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[Bleach] Setting Sun, Rising Moon (10/12)
Title: Setting Sun, Rising Moon (part 10 of 12)
Rating: NC-17 for this chapter (an edited worksafe version will appear on ffnet for those who aren't into that sort of thing)
Word Count: 2,602
Summary: Half a century ago, Ichigo became a substitute shinigami while he was still alive. At the end of that life, it's time to become the real thing, but with death comes unexpected challenges-not the least of which is that presented by seeing Rukia again for the first time in years.
Chapter ten: On non-public displays of affection, the best part of making up, and communication that is not speaking.
Spoilers: Assumes knowledge of all characters and events leading up to the winter war, but as this takes place in the future, historical references are largely creative inventions.
To chapter one
To chapter two
To chapter three
To chapter four
To chapter five
To chapter six
To chapter seven
To chapter eight
To chapter nine
Setting Sun, Rising Moon: Chapter 10
Rukia had gone mad.
It was the only adequate explanation for her current circumstances. The stress of her recent injury, along with the extra paperwork that had built up over even a day’s absence and the fact that she’d spent much of the day debating what to say to Ichigo, had combined to cause hallucinations. That, or he really had stormed into her office looking blotchy and agitated and practically molested her.
Madness was also the only understandable reason why she’d stopped him. “Wait,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his back. “Ichigo.”
The fabric of his uniform was smooth against her hand. She imagined she could feel his heartbeat beneath it. It was a long moment before he turned around.
She leaned her head against his chest, letting her hair fall in front of her face. “You’re a hopeless idiot,” she said. “You don’t just grab a person like that! It’s rude!”
“Rukia…” His hands rested lightly on her back, as if he thought she’d twist away if he held too tight.
“I didn’t say you could talk,” she said. She looked up and her breath caught. He was so close. He had a tiny smudge of ink beside his nose, she noted absently. “You should have better manners than that after all this time.”
“Never bothered with `em.” A ghost of a smile turned his lips and he drew her closer.
“Idiot. You’re so stupid.” Something between a scoff and a laugh emerged from her throat and then her arms were around his neck and they were kissing, really kissing this time. She could feel his skin and taste his mouth when his tongue slipped past her lips and she couldn’t let go, wouldn’t, because if she stopped then this might not be real.
Ichigo made a noise in the back of his throat. She’d forgotten he did that. She’d forgotten how much it made her want to devour him.
It had been over forty years. How had she made it forty days?
“Mmm. Rukia.” Ichigo attempted to speak between kisses, but she didn't give a damn about words just now. Forty years. How stupid had they both been? “Rukia, hold on…”
“Shut up,” she muttered, and bit him on the chin. “I said no talking.”
“Damn,” he breathed, and kissed her again. Lips and tongues and teeth all got involved and there was no gentleness to this one, none, but she didn’t care.
“Rukia…” Ichigo lifted her onto her toes to whisper in her ear. “Where’s Ukitake?”
She jumped back, startled; for a moment, Ichigo still held his arms out in a parody of an embrace. She licked her lips nervously and he dropped them, eyes locked on her. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think about him after-well.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the door that connected their offices. Nothing. If he’d heard them, Captain Ukitake had chosen to be discreet. “I know.”
“Should I, uh, come back later?”
She opened her mouth to say yes. Come back later and they could talk. Give them both time to calm down. “No.”
Ichigo’s face dropped. “Oh. Okay. I’ll just…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture, but she caught it in hers.
”Don’t come back later,” she said. “Come now.”
-
Ichigo had gone mad.
The thought kept running through his mind as he and Rukia walked quickly through the halls of her division. The two of them rushing to her quarters so they could be alone, her presence just touching his side-he still half-expected that all this would turn out to be a fantasy or a fever dream. Only iron control and other people walking through said halls kept him from touching her; she'd kill him for getting grabby in public. But if this was madness, it was the best kind and it was everything he’d wanted and way more than he’d expected-
-and did he even remember how to do it? Stupid question. It had to be something you never forgot. Like riding a bike, really, and damn he didn’t need to be thinking about riding until they were properly alone, which needed to be really soon. He just hoped his riding skills hadn’t rusted.
“Where the fuck do you live?” he hissed under his breath.
“You don’t know?” She glanced sideways at him.
“No! You never showed me!”
“An oversight on my part, clearly.” He nearly went right past her as she rounded a corner and stopped dead. “Here.”
If he’d been in a normal state of mind, Ichigo might have been embarrassed at the way he practically fell on her the moment they entered her quarters. Rukia didn’t seem to mind, though, and reached out blindly to slam the door shut before wrapping her arms around his neck.
This was more like it. He would’ve sighed happily if his mouth wasn’t plastered to Rukia’s. The room was dark and quiet, all indications of passing time gone, and he wasn’t sure if they spent a minute or an hour like that. Just getting to touch her again like this was almost a form of release-but not quite, not yet, and he really wanted to get to that.
With great reluctance, he reached behind his neck to pull her hands away. Rukia made a noise of annoyance and he pulled away far enough to get his hands between them.
“Ichigo…”
“Shut up.” He leaned in to kiss her below her jaw, moving his mouth down as he pulled her robes open to give him access to her skin. “Let me.” He dropped to his knees and began working at the knot of her sash.
For once, she listened to him and let him work, though she didn’t stop touching. He frowned in concentration as he picked at the knot-it’d figure she had tied it tightly and perfectly.
Rukia’s fingers traced his face as he worked, ghosting over his eyebrows, his cheeks. A thumb trailed over his mouth and he paused to bite it gently, pulling the tip into his mouth to suck on it before continuing. Finally, finally, the knot came free. He looked up as he pulled her robes open, exposing her chest. She smiled above him before shrugging them off her shoulders to let them fall around her waist.
-
Rukia would have giggled if she didn’t think it would spoil the moment. Ichigo was trying very hard to make this good, she was sure, but he was also staring at her breasts like he hadn’t seen any in a very long time.
Well, perhaps he hadn’t. Still, if they'd been in a different set of circumstances, she might have teased him to wipe up his drool. As it was, she was more eager for him to stop looking and start doing.
“Stand up already,” she told him, and he quickly complied. Whatever awe her unclothed chest had inspired, it didn’t impede his actions. A tiny thrill twisted inside her and moved lower as his hands touched her breasts, palms cupping, fingers stroking. He leaned over to nibble at her shoulder, but paused when she moved her arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Multi-tasking,” she murmured, and set to work on the knots of his sash. He wasn’t the only one desperate to get rid of clothing. He also wasn’t the only one who needed to see and touch bared skin. She traced the scars on Ichigo’s chest with her fingers, following with her tongue. When she closed her teeth-gently-over a nipple, Ichigo let out a strangled groan and, before she could react, bent to scoop her up in his arms, pressing her against the wall.
“You’re such a bitch,” he mumbled into her neck between bites.
Rukia chose to answer by socking him in the arm and wrapping her legs around his waist. It wasn’t that his arms weren’t strong enough to support her-this was just more fun. A lot more fun, she amended as he pressed against her harder, rubbing against the inside of her legs. “Ichigo,” she panted. “Take off your pants."
“Hmmm?”
“I can’t do it for you, moron! Just-“ She squeezed her legs around him once. “Just hurry up and do it!”
He couldn't have dropped her to her feet and yanked the ties of his hakama free any faster if he'd used flash steps. Not one to waste time given to her, she did the same, kicking her hakama aside as it hit the floor. Ichigo stepped to embrace her once more, this time with nothing between them. “Rukia…” His eyes were shining.
“Shhh.” She kissed him softly as he lifted her in his arms again. “Don’t say anything.”
He nodded once and lowered her onto him, never breaking eye contact as he pushed inside of her.
-
Shit.
Ichigo swallowed hard and tried not to let his arms shake as he thrust into Rukia. Easier said than done, especially when she lowered her face to run wet kisses along his neck, her hair sliding against his skin. Easier said than done when it had been so long and this was so good and she was so warm around him.
“Rukia.” He thrust harder as he said her name, pounding their hips against the wall. “Rukia. Rukia.”
“Ichigo.” She whispered in his ear. “Ichigo. Hold on.”
"I’ve been too old to think about practicing this for a while now," he said breathlessly. "Don't give up on me so fast."
“Idiot.” She kissed him hard. “Just for a moment. You're killing my back.”
“Your back?" he said, grimacing as he lifted her then carefully set her down again. "You’re thinking about your back now?”
“No,” she said, giving him a smoldering look. “I’m thinking I want to enjoy this.”
-
It wasn’t that Rukia minded the enthusiasm. Briefly, she’d reveled in it. But the wall was hard and her back was getting scratched. After forty years apart, she wanted to be thinking of Ichigo when she came, not of how she was going to have to do an awkward reach-around to heal her skin.
“So where the hell is your bed?” Ichigo sounded annoyed and a little desperate. She could relate.
“In the closet.” She trotted across the room, the heat and moisture between her legs a reminder that Ichigo wasn’t the only impatient one. “It is better to roll one’s futon during the day. More polite in case of unexpected guests.”
“Not for this guest,” he growled, coming up close behind her. “Hurry up!”
She scowled. “Must you be so impatient?”
“YES."
“You buffoon.” She was glad he couldn’t see the goofy smile on her face as she opened the small closet and tugged the futon out. No matter what he said, it made sense to keep it stored and neat when it wasn’t in use. Just because she alone occupied this space didn’t mean she should become a slob.
She could feel Ichigo hovering just behind her as she unrolled the futon, arranging it in its usual place. “There. Now will you please mmmpph.”
He glared at her when he ended the kiss, hands firmly on her arms. “About time,” he said simply, and pulled her down to the futon.
At any other time, she would have slugged him for a move like that. She still might-later. But for the moment, she was content to reach out and pull him to her as he settled over her. “Now you hurry up,” she muttered.
“Pushy bitch.” His tone was harsh, but his hands were gentle, stroking the insides of her thighs as he settled between them.
“Of course,” she murmured, and let out a sigh as he slid inside her. “That’s more like it.”
“Shut up,” he said, and thrust.
-
Ichigo was torn between keeping his eyes open or closed. Rukia was so tight around him, and her legs were tight around his waist, and he just wanted to thrust again and again and feel.
But then she’d let out a breathy moan and he couldn’t keep them closed. He wanted to see her like this-open-mouthed and wanting, hair spread out on the futon. He had to see her like this.
He hadn’t thought he ever would again.
Then Rukia arched her back and clutched at him and any hope of coherent thought fled. “Ichigo,” she gasped. “Harder.”
He did his best to comply, tilting her hips up with his hands as he drove into her. She tightened around him and dug her nails into the skin of his back and he was blindsided by a wave of déjà vu. Rukia made another noise, low in her throat, one he recognized. She was close. “Rukia,” he said, shifting his weight to his elbows as he moved, and framed her face with his hands. “Rukia. Look at me.”
She cracked her eyes open, face tense with focus, and then she was shaking all around him, choking out moans she couldn’t hold back as she came. It was too much for him. He began to thrust mindlessly, unaware of anything but this moment and the way she made him feel. Again and again until his hips jerked and it was her turn to hold him as a searing orgasm overtook him.
When he came back to reality, he was collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily. She stroked his back, and neither of them spoke for several minutes.
“Ichigo,” she muttered at last. “You’re crushing me.”
He bit back a caustic comment and rolled them over so that she was on top, her head resting against his chest. “Better?”
“Yes,” she said, breath tickling his skin. “Much.”
They lay together in silence. Ichigo would have been content to stay like that forever if one thing wasn’t bothering him. “Rukia?”
“Mmm?” She already sounded half asleep.
“Well…”
“Spit it out, Ichigo.”
“Why did we wait so long?” There was a long pause. “Rukia?”
“Since when did you start feeling chatty after sex?” she grumbled.
“Hey, if I’m interrupting your beauty sleep-“
She cut him off by placing her hand over his mouth. “You’re not,” she said quietly, and swiped her thumb across the skin beside his nose.
"What was that?"
"Oh," she said, "just a bit of ink."
"What?" He touched his face. "This whole time? And you just now told me?"
"I was distracted." She was smiling, so instead of teasing her or starting an argument, he wrapped his arms tighter around her and ran his fingers up and down the skin of her back. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her.
“Ichigo?” Her voice was soft in the quiet room, as if she weren’t even certain she wanted him to hear her.
“Yeah?”
She sat up on an elbow to face him better, though he refused to relinquish his hold on her waist. Her eyes looked serious. “What do we do now?”
He hesitated. He wasn’t certain what kind of answer he could give-or what she expected. He settled for pulling her closer and kissing her.
“That’s not an answer,” she pointed out when their lips parted.
“Now who’s chatty?” Before she could answer, he rolled them over so he was pressing her down onto the futon. “We’ll figure this out, Rukia, but can we just-can we enjoy the moment first?” He leaned down to kiss her neck. “We’ve got a lot of years to make up for.”
She ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose…that is acceptable.”
“Good.” He grinned against her skin and proceeded to make sure they had no need for words.
--
Next chapter: “I think there’s no damn reason for me to be here.”
Rating: NC-17 for this chapter (an edited worksafe version will appear on ffnet for those who aren't into that sort of thing)
Word Count: 2,602
Summary: Half a century ago, Ichigo became a substitute shinigami while he was still alive. At the end of that life, it's time to become the real thing, but with death comes unexpected challenges-not the least of which is that presented by seeing Rukia again for the first time in years.
Chapter ten: On non-public displays of affection, the best part of making up, and communication that is not speaking.
Spoilers: Assumes knowledge of all characters and events leading up to the winter war, but as this takes place in the future, historical references are largely creative inventions.
To chapter one
To chapter two
To chapter three
To chapter four
To chapter five
To chapter six
To chapter seven
To chapter eight
To chapter nine
Setting Sun, Rising Moon: Chapter 10
Rukia had gone mad.
It was the only adequate explanation for her current circumstances. The stress of her recent injury, along with the extra paperwork that had built up over even a day’s absence and the fact that she’d spent much of the day debating what to say to Ichigo, had combined to cause hallucinations. That, or he really had stormed into her office looking blotchy and agitated and practically molested her.
Madness was also the only understandable reason why she’d stopped him. “Wait,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his back. “Ichigo.”
The fabric of his uniform was smooth against her hand. She imagined she could feel his heartbeat beneath it. It was a long moment before he turned around.
She leaned her head against his chest, letting her hair fall in front of her face. “You’re a hopeless idiot,” she said. “You don’t just grab a person like that! It’s rude!”
“Rukia…” His hands rested lightly on her back, as if he thought she’d twist away if he held too tight.
“I didn’t say you could talk,” she said. She looked up and her breath caught. He was so close. He had a tiny smudge of ink beside his nose, she noted absently. “You should have better manners than that after all this time.”
“Never bothered with `em.” A ghost of a smile turned his lips and he drew her closer.
“Idiot. You’re so stupid.” Something between a scoff and a laugh emerged from her throat and then her arms were around his neck and they were kissing, really kissing this time. She could feel his skin and taste his mouth when his tongue slipped past her lips and she couldn’t let go, wouldn’t, because if she stopped then this might not be real.
Ichigo made a noise in the back of his throat. She’d forgotten he did that. She’d forgotten how much it made her want to devour him.
It had been over forty years. How had she made it forty days?
“Mmm. Rukia.” Ichigo attempted to speak between kisses, but she didn't give a damn about words just now. Forty years. How stupid had they both been? “Rukia, hold on…”
“Shut up,” she muttered, and bit him on the chin. “I said no talking.”
“Damn,” he breathed, and kissed her again. Lips and tongues and teeth all got involved and there was no gentleness to this one, none, but she didn’t care.
“Rukia…” Ichigo lifted her onto her toes to whisper in her ear. “Where’s Ukitake?”
She jumped back, startled; for a moment, Ichigo still held his arms out in a parody of an embrace. She licked her lips nervously and he dropped them, eyes locked on her. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think about him after-well.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the door that connected their offices. Nothing. If he’d heard them, Captain Ukitake had chosen to be discreet. “I know.”
“Should I, uh, come back later?”
She opened her mouth to say yes. Come back later and they could talk. Give them both time to calm down. “No.”
Ichigo’s face dropped. “Oh. Okay. I’ll just…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture, but she caught it in hers.
”Don’t come back later,” she said. “Come now.”
-
Ichigo had gone mad.
The thought kept running through his mind as he and Rukia walked quickly through the halls of her division. The two of them rushing to her quarters so they could be alone, her presence just touching his side-he still half-expected that all this would turn out to be a fantasy or a fever dream. Only iron control and other people walking through said halls kept him from touching her; she'd kill him for getting grabby in public. But if this was madness, it was the best kind and it was everything he’d wanted and way more than he’d expected-
-and did he even remember how to do it? Stupid question. It had to be something you never forgot. Like riding a bike, really, and damn he didn’t need to be thinking about riding until they were properly alone, which needed to be really soon. He just hoped his riding skills hadn’t rusted.
“Where the fuck do you live?” he hissed under his breath.
“You don’t know?” She glanced sideways at him.
“No! You never showed me!”
“An oversight on my part, clearly.” He nearly went right past her as she rounded a corner and stopped dead. “Here.”
If he’d been in a normal state of mind, Ichigo might have been embarrassed at the way he practically fell on her the moment they entered her quarters. Rukia didn’t seem to mind, though, and reached out blindly to slam the door shut before wrapping her arms around his neck.
This was more like it. He would’ve sighed happily if his mouth wasn’t plastered to Rukia’s. The room was dark and quiet, all indications of passing time gone, and he wasn’t sure if they spent a minute or an hour like that. Just getting to touch her again like this was almost a form of release-but not quite, not yet, and he really wanted to get to that.
With great reluctance, he reached behind his neck to pull her hands away. Rukia made a noise of annoyance and he pulled away far enough to get his hands between them.
“Ichigo…”
“Shut up.” He leaned in to kiss her below her jaw, moving his mouth down as he pulled her robes open to give him access to her skin. “Let me.” He dropped to his knees and began working at the knot of her sash.
For once, she listened to him and let him work, though she didn’t stop touching. He frowned in concentration as he picked at the knot-it’d figure she had tied it tightly and perfectly.
Rukia’s fingers traced his face as he worked, ghosting over his eyebrows, his cheeks. A thumb trailed over his mouth and he paused to bite it gently, pulling the tip into his mouth to suck on it before continuing. Finally, finally, the knot came free. He looked up as he pulled her robes open, exposing her chest. She smiled above him before shrugging them off her shoulders to let them fall around her waist.
-
Rukia would have giggled if she didn’t think it would spoil the moment. Ichigo was trying very hard to make this good, she was sure, but he was also staring at her breasts like he hadn’t seen any in a very long time.
Well, perhaps he hadn’t. Still, if they'd been in a different set of circumstances, she might have teased him to wipe up his drool. As it was, she was more eager for him to stop looking and start doing.
“Stand up already,” she told him, and he quickly complied. Whatever awe her unclothed chest had inspired, it didn’t impede his actions. A tiny thrill twisted inside her and moved lower as his hands touched her breasts, palms cupping, fingers stroking. He leaned over to nibble at her shoulder, but paused when she moved her arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Multi-tasking,” she murmured, and set to work on the knots of his sash. He wasn’t the only one desperate to get rid of clothing. He also wasn’t the only one who needed to see and touch bared skin. She traced the scars on Ichigo’s chest with her fingers, following with her tongue. When she closed her teeth-gently-over a nipple, Ichigo let out a strangled groan and, before she could react, bent to scoop her up in his arms, pressing her against the wall.
“You’re such a bitch,” he mumbled into her neck between bites.
Rukia chose to answer by socking him in the arm and wrapping her legs around his waist. It wasn’t that his arms weren’t strong enough to support her-this was just more fun. A lot more fun, she amended as he pressed against her harder, rubbing against the inside of her legs. “Ichigo,” she panted. “Take off your pants."
“Hmmm?”
“I can’t do it for you, moron! Just-“ She squeezed her legs around him once. “Just hurry up and do it!”
He couldn't have dropped her to her feet and yanked the ties of his hakama free any faster if he'd used flash steps. Not one to waste time given to her, she did the same, kicking her hakama aside as it hit the floor. Ichigo stepped to embrace her once more, this time with nothing between them. “Rukia…” His eyes were shining.
“Shhh.” She kissed him softly as he lifted her in his arms again. “Don’t say anything.”
He nodded once and lowered her onto him, never breaking eye contact as he pushed inside of her.
-
Shit.
Ichigo swallowed hard and tried not to let his arms shake as he thrust into Rukia. Easier said than done, especially when she lowered her face to run wet kisses along his neck, her hair sliding against his skin. Easier said than done when it had been so long and this was so good and she was so warm around him.
“Rukia.” He thrust harder as he said her name, pounding their hips against the wall. “Rukia. Rukia.”
“Ichigo.” She whispered in his ear. “Ichigo. Hold on.”
"I’ve been too old to think about practicing this for a while now," he said breathlessly. "Don't give up on me so fast."
“Idiot.” She kissed him hard. “Just for a moment. You're killing my back.”
“Your back?" he said, grimacing as he lifted her then carefully set her down again. "You’re thinking about your back now?”
“No,” she said, giving him a smoldering look. “I’m thinking I want to enjoy this.”
-
It wasn’t that Rukia minded the enthusiasm. Briefly, she’d reveled in it. But the wall was hard and her back was getting scratched. After forty years apart, she wanted to be thinking of Ichigo when she came, not of how she was going to have to do an awkward reach-around to heal her skin.
“So where the hell is your bed?” Ichigo sounded annoyed and a little desperate. She could relate.
“In the closet.” She trotted across the room, the heat and moisture between her legs a reminder that Ichigo wasn’t the only impatient one. “It is better to roll one’s futon during the day. More polite in case of unexpected guests.”
“Not for this guest,” he growled, coming up close behind her. “Hurry up!”
She scowled. “Must you be so impatient?”
“YES."
“You buffoon.” She was glad he couldn’t see the goofy smile on her face as she opened the small closet and tugged the futon out. No matter what he said, it made sense to keep it stored and neat when it wasn’t in use. Just because she alone occupied this space didn’t mean she should become a slob.
She could feel Ichigo hovering just behind her as she unrolled the futon, arranging it in its usual place. “There. Now will you please mmmpph.”
He glared at her when he ended the kiss, hands firmly on her arms. “About time,” he said simply, and pulled her down to the futon.
At any other time, she would have slugged him for a move like that. She still might-later. But for the moment, she was content to reach out and pull him to her as he settled over her. “Now you hurry up,” she muttered.
“Pushy bitch.” His tone was harsh, but his hands were gentle, stroking the insides of her thighs as he settled between them.
“Of course,” she murmured, and let out a sigh as he slid inside her. “That’s more like it.”
“Shut up,” he said, and thrust.
-
Ichigo was torn between keeping his eyes open or closed. Rukia was so tight around him, and her legs were tight around his waist, and he just wanted to thrust again and again and feel.
But then she’d let out a breathy moan and he couldn’t keep them closed. He wanted to see her like this-open-mouthed and wanting, hair spread out on the futon. He had to see her like this.
He hadn’t thought he ever would again.
Then Rukia arched her back and clutched at him and any hope of coherent thought fled. “Ichigo,” she gasped. “Harder.”
He did his best to comply, tilting her hips up with his hands as he drove into her. She tightened around him and dug her nails into the skin of his back and he was blindsided by a wave of déjà vu. Rukia made another noise, low in her throat, one he recognized. She was close. “Rukia,” he said, shifting his weight to his elbows as he moved, and framed her face with his hands. “Rukia. Look at me.”
She cracked her eyes open, face tense with focus, and then she was shaking all around him, choking out moans she couldn’t hold back as she came. It was too much for him. He began to thrust mindlessly, unaware of anything but this moment and the way she made him feel. Again and again until his hips jerked and it was her turn to hold him as a searing orgasm overtook him.
When he came back to reality, he was collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily. She stroked his back, and neither of them spoke for several minutes.
“Ichigo,” she muttered at last. “You’re crushing me.”
He bit back a caustic comment and rolled them over so that she was on top, her head resting against his chest. “Better?”
“Yes,” she said, breath tickling his skin. “Much.”
They lay together in silence. Ichigo would have been content to stay like that forever if one thing wasn’t bothering him. “Rukia?”
“Mmm?” She already sounded half asleep.
“Well…”
“Spit it out, Ichigo.”
“Why did we wait so long?” There was a long pause. “Rukia?”
“Since when did you start feeling chatty after sex?” she grumbled.
“Hey, if I’m interrupting your beauty sleep-“
She cut him off by placing her hand over his mouth. “You’re not,” she said quietly, and swiped her thumb across the skin beside his nose.
"What was that?"
"Oh," she said, "just a bit of ink."
"What?" He touched his face. "This whole time? And you just now told me?"
"I was distracted." She was smiling, so instead of teasing her or starting an argument, he wrapped his arms tighter around her and ran his fingers up and down the skin of her back. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her.
“Ichigo?” Her voice was soft in the quiet room, as if she weren’t even certain she wanted him to hear her.
“Yeah?”
She sat up on an elbow to face him better, though he refused to relinquish his hold on her waist. Her eyes looked serious. “What do we do now?”
He hesitated. He wasn’t certain what kind of answer he could give-or what she expected. He settled for pulling her closer and kissing her.
“That’s not an answer,” she pointed out when their lips parted.
“Now who’s chatty?” Before she could answer, he rolled them over so he was pressing her down onto the futon. “We’ll figure this out, Rukia, but can we just-can we enjoy the moment first?” He leaned down to kiss her neck. “We’ve got a lot of years to make up for.”
She ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose…that is acceptable.”
“Good.” He grinned against her skin and proceeded to make sure they had no need for words.
--
Next chapter: “I think there’s no damn reason for me to be here.”