Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. I make no profit.

Theme: down the rabbit hole –not a pun.

Warning: M. OOC. pf ref. language. lemon.

*chapter withdrawn. possibly wrong file. app not syncing. dunno which device i saved the correct version, i had to check first.

nymph and satyr

appleschan

present.

Just like she imagined, he's strong and fast and ruthless and unforgiving like how passionate rock stars and bad motherfuckers are.

"We are still in session, Ms. Kuchiki," he reminds her as he finally kicked his pants away and his hardened dick rests painfully just above the slope of her still clothed ass, "and it's therapeutic," then he goes back to the smooth skin of her neck to riddle it with marks.

Oh, he doesn't forget she stopped sucking his dick when he's about to come –what an evil little nymph bitch.

Ms. Kuchiki's body is pressed hard on his mattress that she's barely able to move her arms, and she can't move her lower limbs as he's hovering above her and he's not hesitant to show her he's looking forward into doing her.

From a tight hold around her neck forcing her down, Ichigo retracts his hand slowly and traces her back, encircles and again, plays with her breasts and massages it, tweaks her nipples –he hears an involuntary whimper from her lips and hell yes. His other hand, he brings it down to fondle her sides and arms and trace her supple curves –and she moans louder and arches her back and pushes her ass back up to him and oh fucking shit-

This little nymph is asking for his dick to ram her hard, really. But-

"Answer," he cajoles her in between breaths referring to his previous question how many have you fucked, while alternating between roughly and softly kneading her breast and sucking hard at her nape and yet another moan escapes from her lips. He thinks he likes her lips best, even if she doesn't like kissing.

-he's still working.

"Ahh, goddamn." He breathes against her skin, still waiting for her answer.

When he lifts his head slightly from sucking hard on her nape, he swears there's a trace of smirk on her lips but gone just as quickly replaced by a somewhat cloudy stare. This, of course, he'll reserve, he'll ponder later, whatever that small smirk means.

He lightly raised himself up, to see her again, beneath him, because this proves his position over her and it is turning him on.

"Answer," he leans down again and kisses her cheek lightly.

She doesn't.

"Bitch."

She doesn't answer though; she maintains that cloudy stare at him and he thinks, what a fucking complex woman –that he couldn't quite follow what she wants. But then, this is the purpose of this.

Lying there front down face to the side, dreamy or confused (he doesn't know) moans if touched intimately but hates being kissed, half-naked and –what the fuck? Half-naked? All these and yet, she still has her skirt still around her hips?

"Fucking-" he hisses as he forgot to tear her skirt apart. And it does matter, because his dick is probably weeping, and he should have already played with her entrance, too, and the first rule of executing a procedure is to prepare all the materials beforehand, "-skirt." And that he missed the detail.

He gets out of the bed, from hovering above her, fully naked, and he feels a strong and potent form of male bravado as Ms. Kuchiki looks at him, at his ripped body, at his dick as he walks around her, proud as fuck, motherfucking alpha male.

He properly pulls her position into supine and her eyes met his squarely. Her hair strewn across his sheets, her front completely bared until her waist where the buttons of her skirt are, her breasts -not too large- are perky with pink nipples, her skin is a stark contrast to his black sheets. She's small and petite and certainly fuckable. She feels no shame looking up at him, matching his gaze. There is something blood-rushing about the way she lays in his bed.

Strangely, he thinks, she's been docile after he held her down and he doesn't know why, still, he doesn't know what's going on in her mind.

And he doesn't know what she thinks of him, but he thinks Ms. Kuchiki –this bitch is fucking beautiful.

He leans down, kisses the top of her head and traces her breast to her sides until he grabs the top of her skirt around her waist, "this skirt," he holds it firmly then pulls down the fabric, "has to go."

This, of course, met another of-sort reaction from Ms. Kuchiki. After as he pulls down her skirt, she props herself using her elbow and places her right foot on his shoulder and slowly drags it down to his chest as if teasing him she doesn't smile at all, it's hard, no smirk, she lets her eyes talk. It's like teasing him to come fuck me now but at the same time, as if saying, butyou can't. He snorts and catches her foot as it reaches his abdomen and keeps it immobile –oh, she's wearing black lacy panties, "I don't understand you, woman –Ms. Kuchiki."

Ms. Kuchiki stares at him, oddly yet again, she doesn't look flirty or mischievous or a high-class escort, the way she stares at him (tiger look when he's about to kiss her) is like (he figures, it's the best to describe her current façade) she's challenging him. Of course, of course, it's a power struggle.

"3," Ms. Kuchiki says breathlessly.

His eyebrows arch then he smirks, understanding she just answered his question.

"I don't believe you." He says, tilting his head.

"Believe it," she insists. She un-props herself and he watches her writhe seductively in his bed right in front of him and her hands clutching his bed sheet and quietly moaning –and his body tensing hard, he knows she's trying to manipulate him or his dick, and she's succeeding and he feels he's breathing is starting to become hard and he thinks, what the fuck is he doing here standing like a fucking useless lump?

Rukia thinks she's close to get what she wants and then she can leave this contemptible orange-haired monkey-psychiatrist's lair.

"Right," he scoffs in defiance. With her right foot still held by him in one hand, he kneels down, careful to look at her in the eyes. He puts her other leg to rest against his shoulder and pulls her lithe body towards him, his face, right where it should be, positioned nicely to fuck her with his tongue.

Yet, that's not all what he has in mind, "Are you lying?" he teases, kisses her inner thigh, dragging his tongue across her soft skin and takes a short, quick poke at her clothed entrance –and damp it is- using his right hand.

"Ahh," she breathes out quietly, arching her back, "no," this man is terribly insufferable, too, teasing her with her panties still on. Rukia tugs at her panties, which, became a hindrance, take it off, take it off –but he pushes her hand away. She presses her lips together, fuck this man.

Ichigo takes-in his effect, ahh, very good, she didn't like long drawn-out foreplay, right there, his head in between her legs, being skillful with his hands. This, of course, is his advantage, "Are you lying?" he asks again as he palms her through her lace-clothed entrance hard then inserts two of his fingers inside the lace to caress her smooth folds –just her folds, and that it's drenched. And he likes it.

"No." she answers breathlessly yet again.

"Ms. Kuchiki, we'll keep on doing this until you admit it," he takes a lap at her entrance, a short, quick stroke of his tongue, she taste like snow and honey.

Another, "Are you lying?" and double stroke of his tongue and it's like he's electrifying her. She grips his hair out of frustration or excitement or annoyance, he is incredibly, incredibly good.

"No!" there is some sort of sadistic pleasure seeing Ms. Kuchiki tries hard to cover her pained expression.

"Then," it all boils down to this, "who are these 3?" he asks finally.

Her eyes flash and he knows he found a loophole –whether true or not, he'll exploit it viciously. Who are these 3, indeed.

Alarmingly so, he senses the change in her and he has a brief flash of her thinking of fleeing him. But before she could move an inch, he lets go of her thighs and catches her hands, keeping them together and then, literally rips her lace panties off using his teeth.

She cries out as the strings snap and her cry is cut midway as he pushes his tongue deeply inside her and mercilessly lap at her wetness and inner folds. She writhes helplessly beneath this man's mouth, her hips moving in disarray, this man, oh this man.

As for Ichigo, he traces her folds skillfully and deliberately, liking it that each stroke of his tongue produces a nerve-wrecking reaction from her. He keeps her wrists in tight grasp as he deepens his exploration. He reaches her clitoris, swirling his tongue madly, and making her body convulse. Her cries alternate between moans and shouts and this man is just hateful. He keeps his tongue movements, licking the smooth and sensitive muscle and bringing Ms. Kuchiki higher and higher and higher-

But he suddenly rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, having licked the last of her drops, smirking at her. This leaves her panting hard and shocked and unsatisfied. He rises, with that wolfish and triumphant grin, and she so hates it, so so hates it. He leaves her in this state. A man overcame her.

He rises and comes to lie beside her, sighing. She couldn't keep her eyes of him, he's hateful as much as he is attractive as much as he is irresistible.

He still has that smirk when he turns to her, "you can leave if you want." One raised eyebrow, a lopsided smirk while stroking his hardened dick slowly. This is a pointless statement. There's no way he's letting her leave after that and there's no way she's leaving.

Oh this hateful, hateful man!

Ms. Kuchiki lies there, spent and throbbing, and not quite satisfied.

Ichigo lies there breathing hard and in a way, pleased; he's quite sure he riled the woman so much that she wouldn't leave him –at least, not this way.

"Remember you did that to me a few minutes ago," he says, gleeful –when she stopped sucking his dick. Yeah payback, bitch.

She just stares at him, annoyed, oh this hateful, hateful man.

"You can leave if you want…" he repeats, enjoying its effect on her, stretching out his arms and watching her stand from her position and glares at him, "that's what you were trying to do a little while ag-"

He's cut off as Ms. Kcuhiki punches him, then straddles his hips then kisses him in the lips hard.

She claws at his chest and shoulder, oh this hateful man, hoping to draw more blood than what she did in his neck, oh this hateful man.

She could feel him smirking at her lips and he makes no move to stop her from clawing him, he puts his hands on her hips and gropes her. He kisses her back just as much and possibly harder, he's getting a reaction out of Ms. Kuchiki and this is exactly what he's aiming for.

Goddamn it, he thinks when he feels her rub herself on him, and his dick screams madly for her.

"You were holding my hair," she stops to tell him, "I said I don't like it."

"Sorry, then," he pushes her head to him to kiss her again. Husky and turned-on. Goddamn. It's better when she's cooperative, as Ms. Kuchiki's tongue seeks his out aggressively and he can taste her lip gloss.

She straddles him, on his narrow hips.

"Tell me," she whispers in his lips, quiet and dangerous and sensual, her violet eyes so bright, so so bright, "who's fucking who?"

Ichigo lowers her lips to his once more, nipping her lower lip, smelling her jasmine scent, closes his eyes briefly, his hand on her back, feeling her breasts flat on his chest, feeling her curves against him, he says, "you," then opens his eyes, "fuck me," he tells her.

"Fuck me," he repeats.

Ms. Kuchiki kisses his lips softly, then trails his neck, she licks the wounds she inflicted. "Fuck me, Ms. Kuchiki," he tells her, fisting her hair and just feeling her soft lips against the lines of his neck and collarbone, and his dick standing in full attention.

She kisses like a fairy, light and airy and leaves him light headed and dazed and she's fucking pretty and never mind she punched him and all he can think about is his dick so so hard for her. Ms. Kuchiki nails were no longer clawing at him, she soothes his heaving chest with her light fingertips and fuck him for thinking he's a motherfucking alpha male when he so easily crumbles against her.

This is the nymph, somewhere at the back of his mind, this is the nymph.

"Oh-!" Ms. Kuchiki has a talented mouth, "-shit!" really, really. She doesn't even need to pin him, he'll lie here and let her. Her mouth circles his nipple and it's this good, "ahh, fuck!"

Kurosaki Ichigo isn't a screamer.

She moves lower and reaches his abs, which, constricted and ripped at the contact. He raises himself slowly and watches her while she herself watches him. Goddamn, those violet eyes. And he feels himself throbbing intensely, almost coming, anticipating any, any contact. She gets lower, down to his narrow hips when he feels her hand grips his dick, then he moans out loud involuntarily, masculine like the one he released a little more early when her lips first touched his dick. She strokes it slowly while looking at him straight, he thinks its torture.

"Ms. Kuchiki," his mouth runs dry as she puts him in her warm mouth one more time, the girth perfect for her, and looks at him while sucking him slowly, "ahh," he thinks it's definitely torture.

She's finished but he's not and he wants to complain and it's becoming an unhealthy habit between the two of them and he wants to continue to bob her head up and down and he would but she smiles at him, a rare one, and so sudden too that it caught him off-guard and before he knows it, she's back at his lips and mimicking his earlier movements and pushing him down, her small palms on his cheeks, her lips softly teasing his lips.

"I will fuck you slowly," she tells him softly, her palms shift to pull on his orange hair.

"Sure," he's helpless and he knows it and she knows it.

He lies down and with Ms. Kuchiki straddling his hips, her palms flat on his chest, and his hands groping her round ass, he never felt manlier before –goddamn it.

Ms. Kuchiki needs no help, and easily eases herself down to his dick, leisurely and expertly and she makes no pained expression at accommodating his girth and length, she's moaning and breathless and it's perfect. And he's convulsing while entering her tight entrance slowly, he bit his lips, keeping that humiliating yelp from her.

She stays on top of him, moving her hips slowly, twisting her body teasingly, arching her back to make him deeper, fucking him slowly because she thinks he's the kind of man who's used to carnal fuck marathon.

His body is broad and ripped and he lets her ride him slowly on his own bed. He thinks she's just alluring, all naked and sweating. And he grunts, long and drawn out, and she's tight and slick. And his grip on her ass turns into kneading as he urges her to go faster-

-and she shush-es him.

Ms. Kuchiki does not look down on him, yet she clutches his shoulders hard and runs her palms in his chest and abdomen as she –so it would seem- pleasures herself.

So he watches her carefully, yet at the same time, enjoys her body, riding him in different pace and sees the different expressions on her face.

He clutches her hips and thrusts upward, once, the she lets him, he does it again in quick succession, embedding himself deeply, bringing their pelvis together, and Ms. Kuchiki looks down at him, her eyes flashing warningly.

"Just lie there," she says quietly, closing her eyes, pulling her head back, and continues to twist her body, make those provocative movements and huff delightfully, enjoying his body.

Never, thinks Ichigo. Never a woman who is familiar to his bed told him to just lie there.

Nevertheless, he does what he is told, and lies there, hopelessly looking at her, at her perky breasts moving in enticingly, at her hips, and at his dick going in and out of her. He looks at her like he's in a trance.

He feels Ms. Kuchiki tightens, and he knows she's close. He thinks of kissing her, but does not.

He watches as she moves deliriously, throws her head back, his toes curling in the sight, he feels his own impending convulsion. He puts his hands on her hips, and holds her in place, and thrusts again to reach his own just as he hears as a low, satisfied and incredibly mind-numbing moan escapes her lips.

It's the last thrust, and he comes and he thinks Ms. Kuchiki is the prettiest nymph forever and ever and ever and ever.

He comes hard, but not quite.

"You didn't meet Grimmjow, did you? That little shit is always parading his metal dick, really," he says, "he fucked my ex with it today-" 30 minutes after she fucked him, with a coffee in one hand, he tells her.

"I do not-"

The man glances at his square clock, noticing it is past 12 and quickly amends himself, "-yesterday."

"-care," she states. She truly doesn't and need not to explain herself.

While buttoning herself up (she bought a spare set of clothes, it's always a standard), she hears a soft click and sees her shadow looming before her, he opened a lamp.

"Hey," he calls, "thanks." Then she hears rustling of papers.

But she doesn't spare him a glance. She doesn't even care how odd he sounded, thanking her. She doesn't want to stay longer. She'll say no more and just go.

Ms. Kuchiki gets up-

"Thanks for coming," He continues.

Ms. Kuchiki ignores him and the smug tone in his voice and heads straight to the door-

"I finally got your diagnosis, Ms. Kuchiki," Mr. Kurosaki says louder when she's at the door, "wouldn't you like to hear it?"

She looks back at him to see him wearing (still) nothing but his black-framed eyeglasses, standing there beside the lamp holding a (she squints her eyes) pen and an opened patient's chart which she guesses to be hers.

"This is a diagnostic procedure." Yeah, you fucking me.

Oddly, he smiles at her (the kind and pleasant and welcoming psychiatrist type) and she thinks he's entirely unconvincing with that full frontal nudity and raging hard-on and ruffled bright orange hair.

"You think you're the one manipulating me?"

She looks away. Idiot. She opens the door but not before hearing him say-

"Fine. Breakfast later then." It isn't a question.

–then shuts the door, severely uninterested, he does think she'll take him and whatever he says seriously.

to be continued

edit. 01.19.15 oh, so this is the correct version after all.