Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

Give Me Your Hand

A/N: Strong lemon.

Her fingers traced the wounds, ignoring the distasteful way he glowered at her. She knew how much he hated it when she teased, acting as though he were her plaything. But Retsu didn't care. She'd grown used to his unpleasant manner, having built up quite the defense against it. Her lips followed suit, moving gently so as to ease any pain that was present. They were fresh, she noted. The aftermath of yet another ghastly experiment. She hated it, the way he acted without regard, even for himself. Had he taken the time to seriously think about his actions before engaging, Retsu believed he would have been much more bearable.

But each mark had some kind of tale buried within, and she was sure that they would reveal secrets to her that Mayuri would never dare utter.

She loved the way it felt, his hands against her skin, following the gentle curves that flowed, tiny waves pulsating through her system. Her head was lifted gently, fingers tracing her jawline before being met with a crushing blow as his mouth melded to hers, starving for her sweet taste. She smiled, returning the gesture. He could be so sweet and intimate when he wanted to be, but she had learned that such a thing had to be pried out of his vice.

Retsu hummed quietly, her hips rising as she placed herself over him. A hiss reached her ears as she slid downward, a smile upon her lips as the breath caught in his throat. At first, she moved gently, creating a basic rhythm to be followed, bringing to light that dangerous spark that flashed through his eyes. She wasn't a sadist like he was, but she wouldn't deny that it was amusing, watching him squirm like this. She leaned forward, body covering his as she placed her lips to his throat, coaxing moans from him as she worked.

For so long had he played these same games with her, turning her into the toy of choice, forcing her to beg as she slipped into submission. It was new and thrilling, being the one in control, and Retsu could now understand his addiction from another perspective. After all, experience said far more than words could ever convey.

That usually collected surface was now pierced, his hands clinging to her with every shuddering breath. But there was a bit of guilt in her, for she felt almost as if she were pushing glass beneath his skin for her own entertainment. But further inspection of his gaze told a different story. He wanted her to want to be in control, to throw her own desires against his, to fight for what it was she wanted. He needed the intoxicating feel of opposition, the thrill it gave him.

Retsu kissed him, her hands moving across his torso again. She wanted to hear everything these scars would have to say. They'd been present far longer than she, and they'd know far more about him than she could ever hope to find. Shock moved through her as his hand, still trembling, covered hers, leading her fingers across the visible mysteries he'd branded himself with. She closed her eyes, her head resting upon his shoulder. They'd finally made a connection that seemed to run deeper than just blood and lust.

If that were the case, she'd have to leave a mark of her own.