Word Count: 2025
Summary: Ichigo and Rukia cuddle. A lot. 8|
Comments: I'm going to call this CWP, because it's just Cute w/o Plot, tyvm. For snuzzie, who can't log anything more intense than a light kiss to save her life! Don't worry, it's cute. :3 *pinches cheeks* X3
Their day progressed as usual, if a bit less enthusiastic than usual. Ichigo was tired from school on top of the intense physical and mental training the Vaizard had forced him through with his Hollow. Rukia was, he assumed, tired from a mixture of her fukutaichou duties and Shirayuki’s training. He did some homework before bed; she watched TV with his sisters. When he returned to his room after a nice, long shower, flipping lights off in the hall along the way, he was only slightly surprised to find her curled up on her side under his covers. She must’ve really been as tired as he felt.
Sighing, he flipped his bedroom light off as well, and tugged on a T-shirt before joining her. He could tell she wasn’t fully asleep when she shifted over to make room, and only waited long enough to make himself comfortable before scooting closer and wrapping a somewhat tentative arm around her waist. She wriggled a little closer and he closed his eyes as she fit herself against his chest. She was on his side of the bed, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. This was much better than any of his past few nights had been. He hadn’t felt this relaxed for at least two weeks, and it was beginning to show.
He had almost allowed himself to slip into his first peaceful sleep in days when he felt her turn beneath his arm, and automatically tightened it around her. Her hand fumbled for a hold in his shirt while she snuggled closer, but his breath didn’t catch until he felt her lips brush against his collarbone, just above his shirt. Suddenly he was much more awake, and his chest was constricting oddly. He bent his head a little to see if she was actually awake and ended up nuzzling her forehead, then continued doing it just because.
He could feel her breath coming in short, warm puffs against the base of his neck. Definitely awake. He tested this theory by brushing a thumb over the borrowed pajamas covering her hip and was rewarded when she shifted it slightly.
Warmth flooded his body as he remembered trying to sleep on that stupid futon in the Vaizard’s hideout without her, or even how cold it had gotten here in his own bed while she’d been away at Urahara’s. But she was here now, and he was here now, and he’d missed her, dammit, loathe as he was to admit it. He tugged her closer and smoothed his lips over her forehead when she moved. He was still tired, but not enough to sleep, and if the way her fingers tightened in his shirt were an indication of anything, she was feeling the same.
That was really all the incentive he needed. Dipping his head low, he searched out her lips with his own and kissed her lightly when she tilted her head up to meet him. The hand in his shirt traveled up to curl around his neck, and he made a soft sound as he pressed against her more firmly. He hadn’t seen her in over a week. He’d barely been able to touch her for even longer. How strongly he felt about this aside, he wasn’t about to stop himself from taking advantage of her nearness again now.
Her fingers had found the hair on the back of his neck. Ichigo tilted his head into her touch and let his own trail down her side, not so much trying to explore as simply enjoying the warmth of her skin through the fabric. Rukia seemed to squirm wherever he touched, and he took that as encouragement to keep going, albeit slowly, just in case. The last thing he wanted was a sudden elbow jammed between his ribs, after all. When his callused fingertips met smooth skin, however, he stopped suddenly, and her breath caught against his mouth. He wasn’t sure what to do for all of the three seconds it took for her to arch her hip up against his hand, and then he was sliding it beneath her shirt and around her back, pulling her closer as he molded his lips more firmly against hers, eyes drifting shut as he slid his rough palm over the unbroken skin of her lower back.
She reciprocated for a moment, her hips rolling up against his hand, then paused almost long enough for Ichigo to pull away in sudden confused apprehension. Just when he’d started to withdraw his hand, though, he felt hers as it drifted down the center of his chest, then sucked in a surprised breath through suddenly constricted lungs as he felt small fingers brush against the skin of his stomach. The next thing he knew she was drifting them up his abdomen, fingertips catching gently in the dip and curve of his muscles, and her lips felt hesitant against his own even as she tried to get him to kiss her back again. A warm rush of heat dropped into his stomach and he suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. Her fingertips found the scar her brother had given him and traced it slowly, and Ichigo felt a small moan crawl from the depths of his throat as he unthinkingly wrapped his fingers around her side and turned them so that she was on her back, and he was leaning over her.
Rukia gasped at the unexpected motion, fingernails scraping suddenly against Ichigo’s skin. Any reservations he’d momentarily entertained vanished as his stomach clenched; he quickly closed the space between them to capture her lips again in what he wouldn’t call a rough kiss, exactly, but it was definitely a little…more than it had been before, and man, he was suddenly finding that he could taste her so much better when he worked his tongue past just the very opening of her mouth. Rukia made a soft sound beneath him and pressed her palm flat against the bottom of his ribs, nails pricking his chest as she searched for a hold. Ichigo slanted his mouth over hers and briefly wondered how people who did this all the time breathed before she was tipping her head back in this certain way that let her brush the tip of her tongue against the roof of his mouth, and he forgot he had to.
One of her hands was still buried in the bristles of orange at the back of his neck. It moved now, up to tangle in the hair on the back of his head, half-stroking, half-gripping in a way that was almost painful, but in a good way. Ichigo shifted his weight to his elbows and let the hand under her shirt drift up until his thumb brushed the side of her brastrap. He could feel the vague outline of her ribs like this, the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed as heavily as he did, the burning heat that rose from her skin into his. She shivered as his fingers curled around to stroke her back, arching slightly so that he could reach further, and they both made small sounds when they realized their chests were pressed flush.
Ichigo was forced to break the kiss then, his head light from lack of air or some sort of Rukia-induced asphyxiation that he was sure had nothing to do with her mouth, or at least very little. Her face was flushed, he noticed that as soon as he remembered to open his eyes. The second thing he noticed was that her eyes were a deeper, darker purple than before, and looked as heavy as his felt. He pressed another kiss to her lips breathlessly, then one more, before tearing them away and pressing them to the corner of her mouth instead, in an attempt to distract himself long enough to gather enough air needed to keep him from passing out. She turned her head to the side as he trailed his lips down to the sharp line of her jaw, shivering when he couldn’t keep himself from tasting the skin there. He was breathing heavily through his mouth; he could feel her doing the same against his ear, and it made his own pick up.
Both hands had found their way into his hair now, and they clutched at it suddenly when he nuzzled her chin back with his nose and began pressing breathy kisses to the delicate expanse of her throat. He hadn’t realized just how badly he’d wanted to do this until just now, as his teeth gently scraped against the skin just above the hollow of her throat, and she arched it as she gasped his name so softly he wasn’t sure at first that he’d actually heard her. He didn‘t think he could imagine it in that breathless tone of hers, though, and pressed his lips and tongue briefly against her delicate collarbone in reply, chin brushing the neckline of her shirt, before lifting his head and kissing her firmly.
Rukia let him get away with that until he tried parting her lips again, and then she fisted her hands in his hair and tugged him back to that she could place a kiss on his forehead, another on his temple. "Ichigo," she murmured, and he grunted a question. He could feel her smile against his cheekbone. "It’s after midnight, and you have school tomorrow."
Geez, was that it? Rolling his eyes, Ichigo sighed and turned his head enough to look at her with a scowl. He was still very conscious of the hand beneath her shirt, and of her fingers now running gently through his hair, and of how hard they were both struggling to breathe. "Is that seriously why you made me stop?"
Rukia flushed. "Well," she said softly, fingers smoothing the hair at his temple now, "not really. But. You know." Her blush had deepened as she spoke, and Ichigo knew what she meant, his own cheeks heating. Well. He was seventeen, and she was in his bed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself one day, and that that day happened to coincide with a long separation between them was an incredibly lucky coincidence. He had an excuse now.
Still, it was embarrassing, and Ichigo buried his face in the curve of her neck to hide his heated cheeks. He was lucky she didn’t seem to mind. Pressing a kiss there anyway, because she smelled good and the fingers in his hair were making him drowsy, he carefully settled his weight mostly to the side of her body, careful not to crush her, and pretended to forget that he currently had a hand up the back of her shirt.
He kind of wished he knew how to tell her he’d missed her. Missed this. Even if he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. He settled instead for turning towards her collarbone and closing his eyes, head resting comfortably on her shoulder. She continued stroking his hair, and he nuzzled her collarbone to let her know he liked it. He could feel her smile as she pressed a light kiss to his temple. He hoped she was comfortable, because he wasn’t moving again tonight.
"'M glad you’re back," he murmured against her skin sleepily. Somehow her scent always seemed to making him drowsy.
"Me too." He could feel her breath against the top of his head. It only added to the sensation.
"G’night, Rukia." He snuggled closer until he was convinced he was as comfortable as he could be and sighed, letting the arm curled around Rukia hold her close. She shifted a bit under him and sighed as well, and when she spoke, he could hear the tiredness laced through her own voice.
"'Night, Ichigo. Sleep well."
"You too," he yawned, but he was fairly certain it was unintelligible, and decided he didn’t care enough to correct it. Her fingers were slowing in his hair, but he was hardly awake enough no notice.
There would be no more slaveries, he’d decided over a week ago, prank ones included.