(Author's Note: Not like this is the most fatal flaw of any pairing ever conceived. Anyway - I do not own Bleach, I'm just a writer of fan-fiction.)
In Case You Forget...
Hands gripped cloth, groping for the flesh beneath. Bodies writhed one on top of the other, lips meeting, tongues entwining. She gasped. He moaned. The robe fell from her shoulders, baring all.
And then he suddenly stopped. He was tense. He appeared more timid than she had expected him to be. "Are you okay?" she asked. She earnestly hoped it didn't have something to do with her chest. She was sensitive about that.
Ichigo rolled on his back, sighing and shaking his head. "It's not you, it's just that – I'm not ready."
Rukia sat up, pulling her shinigami robes back into place. "That's right – you're only fifteen," she said. "Sorry. Damn, I'm an idiot. I've been robbing the cradle and didn't even stop to think about it."
"Well," Ichigo said, scratched his head, looking up. "If you're robbing the cradle, I'm robbing the grave."
Rukia swung an incredulous gaze his direction. "You are robbing the grave. I'm dead, in case you forget."