The bar was deafening. The overwhelming chorus of glasses knocking together, and plates clattering, led by the symphony of voices echoing above it all. They were without a doubt the worst of it. Matsumoto was still conscious, which was bad for everyone, but mostly the staff, who never knew when to cut her off. Somehow she had even managed to drag Captain Hitsugaya with her, and he mulled over his drink quietly, a live volcano building in the corner. It would only be a matter before he erupted, words spiling out of him like hot lava, ready to burn. Renji sat to her right while Ikaku laughed wildly at something Matsumoto was saying, egging her on. Across from her Ichigo merely took it all in with an air of disbelief
"You are all ridiculous." he announced finally, when Renji waived the waitress over. "I don't know how you all drink so much. I dont think Im going to be able to keep up for much longer" He held up his hands in mock surrender.
The words were out of her mouth before she could help it. "Is that not still your first? I think that ship has sailed."
The table fell silent for a split second in consideration, looking from his cup, to her. Only to erupt with a wave of laughter, louder than it had been before. Ichigo's gaze felt heavy on her amidst the cacophony.
She met it.
With his eyes still on hers, he lifted his glass. The two fingers of sake swirled around at the bottom. The orange hue of the mood lighting skated over his features, pooling on the edge of his harsh cheekbones the way light catches on a blade. His bottom lip hovered at the rim of the glass, dragging out the moment before he tipped it back, exposing his throat to them all. As he swallowed, his adams apple bobbed in his throat.
Their table's laughter grew thunderous.
"Says the one who is only on her second." he drawled as he set his glass back down.
In that moment the smart thing to do would have been to say that she, an adult, could dictate how fast, and how much she wanted to drink and that was not something to be ashamed of as he was. That was what she fully intended on saying, before she saw the look on his face. The challenge that hid in the lines of his features, as if to say two can play at this, and in an instant she was putting back the remainder of her drink.
Matsumoto howled, "How did you do that ichigo! I have been trying to get rukia to have more than two drinks for decades." She cupped her hand around her mouth away from rukia, as if what she were to say next was a secret, "Do you have super powers?"
Ichigo chuckled, "I wish." His eyes slid back over rukia, "I just know how her brain works."
She opened her mouth to argue, despite the possibility that he was right, when the waitress appeared at the edge of their table.
"Can I get anything for you guys?"
Both she and Ichigo raised their glass in unison, determined not to be shown up.
"One for the whole table," Said Ikkaku.
Vaguely, in the recesses of her mind she realized that having a drinking competition with Ichigo could possibly be the worst idea she had ever had. Not only was he twice the size of her, he was more likely to drink himself to death to prove a point. One more turned into two more drinks than she had intended on having. Which turned into three, then four.
"Did you know that I had to teach Rukia how to open a juice box?" Announced Ichigo around his fifth drink.
"Hey!" She cried in indignation.
Renji erupted in laughter beside her, "Was this around the time that you didn't know that zanpaktou had names?" he mockingly stroked his chin, "I wonder which is more embarrassing?"
"Give Kuchiki some credit kurosaki." Interupted Captain Hitsugaya. "Juice boxes are quite the human contraption. I struggled with them at first as well."
"Thank you, Captain!" She said, throwing his words in ichigo's face.
"You know," said Matsumoto, sounding oddlh sober. "We never really got to hear what it was like when Rukia was trapped in the living world. Any fun stories?"
Matsumoto wagged her eyebrows at Rukia, egging her on.
She looked at Ichigo. It felt like a million years ago that she had given him part of her soul. Part of her didn't want them to know everything. She liked knowing that there was a period in her life when it was just about her, and him. "I slept in his closet?"
"The closet?" Repeated Ikkaku. "Ichigo, you had a woman with you, and you didn't even give her your bed?"
Ichigo scoffed, as if even the notion was preposterous. "Of course I fucking didnt."
"Aweh," pouted Matsumoto. "I always imagined that you guys shared the bed."
"Absolutely not." Rukia told her, putting all of Matsumoto's wild notions to rest, "We only slept together once."
Laughter spilled anew amongst the table wilder than ever before, as she realized how that might sound. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, and her gaze darted to ichigo. His eyes were fixed on her. Yet he didn't laugh, merely raising his eyebrows at her implication. Mouth slightly curled, probably at the blush spreading up across her cheeks.
"That is highly inappropriate Kuchiki, I did not wish to know that you and Kurosaki knew each other to the carnal extent."
"I knew it!"
Ichigo rolled his eyes at their ridiculousness. "That's not what she meant. She meant we only shared the bed once."
Rukia remembered that night well. They had come home from school to find that Ichigo's father had taken the futon from the closet to 'clean' it, and spent the next two hours arguing over who got to sleep in the bed until finally deciding that they would share. Now that she knew that Ichigo's father was a former shinigami, and had been able to see her, the motives behind the incident were rather suspect.
"I don't believe you." replied matsumoto.
Renji waved the notion away with a flippant hand. "That's just because you have money on it, don't you?"
Rukia stared at them, "Wait. You have money on me and Ichigo having sex?"
Matsumoto shrugged. "The whole seireitei does."
Rukia's mind spun. "What?"
She couldn't help it. Her eyes flashed to ichigo across the table. Only to find, much to her own surprise, that he didn't look all that shocked. Even embarrassed for that matter. Yes, she could have blamed it on the alcohol, or years of being exposed to people like Yoruichi as a near child. Still some part of her felt bothered.
It wasn't as though she had never thought of Ichigo in that manner. Of course she had. Any reasonable woman-in fact, any woman attracted to the male species for that matter, was likely to find him attractive. Rukia might be strong willed, but that didn't make her completely invulnerable. The Shinigami Women's Association often fought tooth and nail to capture images of ichigo training (specifically shirtless) while Rukia was offered a front row seat.
The table continued on, conversation easily deterred in another direction by her companions' lack of attention span. In the morning, half of them would forget that it had come up at all.
Rukia wouldn't.
It was late by time Rukia managed to get away. Leaving Matsumoto, Renji, and Ikkaku behind to drink until the proverbial sun comes up. Or the physical one, whichever one came first. Both were entirely possible. The streets of the rukongai were long since emptied, lit only by oil lamps hanging in the doorways of the night market businesses that remained open all throughout the night.
She swayed on her feet as she made in the general direction of the Seireitei, already regretting part, if not most, of the night. Specifically the part where she got drunk. Mentally, she vowed not to allow herself to fall victim to ichigo's peer pressure ever again.
Ichigo.
Rukia had tried. She had tried, and failed miserably, not to think about what Matsumoto had said. She had spent the rest of the night stealing glances across the table, her thoughts going to places that she never should have let them. Helplessly she had wondered what it would be like if she and Ichigo did have sex.
"Yo."
She blinked into the darkness, then giggled softly at her own misfortune. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear."
Ichigo's brows made a commited, but unsuccessful, attempt to creep up his forehead and all but disappear into his hairline. He pushed off from where he had been leaning against the side of a closed shop, and let himself fall into step beside her. "I'm not even going to ask." he told her.
She waved him off, it hadn't been important. "Thought you left."
"I decided to wait for you. You were looking a little worse for wear by the end there."
While she didnt know what she looked like at that particular moment, if it resembled how she felt in any way she didn't blame him. "Then take me home, good sir."
He took the elbow that she offered him. "This is my fault for letting you read my shakespeare books, isn't it?"
"It's entirely possible."
They walked in comfortable silence. Rukia walked with her head up, watching the stars above her head swim in the sky as he guided her. The warmth of the late night summer air swathing over her. Occasionally she would catch him watching her in the corner of her eye, smiling the way people do when they know a secret.
"Do you think what Matsumoto said is true?" She asked when they arrived at Kuchiki Manor. It had tumbled out of her lips without warning, the question that had been sitting on the edge of her tongue their entire walk.
"That Kenpachi and Unohana used to sleep together?" He asked, recalling one of the taller tales Matsumoto had told earlier that night.
She shoved his shoulder without force. "No, idiot. Do you think that entire seireitei bet on whether we have had sex or not?"
If he was surprised by this, his face didn't give him away. He considered it for only a moment. "Oh. One hundred percent."
Unable to help herself, she laughed. The idea itself was beyond ridiculous-That other people put money on her personal life. That there were people invested in her sex life, quite literally. Not to mention that such a thing had happened right under her nose, and she had never heard a single thing about it.
"Why?"
He was standing so close to her now. His head turned down to look at her.
If she wanted to, she could reach out and touch him. Wordlessly, she wondered if he would let her. There was a line between them. One that neither of them had ever crossed. It was one they both knew that things could never go back to the way they were now, once it was. Somehow, she was finding herself unopposed to the idea
Her hand found itself on his arm, just above the elbow, her fingertips brushing over the thin fabric of his shihakusho. She didn't know how to answer him without telling him that she wished she could reach her hands into the front of his uniform just to feel how his skin felt against her hands.
"I was just curious." it was a lie and they both knew it.
But he let her have it and didn't ask again. Instead, he deliberately edged her backwards until her back was pressed against the stone wall that lined the Kuchiki Manor. "Anything else you're curious about?"
She sighed as his gaze dropped from hers, to her lips and back. "Fuck."
Then his hand was around her throat, index finger under her jaw, guiding her chin up. His mouth inches from her. "Tell me not to, and I won't."
This was the point where she was supposed to tell him to stop, and he would back away and they would forget it had ever happened. They would forget what could have happened. Only, she didn't.
Her answering silence said everything she didn't.
When he kissed her, she could taste his lingering smile and liquor. She dissolved into his touch. The feel of his lips pressing against hers. It was nothing like she had ever imagined. No trace of the innocence she still occasionally aqquainted with him. He kissed in a way she hadnt known she could be kissed. His lips slanted against her own, teeth pulling at her bottom lip, and his tongue brushing against her own. She was surrounded by him, the smell of seireitei issue soap on his skin, the calloused grain of his hand under her jaw, the length of his lean chest against hers.
Suddenly she understood the appeal of playing with fire.
His thigh pressed between hers as he tilted her neck to the side. Involuntarily she groaned as his lips left hers in favour of the pale skin he exposed as he pulled her shihakusho over her shoulder.
"Oh…" she gasped as his teeth caught the skin where her neck met her shoulder, and she beared down on the leg between her thighs. "Maybe we should go inside." she breathed.
When he looked up from the shoulder he had been abusing, his lips were swollen and glistened slightly in the moonlight. "Are you sure?"
She had never been more sure of anything. Lacing her fingers through his, she pulled him towards the looming gates. As she pushed them open, she whispered, "Yes. Are you?"
He answered her in a devouring kiss. They had never been very good with words. Both of them better at expressing themselves through actions. Never separating herself from him, she guided towards her quarters. Both of them laughing quietly between kisses as they attempted not to wake anyone else in the household. She had never been more grateful that her brother's quarters were on the opposite side of the manor, than in that very moment.
They made quick work of each other's clothes, some of which were already half off by time the shoji doors of her quarters were closed behind them. Leaving them both in only their underwear, and her in the bindings over her chest. Together they tumbled to the floor, a mess of limbs, that left her on top, her knees bracketing his hips. She smiled down at the sight of him beneath her. His outrageous hair more rumpled than ordinarily, and his toned chest heaving. In his eyes she saw both adoration and lust, and it made her heart rattled around her chest like a caged wild bird.
Cupping his face, her thumbs brushing over the smooth skin of his cheekbones she brought his face up to hers.
When she kissed him she poured everything she had never said into it. Telling him all at once that she loved him, and that she needed him. Without asking, she knew that he understood. His lips spoke without sound as they answered hers.
Slowly she rolled her hips down on his as they kissed, feeling him hard between her thighs. His breath caught at the feel of her against him. Gripping her hard, he flipped her so that her petite body was trapped beneath his larger frame, his weight pressing down on her. She ran an exploratory hand over his chest, raking her nails over the sensitive skin of his nipple before heading south.
At the waistband of his underwear she stopped. Running a teasing finger over the length of the elastic. The groan that answered her touch sent goosebumps down her spine, a noise born from the deepest part of his throat. It made her want him more. It was nothing compared to the deep moan he made when she reached into his pants and gripped him hard in her hand.
"Rukia…" he whispered her name so low, breath ghosting over the side of her neck where he rested his head, that her thighs trembled.
Ichigo reached between them to the cotton fabric that binds her chest, and tears it in one quick motion. He palmed her right breast and brought his mouth down to the other, kissing around her nipple. Unbidden, her eyes closed.
Slowly, she began to stroke him. Pulling at the velvet skin of his cock, twisting her hand slightly over the smooth skin of his head.
When his tongue circled the hard bead of her nipple she almost stopped breathing.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" he asks, teeth skimming the sensitive skin of her nipple. When she arched beneath him, breathless, and unable to answer, he continues, "I have wanted to fuck you for years, Rukia."
Her heavy eyelids fluttered open when his mouth left her breast. She met his eyes when she said low, "Then fuck me."
She released him in favour for pushing his underwear down, freeing him while he pulled her own down her thighs. Rukia watched as he worked his hand over his own cock once before adjusting to her level. Desperate, she pushed her thighs further apart, and he gripped her leg under the knee with his free hand pushing to her shoulder. The head of his cock brushed against her, and she could feel herself pulsate in anticipation.
Slowly, he pushed himself inside. So slow it was torture. Beneath him she arched at the sensation of him stretching her, the warm burn of him filling her, her back lifting off the floor. He stopped once he was seated completely inside of her, composing himself. At the side of her neck where his forehead pressed into her should she coulc feel his ragged breath hot against her skin.
Then he began to move.
Pleasure bloomed red behind her closed eyelids as he thrust into her again, again, and again. His hand spread over her throat, gripping, but not choking. He was so deep inside her, filling up every inch of her. It felt...she moaned, loudly. The hand around her neck tilted her head to the side, and his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of her ear.
Slowly, as they built rhythm she found herself inching closer and closer to the edge. Pressure building in her stomach. Her hands curled into his hair as she fel over it, her orgasm detonating inside of her. Crumbling under his touch like sand rippling, tremors running through her legs all the way to her toes.
"Ichigo!" she gasped.
He fucks her through it, hard and unrelenting, until his own orgasm gripped him.
When he slid out of her, her legs were still shaking. Both of them said nothing as they struggled to steady their breathing. Only then does he roll off of her.
"Holy shit" are the only words he can seem to find.
She laughs breathlessly, and when she spoke her voice was hoarse. "Indeed."
When she fell asleep, she didn't know, but she wakes to the sound of birds, and sunlight warming her skin. The place where he had been beside her still warm, but empty. She blinks at the light of morning, and finds him sitting at the edge of the room where her quarters look onto the kuchiki garden in only his hakama.
Quietly she pulls her kosode tightly around her, and meets him. Her delicate fingers threading through his hair as she knelt behind him.
"Good morning." she murmured softly at his ear.
He hummed in agreement, and turned to pull her into a gentle kiss.
There wasn't even an instant where she felt the need to ask him about the night before. The burn between her thighs spoke loud enough, and no alcohol in the world could have made either of them make the decision to cross that line lightly.
"So who do you think won that bet?" She asked instead.
He chuckles. "I'm pretty sure we did."