Please forgive me for not getting this posted sooner. Writer's block is a horrible disease that plagues many. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Sadly, this isn't the end of the story. I have to post a final chapter later. I was hoping I could finish it in this one, but then the chapter would be too long for my taste. So here it is, Chapter 2!! Please enjoy and review at the end.
THANK YOU ALL WHO REVIEWED PLEASE CONTINUE TO REVIEW IN THE FUTURE!!!
Night had overcome the sky long ago. It seemed darkness had covered every corner of the Kurosagi residence. Most of the inhabitants had fallen into a deep slumber long ago. The house was quiet, except for the slow breathing of the sleeping and the light breeze brushing against the windowpane. It howled nonchalantly and tapped against the window in the lullaby. The digital clock on the desk read one.
Rukia turned over in frustration and groaned. She had been completely awake all-night and unable to find sleep. Her indigo eyes idly fluttered open and she leaned up to punch her pillow and smooth out her beddings. She then turned onto her other side, flailing her ebony locks atop her pale cheeks, desperately trying to find an ideal position to loose consciousness.
Afterwards she closed her eyes, frantically trying to find sleep, but winced as those haunting words attacked her again.
"A kiss is merely a form of greeting, I fail to see…"
She growled in annoyance and shook her head. Why did these words haunt her? Why did they continue?
"Stop it." She heard herself beg to the air. "Let me forget."
Rukia continued the ruffling and tossing for awhile longer, before succumbing to her insomnia. She sat there looking in the confines of her closet in irritation, waiting for sleep or morning whichever came first.
She found herself aimlessly wondering about him again, almost instantly. She had barely enough time to wonder of anything else. Her mind had become so absorbed in him. Rukia found herself thinking of him frequently lately. Every time she had a spare moment, she would find Ichigo weaseled somehow into her mind. He meant a lot to her, she supposed, as she thought about him. It seemed he was always there for her, even when she didn't want it. He had accepted responsibility of a soul reaper and had even allowed her to live in his home.
She peered out of her crack momentarily, only to find his sleeping form. He looked engulfed in his bedspread, his form completely hidden under the covers. Rukia couldn't decipher any of his facial features in the darkness of the room. She could clearly see his orange hair, however, that even in darkness, was extremely flamboyant. She knew that he was either asleep or in a daydream state from the sound of his slow, calm breathing; She smiled watching the lump in the bed move slightly through inhales and exhales.
"Ichigo…" She found herself murmur, as she reached for her crack. Her fingertips lightly touched the sides of the opening. The wooden frame felt cool and smooth under her fingertips. Rukia ran her digits down the side, till she reached her soft bedding.
She found herself longing for him at that moment. It seemed she had come into rationalization with herself. Her heart had finally broken the boundaries that her mind had placed on her. It had taken awhile, granted, but her mind had grown tired of the heart. She was obsessed with Ichigo, madly obsessed. Her heart went insane inside her chest as she shouted his name inside herself. Was this a human emotion?
She touched her forehead, realizing her temperature was normal. She glanced down at her pale hands, noticing the strange spasms occurring again. She touched her chest, reassuring herself that her heart was truly speeding.
"This is so strange." Rukia muttered; she felt so dizzy from the sensation.
Was this love; it almost made her feel sick to think of such a question.
Was this that crazy feeling that humans desired so dearly, that she had tried to avoid? Was this what made people die for one another or live to save another? Was this what had drawn her to Ichigo? Was love what caused this obsessive behavior?
She couldn't tell.
"I want to kiss you…Ichigo." Rukia murmured quietly, her lips moving subconsciously; Her voice trembled as the words spilled from her lips. Her ebony locks fell in front of her pale face to shroud her cobalt stare. She couldn't tell if she loved him, but she knew she wanted something from him.
At that moment she heard the voice again. That annoying voice that ironically belonged to her.
"A form of greeting…"
Was a kiss merely a form of greeting? Rukia had read it hadn't she? It had been written in one of those things humans called magazines. Maybe Rukia had misinterpreted it…possibly there was more to a kiss? She wondered vaguely, as she reached her digits to her lips.
She kissed the digits lightly, imagining his soft lips lightly caressing her own. She imagined them as light and gentle, like small taps, almost the exact opposite of what others would expect them to be. She imagined him as trembling and feebly kissing her again. He was new at this, as was she.
She imagined herself running her slender digits through his amber hair now, and his arms encasing her small, fragile frame. She and he quickly become more daring, as they grew accustomed to the attachment, his hands wandering lower to her pale thighs. She whimpered lightly, as if she were embarrassed of the touch of his rough hands on her smooth skin.
She shrouded herself with her own arms and lied down on her bedding, trying to feel his body atop her own. She could almost feel his chest pushing into her own breasts and his low growls of utmost pleasure and desire.
She could "see" that he wanted her. His mahogany eyes were glazed over in a primal, drugged state. She felt his hand begin to pull lightly at her undergarmets.
"I-Ichi-go." Rukia panted, her breaths becoming quick and shallow. She could feel beads of sweat atop her forehead and she moaned as her hand cupped herself, feeling his lips brush them slightly. He was so perfect.
Rukia panted, pulling her bangs from her face before reaching into her panties. She could feel Ichigo touching her then and almost see his face smiling huskily back at her own hungry eyes. Her back arched at the sensual contact. He loved that reaction; at least she imagined he did.
She felt him plunge into her then, her fingers pumping in and out of her. She murmured his name into the night, repeating the same thrusts. He or was it she, moved slowly at first, but frantically quickened the pace. She could hear his groans from atop her and she could feel his lips brush against her own, as a cool breeze blew past her face.
She thrashed her head from side to side waiting for him to take her completely. Her locks shrouded her eyes and stuck to her slick, pale skin. She almost reached it with him, his face contorted with utmost pleasure, before she fluttered her eyes open, only to gape in horror.
She had thought she was alone.
"R-Rukia?!?" He stuttered from the closet door. She hadn't even realized he had opened it.
He looked awestruck, as he usually did in such situations. Ichigo usually avoided any type of sexual innuendos. His eyes were gaping and his pupils had grown smaller. His hands were shaking slightly, as they held the doorframe. He stuttered something incoherent, along the lines of "I'm sorry."
He had come in to check on her; probably worried she was in trouble from the screams, Rukia concluded.
I was too loud
Rukia gulped, frantically pulling her damp hands from her lower region. Her eyes gazed up at the figure looming in the doorway. She could feel tears swelling in her orbs uncontrollably. She felt so helpless and so utterly embarrassed. It was almost unbearable to feel so much humiliation at one moment. Rukia hid her hands beneath the light sheet. Her hair was stuck to her cheeks from the sweat.
"Hello…" She stuttered, her eyes turning away from his mahogany eyes. "Ichigo…"
"A kiss is merely a form of greeting; I fail to see what the problem is…"
Thank you for reading!! PLEASE REVIEW or I feel obligated not to continue and "god" if you were a writer you would understand that feedback is important and if nobody is reading a piece of my work, I feel upset that I worked so hard on it and nobody appreciates it. Reviews make me feel as if somebody is listening. That is why I tell others to review or I won't continue.