Title: The King and his Horse
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Ichigo/Rukia, Hollow!Ichigo/Rukia
Rating: Hard R.
Word Count: 1,081
Summary/Description: Dreams crumble like walls of sanity. Balance is shaky, fear is a necessity. (He feels like a broken monarch who cannot hold on to the reins of his stallion.)
Warning/Spoilers: Sex, strong language, dark themes, rape (sorry). No spoilers, unless you only follow the anime, and not the manga at all. And even then, I doubt there's anything to be spoilt.
A/N: Day 12: Bondage. The date for this prompt was July 15th; Ichigo's birthday. LOL, I sure don't know how to write a happy birthday fic. Because this ain't happy. Poor Ichigo. Please heed the rating and warnings. Also: this is the third time I am writing porn for this thing. Woot.
Disclaimer: Yes, I have several bottles beneath the sink.


The landscape is pale and grim, devoid of buildings or landmarks or anything to distinguish it, set it apart from the ashen grey tundra that it becomes. A lot of things about this place have changed.

Rukia's screams colour the air.

"Let her go, you fucking bastard!" Ichigo roars, the words ripping and bleeding their way out of his throat. Sweat runs down his brow and into his eyes, mixing with the tears that he refuses to shed. "I'll fucking kill you if you don't let her go right fucking now!"

The hollow turns away from where he is ravaging Rukia's breasts with his teeth and tongue, and it turns Ichigo's stomach, to see that disgusting, hateful leer on his face.

"Now, how're ya gonna do that?" it asks in a casual drawl, chuckling as it eyes the bonds that tie Ichigo steadfastly to the pole. Ichigo growls, and fights against them even more, trying in vain to free himself. His inner counterpart derives much amusement from his actions, and it only makes Ichigo's blood boil even hotter. "'Sides," the hollow continues, turning back to its captive, running its white fingers down her bare stomach, and into the tangle of curls that cover her sex, "I think she likes it."

Ichigo's scream of rage rings out in unison with Rukia's scream of pain, and both make the hollow chortle gleefully. Ichigo can see the bastard's fingers moving roughly in and out of her, see how her face contorts in discomfort and pain, almost feel the tears that stream down her face, and he has never felt this livid, or powerless in his entire life.

The hollow's laugh is dirty and ugly as it unzips its pants and takes out its penis. Ichigo thrashes even more wildly, tears beginning to slip out of his eyes and unto his cheeks, his yells of anger and desperation making his throat raw. His bonds cut into his wrists, but he cannot feel the pain; all he can feel is hers.

"Don't see why ya so upset," his double says conversationally, rubbing spit along its phallus, and positioning itself between Rukia's thighs. The tiny Shinigami is sobbing soundlessly and Ichigo's heart is shattering, shattering. "If she's yours, she's mine, ne?"

"NO!" he practically screeches, teeth bared, and blood thrumming just under his skin. He struggles to get free, struggles with all his might, but it is no use. He feels like a broken monarch who cannot hold on to the reins of his stallion.

"Aww, didn't anyone ever tell you that you should share?" the hollow enquires mockingly, and looks Ichigo straight in the eye when it thrusts in one quick, clean motion.

Twin screams of anguish rent the air.


Dreams crumble like walls of sanity.


Rukia does not ask why when Ichigo suddenly rolls over and pulls her into his arms; she simply wraps her arms around his chest, and allows him to stroke her back, breathing heavily into the darkness of her hair.

And when he turns her onto her back and pulls at her clothing, she understands.

Despite his frantic actions, he is gentle, hands touching her as if she is porcelain. His fingertips brush her nipples to peaks, and she gasps into his shoulder, the sensation taking over her. And when he bends to take them into his mouth, rubbing his tongue over the hardened tips, she keens and writhes, moaning out her pleasure. Pleading words fall from her lips like petals, and she is not sure whether she is asking him to stop or continue.

He sheds the rest of their clothes with a barely controlled hand, while the other trails its way between her thighs to caress her, torture her sweetly. Both her eyes and her legs clamp shut tightly as she bites her lips in an effort to keep from crying out. Her hips sway of their own accord, rocking against his hand, seeking out friction. Meanwhile, his mouth has moved up to her own to kiss her into a heady whirl of abandon.

When he slides into her, she raises her hips to meet him, driving him in deeper. They both groan, and it is like everything that they are missing has come back to them, like they are finally complete after years of being devoid of that which they need. Ichigo sets up a slow, steady rhythm, and she follows willingly, loving the way he fills her, as if it goes beyond the physical, as if he is pouring all of his emotions into her. She feels the familiar warmth in her loins growing and building and burning, twisting inside of her, and spreading like a wildfire, until it crashes down upon her in waves and waves of ecstasy. Not too long after, he follows, emptying himself with a loud, long groan of satisfaction.

They hold each other for a long time afterwards, not saying a word (not having to). She threads her fingers through his hair as his breathing gradually slows down. They are both warm and sticky, but it feels pleasant to lay together like this, close and without the barrier of clothes, almost as if they are melding into one another.

Her chin is resting on his shoulder, so she cannot see his face, but she does not need to; she knows that his demons still chase him behind his closed lids. His dreams are frequent, each more gruesome and disturbing than the last. He tells her about them, but only in sparing detail, keeping the worst to himself.

Ichigo is the King; they both know that. After all this time he has finally built the mental and physical fortitude to keep the monster inside of him under control. He has not however, stripped the hollow of its powers, and it will continue to visit and torment him in his dreams until Ichigo destroys it, or vice versa.

"You're mine," he says suddenly and softly, voice raspy. "And I am yours."

"Yes," she replies, choking a little, and it serves to comfort more than it does to affirm. "No one else's."

She wishes that she could offer him more comfort than that, but she knows all too well what he is afraid of; what he has to fear, despite all the progress that he has made. And though she loathes to admit it, deep down, a part of her is afraid too.


Any good rider, any good king, eventually becomes one with his horse.
A/N: This is one of the darkest things I've ever written (at least in terms of sexual activity). I normally stay away from non-con, and hollow!Ichigo has never really interested me, but I thought I'd try it out.

(Also: whoo hoo! I'm done! I'm pretty proud of myself for finishing this challenge, since I have never to date EVER finished any series that I'm writing, unless you count Notes. I fail.)

Last of all, thank you all so much for following this series, and reading, whether you commented or not. It always makes to happy to have people read and like my stuff. Much love to everyone who commented; it seriously makes me happy to hear what you guys think. You're invaluable! (: Thanks a lot, guys. See you next time around. :D