So I've always wanted to write Hichiruki, and now I finally have! ^_^

What's funny is that I was in the middle of writing Hitsukarin smut when this idea popped up and just wouldn't leave me alone. So I wrote smutty Ichi/Hichiruki instead. Any complaints? lol

I don't own Bleach. If I did, it would be a sexy, angsty mess.

He looked so calm when he was asleep. Almost angelic in a way.

Too bad he's an idiot, Rukia scoffed to herself, making sure the bandages on his torso were secure.

Once again he had jumped in front of her, taking an attack from a hollow that was not meant for him. Once again, she was the one who had to carry him home, to somehow get him into his room without his family seeing, to heal him.

Idiot.

Despite her completely justified anger at his idiocy, she couldn't help brushing a stray hair off of his forehead, her eyes softening. But before she could retrieve her hand, it was snatched in midair.

She was met with yellow eyes.

To her credit, she did not flinch, merely watching with slight fascination as the pigment of his skin receded, leaving only an alabaster that glowed in the moonlight.

"Rukia." Her name was said slowly, syllable by syllable, as if he were tasting it on his blackened tongue. "I don't think we've met. Do you know who I am?"

She did not speak. She didn't need to.

His hand tightened around hers, black fingernails digging into her. She paid no mind to the red crescents that appeared. "I'm the horse," he drawled. And with one swift tug, she stumbled onto the bed, onto him.

"What are you doing, Ichigo?" she asked calmly, trying to sit up. She had fallen onto his bandaged chest, and she knew it must have been painful. But colorless arms refused to let her leave, and she was stuck listening to his thundering heartbeat. "Ichigo. You're injured."

"He'll live," the hollow said airily, sitting up. Rukia suddenly found herself in his lap. "Ya know, you're smaller than I thought you'd be."

Annoyed, she jabbed him in the ribs, near the healing skin. He hissed in pain, but he didn't let her go. And when his eyes met hers, they glinted with something she couldn't identify.

"I see," he drawled, a grin creeping onto his face. It was borderline manic. "I understand."

"What?" Rukia snapped.

He leaned towards her, close enough that his colorless hair brushed her cheek and his breath misted in her ear. She didn't flinch at his proximity, though her heartbeat hammered in her veins. "Why he's in love with you."

Rukia stiffened, heat rushing to her face. From the open window, she could hear thunder boom from far away, could smell the incoming storm in the breeze.

"What, you're surprised?" The hollow chuckled.

She and Ichigo had always been close, and there had always been something, something bubbling beneath their glances and touches and words...but they had never talked about it. And now she knew.

"Do you know how depressed he gets when you leave him? How scared he gets when he thinks you'll be hurt? How jealous he gets whenever you talk to that red-headed fucktard? He wants you—oh does he want you."

She felt his tongue trace the shell of her ear, and she couldn't help her reaction—she shuddered in pleasure. She felt him smile.

"Do you know how many times he's jacked off thinking about you, how many times he's fantasized about fucking you? You're such a tease, and you don't even fucking know it. Sometimes you're in school and you're wearing that tiny skirt and he fucks you right on top of your desk. Sometimes you're wearing those stupid Chappy pajamas and he takes you right here, on this bed. And he thinks about what you'd look like and what you'd sound like and how he'd make you come again and again—"

She pushed him back, placed fingers over his lips to silence him. Her breathing was erratic and her face red, but still she looked him in the eye. "Why are you telling me this?"

That grin was back—had never left, really. There was far too much teeth to be comforting."Because," he said slowly, "you are the Queen."

She suddenly found herself on her back, pinned beneath his large body. His eyes twinkled at her, black sclera, yellow irises.

"You are the Queen, and the King is too much of a pussy to do anything about it." Hot, open-mouthed kisses were placed on her neck, and she instinctively arched into him. He hissed his pleasure. "I've done enough watching. Now it's his turn to watch."

In the back of her mind, she knew she should throw him off of her, should fight him. But when she looked at him, despite his lack of pigment, she saw Ichigo. When she buried her nose into his hair, she smelled Ichigo. When his pelvis started a slow grind against hers, oh, did she feel Ichigo.

She loved him wholeheartedly. And love meant accepting all of him—even the sadistic, hollow parts.

"Ichigo," she panted. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

He scoffed against her throat. "Of course it is. Weren't you listening?" He bit her neck sharply, and she gasped. It was going to leave a mark, and she knew he did it on purpose. She was being claimed.

Without warning, he ripped open her blouse, buttons scattering across the room. The smile he gave her was predatory. "No bra, Rukia?"

She jutted her chin out defiantly. "I don't usually need one."

His smile only widened. "No, I don't suppose you do." Another breeze wafted through the window, the coolness reducing her pink nipples to pebbles. He gave one of them a long lick, and her breath hitched. "Fuck!" he swore in appreciation before swallowing it whole.

No matter how hard she tried, Rukia couldn't help the noises coming out of her mouth. And it only seemed to spur him on.

"Ichigo," she breathed, and a hand came up to fondle the neglected breast.

"Ichigo," she panted, and suddenly her skirt was gone.

"Ichigo," she moaned, and he cupped her through her panties.

"Rather submissive, aren't we, Rukia?" he smirked against her chest.

At some point, she had wound a hand though his hair, and now she gripped it, pulling his face to hers in a way that had to be painful. "You forget who's in control here," she snapped. "You're not doing anything that I'm not letting you do."

He grinned again, delighted, then pawed at her chest with enough force for blood to bubble to the surface.

She hissed at the sting, glaring at his smug face.

But then black fingernails spread it around, painting her skin red, before a black tongue slowly lapped it up. "Queen," he whispered against her navel.

Rukia's toes curled in anticipation. But when his fingers dipped below her waistband, she pulled him up by his hair again, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Are you sure this is what you want, Ichigo? This is how you want it to happen?"

For a moment he didn't say anything, and she could only see his silhouette in the darkness. But then there was a flash of lightning, and she could clearly see amber eyes and orange hair.

And then she was alone and shivering.

Dazed, she sat up. He was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, head in his hands.

Thunder rumbled, steadily growing louder. They sat there in silence, seconds turning into minutes before she called out a tentative, "Ichigo?"

When he answered, it was in a whisper. He didn't look at her; he didn't even take his head out of his hands. "Why would you let him do that?"

He was hunched over. He looked defeated. And when she didn't answer him and he finally looked at her, looked at her mussed hair and lovebites and scratched up skin, he looked furious. And terrified. "HE COULD HAVE HURT YOU!"

The words echoed in the silence that followed. She heard the anguish in his tone, felt the pain, and her eyes burned. She couldn't stand seeing him like this."He wouldn't have," she said quietly.

Slowly, she made her way over to his side of the bed. She didn't bother covering herself, as it was pointless—he had already seen her, tasted her. But Ichigo turned away from her, ashamed.

When she was finally behind him, she wrapped her arms him, his back to her front—skin on skin. And she nestled her face into the crook of his neck. "He wouldn't have," she repeated against his skin. She felt his body begin to shake. "He's you, Ichigo. He's you."

She could accept it, but he could not, and it all seemed to be too much for him. His body continued to tremble. "I'm sorry," he rasped brokenly. "Rukia, I'm so sorry."

Rukia merely shushed him, blinking away tears, and held him tighter as he cried.

It began to rain.

A/N: I didn't feel like writing him with an accent, because that would be annoying to write and kind of annoying to read. lol

Bleach wiki says the hollow "represents the dark side of Ichigo's soul" and "his purest instincts". So to me, that means that the hollow is not completely a different entity—he's just another side of Ichigo. I've read a lot of fics where Rukia's always like, "Get the fuck out of my face, hollow, you disgust me, bring Ichigo back, we will defeat you, spit spit hiss hiss". But in my opinion, she knows and understands all of Ichigo, even his hollow. She would accept the hollow, even if Ichigo was still coming to terms with it.

So it's kind of my headcanon that Rukia wouldn't reject the hollow if it ever came on to her, because rejecting him would mean rejecting Ichigo. And the hollow in turn, while sadistic, would never be able to truly hurt Rukia, because he loves her...because he is Ichigo.

So yeah. All of that, plus the fact that Ichigo despises the hollow part of him, equals angst in my book.