Title: Blessed Victory
Chapter: 23/?
Rating: NC-17 LIEK WHOA.
Warnings: Cursing, adult language, innuendo, dirty talk, and the must delicious sounding sex I have ever written. I think.
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo!
A/N: I AM SO SORRY.

This was delayed MUCH longer than I thought or anticipated. I just moved into a new apartment, in a new town, about to start at a new university, and I tell you what: shit is crazy. That's no excuse though, but I bring candy and smut as a peace offering. T.T I love you all for being such loyal readers, I really, really, REALLY do.


Nanashi Katsue looked like a complete and utter mess. She sighed as she stared at herself in the little mirror over her exam room's counters, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Her hair was pulled up in a sloppy bun, with pins threatening to fall out and stray strands of hair poking in every direction. The skin around her eyes was dark and bruised from lack of sleep, and her normally tan skin was starting to turn an unbecoming shade of gray. "Send the next one in," she croaked and let her hands drop, returning to their work of thoroughly sanitizing their dry and chapped skin. She had washed her hands so many damned times this week…

"But Nanashi-kun," Hanatarou paused on his path towards the door, his own bruised eyes considering her hesitantly. "It's only ten minutes until closing time, couldn't we just close up early this once…?"

Katsue was utterly silent as she turned her head to give him a dead glance, her usually bright gray eyes flat and expressionless. She looked like a zombie.

Sighing in defeat, Hanatarou weakly tugged the rice paper door open and bowed sloppily. "Next," he croaked himself.

The pair had been working virtually non-stop for the past week attending to every wounded Shinigami that had tried to reign in the Eleventh Squad's rebellion, as Zaraki's return demands dictated. Katsue hadn't expected to see so many patients in so short a time—hell, she hadn't expected the Eleventh to have wounded so many people. But after the first three days of non-stop patients going in and out of her door, it became bleakly apparent that the damages the wayward squad had caused in Zaraki's absence were record-breaking.

She had seen men and women from every single squad in Sereitei, even Captain Kurotsuchi's Twelfth Division, which usually avoided combat situations. The wounds had ranged from simple abrasions and sword wounds to sprains, fractions, shattered bones, and concussions. She had even seen to one unfortunate man that had some rather unpleasant items shoved rather far up his rectum. That patient had not been pleasant to tend to. To accommodate the alarming volume of patients, Katsue had been forced to open her clinic two hours earlier and keep it open two hours longer each day, which resulted in both her and Hanatarou working off very little sleep.

"Nana-kun!" a bright, characteristically optimistic voice rang out cheerily as Vice Captain Kusajishi skipped merrily into Katsue's clinic.

Katsue shuffled her feet as she turned to face the little girl, a weak smile turning on her lips. "Did you scrape your knees again, Yachi-Yachi?"

"Nope!" Yachiru sang as she laced her tiny little fingers with Katsue's, and did a complete one-eighty and turned to walk back out of the clinic, Katsue in tow. "Bye, Hana-kimi!"

Hanatarou watched silently as Katsue stumbled along in the little pink-haired girl's wake, her dull eyes looking momentarily surprised as her mouth worked in a silent protest. He poked his head out the door to watch them go, ignoring the jabs and jeers from the still waiting long line of injured patients. Once the two disappeared into the Eleventh Squad's headquarters, Hanatarou slowly looked around to consider the line. Slowly, and with all the deliberateness he could muster, Hanatarou slid the door shut and locked it securely.

He was sure that ten minutes really wouldn't make that big of a difference, and he sure as hell wasn't going to put up with annoyed and injured Shinigami in his current state and all by his lonesome.

Meanwhile, Katsue was tripping over her own damn feet as she struggled to keep pace with Yachiru's fast pace. The little girl was still humming happily, blatantly ignoring any and all of Katsue's protests, as she guided the older woman to Zaraki's room. It wasn't until the two were in the brightly-lit room and the door closed securely behind them that Yachiru finally released Katsue's hand.

"How am I supposed to get a baby brother when you and Ken-chan are too busy working!" Yachiru huffed, all of a sudden a frown on her little pink lips as she scurried behind Katsue, and pushed the woman towards an empty chair.

Katsue quirked an eyebrow as she flopped down into the chair. "Excuse me?"

"And lookit you!" Yachiru clucked her tongue and put her hands on her hips as she gave Katsue a once-over. "Nana-chan, you need to be taking better care of yourself!"

"Why do you sound like me?" Katsue moaned piteously, flinging an arm across her eyes as she sank back. "I feel like I'm an intern under Captain Unohana all over again…"

Yachiru let out a little sigh, before she started helping Katsue out of her shihakusho. The girl's hands were quick and deft as she untied Katsue's obi, and went to work peeling off the layers of her kimono. Katsue's hands, however, were slow and clumsy and several times Yachiru swatted her hands away. Finally, Katsue gave up and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered under her breath and slouched where she sat, dull gray eyes watching Yachiru's hands. "I can't believe how many people the Eleventh injured, and I have to heal them all with just Hanatarou's help!"

Yachiru pursed her lips stubbornly as she started on the ties to Katsue's hakama. "It's not fair! You didn't have anything to do with the riot," she huffed, almost pouting. "Now I have no one to play with, 'cause you and Ken-chan are too busy working and crap. Even Big-Booby-kun is too busy! I almost couldn't convince her to come over tonight!"

"'Convince' isn't the word I would use, Yachiru-chan."

Katsue looked up half-heartedly as the door to Zaraki's room slid open impatiently, admitting the buxom Vice Captain from the Tenth Division. Matsumoto Rangiku regarded Katsue interestedly, before letting out a sympathetic sigh. "Nanashi-kun, you are a mess!"

"What's going on?" Katsue whined just as Yachiru started to tug impatiently at her loose hakama.

"I'm tired of Captain Hitsugaya complaining about Captain Zaraki's mantrums," Matsumoto grinned wickedly as she held out the garment box she carried. "And Yachiru-chan is tired of you both working so hard, so—"

"All work and no play makes Ken-chan grumpy and Nana-kun look like dog poo," Yachiru huffed as she finally managed to pull off Katsue's hakama, without the older woman's aid. She threw the things away with an annoyed glare at the innocent fabric, before turning her fierce brown eyes on to Katsue. "So you need a play date!"

Giggling to herself, Matsumoto hurried to join Yachiru by Katsue. With a mischievous look, she discarded the box on top of Zaraki's desk, and set about pulling a cosmetics bag out of its hiding place down the front of her kimono. "Try to relax and enjoy yourself, Nanashi-chan," she sang happily as Yachiru hopped up to sit on the desk, humming cheerfully.

Katsue glanced at the cosmetics bag, then back and forth between Matsumoto and Yachiru. "Please don't," she murmured weakly. "Remember the last time you played with make-up, Yachi-Yachi?"

"That was different!" Yachiru sang. "That wasn't real make-up, and me and Big-Booby-kun were drunk."

"Don't worry, Nanashi-chan," Matsumoto smiled reassuringly as she gently pushed Katsue back into her chair. "The make-up is the least of your worries."

XXXX

Captain Zaraki Kenpachi was rumbling with a deep, discontent growl as he stood impatiently in front of the First Division's headquarters. He had come because he was summoned by that old bastard Yamamoto, and so far he had been waiting a good hour to be seen. Ikkaku lounged lazily against the wall beside him while Yumichika browsed through a folder of documents he had brought with him. "I'm leaving," Zaraki snarled under his breath as he finally unfolded his arms from across his broad chest.

"That wouldn't be the best decision," Yumichika chided him quietly before shuffling his papers.

"The hell it wouldn't," Ikkaku snapped, just as irritable as his captain. "The hell did he summon us here for if they're just making us wait?"

"I got better things to do with my time," Zaraki agreed. Things like screwing Katsue's brains out, he thought absently to himself. He was consciously aware of his woman's reiatsu, or whatever the hell it was he felt from her, shining like a beacon from the confines of his room a good six kilometers from where he stood. If he hurried, he could make it back home before she crawled in bed and passed out for the night. It would be the first time in over a week he'd get to see her while she was still conscious.

"More important things than your duty, Captain Zaraki?" a calm, cool voice drawled from the door way to the First Headquarters.

Zaraki's face went hard as he glared at the vice captain of the First Division, Sasakibe Choujirou. The uptight prick was regarding him with a cool look as he waited, one arm holding the door open for Zaraki and his officers. "I said better," Zaraki growled quietly.

"High Commander Yamamoto will see you now," Sasakibe bowed his head slightly, the smallest amount of respect he had to show for a captain.

Audibly snarling, Zaraki turned on his heel and stalked past the scrawny vice captain, Yumichika and Ikkaku following close behind. He made his way through the all too familiar hall ways despite Sasakibe trying to guide him in the proper direction. By the time he reached Yamamoto's office, Zaraki was scowling grumpily and his reiatsu was manifesting in a yellow aura around him. "The hell do you want, Yamamoto?"

High Commander Yamamoto ignored him for a moment as the old man slowly closed a folder and filed it away in his desk. Without even looking up or saying a word, Yamamoto put another folder on his desk and slid it ever so slightly in Zaraki's direction. Yumichika immediately stepped forward to take the folder and read through it, all while Zaraki glared mercilessly at Yamamoto. "The hell is that?"

"Case reports," Yamamoto finally replied as he finally looked up at Captain Zaraki. His cold black eyes regarded him thoughtfully, before he placed his gnarled old hands on the security of his walking staff. "I would like for you to read over them by the end of the week and report back to me. We have much to discuss, Captain Zaraki."

Zaraki snorted disdainfully and snatched the folder from Yumichika, earning him an offended frown from his fifth seat officer. He flipped it open and scanned over the first case report, his grumpy attitude growing gradually into full-on pissed off. "The fuck do you want me to read about this shit?" he rumbled quietly.

"I want to be sure you understand the predicament you put me in," Yamamoto replied slowly, as if he were carefully thinking over each word that was coming out of his mouth. "You can see why I am so concerned."

"Me and Katsue are none of your damned business," Zaraki snapped, closing the folder and shoving it back into Yumichika's hands. "We've already had this damn discussion, Yamamoto. And that ended in me storming out of here and you down a squad of Special Ops."

"I will not again interfere with you and Officer Nanashi as I did," Yamamoto replied, his own voice growing angrier. "But I do ask that you understand and are aware that I must lay down guide lines for the best interest of all Sereitei."

"Fuck off," Zaraki snarled and stormed out of the room, shoving Vice Captain Sasakibe out of his way as he stalked down the hall ways. Ikkaku and Yumichika hurried to follow him, both of them nosing through the sheaves of paper that Yamamoto had placed within the folder.

"Captain Inuha and Fifth Seat Inuha, married," Yumichika spoke absently as he scanned over a report. "Charged of high treason and found guilty of plotting to over throw House Kuchiki eight hundred years ago. Executed within the week."

"Here's a couple that stole newly forged zanpakutou from an armory," Ikkaku drawled, reading from his own stack of papers. "They were arming a guerilla squad from the Seventy-Eighth District of Rukongai to protest against Sereitei."

"All of these people are Captains that were sleeping with their subordinates," Yumichika frowned and shuffled through the papers. "It's a bit one sided," he muttered.

"I'm sure there were more people fucking each other that were lower in the ranks that did worse shit," Ikkaku huffed and shoved the remainder of his papers back into Yumichika's hands. Frowning, he watched the swaying haori of his captain as they burst into the setting sun light of Sereitei.

"Give me a few days in the library with Captain Ukitake, and I'm sure I can find plenty of cases in which captains were intimately involved with another person and didn't try to commit treason," Yumichika grumbled under his breath. With a resigned sigh, he closed the folder and glanced up at his captain. "Captain Zaraki?"

"See if you can find a report on Captain Kuchiki and his wife," Zaraki rumbled quietly, his pace not slowing as he prowled straight towards his headquarters in the Eleventh Division's territory. "I want to know what the fuck Yamamoto pulled with that prick."

Ikkaku quirked an eyebrow. "You think he tried to toy with Kuchiki?" he let out a low, appreciative whistle. "That old man's got some balls."

"Yeah well, unfortunately for me I don't have nobility to get me out of this bullshit," Zaraki spat to the side, tugging his sheathed zanpakutou free from his obi. His grip was tight on the hilt as he lifted it up and rested it over one shoulder, a sure sign to any unlucky Shinigami they passed that Zaraki wasn't in the mood to be fucked with. As he expected, everyone they saw avoided making eye contact with him, and hurried out of his way.

"Nope, but you got us, right?" Ikkaku huffed. "I ain't cleaning up jack shit though if we riot again."

Zaraki snorted in response, and the trio fell into a companionable, if grumpy, silence. The giant captain of the eleventh squad was scowling grumpily as he made his way homewards, his thin lips curved down in a firm frown and his eyebrows drawn together tightly. Despite the sudden urge to beat the crap out of someone, he was walking rather quickly in a hurry to get home. The sun had finally set beyond the horizon, but it was still a little light out. If he hurried he could make it home in time…

Yumichika prodded Ikkaku in the shoulder the moment they passed under the new stone arches that lead to the Eleventh Division. Frowning, Ikkaku quirked an eyebrow at his companion and stared at him curiously as Yumichika nodded his head suggestively towards Zaraki. Following his gesture, Ikkaku stared between Zaraki and his obvious destination: the captain's and officer's quarters.

With an irritated grunt, Ikkaku opened his mouth to ask Yumichika what the hell he was trying to say, but instead found one of the man's dainty hands clamped tightly over his maw. "We'll go do the evening inspection and lights out run," Yumichika said cheerily in Zaraki's general direction. He got a firm hold on the struggling Ikkaku, and hastily dragged the bald man off towards the dormitories.

Zaraki simply grunted absently in response and prowled into the large building that housed his rooms. A slow grin spread on his lips as he found the place suspiciously dark and silent, without a sign of little Yachiru. He paused momentarily in the large dining room where him and his officers shared any communal meals, and nodded in satisfaction at the sloppily-scrawled note left on the table. As he suspected, Yachiru was staying the night at Matsumoto's again.

There was a new vigor in Zaraki's step as he turned and headed straight for the stairs that led to his upstairs bedroom. As he scaled the steps two at a time, he hopped from one foot to the next to tear off his straw sandals and crisp white stockings. The heavy fabric of his haori joined his neglected footwear on the steps as he finally reached the top, and by the time he was at his door his obi and black kimono were scattered along the length of the hallway. He paused and listened at the door, and found only silence. A soft yellow light was seeping around the edges of the door, though, and under the crack at the bottom. Katsue was still awake, then, he thought happily as he tugged the door open and tore off his white kimono.

Katsue wasn't sitting at his desk, though, as he had expected. The small lamp that sat on it flickered weakly, the candle inside on its last dying moments, before it sputtered and died. With a deflated sigh, Zaraki spotted her laid out underneath the layers of blankets on his bed. Shoulders slumped dejectedly, he sulked and turned right back around, collected his abused clothes from the hall and stairwell, then returned to his room. Grumbling quietly under his breath, he threw the load, along with his hakama, into a pile in a corner with Katsue's own discarded shihakusho.

Zanpakutou in hand, Zaraki prowled quietly towards the bedside and stared down at her in the darkness. Poor girl, he smiled grimly as he listened to her soft, even breaths in the silence of his room. If there was anyone in all of Sereitei working harder than Katsue was this past week, he'd be flat out surprised. It was the same scene every night: he'd come home late from a long day of playing maid and find her passed out with her clothes on, sometimes on the wooden floor as if she hadn't had the energy to make it to bed.

With another sigh he placed his zanpakutou on the floor beside his side of the bed—the side closest to the door—and peeled back the blankets to crawl in bed beside her. He had expected the same as any other night: Katsue still in her shihakusho and too far gone to realize when he crawled in beside her. But it only took him a heartbeat to realize that her shihakusho was in the corner, where he had just thrown his own uniform. And a split second after that Katsue was rolling over in her sleep to face him, her small hands lighting softly on his chest as she snuggled close to him.

"Are those heathens gone?" she grumbled sleepily as her eyes fluttered open to gaze sleepily up at him.

Zaraki quirked a curious brow as he cupped her cheek. "Who?"

"Yachiru and Matsumoto," she yawned, stretching out alongside him as she did.

That's when Zaraki noticed that Katsue wasn't just naked, or wearing that fancy underwear he liked so much. "What the hell do you have on?" he rumbled and glanced down her body to find out, only to find the tops of her cleavage pushing up towards his face in a perky 'hello'. His cock immediately punched to life in the confines of the boxers that were slung low on his hips.

Katsue froze mid stretch, her cheeks heating in a quick blush as she scooted backwards and tugged the blanket up over her buxom chest. "N-nothing," she stuttered and wrapped the heavy blanket around her chest. "Cover your eyes while I change."

Grinning, Zaraki grabbed her up in his arms and tugged her close despite her protests. "You've been romping around naked in front of me since I first claimed you, Katsue," he rumbled provocatively, his voice deep and husky. "What could you possibly be wearin' that you wouldn't want me to see?"

"Kenpachi! Get your hands off of me!" she balked and shoved against his chest. He only replied with a rumbling laugh as he clutched her closer with one strong arm, his free hand peeling the blanket away from her body. "Yachiru and Matsumoto kidnapped me and put me in this thing! I don't want you to see it!"

"Why?" he asked absently. He was too busy struggling to see her in the dark to pay much attention to her protests. But all he could see was the stark contrast between the dark fabric she wore and her lighter skin—he couldn't see any detail, couldn't see what she was wearing, or how she looked in it. All he knew was that it was going to be more annoying to get her out of it than lingerie was, especially since he didn't know what the hell it was.

"Because it's ridiculous," she huffed and tried to slap his massive paws away.

Frowning in frustration, Zaraki batted her hands back absently. "For heaven's sake, woman," he growled, "it's been over a week since either of us have gotten off. And now that you're actually awake, I'm going to fuck you until you scream my name loud enough for Kurosaki in the living world to hear. Now, I would like to know what the hell you have on before I rip it off and never find out."

Katsue gasped breathlessly as he tore the blanket away and sat her down soundly on his lap. She had her lean arms held up shyly over her chest even as her body arched against him. He grinned as he felt her rub against his erection through the layers of their clothes, and brought one heavy hand down hard on her ass.

And was met with a resounding smack of his hand meeting bare skin. Brows arched curiously, Zaraki ran his hand along the smooth curve of her rump until he encountered the unmistakable feel of lace and silk on her hip. He felt a hard, metallic piece attached to a long, thin strip of silk and followed its length—down the long, lean plane of her thigh. "Oh hell," he rumbled as his hand encountered another little piece of metal just above the side of her knee and another field of silk and lace. "This I have to see in the light."

"Kenpachi, no!" she pouted as he lifted her from his lap and set her down beside him. He was out of the bed in a flash, hurrying towards his desk and the drawer where he kept spare candles for the lamp. "Just rip the damned thing off," she spoke hurriedly as she tried to follow him.

"I will," he replied as he found a candle. "Just as soon as I see it," he grinned wickedly and shoved the stick of wax into its holder in the lamp, lighting it the moment his hand found the box of matches beside it.

Soft, flittering candle light filled the room. Zaraki ripped his eye patch off, his reiatsu roaring to life, before he turned to face Katsue. Immediately, a deep rumbling growl tore out of the depths of his chest as he glanced over her once before running a slow, devouring, appreciative gaze along her body from head to toe.

Katsue was blushing furiously as she stood shyly in front of the bed. Her long auburn hair was loose and arranged in sloppy curls that framed her soft face. Her eyes were darkened with make up, her lips a brighter shade of red than normal. Zaraki thought that her skin even looked healthier than it had all week. But he didn't pay much attention to the little bit of make up that decorated her face—his attention was instantly riveted on the silk and lace garment that she wore.

What had the advertisements that he saw in the real world called it?—he thought as he stared at the pitch black silk that hugged her bodice tightly. Lace trimmed the edges, providing a meager barrier between his eyes and her bare breasts as the fabric pushed the swelling mounds up in a fashion that made his mouth water to taste her. "The hell is that?" he asked quietly as his eyes drank in the pinched-in waist that the fabric molded into her body. The bodice ended above the curves of her hips, with the front dipping down in a slight arrow. From there, she wore only a thin black lace thong that basically served no purpose; he could see every inch of flesh between her luscious thighs. The pieces of metal and silk that he had felt turned out to be black garters that race from the hips of her bodice, down along her long thighs to grip the top of black lace stockings that covered her from toe to knee.

"Matsumoto said that it's a teddy," Katsue blushed and averted her soft gray-eyed gaze. She crossed her arms in front of her self consciously, which only served to push her breasts up further. "Stop staring like that. I feel like an idiot enough without you looking at me like—"

"I could eat you," Zaraki growled, taking a slow, measured step in her direction. Katsue looked up in alarm, her cheeks flushing before turning bright pink. "Turn around."

She complied hesitantly, turning where she stood until Zaraki could look at her back side. Her heart pounded the inside of her chest as she heard a slight groan come from him. And before she knew it, his body was pressing tightly against her. "Kenpachi," she gasped breathlessly as his heavy hands landed on her shoulders. She shivered as he simply growled and ran his paws along her arms, the rough calluses on his fingers and palms raising goose bumps on her skin.

"Where can I buy you more of these?" he rumbled huskily as his mouth pressed hot kisses to her neck. She absolutely melted against him as his hands moved hers backward, until she could grip his bare hips. How had he gotten his boxers off so quickly…?

"I-I don't know," she replied quietly, her head rolling back on her shoulders as he bit down on her neck. "Lingerie stores…?"

"I'm going to buy you enough to rip one off that body of yours every night for an entire year," he swore heatedly and thrust against her, drawing throaty moans out of them both.

"You don't have the paycheck for that," she grinned slightly as her self confidence finally returned in a rush. She had protested heavily against wearing this thing when Matsumoto first showed it to her. It was silly; she had felt silly simply looking at it. Teddies weren't the kind of thing she was comfortable with; hell, some of the thongs in her underwear drawer were still questionable to her.

But dear gods, Zaraki Kenpachi was practically purring like a giant kitten as he patiently stroked and touched her. How often did that happen? Usually he was rough, quick, and aggressive with snarls and growls and a lot of victorious grins. He seemed to be momentarily stuck in neutral as he learned the lay out of the teddy, memorized the look and feel of her in it, and plotted his path of destruction that would eventually end with the teddy's demise.

When his deep purr escalated excitedly into a growl, Katsue pushed away from him and spun on her feet to face him. Smiling mischievously she maneuvered to keep him at arm's length as she backed towards the bed, him following obediently with the flowing prowl of a predator on the hunt. Slowly, she waggled a finger at him and shook her head. "You are not ripping this thing apart, Kenpachi," she purred at him, her voice silky and seductive.

He hit her like a freight train as he tackled her to the bed. "Watch me," he snarled past a huge grin as they both tumbled in the nest of blankets and pillows. He was trying to get a grip on her slender wrists and pin her beneath him, but Katsue was laughing throatily and just barely managing to keep her limbs under her own control.

"No!" she laughed, gray eyes dancing as her dainty hands darted past his defense. He leaped backwards, sitting down flat on his ass, as an odd sensation rippled through his body after she wiggled her fingers against his arm pits. Scowling, he stared at her surprised expression for a moment. Then, as if she had discovered all the secrets of the universe, Katsue's eyes grew big and wide as she cackled.

"I'm ripping that damned thing off," he growled as she sat up on her hands and knees. He watched her passively as she crawled towards him, eyes half lidded mysteriously and a seductive smile on her full lips. His eyes strayed from her face though and towards the expanse of luscious cleavage that was threatening to spill over the top of her bodice. He felt his cock throb in response, especially as she started to crawl over his legs.

"You will not tear a single seam," Katsue purred, the smooth skin of her legs rubbing provocatively along his as she rose onto her knees and straddled him. He snarled at her in response, lurching forward to grip the top of her teddy in preparation of ripping it straight down the middle.

Her fingers went for his armpits again, and he immediately abandoned his assault to squirm away from her touch. Yellow eyes flashing dangerously, he snarled at her as he opted to bury his hands in her hair instead. "What the hell are you doing?" his voice was low, deep, threatening as he gripped her head in his hands.

She was still looking at him like a seductress, though, even as she barely managed to suppress a giggle. "Taking care of my poor neglected man," she whispered huskily.

Scowling, Zaraki watched curiously as her long fingers ran down the expanse of his chest. Before he even realized what her intentions were, she grasped his heavy erection in on smooth hand and gave him a long, firm stroke. "Gods damn it," he rumbled and tilted her head up towards his, his rough mouth claiming hers in hungry kiss. "I'm going to fuck you—"

"Till I scream?" she gasped against his lips, all while her hand ran along his shaft in torturously slow pulls. "No," she smiled and dodged another of his rough kisses by turning her face away from his. He contented himself by biting down on her earlobe, even as she rumbled with a laugh. "Not tonight, love. Tonight, you're mine to fuck until you roar."

He shuddered even as he glared and tried to dislodge her from his lap. She simply abandoned his aching cock long enough to wiggle her fingers at his arm pits again, and have him squirming uncomfortably. "Quit that," he rumbled even as her hands went right back to his manhood. He went momentarily blind with pure pleasure as she gripped him firmly, her hands squeezing him mercilessly tight as she yanked at his flesh. When his vision cleared, he was appalled to find that he had leaned back on his hands for support while he gyrated his hips to her soft hands. He cursed, vehemently.

"Someone doesn't like being tickled," she laughed softly, her breasts bouncing as she did. His eyes locked back on those perfect swells of flesh as he frowned at her.

"I can give myself a damn hand job whenever I want, Katsue," he growled threateningly, his yellow eyes narrowing as he watched her chest rise and fall with her breath. Her arms had pushed her breasts together again while she used both her hands to touch him, and he was finding it incredibly hard to think because of it.

She quirked an eyebrow, still smiling evilly. She flicked a thumb over the head of his cock, and his hips bucked automatically. Swearing, Zaraki could only watch as she worked him over. "But this isn't your hand touching you…here…" she purred and lowered a hand to cup his aching bollocks. He gritted his teeth as she squeezed, her other hand give him a firm stroke as she did. "I'm better at it, admit it."

He grunted absently.

"Your abdomen is growing tight," she smiled at him. He cursed again as he realized she was right—he hadn't even noticed that his body was starting to crank itself into over drive with the threat of an orgasm. Her hands stroked him faster, harder, squeezed him tighter and tighter until he was on the very verge of groaning and releasing right into her hand—

"Nah-ah-ah," she laughed quietly and her hands stilled. His eyes shot open to stare at her hands on his cock in complete and utter amazement as his orgasm abated just as quickly as it had been coming. Her small hands were gripping him tightly just under the swollen head.

"The hell did you do?" he rasped.

She only replied with that annoying smile as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips were soft, gentle, and aggravatingly in control of the kiss. He was about to throw her onto her back and burry his shaft into her body when she finally pulled away, her mouth trailing down his neck in the same ways that he enjoyed doing with her. "No coming yet," she whispered against his the racing pulse in his neck, before she nipped at his skin.

He could only rumble in annoyance as she kissed, bit, and licked further down his body. When she got to his ripped stomach, she scooted down his thighs and pushed against his shoulder with one hand. Frowning, Zaraki collapsed backwards onto the bed of blankets and pillows, his head still held up to watch her journey downwards. Down…down…down…

His heart was pounding harder in his chest with every centimeter closer her mouth came to his aching need. Only once before had he ever let a woman's mouth come that close to his pride, and never while he was laid flat out on his back like a weakling. He had been the one to initiate it; he had been that one that pushed the whore to her knees in a dark alley in Rukongai. He had been the one that was disgusted with the lack of control the situation gave him, and walked off shoving his dick back into his hakama.

And oh dear sweet mother of zanpakutou—Katsue's lips were brushing against the soft skin of his inner thigh. Her other hand was stroking him again, gently. And then her tongue was licking at his sweat-slicked skin, and he couldn't help but arch his hips towards her as she finally…

"Oh, gods," he groaned and threw his head back as her tongue ran in an evil lick up the length of his cock. Her lips were wrapping around him, her mouth soft and hot and velvety smooth. Shuddering in utter delight, he buried his hands back in the thick waves of her hair. He could feel her tongue writhing against his sensitive flesh, could feel the friction of her lips locked in a tight seal around his shaft. His hips bucked as her teeth grazed him ever so slightly, and he couldn't help grinning up to the ceiling.

Katsue could suck his cock any damn time she felt like, he decided right then and there as his woman simply went to town on him. She was using her hand to stroke what parts of him she couldn't fit in her mouth, and he was pretty damn sure she was drawing in as much as she could with each bob of her head. He struggled to lift his head on his un-cooperating neck to watch, and nearly blacked out at the sight of her full pink lips wrapped around him.

"Katsue," he groaned and thrust into her mouth, earning him a hard pinch on his thighs from her free hand. He let out a stressed moan and fought to stay still, opting to squirm his legs instead. His stomach was clenching again, his loins burning and screaming for sweet release as she flexed her jaw around him. "Shit," he swore as his hips bucked reflexively, bringing him right back to the edge faster than her strong grip had.

And just as he was about to let loose, she stopped. Her hand was gripping his head in that bizarre way again as he let out a bellow of frustration and she grinned at him. "Not. Yet," she insisted.

"Come here!" he barked angrily at her and sat up in a rush, his arms going out to try and wrap possessively around her.

She tickled him again, and he let out another angry bellow as he tried to squirm away. "You," she spoke firmly, confidently as she straddled his waist again and gripped his shoulders in her strong hands. "Need to just sit there."

"Fuck that—"

"Relax," she purred and ground against his cock. "Will you feel better if I let you rip off my panties?"

Before the last syllable was out of her cruel mouth, his massive hands tore the frail lace from her hips. He snarled as he gripped her waist firmly and prepared to flip her over, only to receive another tickle.

"Really," she laughed as he flung himself back flat on his back in utter frustration. "I would have expected you to guard your pits by now."

"I hate you," he groaned pathetically on the verge of surrender.

But then she was grinding against him, the bare flesh between her legs burning hot and soaking wet. His body responded immediately and he was sitting up again, his thick muscled arms wrapping possessively around her body as he bit down roughly on her neck. This time it was him that got a sharp groan out of her. This time, he was able to buck and grind and thrust against her slick wetness without any restraint. And when he was about to roll them both over so that he could take her properly, she thrust her own body down onto his cock.

He barked out in surprised pleasure as he suddenly found himself sheathed down to the hilt in her searing core. She was tight—so blissfully, agonizingly tight. And he was swollen, hard, and heavy, and so ready to just blow up as fast as he possibly could. But she was on top. Holy hell.

Now that had never happened in his hundreds of long years of life.

He wasn't quite sure if he liked it.

"Let me put you on your back," he growled in her ear before sucking her lobe into his mouth. She was panting and breathless as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding his mouth against her even as she rose on his cock, only to slam herself back down. They both moaned—loudly. "Katsue…" he let the begging tone in his voice trail off into a sharp snarl as he bucked up into her, bouncing her on his cock.

"No," she gasped in his ear. "It's my turn to take care of you," she panted. "So just sit back, and relax!" and with a surge of strength she had him flat on his back again, her hands braced on his broad shoulders as she rode him ruthlessly.

He contented himself by gripping her hips in his strong hands and pulling her down onto his cock firmly, while his hips bucked roughly up to meet her. Each impact of their bodies meeting knocked both their breaths out of their lungs in loud groans and moans. His pelvis met hers in wet slaps of flesh meeting flesh, and every bounce up and down sent fire racing through his veins. Snarling, he cursed her between gritted teeth and finally managed to move fast enough to tear the evil cloth she wore right off of her.

She glared down at him indignantly but didn't slow down as he threw the stupid teddy away. Instead his eyes were riveted onto her bouncing breasts and taught stomach, her flush skin and the delicious sight of the V between her legs riding up and down on his throbbing erection. He grinned, yellow eyes burning as he looked back up to her, and watched as her eyes flashed red.

"Much better," he moaned at the pain of her nails biting into the thick cords of muscle in his shoulders. "Much, much, much better." His hands were sliding roughly on her hips, until he gripped her ass tightly in both of his hands.

"Kenpachi," she gasped and he rumbled in response. He could feel the growing change in her body all around his cock. She was getting gradually tighter, her fast thrusts down onto his cock and tight withdrawals off of it growing sloppier. Her breath was coming in shorter, raspier gasps. He moans of pleasure getting louder.

And he wasn't much better. He was snarling and growling and bucking without any rhyme or reason. All he was aware of was the electric tingle of ecstasy racing through his every nerve, and she was the source of it all. His body was on fire. His manhood was screaming with the urge for relief. She had taunted and teased him all night. Had brought him close to the brink of coming twice and abandoned him when he really needed it.

He should push her off and give her some of her own medicine. He should flip her over on her back and claim her like the man he was—she was his. His to do with as he pleased. His to lose himself blindly in the throws of sex with. His to screw until she screamed his name.

Tonight, though, it was all bass ackwards.

She brought him to release first—the pleasure of the moment exploding through every fiber of his being as he pounded up ruthlessly into the tight embrace of her womb. She was the one riding him into oblivion. She was the one grinning victoriously down at him as he absolutely roared until the rafters shook. And then she was joining him, finding her own release with his as she screamed along with him. They were crashing together, blind to the world, only aware of the ecstasy they could find with each other.

When it was all over, Zaraki lay panting among the tangles of their sheets and blankets. Katsue was collapsed on top of him, her lean body draped over his and her legs entwined in his legs. They were hot, covered in sweat, and completely and utterly spent. He didn't want to move, didn't feel like gently lifting her from his satiated cock. Didn't even feel like rolling them over so that he was finally the one on top. He just lay there, trying to catch his breath as Katsue did the same.

"I'm not going to work tomorrow," she finally gasped, her voice hoarse.

"Good," he rumbled in response. He finally mustered enough energy to simply wrap his arms possessively around her, his hands smoothing her long hair along her back.

"And neither are you," she challenged him, their eyes locking as she waited for him to argue back.

"Okay," he replied simply. His lips curled into a feral grin as he watched her yawn—loudly. "You know you're going to pay for this."

"Gods," she shivered, her gray eyes drooping closed as she settled in against his chest again, "I hope so."

He rumbled with content laughter as he simply held her against him, their chests pressed together as their hearts raced to calm down. He kissed the top of her head as she passed out cold, a soft snore escaping her. Purring, Zaraki gently rolled over on to his side so he could better tuck her against him. It wasn't the same as being on top, but he could settle for this much. "Mine," he rumbled in her ear, before settling in for a deep sleep himself.


This chapter was more than TWICE as long as the last, and is the LONGEST chapter yet. Hopefully that can make up for my insolence at not publishing this sooner. ; ;

Zaraki had a life-altering experience though, wouldn't you say? Hoo. *fans herself* Hot.