A/N: Bleach and its characters are not mine.

The two characters here are probably very seldom linked in fanfic, so this is just off the top of my head.

Review if you disliked it, liked it, hated it or loved it thanks in advance!



He studied her movements as she let down her hair.

Her slim fingers flashed as they tucked errant tendrils in behind her ears and smoothed down strands clinging to her fingers. Every strand in its proper place.

He observed how she polished and folded her glasses before putting them on to the table, parallel to her hair grip.

"What are you doing?"

No endearments, no teasing, just a matter-of-fact question. She turned to look at him.

He smiled lazily. "I was wondering why you can remain so poised even when you're naked."

Her gaze flickered over him. "And I wonder why you can remain so calm even when your wrists are tied over your head."

"It's a skill." He smirked appreciatively as she sashayed to the bed and then ran a manicured nail – painted flaming red, just for him, just for tonight – from the base of his throat to the base of his manhood. "You do know I can break out of this, don't you?"

"I also know you don't want to." She climbed on the bed and straddled him, her hands now splayed on his lean but well-muscled chest. "Do you?"

Their first kiss of the night was a chaste, demure one, lips merely brushing, pressing, separating.

He bent his knees so she could lean back.

She let her hair wash over his scarred face as she traced the thin choker tattoo with her lips.

He held back his need as she seductively writhed over him.

She made sure to kiss him in all his sensitive spots, and then proceeded to discover new ones with her fingers and tongue.

He restrained himself from tearing free of his bonds, his biceps straining.

She opened her mouth to take him in, then, with an increasingly fast rhythm, slid him in and out of her mouth.

He moaned.

She hummed.

He almost lost his mind when she placed feathery licks up and down the underside of his shaft, then sucking on his sac.

She slid a hand between her own legs, wishing he could have his hands free.

He grunted as she kissed and licked up his lean form again, her lips closing about each nipple and sucking.

She made sure she held on when she turned about to give his mouth access to her wetness.

He took in her unique scent, his tongue playing over her clit.

She whimpered when he stopped, but knew it was her cue.

He swore softly when she lowered herself over him, far too slowly.

She hissed and threw her head back in pleasure when, in one long smooth motion, she was riding him fully.

He thrust his hips upwards.

She ground into him downwards.

His breathing was now labored.

Her breasts glistened with sweat.

He told her to touch herself as she met each buck and each thrust.

She obeyed, her smoldering gaze beneath long lashes driving him over the edge.

He was incoherent, swearing at her heat, her warmth, her scent...

She cried out softly when he bucked so hard she almost fell forward, her hands skidding on his chest, their essences mingling.

He could not stop.

She was not letting him stop.

His fingers and toes curled and relaxed and curled again.

She locked lips with him, her tongue submitting fully to his domination in her mouth.

He felt her choked cry rather than heard it, as he climaxed within her.

She gripped him so hard her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood and leaving little weals in their wake.

He could feel her hot breath on his bare shoulder.

She was trying to school her emotions; the words must not be uttered.

He groaned with loss when she moved off him, but sighed again when she burrowed against his aching shoulder.

Fleetingly she wondered if they could go public about their affair.

Briefly he cursed himself for swearing to Kyoraku-taichou that he'd never lay a hand on her.