I don't own Bleach; however, I do own the concept of the story from which this one-shot branches. If you haven't read Shelter from the Storm yet, I would advise you do so, and not just because I'm a review-whore. Though this can stand alone, there's a lot in it which references back to the original fic.

Warning: This little addendum contains some heavy hetero smut. If that's not your thing, stop now before you scar yourself. If it is your thing, by all means read on.

Oh, and...strange as it is to say this, don't consider this part of the "canon" of the story. It's only a possibility that could happen; not something set in stone. Sort of...fanfiction within fanfiction. Right. On with the fic.

It was late that night, after Yachiru had toddled off to her new bed and the eleventh division had mostly drunk themselves into oblivion, that Kuukaku decided to retire for the evening. The celebrations of Zaraki's captaincy had lasted for most of the afternoon and well into the night, and Kuukaku had just finished packing up the remains of her fireworks, along with her payment for entertainment services. It felt nice to be commissioned, and she was celebrating with a smoke on her way to the second division: Yoruichi had provided her with a temporary room until she returned to the Shiba household. Kuukaku didn't really want to get back in a hurry; she knew what Yoruichi and her sly twelfth-division friend were up to.

And so she deliberately took the long route through the eleventh division, stepping over the passed-out squad members and ignoring the few drunken catcalls from those who were still lucid enough to recognize a female form. She'd made it halfway across the training grounds when she was halted by a gruff "Oi."

Looking around the darkened space, she spotted Zaraki sitting on the steps of the main building's porch, a bottle and bowl of sake beside him. He was wearing his new eyepatch from Urahara: it gave him a particularly rakish look, and amused Kuukaku to no end.

"Didn't see you there," she commented, making her way over. "That eyepatch is pretty good. I mean, I felt your reiatsu, but you mighta been a mile away for all I knew."

"Yeah," the Kenpachi scratched at the side of his head, where one of the bands ran around. "Makes me feel kinda lightheaded, but that might be the sake." He grinned. "The stuff they have here is pretty good; yer cat friend was right."

Kuukaku leaned against one of the posts which kept the roof up. "Most of the stuff in Rukongai is moonshine," she commented, bringing out her own bottle and dish. "It's been ages since I've tasted this stuff."

"What, haven't you been drinkin' yet tonight?" Zaraki looked up at her with a smirk.

"I've been doing the fireworks, stupid," she scowled, depositing her bag at the foot of the steps and sitting beside him. "Alcohol and explosives don't mix."

"'s that how you lost yer arm?"

Kuukaku froze; Zaraki waited expectantly for her answer. Didn't take him for a chatty drunk. She cursed silently.

"None of your business, Kenpachi," she muttered finally, pouring herself a drink and downing it in one go.

"Just askin'." He said, unperturbed. "I'd been wondering. Still, yer pretty kickass without it. You've got good form, even if yer sword's hella short."

"My sword is long enough, thanks," she snapped, relieved at the change in subject. She took a drag on her pipe and poured herself another drink, downing it just as fast as the first one. Might as well catch up.

"Che, whatever. It forces you into close-combat; you can't see if yer foe's got somethin' he's plannin'." Zaraki sipped on his sake, apparently content to smugly criticize.

"It works well enough for me," Kuukaku said, scowling. "Besides, once you're in close combat, if you're opponent's using a long blade, he can't manoevre it well enough to block thrusts from a short blade." She poured herself another bowl of sake. "It's stupid not to take advantage of your opponent's weaknesses."

Zaraki snorted. "Like I don't know that already." He gave her a sidelong glance as she finished her third sake bowl, this time more slowly. "Take it easy."

"'Take it easy'?" Kuukaku drawled scornfully. "What are ya, my mother? Just 'cause yer a captain now doesn't mean you get to order me around, Zaraki Kenpachi." She grinned at him. "I ain't in your squad. And don't you think I can't take my alcohol either. Rukongai moonshine, remember?"

"Didn't take you for one to go into town much."

"Nah, I don't like bars. I get in too many fights; waste of my money to pay for the damages." Kuukaku gave him a cocky glance. "I make my own alcohol."

Zaraki grinned and drained his sake dish. "Yer alright, Shiba."

"It's Kuukaku."

"Yer alright, Kuukaku..." Zaraki paused a moment, then drawled, "fer a woman."

Kuukaku's head snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Zaraki fixed her with his one eye and shrugged. "Whaddayou think it means?"

"I think it means you have no experience with women whatsoever." Kuukaku smirked and sat back, just sipping her sake. "'Fer a woman' I'm okay, eh? I still bloodied you up some."

"Yeah, but I beat you, don't ferget that."

"Betcha couldn't do it again," Kuukaku challenged, pointing her pipe stem in his face.

"Woman, were you sleeping during the battle with Toyoma?" Zaraki looked at her incredulously. "I'm stronger now than I've ever been before; you wouldn't be a challenge. Yer not even a shinigami."

"We'd fight with your eyepatch on," Kuukaku said, now emptying the pipe in the dirt. "You need to try it out, anyway."

There was a silence as Zaraki seemed to digest this statement. The notion of crippling himself during a fight to present a challenge to himself was a new one, but judging from his growing smile, Kuukaku could see that he was taking to it.

"Alright then," Zaraki stood up, and Kuukaku followed suit.

"Not here, though; we'd wake these idiots up. There's a training ground 'round the other side of the thirteenth division."

Kuukaku put her pipe carefully in her bag, then hoisted it on to her shoulder. "Ready?" Without waiting for a reply, she flash-stepped away, reappearing moments later at the training grounds: a stream ran through the woods here, and the trees opened to form a rough, but open, clearing.

Kuukaku waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, then walked to the edge of the clearing. Bending over, she stored her bag at the base of a tree; standing up again, she whirled to meet Zaraki's sword with her own.

"Thought you'd catch me off-guard?" she asked, smiling ferociously and pushing up with all her might.

"Knew you were waiting for it," he replied, refusing to be budged: Kuukaku sprinted away to avoid being trapped between Zaraki and the tree.

"Way of Destruction number thirty-one: shot of red fire!" She turned and pointed, and a ball of fire hit Zaraki in the chest; he stumbled back and swatted it away, its temporary flare leaving streaks on both their visions.

"I'm really starting to hate that kidou shit," he called, and the next second was in front of her, raising his zanpakutou for a downward slash. Kuukaku, instead of darting back, moved forward and elbowed the man in the solar plexus: she was met with a slight resistance, but as his reiatsu was restrained, he still doubled over, winded.

Pleased, Kuukaku attempted to kick Zaraki's zanpakutou out of his hands; it didn't work, and she was in the act of springing away when his other arm rose without warning, and he backhanded her across the clearing.

Kuukaku blacked out for a moment as she flew through the air, regaining consciousness just as she was about to hit a tree: using her momentum, the woman doubled over and landed heavily on the trunk with her feet. Dazed, she fell three feet, hitting the ground and rolling just in time to whip her sword up to block Zaraki's blade.

He grinned at her less-than-amused expression. "Get too close and you can't see my other hand," he taunted, and bore down, stooping quite far due to his height and her position flat in the grass. "Didn't I tell ya this already? Or has the sake made you forget?"

"Like hell," Kuukaku snarled, and kicked out: her feet caught his right ankle and pushed it out from under him. She pushed with her whole body behind her sword; as Zaraki fell, he rolled sideways, and Kuukaku - without another arm to steady herself - ended up sitting on top of him. Now she was the one bearing down with her sword.

Moonlight flashed on the blades and muscles rippled under Kuukaku's thighs as Zaraki began to laugh. Kuukaku stiffened: her position straddling his abdomen meant that she felt each movement acutely. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Kuukaku felt her cheeks colouring; Zaraki was still laughing, and Kuukaku took advantage of it, reciting the chant for the Way of Destruction number four. White lightning seared her eyes as it sizzled down the length of her sword, jumping to his, and Kuukaku sprang into the air as the electricity shook Zaraki's body.

Kuukaku landed on her feet to the right of Zaraki: the side of his sword-hand, but also his blind side, due to the eyepatch. She was off like a shot, aiming to slash his shoulder muscles and incapacitate his sword arm. Zaraki was already getting to his feet; Kuukaku's blade drove into his shoulder, but before she could finish the slash, she felt a massive hand wrap itself around her fist on the sword hilt. Zaraki pulled, and the blade dislodged; Kuukaku was swung around, her back slamming against the trunk of a tree, her hand pinioned to the trunk above her, sword falling to the ground beside her.

Breathing heavily, Kuukaku scowled up at her captor. "First blood. I win." She glared belligerently into his one, very amused eye; Zaraki towered over her, standing close enough that Kuukaku's chest brushed against his with each breath she took. Continuing to hold his gaze, Kuukaku became aware that the atmosphere was charged with more than reiatsu: she felt very warm all of a sudden.

"I won," she said again, her breath hitching slightly; Zaraki's smile of amusement had slowly faded, his gaze becoming intense.

"What?" She demanded, not sure how to interpret his attitude.

"Way I see it, I've still got the upper hand," he answered, his gravelly voice lower than usual, although that may just have been because he was speaking quietly; it sent a frisson down her spine. "What use is winning if yer trapped after?"

Kuukaku blinked once, then brought her right leg up sharply; Zaraki dropped his sword and pushed her knee outwards before it could connect.

"Bitch," he said, and shoved his way between her thighs, pinning her completely to the tree, forcing her legs to lock themselves behind his back in order to keep herself from slipping. "Don't think that'll work twice."

"Didn't work the first time," she said, refusing to be intimidated. Kuukaku knew that there was more than one way to win a battle, even though she rarely went down that path out of mercy for the other opponent; her assets were formidable and she considered it outright cheating to use them. However, this was different: he'd laughed at her once, and once was enough for Kuukaku; if he was going to continue the fight, she was going to make sure she won, no matter what. With this in mind, Kuukaku shifted her hips, grinding up against Zaraki: she was rewarded with a ragged intake of breath as his eyes widened.

"Woman, you -" he cut himself off as she pressed up against him once again.

"It's Kuukaku," she hissed, continuing to move, wrapping her legs even tighter around him.

"Kuukaku," he breathed, his voice still deep, and something tingled in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath, well aware of the effect achieved by her heaving chest. His eyes fixed on the front of her shirt; she was prepared for that reaction. What she wasn't prepared for was Zaraki pressing against her, covering her completely, her breasts heavy against his chest as he spoke directly into her ear, his lips just brushing against her hair.

"I know what yer tryin' to do," he said, voice buzzing against the sensitive skin just by her earlobe, "cheater."

"This'll be the only time," she breathed in response; he smelled of sweat and blood and something darker. "I've already won, anyways; you can't deny that. Give me my victory." She shifted her hips again; he growled and kissed her.

His mouth on hers was hard, unrelenting, and Kuukaku opened her mouth in response, deepening the kiss. His reiatsu saturated the air around her, intermingling with the ragged edges of her own: Zaraki was as uncompromising a lover as he was a fighter, and Kuukaku rose to meet the challenge eagerly. He slipped his tongue into her mouth; she bit it - not too hard - and snickered as his hips jumped in response.

"Like it rough, eh?" She mumbled, breathless, against his mouth; he tweaked one of her nipples viciously in response, eliciting a moan. She tugged her arm free of his relaxed grip on her wrist and buried it in his hair, bringing his head further down, so she was not craning her neck to kiss him.

His hands continued to run over her body, trailing fire over her shivering skin, causing Kuukaku to squirm and gasp against his mouth, desire curling in the pit of her stomach. The bark of the tree dragged roughly against the uncovered skin of her back and shoulders; she pulled back on Zaraki's hair, fixing him with a triumphant, lusty gaze.

"The grass," she said, and he nodded, understanding. The world whipped around violently and Kuukaku found herself on her back in the grass, Zaraki kneeling over her with a wicked grin.

Like hell I'm the bottom, Kuukaku thought indignantly, but then Zaraki's mouth was over hers and all thought was banished after that as their bodies slammed together. Zaraki bit, Kuukaku scratched, and the heat between them intensified; clothes were torn aside in the haste to feel skin on skin, and Kuukaku drew her breath in sharply, relishing the contrast of the cool grass at her back and the heat of the Kenpachi's body.

There was a moment when Zaraki's eyes burned into hers; she nodded and suddenly he was inside her, and she felt as if she was being split in two. Kuukaku yelled in pain and bit down on the flesh between Zaraki's neck and shoulder, until she tasted the copper tang of blood filling her mouth. Zaraki gave a pained growl, but Kuukaku held on fiercely, feeling the blood run out of the corners of her mouth, until the pain turned into aching pleasure.

The moment Kuukaku let go, Zaraki deftly flipped them around, so that she was sitting astride him: Kuukaku grinned and wiped the corner of her mouth with a self-satisfied smirk. Zaraki opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Kuukaku began to move, rendering him silent with sensation. Kuukaku herself had to bite down on a groan as his hips matched hers in rhythm, and an unbearably sweet agony began to build with every thrust. Fuck he's huge; Kuukaku angled her hips so that his thrusts were shallower, hitting her sweet spots without hurting her overmuch: she clenched her thighs around his waist, braced herself against his chest with her arm, and tried not to writhe too hard with pleasure.

Zaraki's breath was coming in ragged pants; Kuukaku threw her head back and moaned as the tight knot of feeling deep in her belly flared with surging heat, licking its way to every nerve in her body. Zaraki cupped her breast with one hand and with the other brought her down for a fierce kiss, then moved to trail bites down the side of her neck. Kuukaku's rhythm became more frenzied as the sensations crescendoed within her; she cried out, muscles clenching around Zaraki, who, in turn, was sent over the edge, and their surging reiatsu met and clashed like fireworks overhead.

In the aftermath, Kuukaku found herself flopped on top of Zaraki, one finger tracing lazy circles on his chest. His neck was still bleeding, she noted with amusement, and flirted with the idea of a sardonic apology before casting it aside. She could feel the warm fog of alcohol and tiredness descending over her brain; the wind prickled the hairs on the back of her neck, and, shivering, she stood up and began to cast about for her clothes.

"Oi," Kuukaku turned around to see Zaraki looking up at her through his uncovered eye, still sprawled on his back, naked and supremely unconcerned. "Where d'you think yer going?"

"Back to the Second Division," she bent over and laced the ties of her shirt together behind her neck, then straightened. "It's getting early; I gotta be up tomorrow to kick my brother goodbye and get back to the brat and the household."

"Mm." Zaraki made an indistinct noise and sat up. "'S alright; I didn't peg you for the kinda woman who gets all clingy and shit."

Kuukaku grinned and shoved her sword through her belt, then slid into her sandals. "You ain't really the kind to get attached either...at least not to a woman over the age of six."

"Damn right," he stood up and made a grab for his hakama as Kuukaku chucked it at him. She made sure to throw the captain's haori at his head as he was busy wrapping the hakama around himself.

"Yer gonna need that," she remarked, as it landed on his head and most of his shoulders. "Be a shame if all the effort I went through to get you here went wasted."

"Yeah, whatever," Zaraki grumbled, but Kuukaku could see his grin as he disentangled the material from his hair. She picked up her bag, fishing out her pipe before slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'll see you around, Kenpachi no Zaraki," Kuukaku said, turning and giving a short bow. "Or, should I say, Zaraki-taichou?"

"Zaraki does just fine," he growled, but inclined his head slightly. "Yer not gonna be around?"

"I'll always be around," Kuukaku winked. "But Sereitei's not the place for me."

"The kid'll miss you." He didn't look at her.

"You can bring her around from time to time, then," Kuukaku couldn't keep the shit-eating grin off her face and she knew it, but the situation was just too fun. "Mebbe I'll teach her something about fireworks."

"Che. Maybe."

"You can count on it." She winked at him and was off.