Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. I make no profit.
Theme: sexuality
Warning: M. OOC.
nymph and satyr
appleschan
Today, his coffee is black. There's chili in his breakfast. And he caught Grimmjow screwing a girl in the medical stock room. No big deal. Seriously. Except that she's his girlfriend. And that he's officially single for four lengthy hours.
Today, the birds are singing, the leaves are swaying, and the sun is smiling. Motherfucking literally.
Today, he gets a nymphomaniac for a patient.
"So, it says here, you think people hate you."
"That is correct."
He could talk better, he knows so. He could ask questions better instead of repeating words in her chart like some clueless intern -she probably thinks he's an intern.
Talking to her would be better, hell lot better, if her piercing and inquisitive violet eyes aren't sending bolus after bolus after bolus of blood directly to his cock because fuck, she's a turn on.
That, and if the contour of her legs does not function like a target for the male eyes.
Or if she isn't wearing a tight blouse that pops out her smooth cleavage.
Or if her voice doesn't sound stimulating like running a feather in his spine, or has a tingling effect similar to a woman sucking on his chest and neck.
Or if she doesn't have shapely hips that hint that yes, she's extremely doable. And pliant.
Or if only she's completely unaware that he's lusting.
He thinks she knows, oh wrong, he knows that she knows. The glint in her eyes tells him that this short woman is hard and a bitch, that she made men feel like either the luckiest bastards or the unluckiest.
With one hour to go before his shift ends, he formally starts their session inside this great big gray room.
"Okay, Miss...uh...Kuchiki, is it? How are you?"
To be continued.
super, super mini, mini side project during weekdays.