“So, you’re feeling better?” Yoruichi asked once they arrived in the underground cavern. It felt a lot like the one where Ichigo had trained with Urahara.
“Yeah!” he said, facing her with a grin. He liked Yoruichi; she was a damned good fighter, and she was doing a lot to help him rescue Rukia. Plus, she didn’t bullshit around and waste his time. He could respect that. “Let’s get going!”
Her smile was like a knife edge; a flash of silver was the only warning he received before she was upon him. She pounced, knocking him to the ground and straddling him, using her body weight to prevent his escape.
But not in the way he expected; instead of dealing pain, her little hands were busily untying the knot to his hakama.
“WHAT?” he shouted, trying to squirm out from under her and slap her hands away at the same time. “What are you doing? Yoruichi!”
She frowned, brow knitting in concentration as she struggled with the knot. “There are many things that bottle up one’s power,” she muttered. “Judging from your reaction to me when I’m naked, you’re still a virgin. Ah, success!”
She flung open the sash and reached to lower the front panel of the hakama, but Ichigo grabbed her hands. He said not a word, but his face was a complex combination of horror, shock, and confusion.
“Anyone who spends an hour with you can tell you’re pent up,” she told him matter-of-factly. “With that sort of blockage, you’ll never achieve Bankai. You need to know yourself inside and out. Mysteries within your own mind will only get in your way.”
“But… but…” He sat up, staring down at her, and she remembered that was still only sixteen years old. Such a tender age… Yoruichi couldn’t remember what it felt like to be that young, to not have centuries of experience to draw upon, and she was struck once more with how extraordinary a boy Ichigo was.
“Listen, Ichigo,” Yoruichi said gently. “You probably have had ideas of saving it for someone special, of your first time being with a girlfriend you love or something, right?” His faint blush and increased glower were all the confirmation she needed. “But we don’t have time. Not for that, not for almost anything. We’ve got only three days to prepare you, and that means that anything that could get in the way has to go. Anything. Do you understand?”
She stared into his eyes, willing him to comprehend the importance of it. Boil it down, kid, she thought. Look at the big picture.
“If I don’t do this, we can’t save Rukia,” he said at last. At her nod, Ichigo compressed his lips and looked away. “Okay, then.”
Yoruichi was proud of him. He was going to be one hell of a man some day. “It won’t be that bad,” she said mischievously, her hands wandering down to his hakama again. “Or am I so repulsive?”
“No!” He almost shouted it, and she grinned more widely. “No,” he repeated more quietly, almost soberly. “You’re… you’re really pretty.” He was blushing again.
She peeled down the front panel, then his fundoushi, then raised her eyebrows. He might be just a kid, but he wasn’t badly equipped. This wasn’t going to be a chore for her, either.
“And my body, Ichigo?” she asked, almost purring as she trailed her fingertips over the flat expanse of his exposed abdomen and belly. “What about that? Did you like looking at me?”
He glanced back at her, scowling. “You know you’re beautiful,” he snapped. “Don’t go begging for—“
His breath sucked in on a noisy rasp, because her hand had just enclosed his cock.
“Hm?” she prodded absently, watching as it reached full erection almost immediately. “For what?”
Ichigo fell to propping himself up on his arms and hung his head back as he enjoyed the sensations she was creation in him. “Begging for compliments,” he finished finally, breathing hard.
She only smiled and released him. “Come on, get out of your clothes. Let’s get comfortable.” While he stripped, she fetched the blanket she’d brought expressly for this purpose and spread it out on the softest patch of ground in the area.
Ichigo, nude and aroused and standing awkwardly beside the blanket, looked oddly vulnerable and somehow even younger. Yoruichi felt more than slightly perverted for deflowering him in this way.
“Lay down,” she instructed, and waited until he was comfortably settled before beginning to remove her own kit. She was aware of his eyes, watching her, and her skin suddenly felt overly sensitized. The slide of fabric made every nerve spring to awareness, knowing that he was gazing at her with attraction and, she could see, desire. Her nipples hardened and a flash of heat speared down from her belly to between her legs.
“Do you know anything about a woman’s body, Ichigo?” she asked.
“Of course!” he blustered, looking away. “I’ve taken biology.” Yoruichi smiled and stretched out beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and sliding her knee up over his thigh.
“Consider this another, more intensive class,” she said, and drew his face down for a kiss.
He was utterly inexperienced and it showed; his lips and tongue mimicked hers a split second after she moved them, and she was surprised at how delightful this feeling of power was. For three days, he was hers. Hers to train, hers to perfect. She would teach him anything she wanted, and for the rest of his life, he would look back to this time.
Yoruichi was determined to make it one of the best of his memories. So she nibbled his lips, stroked his tongue with her own, and rubbed his chest and belly with her hand while sliding her knee up to brush his cock and balls.
After a little while, he brought one hand up to tangle in her hair and hold her head still while slanting his mouth more forcefully over her own. Gaining in confidence, he kissed her and moved his free hand to her breast, cupping it while rubbing his thumb over the stiff tip. Yoruichi moaned against his mouth and he rubbed and squeezed harder.
She pulled away from his kiss suddenly. “Your mouth,” she gasped. “Use your mouth.”
He was more than happy to oblige, and closed his lips over one nipple. At first, he only sucked, but when she used his hair to pull him closer, Ichigo began to use his teeth, worrying the hard bud of flesh until it stood up, swollen and tender. He lavished the same attention on the other and began to run a hand down her waist to her flank.
He was going slowly for her, Yoruichi could tell, and was touched in spite of herself. The quickness of his breath, however, and the jerky motions he was making with his hips told her he was getting close.
“Might as well take the edge off,” she said, tugging his hair to pull him away from her chest. She wrapped a hand around him and squeezed, feeling the eager throb of his pulse against her palm. Returning the favour, she took his nipple in her mouth and sucked at the same time as she ran a thumb over the damp head of his cock.
With a yelp he came, a warm jet of semen flying up then down. Two more spasms, and her hand and his groin were striped with white. Ichigo lay back, one arm draped over his eyes, and breathed hard.
Yoruichi reached out to the basket she’d set to the side and retrieved a soft cloth. She wiped them both, then smiled down at him. “Good?” she asked.
“You know the answer already,” he replied, one eye glaring out from under his arm.
“Wonder if we can make it better,” Yoruichi mused, and started to slither down the blanket toward his feet.
He frowned. “Better—huh? What--?” His words were choked off in shock when she took him in her mouth. “Oh, god,” he said, sounding most sincerely heartfelt.
Yoruichi settled comfortably between Ichigo’s legs and began to explore. She’d always enjoyed this act, and this time was no different; his size was not so great that it would make her jaw ache, and his reaction was enthusiastic enough to make her feel quite gratified, the way he was groaning and bucking up at her.
She ran her tongue under the ridge of the head, then flicked it at the tiny web of skin on the underside, and he whimpered. “Good?” she asked again, teasing.
“So good,” he replied, voice husky, and the sound of him lost in pleasure shot little bolts of desire through her chest. He was surprisingly sexy, and she was already quite wet even without being touched yet below her waist.
Which gave her an idea… reaching down, Yoruichi slipped her fingers between the folds of her sex, wetting them with her juices. The touch on her hard clitoris made her gasp harshly, and Ichigo sucked in a breath as well to see what she was doing to herself.
When her fingers were drenched, she withdrew them. “Relax,” she told Ichigo, and touched the tip of one against the tiny entrance to his body. “You’ll like this.”
Of course, he didn’t relax; he tensed right up and tried to lever himself away. Yoruichi took his flagging erection delicately between her teeth and pointedly glared up at him. He froze, then slowly lowered himself back to the blanket, though the muscles of his body stood out in stark relief.
She tried again, merely circling and rubbing. The slickness on her fingers made it easy, and soon one finger was able to slide in a little. Yoruichi sucked delicately on the head of his cock, teasing with her tongue, and when he hissed in pleasure, pressed her finger the rest of the way in.
It was very hot and tight inside him, and she was careful as she began to move in and out. It didn’t take long until he was hard once more and beginning to thrust into her mouth. Yoruichi decided it was time for finger number two, and began to press that inside. He twitched a little, but momentary application of her teeth once more had him letting her do what she wanted, and this time he only softened a tiny bit, easily remedied.
Mindful of his virginity and the tenderness of the area, she refrained from much thrusting and concentrated on finding that special spot inside. When she did, it was as if an electric current passed through Ichigo; he quivered, giving a strangled cry of shock.
“Oh god,” he said again, and began to work himself in a confused rhythm, not quite knowing how to thrust into her mouth as well as down onto her fingers but wanting to, desperately. She rubbed the spot a little harder, sucked more strongly on his cock, and rolled his balls in her free hand. With a hoarse shout, he bucked and came copiously down her throat.
He tasted a little salty, a little bitter, and Yoruichi nursed on him until he flopped back, utterly limp. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her thumb and began to crawl up his body, laying full-length upon him and grinning down at his flushed, sated face.
“So, did that teach you to trust me when I say something?” she asked, feeling both cheerful and turned on.
Ichigo opened bleary eyes. She expected another rude comment, or even just tired acquiescence, so was surprised when he reached to cup her head and kiss her. His tongue explored her mouth thoroughly, and she realized he was tasting himself in her. He was a surprisingly sensual creature, she realized, and was going to be a sexual powerhouse when he was an adult.
A pang of remorse, that she would not be the one to experience it, made itself known, but Yoruichi quickly brushed it away. Pointless to get proprietary with this kid, she told herself sternly. After this was over, it was back to being mentor and apprentice. She might never see him again after these three days; hell, he might even die. That she was over ten times his age didn’t help matters, either.
No, no, best to just keep moving on what had to be done, get it over with, and progress to the rest of the Bankai training.
She pulled away, smiling a little. “Are you ready for the next lesson?”
Ichigo grinned lazily up at her. “Sure am, sensei.” His face, relaxed and happy, made her feel a moment’s urge to cry. Yoruichi drew herself up to kneel over him, biting the side of her tongue to keep her composure. “It’s time to return the favour,” she told him. “Feeling up to it?”
His eyes flicked down to her sex, then back to her face. “Thought you’d never ask,” he drawled, startling a laugh out of her.
“Cocky,” she admonished, and moved until she was positioned over his face. “Listen carefully, Ichigo,” she began. “Bring your hands up, and use your thumbs to—yes, just like that.” He hadn’t needed to be told what to do, had spread her open before she could finish. “Use your tongue to—oh! Yes!”
Her hips jerked at the sensation of his wet, soft tongue running up the inside of her inner lips. It had been a long time since she’d experienced this pleasure, and she could hardly believe how aroused she was. By Ichigo, by his actions.
“At the top,” she said, her voice thin and strained, “there’s a hard nub… that’s very important.”
He dragged his tongue along the satin flesh, just skimming the line of hair at the outer edge, before coming to prod lightly at her clit. Yoruichi found herself reaching down, threading her fingers in his brilliant hair to tug him closer.
Then he darted his tongue under the hood of it, flickering like a flame, and pleasure burst within Yoruichi in white-hot waves.
“There, there,” she crooned, pulsing herself against his mouth in short little jerks of her pelvis, and would have collapsed onto his head if he hadn’t caught her waist. Ichigo moved Yoruichi to lay over him again, and her legs fell around him as her head slumped to his chest.
“Good?” he asked, sounding more than a little smug, and she managed a feeble thump to his shoulder with a fist.
“Cocky,” she muttered.
“Yes, actually.” He arched a little, and she felt the long column of his shaft stroke between her thighs in a hot caress. Her release had made her wetter than ever, and she could feel how her juices were drenching him, making his strokes against her frictionless and slick.
Amazingly, even after such a strong climax, Yoruichi felt a spark build within her once more. She made to reach down in order to position him but he stopped her.
“No, let me.” Ichigo grasped the cheeks of her bottom and adjusted her so she was positioned right. Then he took himself in hand and rubbed the head of his cock between her legs, sliding back and forth until he found the notch where he needed to be.
He was going so slowly, it was as if he were prolonging the moment, and Yoruichi could admit there was a delicious suspense to it all but she was rapidly losing her patience. Shifting back, she began to drive herself down onto him, biting her lip at the first stretch of muscle and flesh as she took him in. There was nothing like the first moments of penetration, nothing at all, and her eyes fluttered closed in utter enjoyment.
His hands on her waist gripped tightly, and Yoruichi thought she might have bruises tomorrow, but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Oh, god,” Ichigo whispered. His eyes were closed, too, and his face held an expression of such beatific delight that Yoruichi felt a pleased little glow of satisfaction and pride that she could bring this moment to him.
“How does it feel?” she asked him, lifting up on her hands up so her weight pressed him more deeply inside.
“Hot, tight, wet… hot.” His eyes, when he opened them, were glazed. “I didn’t think anything could be better than your mouth, but…” His words trailed away. “How does it feel for you?”
Yoruichi took a deep breath, taking a mental cataloguing of the sensations rippling through her body. “I feel full,” she said at last. “Deliciously full, like I’ve eaten the best meal of my life and will never be hungry again.”
She sat up, looking down at him in wonder. His hands came up to cup her breasts, his fingers pulling on her nipples until they stood out stiffly. She raised up, feeling the dragging pull as he left her, then the push and pressure as he returned.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” she continued softly. “You’re so hard and thick in me, spreading me open, and when you pull out, it feels like I’ll die if you don’t come back.”
“I think I’ll die if I don’t, too,” Ichigo groaned. “I could stay in you forever.”
Yoruichi had to laugh at that. She felt happy, felt lighthearted and at ease in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Youth will do that for you, she thought, even if it weren’t her own.
He sat up suddenly, surprising her so she almost fell off his lap. “I want to kiss you.”
His face was intense, and she felt a flicker of worry. This couldn’t become anything more than what it was—a master teaching her apprentice what he needed to know in order to improve.
“Yes, kiss me,” she found herself saying, most rashly, and took his mouth with her own, parting his lips with her tongue and driving in to taste him, to experience her own taste on him. He gripped her waist and began to move her up and down on him, and they drank each other’s moans of pleasure as he slid in and out.
She felt the tension within her tighten and grow, felt the onset of a dark rapture that made her breath come hard and her fingers to tighten on his shoulders. Beneath her, he was straining, both lifting and dropping her and arching his hips, and she felt the need to have him cover her.
Yoruichi pushed until he lay flat, then pulled until he rolled them over. His weight over her, his body between her thighs, his face looming over her own, sent shocks of bone-deep delight through her. She wrapped her legs high around his waist and urged him with a roll of the pelvis to greater speed.
“Fuck me,” she breathed into his mouth, kissing him lusciously. “Ichigo, fuck me!”
And he did. Head buried in the curve of her neck, he slid an arm under her waist and gathered her up even closer, tilting her hips so he could lunge harder, faster into her. Pleasure was a thread that pulled tighter, tautening and lengthening, until finally it snapped and they both spun out of control. Yoruichi yowled like the cat she was, and Ichigo’s shout almost deafened her.
Yoruichi stared blindly up at the false sky above, her mind floating on the receding waves of ecstasy. She relished the feel of his skin, slick with sweat, against hers, the rasp of his leg hair against her smooth skin, the searing heat of his gasps as he panted against her throat and ear. His hair curled damply around her entangled fingers, and his cock slowly softened within the clutching confines of her body.
“Is it…” He raised his head and fixed her with a bleary gaze. “Is it always like that?”
She froze. The honest answer was ‘no’, it wasn’t always like that. Sometimes it was awkward, or boring, when nothing seemed to go right and the whole thing was more trouble than it was worth. But she couldn’t very well tell him that; there was a light in his eyes that spoke of tender feelings, of a possessiveness that, alarmingly, Yoruichi was actually enjoying the sight of.
This is impossible, she told herself severely. It had never been anything else. I have to train him now, this strong, brave boy, and then he has to go fight Byakuya and god knows who else, and then he goes home and I turn back into a cat and…
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s always like that.” She pushed at his shoulders, indicated she wanted to get up. “No, don’t kiss me againmff.”
Ichigo’s mouth was hot and demanding on hers, his tongue sweeping in to taste and explore her thoroughly. Already, he was an accomplished kisser, having assimilated her lessons to perfection; he knew just how to curl his tongue around hers, how to run it leisurely over her palate, not enough to tickle, just to tantalize. Yoruichi felt her toes curl, and her fist thumped ineffectually against his chest.
“You’re a damned liar,” he informed her, not without a touch of smugness when the kiss was over. “Do you think I can’t tell?”
She pounded his shoulder again; this time he acquiesced, moving off to lay by her side. His soft cock slid out, and she felt a warm trickle of his semen and her own juices begin to seep out. “Hand me another cloth,” she growled, pointing to the basket.
He rolled away to grab it, and she watched, admiring his lithe form, against her will. When he rolled back, Yoruichi tried to take the cloth but he wouldn’t let her, insisting on using it to wipe her clean himself. His big, bony hands were gentle on her, touching her almost reverently, and her throat closed up
“So, I bet the reason you’re acting all weird is because you’re about to tell me that now this is done, we can’t ever touch each other again, and blah blah blah, right?” He tossed the cloth away and propped his head on his hand, looking down at her with a smirk he wanted to slap (or kiss, couldn’t decide which) off his face.
“Yes, that’s pretty much it,” Yoruichi replied through clenched teeth. “Do I need to count off the reasons why?”
“Sure, go ahead.” His lazy, negligent manner was starting to really annoy her.
“First, I’m supposed to be teaching you. This was only an educational experience, nothing more.” She stuck one finger out of her curled fist to punctuate her points. To her alarm, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of the digit. “Second, um, I’m much older than you. Much.”
A kiss was placed on the next finger as well. Yoruichi swallowed thickly. “Uh, third, you’re really young. I think young enough to be illegal, actually.” Kiss. His lips were warm and soft, and she suspected there was something wrong with her internal organs, because it felt like they were all melting.
“Fourth,” she continued, determined but wavering, “you have to go home when this is all over, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I might stay here, and would you stop kissing me?” There was a note of desperation in her voice when she snatched her hand away from his mouth, rubbing her fingers with her other hand to dispel the still-felt sensation of its caress.
Ichigo was quiet a moment before sitting up and presenting her with his back. “If you don’t like me enough, you should just tell me,” he snapped. “I’m not a coward. I can take it.” Over his shoulder, he flashed her an absolutely poisonous glare from under lowered brows.
She tried to be angry with him, really really tried, but his face was so unguarded and confused and miserable that she just couldn’t manage it. Grabbing his face, she kissed him hard, and her heart leapt when he responded immediately. He tasted bright, as bright as his hair and proud spirit, and Yoruichi kept her hands on his cheeks, cupping them gently when she pulled back at last.
“I like you plenty,” she admitted, resting her forehead against his, and looked deeply into his eyes. She needed him to understand this. “But those reasons I told you were the truth. No matter how I like you doesn’t mean anything. I’ve lived almost two hundred years, Ichigo. You’re barely sixteen. We don’t really know each other. What kind of relationship could we have, really? You have a life; how would I fit into it? I go off for long periods of time; would you be okay with me leaving you for ten years while I was away?”
She was making sense to him; she could see it in his eyes. He was beginning to see the futility of wanting anything other than what could be. “Don’t you want a normal life, Ichigo? It will be hard enough, being a shinigami as you are. You’ll never be an average person. But don’t you want to go on dates and spend time with friends your own age instead of with a girlfriend two centuries old?”
He looked away, but she saw his acceptance of her logic. “Okay,” he said softly. “I understand.” Getting to his feet, he made his way to the pile of his clothing, and began to dress. The awkwardness from when he’d stripped was gone completely; he moved with a grace lacking in self-consciousness and Yoruichi had to smile a bittersweet smile at the knowledge that she was the one who had changed him in this little way. He was further along the way to being a man, and it was thanks to her.
She stood, too, and pulled her own clothing on, then shook the blanket and folded it, determined to ignore the ache in her chest. When they turned back to each other, she was struck by the solemn maturity on his features, and decided to allow herself one last indulgence.
Stepping up to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself close. “You were very good,” she told him, tilting her head back to look at him. “For a first time, you were amazing.”
He leaned down and kissed her softly, moving his lips against hers almost chastely. “Thanks,” he replied when it was over. “You were amazing, too. I’ll always remember it.” And he detached her arms from around him, and stepped back. “It’s time, isn’t it? I want to get Bankai before the three days is up.”
Yoruichi nodded, the motion of her head jerky. He truly was an extraordinary creature. “Yes,” she agreed. “Better get to work.”