Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or concepts from Bleach.

Author's Notes: I originally posted this little blip to my Tumblr under the IchiRuki tag, just in case it looks familiar. It's itty-bitty short and I don't think it technically counts as an 'M', but honestly, who reads 'T' fanfiction nowadays? This will probably end up as a one-shot collection, though I hesitate to post that publicly!

Important to note: I am neither a physicist nor an electrician. Scientific mentions may not be entirely accurate. Please be kind and suspend your disbelief. Thank you.

"Reiatsu is like water, Ichigo."

"At times it can be dense and fluid, like liquid." She uses this principle to attempt to drown him when she is frustrated or angry or impatient. It can flood a room in moments, bursting forth from a tiny black-haired geyser, or it can trickle slowly, streaming gently from a delicate blue-eyed spring. It can be choppy and agitated, red-flag waves between two stubborn individuals, or smooth and tranquil, two partners reveling in a moment of shared peace.

"At times it can be vaporous and billowing, like gas." Their squabbles are the textbook example of this phenomenon - two super-heated boilers, gauges constantly in the red, whistles screaming and warning lights glaring, and only they are capable of withstanding the constant over-pressurization of the atmosphere.

"At times it can be firm and unyielding, like a solid." It is the path on which they run through the sky. It is her dance partner. It is his armor. It begins harsh and unrefined, opaque power and sharp edges. With time and training it becomes smooth and delicate, crystalline finesse and elegant lines.

"In a sense, reiatsu follows the laws of physics. For thousands of years, its behavior has been predicable, logical, simple."

But then there is Ichigo. And he is the exception to the states of matter. If reiatsu is water to everyone else, to Ichigo it is raw electricity, surging across neural power lines.

Even now, streaks of his spiritual electricity arcing over her skin like lightning bolts, causing her hips to buck and her hair to stand on end and her toes to curl and her breath to catch - she cannot understand it.

Everywhere his fingers-hands-lips touch tingles.

Kissing him is like licking a battery - a jolt in all the right places.

He always tastes like a combination of metal, ozone and mint - same as the air during an electrical storm.

He feels like a lightning rod in her arms - warm and unmovable and vibrating with power.

And when they fit together - it is like a circuit completing.

A low hum of energy fills her ears and his reiryoku fills her veins, charging her up, starting from their intimate connection and pulsing up and out. She feels invincible and vulnerable all at once. He is high-voltage, high-ampacity, high-conductivity - she is low-resistivity.

Soon, but not nearly soon enough - he blows all the fuses and trips the breaker, his power surging through her and overloading every thought. She is blinded by a shower of sparks, sobs her pleasure as he groans against her throat - both panting heavily as the arc flashes fade to aftershocks. She gasps his name and clenches small hands in his hair, he presses a string of kisses along her collarbone and murmurs something she cannot hear but understands.

It makes sense, she thinks hazily, as he lifts his head, meets her eyes evenly, intensely. The term electricity describes a collection of phenomena.

Kurosaki Ichigo's very existence defies the laws of spiritual matter; he is a walking collection of phenomena. He polarizes everyone - a positive force for change, a power unlike anything her world has ever known.

He breaks the circuit and pulls her into his arms, she willingly curling into his side. Though this in itself is another circuit completing - she fits alongside him so neatly.

They have not broken eye contact, and she watches a glowing blue haze tinge the honey brown of his eyes, feels his energy skitter over her skin like failed arc suppression.

They grin together; she closes her eyes and luxuriates in the pleasant tingles.

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