Just Tonight

BY : Gemini523
Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 10405
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.



Title:
Just Tonight

Author:
Gemini

Summary:
"We only have tonight, after all."

Rating: NC-17 [Lemon, M/F]

Pairing:
Ichigo/Rukia

Feedback:
Sure. Advise me.

Spoilers:
Definitely up to manga chapter 180-181. The anime
isn't even there yet, so expect to be spoiled if you only watch the
anime or if you haven't read manga translations up to those chapters
mentioned above.

Disclaimer:
'Bleach' and the characters Kurosaki Ichigo and
Kuchiki Rukia are creations from the fertile mind of Kubo Tite. This
story is a work of fan fiction. I do not own, nor do I make any money
from Bleach.





1.

“I’ve decided to remain here.”

Ichigo shouldn’t have been surprised.
Deep down, he
suspected Rukia would choose to stay in Soul Society, it was her home;
and after
all, what did his world have to offer her? Nothing but a closet, some
stolen
clothes and their strange, occasionally adversarial relationship. No,
he
shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Okay. That’s good. If that’s what you
really want.” Had he
really said that? And with a smile, no less. But what else could he
have said?
Rukia wasn’t part of his world. She was happy in Soul Society. And
wasn’t that,
in the end, what he wanted for her?  To
be happy? Isn’t that why he risked his life, and the lives of others,
to save
her? So she could live a happy life?

But why couldn’t she live
a happy life with me?
That disturbing thought chased him back to
the small private
room he had been housed in while he recovered, courtesy of the 4th
squad. He brooded for the rest of the afternoon, declining an
invitation to
attend an unofficial send-off party over in 11th squad’s
quarters
later that evening. While the others celebrated their last night in
Soul
Society, he remained closeted in his room, alone and unhappy.

 Kurosaki Ichigo had faced down
Hollows and Shinigami
captains, all with a cocky grin and unbreakable confidence, but he
cowered in
front of the idea that he most probably loved the short, irritating,
yet
strangely appealing Shinigami that had daintily stepped through his
bedroom
wall months earlier and completely taken over his life. Hell, it wasn’t
a probably.
He was in love. And he hated it.

Later that night, he found himself
pacing the floor of his
borrowed room, scowling down at the well-scrubbed and slightly worn
floorboards
as though they had personally insulted him. He was too jumpy to sit
still and
he knew that he would be absolutely shitty company if he decided to go
down to
that party, so with nothing else to do, he paced and thought, and
wondered how
exactly he had ended up in this predicament.

When had his dislike of her turned into
respect and
admiration? When had respect and admiration turned into love? Why, out
of all
the people in the world, had he fallen for Kuchiki Rukia? Why was he
such a
fucking loser?

“Ichigo?”

And why was that short, irritating and
strangely appealing
Shinigami that he, the fucking loser, loved knocking on his door?

“What?” He sounded annoyed, but that
was normal enough. He
ignored the way his heart sped up at the sound of her voice and
viciously
squashed any hopeful or romantic notions that ventured into his mind.
She was
probably just there to berate him for being rude and blowing off
everyone in
favor of his lonely room.

The rice-paper door slid open and she
stepped in, turning
her back for a moment to close it behind her.

He took the opportunity to admire the
way she looked in the
simple and elegant dark-purple embroidered kimono. But when she turned
back to
face him, he carefully schooled his face into an expression of bored
indifference. “What?” he repeated.

“You weren’t at the party. Renji and
Zaraki-taichou were looking
for you.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Renji was saying
something about
you needing a tattoo, and I think Zaraki-taichou was hoping to
challenge you to
another fight before you leave tomorrow.”

Ichigo snorted. “He’s fucking nuts.
There’s no way I’m
fighting him again.”

“And I suppose you don’t want a tattoo,
either?”

“Don’t be stupid. Why would I want to
look like that asshole
Renji? He looks like you drew all over him with one of your damn
markers.”

Rukia laughed, drawing a small,
unwilling smile from Ichigo.
When had the sound of her laughter had the power to make him smile?
Dammit. Being
at her mercy pissed him off.

“Did you come here to warn me?” He
asked testily. “’Cause if
that’s all, consider your mission complete and leave me alone.” He
wanted her
to leave him in peace. The sooner she left, the sooner he could begin
to put
this whole thing behind him.

The smile that had accompanied her
laughter vanished. She
suddenly appeared nervous, her small hands twisting the material of her
kimono.
“Ichigo…I didn’t come here for that, I…I wanted to tell you…”

He didn’t like the sound of her voice.
She sounded…unsure,
afraid almost. He could deal with her when she was angry or strident,
when she
called him a fool or an idiot. But he couldn’t deal with the vulnerable
thread
in her voice; with the longing he thought he heard when she said his
name.

He turned his back on her and stared
hard at the wall. It
was easier to act indifferent if he didn’t have to look at her.

She didn’t say anything further and the
room descended into
silence, except for the sound of her tabi-slippered feet as they padded
towards
him. He tensed, wondering what she was up to.

She suddenly appeared in front of him,
her pale face
determined. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she had her
arms
wrapped around him and her face buried in his chest.

He was so startled by her unexpected
action that all he
could do was stand there like a mannequin, completely unresponsive for
what
seemed like hours, but was probably only a few moments. Then, his
resolve
crumbled and he returned the embrace, resting his chin on the top of
her head.

“What the hell are you doing, Rukia?”
he asked quietly, his
harsh words belied by the soft rumble of his voice.

“I want to remember how you feel.” She
whispered. “I want to
memorize every part of you, Ichigo.”

He frowned. Her words almost gave him
hope, but the reality
of their impossible situation kept him grounded.

He loosened his grip and pushed her
away, focusing his eyes
on a spot just above her head. “Don’t be stupid.” He said gruffly. “You
don’t
know what you’re saying. You’re going to feel pretty dumb tomorrow,
Rukia, so
do us both a favor and go away.”

“Coward.”

He blinked and, in his surprise, looked
down at her. “What?”

Her expression was grimly determined;
her blue eyes
glittered with anger.

“You heard me. You’re a damn coward.
You just want to run
away, take the easy way out. What are you afraid of?”

He glared down at her. “I don’t know
what you’re talking
about.”

“Hah!” She poked him in the chest and
returned his dark
look. “Yes you fucking do. But you’re afraid of getting hurt so you’re
pushing
me away.”

He grabbed her hand and his expression
softened slightly.
“Rukia, what’s the point? I’m leaving tomorrow and you’re staying here.
We’ll
probably never see each other again, so what’s the point of me telling
you how
I feel?”

She twisted her hand in his grip until
she was able to twine
their fingers together. “And how do you feel, Ichigo?”

He scowled and pulled his hand away.
“It doesn’t matter.” He
turned around and marched determinedly towards the door, deciding
quickly that
anywhere, even the 11th squad barracks were better than
being where
he was. So what if he would be bad company, so what if Zaraki
challenged him to
a fight or Renji forced him to get a tattoo? He would be safe from her
if he
were surrounded by people.

“Yes it does, you idiot. It does
because…” she hesitated for
a moment, but her determination soon won and she plunged ahead
recklessly.
“Because I love you.” She bit her lower lip, her hands twisted together
nervously. “And it scares me. But even though I’m terrified, I still
can’t deny
that I…I love you.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his
entire being radiating
with tension. His hands curled into fists, knuckles white. “Are you
sure?” he
asked hoarsely. Could she honestly love him back? What the hell could
she see
in him except a bad temper and a big ego?

“Yes. I know it’s stupid, and it
doesn’t make any sense,
but, yes, I’m sure.”

She blinked and suddenly he was in
front of her, looking
down at her with such a fierce expression that she paled further.
“Ichigo?”

She was shaking, her blue eyes large in
her white face. He
studied her, looking for deceit or uncertainty, anything that might
free him.
But all he saw in her eyes was what he felt himself. “Shit.” He
muttered, his
shoulders slumping in defeat. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“How terribly
romantic.” She had relaxed slightly at his outburst, and she cocked an
eyebrow
up at him, clearly amused rather than offended. She knew him well.

He couldn’t help but smile a little at
her sarcasm and she
returned the favor, grinning up at him wickedly. And that sealed it for
him.
Before she could say or do anything else, he cradled her delicate face
in his
scarred and calloused hands and held her still as he lowered his mouth
to hers.

Their first kiss was hesitant and
brief, nothing more than a
slight brushing of lips. But it was wonderful.

He pulled away and looked down at her,
“Then why won’t you
go back with me, Rukia?”

She couldn’t turn away because he still
held her face gently
in his hands. So, she looked up and him and sighed a little. “I can’t.
I’m
not…I’m not like you. I don’t have a place in your world; I don’t even
have a physical
body there. I’d ask you to stay here with me, but you can’t, either.
Neither of
us have a choice.”

He dropped his hands and scowled.
“There has to be
something.”

She shook her head. “There isn’t. You
know that.” A
thoughtful expression flitted across her face. “You know, this whole
thing kind
of reminds me of a manga I read.”

He blinked, uncomprehending. “Manga?”

“Yes, it was rather interesting. I
bought it as part of my
assimilation program. It was called…” she paused and frowned, tapping
one
elegant finger against her chin as she thought. “Fuu-something. Fuugi
Yushi?
No, that’s not right…”

“Fushigi Yuugi?” Ichigo asked,
completely bemused.

“That’s it!” She smacked her fist into
her open palm in
triumph. “The main couple was so in love, but all these things
conspired
against them…” her eyes got bright as she recalled the plot. “I can
still
remember them calling out to each other in anguish… ‘Miaka!’…
‘Tamahome!’ It
was very romantic.”

“Rukia, please tell me you’re not
comparing our lives to a
shojou manga.” Ichigo said quietly.

“Well, obviously there are differences.
We’re not in
medieval China,
for instance. And you’re not a money-obsessed peasant. And I am not a
busty
high-school student with strange hair. And Ishida isn’t a homosexual
cross-dresser with super strength, although maybe Chad
could be, but I really can’t see him in a dress…”

Trying to follow her train of thought
was proving to be a
bit of an impossibility for Ichigo, so he halted her musings with
another kiss.

In direct contrast to the brief, almost
chaste kiss they had
shared earlier, this kiss was heated, and very involved. Because
neither of
them was very experienced with this sort of thing, it took a few
fumbling tries
before they got the hang of it, but once they did, nothing, not the
appearance
of a Menos Grande, not the wholesale destruction of Soul Society, could
have
distracted them.

Because he was so much taller than she,
he had to bend down
quite a bit to reach her mouth. She closed some distance by standing on
her
toes, but it still was a bit uncomfortable for him. His neck began to
ache. He
frowned slightly into their kiss, catching Rukia’s attention.

She broke away from him. “What’s
wrong?” she asked, clearly
concerned.

“You’re too short.” He replied
crankily.

She made a face at him. “Maybe you’re
too tall.”

He snorted and moved down to kiss her
again, but she stopped
him. “Hold on. I have an idea.”

He watched, his eyebrows moving up into
his hairline in
surprise as she loosened the skirt of her kimono, folding back the
material to
expose her pale, shapely legs. And then, before he could ask her what
her idea
was, she jumped on him, wrapping those pale shapely legs around his
waist.
Startled, he almost fell over, but he wasn’t a substitute shinigami for
nothing, his reflexes kicked in and he was able to straighten up and
hold on to
her without further incident.

Their faces were level and Rukia
grinned wickedly at him
before she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him roughly.

“Is that better?” she asked after a
moment, breaking their
kiss long enough to trail her mouth over the line of his jaw.

 “Much.” He replied, nibbling on
an earlobe when it came into
reach.

 “Good.” She returned to his
mouth, slipping her tongue
inside to do battle with his.

One of his arms was hooked around her
waist, holding her,
but his other was free to do some exploring. Acting on instinct, he
wedged his
free hand between their bodies to palm one of her breasts, squeezing
experimentally. She gasped into his mouth and squirmed against him,
which
elicited some rather pleasant feelings for both of them.

“Do that again.” She whispered into his
mouth.

He repeated the action and was rewarded
with more pleasant
squirming from the girl in his arms. He was rock-hard at this point and
feeling
that familiar mix of pleasure and pain, that need to sate his body,
which, in
the normal course of things, ended with his hand and a towel. He didn’t
think
Rukia realized what she was doing, nor did he think either of them was
ready to
take things that far. Reluctantly, he unwound her from around his waist
and set
her back down onto her feet.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, puzzled.

He looked down at her and felt
something inside him tighten.
She was adorably disheveled, her lips were swollen slightly, her kimono
was
twisted and askew and her hair was standing up in places. “I don’t want
to get
carried away.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Why?” He sputtered, looking down at
her in confusion.
“Because…well, because!” She was making it damn hard for him to be
noble.

Comprehension lit her face and she
studied him, her eyes
raking down from his cherry-red face, down past his rumpled and
slightly open
kimono top to the rather noticeable bulge in his hakama. “Oh. I see.”

He followed her line of sight, turned
even redder and placed
his hands defensively over himself. Apparently, she did know what she
was doing
to him, which both aroused and made him nervous. He had no experience
with
these things, he was a goddamned virgin.

“Ichigo, I’ve never done this before,
either,” she began,
easing one of his worries, “but I’d like to, with you.” To his relief,
she
blushed, making her seem less like some world-weary vixen intent on
ravishing
him. “We only have tonight, after all.”

He blinked at her. She was right. In
the morning, he and the
others would leave Soul Society. And he would probably never see Rukia
again.
He could either be left with regret over ‘what could have been’, or he
could
have a taste of it and leave with some peace of mind. “Okay.” He
replied
softly.

She smiled and grabbed his hand, using
it to lead him to the
unmade futon at the center of his room.




A/N:
Well, I decided to attempt what is only my second (or third?) full-on
lemon ever, with my two favorite characters from Bleach, Ichigo and
Rukia. I'm not one of those authors who says, "My work is crap! I hate
it!" (Then why post it, I wonder?) and I have to say that I actually
like this story. I tried to put some humor into it, since Bleach often
has some very funny stuff in it. I did blush and giggle a lot while
writing and I tried to stay away from some of the more graphic/silly
names for things. I don't know about you all, but words like 'nubbin',
'globes' and 'cock' make me giggle and really just pull me straight out
of a story.

 Maybe I'm really just a 12 year old boy
instead of a 25 year old woman. Honestly, I probably should have
stopped giggling at those sorts of things years ago. Anyway, on to the
next chapter....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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