Fic:Uraichi Drabble Collection: Overlooked
Jun. 9th, 2008 06:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
conjure_lassSo, in an effort to really get the emotion down of these two (I need that to write smut, otherwise it won't come out right), I have begun a collection of drabbles. They fall into the Sour Apple storyline and are meant to be taken somewhere between the first chapter and the fourth.
Author: Conjure Lass!
Title: Overlooked: A Collection
Rating: Pg-13 overall
Pairing: Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo
Warnings: None, just rampant fluff. Wee!
Summary: Our relationships are made of tiny moments strung together to form the bigger picture. These two are no different.
This is where you'll find all the chapters of the Overlooked collection (from first to fifth so far)! You can also find this on my fanfiction.net account if you feel so inclined under the name Easily Overlooked.
Overlooked
Ichigo had been staring at the same trigonometry problem for the past twenty minutes with little to no success. He’d write something down, scratch it out, erase a little bit, write some more, and then continue staring…he wasn’t getting anywhere! He knew he had to play catch up with the rest of his class, but it wasn’t proving to be the easiest thing in the entire world to do. The problem seemed to get longer the more he stared at it, increasing in difficulty the more times he tried to solve it.
Was he just stupid or something? Was being a shinigami making him dumber?
“What’s wrong Ichigo?” he heard from the doorway, turning to see Kisuke come in through the sliding screen carrying a tray of hot tea and some kind of random cookie looking thing. It had to be foreign, Kisuke loved those sorts of things.
Huffing softly, he blew a lock of his hair out of his eyes and felt his bottom lip come out. Was he pouting? “Nothing,” he answered sulkily, scratching angrily at the spot on his paper where he’d attempted the problem at least six times. “I’m just an idiot apparently.”
Urahara made a noise beside him, somewhere between a sniff and a clucking of the tongue. “You are no such thing,” he admonished, setting down the tray without moving its contents and sliding up behind Ichigo until their bodies were pressed together and a long line of heat had begun to form. Legs clad in green spread to either side of his thighs as he was pulled in closer, Kisuke’s chin resting on his shoulder so that he could read the paper in front of them while wrapping his arms around Ichigo‘s waist.
“Well,” Urahara murmured into Ichigo’s ear. “You need a new piece of paper. You’re frustrating yourself.”
Complying wordlessly, Ichigo pulled a fresh piece of paper from his small stack and recopied the problem from the original ruined one. “And now?” he said petulantly, resting comfortably against the chest at his back but still feeling too stubborn to calm down. “Is the problem magically going to do itself or am I suddenly going to get smarter?”
“Ichigo,” Urahara’s voice went an octave lower, his serious tone. Ichigo bit at his lip slightly at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, knowing he’d struck a nerve he hadn’t meant to. The gray eyes were glancing at him from the corner, a pale eyebrow raised menacingly.
When Ichigo was quiet again Urahara looked down at the open book that the problem had come from, then back at the paper, than back at the open book. His demeanor changed suddenly, pushing his face into Ichigo’s shoulder as his body shook with soundless laughter.
Not understanding what was going on, Ichigo pushed his head against Urahara’s , eyes narrowing in annoyance. “What? What’s so funny? I swear, if you’re laughing at me-!”
“No, no Ichigo,” Urahara murmured, moving to kiss the soft patch of skin behind Ichigo’s ear, making him shiver. “I think I know what the dilemma is.”
“What?” Ichigo asked, turning his head to place a chaste kiss on Kisuke’s lips. “Are you going to do my homework for me?”
“No,” Kisuke responded, narrowing his eyes and pushing his finger onto the tip of Ichigo’s nose. “But it might be a good idea to actually copy the problem down correctly from the book…you tend to get further when the numbers are accurate.”
Blinking a few times, Ichigo turned his attention to the problem at hand, eyes widening when he discovered that-yes-he had indeed copied the problem down wrong a half hour ago! Mouth falling open slightly, he turned to see Kisuke moving back over to the teapot and pouring some steaming liquid into two delicate china cups.
“Oftentimes Ichigo,” Kisuke said with a wink, pushing one cup to him “the solution is the thing we most easily overlook.”
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Nostalgia
Urahara Kisuke preferred the quiet. Blissful serenity made it easier to think, easier to work, easier to observe, easier to calm down, and was (in his opinion) just all-around better than the constant cacophony that the modern world seemed to provide.
But not today.
Today as he lay on his futon with his blond hair falling over his face, he felt as though the noiselessness was stifling, bearing down upon him until his breath seemed shallow and insubstantial. Though he was loathe to admit it, he absolutely hated this day…the day his life was irrevocably changed, the day he lost everything. Exile. Banishment. Ostracism. No label he could come up with seemed to make it any better, no words powerful enough to describe the absolute terror of being forcefully wrenched away from your birthplace.
He should have been over it by now, and for the most part he was. There was a freedom here in the living world that he hadn’t been able to find in Soul Society. But that didn’t mean that being unable to return home was any less painful. Most years he allowed the day to go by unnoticed, submerging himself in work so that he wouldn’t dwell upon it or give it any sort of hold on his emotions. If you were to ask him about it he would blow the question off, downplaying the event, acting as though he didn’t care at all. But…sometimes…like now? Right now he was desperately homesick. He wanted to go home!
Badly.
He had just pulled the covers up over his head, burying his nose in his pillow, when he heard the door to his bedroom slide open. Who the hell was disturbing him? Hadn’t he said an hour ago that he was going to bed and that he didn’t want to be bothered until tomorrow morning? Was it so much to ask to simply be left alone to indulge in the emotions that he so rarely allowed himself to fully feel? Was that so selfish?
Kisuke could hear socks trailing along the floor tentatively, as though unsure of their welcome, towards him. They paused when they reached the futon, shifting back and forth nervously before the figure knelt down. A solid minute passed by torturously as Urahara lay motionless, refusing to pull the covers from his head to look at his uninvited guest. Let them just stay out there…he didn’t care! They could sit there all damn day and stare at his sleeping form and he wouldn’t be even slightly concerned. It would serve them right for being so insensitive.
“Kisuke?” came the soft voice, laced with concern and unspoken emotion.
Urahara’s breath left him slowly, pulling down the covers so that only his the top of his head and his eyes were showing above the sheets to peer at his visitor. Ichigo. The brown eyes that so often held anger or stubborn resolution were now overshadowed with worry, the redhead’s jaw set in a tense line. His hand was partially extended towards the bed, as though he had been in the process of reaching out to touch Kisuke when he was interrupted. Even his hair was a little more messy than normal. The younger man seemed completely distressed.
Their eyes met and Kisuke sighed audibly, blinking bleary eyes before closing them again and snuggling more securely in his sheets. He could hear Ichigo above him give a small grunt of disapproval, the hand extending fully to touch his blonde hair, attempting to give comfort. It made something in Kisuke’s chest loosen just a little to feel those fingers moving so easily through his hair, trailing lower onto his cheek, caressing his cheekbone gently. He’d never had anyone really console him about his banishment before. No one. Not in a hundred years.
Not even Yoruichi had been able to coax a genuine response from Urahara in regards to the matter…and she had tried very very hard. What was the point really? What could she (or anyone) say to make him feel better about it?
“Do you still miss it?” Ichigo whispered, finally scooting the rest of the way down and grabbing the edge of the blanket to lift it up. Kisuke shifted to the side to allow the redhead to enter his futon, opening his eyes again to let their gazes meet. Ichigo was regarding him with scrutiny, observing his motions and reactions carefully. It wasn’t something that the younger man had done too often when Urahara had first met him. Oh, how things had changed.
When Kisuke nodded, almost wincing in shame, Ichigo’s arms came around him. The act was so sudden, so unexpected, that it made Urahara start, blinking dumbly as though it were the first time he‘d ever been held by another living being. His breaths were coming faster now, not able to stop his hands from coming up to clutch at the younger mans’s shirt, moving his head from the pillow to bury it in the crook of Ichigo’s neck.
They’d never had this kind of reversal of roles, slipping out of their normal part to wear the mask of the other. Usually it was Kisuke comforting Ichigo, always being the supporting rock that the redhead leaned upon. Now, things had taken an abrupt about-face and Urahara was left wondering when he’d become so juvenile and when Ichigo had become so strong.
“It’s okay you know,” Ichigo murmured, nuzzling at Urahara’s hair with his nose. “It‘s normal to be sad about it. I wish you’d told me. I would have stayed over last night.”
Kisuke didn’t respond verbally, instead wrapping his arms securely around the slim body next to him and kissing Ichigo’s neck. The world was narrowing now, emotions that he kept firmly in check bubbling to the surface. Each moment was a struggle to keep himself at least partially in control, to not allow his outside demeanor to totally crash and burn. But there was so much comfort there in Ichigo‘s voice, such tenderness in his actions, that it was enough to warm up the small, icy place in Urahara’s chest where he kept all the pain and disappointment of his previous life.
Previous life. The life before Ichigo. Before any of this. Had it been emptier?
“You’re home now, right?” Ichigo’s voice was barely a wisp as he clutched Kisuke closer to him, his hands running down the blonde’s spine. “Right?”
“Yes Ichigo,” Urahara finally found his voice, though it was small and almost quivering. His weakness was oozing from him in embarrassing waves…but he didn’t care. Not with Ichigo. Not right now. “I am.”
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Evergreen
Ichigo’s birthday had been the week before. The occasion had been spent as it usually was with his family and closest friends at the Kurosaki clinic, which had been redecorated (in pastels, much to Ichigo’s horror) by a very enthusiastic Orihime. Isshin had wanted to have the party at the zoo, but that idea had been effectively nixed after it was discovered that the last time he had gone the monkeys had mysteriously gotten out of their cages and run rampant. Isshin denied the claim.
Urahara hadn’t been invited, but then he really hadn’t expected to be. While Isshin and Karin were aware of his and Ichigo’s relationship, dear Yuzu was not, nor were his friends. Kisuke, while on the inside being a little disappointed, had nevertheless thought it better not to make his presence known let awkward questions be asked. Ichigo had protested of course, saying that Urahara was just as important to him as family and should be there…but Kisuke hadn’t given in. The last thing he wanted was for Ichigo to feel uncomfortable on his birthday, which Urahara’s appearance was bound to do.
Ichigo had walked away slowly after that argument, his reiatsu pulsing with some strange mix of emotions that Urahara couldn’t place. He only knew that the younger man was desperately upset. Only that there were things Ichigo had left unsaid.
And so it was a week later and Ichigo hadn’t come to visit him even once. Urahara had a feeling he knew what the problem was, but since the redhead wouldn’t return his calls he couldn’t confirm or deny his suspicions. Eventually (after the fifteenth or so call) he’d given up and decided to wait Ichigo out, knowing that the younger man was stubborn and would only come around after he’d thought things through.
Now he found himself sitting on his back porch, staring out at the lot of small trees with a cooling cup of tea that he couldn’t seem to bring himself to drink and an incredibly heavy heart. Maybe he should have just given in to Ichigo’s request, maybe then he wouldn’t be so lonely…maybe Ichigo wouldn’t be so angry at him. Maybe Ichigo wasn’t angry at all. Maybe it was something else entirely. Kisuke wasn’t sure. As much of a genius as he may have been, he was woefully inexperienced in the ways of love and relationships. Why didn’t intelligence and common sense ever apply to these situations?!
Sighing softly, he looked down at the contents of his cup as though they held the answers to all his questions. Nothing was making sense right now…
“Why are you sitting out here all alone Kisuke?” the soft voice came from behind him, making Urahara drop his cup in surprise. The china shattered on the rocks below, tea splashing up onto Urahara‘s bare feet before the quiet rushed back in to meet them. Kisuke had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even felt Ichigo come into the shop, nor had he heard it when he walked out onto the porch.
He didn’t turn to look at the younger man, not wanting to see anger in those brown eyes directed at him. “I didn’t feel like working,” he murmured, his voice sadder than he had meant it to be. Ichigo had the innate ability to strip away his ability to hide his emotions without even having to try. “I couldn’t concentrate anyway…”
The silence settled back in around them, a stifling thing rather than a comfort. The sensation was so foreign in Ichigo’s company that it caused him to close his eyes against a sudden swell of sadness, biting gently at his bottom lip. There was no sound for a few moments, the atmosphere becoming so still that Urahara thought Ichigo had left. It would serve him right, he supposed.
So it was no small surprise when he felt the younger man’s arms wrap around him from behind, Ichigo’s body pressing a warm line against his spine, burying his face in the back of Kisuke’s neck. Instantly Urahara responded, linking his fingers with the ones clutching at his shirt and leaning back into the warmth. He could feel Ichigo’s heart pounding fast against him and felt his own pulse speed up in reply.
“Are you ashamed of me?” came the nearly inaudible question, muffled by Kisuke’s hair.
Kisuke’s heart nearly stopped, his eyebrows coming together as his misgivings were all confirmed for him. Yes…that’s what he’d thought was wrong. Instead of taking Urahara’s refusal to attend his birthday celebration as a way to avoid unnecessary stress, Ichigo had taken it as a sign that he was embarrassed about their relationship…not wanting others to know out of shame.
Instantly Urahara turned in Ichigo’s arms, pushing their foreheads together and meeting that burning ochre stare with something less than complete confidence. There was no anger there like he had imagined, only layer upon layer of dejection and confusion. His hands came up slowly, cradling Ichigo’s cheeks in his palms and running the pads of his thumbs over the delicate skin. If he had known Ichigo was this distressed he would have broken into his room days ago to remedy the situation. The thought that his young lover had been feeling this way for an entire week made something in his chest squeeze almost painfully tight.
“No, Ichigo,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “Never.”
“Then why don’t you want anyone to know about us?” Ichigo questioned further, his eyes opening wider as though to hold in tears. “Why are we keeping it a secret?”
It was in this moment that Kisuke realized just how inept he really was at this sort of emotional thing, how much he really didn’t know. It was hard to accept that he, quite possibly the most intelligent person in the world, was an absolute maladroit when it came to the simplest human contact. He could tell you how a person would react, how they would behave under any set of circumstances…but to actually be involved in those circumstances seemed to throw him for a proverbial loop.
“I thought it would be easier for you,” he tried to explain lamely, not able to pull the right words up. “I’m not the sort of person that’s easy to explain. You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable because I’m around.”
He looked away, no longer able to meet Ichigo’s eyes. The words were pouring out now, Kisuke unable to stop them, his usual reserve buried somewhere beneath the pain in Ichigo‘s voice and his own raging confusion.
“Not only are we both men but…I’m a few centuries older than you. I don’t want you to have to defend yourself to others because of me--”
He was cut off by Ichigo’s hand slapping itself over his mouth, the redhead drawing their gazes together again. “Shut up!” he practically growled, making Kisuke’s eyes widen. Before he could respond Ichigo continued, his voice getting louder. “I don’t care about any of that! Don’t you think I knew what I was doing when I got into this? I’m not stupid Kisuke!”
The hand was withdrawn from his face, but Urahara didn’t speak. Ichigo had that look in his eye, the one Urahara first remembered seeing in the training room beneath the shop, that resolve that could crush the world. It left him stunned, a little bewildered, a bit proud, and all together thunderstruck.
“You’re always so guilty!” Ichigo persisted, shaking Urahara’s shoulders. “You always think you’ve done something wrong! This isn’t wrong Kisuke…”
Ichigo paused, his face becoming pained again. He seemed at a loss for words, as though he’d said everything he wanted to say and now couldn’t think of what to do. In the end he leaned forward, pressing his hot cheek against Kisuke’s shoulder, closing his eyes. A slow breath against his neck made Kisuke shiver as Ichigo’s voice came out slightly broken. “This isn’t wrong…”
Urahara blinked, arms now hanging loosely at his sides, mouth opening and closing a few times dumbly. When had Ichigo gotten so smart? When had he gone from a rash teenager into a mature young man capable of such emotional stability? It made Kisuke smile, reaching up to trail his fingers through the orange spikes before taking a deep breath.
“You know what Ichigo,” he whispered, feeling the redhead stir beside him. “You’re right.”
“I am?” Ichigo raised his head up, a small smirk gracing his features. “You mean, for once you’re actually admitting that I’m right?”
“Don’t gloat too much,” Kisuke said, boldly reaching forward and brushing their lips together. “I‘m not one to allow this sort of thing to happen too often.”
Ichigo chuckled quietly, curling into his body with an almost purr. The tension that lingered between them was draining away, leaving the air feeling cooler, easier to breath. Kisuke nuzzled against Ichigo’s head, resisting the urge to sigh happily as that would have been terribly unmanly of him. He had an image to maintain after all.
“No more hiding, right?” Ichigo asked, his voice happier…almost hopeful.
“Correct.”
They sat together that way for a few minutes, neither speaking, the only communication being conveyed by slow caresses across slightly moist skin. Urahara hadn’t noticed due to the situation (and his own angst over said situation), but the night was actually quite warm. Warm enough that he was starting to imagine a cool bath might be rather nice. Maybe some ice cubes floating around in there…a choice rubber ducky or two…
“What did you get me for my birthday?” Ichigo questioned suddenly, as though he’d just thought of it and couldn’t wait to ask.
Kisuke laughed abruptly, falling backwards onto the wooden porch and bringing Ichigo with him so that the younger man lay draped across his body. Without a word he reached into his green haori and pulled out an old and worn picture, handing it to Ichigo with a grin. It was a photo taken back when he was a captain, smiling in front of the Institute on its opening day, Hiyori punching Hirako in the background. Ichigo had often asked what he’d been like when he was in Soul Society, and nearly every time he had somehow dodged the question. Too many painful memories, too many questions he didn’t want to answer.
So in a way, this was like allowing Ichigo into his past…somewhere he hadn’t allowed anyone else to be for a very long time. A free pass into who he once was, if that was what Ichigo truly wanted.
Ichigo looked at it intently, bringing the photo to his face, before turning it over and smiling in a strange way. Finding himself puzzled by the expression, Urahara nearly asked him if he liked it or not, wanting clarification. But before he could get even the first words out, he found his lips forcefully covered by Ichigo’s, his breath stolen and all words lost in the passionate exchange.
Letting his arms come up around Ichigo’s back, he brought their bodies flush together, rolling so that he was on top…the photo coming out of Ichigo’s grasp to gently flutter to the ground…
For You…Evergreen. Yours, Kisuke.
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Ume
The air smelt of orange blossoms, warm and humid, as it blew Ichigo’s hair back from his face. Blessed relief. This June had proven to be a particularly balmy one and a fine line of sweat was already beading up at his hairline, irritating the skin. He wiped it away with the tips of his fingers before turning his head to look out the open car window. Though he’d seen this particular scenery many times before, he knew that he most likely wouldn’t remember a thing about it. He never did. The buildings, the orchards, the rolling hills covered with some kind of strange clover…he wasn’t really paying any attention to it.
His mind was, as it always was this time of year, somewhere else entirely.
A quiet rustling from beside him drew his attention away from the landscape to his companion who was currently looking somewhat confusedly at the map in his hand. Kisuke had been amazingly quiet the entire trip, only speaking when it was absolutely necessary and keeping the car ride smooth. Now he was slowing said vehicle down to stare at the roadmap, biting his bottom lip in a way that made him seem much younger than he actually was. The gesture caused Ichigo to smile despite himself, shaking his head before reaching out to point down at their current location.
“Take the next right,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the back of Urahara’s hand. In the past his family had always gone to his mother’s grave by train, thereby making knowing the way by car unnecessary. But since he’d asked Kisuke to take the trip with him this year it unfortunately presented them with a unique problem. Ichigo, as of yet, was not in possession of a car. To that end they’d decided to take the older man’s minivan (not exactly cool, but it would work in a pinch), going a week early so that the two of them could visit Masaki in private. Ichigo had wanted the first time he introduced the blonde to his mother to be alone…though he wasn’t certain why.
“Thank you,” Urahara replied sheepishly, linking their fingers and giving Ichigo’s hand a small squeeze before looking back at the road. Though he would never tell him, Ichigo had been secretly astonished to see how good of a driver Urahara actually was. He had been half-expecting the eccentric man to either be a speed-demon or get distracted and land them in a ditch somewhere. So it had been a pleasant surprise when the entire two-hour trip was remarkably without incident (save for hitting that pothole the size of a child’s swimming pool early in the morning).
Quiet settled heavy in the car, broken only by the purr of the engine (Urahara had modified it so that it ran on spirit energy) and the soft whoosh of passing automobiles on the other side of the road. He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the radio, finding it more of an annoyance than a calming agent today. It was strange, but as much as he loved his mother, he found that most of the time he wanted nothing more than to have the visits to her grave be over quickly. They hurt…and Ichigo was not fond of emotional pain.
Suddenly Urahara cleared his throat, once more drawing Ichigo’s eyes to his face. He seemed as though he might be attempting to say something, mouth opening and closing a few times, though the redhead was bewildered as to what it might be. Of course, there was the obvious conversation, but so far Kisuke had been avoiding that topic.
Another squeeze at his hand and the quiet was finally broken. “Are you all right?” Urahara questioned, his voice small and reserved, not like his usually boisterous tone at all. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Ichigo smiled wistfully, rubbing soothing circles against the skin of Kisuke’s hand. This was the third time that the older man had posed that particular question. The first time being directly after Ichigo had asked Urahara to accompany him to his mother’s grave, the second time while they were eating breakfast outside at one of the small restaurants in the countryside. And just like previously, Ichigo’s response was the same: a simple smile and a kiss to the blonde’s cheek before waving away his concerns.
“Stop asking,” he said with a small laugh. “If I wanted to change my mind I would have done it already.”
“All right,” Kisuke murmured.
The rest of the ride seemed to go by more quickly, Ichigo’s nerves fraying the closer they got to the memorial site. Eventually he found himself squeezing Kisuke’s hand so hard that he heard the other man grunt quietly, Ichigo giving him an apologetic look before releasing the blonde’s (slightly purple) fingers. He hated this…hated it! So why did he keep torturing himself year after year by coming here? The question seemed like a simple one, easily answered, but when Ichigo looked inside himself for the solution all he found was his mother’s eyes…so dead and lifeless…staring at him…through him…
“I think we’re here,” Urahara’s voice broke through his thoughts, startling him so much that it felt like his heart had jumped into his throat. What the hell?!
Ichigo forced himself to sit unmoving for a moment to wrestle with himself, trying to force his tense muscles to relax. He had to get it together if he wasn’t going to embarrass himself in front of Kisuke. Not that the older man would probably mind…after all…they were a couple now, right? Couples were supposed to rely on each other for strength during their weaker moments. Lean on each other. So why did he feel so self-conscious about Urahara seeing him in such a pathetic state?
The car door opened beside him, a pale hand reaching out to grab his arm and unceremoniously drag him from the car. Before he could protest he was drawn into a warm hug, Kisuke’s arms wrapping around his body tightly while their cheeks brushed together tenderly. The embrace accomplished its goal, soothing him, calming his turbulent emotions enough to let him breath again. His own hands moved slowly down Urahara’s back, mapping the planes of muscle clutching at the blonde’s shirt for the briefest of instants before pulling away.
“Come on Kurosaki-kun,” Urahara said, walking in the direction of the small road that led into the graves. “Let’s go talk to Masaki-san and then I’ll take you out for dinner someplace quiet, hmm?”
“Okay,” Ichigo replied, going out in front so that he could lead the way. “You know, after I found out that you and my dad used to know each other…I kind of thought that you‘d have met my mom before.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Kisuke’s expression change marginally, his eyes flickering and the set of his shoulder‘s squaring, the muscle in his jaw getting a little bit more tense. It was during these observations that Ichigo realized how very in tune he was with the older man…how much things had changed. Back when they’d first met, he would have never noticed such a tiny change in Kisuke’s demeanor, wouldn’t have had the faintest idea how he was reacting to a statement at all. Now it seemed as though the blonde’s every motion was easily read, laid bare for Ichigo to see.
“You did, didn’t you?” Ichigo said pulling Urahara to his side. “I figured as much. Were you friends?”
“No,” Urahara said, obviously not willing to put any effort into hiding things further as they continued to walk up the steep hills leading to Masaki‘s grave. “I only met her once in passing. I don’t even think you could really call it a meeting since we never spoke…more like a glance.”
“Oh,” Ichigo replied, a little disappointed. He would have been lying if he hadn’t said that he kind of wished they were friends so he could hear more about her. He’d always been curious about the kind of person his mother had been as a younger woman. Was she rebellious? Hotheaded? Quiet? All he knew of her was from his childhood memories, obviously not objective due to his adoration and love. It would have been interesting to hear someone else’s perspective on the personality he could only remember in flashes.
Urahara glanced at him with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry Kurosaki-kun,” he whispered, as though to speak any louder would break the fragile peace that was around them. “I’m not much help, I know.”
“Shut up,” Ichigo smiled, pushing the blonde’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
Looking up towards the top of the hill, his smile faltered a little when he realized that his mother’s grave was now plainly in sight. His eyebrow began twitching as he pondered the fact that he hadn’t really planned what he was going to do once he got up there with Kisuke. It wasn’t as though he’d written some big speech or anything…what was he supposed to say?
‘Hello mom! I’ve brought a visitor this year! Meet Kisuke, my three hundred year old, super-genius, shinigami boyfriend whom I‘m pretty damn sure I‘m in love with but haven‘t told him yet because I’m a big freakin‘ coward. Oh! And did I mention I’m bisexual?’
Oh yeah…that was really going to go over well wasn’t it?
“Um…Ichigo?” Urahara tapped him on the shoulder. “We just walked by Masaki-san’s grave…”
“Shit,” Ichigo turned on his heel and stalked back over to the grave, pausing before his face fell a bit. The grave was exactly as he remembered it, plain and unadorned, pristine…just like he remembered his mother to be. He brushed a few dead leaves from the top of the stone and sighed. What to do now? Kisuke was looking at him in an expectant sort of way, as though Ichigo was going to lead this little introduction of sorts.
When he couldn’t come up with something he heard Urahara chuckle softly beside him and looked over. The older man was bending at the waist, his eyes closed and a small green charm in his hands that he placed on the headstone with care. “Thank you for your son, Kurosaki Masaki,” he murmured, still bent over. His voice was octaves lower than normal, bearing the tone it only took on when he was being very serious. The timbre sent a shiver working its way up Ichigo’s spine, making his breath catch almost painfully in his throat. “I will do my best to make him as happy for the rest of his life as you did at the beginning.”
With that Kisuke stood to his full height, turning towards him with a small smile before brushing pale fingers across Ichigo‘s cheekbone. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit. Call me if you want company, okay?”
Ichigo watched Kisuke walk away with a strange trembling feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It was the same feeling that had been there for months, growing each time the blonde would do something that caused Ichigo to instinctively react. It was an emotion that Ichigo was unfamiliar with, a sensation that was at once intensely painful while being pleasurably addictive at the same time. It had only been in the last few weeks that he’d started to fully understand what it was, his mind wrapping around the idea that the man he’d chosen to date was quite possibly…
“Mom,” he said suddenly, turning towards her grave and clenching his fists at his sides. This was why he hated dealing with his emotions…hated letting them control him in any way. They were so confusing! No matter what you did, they never seemed to coalesce! “What would you tell me if you were here?”
Again he glanced over at Kisuke who was currently quite a distance away, smoking idly on his kiseru while looking curiously at a few random headstones. The older man seemed to feel that he was being watched and looked up, meeting Ichigo’s gaze for a moment with a questioning expression before turning his attention back down to whatever he’d found so interesting. Ichigo swallowed heavily, running a hand through his hair, sitting down in front of his mother’s grave with his legs crossed.
“I think,” he said softly, staring down at his own lap. “I think I’m…”
“I don’t know mom!” he exclaimed, a bit louder than he’d intended, casting his glance around to make sure no one had seen his ridiculous outburst. He lowered his voice, noticing that it was quivering a bit, fighting against the swell of his emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. “I’ve never been in love before! How am I supposed to know that’s what this is?”
He pulled his knees up to his chest and set his face down on them, wrapping his arms around his legs. He would not cry. No way. That was about the most girly, pathetic, wretched thing he could do right now. No matter how badly he might want to do it, he was not going to give in to the urge. Nope.
“I wish you were here to help me out,” he whispered, letting all his breath go in one great rush. “Goat-face isn’t exactly the sort of person to confide in about my relationship, you know?”
Suddenly remembering something he’d brought with him, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled photograph, unbending the corner before looking down at it nostalgically. It had been winter, the Shoten was nestled in a soft blanket of white, and Kisuke had been supervising Ururu as she used the snow blower to clear off the back porch. Ichigo had come out a few minutes after that, reaching around Kisuke’s chest to hand him a quickly cooling cup of earl gray before nestling his face between the older man’s shoulder blades, arms wrapped contentedly around Urahara‘s waist. He had thought they were alone for the moment, that being the sole reason he’d given in to the affectionate urges, only to find out later that Rukia had taken a picture precisely at that instant. And of course Rukia, being the strange pervert she is, had shown it to…well…just about everybody.
Though he’d been completely humiliated at the time…he had to admit…the picture was good. And the emotion it called forth in his chest was all too real. Affection…desire…fidelity…a caring that went far beyond the way he felt about others. Love? The corners of Ichigo’s mouth pulled upwards as he ran his fingertips along the glossy surface, leaning forward to put the picture on his mother’s stone. Love.
“I’m in love with him,” he said, his voice steadier now, more sure. “And for the life of me I have no idea how to say it.”
Ichigo sat quietly for a while, mulling things over in his head, barely noticing the passage of time until the shadows around him began to grow and he found the air blowing more coolly across his face. Evening already? Head shooting up, he glanced around nervously, not finding Kisuke anywhere in the general vicinity. Had the older man gotten bored and wandered off somewhere? It wasn’t unlike the blonde to get preoccupied and forget what he’d been doing.
“Kisuke?” he called, standing up and turning around in a circle. Urahara was nowhere to be found. “Kisuke?!”
Moving to go back down the hill, he paused mid-step and placed two fingers to his lips, turning to press them against his mother’s grave before walking away. If Urahara knew what was good for him, he’d better not have driven away and left Ichigo to walk the entire way home. Practical jokes were something that his significant other liked to pull, even if most of the time they were really only amusing to him. Dammit…where was he?!
“Urahara!” his voice was growing steadily louder, and infinitely more annoyed, the longer he went without finding Kisuke. “Where the hell did you go?”
A very loud, very familiar, yawn sounded from above him, causing him to look upwards to the source of the noise. There he found Kisuke, eyes glazed over with the remnants of sleep, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at him. Blonde strands were sticking up all over the place, even more unruly than usual, falling over gray irises in a way that Ichigo was tempted to describe as…cute. When those same cloudy eyes blinked blearily at him and he grinned, Ichigo was sure. Definitely cute.
“What are you doing up there?” Ichigo questioned with a short laugh. “I was starting to think you’d left me behind.”
“Never Kurosaki-kun,” Kisuke yawned again, jumping down from the branch he was currently residing on to come up close to Ichigo and rub their cheeks together slowly. “Did you have a nice visit?”
Ichigo hesitated briefly, looking up at the blonde. “Yeah…I guess,” he answered finally, rising up to kiss at Urahara’s lips chastely. When he pulled away there must have been something in his eyes however, because the older man’s face fell rather abruptly, the grogginess washed away by concern.
“Are you sure?” Kisuke cocked his head to the side. “Did something happen?”
Ichigo sat still, warring with himself over what to say. Sitting with his mother may have helped a little, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Kisuke the truth. Hopefully, with an important moment like that, it would eventually just smack him over the head like a frying pan…right? Things like that could only happen when they were meant to happen; Ichigo knew at least that much. He’d probably just have to be patient and wait.
Not one of his better traits…but eh…
“Nah,” he smiled, reaching his arms up around Kisuke’s neck and drawing their lips together. Though the older man was hesitant at first (he was probably still really confused) he eventually melted into the kiss, drawing Ichigo closer with a satisfied sigh. They drew apart slowly; Ichigo raining tiny kisses across Kisuke’s jaw before laying his forehead on the blonde’s shoulder. “I’m all right. I’m hungry though…”
“Oh good!” Kisuke laughed, putting his arm around Ichigo’s shoulder to guide him back towards the car. “I was starting to waste away to nothing up in that tree…look at me…I‘m practically skin and bones! I‘m far too handsome to be so thin.”
Rolling his eyes, Ichigo pushed the blonde’s arm off and punched him smartly in the shoulder, grinning when the older man put on a tremendous show of being hurt. Without speaking he took Kisuke’s hand and smiled, finding it much easier to just enjoy his partner’s company than to worry about how to say things that (for now) were best left unsaid.
“You’re far too handsome to be so full of yourself too. Learn some humility!”
“I’ll do my best Kurosaki-san…perhaps I’ll take lessons from you, patron saint of modesty that you are.”
“I can make you walk home Kisuke…”
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Honey Wheat
Soft evening light was trickling in through the window, catching the sides of a clear water glass that sat on the counter and littering the kitchen walls with tiny, rippling shards of color. Kisuke quietly closed the refrigerator door and picked the cup up, bringing the ice water to his lips while his bare feet padded across the cool tile floors. The house was empty today, the sounds of the children’s arguing absent from the hallways and Tessai’s strange mumblings not present in the shop. It had been a perfect day to spend alone with Ichigo…
Speaking of said young man, Urahara smiled as he looked out the back door to see him lounging on his side in the grass, rubbing at his nose absentmindedly. Ichigo’s eyes were closed, head lying on his upper arm as a steady line of sweat ran down his temple and across his cheek. He looked hot, and Kisuke didn’t mean that in the attractive way (though that was obviously true). Even his t-shirt was sweaty, clinging to his muscles in a way that couldn’t be comfortable.
Summer was taking its last gasps in the early days of September, but that didn’t mean that the heat didn’t wrap around him like a wet blanket as Kisuke made his way out onto the porch. Almost instantly he began to feel himself sweat, opening up his fan and waving it in front of his face a few times to alleviate the burst of warmth against his skin. Though he’d originally started using it to cover up his facial expressions (thereby making himself seem more mysterious) there was something to be said for always having a cooling agent on hand. Not to mention it was cute. Yep…it was hard to resist a handsome, perverted shopkeeper with a fan and a long sword.
Urahara crossed his legs in the grass with a peaceful sigh, moving the fan it in front of Ichigo’s face to watch the orange locks blow backwards as the corners of his mouth perked upwards. Kisuke’s own smile became mischievous when a hand was placed on his thigh, long fingers kneading the fabric and the muscle underneath in a way that wasn‘t all together innocent. If he hadn’t been so relaxed he might have made some sort of perverted comment or “accidentally” inclined his hips so that Ichigo’s hand brushed against his crotch.
As it stood however, he was too drugged with heat and tranquility to really push the issue.
“Mmm,” Ichigo practically purred, scooting a little closer to Kisuke so that his nose brushed the older man’s pants. His voice was drowsy and soft, somewhat like the delicate light of the sunset that danced across his skin, making it glow like honey wheat laying low in the fields. “Nice day.”
“I agree,” Kisuke concurred, continuing to fan Ichigo’s face while running his free hand through the slightly damp orange tresses. The redhead’s response was encouraging, pushing his head further into Urahara’s hand, trying to get more of the gentle caress. For someone who was usually such a prude, Ichigo was surprisingly insatiable when it came to affection. He enjoyed it…despite how he might say otherwise. And, of course, Kisuke would never tire of giving it to him…despite how much he might tease.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go inside in the air-conditioning?” Kisuke questioned, noticing that the younger man really was rather soaked with sweat. Ichigo merely shook his head, eyebrows coming together when Urahara’s hand slowed in his hair. So greedy! Kisuke couldn’t help but cease the motion all together, earning a very disgruntled sound as the brown eyes cracked slowly open.
“Why’d you stop?” Ichigo scowled, crawling up and putting his chin on Urahara’s thigh, turning his irritated gaze up to Kisuke’s face. For a moment Urahara wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but the longer he looked down at the bottom lip jutting out in annoyance, the absolute pouty face…the more his mind turned decidedly lewd. Glancing to the glittering cup of ice water sitting near his leg, he focused his attention back on the young man practically in his lap.
“Because I just had a thought Ichigo,” he replied, dipping his finger into said water and smearing a wet line across Ichigo‘s eyebrows. “You look so uncomfortably hot down there…I thought perhaps you might want to take off your shirt.”
Quickly Ichigo’s hand came up and smacked Kisuke hard upside the arm, his own hand coming up to rub at the stinging area before looking down at the redhead in an affronted way. Was it something he said? “Ow! What was that for!? I’m thinking of your well-being Kurosaki-kun!”
“No,” Ichigo countered, voice amused, face breaking out in a tiny grin. His eyes were already closing again, slowly twisting his body to lay his cheek once more against the grass with a sigh of pleasure. He was the picture of contentment, which was unusual considering how angst-ridden the young man could be. “You’re thinking about devious ways to get me out of my clothes. It won’t work you know.”
Couldn’t argue there…
“Now I admit, usually you’d be right,” Kisuke laughed, poking Ichigo’s cheek and watching the orange eyebrows come together. “But really…I’ve seen you half naked before. Hell in your bankai outfit most of your belly and chest shows anyway…”
When the younger man didn’t seem to be responding Kisuke’s bottom lip came out, leaning down to run his nose along the teenager’s neck to get his attention. He smiled softly when small goose bumps broke out on the smooth skin, a shiver running down Ichigo’s body. “Please Ichigo? I promise that will be the entirety of what you take off this evening…please with sugar?”
Ichigo sighed, pushing himself up abruptly to fix Kisuke with a stare, his expression shifting through emotions as though he were weighing his options before making a decision. Wise boy. Then, with a defeated roll of his eyes, he pulled his shirt up over his head, exposing line upon line of beautiful abdominal muscles to Urahara’s ravenous gaze. No matter how many bad decisions he may have made in life, Kisuke was certain that the gods must have loved him to adorn him with the affections of such a glorious youth. Truly he was a blessed man.
“There,” Ichigo said sleepily, tossing the sweat-soaked shirt into Kisuke‘s face before plopping himself back down on the ground. “Happy now?”
“Extremely,” Kisuke breathed, swallowing thickly, letting the shirt fall from his suddenly nerveless fingers. If the sight of Ichigo’s chest had been welcome, the view of his back was…overwhelming. From the curves of his shoulder blades to the plane of his spine, each muscle was a masterpiece, perfectly proportioned. Urahara had to look away briefly, his fingers tingling with the need to reach out and touch at the flawless skin, closing his eyes to get a hold on himself before he did something foolish. What had he been thinking, asking Ichigo to take off his clothes like that?!
When he opened his eyes they once again landed on the glass near his leg, the ice cubes floating in endless circles around the water. Cocking his head to the side, Kisuke felt the corner of his lips quirk upward, tongue coming out to brush at his top lip. Instinctively his hand reached out, pulling out a partially melted cube and running it between his fingers, watching the water drip to the ground. Ichigo was probably going to kill him…but he really was having a hard time convincing himself not to do it.
“Hey!” Ichigo practically shouted as the first drop hit his skin, squirming and glaring daggers at Urahara over his shoulder. “Knock it off!”
Before Ichigo could protest further Kisuke was on him, legs spread to either side of Ichigo’s hips, sitting firmly on the younger man’s butt. Laughing darkly, Urahara leaned forward, putting all his weight on the pliant body beneath him and moving his mouth down beside Ichigo’s ear. “Relax,” he whispered, letting his tongue come out to graze the ear near his lips, nipping playfully at it and enjoying the delicious fidget the younger man bestowed in return. “I’m going to cool you off…”
“Stop, you pervert…” Ichigo complained less forcefully, voice slightly breathy, his hips bucking up to attempt to knock Urahara off his body. The push only succeeded in brushing them together however, making Kisuke’s eyes slam shut harshly against the rush of friction. Breathing suddenly became harder to do as he realized that keeping control of himself was going to be more difficult than he’d originally imagined. He hadn’t counted on Ichigo’s response being so arousing.
Deciding to go forward with his plan anyway, he sat back up to his full height and squeezed his thighs together to keep Ichigo still, pushing the ice cube firmly against the top of the redhead’s backbone. Instantly Ichigo began cursing, his body rocking as his arms tried in vain to reach backwards and grab at Urahara’s hands. Not deterred, Kisuke ran the melting ice further down the tanned spine, grinning when Ichigo’s jerks began to lessen and soft pants made his back rise and fall more quickly. Was he giving up? Or was it just starting to feel good?
“That’s cold Kisuke,” Ichigo almost whined, wiggling his hips back and forth beneath Kisuke’s crotch. The act sent another shockwave up the older man’s spine, a heat settling in his gut that had nothing to do with the weather. His eyelids were heavy now as he leaned downward again, unable to stop his teeth from sinking into the back of Ichigo’s neck. He practically growled when the teenager gasped and shuddered below him, a sense of possessiveness washing over him, exhilarating in its intensity. The redhead’s skin always had the same flavour, only this time it was tainted with sweat and a little bit of dirt. Almost a filthy taste…one that Urahara found strangely erotic.
“Stop wiggling like that Ichigo,” his voice was low, grinding the words out between the teeth that still held the younger man’s flesh between them. “Or this won’t stay playful for much longer.”
Pulling slowly away from Ichigo’s neck, he watched curiously as brown eyes glanced over a bare shoulder, giving Kisuke a look that could only be described as purely evil. What was he up to? Seconds passed as they continued to stare, henna into rainy gray, until with a smirk the younger man began rolling his hips in a gentle, sensual rhythm, his breath catching quietly. Perfect white teeth came out soon afterwards; catching that bottom lip so enthralled Kisuke in an obviously teasing way. Devious scamp. The pure eroticism of the gyration made Kisuke involuntarily cry out, pushing one hand on Ichigo’s back to steady himself while wondering vaguely when the younger man had grown so bold. What kind of beast had he awakened in that prim and proper mind?
The pace was slow at first, leisurely and unhurried, but soon it was picking up speed, Urahara pressing his forehead against the redhead’s back with a soft, almost painful sound. If he wasn’t careful, this would get out of control quickly. It had been so long since he’d been with a lover…so long in fact that even this slight contact was easily enough to make his cock harden instantly and press sharply into the body below. He wasn’t so stupid as to think that Ichigo couldn’t feel it, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the younger man was using it to his advantage.
“Kurosaki-kun,” he groaned, letting his tongue come out to lap at the young man’s skin, licking at the water he’d placed there a few moments before. It was tepid already, heated by the setting sun overhead and the warmth of Ichigo’s skin. Luscious. Inspired by the soft moan he heard from underneath, he moved his mouth further down, closer to Ichigo’s waistband, teasing the flesh he found there with subtle nibbles. He remained there momentarily, abusing the skin friskily, until he felt Ichigo arch his body into the touch, gasping out his name in a tone that went straight to Kisuke‘s cock. Only then did Urahara flatten his tongue against the small of his back, working with deliberate slowness up the redhead’s spine, halting every few centimeters to nip and suck at random patches of skin.
Ichigo was writhing now; Urahara could see where his knuckles were going white against the grass he gripped tightly between his fingers. The reaction made Kisuke a little proud, taking satisfaction in his ability to make his lovers scream without ever even touching the more intimate areas of their bodies. His gaze wandered back to Ichigo‘s face, drinking in the sight of the faint blush staining the tanned skin, the teenager’s cheek firmly pressed against the ground, eyes closed, mouth partially open as puffs of air rushed out in gasps. The scene was so sexy it caused Kisuke to hesitate in his actions, mouth pressed in an open kiss against Ichigo’s back as he stared captivated into the lustful copper gaze now fixed solely on him. If he’d ever witnessed anything so beautiful…he couldn’t remember it now.
Unable to stop, he twisted himself to the side until his lips came into semi-contact with Ichigo’s, gasping when the redhead’s still-rolling hips sent another wave of pleasure through his nerves. The kiss was sloppy and wet, their mouths barely able to meet with the younger man still on his stomach, but Urahara made it work despite the awkward angle. He could feel a faint line of saliva trail down the redhead’s cheek, the exchange more a dance of tongues meshing passionately than mouths pressing together. It had to be, quite possibly, the dirtiest kiss of his entire life…and it was sublime.
“I want,” Ichigo gasped, his tongue coming out to lick against Kisuke’s wantonly. “I want to kiss you…please Kisuke…”
Urahara’s response to the plea was immediate, turning Ichigo over roughly and pushing their lips together hard enough that teeth clacked together a little. The long legs beneath him opened wider to allow him to rest in between, the younger man’s hands dancing up his back, snaking down his arms, teasing inside his shirt, and eventually finding purchase on his ass to pull their groins together. Ichigo, to Urahara’s delight, was just as hard as he was, ready and seemingly very willing to go. Time seemed to slow as they locked eyes until hesitantly Ichigo began rolling his hips again, fingers digging into Kisuke’s upper thighs almost painfully.
The world was spinning slower now, each passing second encompassing what felt like a hundred lifetimes within the short span of time. Urahara could feel everything…Ichigo’s lips silken against his own, their bodies pushing somewhat frantically against each other, the sound of cloth scraping, Ichigo moaning into his mouth, the feel of the redhead‘s hair caught tight in his fingers…dirty, sensual, sullied, exquisite…everything he could ever want.
“Ichigo,” Kisuke whimpered softly, breaking the kiss and pressing his face into the redhead’s neck, biting at the skin there until it began to turn a light purplish color. As the skin threatened to break under his teeth Ichigo’s whole body bucked upwards, a throaty cry spilling from his lips.
It was then, upon hearing that impassioned cry, that Urahara realized two things. One, they were still outside where anyone could interrupt them (not good)…and two, that this wasn’t how he wanted their first time together to be. Granted, his body was screaming otherwise, his cock throbbing agonizingly and his blood rushing so fast that he was having trouble thinking clearly…but he couldn’t do this. Not here in the grass like two beasts rutting in the dirt. Ichigo deserved better…
His hands shot out to catch the younger man’s hips, stopping them from moving as he pulled his mouth away from Ichigo’s neck with a liquid pop. His self-control wavered for the briefest of moments as he heard the disappointed moan from below, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t be tempted to give into the crestfallen expression that he knew would be there. Ichigo would thank him for this later when things were more perfect…when the younger man wouldn’t look back on his first time with the regret that it hadn’t been right.
“Why not?” Ichigo whispered, his fingers still clinging to Urahara’s thighs, though with much less force. Kisuke didn’t respond right away, still too busy with bringing his breathing back under control and calming his body down enough so that he could think clearly. Eventually he felt Ichigo lean upward, a small lick to his cheek indicating that the redhead wanted his undivided attention. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Kisuke turned his face to the question, surprised when he saw how concerned Ichigo was underneath all that pent up sexual frustration. There was depth in that brown gaze that stunned him, made him breathless all over again. Ichigo’s own breathing was still choppy and uneven, body shaking violently against Urahara’s own, his skin still a bit flushed. Worry over the younger man’s condition prompted him to wrap his arms back around the smaller body and roll them both onto their sides. Nothing was worse, in Urahara’s opinion, than getting all worked up and then having the entire thing deflate on you. Can you say ’blue balls’? Ichigo didn’t protest, allowing him to rain kisses in the orange hair in an effort to calm the younger man’s obviously fraying nerves.
“I’m fine,” Urahara soothed, rubbing his hands in comforting circles around Ichigo’s back. Regretfully he kissed the swollen lips so close to his own, willing the teen to understand the intentions behind his refusal. “But I can’t do this right now.”
Ichigo looked up at him curiously, a pale orange eyebrow rising as the younger man settled more firmly in his embrace. Finally a small smile pulled as his lips and he poked Urahara lightly in the stomach with a small snicker. “Are you like…having erectile dysfunction or something? I mean…I know you’re old and all…”
Kisuke’s mouth fell open at that, trying to decide if Ichigo was being serious or not. “I-Ichigo!” he stammered, closing his mouth only to have it fall open again. He must have looked rather ridiculous because the teenager began laughing in earnest, the sound soft and happy. At least he wasn’t angry about stopping in the middle of their little frottage session. “I do not need Viagra! What, you couldn’t feel it pressing into that tight little rump of yours?”
For emphasis he gave Ichigo’s butt a small squeeze, delighting in the gasp he got in return. “Little smartass,” Kisuke purred, kissing Ichigo’s cheek. “But no…I just don’t want you to lose your virginity like an dog in the backyard. Unless that’s all right with you?”
Ichigo’s face fell for a moment, as if he were finally realizing where exactly he was and what he’d been doing. When he finally grasped the situation his eyes went wide as cup saucers, his body becoming tight in Kisuke’s arms. “Um…no…not really…I just…” he began, a faint blush breaking out on his cheeks as his words faded away. The rest needed no explanation. Urahara was more than aware that the younger man had been practically consumed by the deluge of hormones assaulting his senses. It wasn’t as though he’d never been young once…and hormones were something that not even his substantial intellect had been able to overcome.
“I know Ichigo, you don’t have to clarify,” he smiled, scooting his hips a few inches away from the ones beside him so that their more intimate areas weren’t brushing against each other anymore. The younger man sighed softly, face relaxing as the storm between them calmed down, leaving him looking exhausted. “I can completely empathize…”
“You could have, you know…done it…and I wouldn’t have stopped you,” Ichigo murmured, suddenly looking very serious.
“You act like I don’t know this…you can‘t resist my charms Kurosaki-kun!” Urahara laughed, watching Ichigo’s expression go from very seriously grave to very seriously annoyed all in the matter of three seconds. The reaction made the laughter bubble further up in Kisuke’s chest, drawing Ichigo close again despite his initial protests. There was nothing he liked more than getting a rise out of the redhead…it was one of life’s greatest pleasures to be sure.
“You act like you don’t know that I’ll kick your balls up into your sternum,” Ichigo threatened in what Urahara thought had to be his best scary voice, even though it was muffled by the fact that his face was pressed into Kisuke‘s chest. All it needed was that weird underwater effect that wearing his hollow mask gave it and everything would have been perfect.
“Don’t damage equipment that you’ll eventually grow to love,” Kisuke raised an eyebrow, his laughter dying down though his smile wasn’t. “You should be thanking me for my self-restraint, not threatening my manhood.”
“I can’t start thanking you until the shock wears off…seeing as how this has to be the first time you’ve shown any self-restraint around me at all,” Ichigo said sarcastically, looking as though he were fighting laughter of his own.
“That wounded me Ichigo…I’m really hurt…”
“Not as much as me…I’ve never had blue balls before but this shit hurts like hell!”
And the ice cubes that originally started the whole ordeal slowly melted away, the cup laying forgotten in the grass as the two men gathered themselves back up and went inside to cool off. It was only when it got ran over by the lawnmower a few days later that Urahara even remembered it was there…and that was only because Tessai looked as though he were going to murder someone with glass shards sticking out of his apron like little knives.
Maybe next time he’d use that Captain Planet sippy cup instead…
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Thanks guys! Loves!
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Cherry!
Author: Conjure Lass!
Title: Overlooked: A Collection
Rating: Pg-13 overall
Pairing: Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo
Warnings: None, just rampant fluff. Wee!
Summary: Our relationships are made of tiny moments strung together to form the bigger picture. These two are no different.
This is where you'll find all the chapters of the Overlooked collection (from first to fifth so far)! You can also find this on my fanfiction.net account if you feel so inclined under the name Easily Overlooked.
Overlooked
Ichigo had been staring at the same trigonometry problem for the past twenty minutes with little to no success. He’d write something down, scratch it out, erase a little bit, write some more, and then continue staring…he wasn’t getting anywhere! He knew he had to play catch up with the rest of his class, but it wasn’t proving to be the easiest thing in the entire world to do. The problem seemed to get longer the more he stared at it, increasing in difficulty the more times he tried to solve it.
Was he just stupid or something? Was being a shinigami making him dumber?
“What’s wrong Ichigo?” he heard from the doorway, turning to see Kisuke come in through the sliding screen carrying a tray of hot tea and some kind of random cookie looking thing. It had to be foreign, Kisuke loved those sorts of things.
Huffing softly, he blew a lock of his hair out of his eyes and felt his bottom lip come out. Was he pouting? “Nothing,” he answered sulkily, scratching angrily at the spot on his paper where he’d attempted the problem at least six times. “I’m just an idiot apparently.”
Urahara made a noise beside him, somewhere between a sniff and a clucking of the tongue. “You are no such thing,” he admonished, setting down the tray without moving its contents and sliding up behind Ichigo until their bodies were pressed together and a long line of heat had begun to form. Legs clad in green spread to either side of his thighs as he was pulled in closer, Kisuke’s chin resting on his shoulder so that he could read the paper in front of them while wrapping his arms around Ichigo‘s waist.
“Well,” Urahara murmured into Ichigo’s ear. “You need a new piece of paper. You’re frustrating yourself.”
Complying wordlessly, Ichigo pulled a fresh piece of paper from his small stack and recopied the problem from the original ruined one. “And now?” he said petulantly, resting comfortably against the chest at his back but still feeling too stubborn to calm down. “Is the problem magically going to do itself or am I suddenly going to get smarter?”
“Ichigo,” Urahara’s voice went an octave lower, his serious tone. Ichigo bit at his lip slightly at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, knowing he’d struck a nerve he hadn’t meant to. The gray eyes were glancing at him from the corner, a pale eyebrow raised menacingly.
When Ichigo was quiet again Urahara looked down at the open book that the problem had come from, then back at the paper, than back at the open book. His demeanor changed suddenly, pushing his face into Ichigo’s shoulder as his body shook with soundless laughter.
Not understanding what was going on, Ichigo pushed his head against Urahara’s , eyes narrowing in annoyance. “What? What’s so funny? I swear, if you’re laughing at me-!”
“No, no Ichigo,” Urahara murmured, moving to kiss the soft patch of skin behind Ichigo’s ear, making him shiver. “I think I know what the dilemma is.”
“What?” Ichigo asked, turning his head to place a chaste kiss on Kisuke’s lips. “Are you going to do my homework for me?”
“No,” Kisuke responded, narrowing his eyes and pushing his finger onto the tip of Ichigo’s nose. “But it might be a good idea to actually copy the problem down correctly from the book…you tend to get further when the numbers are accurate.”
Blinking a few times, Ichigo turned his attention to the problem at hand, eyes widening when he discovered that-yes-he had indeed copied the problem down wrong a half hour ago! Mouth falling open slightly, he turned to see Kisuke moving back over to the teapot and pouring some steaming liquid into two delicate china cups.
“Oftentimes Ichigo,” Kisuke said with a wink, pushing one cup to him “the solution is the thing we most easily overlook.”
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Nostalgia
Urahara Kisuke preferred the quiet. Blissful serenity made it easier to think, easier to work, easier to observe, easier to calm down, and was (in his opinion) just all-around better than the constant cacophony that the modern world seemed to provide.
But not today.
Today as he lay on his futon with his blond hair falling over his face, he felt as though the noiselessness was stifling, bearing down upon him until his breath seemed shallow and insubstantial. Though he was loathe to admit it, he absolutely hated this day…the day his life was irrevocably changed, the day he lost everything. Exile. Banishment. Ostracism. No label he could come up with seemed to make it any better, no words powerful enough to describe the absolute terror of being forcefully wrenched away from your birthplace.
He should have been over it by now, and for the most part he was. There was a freedom here in the living world that he hadn’t been able to find in Soul Society. But that didn’t mean that being unable to return home was any less painful. Most years he allowed the day to go by unnoticed, submerging himself in work so that he wouldn’t dwell upon it or give it any sort of hold on his emotions. If you were to ask him about it he would blow the question off, downplaying the event, acting as though he didn’t care at all. But…sometimes…like now? Right now he was desperately homesick. He wanted to go home!
Badly.
He had just pulled the covers up over his head, burying his nose in his pillow, when he heard the door to his bedroom slide open. Who the hell was disturbing him? Hadn’t he said an hour ago that he was going to bed and that he didn’t want to be bothered until tomorrow morning? Was it so much to ask to simply be left alone to indulge in the emotions that he so rarely allowed himself to fully feel? Was that so selfish?
Kisuke could hear socks trailing along the floor tentatively, as though unsure of their welcome, towards him. They paused when they reached the futon, shifting back and forth nervously before the figure knelt down. A solid minute passed by torturously as Urahara lay motionless, refusing to pull the covers from his head to look at his uninvited guest. Let them just stay out there…he didn’t care! They could sit there all damn day and stare at his sleeping form and he wouldn’t be even slightly concerned. It would serve them right for being so insensitive.
“Kisuke?” came the soft voice, laced with concern and unspoken emotion.
Urahara’s breath left him slowly, pulling down the covers so that only his the top of his head and his eyes were showing above the sheets to peer at his visitor. Ichigo. The brown eyes that so often held anger or stubborn resolution were now overshadowed with worry, the redhead’s jaw set in a tense line. His hand was partially extended towards the bed, as though he had been in the process of reaching out to touch Kisuke when he was interrupted. Even his hair was a little more messy than normal. The younger man seemed completely distressed.
Their eyes met and Kisuke sighed audibly, blinking bleary eyes before closing them again and snuggling more securely in his sheets. He could hear Ichigo above him give a small grunt of disapproval, the hand extending fully to touch his blonde hair, attempting to give comfort. It made something in Kisuke’s chest loosen just a little to feel those fingers moving so easily through his hair, trailing lower onto his cheek, caressing his cheekbone gently. He’d never had anyone really console him about his banishment before. No one. Not in a hundred years.
Not even Yoruichi had been able to coax a genuine response from Urahara in regards to the matter…and she had tried very very hard. What was the point really? What could she (or anyone) say to make him feel better about it?
“Do you still miss it?” Ichigo whispered, finally scooting the rest of the way down and grabbing the edge of the blanket to lift it up. Kisuke shifted to the side to allow the redhead to enter his futon, opening his eyes again to let their gazes meet. Ichigo was regarding him with scrutiny, observing his motions and reactions carefully. It wasn’t something that the younger man had done too often when Urahara had first met him. Oh, how things had changed.
When Kisuke nodded, almost wincing in shame, Ichigo’s arms came around him. The act was so sudden, so unexpected, that it made Urahara start, blinking dumbly as though it were the first time he‘d ever been held by another living being. His breaths were coming faster now, not able to stop his hands from coming up to clutch at the younger mans’s shirt, moving his head from the pillow to bury it in the crook of Ichigo’s neck.
They’d never had this kind of reversal of roles, slipping out of their normal part to wear the mask of the other. Usually it was Kisuke comforting Ichigo, always being the supporting rock that the redhead leaned upon. Now, things had taken an abrupt about-face and Urahara was left wondering when he’d become so juvenile and when Ichigo had become so strong.
“It’s okay you know,” Ichigo murmured, nuzzling at Urahara’s hair with his nose. “It‘s normal to be sad about it. I wish you’d told me. I would have stayed over last night.”
Kisuke didn’t respond verbally, instead wrapping his arms securely around the slim body next to him and kissing Ichigo’s neck. The world was narrowing now, emotions that he kept firmly in check bubbling to the surface. Each moment was a struggle to keep himself at least partially in control, to not allow his outside demeanor to totally crash and burn. But there was so much comfort there in Ichigo‘s voice, such tenderness in his actions, that it was enough to warm up the small, icy place in Urahara’s chest where he kept all the pain and disappointment of his previous life.
Previous life. The life before Ichigo. Before any of this. Had it been emptier?
“You’re home now, right?” Ichigo’s voice was barely a wisp as he clutched Kisuke closer to him, his hands running down the blonde’s spine. “Right?”
“Yes Ichigo,” Urahara finally found his voice, though it was small and almost quivering. His weakness was oozing from him in embarrassing waves…but he didn’t care. Not with Ichigo. Not right now. “I am.”
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXO
Evergreen
Ichigo’s birthday had been the week before. The occasion had been spent as it usually was with his family and closest friends at the Kurosaki clinic, which had been redecorated (in pastels, much to Ichigo’s horror) by a very enthusiastic Orihime. Isshin had wanted to have the party at the zoo, but that idea had been effectively nixed after it was discovered that the last time he had gone the monkeys had mysteriously gotten out of their cages and run rampant. Isshin denied the claim.
Urahara hadn’t been invited, but then he really hadn’t expected to be. While Isshin and Karin were aware of his and Ichigo’s relationship, dear Yuzu was not, nor were his friends. Kisuke, while on the inside being a little disappointed, had nevertheless thought it better not to make his presence known let awkward questions be asked. Ichigo had protested of course, saying that Urahara was just as important to him as family and should be there…but Kisuke hadn’t given in. The last thing he wanted was for Ichigo to feel uncomfortable on his birthday, which Urahara’s appearance was bound to do.
Ichigo had walked away slowly after that argument, his reiatsu pulsing with some strange mix of emotions that Urahara couldn’t place. He only knew that the younger man was desperately upset. Only that there were things Ichigo had left unsaid.
And so it was a week later and Ichigo hadn’t come to visit him even once. Urahara had a feeling he knew what the problem was, but since the redhead wouldn’t return his calls he couldn’t confirm or deny his suspicions. Eventually (after the fifteenth or so call) he’d given up and decided to wait Ichigo out, knowing that the younger man was stubborn and would only come around after he’d thought things through.
Now he found himself sitting on his back porch, staring out at the lot of small trees with a cooling cup of tea that he couldn’t seem to bring himself to drink and an incredibly heavy heart. Maybe he should have just given in to Ichigo’s request, maybe then he wouldn’t be so lonely…maybe Ichigo wouldn’t be so angry at him. Maybe Ichigo wasn’t angry at all. Maybe it was something else entirely. Kisuke wasn’t sure. As much of a genius as he may have been, he was woefully inexperienced in the ways of love and relationships. Why didn’t intelligence and common sense ever apply to these situations?!
Sighing softly, he looked down at the contents of his cup as though they held the answers to all his questions. Nothing was making sense right now…
“Why are you sitting out here all alone Kisuke?” the soft voice came from behind him, making Urahara drop his cup in surprise. The china shattered on the rocks below, tea splashing up onto Urahara‘s bare feet before the quiet rushed back in to meet them. Kisuke had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even felt Ichigo come into the shop, nor had he heard it when he walked out onto the porch.
He didn’t turn to look at the younger man, not wanting to see anger in those brown eyes directed at him. “I didn’t feel like working,” he murmured, his voice sadder than he had meant it to be. Ichigo had the innate ability to strip away his ability to hide his emotions without even having to try. “I couldn’t concentrate anyway…”
The silence settled back in around them, a stifling thing rather than a comfort. The sensation was so foreign in Ichigo’s company that it caused him to close his eyes against a sudden swell of sadness, biting gently at his bottom lip. There was no sound for a few moments, the atmosphere becoming so still that Urahara thought Ichigo had left. It would serve him right, he supposed.
So it was no small surprise when he felt the younger man’s arms wrap around him from behind, Ichigo’s body pressing a warm line against his spine, burying his face in the back of Kisuke’s neck. Instantly Urahara responded, linking his fingers with the ones clutching at his shirt and leaning back into the warmth. He could feel Ichigo’s heart pounding fast against him and felt his own pulse speed up in reply.
“Are you ashamed of me?” came the nearly inaudible question, muffled by Kisuke’s hair.
Kisuke’s heart nearly stopped, his eyebrows coming together as his misgivings were all confirmed for him. Yes…that’s what he’d thought was wrong. Instead of taking Urahara’s refusal to attend his birthday celebration as a way to avoid unnecessary stress, Ichigo had taken it as a sign that he was embarrassed about their relationship…not wanting others to know out of shame.
Instantly Urahara turned in Ichigo’s arms, pushing their foreheads together and meeting that burning ochre stare with something less than complete confidence. There was no anger there like he had imagined, only layer upon layer of dejection and confusion. His hands came up slowly, cradling Ichigo’s cheeks in his palms and running the pads of his thumbs over the delicate skin. If he had known Ichigo was this distressed he would have broken into his room days ago to remedy the situation. The thought that his young lover had been feeling this way for an entire week made something in his chest squeeze almost painfully tight.
“No, Ichigo,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “Never.”
“Then why don’t you want anyone to know about us?” Ichigo questioned further, his eyes opening wider as though to hold in tears. “Why are we keeping it a secret?”
It was in this moment that Kisuke realized just how inept he really was at this sort of emotional thing, how much he really didn’t know. It was hard to accept that he, quite possibly the most intelligent person in the world, was an absolute maladroit when it came to the simplest human contact. He could tell you how a person would react, how they would behave under any set of circumstances…but to actually be involved in those circumstances seemed to throw him for a proverbial loop.
“I thought it would be easier for you,” he tried to explain lamely, not able to pull the right words up. “I’m not the sort of person that’s easy to explain. You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable because I’m around.”
He looked away, no longer able to meet Ichigo’s eyes. The words were pouring out now, Kisuke unable to stop them, his usual reserve buried somewhere beneath the pain in Ichigo‘s voice and his own raging confusion.
“Not only are we both men but…I’m a few centuries older than you. I don’t want you to have to defend yourself to others because of me--”
He was cut off by Ichigo’s hand slapping itself over his mouth, the redhead drawing their gazes together again. “Shut up!” he practically growled, making Kisuke’s eyes widen. Before he could respond Ichigo continued, his voice getting louder. “I don’t care about any of that! Don’t you think I knew what I was doing when I got into this? I’m not stupid Kisuke!”
The hand was withdrawn from his face, but Urahara didn’t speak. Ichigo had that look in his eye, the one Urahara first remembered seeing in the training room beneath the shop, that resolve that could crush the world. It left him stunned, a little bewildered, a bit proud, and all together thunderstruck.
“You’re always so guilty!” Ichigo persisted, shaking Urahara’s shoulders. “You always think you’ve done something wrong! This isn’t wrong Kisuke…”
Ichigo paused, his face becoming pained again. He seemed at a loss for words, as though he’d said everything he wanted to say and now couldn’t think of what to do. In the end he leaned forward, pressing his hot cheek against Kisuke’s shoulder, closing his eyes. A slow breath against his neck made Kisuke shiver as Ichigo’s voice came out slightly broken. “This isn’t wrong…”
Urahara blinked, arms now hanging loosely at his sides, mouth opening and closing a few times dumbly. When had Ichigo gotten so smart? When had he gone from a rash teenager into a mature young man capable of such emotional stability? It made Kisuke smile, reaching up to trail his fingers through the orange spikes before taking a deep breath.
“You know what Ichigo,” he whispered, feeling the redhead stir beside him. “You’re right.”
“I am?” Ichigo raised his head up, a small smirk gracing his features. “You mean, for once you’re actually admitting that I’m right?”
“Don’t gloat too much,” Kisuke said, boldly reaching forward and brushing their lips together. “I‘m not one to allow this sort of thing to happen too often.”
Ichigo chuckled quietly, curling into his body with an almost purr. The tension that lingered between them was draining away, leaving the air feeling cooler, easier to breath. Kisuke nuzzled against Ichigo’s head, resisting the urge to sigh happily as that would have been terribly unmanly of him. He had an image to maintain after all.
“No more hiding, right?” Ichigo asked, his voice happier…almost hopeful.
“Correct.”
They sat together that way for a few minutes, neither speaking, the only communication being conveyed by slow caresses across slightly moist skin. Urahara hadn’t noticed due to the situation (and his own angst over said situation), but the night was actually quite warm. Warm enough that he was starting to imagine a cool bath might be rather nice. Maybe some ice cubes floating around in there…a choice rubber ducky or two…
“What did you get me for my birthday?” Ichigo questioned suddenly, as though he’d just thought of it and couldn’t wait to ask.
Kisuke laughed abruptly, falling backwards onto the wooden porch and bringing Ichigo with him so that the younger man lay draped across his body. Without a word he reached into his green haori and pulled out an old and worn picture, handing it to Ichigo with a grin. It was a photo taken back when he was a captain, smiling in front of the Institute on its opening day, Hiyori punching Hirako in the background. Ichigo had often asked what he’d been like when he was in Soul Society, and nearly every time he had somehow dodged the question. Too many painful memories, too many questions he didn’t want to answer.
So in a way, this was like allowing Ichigo into his past…somewhere he hadn’t allowed anyone else to be for a very long time. A free pass into who he once was, if that was what Ichigo truly wanted.
Ichigo looked at it intently, bringing the photo to his face, before turning it over and smiling in a strange way. Finding himself puzzled by the expression, Urahara nearly asked him if he liked it or not, wanting clarification. But before he could get even the first words out, he found his lips forcefully covered by Ichigo’s, his breath stolen and all words lost in the passionate exchange.
Letting his arms come up around Ichigo’s back, he brought their bodies flush together, rolling so that he was on top…the photo coming out of Ichigo’s grasp to gently flutter to the ground…
For You…Evergreen. Yours, Kisuke.
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Ume
The air smelt of orange blossoms, warm and humid, as it blew Ichigo’s hair back from his face. Blessed relief. This June had proven to be a particularly balmy one and a fine line of sweat was already beading up at his hairline, irritating the skin. He wiped it away with the tips of his fingers before turning his head to look out the open car window. Though he’d seen this particular scenery many times before, he knew that he most likely wouldn’t remember a thing about it. He never did. The buildings, the orchards, the rolling hills covered with some kind of strange clover…he wasn’t really paying any attention to it.
His mind was, as it always was this time of year, somewhere else entirely.
A quiet rustling from beside him drew his attention away from the landscape to his companion who was currently looking somewhat confusedly at the map in his hand. Kisuke had been amazingly quiet the entire trip, only speaking when it was absolutely necessary and keeping the car ride smooth. Now he was slowing said vehicle down to stare at the roadmap, biting his bottom lip in a way that made him seem much younger than he actually was. The gesture caused Ichigo to smile despite himself, shaking his head before reaching out to point down at their current location.
“Take the next right,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the back of Urahara’s hand. In the past his family had always gone to his mother’s grave by train, thereby making knowing the way by car unnecessary. But since he’d asked Kisuke to take the trip with him this year it unfortunately presented them with a unique problem. Ichigo, as of yet, was not in possession of a car. To that end they’d decided to take the older man’s minivan (not exactly cool, but it would work in a pinch), going a week early so that the two of them could visit Masaki in private. Ichigo had wanted the first time he introduced the blonde to his mother to be alone…though he wasn’t certain why.
“Thank you,” Urahara replied sheepishly, linking their fingers and giving Ichigo’s hand a small squeeze before looking back at the road. Though he would never tell him, Ichigo had been secretly astonished to see how good of a driver Urahara actually was. He had been half-expecting the eccentric man to either be a speed-demon or get distracted and land them in a ditch somewhere. So it had been a pleasant surprise when the entire two-hour trip was remarkably without incident (save for hitting that pothole the size of a child’s swimming pool early in the morning).
Quiet settled heavy in the car, broken only by the purr of the engine (Urahara had modified it so that it ran on spirit energy) and the soft whoosh of passing automobiles on the other side of the road. He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the radio, finding it more of an annoyance than a calming agent today. It was strange, but as much as he loved his mother, he found that most of the time he wanted nothing more than to have the visits to her grave be over quickly. They hurt…and Ichigo was not fond of emotional pain.
Suddenly Urahara cleared his throat, once more drawing Ichigo’s eyes to his face. He seemed as though he might be attempting to say something, mouth opening and closing a few times, though the redhead was bewildered as to what it might be. Of course, there was the obvious conversation, but so far Kisuke had been avoiding that topic.
Another squeeze at his hand and the quiet was finally broken. “Are you all right?” Urahara questioned, his voice small and reserved, not like his usually boisterous tone at all. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Ichigo smiled wistfully, rubbing soothing circles against the skin of Kisuke’s hand. This was the third time that the older man had posed that particular question. The first time being directly after Ichigo had asked Urahara to accompany him to his mother’s grave, the second time while they were eating breakfast outside at one of the small restaurants in the countryside. And just like previously, Ichigo’s response was the same: a simple smile and a kiss to the blonde’s cheek before waving away his concerns.
“Stop asking,” he said with a small laugh. “If I wanted to change my mind I would have done it already.”
“All right,” Kisuke murmured.
The rest of the ride seemed to go by more quickly, Ichigo’s nerves fraying the closer they got to the memorial site. Eventually he found himself squeezing Kisuke’s hand so hard that he heard the other man grunt quietly, Ichigo giving him an apologetic look before releasing the blonde’s (slightly purple) fingers. He hated this…hated it! So why did he keep torturing himself year after year by coming here? The question seemed like a simple one, easily answered, but when Ichigo looked inside himself for the solution all he found was his mother’s eyes…so dead and lifeless…staring at him…through him…
“I think we’re here,” Urahara’s voice broke through his thoughts, startling him so much that it felt like his heart had jumped into his throat. What the hell?!
Ichigo forced himself to sit unmoving for a moment to wrestle with himself, trying to force his tense muscles to relax. He had to get it together if he wasn’t going to embarrass himself in front of Kisuke. Not that the older man would probably mind…after all…they were a couple now, right? Couples were supposed to rely on each other for strength during their weaker moments. Lean on each other. So why did he feel so self-conscious about Urahara seeing him in such a pathetic state?
The car door opened beside him, a pale hand reaching out to grab his arm and unceremoniously drag him from the car. Before he could protest he was drawn into a warm hug, Kisuke’s arms wrapping around his body tightly while their cheeks brushed together tenderly. The embrace accomplished its goal, soothing him, calming his turbulent emotions enough to let him breath again. His own hands moved slowly down Urahara’s back, mapping the planes of muscle clutching at the blonde’s shirt for the briefest of instants before pulling away.
“Come on Kurosaki-kun,” Urahara said, walking in the direction of the small road that led into the graves. “Let’s go talk to Masaki-san and then I’ll take you out for dinner someplace quiet, hmm?”
“Okay,” Ichigo replied, going out in front so that he could lead the way. “You know, after I found out that you and my dad used to know each other…I kind of thought that you‘d have met my mom before.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Kisuke’s expression change marginally, his eyes flickering and the set of his shoulder‘s squaring, the muscle in his jaw getting a little bit more tense. It was during these observations that Ichigo realized how very in tune he was with the older man…how much things had changed. Back when they’d first met, he would have never noticed such a tiny change in Kisuke’s demeanor, wouldn’t have had the faintest idea how he was reacting to a statement at all. Now it seemed as though the blonde’s every motion was easily read, laid bare for Ichigo to see.
“You did, didn’t you?” Ichigo said pulling Urahara to his side. “I figured as much. Were you friends?”
“No,” Urahara said, obviously not willing to put any effort into hiding things further as they continued to walk up the steep hills leading to Masaki‘s grave. “I only met her once in passing. I don’t even think you could really call it a meeting since we never spoke…more like a glance.”
“Oh,” Ichigo replied, a little disappointed. He would have been lying if he hadn’t said that he kind of wished they were friends so he could hear more about her. He’d always been curious about the kind of person his mother had been as a younger woman. Was she rebellious? Hotheaded? Quiet? All he knew of her was from his childhood memories, obviously not objective due to his adoration and love. It would have been interesting to hear someone else’s perspective on the personality he could only remember in flashes.
Urahara glanced at him with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry Kurosaki-kun,” he whispered, as though to speak any louder would break the fragile peace that was around them. “I’m not much help, I know.”
“Shut up,” Ichigo smiled, pushing the blonde’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
Looking up towards the top of the hill, his smile faltered a little when he realized that his mother’s grave was now plainly in sight. His eyebrow began twitching as he pondered the fact that he hadn’t really planned what he was going to do once he got up there with Kisuke. It wasn’t as though he’d written some big speech or anything…what was he supposed to say?
‘Hello mom! I’ve brought a visitor this year! Meet Kisuke, my three hundred year old, super-genius, shinigami boyfriend whom I‘m pretty damn sure I‘m in love with but haven‘t told him yet because I’m a big freakin‘ coward. Oh! And did I mention I’m bisexual?’
Oh yeah…that was really going to go over well wasn’t it?
“Um…Ichigo?” Urahara tapped him on the shoulder. “We just walked by Masaki-san’s grave…”
“Shit,” Ichigo turned on his heel and stalked back over to the grave, pausing before his face fell a bit. The grave was exactly as he remembered it, plain and unadorned, pristine…just like he remembered his mother to be. He brushed a few dead leaves from the top of the stone and sighed. What to do now? Kisuke was looking at him in an expectant sort of way, as though Ichigo was going to lead this little introduction of sorts.
When he couldn’t come up with something he heard Urahara chuckle softly beside him and looked over. The older man was bending at the waist, his eyes closed and a small green charm in his hands that he placed on the headstone with care. “Thank you for your son, Kurosaki Masaki,” he murmured, still bent over. His voice was octaves lower than normal, bearing the tone it only took on when he was being very serious. The timbre sent a shiver working its way up Ichigo’s spine, making his breath catch almost painfully in his throat. “I will do my best to make him as happy for the rest of his life as you did at the beginning.”
With that Kisuke stood to his full height, turning towards him with a small smile before brushing pale fingers across Ichigo‘s cheekbone. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit. Call me if you want company, okay?”
Ichigo watched Kisuke walk away with a strange trembling feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It was the same feeling that had been there for months, growing each time the blonde would do something that caused Ichigo to instinctively react. It was an emotion that Ichigo was unfamiliar with, a sensation that was at once intensely painful while being pleasurably addictive at the same time. It had only been in the last few weeks that he’d started to fully understand what it was, his mind wrapping around the idea that the man he’d chosen to date was quite possibly…
“Mom,” he said suddenly, turning towards her grave and clenching his fists at his sides. This was why he hated dealing with his emotions…hated letting them control him in any way. They were so confusing! No matter what you did, they never seemed to coalesce! “What would you tell me if you were here?”
Again he glanced over at Kisuke who was currently quite a distance away, smoking idly on his kiseru while looking curiously at a few random headstones. The older man seemed to feel that he was being watched and looked up, meeting Ichigo’s gaze for a moment with a questioning expression before turning his attention back down to whatever he’d found so interesting. Ichigo swallowed heavily, running a hand through his hair, sitting down in front of his mother’s grave with his legs crossed.
“I think,” he said softly, staring down at his own lap. “I think I’m…”
“I don’t know mom!” he exclaimed, a bit louder than he’d intended, casting his glance around to make sure no one had seen his ridiculous outburst. He lowered his voice, noticing that it was quivering a bit, fighting against the swell of his emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. “I’ve never been in love before! How am I supposed to know that’s what this is?”
He pulled his knees up to his chest and set his face down on them, wrapping his arms around his legs. He would not cry. No way. That was about the most girly, pathetic, wretched thing he could do right now. No matter how badly he might want to do it, he was not going to give in to the urge. Nope.
“I wish you were here to help me out,” he whispered, letting all his breath go in one great rush. “Goat-face isn’t exactly the sort of person to confide in about my relationship, you know?”
Suddenly remembering something he’d brought with him, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled photograph, unbending the corner before looking down at it nostalgically. It had been winter, the Shoten was nestled in a soft blanket of white, and Kisuke had been supervising Ururu as she used the snow blower to clear off the back porch. Ichigo had come out a few minutes after that, reaching around Kisuke’s chest to hand him a quickly cooling cup of earl gray before nestling his face between the older man’s shoulder blades, arms wrapped contentedly around Urahara‘s waist. He had thought they were alone for the moment, that being the sole reason he’d given in to the affectionate urges, only to find out later that Rukia had taken a picture precisely at that instant. And of course Rukia, being the strange pervert she is, had shown it to…well…just about everybody.
Though he’d been completely humiliated at the time…he had to admit…the picture was good. And the emotion it called forth in his chest was all too real. Affection…desire…fidelity…a caring that went far beyond the way he felt about others. Love? The corners of Ichigo’s mouth pulled upwards as he ran his fingertips along the glossy surface, leaning forward to put the picture on his mother’s stone. Love.
“I’m in love with him,” he said, his voice steadier now, more sure. “And for the life of me I have no idea how to say it.”
Ichigo sat quietly for a while, mulling things over in his head, barely noticing the passage of time until the shadows around him began to grow and he found the air blowing more coolly across his face. Evening already? Head shooting up, he glanced around nervously, not finding Kisuke anywhere in the general vicinity. Had the older man gotten bored and wandered off somewhere? It wasn’t unlike the blonde to get preoccupied and forget what he’d been doing.
“Kisuke?” he called, standing up and turning around in a circle. Urahara was nowhere to be found. “Kisuke?!”
Moving to go back down the hill, he paused mid-step and placed two fingers to his lips, turning to press them against his mother’s grave before walking away. If Urahara knew what was good for him, he’d better not have driven away and left Ichigo to walk the entire way home. Practical jokes were something that his significant other liked to pull, even if most of the time they were really only amusing to him. Dammit…where was he?!
“Urahara!” his voice was growing steadily louder, and infinitely more annoyed, the longer he went without finding Kisuke. “Where the hell did you go?”
A very loud, very familiar, yawn sounded from above him, causing him to look upwards to the source of the noise. There he found Kisuke, eyes glazed over with the remnants of sleep, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at him. Blonde strands were sticking up all over the place, even more unruly than usual, falling over gray irises in a way that Ichigo was tempted to describe as…cute. When those same cloudy eyes blinked blearily at him and he grinned, Ichigo was sure. Definitely cute.
“What are you doing up there?” Ichigo questioned with a short laugh. “I was starting to think you’d left me behind.”
“Never Kurosaki-kun,” Kisuke yawned again, jumping down from the branch he was currently residing on to come up close to Ichigo and rub their cheeks together slowly. “Did you have a nice visit?”
Ichigo hesitated briefly, looking up at the blonde. “Yeah…I guess,” he answered finally, rising up to kiss at Urahara’s lips chastely. When he pulled away there must have been something in his eyes however, because the older man’s face fell rather abruptly, the grogginess washed away by concern.
“Are you sure?” Kisuke cocked his head to the side. “Did something happen?”
Ichigo sat still, warring with himself over what to say. Sitting with his mother may have helped a little, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Kisuke the truth. Hopefully, with an important moment like that, it would eventually just smack him over the head like a frying pan…right? Things like that could only happen when they were meant to happen; Ichigo knew at least that much. He’d probably just have to be patient and wait.
Not one of his better traits…but eh…
“Nah,” he smiled, reaching his arms up around Kisuke’s neck and drawing their lips together. Though the older man was hesitant at first (he was probably still really confused) he eventually melted into the kiss, drawing Ichigo closer with a satisfied sigh. They drew apart slowly; Ichigo raining tiny kisses across Kisuke’s jaw before laying his forehead on the blonde’s shoulder. “I’m all right. I’m hungry though…”
“Oh good!” Kisuke laughed, putting his arm around Ichigo’s shoulder to guide him back towards the car. “I was starting to waste away to nothing up in that tree…look at me…I‘m practically skin and bones! I‘m far too handsome to be so thin.”
Rolling his eyes, Ichigo pushed the blonde’s arm off and punched him smartly in the shoulder, grinning when the older man put on a tremendous show of being hurt. Without speaking he took Kisuke’s hand and smiled, finding it much easier to just enjoy his partner’s company than to worry about how to say things that (for now) were best left unsaid.
“You’re far too handsome to be so full of yourself too. Learn some humility!”
“I’ll do my best Kurosaki-san…perhaps I’ll take lessons from you, patron saint of modesty that you are.”
“I can make you walk home Kisuke…”
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Honey Wheat
Soft evening light was trickling in through the window, catching the sides of a clear water glass that sat on the counter and littering the kitchen walls with tiny, rippling shards of color. Kisuke quietly closed the refrigerator door and picked the cup up, bringing the ice water to his lips while his bare feet padded across the cool tile floors. The house was empty today, the sounds of the children’s arguing absent from the hallways and Tessai’s strange mumblings not present in the shop. It had been a perfect day to spend alone with Ichigo…
Speaking of said young man, Urahara smiled as he looked out the back door to see him lounging on his side in the grass, rubbing at his nose absentmindedly. Ichigo’s eyes were closed, head lying on his upper arm as a steady line of sweat ran down his temple and across his cheek. He looked hot, and Kisuke didn’t mean that in the attractive way (though that was obviously true). Even his t-shirt was sweaty, clinging to his muscles in a way that couldn’t be comfortable.
Summer was taking its last gasps in the early days of September, but that didn’t mean that the heat didn’t wrap around him like a wet blanket as Kisuke made his way out onto the porch. Almost instantly he began to feel himself sweat, opening up his fan and waving it in front of his face a few times to alleviate the burst of warmth against his skin. Though he’d originally started using it to cover up his facial expressions (thereby making himself seem more mysterious) there was something to be said for always having a cooling agent on hand. Not to mention it was cute. Yep…it was hard to resist a handsome, perverted shopkeeper with a fan and a long sword.
Urahara crossed his legs in the grass with a peaceful sigh, moving the fan it in front of Ichigo’s face to watch the orange locks blow backwards as the corners of his mouth perked upwards. Kisuke’s own smile became mischievous when a hand was placed on his thigh, long fingers kneading the fabric and the muscle underneath in a way that wasn‘t all together innocent. If he hadn’t been so relaxed he might have made some sort of perverted comment or “accidentally” inclined his hips so that Ichigo’s hand brushed against his crotch.
As it stood however, he was too drugged with heat and tranquility to really push the issue.
“Mmm,” Ichigo practically purred, scooting a little closer to Kisuke so that his nose brushed the older man’s pants. His voice was drowsy and soft, somewhat like the delicate light of the sunset that danced across his skin, making it glow like honey wheat laying low in the fields. “Nice day.”
“I agree,” Kisuke concurred, continuing to fan Ichigo’s face while running his free hand through the slightly damp orange tresses. The redhead’s response was encouraging, pushing his head further into Urahara’s hand, trying to get more of the gentle caress. For someone who was usually such a prude, Ichigo was surprisingly insatiable when it came to affection. He enjoyed it…despite how he might say otherwise. And, of course, Kisuke would never tire of giving it to him…despite how much he might tease.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go inside in the air-conditioning?” Kisuke questioned, noticing that the younger man really was rather soaked with sweat. Ichigo merely shook his head, eyebrows coming together when Urahara’s hand slowed in his hair. So greedy! Kisuke couldn’t help but cease the motion all together, earning a very disgruntled sound as the brown eyes cracked slowly open.
“Why’d you stop?” Ichigo scowled, crawling up and putting his chin on Urahara’s thigh, turning his irritated gaze up to Kisuke’s face. For a moment Urahara wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but the longer he looked down at the bottom lip jutting out in annoyance, the absolute pouty face…the more his mind turned decidedly lewd. Glancing to the glittering cup of ice water sitting near his leg, he focused his attention back on the young man practically in his lap.
“Because I just had a thought Ichigo,” he replied, dipping his finger into said water and smearing a wet line across Ichigo‘s eyebrows. “You look so uncomfortably hot down there…I thought perhaps you might want to take off your shirt.”
Quickly Ichigo’s hand came up and smacked Kisuke hard upside the arm, his own hand coming up to rub at the stinging area before looking down at the redhead in an affronted way. Was it something he said? “Ow! What was that for!? I’m thinking of your well-being Kurosaki-kun!”
“No,” Ichigo countered, voice amused, face breaking out in a tiny grin. His eyes were already closing again, slowly twisting his body to lay his cheek once more against the grass with a sigh of pleasure. He was the picture of contentment, which was unusual considering how angst-ridden the young man could be. “You’re thinking about devious ways to get me out of my clothes. It won’t work you know.”
Couldn’t argue there…
“Now I admit, usually you’d be right,” Kisuke laughed, poking Ichigo’s cheek and watching the orange eyebrows come together. “But really…I’ve seen you half naked before. Hell in your bankai outfit most of your belly and chest shows anyway…”
When the younger man didn’t seem to be responding Kisuke’s bottom lip came out, leaning down to run his nose along the teenager’s neck to get his attention. He smiled softly when small goose bumps broke out on the smooth skin, a shiver running down Ichigo’s body. “Please Ichigo? I promise that will be the entirety of what you take off this evening…please with sugar?”
Ichigo sighed, pushing himself up abruptly to fix Kisuke with a stare, his expression shifting through emotions as though he were weighing his options before making a decision. Wise boy. Then, with a defeated roll of his eyes, he pulled his shirt up over his head, exposing line upon line of beautiful abdominal muscles to Urahara’s ravenous gaze. No matter how many bad decisions he may have made in life, Kisuke was certain that the gods must have loved him to adorn him with the affections of such a glorious youth. Truly he was a blessed man.
“There,” Ichigo said sleepily, tossing the sweat-soaked shirt into Kisuke‘s face before plopping himself back down on the ground. “Happy now?”
“Extremely,” Kisuke breathed, swallowing thickly, letting the shirt fall from his suddenly nerveless fingers. If the sight of Ichigo’s chest had been welcome, the view of his back was…overwhelming. From the curves of his shoulder blades to the plane of his spine, each muscle was a masterpiece, perfectly proportioned. Urahara had to look away briefly, his fingers tingling with the need to reach out and touch at the flawless skin, closing his eyes to get a hold on himself before he did something foolish. What had he been thinking, asking Ichigo to take off his clothes like that?!
When he opened his eyes they once again landed on the glass near his leg, the ice cubes floating in endless circles around the water. Cocking his head to the side, Kisuke felt the corner of his lips quirk upward, tongue coming out to brush at his top lip. Instinctively his hand reached out, pulling out a partially melted cube and running it between his fingers, watching the water drip to the ground. Ichigo was probably going to kill him…but he really was having a hard time convincing himself not to do it.
“Hey!” Ichigo practically shouted as the first drop hit his skin, squirming and glaring daggers at Urahara over his shoulder. “Knock it off!”
Before Ichigo could protest further Kisuke was on him, legs spread to either side of Ichigo’s hips, sitting firmly on the younger man’s butt. Laughing darkly, Urahara leaned forward, putting all his weight on the pliant body beneath him and moving his mouth down beside Ichigo’s ear. “Relax,” he whispered, letting his tongue come out to graze the ear near his lips, nipping playfully at it and enjoying the delicious fidget the younger man bestowed in return. “I’m going to cool you off…”
“Stop, you pervert…” Ichigo complained less forcefully, voice slightly breathy, his hips bucking up to attempt to knock Urahara off his body. The push only succeeded in brushing them together however, making Kisuke’s eyes slam shut harshly against the rush of friction. Breathing suddenly became harder to do as he realized that keeping control of himself was going to be more difficult than he’d originally imagined. He hadn’t counted on Ichigo’s response being so arousing.
Deciding to go forward with his plan anyway, he sat back up to his full height and squeezed his thighs together to keep Ichigo still, pushing the ice cube firmly against the top of the redhead’s backbone. Instantly Ichigo began cursing, his body rocking as his arms tried in vain to reach backwards and grab at Urahara’s hands. Not deterred, Kisuke ran the melting ice further down the tanned spine, grinning when Ichigo’s jerks began to lessen and soft pants made his back rise and fall more quickly. Was he giving up? Or was it just starting to feel good?
“That’s cold Kisuke,” Ichigo almost whined, wiggling his hips back and forth beneath Kisuke’s crotch. The act sent another shockwave up the older man’s spine, a heat settling in his gut that had nothing to do with the weather. His eyelids were heavy now as he leaned downward again, unable to stop his teeth from sinking into the back of Ichigo’s neck. He practically growled when the teenager gasped and shuddered below him, a sense of possessiveness washing over him, exhilarating in its intensity. The redhead’s skin always had the same flavour, only this time it was tainted with sweat and a little bit of dirt. Almost a filthy taste…one that Urahara found strangely erotic.
“Stop wiggling like that Ichigo,” his voice was low, grinding the words out between the teeth that still held the younger man’s flesh between them. “Or this won’t stay playful for much longer.”
Pulling slowly away from Ichigo’s neck, he watched curiously as brown eyes glanced over a bare shoulder, giving Kisuke a look that could only be described as purely evil. What was he up to? Seconds passed as they continued to stare, henna into rainy gray, until with a smirk the younger man began rolling his hips in a gentle, sensual rhythm, his breath catching quietly. Perfect white teeth came out soon afterwards; catching that bottom lip so enthralled Kisuke in an obviously teasing way. Devious scamp. The pure eroticism of the gyration made Kisuke involuntarily cry out, pushing one hand on Ichigo’s back to steady himself while wondering vaguely when the younger man had grown so bold. What kind of beast had he awakened in that prim and proper mind?
The pace was slow at first, leisurely and unhurried, but soon it was picking up speed, Urahara pressing his forehead against the redhead’s back with a soft, almost painful sound. If he wasn’t careful, this would get out of control quickly. It had been so long since he’d been with a lover…so long in fact that even this slight contact was easily enough to make his cock harden instantly and press sharply into the body below. He wasn’t so stupid as to think that Ichigo couldn’t feel it, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the younger man was using it to his advantage.
“Kurosaki-kun,” he groaned, letting his tongue come out to lap at the young man’s skin, licking at the water he’d placed there a few moments before. It was tepid already, heated by the setting sun overhead and the warmth of Ichigo’s skin. Luscious. Inspired by the soft moan he heard from underneath, he moved his mouth further down, closer to Ichigo’s waistband, teasing the flesh he found there with subtle nibbles. He remained there momentarily, abusing the skin friskily, until he felt Ichigo arch his body into the touch, gasping out his name in a tone that went straight to Kisuke‘s cock. Only then did Urahara flatten his tongue against the small of his back, working with deliberate slowness up the redhead’s spine, halting every few centimeters to nip and suck at random patches of skin.
Ichigo was writhing now; Urahara could see where his knuckles were going white against the grass he gripped tightly between his fingers. The reaction made Kisuke a little proud, taking satisfaction in his ability to make his lovers scream without ever even touching the more intimate areas of their bodies. His gaze wandered back to Ichigo‘s face, drinking in the sight of the faint blush staining the tanned skin, the teenager’s cheek firmly pressed against the ground, eyes closed, mouth partially open as puffs of air rushed out in gasps. The scene was so sexy it caused Kisuke to hesitate in his actions, mouth pressed in an open kiss against Ichigo’s back as he stared captivated into the lustful copper gaze now fixed solely on him. If he’d ever witnessed anything so beautiful…he couldn’t remember it now.
Unable to stop, he twisted himself to the side until his lips came into semi-contact with Ichigo’s, gasping when the redhead’s still-rolling hips sent another wave of pleasure through his nerves. The kiss was sloppy and wet, their mouths barely able to meet with the younger man still on his stomach, but Urahara made it work despite the awkward angle. He could feel a faint line of saliva trail down the redhead’s cheek, the exchange more a dance of tongues meshing passionately than mouths pressing together. It had to be, quite possibly, the dirtiest kiss of his entire life…and it was sublime.
“I want,” Ichigo gasped, his tongue coming out to lick against Kisuke’s wantonly. “I want to kiss you…please Kisuke…”
Urahara’s response to the plea was immediate, turning Ichigo over roughly and pushing their lips together hard enough that teeth clacked together a little. The long legs beneath him opened wider to allow him to rest in between, the younger man’s hands dancing up his back, snaking down his arms, teasing inside his shirt, and eventually finding purchase on his ass to pull their groins together. Ichigo, to Urahara’s delight, was just as hard as he was, ready and seemingly very willing to go. Time seemed to slow as they locked eyes until hesitantly Ichigo began rolling his hips again, fingers digging into Kisuke’s upper thighs almost painfully.
The world was spinning slower now, each passing second encompassing what felt like a hundred lifetimes within the short span of time. Urahara could feel everything…Ichigo’s lips silken against his own, their bodies pushing somewhat frantically against each other, the sound of cloth scraping, Ichigo moaning into his mouth, the feel of the redhead‘s hair caught tight in his fingers…dirty, sensual, sullied, exquisite…everything he could ever want.
“Ichigo,” Kisuke whimpered softly, breaking the kiss and pressing his face into the redhead’s neck, biting at the skin there until it began to turn a light purplish color. As the skin threatened to break under his teeth Ichigo’s whole body bucked upwards, a throaty cry spilling from his lips.
It was then, upon hearing that impassioned cry, that Urahara realized two things. One, they were still outside where anyone could interrupt them (not good)…and two, that this wasn’t how he wanted their first time together to be. Granted, his body was screaming otherwise, his cock throbbing agonizingly and his blood rushing so fast that he was having trouble thinking clearly…but he couldn’t do this. Not here in the grass like two beasts rutting in the dirt. Ichigo deserved better…
His hands shot out to catch the younger man’s hips, stopping them from moving as he pulled his mouth away from Ichigo’s neck with a liquid pop. His self-control wavered for the briefest of moments as he heard the disappointed moan from below, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t be tempted to give into the crestfallen expression that he knew would be there. Ichigo would thank him for this later when things were more perfect…when the younger man wouldn’t look back on his first time with the regret that it hadn’t been right.
“Why not?” Ichigo whispered, his fingers still clinging to Urahara’s thighs, though with much less force. Kisuke didn’t respond right away, still too busy with bringing his breathing back under control and calming his body down enough so that he could think clearly. Eventually he felt Ichigo lean upward, a small lick to his cheek indicating that the redhead wanted his undivided attention. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Kisuke turned his face to the question, surprised when he saw how concerned Ichigo was underneath all that pent up sexual frustration. There was depth in that brown gaze that stunned him, made him breathless all over again. Ichigo’s own breathing was still choppy and uneven, body shaking violently against Urahara’s own, his skin still a bit flushed. Worry over the younger man’s condition prompted him to wrap his arms back around the smaller body and roll them both onto their sides. Nothing was worse, in Urahara’s opinion, than getting all worked up and then having the entire thing deflate on you. Can you say ’blue balls’? Ichigo didn’t protest, allowing him to rain kisses in the orange hair in an effort to calm the younger man’s obviously fraying nerves.
“I’m fine,” Urahara soothed, rubbing his hands in comforting circles around Ichigo’s back. Regretfully he kissed the swollen lips so close to his own, willing the teen to understand the intentions behind his refusal. “But I can’t do this right now.”
Ichigo looked up at him curiously, a pale orange eyebrow rising as the younger man settled more firmly in his embrace. Finally a small smile pulled as his lips and he poked Urahara lightly in the stomach with a small snicker. “Are you like…having erectile dysfunction or something? I mean…I know you’re old and all…”
Kisuke’s mouth fell open at that, trying to decide if Ichigo was being serious or not. “I-Ichigo!” he stammered, closing his mouth only to have it fall open again. He must have looked rather ridiculous because the teenager began laughing in earnest, the sound soft and happy. At least he wasn’t angry about stopping in the middle of their little frottage session. “I do not need Viagra! What, you couldn’t feel it pressing into that tight little rump of yours?”
For emphasis he gave Ichigo’s butt a small squeeze, delighting in the gasp he got in return. “Little smartass,” Kisuke purred, kissing Ichigo’s cheek. “But no…I just don’t want you to lose your virginity like an dog in the backyard. Unless that’s all right with you?”
Ichigo’s face fell for a moment, as if he were finally realizing where exactly he was and what he’d been doing. When he finally grasped the situation his eyes went wide as cup saucers, his body becoming tight in Kisuke’s arms. “Um…no…not really…I just…” he began, a faint blush breaking out on his cheeks as his words faded away. The rest needed no explanation. Urahara was more than aware that the younger man had been practically consumed by the deluge of hormones assaulting his senses. It wasn’t as though he’d never been young once…and hormones were something that not even his substantial intellect had been able to overcome.
“I know Ichigo, you don’t have to clarify,” he smiled, scooting his hips a few inches away from the ones beside him so that their more intimate areas weren’t brushing against each other anymore. The younger man sighed softly, face relaxing as the storm between them calmed down, leaving him looking exhausted. “I can completely empathize…”
“You could have, you know…done it…and I wouldn’t have stopped you,” Ichigo murmured, suddenly looking very serious.
“You act like I don’t know this…you can‘t resist my charms Kurosaki-kun!” Urahara laughed, watching Ichigo’s expression go from very seriously grave to very seriously annoyed all in the matter of three seconds. The reaction made the laughter bubble further up in Kisuke’s chest, drawing Ichigo close again despite his initial protests. There was nothing he liked more than getting a rise out of the redhead…it was one of life’s greatest pleasures to be sure.
“You act like you don’t know that I’ll kick your balls up into your sternum,” Ichigo threatened in what Urahara thought had to be his best scary voice, even though it was muffled by the fact that his face was pressed into Kisuke‘s chest. All it needed was that weird underwater effect that wearing his hollow mask gave it and everything would have been perfect.
“Don’t damage equipment that you’ll eventually grow to love,” Kisuke raised an eyebrow, his laughter dying down though his smile wasn’t. “You should be thanking me for my self-restraint, not threatening my manhood.”
“I can’t start thanking you until the shock wears off…seeing as how this has to be the first time you’ve shown any self-restraint around me at all,” Ichigo said sarcastically, looking as though he were fighting laughter of his own.
“That wounded me Ichigo…I’m really hurt…”
“Not as much as me…I’ve never had blue balls before but this shit hurts like hell!”
And the ice cubes that originally started the whole ordeal slowly melted away, the cup laying forgotten in the grass as the two men gathered themselves back up and went inside to cool off. It was only when it got ran over by the lawnmower a few days later that Urahara even remembered it was there…and that was only because Tessai looked as though he were going to murder someone with glass shards sticking out of his apron like little knives.
Maybe next time he’d use that Captain Planet sippy cup instead…
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Thanks guys! Loves!
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Cherry!
