fic: Waking Dreams
Heh. A drabble, I think.
Title: Waking Dreams
Author: Akane-Rei
Anime: Bleach
Rating: NC-17 (yeah, you know what that means)
Genre: Smut (so please refrain from reading if this sort of thing offends you)
Pairing: Rukia x Grimmjow
Spoilers: up to Chapter 237
Summary: Rukia's dreams have a way of disturbing reality.
His hand clamped against her mouth to cover her scream.
Which was a good thing given how densely populated Karakura Town was with people of high spiritual energy. Not to mention the number of shinigamis out there on patrol. Any one of them could have heard her and decide to investigate her cry. They would have been concerned, worried…right up until they found her.
She jerked abruptly awake. Disoriented, it took her a few minutes to realize where she was.
Ichigo’s room.
With an injured Ichigo in the bed.
Attempting to calm her ragged breath, she clutched her hand to her chest. She would have blamed the gigai she now occupied for these disturbing dreams were it not for the fact that she had had them even as a shinigami back in Soul Society.
She licked her suddenly chapped lips and looked around guiltily.
She dreamed.
She felt him slide inside of her, moving strongly, his pace increasing. She had no control whatsoever. It was his hands that held her. It was his legs that lifted her. It was his hips that pounded her. It was all she could do to brace herself against the wall with both her arms as he took her from behind.
She could feel her inner muscles begin to clench again as he slid in and out, in and out. Faster. Stronger. Harder.
Ever since that day she first felt that powerful spiritual force, she had dreamed. It was the same night he had forced a hole through her chest, almost killing her were it not for Inoue’s miraculous healing abilities. For whatever rhyme or reason, the moment she closed her eyes, all she could see was his face. The skeletal mouth. The sea-green hair. The dark-rimmed eyes lit by some crazed lust for fighting.
Except this time, it was a lust of a different sort that had her worried.
She bit her forearm to prevent herself from screaming.
Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing he had to silence her twice.
She shook her head, willing herself to stop thinking about him.
But then again, how could she?
Surely it was normal to fixate on the one person who almost killed you.
Twice.
She winced.
While she was grateful to Inoue for healing her after he pushed his arm through her chest, there was that niggling doubt in her mind that remained on whether or not she really was healed. Because that was when they began. These dreams…nightmares, really, that involved the arrancar, Grimmjow Jaggerjack. And again, she would have understood it if her nightmares consisted of his killing her.
Except they didn’t.
Instead…instead they were…they were…
He dug his teeth against her shoulders to hold her steady. The feelings of pain and pleasure became intertwined. She felt him jerk abruptly once, twice, before those bruising fingers gripped her hips harder, drawing him deeper. She felt him nudge against her womb before the warm rush of fluid filled her, overflowed within her, running down her legs like a river of guilt.
She stifled a moan. The memories of all the dreams were fresh on her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget them. She could still almost feel the slickness of flesh moving against her, the pull of his hands against her hair, the touch of his mouth against his throat. She could see in her mind all the positions he took her, all the times he’d had her.
She swallowed convulsively.
For some reason, for some insanely stupid reason, she could still feel his essence running through her veins. Her injuries were healed, but he was still with her.
Like an insidious presence coursing through her entire body.
She could feel it.
Or maybe she was finally going crazy.
Against her skin, she could feel him smile just before his tongue licked the abused flesh at the juncture between her neck and shoulders.
“Again,” he whispered roughly against her ear, “I want to see your eyes when you surrender this time.”
Abruptly, she felt his flesh slide out of her right before he pulled at her arm, turning her to face him. His leg nudged her thighs farther apart before he lifted her just a little bit, her toes barely touching the ground.
She had to be going crazy. She just had to be. It was a better explanation, a cleaner explanation. She had to be crazy, didn’t she? To dream the dreams she had been having. She had to be…to wonder whether Inoue left something of him inside her when she healed her from his attack.
And then, of course, there was that second encounter.
Was it her imagination, or did she see a flicker of some unnamed emotion flash before his eyes in that split second before his hand had grabbed her head? Was it her imagination, or was there something familiar in the way his eyes glanced at her? The way his eyes almost seem to caress her? And, was it her imagination, or did he hesitate just for a moment when he was about to Cero her head? Did he hesitate with just enough time for her to be rescued? For some reason, why did she feel as if Grimmjow had allowed her to live?
He ran his fingers up her leg and stopped near her inner thigh. She shuddered, her whole body bending backwards like a bow as the back of her head hit the wall behind her. Her legs opened just a little more, unconsciously inviting his questing hands.
She could feel her breath hitch in anticipation as he slowly touched her where they once connected.
Her legs collapsed beneath her.
Pushing herself up against the door she sat against, she stared at the injured boy before her and felt like a traitor. What would Ichigo say if he knew? What would any of them say if they knew? Would they worry over her and console her? Would they tell her that they were just dreams and that they meant nothing? Or would they condemn her for the betrayal that she herself felt? Would they look at her with disgust in their eyes and repugnance in their hearts?
“You like that, Shinigami?” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, instinctively covering her ears to stop the phantom sound of his voice-an action so futile, she didn’t know why she exerted the effort.
She heard a restless movement from the bed and found Ichigo moving fitfully. Her eyes traveled over his form, itemizing each and every injury-as if she hadn’t done so already. She clenched her jaw and felt sick. That she would be having these dreams while Ichigo…
Her stomach heaved.
Clamping her hands against her mouth, she stood up abruptly and willed her gigai to calm down.
It must be defective. Why else would she feel like throwing up all over the hardwood floors?
“Tell me you like it,” he demanded, briefly stopping the movement of his fingers.
She was gasping for breath, stifling a moan of frustration. She bit her lip hard and gritted her teeth. Damned if she’d say anything!
She forced herself to take a deep breath before slowly standing up. She closed her eyes and willed herself to focus.
Focus on the many other concerns she had at hand.
Focus on the currently injured Ichigo.
Focus on Aizen and his newly formed Espada.
He laughed, noticing her resistance. “I can make you tell me you like it,” he boasted to her as he slowly slid his fingers across that tiny button of nerves.
She hissed and threw him a dirty look.
Again he laughed and she could feel the vibrations of his laughter inside her. “Why resist, little moon? We both know you’ll give in at the end.”
She clamped her mouth shut, more determined than ever.
She needed to focus.
Focus on anyone but him.
“Tell me you like it,” he demanded again, this time holding her head between his fingers to face him.
She tried to jerk her head away so she wouldn’t have to face him. She didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to see the gloating expression on his face while he had his way. She didn’t want to see the way his mouth would curl in triumph at her surrender. But most of all, she didn’t want to see the reflection of herself against his eyes.
Once she was somewhat sure that her stomach had settled somewhat, she walked towards the door and turned the knob softly. She winced upon hearing the audible click of the lock, and she glanced back to see if it had disturbed Ichigo.
The sound of his even breathing comforted her somewhat.
Taking another deep breath, she slowly exited the room, closing the door behind her. Taking note of the clear hallway, she thanked the gods for not having to run into any of Ichigo’s family. With somewhat more hurried movements, she headed straight for the bathroom.
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction!” she hissed through her gritted teeth.
“Oh?” he grinned widely. “A little too late for that, I think,” he told her smugly. “Maybe if you had resisted earlier-”
She pushed against him with all her might.
Given the way he held her, it was easy enough for her to dislodge his fingers and escape the thigh that braced her against the wall.
He staggered backwards a little, a look of surprise on his face.
Once in the bathroom, she turned the lock and leaned against the door. She closed her eyes and tried to even her ragged breathing.
This stupid gigai. It had to be defective. She was better off using one of Urahara’s the way this thing gave her trouble.
At least, that’s what she had been telling herself.
If she said it enough, maybe she’ll believe it.
She stumbled, backing away from him as her hands tried to unsuccessfully put to right her haphazard clothes. She was blushing furiously and she knew it.
He laughed.
“A little too late for modesty, don’t you think?” he taunted her, approaching her casually.
“Where do you think you’re going, Shinigami?” he asked menacingly. “We’re not done yet.”
She heaved.
She was going to throw up. This stupid gigai is actually going to throw up. Feeling the contents of her stomach making its way up her throat, she quickly fumbled her way to the toilet and promptly emptied the said contents.
It was a strange feeling, the way it began in her belly and rolled up to her mouth.
It was the most disgusting taste, the way it lingered in her mouth and at the back of her throat.
She was sick.
She had to be.
This was all just her imagination.
“Stop it,” she told him softly, almost pleadingly.
“Stop, you say?” exclaimed in disbelief. “That wasn’t quite the tune you were carrying not more than a few minutes ago now, was it?” He stood before her, looking down at her from his greater height. “Why even pretend you don’t like it?” His hand cupped her face and she had no choice but to look at him.
“I don’t,” she declared, although how convincingly, she wasn’t sure.
He laughed.
“My little liar,” he breathed against her neck.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she stood up slowly from the kneeling position she found herself in. Her stomach had settled.
Somewhat.
She felt a little weak and her knees started to wobble. She steadied herself by the sink and took another deep breath.
Throwing up was such a…a human thing to do. She could still taste the bile in her mouth. She spat on the sink in an effort to be rid of it.
Turning on the faucet, she let the cool water run through her fingers right before she began to rinse her mouth. She lost count of how many times she rinsed; all she knew was that a hint of the taste still lingered.
And it was awful.
It brought a bad taste in her mouth, the way he looked knowingly at her. As if he knew her secrets. As if he knew her fears.
As if he knew her.
“I don’t like it,” she insisted.
“Oh you like it,” he gainsaid. “You just don’t like that it’s me.” He smirked as she attempted to push him away. He leaned down. “Would you prefer if it was that boy instead?” he asked her slyly.
She took a deep breath and looked up at her reflection.
Why she even bothered, she didn’t know. But it was almost a compulsion.
She slapped him.
And he laughed.
That seemed to be his response to most anything.
“Did I touch a nerve there, my little Shinigami?”
She had to see it.
Because it was always there afterwards.
The thing that brought chills down her spine.
The thing that made her believe that there was more to all of this…more than just a dream.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath and carefully lowered the collar of her blouse to expose her shoulder.
She bit her lip. Hard.
There it was.
He grinned before pulling her close and kissing her roughly. His mouth traveled from her mouth to her cheek before lingering on her neck.
And like a statue, she stood still.
Because he was right.
She did like this.
As much as she hated herself for it, there was no denying that fact. As much as she could try to lie to him, she really couldn’t afford to lie to herself.
It was almost symmetrical, except for the fact that one side had the added bonus of being more…punctured.
Swallowing hard, Rukia touched the bite mark and felt an icy shiver run down her spine.
As much as she would like to convince herself that it was all just a dream, as much as she would like to tell herself that this was all in her mind…that it couldn’t be really happening…she could never get past the visible marks that were always left for her to see.
“Until next time, Shinigami,” his voice drifted above her before he set her aside.
She jumped.
Because for a second there…just for a second…she would have sworn that she saw his reflection on the mirror just as she heard his laughter in the air. She would have sworn she felt his arms wrapped loosely around her, his lips barely touching her ear. She would have sworn that she had felt his powerful reiatsu enveloping her just then.
But that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
End.
Title: Waking Dreams
Author: Akane-Rei
Anime: Bleach
Rating: NC-17 (yeah, you know what that means)
Genre: Smut (so please refrain from reading if this sort of thing offends you)
Pairing: Rukia x Grimmjow
Spoilers: up to Chapter 237
Summary: Rukia's dreams have a way of disturbing reality.
His hand clamped against her mouth to cover her scream.
Which was a good thing given how densely populated Karakura Town was with people of high spiritual energy. Not to mention the number of shinigamis out there on patrol. Any one of them could have heard her and decide to investigate her cry. They would have been concerned, worried…right up until they found her.
She jerked abruptly awake. Disoriented, it took her a few minutes to realize where she was.
Ichigo’s room.
With an injured Ichigo in the bed.
Attempting to calm her ragged breath, she clutched her hand to her chest. She would have blamed the gigai she now occupied for these disturbing dreams were it not for the fact that she had had them even as a shinigami back in Soul Society.
She licked her suddenly chapped lips and looked around guiltily.
She dreamed.
She felt him slide inside of her, moving strongly, his pace increasing. She had no control whatsoever. It was his hands that held her. It was his legs that lifted her. It was his hips that pounded her. It was all she could do to brace herself against the wall with both her arms as he took her from behind.
She could feel her inner muscles begin to clench again as he slid in and out, in and out. Faster. Stronger. Harder.
Ever since that day she first felt that powerful spiritual force, she had dreamed. It was the same night he had forced a hole through her chest, almost killing her were it not for Inoue’s miraculous healing abilities. For whatever rhyme or reason, the moment she closed her eyes, all she could see was his face. The skeletal mouth. The sea-green hair. The dark-rimmed eyes lit by some crazed lust for fighting.
Except this time, it was a lust of a different sort that had her worried.
She bit her forearm to prevent herself from screaming.
Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing he had to silence her twice.
She shook her head, willing herself to stop thinking about him.
But then again, how could she?
Surely it was normal to fixate on the one person who almost killed you.
Twice.
She winced.
While she was grateful to Inoue for healing her after he pushed his arm through her chest, there was that niggling doubt in her mind that remained on whether or not she really was healed. Because that was when they began. These dreams…nightmares, really, that involved the arrancar, Grimmjow Jaggerjack. And again, she would have understood it if her nightmares consisted of his killing her.
Except they didn’t.
Instead…instead they were…they were…
He dug his teeth against her shoulders to hold her steady. The feelings of pain and pleasure became intertwined. She felt him jerk abruptly once, twice, before those bruising fingers gripped her hips harder, drawing him deeper. She felt him nudge against her womb before the warm rush of fluid filled her, overflowed within her, running down her legs like a river of guilt.
She stifled a moan. The memories of all the dreams were fresh on her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget them. She could still almost feel the slickness of flesh moving against her, the pull of his hands against her hair, the touch of his mouth against his throat. She could see in her mind all the positions he took her, all the times he’d had her.
She swallowed convulsively.
For some reason, for some insanely stupid reason, she could still feel his essence running through her veins. Her injuries were healed, but he was still with her.
Like an insidious presence coursing through her entire body.
She could feel it.
Or maybe she was finally going crazy.
Against her skin, she could feel him smile just before his tongue licked the abused flesh at the juncture between her neck and shoulders.
“Again,” he whispered roughly against her ear, “I want to see your eyes when you surrender this time.”
Abruptly, she felt his flesh slide out of her right before he pulled at her arm, turning her to face him. His leg nudged her thighs farther apart before he lifted her just a little bit, her toes barely touching the ground.
She had to be going crazy. She just had to be. It was a better explanation, a cleaner explanation. She had to be crazy, didn’t she? To dream the dreams she had been having. She had to be…to wonder whether Inoue left something of him inside her when she healed her from his attack.
And then, of course, there was that second encounter.
Was it her imagination, or did she see a flicker of some unnamed emotion flash before his eyes in that split second before his hand had grabbed her head? Was it her imagination, or was there something familiar in the way his eyes glanced at her? The way his eyes almost seem to caress her? And, was it her imagination, or did he hesitate just for a moment when he was about to Cero her head? Did he hesitate with just enough time for her to be rescued? For some reason, why did she feel as if Grimmjow had allowed her to live?
He ran his fingers up her leg and stopped near her inner thigh. She shuddered, her whole body bending backwards like a bow as the back of her head hit the wall behind her. Her legs opened just a little more, unconsciously inviting his questing hands.
She could feel her breath hitch in anticipation as he slowly touched her where they once connected.
Her legs collapsed beneath her.
Pushing herself up against the door she sat against, she stared at the injured boy before her and felt like a traitor. What would Ichigo say if he knew? What would any of them say if they knew? Would they worry over her and console her? Would they tell her that they were just dreams and that they meant nothing? Or would they condemn her for the betrayal that she herself felt? Would they look at her with disgust in their eyes and repugnance in their hearts?
“You like that, Shinigami?” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, instinctively covering her ears to stop the phantom sound of his voice-an action so futile, she didn’t know why she exerted the effort.
She heard a restless movement from the bed and found Ichigo moving fitfully. Her eyes traveled over his form, itemizing each and every injury-as if she hadn’t done so already. She clenched her jaw and felt sick. That she would be having these dreams while Ichigo…
Her stomach heaved.
Clamping her hands against her mouth, she stood up abruptly and willed her gigai to calm down.
It must be defective. Why else would she feel like throwing up all over the hardwood floors?
“Tell me you like it,” he demanded, briefly stopping the movement of his fingers.
She was gasping for breath, stifling a moan of frustration. She bit her lip hard and gritted her teeth. Damned if she’d say anything!
She forced herself to take a deep breath before slowly standing up. She closed her eyes and willed herself to focus.
Focus on the many other concerns she had at hand.
Focus on the currently injured Ichigo.
Focus on Aizen and his newly formed Espada.
He laughed, noticing her resistance. “I can make you tell me you like it,” he boasted to her as he slowly slid his fingers across that tiny button of nerves.
She hissed and threw him a dirty look.
Again he laughed and she could feel the vibrations of his laughter inside her. “Why resist, little moon? We both know you’ll give in at the end.”
She clamped her mouth shut, more determined than ever.
She needed to focus.
Focus on anyone but him.
“Tell me you like it,” he demanded again, this time holding her head between his fingers to face him.
She tried to jerk her head away so she wouldn’t have to face him. She didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to see the gloating expression on his face while he had his way. She didn’t want to see the way his mouth would curl in triumph at her surrender. But most of all, she didn’t want to see the reflection of herself against his eyes.
Once she was somewhat sure that her stomach had settled somewhat, she walked towards the door and turned the knob softly. She winced upon hearing the audible click of the lock, and she glanced back to see if it had disturbed Ichigo.
The sound of his even breathing comforted her somewhat.
Taking another deep breath, she slowly exited the room, closing the door behind her. Taking note of the clear hallway, she thanked the gods for not having to run into any of Ichigo’s family. With somewhat more hurried movements, she headed straight for the bathroom.
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction!” she hissed through her gritted teeth.
“Oh?” he grinned widely. “A little too late for that, I think,” he told her smugly. “Maybe if you had resisted earlier-”
She pushed against him with all her might.
Given the way he held her, it was easy enough for her to dislodge his fingers and escape the thigh that braced her against the wall.
He staggered backwards a little, a look of surprise on his face.
Once in the bathroom, she turned the lock and leaned against the door. She closed her eyes and tried to even her ragged breathing.
This stupid gigai. It had to be defective. She was better off using one of Urahara’s the way this thing gave her trouble.
At least, that’s what she had been telling herself.
If she said it enough, maybe she’ll believe it.
She stumbled, backing away from him as her hands tried to unsuccessfully put to right her haphazard clothes. She was blushing furiously and she knew it.
He laughed.
“A little too late for modesty, don’t you think?” he taunted her, approaching her casually.
“Where do you think you’re going, Shinigami?” he asked menacingly. “We’re not done yet.”
She heaved.
She was going to throw up. This stupid gigai is actually going to throw up. Feeling the contents of her stomach making its way up her throat, she quickly fumbled her way to the toilet and promptly emptied the said contents.
It was a strange feeling, the way it began in her belly and rolled up to her mouth.
It was the most disgusting taste, the way it lingered in her mouth and at the back of her throat.
She was sick.
She had to be.
This was all just her imagination.
“Stop it,” she told him softly, almost pleadingly.
“Stop, you say?” exclaimed in disbelief. “That wasn’t quite the tune you were carrying not more than a few minutes ago now, was it?” He stood before her, looking down at her from his greater height. “Why even pretend you don’t like it?” His hand cupped her face and she had no choice but to look at him.
“I don’t,” she declared, although how convincingly, she wasn’t sure.
He laughed.
“My little liar,” he breathed against her neck.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she stood up slowly from the kneeling position she found herself in. Her stomach had settled.
Somewhat.
She felt a little weak and her knees started to wobble. She steadied herself by the sink and took another deep breath.
Throwing up was such a…a human thing to do. She could still taste the bile in her mouth. She spat on the sink in an effort to be rid of it.
Turning on the faucet, she let the cool water run through her fingers right before she began to rinse her mouth. She lost count of how many times she rinsed; all she knew was that a hint of the taste still lingered.
And it was awful.
It brought a bad taste in her mouth, the way he looked knowingly at her. As if he knew her secrets. As if he knew her fears.
As if he knew her.
“I don’t like it,” she insisted.
“Oh you like it,” he gainsaid. “You just don’t like that it’s me.” He smirked as she attempted to push him away. He leaned down. “Would you prefer if it was that boy instead?” he asked her slyly.
She took a deep breath and looked up at her reflection.
Why she even bothered, she didn’t know. But it was almost a compulsion.
She slapped him.
And he laughed.
That seemed to be his response to most anything.
“Did I touch a nerve there, my little Shinigami?”
She had to see it.
Because it was always there afterwards.
The thing that brought chills down her spine.
The thing that made her believe that there was more to all of this…more than just a dream.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath and carefully lowered the collar of her blouse to expose her shoulder.
She bit her lip. Hard.
There it was.
He grinned before pulling her close and kissing her roughly. His mouth traveled from her mouth to her cheek before lingering on her neck.
And like a statue, she stood still.
Because he was right.
She did like this.
As much as she hated herself for it, there was no denying that fact. As much as she could try to lie to him, she really couldn’t afford to lie to herself.
It was almost symmetrical, except for the fact that one side had the added bonus of being more…punctured.
Swallowing hard, Rukia touched the bite mark and felt an icy shiver run down her spine.
As much as she would like to convince herself that it was all just a dream, as much as she would like to tell herself that this was all in her mind…that it couldn’t be really happening…she could never get past the visible marks that were always left for her to see.
“Until next time, Shinigami,” his voice drifted above her before he set her aside.
She jumped.
Because for a second there…just for a second…she would have sworn that she saw his reflection on the mirror just as she heard his laughter in the air. She would have sworn she felt his arms wrapped loosely around her, his lips barely touching her ear. She would have sworn that she had felt his powerful reiatsu enveloping her just then.
But that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
End.