Hunger

As if in a daze, Ichigo ran his fingers in her hair, marveling at the softness of the glossy strands and he finally, finally was able to bury is face in it. He breathed in her scent as deeply as he could and nuzzled her until he reached her ear. Flicking out his tongue he gently traced the shell and finally came to nibble her earlobe, he continued kissing her along her delicate jaw line, all the while she whimpered and stepped back briefly to admire her.
She was beautiful, entrancing and finally going to be his, his alone. He ran a thumb along her broken and bleeding lower lip and she whimpered in pain. The bruise was purpling since he had struck her earlier. “Hush, hush, my little princess you should know when to keep quiet”, he whispered in her ear and felt fresh tears pooling in her violet eyes. “Ichigo, please…” she managed to choke out, in a pleading voice. How very unlike her he thought and he silenced her with a harsh, punitive kiss.
Chasing her had been fun but not nearly as fun as this. She had backed away from him trying to dominate him as usual but this time in wouldn’t work. He had her pined against the wall determined at last to take what was rightfully his. When she finally grasped his intentions and realized that there was no escape, for the first time since he had known her, the all powerful shinigami had finally cried for help as his hot hungry mouth was kissing along her collar bone. “Nii- sama….. Renji help” she had screamed and he backhanded her across the face wounding her lower lip and stunning her into silence. Putting his hand at her throat both reverently and menacingly, he whispered harshly “take another man’s name again and I’ll rip your tongue out. Those two were foolish enough to let you go, and now you’re mine, all mine”, and then proceeded to kiss her mouth, cheeks, eyelids, brow tasting the salt of her tears.
Breathing heavily he stared at her again in his lusty haze trying to drink in all the details about her appearance. He had ripped off her hakama pants, her kimono and breast bindings were in shreds barely concealing anything from his view and her wrists were bound behind her back with her kimono sash. He could see the trail of hickeys he had left all over her body, neck, chest, stomach, thighs while she had tried to reason with him helplessly. The only things between them were her white underwear and his own clothes. He could not wait any longer; he ripped the last barrier, stripped and stepped forward to claim his due.
As he buried himself inside her again and again, the sensations overwhelming him covered the sounds of her sobbing. “Rukia, Rukia,” he murmured like a drunken prayer closing his black and yellow eyes in bliss.