Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
AN: Well this is a surprise… That this dropped so quickly (though I did start this a bit ago too)- take some credit people- your reviews and favorites/follows encouraged this- I was honestly startled by the response! So thank you kindly! I hope this addition is enjoyable.
Again this is Ichigo's POV- so its styled a little differently- it's him analyzing their friends w/ benefits status- while admitting to his real view of things. Basically he's cute (fluffy) and horny while she's practical (stubborn) yet willing. This also reveals their first sexcapade.
Rating: M- For smut and saucy/bad language.
Summary: At some point the dam broke. And Ichigo's hormones burst to the surface in all their masculine glory. What was that first encounter like? Maybe less than magical… A deviant is born.
Word Count: 3,045
Satiate
Boy Unmasked
Part 2
888
Ichigo Kurosaki, Second Year grad student at Karakura University, lazily meandered down the deserted sidewalk on the western side of campus.
A wide yawn nearly cracked his jaw and he continued to squint and blink at the sun that splashed through the branches of the trees he treaded under. The afternoon light was changing, highlighting his hair in tones of flame.
As he combed through his strands with one hand a crooked grin appeared. Only perhaps twenty minutes prior, Rukia's delicate hands (escaped from leather) had been fisted into his locks. Her hands had been wound so tight he thought for certain he'd be missing a patch or two.
In an attempt to savor her after their fervent round of lovemaking, Ichigo had tried to meld their lips in a languid kiss, but Rukia had flicked him in the forehead with her fingers.
For a near exhausted girl, she could sure put some force behind her slim digits.
The young man rubbed the sore spot on his head grumbling, "So frickin' unladylike."
After her cruel rebuff he had still graciously swept her up into his arms to deposit her in his bed, though he had muttered the entire way: 'midget' this and 'midget' that. And yet he had placed a loving kiss to her forehead before his departure.
She had smiled a little and even offered, 'Later, Strawberry.'
These days were not so uncommon. The sex was never stale of course, but the actual carnal acts that took place when she took up her duty in town were unavoidable.
Making up for lost time… He reasoned.
He could never have imagined being so… demanding, however.
But once his libido kicked in…
He supposed all those years of obliviousness, followed by the years of resisting the female form in all its glory had truly caught up to him. In fact all that time spent suppressing urges most young men indulged in had essentially snow-balled.
It seemed only natural that all his frustration eventually pushed him over the edge and his instincts led him to the one female he was most vulnerable with.
The comfort level he felt with her was the truest intimacy he had known- up until the point that his hormones took over that is. But it was only the natural progression of things in his mind.
It had never been brotherly affection that he'd felt for her, yet he allowed her closeness with little hesitation throughout the years.
He wasn't immune to a pretty face, but after the first moment of awe, having laid eyes on the female shinigami, he had not allowed Rukia's beauty to become a factor in their relationship. He was not a man to be swayed by looks- a gradual romance- a building of trust and then love was the only way for him.
When the floodgates had finally opened he knew he had wanted her all along- perhaps not sexually at first- but not so innocently either. He'd always felt a strong desire to keep her by his side- and despite the times he had let her go- he had known that there was no severing that tie to her that would inevitably draw them together time and again.
It was indulgent, but he loved that she blushed for him; when he said naughty things, when he groped her when no one was looking, and eyed her with shameless intent.
But she grew crimson, never more so than when he kissed her.
Often she tried to avoid heavy make-outs- even quick sweet kisses she shied from- claiming them to be too intimate. It was ironic that of the two of them she was the one that became flustered and embarrassed. Yet to him it was all too endearing.
After all, what other woman could be so ungodly cute?
It wasn't just that she didn't saunter around like a bombshell that appealed to him, it was that she let him instill his own brand of confidence into her.
Strange, but there were times when even 'I'll-Kick-Your-Ass-For-Calling-Me-Midget-Kuchiki' was insecure. He loved to watch her bite at her lower lip, trying to contain a shy smile, when he complimented her.
Loved, this.
Loved, that.
He scoffed, but allowed a small smile.
It was love.
He'd been through too much to live in denial.
Despite her efforts to keep some emotional distance between them- he was completely aware of the strength of her regard. Perhaps he was a little bit more enamored than she was- but he had no doubts that she held a fierce kind of love for him too.
Rukia wasn't the type to permit a man to take her to bed without deep-seeded emotions attached- in this respect they were equal. Because…
Yes, he was just a little more head-over-heels, and that was okay.
He'd take no tender words from her until she realized, as he did, that they were stuck with one another.
Let her play the relationship-martyr for a bit longer…
Meanwhile, he was man enough to admit that he could recall every dirty detail- every encounter down to the very first one.
First Time Flashback
They'd been on a stakeout.
A soul had been causing mischief at the scene of its death- a warehouse on the docks. It was an innocent sort of haunting, but the seasoned soul reapers knew that the silly pranks would only last for so long before the spirit might turn vengeful.
The man had worked in that shipyard for nearly all of his life, unloading and loading- watching the cargo ships set off for exotic destinations. In a way it had been his home, his co-workers his family. His death had been an accident, and his mates had mourned the tragedy. While his soul might have no ill-will, and simply wished to remain, death had a pull that more often than not became a fevered resentment.
Hours had passed. Rukia had even allowed him to nod off in consideration for his busier than busy schedule (essays, applications, and part-time job). But while she had patrolled the large warehouse while he napped, his spiritual pressure had gone unchecked.
Ichigo had woken with a start to the feeling of a malicious gathering of hollows and the flaring of his partner's icy reiatsu.
He had skidded around a corner to a halt, his frustrated guilt falling away at the sight of Kuchiki Rukia battling.
She'd looked like Athena herself (if Athena were a winter-kissed goddess in robes of black).
There was blood from a cut along her jaw and while he would never wish her injury, it made her all the more radiant. The hollows were no lightweights and sweat sprinkled the woman's brow, but she whirled between them like a dancer, with such precision that her blade cut them down with each graceful spin. Ice vapor was expelled from her lungs, creating an ethereal fog allowing her to flit about like a phantom. Her midnight hair, dusted by frost, crashed against her face. And each glimpse he got of her lapis-lazuli eyes was electric.
He'd never been more astounded… or turned on.
It was strange- that tingling of attraction that started in his hands- desperate to touch her- and spread throughout his body only to center in his groin.
Oh yes, he was continuously impressed by Rukia's skill, but this moment was on a whole other level.
One had to factor in that he was now: older, wiser, and hell, he was male.
Plus, was it him- or had she filled out a bit since they'd parted dramatically a couple years ago?
What's not sexy about a hot girl hacking away at monsters?
When she dispatched the last of the enemy she stood panting, but soon enough those intense shades of navy and lavender were zeroed in on him and they were shooting daggers his way.
"Oi! How the hell old are you now, Ichigo, that you don't know how to keep a lid on that ridiculous reiatsu of yours?" She had snapped at him, hip cocked with one hand planted there, her sword still glowing white in the other.
His face had been flushed- call it embarrassment- call it the heat of lust- he looked like a true strawberry.
Dry-mouthed he had approached her tentatively only to grip her by the shoulders. He still wasn't sure how she had missed his tenting hakama, but she had allowed him to lead her to a crate and sit her down without fuss.
She huffed at him, casting another glare at him before she gave him her profile and began to use kido to repair the slice in her face. He sat next to her, hands shaking, and erection straining, willing himself not to look over at her.
"Can't believe I let you catnap only for you to leak reiatsu everywhere and call Hollows! They weren't babies you know!" She berated him, hand glowing with demon magic.
The Fates were conspiring. And with the awakening of his manhood pressed against the fabric he was losing to his inner lecher.
He came utterly undone, when she shifted the cloth of her top down to expose her shoulder, a bruise marring the snowy skin.
She sucked a breath in through her teeth and his resolve was shattered.
Glad he had taken Sode-no-Shirayuki from her hands to lean it against a stack of crates- slightly out of reach- he took a deep breath and took the plunge.
Her face appeared between his hands. Those high cheekbones of hers burst pink like cotton candy.
He'd never been a fan of sweets- but if this was sugar he'd devour it.
She seemed unable to push a sound past her parted lips enthralled by the simmering look in his eyes.
It nearly made him laugh to see the nervous, yet rebellious questions behind her gaze though:
'What the hell do you think you're doing, idiot?' and 'Who said you can touch me like this or even look at me that way, you asshole?'
"Don't you trust me, Shinigami?" He asked softly, tenderly.
Rukia's eyes had widened, no doubt taken aback by the charming brown eyes and the cocky smile that curled her partner's lips.
"You're a little tease, you know that?" His voice had dripped like honey and his hot breath seemed to warm the air around her.
The opportunity for her to answer was forewent.
Was is the high of battle that left her vulnerable to him?
They'd really gotten beyond the point of sidestepping the obvious- that they were male and female- that there was potent chemistry at work.
Give in.
He leaned forward then to offer her a soft kiss that lingered too long to be considered friendly. In that touch of lips he'd stolen her breath- and perhaps a piece of her rationale.
She made no protest and the lack spurred him on. He dove in-open-mouthed spreading her lips to work in time with his own.
Due to her half stupefied state, she couldn't quite keep up, but he didn't care.
Synapses afire, suppressed need now abloom, the shinigami-daiko had only one purpose in mind and that was to ravish Rukia Kuchiki.
Before he knew it he'd stripped her of the top half of her uniform and his fingers were ripping at the bindings concealing her breasts- listening as she whimpered into his mouth. Torn open, the white linen strips slid away from her skin and he palmed her small mountains urgently. He thumbed her nipples and she broke away from his searing kisses to gasp.
Twenty, a virgin still and the Shinigami/Quincy/Hollow hybrid was turning a reputable soldier into putty in his inexperienced hands. But Ichigo was nothing if not a quick study.
Being that a part of him was a Hollow- mindless to an extent, it only made sense that his instincts regarding sex were rather keen- natural.
Her arousal came rather quickly, her body shuddering as his hands slid down her waist with teasing slowness. The feeling of her torso and the gentle curve of her waist had prompted the image of satin in his mind. This thought inevitably evolved into the longing for bed sheets- to see the contrast of her skin against the dark blue fabric in his bed.
She moaned as he grasped her hips and she angled herself back so that her head rested on the crate behind her.
It was surprising how pliable she had been, but he had not stopped to question her sudden mutability.
As he worked the hakama down her hips and over her gorgeous stems he could only grin at the way she closed her eyes and made what might have been a whine of objection to his pace.
His hands glided over her ankles, up her calves and with agonizing languidness to her thighs, watching as little by little the long legs parted for him.
When her eyes popped open to see him crouched before her she had gone rosy and she sucked on her lips earnestly.
She was bared before hungry eyes and his gaze slid from her lovely Shell of Venus to her sensual mouth. Beyond the slight reservation that was apparent in her actions and face, he could tell she was beyond objections. And as his thumbs traced down that V where her thighs met her pelvis, she was arching her back.
He smiled, bedroom-eyes ablaze. Bent he had leaned forward to kiss her lips once more in a heated smack before dropping his head lower to nibble at the tips of her breasts and lap at them until they glistened with his saliva.
Again she whined, her spine bowed and he was on the warpath once more.
His tongue slapped against her folds, slathering, licking up the piquant liquid-desire dribbling from her core. She squeaked when he clamped his hands on the underside of her thighs tugging her ass closer to the edge of the crate. He gave little thought to how uncomfortable her position against the wooden boxes might be now as he feasted between her legs.
She tasted like cinnamon custard, like a spice-laced dessert and he buried his face against her juicy center, nuzzling his nose in it.
He exhaled gustily and watched her wiggle.
"Do you even know how wet you are?" He had growled seductively, keeping his mouth against her petals so that the vibration shot further sensation throughout her.
The warehouse echoed back her cries. Good thing they were in spirit form; the patrolling night guards unsuspecting of the debauchery taking place.
"P-p-pervert." She mewled this accusation at him with unsteady breath.
To this the devious young man only chuckled. It was pretty amusing to him that he had caught guys staring at her ass before and thought the same thing of them.
"Pipe down, Princess." He barked at her with no real bite.
She'd looked close to slapping him upside the head then, but he gave her no opportunity to vent her frustration.
His teeth nipped at her clit and her hips jolted, her head tossing back and forth, her hands clutching now around the edge of her impromptu seat. Tongue curled he dipped it into her sweet crevice, catching her almost effortlessly when she slipped and placing her back into a convenient position. After a time of tasting the tight heat he pulled back to stare at her face.
How wanton. Only on the rarest of occasions- when his thoughts had drifted without rein had he ever pictured her looking so painfully…
What's the word…?
Fuckable.
Smirking, he traced her slit with his middle finger, watching as she shivered. When this finger sank inside her, his cock stiffened further and he closed his eyes.
Her body was rolling with every stroke, dripping mound grinding into his palm. In answer he slid another finger inside her.
At some point as he relentlessly drove his long digits into her he thought she might be crying, dewdrops clinging to her obsidian curtain of lashes.
He seemed to know just how to touch her- just how to hit the right places inside her.
An instinctual sex god in the making, perhaps.
Before she came he pressed his tongue to her clitoris once more. Ecstasy washed over them both as she released silently, mouth wide in a perfect "o".
He adored the sensation of her cunt squeezing his fingers and the earthquake effect that made his whole mouth shudder with her.
It hadn't been about getting himself off then- though somehow he had. The fundoshi he wore was sticky with his eruption.
Truly he had wanted nothing more than to feel her- to let his hands roam over his warrior-goddess without inhibition.
It had been a perfect, if not unexpected end to a night on duty.
Ironic that they never did see that soul they'd been trying to catch…
That night had been the start of his addiction.
Flashback End
"Fuck." Ichigo stopped in his tracks, books clenched tight in one hand incidentally obscuring his crotch.
He snorted. Lucky I'm late I guess; no one is around. Shifting his weight from one leg to another in a dance someone might recognize if they looked close, the student inwardly weighed his options.
It was either:
A: Squirm about in his seat in class with a boner the size of the Eiffel Tower
B: Head back to his small apartment off campus to the lithe little minx who(maybe not quite excitedly) awaited his return
It was a tougher decision than it might have been had he not just left her in a near comatose state not half an hour ago.
"Fuck." He cursed again, scratching at the back of his head with his free hand. Scowl in place he was indeed trying to think unselfishly.
She did look tired. And once its dark we do have to spend some time patrolling, damnit… Hours before that kind of night though… Ah shit, she's gonna kick me eventually anyway!
With a sigh he glanced in the direction of the looming hall in the distance. With a shrug he swung around in the opposite direction and began walking. The smile that tugged at his lips was beyond a shadow of a doubt of the wicked variety.
Time to give the woman he loved another wake-up call.
The End…?
AN: So that's that for now… I think I might have it in me for a conclusive "happy ending" I've been toying with though… Jeez- so maybe this is a Three-shot…?
Other Ichiruki scenarios will make it into my ever bi-polar brain though the rating may very between T and M- so I do hope you'll join me again when those appear!
Thank you again! Take care!