Doormat (Ichigo/Rukia)
Title: Doormat
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Ichigo/Rukia
Rating: R
Word Count: 501
Summary: After a hot night of passion, Rukia feels neglected.
A/N: Written for prompt #5: (picture of a girl sitting on the bed), Table 21, 5_prompts.
As soon as she's certain that he's done, Rukia pushes her lover off herself and sits up, feeling the ache in her chest rise with each laboured breath she takes. She clasps a hand over her mouth, coughs once, twice, and then feels his fingers on her shoulder. With a considerable amount of effort, she refrains from pulling away.
"Rukia, you okay?" His voice, deep and still husky from the night's exertion, is just right beside her ear. She feels his hot breath upon her flushed skin, fast and insistent, but she shrugs his hand off. She knows that she shouldn't be doing that, is perfectly aware that they should be in each others' arms, cooling off with the night time breeze and whispering sweet nothings to each other.
But that's a long time ago, and Rukia feels like it's been years since they shared such intimacy. All she can remember now is nothing but the heavy breathing and the slick feel of heated skin against skin. She can no longer recall the times when they would go for seconds, nor the times when he would give her massages after a particularly rough night. They used to steal time away to be together, lock themselves up in a restroom or broom closet or anywhere else that's convenient and have quickies.
Now, the only time they ever have for each other is in their own stale bedroom, and then it's only physically. She longs for his kisses to skim along her flat stomach and the inner part of her thighs, up her arms and along her jaw, but now it's only one fast entrance and they're done. It's like her emotions are being neglected, like she's now nothing but a doll to him. His doormat.
Rukia squeezes her eyes shut, trying hard to control the tears containing sentiments that she's long stashed away in the back of her mind.
"Ruki-"
She leaves him and locks herself in the bathroom. In the mirror she examines her body, running her fingertips over the fresh bruises she now has on her collarbone, ribcage, the top of her right thigh. The only thing that she can commend him on is that he's still careful to leave his marks on places that no one would see.
A faded blue towel hangs on the door behind her - it's his. With some hesitation, she takes it and wraps it around her body to block out the chill. The sticky moisture between her legs irritates her, almost disgusts her. The only thing ever to come out of this is his pleasure, not hers. A one-sided affair that should be forgotten, but however much she wants to go back into the bedroom and end it all, she can't.
Rukia remains sitting on the toilet, shoulders hunched over, and finally allows her tears to fall in silence as Ichigo's scent wraps itself around her.
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Ichigo/Rukia
Rating: R
Word Count: 501
Summary: After a hot night of passion, Rukia feels neglected.
A/N: Written for prompt #5: (picture of a girl sitting on the bed), Table 21, 5_prompts.
As soon as she's certain that he's done, Rukia pushes her lover off herself and sits up, feeling the ache in her chest rise with each laboured breath she takes. She clasps a hand over her mouth, coughs once, twice, and then feels his fingers on her shoulder. With a considerable amount of effort, she refrains from pulling away.
"Rukia, you okay?" His voice, deep and still husky from the night's exertion, is just right beside her ear. She feels his hot breath upon her flushed skin, fast and insistent, but she shrugs his hand off. She knows that she shouldn't be doing that, is perfectly aware that they should be in each others' arms, cooling off with the night time breeze and whispering sweet nothings to each other.
But that's a long time ago, and Rukia feels like it's been years since they shared such intimacy. All she can remember now is nothing but the heavy breathing and the slick feel of heated skin against skin. She can no longer recall the times when they would go for seconds, nor the times when he would give her massages after a particularly rough night. They used to steal time away to be together, lock themselves up in a restroom or broom closet or anywhere else that's convenient and have quickies.
Now, the only time they ever have for each other is in their own stale bedroom, and then it's only physically. She longs for his kisses to skim along her flat stomach and the inner part of her thighs, up her arms and along her jaw, but now it's only one fast entrance and they're done. It's like her emotions are being neglected, like she's now nothing but a doll to him. His doormat.
Rukia squeezes her eyes shut, trying hard to control the tears containing sentiments that she's long stashed away in the back of her mind.
"Ruki-"
She leaves him and locks herself in the bathroom. In the mirror she examines her body, running her fingertips over the fresh bruises she now has on her collarbone, ribcage, the top of her right thigh. The only thing that she can commend him on is that he's still careful to leave his marks on places that no one would see.
A faded blue towel hangs on the door behind her - it's his. With some hesitation, she takes it and wraps it around her body to block out the chill. The sticky moisture between her legs irritates her, almost disgusts her. The only thing ever to come out of this is his pleasure, not hers. A one-sided affair that should be forgotten, but however much she wants to go back into the bedroom and end it all, she can't.
Rukia remains sitting on the toilet, shoulders hunched over, and finally allows her tears to fall in silence as Ichigo's scent wraps itself around her.