as her legs slide behind his knees, locking him in place.
The chill in her is bone-deep but he chases it away with the heat of his kisses and the burning want in his eyes. Rukia is weak for the way he slides his fingers through her hair, unbelievably gentle as he tucks her stray bang behind her ear, his forehead pressing against hers, warm breaths fanning her face as they separate, lungs burning from the need for air.
She laughs a little breathlessly, giddy from the kiss, patting a hand against his cheek almost condescendingly, "You're so morbid, Ichigo."
"Shut up!"
.
His response to her teasing is to bring her in for another searing kiss, enough to make her moan, toes curling; fingers entangling in his soft hair as she tilts her head to face the challenge head on, tongues pressing against each other.
Ichigo makes it easy to forget.
Time and space is voided but there is an eternity in the press of his lips against hers, the caress of their tongues, the way their eyes darken and glow in the same breath when his body, arousal peaking despite the heavy layers presses against her.
Her breath hitches and she feels his smirk growing as he tempts her into another kiss, pulling her further into this lust-drunk madness with playful nibbles and butterfly kisses.
Her beanie is the first casualty in his sensual assault as it falls- entirely forgotten.
The soft glow of streetlights in the car park guides them as Ichigo unlocks the car doors and pulls them into the backseat. The sequence of action is fluid and seamless as he breathes hard against her, shivering almost when her hands- miraculously gloveless again, tugs at his clothes, jacket first then belt.
His large hands make quick work of her jumper, trousers and panties pulled to her ankles- nearly ripping her bra off in his impatience.
"W-We need to stop."
"In a minute."
Lies- she thinks; utter and blatant lies. She figures as much in the way he unzips himself, the growing hardness of his cock pressing against her thighs.
He continues undeterred, soldiering on even when he bumps his head against the roof the car, silencing his pain in favour of pressing more kisses to hers, hands roaming over naked skin, lighting a destructive path of wanton needs in them both. Rukia knows in the face of growing lust, there is no deterrent strong enough to hold him back- be it cold or pain.
But then again, maybe they're really not that different in the depth of their depravity when her hands slip under his shirt, brushing naked skin and with much eagerness on his part, succeed in pulling the shirt over him.
Ichigo's reiatsu envelops them both in the confines of the car, his body warmth golden against the frigid cold when his fingers dip low. She whimpers as her hips buck, body arching when his lips find her neck, teeth sinking into it.
.
"Fuck!"
.
His eyes are molten as they hold her- naked, flushed and delirious, in their stare.
Her name is on his lips, revered and nearly divine in the way he gasps. The wetness he finds at the entrance of her pussy surprises him as the length and breadth of his three fingers slip in unaided until they're knuckle deep.
Rukia mewls in response to the sudden intrusion, hand tugging at the roots of his hair, crescent shaped finger nails biting into his shoulders.
Fingers curl and pump, stretching her out in preparation for what's to come. He makes her choke as they flick at her nub, teasing while she raises her hips, rocking against them; her own fingers tugging at her nipples, rolling them until they pebble.
"I-I-chi-Go!"
She needs more and she's nearly crying from relief when he finally replaces his fingers with his throbbing cock.
"So fucking tight!"
He's grunting, hips thrusting slow and deep into her while he busies his mouth by sucking and worrying at her neck until the skin turns red from attention.
"F-Faster. Fuck- Fuck me like you mean it, Ichigo!"
He is weak- so disgustingly weak when it comes to her talking dirty. To hear his name in the same sentence running next to the expletive, to know that her desires for him run as dirty and raw as his- he moans, such sweet vindication.
There is no greater high than this, seeing her so needy under him, violet eyes with pupils blown wide, desperate for him and his cock.
Nails bite deep into the meat of her ass, see how good he takes care of her? How much pleasure he gives to her and how eagerly she responds to him?
It makes him want to please her more; to fill her up with so much cum until it leaks from her, to have her nails dig so deep until the skin breaks and he's bleeding and he'll wear it like a badge of honour, again and again; until the world at large knows that she is his and he, hers.
He groans.
He wants- his mouth is dry, blood running hot. He wants to make her come, to bring her pleasure until she climaxes, screaming his name like he's some heathen god of the old. That's the only claim to Godhood he'd actually like, and willingly accept.
Beads of sweat roll down his the cords of his neck and she licks at them, tasting the salt and downright purring as he picks up the pace, slamming into her as his grip on her ass turns bruising.
The sound of skin slapping against skin is obscenely loud. His heavy grunts and her nearly incoherent whimpers for more make her juices run slick as her mind hazes, eyelids fluttering.
"Fuck, Rukia! Are you close?"
Her answer is vocal- a string of unintelligible words- a cross between his name and a curse; as it is physical: the tightening of her walls around him, the painful grip she keeps on his hair. She shudders as the tell-tale signs of her impending orgasm approaches, making it hard to keep her eyes open.
Ichigo's thrusts falter as the velvety grip of her walls clench around his cock. He holds it back for as long as he can until his balls ache and his lips are nearly bloodless from the effort.
He chokes, losing control; falling apart as he muffles his groans in her hair, chin perched on the crook of her shoulder, huffing as bangs fall into his eyes.
There is a sudden spurt of wetness- thick and heavy, mixing in the spill of her own release and Rukia gasps at the sensation, more so when his touch wanders to that of her breast, squeezing them, pinching at her nipples.
.
She is breathing hard, chest heaving when he finally slides out, sticky fluids trickling out her in excess. Their bodily fluids are nothing more than messy splatters on the cushion.
She shudders; laughter in her eyes, lightly smirking when she catches his eyes.
"I-I think we just ruined the car seats."
Ichigo's response is a heavy sigh, nipping lightly at her shoulder with his tongue to sooth the sting of the bite as he keeps her body close to his. He bites the inside of his cheek, hiding his face in her hair, moaning as she runs her fingers through it.
"Is it bad that I'm not even bothered about it?"
She laughs, lightly swatting him on his ass.
"You're a bad influence, Kurosaki."
To think that this all started because she wanted to shut him up and now look at where it's led them to!
Naked bodies pressing against each other, public sex in an abandoned car park- she shakes her head. Her brother would die of mortification; disown her in a heartbeat if he knew the extent of her depravity, of the carnal activities she got herself involved with during her visits to the Living World.
Her boyfriend shrugs unrepentantly, eyes gleaming as he presses his lips to hers.
"If you say so, Kuchiki."
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Prompt: first snow
They share one brain cell between them and in the face of lust, brain cell? More like dead cell?
Dead brain cell + 0 self-control = car sex.
Once again this work is a lovely collab with sode a.k.a Ichirukitrash4ever. Please consider going over to ao3 for her delicious art.