Yohko had never been kissed like this before. It was always tender, careing, even if it was a possessed lover kissing her. This was forceful, raw, what it lacked in style it made up for in passion. As Ichigo sucked on her lip, she felt weak and awkwardly attempted to follow his lead. All the dreaming and practice in the world could not prepare her for this.
Ichigo’s mouth was hot against Yohko’s as he opened it and slipped his tongue in between her lips. She met his advances with a blush, rubbing her tongue against his, feeling the warmth and texture. His was almost attacking her mouth, but her own caressed its contours softly, as if massaging away the pain from a weary samurai. Ichigo stepped forward, causing Yohko to step back. He stepped forward again, and she back again. They repeated these steps until the young woman gave a muffled cry against Ichigo’s seeking tongue, her back having hit the wall with a quiet thud.
Yohko was pressed against the wall, but not pinned. Her arms rested loose at her sides and for want to do, she snaked them around Ichigo’s chest, under his gi which he still wore. His skin was feverish, and she noticed the paradox of his sculpted back muscles versus the silkiness of the reaper garb.
Ichigo took Yohko’s invasive hands as permission to let his own fingers explore her body. She was muscley in the hips and thighs, her stomach flat and toned. His hand traced her neck, her shoulder, her arm, coming up her hip, her side…
The arm holes of Yohko’s striped nightwear were wide, and showed the side of her bosom, which the boy cupped. Yohko gasped. Ichigo pressed his thumb gently against her nipple; Yohko moaned.
This reaction spurred the reaper onward and he broke the kiss, inciting a disappointed whimper from the hunter which turned into another pleasured sound as he scratched his teeth along her neck, running his mouth along the shapes and smoothness of her skin. He could feel her pulse under his lips and it maddened him.
Yohko was panting heavily now, a toned leg cradling Ichigo’s hip, her calf rubbing his rear. He was taut and strained now, she could feel it, and he pressed his hips against her to show her just how aroused he was. The only thing keeping them apart was several layers of clothing.
Yohko was tepid and feeling very comfortable in her own skin, shifting in such ways that accented her femininity. Deep within her body, Yohko could feel an ache, something empty crying out to be met, to be touched. She yearned for Ichigo, not just any guy but truly Ichigo. She pulled him closer to her.
Ichigo curled his fingers around the bottom of the girl’s shirt and-…
“Wait!” Yohko breathed, eyes snapping open, fingers pressing into Ichigo’s back, calf muscle calming. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” he asked, looking down at her, his grey eyes still holding a tempest of lust in them.
“I must remain a vir-… pure of body and mind-… until I complete my training,” Yohko explained, guilt lacing her voice. “Otherwise I will lose my powers.”
He stepped out from the girl’s embrace, breathing heavily, calming himself. He nodded a bit disjointedly. “We need all the power we have to fight these demons and avenge my-…our families.”
“Ichigo,” Yohko held her ringed had to him. “That doesn’t mean we can’t touch at all.”
Madoka was the first one awake. First thing she did after her morning exercises was tiptoe into Ururu’s room to wake Yohko for the morning. She was displeased not to find Yohko in her temporary bed.
She was even more displeased when she did find Yohko, curled up around Ichigo, who was not wearing his top.
Her chest was to his bare back, their feet intertwined at the ankles.
Seething and disgusted, Madoka grabbed Yohko by the pigtails and yanked her from Ichigo and from sleep. The younger woman yelped and Ichigo awoke with a start, flipping to his feet and reaching out to Madoka’s hostage.
“What the hell were you two doing?!” Madoka demanded, holding a squirming Yohko in a headlock
“Nothingggk!” Choked Yohko.
“We didn’t do anything!” Ichigo insisted.
“Huh, right. You just like your mother huh? A shameless Jezebel eager to make it with the first incubus you see?”
“You’re crazy!” Ichigo yelled.
By now, everyone had been awakened by the drama and had come to see what the fuss was.
“Grand-mo-THER!” Barked Yohko, freeing herself from the headlock. “We just kissed, that’s all.”
“Yohko told me about the pureness thing.” Ichigo said, using elusive phrasing as to not embarrass Yohko too badly. “We just kissed and held each other. Honestly.”
Uruhara interrupted. “Mz. Mano, I know this boy really well. If nothing happened, then nothing happened.” He stepped into the room, walking over to Ichigo and gently clapping him on the shoulder, his beady eyes looking at Madoka from beyond a mess of dirty blonde bangs. “And I’m sure you trust your girl as much as I trust my boy?” He smiled.
Madoka growled, crossing her arms over her chest. She lofted her head with pride, before glaring at Ichigo, stabbing a finger into his bare chest, repeatedly. “Keep it in your pants, buddy. She’s got too much potential to screw it all away on some pointy, strawberry haired ronin wannabe. C’mon Yohko!”
“Where are we going, grandmother?” Yohko asked, following Madoka from the room.
“You’re having a shower,” Madoka commanded. “You’re dirty.”
As Madoka and Yohko made their way to the bathroom, the crowd dispursed.
“The beauty of young love.” Commented Tessai.
Rukia gave a questioning look at Ichigo, but said nothing, choosing to return to her room and ready herself for the day.
The kids began their chores
“Ichigo,” Urahara said, looking down at the boy. He gave a thin Cheshire grin, giving the young man a brotherly slap on the back. “Good job.” With that, he left Ichigo alone in his room.
“Nothing happened!” Ichigo yelled into the empty room.