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18 October 2007 @ 01:39 am
Taint it Black  
So here's another departure from the norm, rather than IchiRuki, this one's ShirosakiXRukia, done for the challenge comm of 10_whores, a comm where you choose one character and write 10 fics, each one pairing them with a different character. Hope it meets with expectations~

Title: Taint it Black
Character: Kuchiki Rukia
Pairing: Shirosaki(Hollow!Ichigo)XRukia
Author: tasogaretaichou
Rating: R
Prompt: Pandora's Box
Warnings: A bit risque towards the end, but nothing too graphic.
Summary: When the Hollow finally breaks free, can hope be found amidst the horrors of Pandora's box?

His laugh was chilling, a high-pitched and shrill sound that seemed to seep into her very bones. Small fingers tightened around the stark white hilt, silk wrapping tinged with the faintest dusting of crimson. A finger, cut by shards of ice that had flown when the pillar broke, toppled under the weight of his reiatsu and the fury of his power.

It had been foolish, perhaps, to think that she would be a match for him, could ever be a match for him. His was an unholy power, even in it’s natural form, that form she had grown to know and trust. And now, now when it was untamed, unleashed, in all it’s unbridled rage, she was as a reed in the flood. Crushed and drowned by the deluge. Frowning, Rukia shook the thoughts from her head. No, now was not the time for introspection and thought. Now was the time for survival. Not only for herself, but for Ichigo as well.

Reaching within herself, she sought to quell the faint trembling that wavered up from the core of her being, spreading outward in waves, the pristine blade of Sode no Shirayuki shaking with a barely noticeable tremor as she held it out, point leveled at her foe, white ribbon curling softly around her in the night’s breeze, chilled further by the ice drifting on the wind, testament to her last attacks.

Perhaps in a way, she’d always known this day would come, that a time would arrive when control would be lost, caution thrown to the wayside as she faced down not the enemy which had painted itself onto her mind in the last years, but a face distorted and twisted by corrupt power, by that which was in itself darkness, will and instinct combined apart from reason, all formed into the seamless white mask that continued to form slowly on his face, chips of bone appearing as smoke from the reiatsu.

Black and gold eyes regarded her with a cold malice, tinged with madness and the barest hint of something else, something she knew and yet didn’t know, afraid to admit to herself, to entertain the notion of what her inner self recognized. Lust, desire, and not of the tender and warm variety. No, rather this was a cold heat, a chilling, possessive, burning need to dominate, to control and destroy in depraved indifference. A Pandora’s box of fury and rage and power, unleashed finally upon the world.

It should have been easy, should have been simple to rationalize what needed to be done. He had lost his control, lost the tremulous hold he kept over the Hollow, over the inner darkness which had so often threatened to consume him, and now it was loosed upon this place, with only her meager blade and paltry skills standing in the way. In truth, the shinigami had never felt so helpless before as she did now, watching the face of one she cared for, one she could dare say she loved yet again twist itself into this vicious mockery of familiarity, lips drawing back from teeth in a malevolent sneer that dripped of cruelty and corruption.

Leveling the white blade, she swung it’s length, ribbon’s rustling the only sound somehow, although that made no sense – it wasn’t quiet, there were other battles going on, other things occurring – and yet even in that silence broken only by the rippling silk, she could hear the thunder of her heart, hear it crying out against her actions, against that stone-cold resolution that drove her, pushed her, reminded her that she was shinigami first, woman second, that her priorities should be his neutralization, not the thoughts of a solution, an answer, a path to freedom.

He was faster than her, that wasn’t something she doubted. Even in his normal state, mind unclouded by the Hollow, it was plain and simple fact that he far outstripped her where speed was concerned. It was that very speed which had allowed him to defeat her brother in what seemed like another lifetime ago. Narrowing violet eyes at the spector in front of her, she held out her blade, answering Zangetsu’s silent challenge.

“I can’t let you stay this way, Ichigo…”

Eyes crinkled and mouth opened in a sneer that quickly turned into another of those high-pitched, mocking laughs as his hand gripped the cleaver, hefting it onto his shoulder as he twisted his wrist, winding the smooth linen of the hilt wrap around his palm. With a jerk, the blade was airborne, spinning overhead like a deadly buzz-saw, whirring hum intensifying as his hand pivoted faster, falling in time with the maddening chuckle issuing forth from his lips.

“Oh? And what makes you think he has anything to say in the matter, hmmm~?”

Settling back on his heels, black and yellow eye peering out through porcelain white and red mask, the hint of madness held therein was in itself a mocking contrast to the flash of gold on one finger as his free hand slid up to plow through orange hair, mouth drawing into a sneer as he let fly the blade, gleaming black metal singing through the air with a deadly hiss to crash into the ground she had only just been inhabiting.

Biting back a hiss as the impact jarred an already injured shoulder, Rukia had no time to react before he was there, behind her, one arm winding around her shoulders, fingers digging into her throat as his grip tightened, his other hand digging Zangetsu’s tip into the concrete with hardly a thought. Biting back a whimper at the tightness of his grip, she concentrated her energy on her breathing. Had to breathe, had to stay conscious. It was the only way she’d ever have a chance now…

With a smirk and a malicious hissing laugh, he leaned foreward, running the tip of his tongue along the side of her neck and up her cheek, grinning in sadistic glee at the shudder that passed unbidden through her frame. Sliding his hand up from her throat to grip her chin with bruising force, he turned her head to look at him, black and yellow gaze boring into her violet one with a sneer.

“What’s wrong, dear? Aren’t you going to welcome your husband home? I’ve been gone such a very long time, you must have missed me.”

The petite shinigami felt the bile rise in her throat, the revulsion as his tongue slid along her skin. It was hard, so hard not to let his words bite, to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm – because he was bound to get even worse if she didn’t – and yet still hold onto the little bit of control that she had. Snarling, she raised her chin as best as she could despite his bruising grip on her face.

You are not my husband. You are nothing but a shadow of what he is, unable to even exist on your own. Nothing but a parasite.”

The only sign that she had piqued his ire was the tightening of his fingers on her chin, coupled with the faint cracking sound as bone gave way under the pressure. She bit down hard on her tongue, tasting blood as jawbones screamed in abused protest as they cracked, fractures pressing open as he pushed harder. Choking on the scream that welled up, she resolutely pushed it down, knowing it was what he wanted. No, she wouldn’t give him that.

He kept up the pressure for another moment or two, eyes never leaving hers, as though measuring the tension within hers, trying to gauge when she would break. Trailing lips down the side of her neck, he bit down, wrenching her neck painfully to the side to sink teeth into pale skin, wanting to mar, to sully, to see that same pale flesh stained red with blood.

“I think you’re mistaken. King isn’t in control right now, darling. It’s only me. But…”

His hand slipped off of Zangetsu to rest on her shoulder for a moment, fingertips sliding down over her collarbone and further to glide over the swell of her breast, pushing black fabric aside to slip in and trace over soft curves. His smirk widened at the way she stiffened, revulsion crying out from every pore of her skin as his hand cupped itself over flesh, thumb rubbing against a nipple for a moment before the offending appendage was withdrawn to continue it’s slow path down her torso.

“Maybe we can compromise…”

Reaching her waist, fingertips rested there for a moment before sliding around to her hip, gliding down over her hipbone to slip into the side of her hakama, the way she shuddered away from him – as much as she was trying not to – only serving to heighten the rush, the thrill of control.

“Will you go away if I agree?”

Her voice was hurried, strained, drawn tight as she forced her mind away from his hand, from the stroking touch of his fingers, so alike and yet unlike the touch she was used to, a dark perversion of everything she trusted, enough to make the nausea rise in her throat again, not only at him but at the fact that she knew her own body would still manage to betray her, recognizing the touch even when it wasn’t him. Not really, at least.

His hand stilled for a moment, yellow and black eyes narrowing with a low chuckle that vibrated with malice and lust. He knew as well as she did that her agreement mattered little in this. He was the stronger, he could take what he wanted as easily as he could kill her. It was the dominance, the control, forcing her to submit, to swallow pride and hatred and disgust that he craved. The power. Dragging tongue along her neck again, he bit down on the shell of her ear with a low growl.

“Of course… Once I’ve had my fun, I’ll let King back out.”

Swallowing her disgust and steeling herself against the inevitability – it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d agreed to it or not, he was just toying with her anyway – she simply nodded once. An affirmation, agreement. “Done.”

At least she knew that he would keep his word. How she knew, she honestly wouldn’t have been able to say, but somehow… she just knew. The same way that she knew the only way to make her way safely through this smoldering hive of chaos was to cling to the one thing left when Pandora’s box unleashed it’s horrors. To cling to the last ray of hope.
Psyche: pleasedpleased
Neko-taichoutasogaretaichou on October 19th, 2007 02:01 am (UTC)
Heh, nice to know. And yes, I have been on a roll, and it feels SO good~