Fic: Just Desserts Arc: Semi-Sweet Morsel
Aug. 13th, 2008 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
conjure_lassAuthor: Conjure Lass!
Title: Semi-Sweet Morsel
Rating: Hard R to be sure.
Pairing: Uraichi
Warnings: Not a whole lot. Angst, fluff, a bit of limey goodness. Nothing explicit.
Summary: Despite the feeling being so strong, it still needs to be voiced.
Author's Notes: This chapter took me a while to get out and for that i'm very sorry! I hope that an 8200 word chapter makes up for it!! *smile*
“I think it would be better if you didn‘t see me anymore Kurosaki-san.”
Those words rang over and over in Ichigo’s head, fingers holding his pillow in a white-knuckled grip as he forced back the tears that he refused to let fall. It had been a month since Kisuke had made that fateful statement, and Ichigo still wasn’t able to comprehend it. It had caught him unprepared, seemingly out of the blue, completely in left field. What was going on? No matter how many times he asked himself that question, he never came up with any answers…
“Why are you doing this Kisuke?” he whispered into his mattress, biting on his bottom lip to distract himself momentarily. Though the words repeated themselves in an endless loop, it was the older man’s eyes that seemed burned into his memory, haunting him when he tried to sleep and interrupting his thoughts during the day. Those gray eyes had been so hurt, so apologetic, so forlorn…so contrary to everything the blonde had been saying at the time. Why did it have to be like this? It didn’t make sense!
“I’m two hundred years old and you‘re seventeen. You need to be with someone your own age…”
He rolled over in his bed, staring at the closet that used to house Rukia (thank the gods she wasn‘t here to see his sorry state), and sighed for what had to be the hundredth time. There was pale moonlight shining across the floor, illuminating the room and sending a band of light onto the nightstand near the bed. The beam glittered briefly on a dark black picture frame, drawing Ichigo’s attention before he reached out to take it in his fingers and bring the photo close to his face.
It wasn’t a very old photograph, taken only a few months before at one of the local festivals in town. Kisuke was wearing a long black kimono; forest green vines woven in delicate metallic thread climbing over his shoulders and down his back and arms. The robe had been tied with a long green sash, his hair uncovered and hanging loose over his eyes. He was looking over his shoulder at the photographer (that had been Ichigo) with his fan in one hand and a skewer of tokayaki in the other, a brilliant smile on his face. It had been one of those days that felt perfect, as though it could go on forever.
Which couldn’t be any further from how Ichigo was feeling right now…
“Please don’t try to persuade me otherwise…this is for the best…”
“This can’t be for the best,” Ichigo said miserably, running the pad of his thumb over the glass. “How can being pushed away from the person I love be for the best?”
Though he tried to make sense of it, none of the puzzle pieces were fitting together. Too many things stood out in his mind, too many feelings remained raw, the situation not revealing itself fully. One day Kisuke had been fine, joking with him like normal…the next the blonde had pulled him aside and ended their relationship in one fell swoop. The action had left Ichigo inconsolable, floundering for some kind of reason behind the separation. Something had to have happened in between, something to make the older man act the way he had...but what? Ichigo couldn’t help but wonder if the fault lay with himself, knowing how weak it was to feel that way but not really caring. Was it something he‘d done? Had he said something wrong? The answers didn’t seem to be forthcoming since he couldn’t figure it out himself and Urahara was refusing to meet with him.
He’d even told Tessai and the kids not to let Ichigo into the shop…
Slowly he let the picture fall to the side near his pillow, finding himself emotionally unable to look at it anymore without succumbing to the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he called or how often he went by the shop; Kisuke simply wouldn‘t talk to him. It was pathetic, to be pining over the man like some wench from a sappy romance novel, but he found himself unable to feel otherwise. He’d never been in love before, and so had never had to deal with the pains of a broken heart.
In the end he could only conclude that maybe if he’d told Kisuke the truth…told the older man how he really felt…that maybe things wouldn’t be like this…
But now he’d never know.
“What?! Why are you saying this Kisuke?”
Across town Urahara was also laying in his bed, trying his best to ignore the screaming guilt that rushed through him every time the scene replayed in his head. There had been no easy way to do it, no simple solution, and so he’d simply plowed in headfirst without stopping to reason. He’d convinced himself that there had been no other option, because if he’d honestly paused to reconsider he probably would have lost the nerve to do it.
And despite all words to the contrary…he wanted desperately to be with Ichigo.
He stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully, listening to the sound of someone walking silently past his room without stopping to say hello as they normally would. It had been very quiet in the Shoten over the past month, each day growing more and more tense as everyone’s concern for his well-being rose. He knew they all wanted to say something to him. It was only natural. He wasn’t talking, he wasn’t working, he was barely eating, he almost never came out of his bedroom…he was a convoluted mess and he damn well knew it. But it was unavoidable.
“I miss Ichigo,” he admitted softly to himself, bottom lip jutting out pitifully before he covered his face with an arm. All he wanted to do at the moment was get on the phone and tell Ichigo that he’d changed his mind, that he was sorry. All he wanted to say was that he was coming over to the redhead’s house right now and they were going to talk until the sun rose and kiss until their lips were swollen. But…he wasn’t going to do that. Nope. Kisuke was going to lay right there on his futon and force himself to stay still, to not give in to his baser impulses, to push down the one brilliant emotion that could cause him to change his mind.
“I…I thought…don’t you care about me?”
And he did care…that was the problem. He cared so much that it seemed like every breath he took was becoming less and less his own, as though his heart was not in his possession anymore. It had gone beyond simple caring a long time ago, morphing into something deep and long lasting, something he was terrified to put a label on even though he already knew what it was. Love. It was an entirely conventional feeling, and yet had the ability to make one feel as though they were the first person alive to ever experience its joys. Quite the enigma.
“Dammit,” he cursed, turning over and shoving his face into the pillow. This wouldn’t be happening if he hadn’t seen that college brochure poking out of Ichigo’s bag; hadn’t had the realization that came with its implications. That treacherous pamphlet was the cause of everything! He felt his fingers clutch at the fabric under his face, eyes closed tight against the rush of pain he felt every time he thought about Ichigo going away…leaving…
Leaving him behind…
He’d tried to convince himself that he was doing this for Ichigo’s own good, that it was for the best that he find himself someone more suitable to be with. Ichigo deserved nothing but the best out of his life. A beautiful wife, a good career, a comfortable existence, children if he wanted them. Kisuke couldn’t offer him any of those things. No matter how you looked at it, the two of them being together was more of a hindrance to the redhead that a benefit, something he’d probably be better off without. That’s what Urahara had told himself repeatedly throughout the past month. Again and again.
But truthfully? His intentions weren’t nearly so selfless. From the moment he had seen that leaflet he had realized that…Ichigo was growing up. Ichigo was going to go away to college. Ichigo was going to…forget all about him. The sting of those thoughts had ripped at Kisuke’s heart like a serrated blade, tearing at the fragile emotion that he felt for the younger man. Of course he should have known better than to let himself get too attached, but love had snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking and he had fallen hard.
And so he had decided to end it now, rather than wait all those years for the inevitable to happen. Sure, Ichigo was upset now, but in the long run he’d thank Urahara for his foresight in saving them both some needless anguish. The only problem? Neither of them wanted it to be over. The look on pure sorrow on Ichigo’s face when Urahara had told him they shouldn’t be together anymore had stolen the breath from his body, made his heart sink so far into his stomach he’d thought never to recover it. Was the idea of losing him really that awful to Ichigo? Was he worth so much to the younger man?
He couldn’t let himself believe that…it would make this entire month pointless. Not that it wasn’t already.
But it was no use. No matter how many times he told himself that Ichigo couldn’t possibly be in love with him, that the redhead was just infatuated, that this wasn’t real and could never last…it didn’t erase the memory of Ichigo looking back over his shoulder as he walked away from the Shoten. The emotion, profound and painful, had been there plain as day.
“Ichigo…”
“Kisuke…”
His bed was growing more uncomfortable by the moment, the plain bedroom walls quickly closing in around him, suffocating him. He had to get out of here! Now! So with a shaky breath Ichigo sat up, swinging his feet to the floor and shivering when the cold from the wood worked its way up his legs to settle in the base of his spine. Spring may have been half over, but that didn’t mean that the nights were always warm yet…there was still a chill in the air, enough to make you pause. Enough to remind you that winter had only just loosened its deathly grip upon the countryside.
It didn’t take him long to get dressed, pulling on his coat before going downstairs, careful not to let his presence wake the rest of his slumbering family. He had almost made it to the front door when he felt movement behind him, stopping with his hand on the doorknob but not turning around to see who it was. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t feel it; he didn’t need to be told.
“Are you going out?” Isshin asked quietly, his tone thoughtful. It was the tone he used whenever he had something more serious to say, the only one that Ichigo tended to listen to. The silence stretched thin and strained between them before he spoke again. “Everything is going to be all right Ichigo…you just have to be patient.”
All right? The words made Ichigo’s heart drop a little, widening his eyes as tears once more hovered just beyond the border of his carefully constructed self-control. How was everything going to be all right? Sure, he might get over it eventually, but it would never just be all right. Things like that didn’t just suddenly become “all right”. What the hell was the matter with his old man anyway? Why, after a month of Ichigo being this way, had goat-face decided now was a good time to play “father of the year“?
“Was everything ‘all right’ when mom died?” Ichigo hissed angrily, his voice wavering. “Did everything just suddenly become okay?”
Ichigo didn’t give his father time to respond, stepping outside before they could get into some kind of retarded discussion about lost love and “other fish in the sea”. He didn’t give a shit about any of that right now. Couldn’t he just have a broken heart in peace? Other people got sad and wallowed in their misery for a while…couldn’t he do the same? Or was he not allowed to do something so contemptible? He felt weak, and by the gods he was going to act that way for a little while, even if it was pathetic.
He stared down at his sneakered feet as he walked silently through the night, wondering vaguely where he was going. It wasn’t as though he had anywhere he desperately needed to be…he was pretty much aimless. Ichigo’s only hope was that wherever his feet took him tonight was somewhere that his demons wouldn‘t follow. It was unlikely however since they seemed to live everywhere. Pity. His frayed emotions could have used the break.
Looking back up, he watched his breath fog the air in soft puffs, dissipating into the night like half-seen apparitions. The chill made him pull the furry collar of his bomber jacket closer to his body, smiling nostalgically as he detected a hint of cologne that didn‘t belong to him. Without thinking he pushed his nose further into the fur, remembering the last time he’d worn the jacket.
“Could you stomach being with me forever? I’m not so easy to deal with,” Kisuke murmured, pushing his face into Ichigo’s shoulder. The warmth was welcome, chasing away the cold of the late afternoon; waves of heat pulsing pleasantly down his arm.
“You‘re not that bad…I think I could handle it,” Ichigo replied softly, practically purring (though managing to avoid it) when the blonde brushed his face along the fur of his coat, working that scratchy cheek up his neck until soft kisses were being rained behind his ear. “Unless you have plans to get rid of me.”
“Never Ichigo,” the older man laughed softly between caresses. “I’m afraid my affections are fixed upon you. You’re done for.”
“Liar,” Ichigo wrenched his nose away from the fabric and angrily kicked a rock that was in his path, sending it skittering away down a steep hill. His memories mocked him, drew him endlessly into their loop, besieging him with happier times. How was he supposed move on when all he could think about was how much he had lost? Everywhere he looked the town seemed to harbor some memory, trigger some emotion in his chest that sent him spiraling out of control all over again.
He was walking by yet another set of trashcans, a startled tabby cat jumping out from behind them to quickly run away, when he realized exactly where he had wound up. Treacherous feet. Whether due to habit or fate’s sick sense of humor, he had found himself standing directly in front of the Shoten, face falling instantly as he surveyed the dark windows and locked doors. The gods must have been laughing at him right now, enjoying his misery as they made merriment at his heart’s expense.
“I’m not doing this,” he said rigidly, turning on his heel to walk away. He was stopped however by a tiny voice coughing behind him, his eyebrows coming together in confusion and surprise. He hadn’t seen anyone there a moment ago, had thought himself completely alone…but then again he hadn’t really been looking either. Being angst-ridden and emo will make you unobservant.
“What are you doing out of bed Ururu,” he admonished gently, turning to find her standing a few feet away in a pair of white pajamas with little cupcakes on them. Ichigo knew from personal experience that she also had slippers and a little sleeping cap to match. The pinnacle of cute. “You shouldn’t be up…and you shouldn’t be talking to me.”
“Kisuke-san isn’t here,” she said abruptly, obviously choosing to ignore his statements all together. Though her voice was mild, her eyes were not. Behind that sweet exterior was a will just as strong as his own, a deep desire to help those she cared for that was as strong as any shinigami‘s. There was a powerful woman lurking just below the surface of that childish face. “He went for a walk…I don’t know where he was going.”
She looked away shyly, nibbling at her bottom lip before continuing so softly that Ichigo had to strain to hear her. “If you hurry you might catch him. I think he‘d like to be caught.”
That was all Ichigo needed to hear, yelling his thanks to Ururu as he ran back around the corner he’d come from. Maybe the gods were on his side after all…
“Kisuke…”
The gods delighted in tormenting him, of that Kisuke was entirely sure. First they saw fit to bless him with the affections of such a perfect young man, only to plague him with endless doubt and insecurity just as he was finally realizing how much that young man truly meant to him. It seemed cruel, but he figured he probably deserved it. How many lives had he inadvertently ruined throughout the years? How many times had he hurt people through simple boredom…through carelessness?
Yes, he probably deserved this…
So why, if this whole situation was entirely righteous, did he find himself walking to Ichigo's house anyway? He hadn't started the walk with those intentions; he'd merely needed a little fresh air to clear his head. But somehow he found his feet wearing the same established path that they had walked a hundred times before. Maybe it was his unending craving to see the redhead. Maybe it was masochism. Maybe it was fate. But whatever the cause; it was guiding him, leading him down the streets to Ichigo's window. Just a quick glance…just for a moment.
His geta sandals clacked with a noisy finality against the sidewalk as he paused, finally finding himself outside the Kurosaki residence. Ichigo's room was dark, a faint beam of moonlight shining through his open window, the breeze blowing the curtains within. Urahara’s gaze narrowed as he concentrated, trying to focus on the younger man's reiatsu only to find it absent from the area. Where was Ichigo? He should have been there. He was always there on Wednesday nights. Always.
His heart clenched painfully, imagining all the possible scenarios. What if Ichigo was hurt somewhere in town? What if he needed Kisuke’s help? It seemed unlikely, since he hadn’t felt any hollows or strange energy nearby, but that didn’t stop his mind from throwing everything plus the kitchen sink at him. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Ichigo that he could have prevented, would never be able to move past it. His heart wasn’t that strong. What was he going to do?
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, to relax the ripples that were cascading through his emotions. It was probably something as simple as Ichigo going for a walk…right? Right. It was silly to get all worked up over a little late night excursion, though he jumped up into the open window anyway just to make sure the younger man wasn’t just masking his reiatsu remarkably well. Not that Ichigo was especially good at that, but he’d surprised Urahara before so it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.
“Ichigo?” Kisuke whispered softly, glancing around the empty bedroom. Not there. He gradually let out a breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding, climbing through the window frame to settle on the rumpled comforter for a moment. Upon closer inspection he found that the sheets were still warm, the indentation of Ichigo‘s spiky head still visible upon the pillow as Kisuke ran his fingertips along its fluffy surface. He hadn’t been gone long, that much was certain. Now the only question remaining was why the younger man had left in the first place…
Kisuke’s eyes wandered over the bed, settling on a picture frame resting beside the pillow. He knew that photo. He remembered that smile. Before he could stop himself he was reaching out, lifting the picture close to his face to scrutinize it. That day had been perfect, from the weather to the setting to the company. Everything had been so good. Why had he willingly given all that up? Were his groundless fears really enough to push away the first person he’d come to love in centuries? Why was he doing this? Shouldn’t he at least allow Ichigo the opportunity to prove him wrong?
He wanted to be wrong.
Another deep breath, another set of unanswered questions. He exited the room shortly after that, making certain to place the photo exactly back where it had been before reluctantly starting the journey back to the shop. It was slow going though, since he really didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to lay on his bed and brood, didn’t want to face all the unanswered questions plaguing his mind. Basically he just didn’t want to think…period. But the night was still young, and the stars were rather lovely, twinkling gently in a blanket of navy blue. It was a perfect evening to sit and stare off into space, even if his mind never really turned off.
So that was how he found himself sitting idly on a tall concrete floodwall near the river, gazing out over the city with a tumultuous heart. It had been a long time since he’d found himself so absolutely unable to sort out his thoughts. So long in fact that the sensation was almost indescribably terrifying…horrifying in its disorder. The unexpected swell of emotion sent a shiver up his spine as he reached for his kiseru, placing it between slightly numb lips before looking for his matches. No good. He hadn’t brought them. Naturally.
“Dammit,” he cursed, rolling his eyes. Couldn’t he at least have this one small comfort?
“Here…let me,” came a soft voice from beside him, Kisuke’s head whipping around as a silver lighter rose up towards his face, the brief flame illuminating dark chestnut eyes filled with some nameless emotion. No…that wasn’t right…it wasn’t nameless at all.
“Ichigo…”
His hair stood out like a sore thumb in the dark. That was Ichigo’s first thought as he glanced upwards to see the flax-colored locks blowing softly in the cool breeze. Kisuke wasn’t moving, gray eyes cast upwards towards the sky, not seeming to notice anything around him. Ichigo could only assume that his presence hadn’t been detected yet, silently thanking fate for the untied shoelace that had prompted him to pause for a moment. He never would have looked around otherwise.
Indecision nibbled at the back of his mind, wouldn’t allow his feet to move forward like he wanted them to. What was he going to say? It wasn’t as though he had some big speech prepared or anything. Ichigo had never been the type to make long-range plans, nearly always barreling into things without worrying about what the consequences of his actions would be. As such, he’d never given any thought to what he would say if this opportunity presented itself…which was, in retrospect, probably pretty stupid.
But maybe…just maybe…he wouldn’t need to say anything at all.
Without giving his inhibitions another thought he jumped upward onto the floodwall, finding himself surprised at how wide it was before slowly walking over to where Kisuke sat. The blonde still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t acknowledged him, and Ichigo briefly wondered if the snub was deliberate. The thought was quickly dismissed however as he realized that though Urahara did a lot of things, ignoring someone blatantly wasn’t really his style. Especially under these circumstances. Especially with Ichigo. The older man seemed simply to be lost in his own thoughts, which made sneaking up on him pretty damn easy.
It was when Kisuke put his pipe into his mouth that Ichigo finally saw his opening, swallowing down his heart and reaching into his back pocket. His voice came out softer than he’d intended it to, a mere wisp instead of the stable tone he’d desired. Why couldn’t this be easier? Where was the courage that he usually had, where was the stubborn resolution?
The concrete under his thighs was cold as he sat quietly next to Urahara, contemplating his next move while staring firmly down at the ground. He had a hundred things he wanted to say, feelings he desperately wanted to put into words…but nothing adequate to break the wall that had risen between them. With no conversation to ease the anxiety, Ichigo suddenly found his shoes to be quite fascinating, picking at the fabric of his pants became thought provoking, and anything seemed to be better than looking up and meeting Kisuke’s gaze. What was there to be so afraid of? It wasn’t as though Kisuke was going to start screaming at him, it wasn’t as though they were going to fight. Perhaps he was simply afraid of the other shoe dropping, of having to hear again that they couldn’t be together anymore. Yeah…that was probably it.
Rejection would be hard to swallow twice.
Ichigo lowered his hands from his lap, pushing his palms onto the cold concrete to ground his mind in the turbulent situation with something real beneath his fingertips. The world felt like it was spinning, his heart pounding frantically under his ribcage, mouth dry. He thought for a moment that he might even pass out until suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw Kisuke’s arm begin to inch gradually towards his own. What was he doing? Instantly Ichigo felt frozen in place, unable to even blink, afraid that any gesture would shatter the fragile moment and leave his heart falling in a million glittering pieces to the ground below. Urgently afraid. Afraid that somehow he’d ruin this…whatever this was…whatever was happening.
A subtle warmth enveloped his hand, their fingers entwining with the utmost delicacy as Ichigo finally let out the breath he’d been holding. So good. As oxygen was pulled once again into his lungs he allowed himself to look over at their joined hands, eyebrows coming together almost painfully as Kisuke’s thumb began trailing soothing circles on his skin. The contact, as small and seemingly innocent as it was, send agonizing waves of longing up Ichigo’s arm. He’d never thought he’d touch that soft, pale skin again; hadn’t thought it possible. Now that it was happening, the feeling seemed imaginary, something his lovesick mind made up to torment him.
But this was real…it had to be…
Summoning up his courage from the pit of his stomach, he forced his eyes to rise, to meet the green-gray gaze that he hadn’t realized was boring down onto him the entire time. His quiet gasp seemed to splinter the silence around them like cracks in deep standing ice, seeing in Kisuke’s eyes an intensity of feeling that Ichigo hadn’t thought possible from the older man. What was this raw emotion he saw reflected in that face? What was this fluttering that the look inspired in Ichigo’s belly? He felt almost nauseous. Almost sick. Ichigo wished that one of them would speak and break the dam of uneasiness that was holding back a river of unspoken words. He was drowning in it…
“What happened?” Ichigo whispered finally, feeling bile working its way up his throat the longer Kisuke remained silent. And yet he was determined to persevere, to walk the distance that lay between them. “Why?”
Why…
Phrased so simply, the question stung at Kisuke’s heart, shamed him in ways he hadn’t even imagined possible. Ichigo’s face was so sincere and genuine that it made him feel ridiculous for his behavior, made him needy to make amends for the month of pain he’d inflicted upon the redhead. The boy had broken him easily and without effort. Ichigo wasn’t hiding anything, wasn’t trying to mask his feelings behind some big show of chauvinism. If he, a seventeen year old, could struggle to understand his emotions this way…it stood to reason that Urahara must rise to do the same.
This simple realization made Kisuke smile, drawing the smaller body closer to his own, still not speaking since he felt no reason to do so. Why had he worried about being abandoned when Ichigo was anything but the type to leave the ones he loved behind? Hadn’t the younger man already proven that time and time again he would always rise to the challenge? Rukia hadn’t been abandoned. Orihime hadn’t been abandoned. Why would Ichigo suddenly forget about him because of something as mundane as a little physical distance? There was safety within Ichigo’s heart, a shelter in the cocoon of his arms that Kisuke could hide all his imperfections and worries inside.
He reached up to stroke his fingers along Ichigo’s cheekbone, drawing their faces close and taking a deep breath before carefully allowing their mouths to meet. The younger man smelled of fabric softener, soft and fresh, and the underlying scent of lemongrass that was uniquely Ichigo. Urahara had missed it desperately, the heat that built up every time their bodies were close, the way their lips slid across one another’s in their rush to taste each other. He’d missed Ichigo’s startled pleasure with each elusive touch upon his skin, the teenager’s amusing awkwardness and naiveté.
He’d missed Ichigo.
The kiss became more demanding, Ichigo’s arms coming up to clamp securely around his neck, tugging on the hair at the base of Kisuke’s scalp to get him to deepen the exchange. He complied happily, relishing the frantic little sounds that were working their way up the redhead’s throat to become lost between their open lips. They were kissing like they’d never get another chance to savor each other again, as if this were the end of the world and they only had a few minutes to make it last. And maybe that’s what Ichigo thought this was…the last kiss they’d ever share…
“It won’t be,” Urahara accidentally finished his thought out loud, the words whispered into Ichigo’s mouth. They caused the younger man to pull away fractionally, his expression questioning.
“Won’t be what?” Ichigo said, his voice a little breathy and quivering. Kisuke smiled, licking across the younger man’s bottom lip and soaking in the feeling of Ichigo’s finely trembling limbs against his own. It warmed him up, made that empty part of his heart less lonely. “Won’t be what, Kisuke?” Ichigo repeated, pulling far enough away that Urahara could tell that he wanted his question answered more than he wanted to be ravished at the moment.
“Our last kiss,” Urahara answered, cupping one hand against Ichigo’s cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb across the smooth skin. The teenager’s head cocked to the side slightly, as if not understanding. The bewilderment made Urahara chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. It was endearing, these times when Ichigo was so innocent, even though Kisuke knew it couldn’t last forever. Eventually most purity was destined to be worn away, like a rock beaten constantly by the sea, washed away with time. But Ichigo would still be Ichigo regardless. “That won’t be the last one.”
The seconds ticked by as the implications of what Kisuke had said sunk into Ichigo’s brain, the younger man seemingly putting two and two together, until finally the corners of his mouth began to pull upwards and he graced Urahara with a brilliant smile. In a flash Kisuke’s arms were full, a nose burrowing happily in the crook of his neck, soft orange locks tickling at his skin. Yes…this was how things should be. Carefully, so as to not startle Ichigo and send him flying off the concrete wall, Kisuke pulled the smaller frame onto his lap and sighed soundlessly. With the teenager’s long legs wrapped around his waist and their bodies practically molded together he found himself relaxed, pressing his cheek against Ichigo’s shoulder with a tender smile.
“I’m so sorry,” he closed his eyes, feeling Ichigo nod against his shoulder, a sure sign that he needed to continue. That was problematic however. Swallowing his pride had never been one of his strong suits, but for Ichigo he’d manage to muddle through it. He had a lot to lose by not doing so; more than he was willing to give up. “I just…I’m a little insecure,” he paused, not knowing what else to say. Kisuke’s smile faltered with his confusion, his hands fisting at the cloth of Ichigo’s back. He hated not knowing what to do. Hated the uncertainty plaguing his heart. It went against everything he thought he was. He was a veritable god of chaos and discord…why was this so hard?
“I know,” Ichigo turned his head, nosing Kisuke’s jaw a few times until they were face to face again. “I don’t understand why though…what happened? One minute we were good and the next…” the redhead trailed off, eyes pleading for some kind of answer. Kisuke couldn’t look into those eyes and lie anymore; he just couldn’t. What would be the point anyway? More misunderstandings? He didn’t think his heart could take anymore of those. All that was left to do was take a deep breath and hope he didn’t sound too ridiculous.
Ichigo had always sucked at waiting. From the time he was a little kid sitting in the doctor’s office twiddling his thumbs, he had always hated being forced to sit and do nothing. However, in this case, he found he didn’t mind it so much. Kisuke had spent the majority of the last century playing everything extremely close to his chest, not allowing himself to feel any more emotion than was absolutely necessary, effectively cutting himself off from the rest of the world. Over the course of their relationship, Ichigo had learned that this made being close to the older man very difficult, nearly impossible, but worth the struggle in the end. Because once each internal barrier was eliminated it never arose again, and with those destructions Ichigo found himself closer and closer to Urahara’s unmasked self. So though he absolutely despised waiting, he discovered that wherever Kisuke was concerned he had the patience of a saint.
“Kurosaki-kun,” Urahara began, taking a noticeably deep breath. “You’re almost grown.”
Ichigo cocked his head to the side, momentarily confused. This wasn’t exactly where he’d imagined the conversation would go. Glancing around helplessly, he nodded and waved his hand in a circular motion to prompt Kisuke to continue. Gods, if things were going this slowly now, he didn’t think they’d be finished with this conversation by the end of the night! “Yes, I am,” he agreed encouragingly, nodding again with a calm look on his face.
“You’re basically an adult now, and you have so many choices ahead of you,” Kisuke continued quietly, looking away so that their eyes could no longer meet. Normally Ichigo would have forced the blonde to look at him, made them retain eye contact, but he had a feeling that if he did that the older man’s confession would come to a screeching halt. Kisuke was looking more frazzled by the moment and Ichigo wanted to keep him as calm as possible.
Urahara’s words sped up, his voice becoming slowly louder as the revelations tumbled out into the air. It was as if he’d rallied all his remaining courage and wanted to get the speech over with as quickly as possible; like he was pulling a band-aide off in one fell swoop to avoid excess pain. Ichigo was wondering what could possibly be so terrible that it was this hard to admit when his thoughts were cut off by the blonde’s uncharacteristically emotional tone. Kisuke sounded close to tears, almost desperate, and before Ichigo knew what he was doing he was reaching out frantically to comfort the wayward blonde with his lips and fingertips. He would touch whatever skin he could reach, give any reassurance, say anything in the world to make that tone go away.
“I didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago when I saw that brochure in your bag…I didn’t want to remember that you’d be leaving me. You wouldn’t want me anymore. I thought it would be easier on both of us if I ended it now. I just…I just don’t want to be left behind Ichigo!”
The lips that had previously been brushing soothing kisses along Kisuke’s temple froze in place, Ichigo’s jaw dropping with sudden understanding, his eyes closing painfully. Leave him? Is that what Kisuke thought? It wasn’t an unreasonable fear; even Ichigo recognized how challenging their being together actually was. It wasn’t a far jump to imagine that once he went off to college, was away from home, that he’d find someone easier to be with. But…he wasn’t going to do that. Ichigo’s emotions were focused on one person, his heart decided and certain even though his mind came up with a hundred excuses as to why it could never work. His resolve was set; there was no way to break it.
But he’d never told Kisuke that, had never expressed it in any way that could be considered concrete…and therein laid the source of the problem. Urahara, as brilliant as he might have been, was hopelessly dense when it came to matters of the heart. While Ichigo was learning how to build his emotions from the ground up, Kisuke was experimenting with how to let his own emotions out of their self-imposed cage. So, in a way, they were both wandering around in the dark trying desperately to find one another. Clueless.
“Look at me,” he demanded, turning Kisuke’s face towards him. When the blonde refused to raise his gaze Ichigo smacked him smartly across the cheek, just hard enough to get Urahara’s attention, just enough to make it sting. “Damn it, I said look at me.”
Petulant gray finally met resolute brown and Ichigo smiled softly, squeezing his legs more tightly around the blonde‘s waist. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but Urahara gave him an almost pained expression in return, as though he was about to pass out. Not as planned. Not at all. “Is that what you thought? That I would go away to college and find some girl or something?”
Kisuke nodded slowly, his fingers digging into the fabric of Ichigo’s sleeves, turning his head to look away again. The vulnerability of that action spoke to Ichigo, his hands moving to cup Kisuke’s face and gently brush their cheeks together. Where skin met skin a gentle line of heat formed, making Ichigo sigh in appreciation of the simple comfort. Why hadn’t he just told Urahara the truth? Why had he waited and languished about it? It seemed stupid now.
“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear,” Ichigo murmured, swallowing hard against his rising fear. He could do this. He could do it. Right? Right.
Without giving it another thought he rushed forward, sealing their lips together and wrapping his arms tightly around the taller body in front of him. Say it, say it, sayit, sayit!!! His heart was screaming at him to just say it, voice the words that seemed to make and break the world, let the rest take care of itself. His mind was screaming something entirely different however, doubts and fears banging drums at him, making his hands shake with insecurity.
But Ichigo let the words come anyway. Slowly. Silently mouthed against Kisuke’s lips because he didn’t think he was capable of speech at the moment.
Now all that was left to do was wait and hope that he didn’t pass out before he got a response.
Urahara Kisuke was rarely shocked. In fact, he had always prided himself on being three steps ahead of everyone to avoid ever being shocked. So it was with no small amount of disbelief that he found himself absolutely stunned by the silent words murmured against his lips. There was no possible way. The young man couldn’t possibly know what he was saying. Inconceivable! And yet, as Ichigo pulled back, brown eyes wide and uncertain, Kisuke knew that there was no mistaking it. What he had suspected for months was now solidly confirmed.
Strange…it was different to suspect you were loved rather than know it for certain. Made it more real. Made you feel warmer, more alive suddenly.
“You deserve someone better than me,” he whispered almost sadly, running his knuckles across Ichigo’s high cheekbone. “But I‘m afraid you‘ve coerced me into loving you. Persuasive creature that you are.”
“Yeah, I’m good like that…though I kind of already knew,” the redhead replied with a satisfied smirk, leaning forward to nibble at Kisuke’s bottom lip. Instant shivers worked their way up Urahara’s spine, catching his breath in his throat and making his eyelids heavy. Gods he’d missed this. Ichigo’s innocent affections were sweeter than a thousand bars of chocolate…and not nearly as fattening.
Kisuke grinned, raising a pale eyebrow at the young man who was trailing soft kisses up his neck to latch onto his ear playfully. Scoffing in mock indignation, he pulled away with a poke to the redhead’s ribs. “Oh, did you? Why didn’t you enlighten me then?”
“I’ve discovered that you tend to learn these things on your own schedule. You‘re too dense to do it any other way,” Ichigo chuckled, leaning back with a pleased smile. Urahara stared, cocking his head from side to side before the laughter began bubbling up in his throat. It had been a long time since someone had accused him of being obtuse, but that didn’t mean that Ichigo was wrong. Emotional interaction was not his strong suit. It never had been.
“Brat,” Urahara growled, shaking his head before quickly shifting their bodies around. Soon Ichigo‘s back was pressed to the wide concrete wall, his long legs still wrapped securely around Kisuke’s hips, brown eyes amused and teasing. Enchanting. Without giving the teenager any time to resist, Urahara went on the attack, pulling the orange head back roughly and burying his face in the soft flesh of the young man’s neck. His tongue came out instantly, lapping greedily at the pulse fluttering under Ichigo’s skin, lavishing the redhead with a month’s worth of affection. Kisuke moved deliberately, relishing the gasps and stifled moans of the man beneath him, working his way to nearly every patch of exposed skin until Ichigo was a quivering mass beneath him.
It wasn’t until he pulled away, breathing slightly erratic, that he noticed how very tightly his hips were being squeezed…and how very aroused the pliant body below him actually was. However, when he looked down into Ichigo’s face expecting to see trepidation, he was surprised to see that the redhead’s expression held not even a trace of the fear and uncertainty that had been there before. In its place was only blazing tenderness, nervous excitement, anticipation, and above all that, desire. Ichigo wanted this. Urahara could feel the physical manifestation of that longing pressing against his belly, but it was the emotions written across the young man’s face that made his heart feel as though it had ceased to function. Kisuke had waited so long to see that look. Ichigo exuded an exhilarating mix of innocent hedonism and newly formed sensuality that would have made anyone fall at the redhead’s feet to beg for his attentions.
“You’re ready,” the words were a statement, not a question, accompanied by Kisuke’s tongue gliding excruciatingly slowly across Ichigo’s bottom lip. The body below him jerked slightly, mouth opening to allow a shy tongue to come out and meet Urahara’s own, a thin line of saliva trailing between them. Kisuke could feel Ichigo’s heart pounding against his chest, the young man’s long fingers trailing scandalously down his spine to run along inside his waistband, dipping into the small indentation just above Urahara‘s ass. Good gods! Ichigo was going to make him an inept with nothing but the tips of his fingers!
“Oh you’re more than ready. You’re dying for it. Aren’t you?” Kisuke sunk his teeth into the soft earlobe offered so delectably by the turn of Ichigo’s head, worrying the flesh with care. When the redhead didn’t respond to his question he bit down harder, earning a sharp gasp and a set of fingernails scraping up his back to sink into the hair at the base of his skull. “Aren’t you, Ichigo?”
After visibly composing himself, Ichigo nodded silently, letting his legs fall open around Urahara’s hips in an unspoken invitation. Settled there between the redhead’s thighs, Urahara found instant friction, grinding his teeth together slowly to maintain some level of self-control. Not here! They couldn’t do this here! Unfortunately his body wasn’t cooperating, sending signals that were clouding his mind to the point of delirium. Everything was reducing down to the feel of his feverish skin, his erection throbbing painfully between his legs, and the tiny line of sweat that was beading down his temple despite the chill in the air. Gods…and Ichigo was squirming, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together and infusing all his senses with unsurpassed heat. It was becoming hard to think. He had to get a hold of himself!
He took a deep breath to try and calm down, reaching to grasp the younger man’s chin between his suddenly trembling fingers before nibbling at the corner of his mouth. “That’s not good enough,” Urahara whispered huskily, pushing his hips downward against Ichigo’s arousal, making the redhead’s body arch towards him. “Answer me properly.”
“Yes!” Ichigo ground out, head thrashing to the side as his breath came out in what appeared to be a painful rush. He was beautiful like this, all flushed and needy. It was, Kisuke had to admit, quite alluring. Almost irresistible. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Kisuke teased, chuckling darkly into the skin of Ichigo’s throat. A low growl rumbled in Ichigo’s chest, making Urahara laugh more loudly. Even now, in such an emotionally charged moment, he still found it amusing to get a rise out of the younger man. It was part of the reason he had fallen so hard for the boy; the never-ending thrill of simply being together. Things just made more sense with Ichigo around.
Why did Urahara have to be such an insufferable asshole?! Ichigo’s eyes narrowed as thoughts of murder passed through his brain, glaring at the blonde who seemed to be about to die of laughter. Gods! As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was already at an obvious disadvantage by being a virgin, but the older man had to go the extra mile and make him feel absolutely ridiculous about said virginity as well. It wasn’t Ichigo’s fault! He didn’t know how to put what he wanted into words! He only knew that he wanted.
But the throbbing in his body was beginning to become maddening, threatening to shatter his brain and leave him nothing but an empty shell. Or at least that’s how it felt. He had to do something…anything…to alleviate the quasi-pain, to release the building pressure. His fingers seemed to have taken on a life of their own, weaving in and out of Kisuke’s soft hair, digging into his clothes to knead at the muscles beneath. Ichigo could barely breath, barely think, could barely form words. He was no longer Kurosaki Ichigo. Now he was nothing but the most basic physical demands, the most impulse driven desires. He had become his instincts.
“Just touch me,” he breathed, pulling Kisuke’s mouth up to his own to push their lips together frantically. “I’m going to die.”
“A bit melodramatic Kurosaki-kun, you‘re hardly at death‘s door,” Kisuke chuckled, pulling his lips away only enough to be teasing. Without speaking further the older man began slowly nibbling down his neck, leaving a burning trail of kisses in his wake. Each press of lips seemed to make Ichigo feel as though all the blood in his body was rushing to that spot, bubbling so close to the surface it was aching, and then rushing away to leave him feeling light-headed.
He’d had been about to respond (as wittily as his cloudy brain could manage) when Kisuke’s hair tickled at a spot near the base of his neck, making him giggle in a way that could only be considered school girlish at best. The giggle transformed into a laugh when the older man exploited the spot father, brushing his pale nose along the sensitive skin until Ichigo was practically begging him to stop. So very manly. But this…this was what he’d missed so badly. Moments like these. Why would he ever want anything else?
“Enough! Enough…enough,” he gasped, laughter dying down as he regained his breath. When oxygen was properly being pumped into his lungs again he found himself calmed down a bit, the throbbing desire ebbing away in the face of simple tenderness. Raising his chin up, he brushed his lips against Kisuke’s, smiling when the older man shivered in response. “Was that shiver for me or the cold?”
“I would say it was entirely you, but it is getting a little chilly,” Urahara grinned, letting a few of his breaths fog the air around them as if to prove his point. Slowly the blonde rose up on his forearms, looking down at Ichigo with a very serious expression, his gray eyes narrowed and seeking. “Forgive me?”
“Yeah,” Ichigo replied casually, accepting the older man’s hand to help him stand up on still slightly wobbly legs and jump back down to the street below. “Though there is one thing you can do to make it up to me.”
“Name it.”
“Take a shower Kisuke…haven’t you bathed in the past month?!”
Loves!!
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
Cherry!
Title: Semi-Sweet Morsel
Rating: Hard R to be sure.
Pairing: Uraichi
Warnings: Not a whole lot. Angst, fluff, a bit of limey goodness. Nothing explicit.
Summary: Despite the feeling being so strong, it still needs to be voiced.
Author's Notes: This chapter took me a while to get out and for that i'm very sorry! I hope that an 8200 word chapter makes up for it!! *smile*
“I think it would be better if you didn‘t see me anymore Kurosaki-san.”
Those words rang over and over in Ichigo’s head, fingers holding his pillow in a white-knuckled grip as he forced back the tears that he refused to let fall. It had been a month since Kisuke had made that fateful statement, and Ichigo still wasn’t able to comprehend it. It had caught him unprepared, seemingly out of the blue, completely in left field. What was going on? No matter how many times he asked himself that question, he never came up with any answers…
“Why are you doing this Kisuke?” he whispered into his mattress, biting on his bottom lip to distract himself momentarily. Though the words repeated themselves in an endless loop, it was the older man’s eyes that seemed burned into his memory, haunting him when he tried to sleep and interrupting his thoughts during the day. Those gray eyes had been so hurt, so apologetic, so forlorn…so contrary to everything the blonde had been saying at the time. Why did it have to be like this? It didn’t make sense!
“I’m two hundred years old and you‘re seventeen. You need to be with someone your own age…”
He rolled over in his bed, staring at the closet that used to house Rukia (thank the gods she wasn‘t here to see his sorry state), and sighed for what had to be the hundredth time. There was pale moonlight shining across the floor, illuminating the room and sending a band of light onto the nightstand near the bed. The beam glittered briefly on a dark black picture frame, drawing Ichigo’s attention before he reached out to take it in his fingers and bring the photo close to his face.
It wasn’t a very old photograph, taken only a few months before at one of the local festivals in town. Kisuke was wearing a long black kimono; forest green vines woven in delicate metallic thread climbing over his shoulders and down his back and arms. The robe had been tied with a long green sash, his hair uncovered and hanging loose over his eyes. He was looking over his shoulder at the photographer (that had been Ichigo) with his fan in one hand and a skewer of tokayaki in the other, a brilliant smile on his face. It had been one of those days that felt perfect, as though it could go on forever.
Which couldn’t be any further from how Ichigo was feeling right now…
“Please don’t try to persuade me otherwise…this is for the best…”
“This can’t be for the best,” Ichigo said miserably, running the pad of his thumb over the glass. “How can being pushed away from the person I love be for the best?”
Though he tried to make sense of it, none of the puzzle pieces were fitting together. Too many things stood out in his mind, too many feelings remained raw, the situation not revealing itself fully. One day Kisuke had been fine, joking with him like normal…the next the blonde had pulled him aside and ended their relationship in one fell swoop. The action had left Ichigo inconsolable, floundering for some kind of reason behind the separation. Something had to have happened in between, something to make the older man act the way he had...but what? Ichigo couldn’t help but wonder if the fault lay with himself, knowing how weak it was to feel that way but not really caring. Was it something he‘d done? Had he said something wrong? The answers didn’t seem to be forthcoming since he couldn’t figure it out himself and Urahara was refusing to meet with him.
He’d even told Tessai and the kids not to let Ichigo into the shop…
Slowly he let the picture fall to the side near his pillow, finding himself emotionally unable to look at it anymore without succumbing to the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he called or how often he went by the shop; Kisuke simply wouldn‘t talk to him. It was pathetic, to be pining over the man like some wench from a sappy romance novel, but he found himself unable to feel otherwise. He’d never been in love before, and so had never had to deal with the pains of a broken heart.
In the end he could only conclude that maybe if he’d told Kisuke the truth…told the older man how he really felt…that maybe things wouldn’t be like this…
But now he’d never know.
“What?! Why are you saying this Kisuke?”
Across town Urahara was also laying in his bed, trying his best to ignore the screaming guilt that rushed through him every time the scene replayed in his head. There had been no easy way to do it, no simple solution, and so he’d simply plowed in headfirst without stopping to reason. He’d convinced himself that there had been no other option, because if he’d honestly paused to reconsider he probably would have lost the nerve to do it.
And despite all words to the contrary…he wanted desperately to be with Ichigo.
He stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully, listening to the sound of someone walking silently past his room without stopping to say hello as they normally would. It had been very quiet in the Shoten over the past month, each day growing more and more tense as everyone’s concern for his well-being rose. He knew they all wanted to say something to him. It was only natural. He wasn’t talking, he wasn’t working, he was barely eating, he almost never came out of his bedroom…he was a convoluted mess and he damn well knew it. But it was unavoidable.
“I miss Ichigo,” he admitted softly to himself, bottom lip jutting out pitifully before he covered his face with an arm. All he wanted to do at the moment was get on the phone and tell Ichigo that he’d changed his mind, that he was sorry. All he wanted to say was that he was coming over to the redhead’s house right now and they were going to talk until the sun rose and kiss until their lips were swollen. But…he wasn’t going to do that. Nope. Kisuke was going to lay right there on his futon and force himself to stay still, to not give in to his baser impulses, to push down the one brilliant emotion that could cause him to change his mind.
“I…I thought…don’t you care about me?”
And he did care…that was the problem. He cared so much that it seemed like every breath he took was becoming less and less his own, as though his heart was not in his possession anymore. It had gone beyond simple caring a long time ago, morphing into something deep and long lasting, something he was terrified to put a label on even though he already knew what it was. Love. It was an entirely conventional feeling, and yet had the ability to make one feel as though they were the first person alive to ever experience its joys. Quite the enigma.
“Dammit,” he cursed, turning over and shoving his face into the pillow. This wouldn’t be happening if he hadn’t seen that college brochure poking out of Ichigo’s bag; hadn’t had the realization that came with its implications. That treacherous pamphlet was the cause of everything! He felt his fingers clutch at the fabric under his face, eyes closed tight against the rush of pain he felt every time he thought about Ichigo going away…leaving…
Leaving him behind…
He’d tried to convince himself that he was doing this for Ichigo’s own good, that it was for the best that he find himself someone more suitable to be with. Ichigo deserved nothing but the best out of his life. A beautiful wife, a good career, a comfortable existence, children if he wanted them. Kisuke couldn’t offer him any of those things. No matter how you looked at it, the two of them being together was more of a hindrance to the redhead that a benefit, something he’d probably be better off without. That’s what Urahara had told himself repeatedly throughout the past month. Again and again.
But truthfully? His intentions weren’t nearly so selfless. From the moment he had seen that leaflet he had realized that…Ichigo was growing up. Ichigo was going to go away to college. Ichigo was going to…forget all about him. The sting of those thoughts had ripped at Kisuke’s heart like a serrated blade, tearing at the fragile emotion that he felt for the younger man. Of course he should have known better than to let himself get too attached, but love had snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking and he had fallen hard.
And so he had decided to end it now, rather than wait all those years for the inevitable to happen. Sure, Ichigo was upset now, but in the long run he’d thank Urahara for his foresight in saving them both some needless anguish. The only problem? Neither of them wanted it to be over. The look on pure sorrow on Ichigo’s face when Urahara had told him they shouldn’t be together anymore had stolen the breath from his body, made his heart sink so far into his stomach he’d thought never to recover it. Was the idea of losing him really that awful to Ichigo? Was he worth so much to the younger man?
He couldn’t let himself believe that…it would make this entire month pointless. Not that it wasn’t already.
But it was no use. No matter how many times he told himself that Ichigo couldn’t possibly be in love with him, that the redhead was just infatuated, that this wasn’t real and could never last…it didn’t erase the memory of Ichigo looking back over his shoulder as he walked away from the Shoten. The emotion, profound and painful, had been there plain as day.
“Ichigo…”
“Kisuke…”
His bed was growing more uncomfortable by the moment, the plain bedroom walls quickly closing in around him, suffocating him. He had to get out of here! Now! So with a shaky breath Ichigo sat up, swinging his feet to the floor and shivering when the cold from the wood worked its way up his legs to settle in the base of his spine. Spring may have been half over, but that didn’t mean that the nights were always warm yet…there was still a chill in the air, enough to make you pause. Enough to remind you that winter had only just loosened its deathly grip upon the countryside.
It didn’t take him long to get dressed, pulling on his coat before going downstairs, careful not to let his presence wake the rest of his slumbering family. He had almost made it to the front door when he felt movement behind him, stopping with his hand on the doorknob but not turning around to see who it was. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t feel it; he didn’t need to be told.
“Are you going out?” Isshin asked quietly, his tone thoughtful. It was the tone he used whenever he had something more serious to say, the only one that Ichigo tended to listen to. The silence stretched thin and strained between them before he spoke again. “Everything is going to be all right Ichigo…you just have to be patient.”
All right? The words made Ichigo’s heart drop a little, widening his eyes as tears once more hovered just beyond the border of his carefully constructed self-control. How was everything going to be all right? Sure, he might get over it eventually, but it would never just be all right. Things like that didn’t just suddenly become “all right”. What the hell was the matter with his old man anyway? Why, after a month of Ichigo being this way, had goat-face decided now was a good time to play “father of the year“?
“Was everything ‘all right’ when mom died?” Ichigo hissed angrily, his voice wavering. “Did everything just suddenly become okay?”
Ichigo didn’t give his father time to respond, stepping outside before they could get into some kind of retarded discussion about lost love and “other fish in the sea”. He didn’t give a shit about any of that right now. Couldn’t he just have a broken heart in peace? Other people got sad and wallowed in their misery for a while…couldn’t he do the same? Or was he not allowed to do something so contemptible? He felt weak, and by the gods he was going to act that way for a little while, even if it was pathetic.
He stared down at his sneakered feet as he walked silently through the night, wondering vaguely where he was going. It wasn’t as though he had anywhere he desperately needed to be…he was pretty much aimless. Ichigo’s only hope was that wherever his feet took him tonight was somewhere that his demons wouldn‘t follow. It was unlikely however since they seemed to live everywhere. Pity. His frayed emotions could have used the break.
Looking back up, he watched his breath fog the air in soft puffs, dissipating into the night like half-seen apparitions. The chill made him pull the furry collar of his bomber jacket closer to his body, smiling nostalgically as he detected a hint of cologne that didn‘t belong to him. Without thinking he pushed his nose further into the fur, remembering the last time he’d worn the jacket.
“Could you stomach being with me forever? I’m not so easy to deal with,” Kisuke murmured, pushing his face into Ichigo’s shoulder. The warmth was welcome, chasing away the cold of the late afternoon; waves of heat pulsing pleasantly down his arm.
“You‘re not that bad…I think I could handle it,” Ichigo replied softly, practically purring (though managing to avoid it) when the blonde brushed his face along the fur of his coat, working that scratchy cheek up his neck until soft kisses were being rained behind his ear. “Unless you have plans to get rid of me.”
“Never Ichigo,” the older man laughed softly between caresses. “I’m afraid my affections are fixed upon you. You’re done for.”
“Liar,” Ichigo wrenched his nose away from the fabric and angrily kicked a rock that was in his path, sending it skittering away down a steep hill. His memories mocked him, drew him endlessly into their loop, besieging him with happier times. How was he supposed move on when all he could think about was how much he had lost? Everywhere he looked the town seemed to harbor some memory, trigger some emotion in his chest that sent him spiraling out of control all over again.
He was walking by yet another set of trashcans, a startled tabby cat jumping out from behind them to quickly run away, when he realized exactly where he had wound up. Treacherous feet. Whether due to habit or fate’s sick sense of humor, he had found himself standing directly in front of the Shoten, face falling instantly as he surveyed the dark windows and locked doors. The gods must have been laughing at him right now, enjoying his misery as they made merriment at his heart’s expense.
“I’m not doing this,” he said rigidly, turning on his heel to walk away. He was stopped however by a tiny voice coughing behind him, his eyebrows coming together in confusion and surprise. He hadn’t seen anyone there a moment ago, had thought himself completely alone…but then again he hadn’t really been looking either. Being angst-ridden and emo will make you unobservant.
“What are you doing out of bed Ururu,” he admonished gently, turning to find her standing a few feet away in a pair of white pajamas with little cupcakes on them. Ichigo knew from personal experience that she also had slippers and a little sleeping cap to match. The pinnacle of cute. “You shouldn’t be up…and you shouldn’t be talking to me.”
“Kisuke-san isn’t here,” she said abruptly, obviously choosing to ignore his statements all together. Though her voice was mild, her eyes were not. Behind that sweet exterior was a will just as strong as his own, a deep desire to help those she cared for that was as strong as any shinigami‘s. There was a powerful woman lurking just below the surface of that childish face. “He went for a walk…I don’t know where he was going.”
She looked away shyly, nibbling at her bottom lip before continuing so softly that Ichigo had to strain to hear her. “If you hurry you might catch him. I think he‘d like to be caught.”
That was all Ichigo needed to hear, yelling his thanks to Ururu as he ran back around the corner he’d come from. Maybe the gods were on his side after all…
“Kisuke…”
The gods delighted in tormenting him, of that Kisuke was entirely sure. First they saw fit to bless him with the affections of such a perfect young man, only to plague him with endless doubt and insecurity just as he was finally realizing how much that young man truly meant to him. It seemed cruel, but he figured he probably deserved it. How many lives had he inadvertently ruined throughout the years? How many times had he hurt people through simple boredom…through carelessness?
Yes, he probably deserved this…
So why, if this whole situation was entirely righteous, did he find himself walking to Ichigo's house anyway? He hadn't started the walk with those intentions; he'd merely needed a little fresh air to clear his head. But somehow he found his feet wearing the same established path that they had walked a hundred times before. Maybe it was his unending craving to see the redhead. Maybe it was masochism. Maybe it was fate. But whatever the cause; it was guiding him, leading him down the streets to Ichigo's window. Just a quick glance…just for a moment.
His geta sandals clacked with a noisy finality against the sidewalk as he paused, finally finding himself outside the Kurosaki residence. Ichigo's room was dark, a faint beam of moonlight shining through his open window, the breeze blowing the curtains within. Urahara’s gaze narrowed as he concentrated, trying to focus on the younger man's reiatsu only to find it absent from the area. Where was Ichigo? He should have been there. He was always there on Wednesday nights. Always.
His heart clenched painfully, imagining all the possible scenarios. What if Ichigo was hurt somewhere in town? What if he needed Kisuke’s help? It seemed unlikely, since he hadn’t felt any hollows or strange energy nearby, but that didn’t stop his mind from throwing everything plus the kitchen sink at him. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Ichigo that he could have prevented, would never be able to move past it. His heart wasn’t that strong. What was he going to do?
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, to relax the ripples that were cascading through his emotions. It was probably something as simple as Ichigo going for a walk…right? Right. It was silly to get all worked up over a little late night excursion, though he jumped up into the open window anyway just to make sure the younger man wasn’t just masking his reiatsu remarkably well. Not that Ichigo was especially good at that, but he’d surprised Urahara before so it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.
“Ichigo?” Kisuke whispered softly, glancing around the empty bedroom. Not there. He gradually let out a breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding, climbing through the window frame to settle on the rumpled comforter for a moment. Upon closer inspection he found that the sheets were still warm, the indentation of Ichigo‘s spiky head still visible upon the pillow as Kisuke ran his fingertips along its fluffy surface. He hadn’t been gone long, that much was certain. Now the only question remaining was why the younger man had left in the first place…
Kisuke’s eyes wandered over the bed, settling on a picture frame resting beside the pillow. He knew that photo. He remembered that smile. Before he could stop himself he was reaching out, lifting the picture close to his face to scrutinize it. That day had been perfect, from the weather to the setting to the company. Everything had been so good. Why had he willingly given all that up? Were his groundless fears really enough to push away the first person he’d come to love in centuries? Why was he doing this? Shouldn’t he at least allow Ichigo the opportunity to prove him wrong?
He wanted to be wrong.
Another deep breath, another set of unanswered questions. He exited the room shortly after that, making certain to place the photo exactly back where it had been before reluctantly starting the journey back to the shop. It was slow going though, since he really didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to lay on his bed and brood, didn’t want to face all the unanswered questions plaguing his mind. Basically he just didn’t want to think…period. But the night was still young, and the stars were rather lovely, twinkling gently in a blanket of navy blue. It was a perfect evening to sit and stare off into space, even if his mind never really turned off.
So that was how he found himself sitting idly on a tall concrete floodwall near the river, gazing out over the city with a tumultuous heart. It had been a long time since he’d found himself so absolutely unable to sort out his thoughts. So long in fact that the sensation was almost indescribably terrifying…horrifying in its disorder. The unexpected swell of emotion sent a shiver up his spine as he reached for his kiseru, placing it between slightly numb lips before looking for his matches. No good. He hadn’t brought them. Naturally.
“Dammit,” he cursed, rolling his eyes. Couldn’t he at least have this one small comfort?
“Here…let me,” came a soft voice from beside him, Kisuke’s head whipping around as a silver lighter rose up towards his face, the brief flame illuminating dark chestnut eyes filled with some nameless emotion. No…that wasn’t right…it wasn’t nameless at all.
“Ichigo…”
His hair stood out like a sore thumb in the dark. That was Ichigo’s first thought as he glanced upwards to see the flax-colored locks blowing softly in the cool breeze. Kisuke wasn’t moving, gray eyes cast upwards towards the sky, not seeming to notice anything around him. Ichigo could only assume that his presence hadn’t been detected yet, silently thanking fate for the untied shoelace that had prompted him to pause for a moment. He never would have looked around otherwise.
Indecision nibbled at the back of his mind, wouldn’t allow his feet to move forward like he wanted them to. What was he going to say? It wasn’t as though he had some big speech prepared or anything. Ichigo had never been the type to make long-range plans, nearly always barreling into things without worrying about what the consequences of his actions would be. As such, he’d never given any thought to what he would say if this opportunity presented itself…which was, in retrospect, probably pretty stupid.
But maybe…just maybe…he wouldn’t need to say anything at all.
Without giving his inhibitions another thought he jumped upward onto the floodwall, finding himself surprised at how wide it was before slowly walking over to where Kisuke sat. The blonde still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t acknowledged him, and Ichigo briefly wondered if the snub was deliberate. The thought was quickly dismissed however as he realized that though Urahara did a lot of things, ignoring someone blatantly wasn’t really his style. Especially under these circumstances. Especially with Ichigo. The older man seemed simply to be lost in his own thoughts, which made sneaking up on him pretty damn easy.
It was when Kisuke put his pipe into his mouth that Ichigo finally saw his opening, swallowing down his heart and reaching into his back pocket. His voice came out softer than he’d intended it to, a mere wisp instead of the stable tone he’d desired. Why couldn’t this be easier? Where was the courage that he usually had, where was the stubborn resolution?
The concrete under his thighs was cold as he sat quietly next to Urahara, contemplating his next move while staring firmly down at the ground. He had a hundred things he wanted to say, feelings he desperately wanted to put into words…but nothing adequate to break the wall that had risen between them. With no conversation to ease the anxiety, Ichigo suddenly found his shoes to be quite fascinating, picking at the fabric of his pants became thought provoking, and anything seemed to be better than looking up and meeting Kisuke’s gaze. What was there to be so afraid of? It wasn’t as though Kisuke was going to start screaming at him, it wasn’t as though they were going to fight. Perhaps he was simply afraid of the other shoe dropping, of having to hear again that they couldn’t be together anymore. Yeah…that was probably it.
Rejection would be hard to swallow twice.
Ichigo lowered his hands from his lap, pushing his palms onto the cold concrete to ground his mind in the turbulent situation with something real beneath his fingertips. The world felt like it was spinning, his heart pounding frantically under his ribcage, mouth dry. He thought for a moment that he might even pass out until suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw Kisuke’s arm begin to inch gradually towards his own. What was he doing? Instantly Ichigo felt frozen in place, unable to even blink, afraid that any gesture would shatter the fragile moment and leave his heart falling in a million glittering pieces to the ground below. Urgently afraid. Afraid that somehow he’d ruin this…whatever this was…whatever was happening.
A subtle warmth enveloped his hand, their fingers entwining with the utmost delicacy as Ichigo finally let out the breath he’d been holding. So good. As oxygen was pulled once again into his lungs he allowed himself to look over at their joined hands, eyebrows coming together almost painfully as Kisuke’s thumb began trailing soothing circles on his skin. The contact, as small and seemingly innocent as it was, send agonizing waves of longing up Ichigo’s arm. He’d never thought he’d touch that soft, pale skin again; hadn’t thought it possible. Now that it was happening, the feeling seemed imaginary, something his lovesick mind made up to torment him.
But this was real…it had to be…
Summoning up his courage from the pit of his stomach, he forced his eyes to rise, to meet the green-gray gaze that he hadn’t realized was boring down onto him the entire time. His quiet gasp seemed to splinter the silence around them like cracks in deep standing ice, seeing in Kisuke’s eyes an intensity of feeling that Ichigo hadn’t thought possible from the older man. What was this raw emotion he saw reflected in that face? What was this fluttering that the look inspired in Ichigo’s belly? He felt almost nauseous. Almost sick. Ichigo wished that one of them would speak and break the dam of uneasiness that was holding back a river of unspoken words. He was drowning in it…
“What happened?” Ichigo whispered finally, feeling bile working its way up his throat the longer Kisuke remained silent. And yet he was determined to persevere, to walk the distance that lay between them. “Why?”
Why…
Phrased so simply, the question stung at Kisuke’s heart, shamed him in ways he hadn’t even imagined possible. Ichigo’s face was so sincere and genuine that it made him feel ridiculous for his behavior, made him needy to make amends for the month of pain he’d inflicted upon the redhead. The boy had broken him easily and without effort. Ichigo wasn’t hiding anything, wasn’t trying to mask his feelings behind some big show of chauvinism. If he, a seventeen year old, could struggle to understand his emotions this way…it stood to reason that Urahara must rise to do the same.
This simple realization made Kisuke smile, drawing the smaller body closer to his own, still not speaking since he felt no reason to do so. Why had he worried about being abandoned when Ichigo was anything but the type to leave the ones he loved behind? Hadn’t the younger man already proven that time and time again he would always rise to the challenge? Rukia hadn’t been abandoned. Orihime hadn’t been abandoned. Why would Ichigo suddenly forget about him because of something as mundane as a little physical distance? There was safety within Ichigo’s heart, a shelter in the cocoon of his arms that Kisuke could hide all his imperfections and worries inside.
He reached up to stroke his fingers along Ichigo’s cheekbone, drawing their faces close and taking a deep breath before carefully allowing their mouths to meet. The younger man smelled of fabric softener, soft and fresh, and the underlying scent of lemongrass that was uniquely Ichigo. Urahara had missed it desperately, the heat that built up every time their bodies were close, the way their lips slid across one another’s in their rush to taste each other. He’d missed Ichigo’s startled pleasure with each elusive touch upon his skin, the teenager’s amusing awkwardness and naiveté.
He’d missed Ichigo.
The kiss became more demanding, Ichigo’s arms coming up to clamp securely around his neck, tugging on the hair at the base of Kisuke’s scalp to get him to deepen the exchange. He complied happily, relishing the frantic little sounds that were working their way up the redhead’s throat to become lost between their open lips. They were kissing like they’d never get another chance to savor each other again, as if this were the end of the world and they only had a few minutes to make it last. And maybe that’s what Ichigo thought this was…the last kiss they’d ever share…
“It won’t be,” Urahara accidentally finished his thought out loud, the words whispered into Ichigo’s mouth. They caused the younger man to pull away fractionally, his expression questioning.
“Won’t be what?” Ichigo said, his voice a little breathy and quivering. Kisuke smiled, licking across the younger man’s bottom lip and soaking in the feeling of Ichigo’s finely trembling limbs against his own. It warmed him up, made that empty part of his heart less lonely. “Won’t be what, Kisuke?” Ichigo repeated, pulling far enough away that Urahara could tell that he wanted his question answered more than he wanted to be ravished at the moment.
“Our last kiss,” Urahara answered, cupping one hand against Ichigo’s cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb across the smooth skin. The teenager’s head cocked to the side slightly, as if not understanding. The bewilderment made Urahara chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. It was endearing, these times when Ichigo was so innocent, even though Kisuke knew it couldn’t last forever. Eventually most purity was destined to be worn away, like a rock beaten constantly by the sea, washed away with time. But Ichigo would still be Ichigo regardless. “That won’t be the last one.”
The seconds ticked by as the implications of what Kisuke had said sunk into Ichigo’s brain, the younger man seemingly putting two and two together, until finally the corners of his mouth began to pull upwards and he graced Urahara with a brilliant smile. In a flash Kisuke’s arms were full, a nose burrowing happily in the crook of his neck, soft orange locks tickling at his skin. Yes…this was how things should be. Carefully, so as to not startle Ichigo and send him flying off the concrete wall, Kisuke pulled the smaller frame onto his lap and sighed soundlessly. With the teenager’s long legs wrapped around his waist and their bodies practically molded together he found himself relaxed, pressing his cheek against Ichigo’s shoulder with a tender smile.
“I’m so sorry,” he closed his eyes, feeling Ichigo nod against his shoulder, a sure sign that he needed to continue. That was problematic however. Swallowing his pride had never been one of his strong suits, but for Ichigo he’d manage to muddle through it. He had a lot to lose by not doing so; more than he was willing to give up. “I just…I’m a little insecure,” he paused, not knowing what else to say. Kisuke’s smile faltered with his confusion, his hands fisting at the cloth of Ichigo’s back. He hated not knowing what to do. Hated the uncertainty plaguing his heart. It went against everything he thought he was. He was a veritable god of chaos and discord…why was this so hard?
“I know,” Ichigo turned his head, nosing Kisuke’s jaw a few times until they were face to face again. “I don’t understand why though…what happened? One minute we were good and the next…” the redhead trailed off, eyes pleading for some kind of answer. Kisuke couldn’t look into those eyes and lie anymore; he just couldn’t. What would be the point anyway? More misunderstandings? He didn’t think his heart could take anymore of those. All that was left to do was take a deep breath and hope he didn’t sound too ridiculous.
Ichigo had always sucked at waiting. From the time he was a little kid sitting in the doctor’s office twiddling his thumbs, he had always hated being forced to sit and do nothing. However, in this case, he found he didn’t mind it so much. Kisuke had spent the majority of the last century playing everything extremely close to his chest, not allowing himself to feel any more emotion than was absolutely necessary, effectively cutting himself off from the rest of the world. Over the course of their relationship, Ichigo had learned that this made being close to the older man very difficult, nearly impossible, but worth the struggle in the end. Because once each internal barrier was eliminated it never arose again, and with those destructions Ichigo found himself closer and closer to Urahara’s unmasked self. So though he absolutely despised waiting, he discovered that wherever Kisuke was concerned he had the patience of a saint.
“Kurosaki-kun,” Urahara began, taking a noticeably deep breath. “You’re almost grown.”
Ichigo cocked his head to the side, momentarily confused. This wasn’t exactly where he’d imagined the conversation would go. Glancing around helplessly, he nodded and waved his hand in a circular motion to prompt Kisuke to continue. Gods, if things were going this slowly now, he didn’t think they’d be finished with this conversation by the end of the night! “Yes, I am,” he agreed encouragingly, nodding again with a calm look on his face.
“You’re basically an adult now, and you have so many choices ahead of you,” Kisuke continued quietly, looking away so that their eyes could no longer meet. Normally Ichigo would have forced the blonde to look at him, made them retain eye contact, but he had a feeling that if he did that the older man’s confession would come to a screeching halt. Kisuke was looking more frazzled by the moment and Ichigo wanted to keep him as calm as possible.
Urahara’s words sped up, his voice becoming slowly louder as the revelations tumbled out into the air. It was as if he’d rallied all his remaining courage and wanted to get the speech over with as quickly as possible; like he was pulling a band-aide off in one fell swoop to avoid excess pain. Ichigo was wondering what could possibly be so terrible that it was this hard to admit when his thoughts were cut off by the blonde’s uncharacteristically emotional tone. Kisuke sounded close to tears, almost desperate, and before Ichigo knew what he was doing he was reaching out frantically to comfort the wayward blonde with his lips and fingertips. He would touch whatever skin he could reach, give any reassurance, say anything in the world to make that tone go away.
“I didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago when I saw that brochure in your bag…I didn’t want to remember that you’d be leaving me. You wouldn’t want me anymore. I thought it would be easier on both of us if I ended it now. I just…I just don’t want to be left behind Ichigo!”
The lips that had previously been brushing soothing kisses along Kisuke’s temple froze in place, Ichigo’s jaw dropping with sudden understanding, his eyes closing painfully. Leave him? Is that what Kisuke thought? It wasn’t an unreasonable fear; even Ichigo recognized how challenging their being together actually was. It wasn’t a far jump to imagine that once he went off to college, was away from home, that he’d find someone easier to be with. But…he wasn’t going to do that. Ichigo’s emotions were focused on one person, his heart decided and certain even though his mind came up with a hundred excuses as to why it could never work. His resolve was set; there was no way to break it.
But he’d never told Kisuke that, had never expressed it in any way that could be considered concrete…and therein laid the source of the problem. Urahara, as brilliant as he might have been, was hopelessly dense when it came to matters of the heart. While Ichigo was learning how to build his emotions from the ground up, Kisuke was experimenting with how to let his own emotions out of their self-imposed cage. So, in a way, they were both wandering around in the dark trying desperately to find one another. Clueless.
“Look at me,” he demanded, turning Kisuke’s face towards him. When the blonde refused to raise his gaze Ichigo smacked him smartly across the cheek, just hard enough to get Urahara’s attention, just enough to make it sting. “Damn it, I said look at me.”
Petulant gray finally met resolute brown and Ichigo smiled softly, squeezing his legs more tightly around the blonde‘s waist. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but Urahara gave him an almost pained expression in return, as though he was about to pass out. Not as planned. Not at all. “Is that what you thought? That I would go away to college and find some girl or something?”
Kisuke nodded slowly, his fingers digging into the fabric of Ichigo’s sleeves, turning his head to look away again. The vulnerability of that action spoke to Ichigo, his hands moving to cup Kisuke’s face and gently brush their cheeks together. Where skin met skin a gentle line of heat formed, making Ichigo sigh in appreciation of the simple comfort. Why hadn’t he just told Urahara the truth? Why had he waited and languished about it? It seemed stupid now.
“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear,” Ichigo murmured, swallowing hard against his rising fear. He could do this. He could do it. Right? Right.
Without giving it another thought he rushed forward, sealing their lips together and wrapping his arms tightly around the taller body in front of him. Say it, say it, sayit, sayit!!! His heart was screaming at him to just say it, voice the words that seemed to make and break the world, let the rest take care of itself. His mind was screaming something entirely different however, doubts and fears banging drums at him, making his hands shake with insecurity.
But Ichigo let the words come anyway. Slowly. Silently mouthed against Kisuke’s lips because he didn’t think he was capable of speech at the moment.
Now all that was left to do was wait and hope that he didn’t pass out before he got a response.
Urahara Kisuke was rarely shocked. In fact, he had always prided himself on being three steps ahead of everyone to avoid ever being shocked. So it was with no small amount of disbelief that he found himself absolutely stunned by the silent words murmured against his lips. There was no possible way. The young man couldn’t possibly know what he was saying. Inconceivable! And yet, as Ichigo pulled back, brown eyes wide and uncertain, Kisuke knew that there was no mistaking it. What he had suspected for months was now solidly confirmed.
Strange…it was different to suspect you were loved rather than know it for certain. Made it more real. Made you feel warmer, more alive suddenly.
“You deserve someone better than me,” he whispered almost sadly, running his knuckles across Ichigo’s high cheekbone. “But I‘m afraid you‘ve coerced me into loving you. Persuasive creature that you are.”
“Yeah, I’m good like that…though I kind of already knew,” the redhead replied with a satisfied smirk, leaning forward to nibble at Kisuke’s bottom lip. Instant shivers worked their way up Urahara’s spine, catching his breath in his throat and making his eyelids heavy. Gods he’d missed this. Ichigo’s innocent affections were sweeter than a thousand bars of chocolate…and not nearly as fattening.
Kisuke grinned, raising a pale eyebrow at the young man who was trailing soft kisses up his neck to latch onto his ear playfully. Scoffing in mock indignation, he pulled away with a poke to the redhead’s ribs. “Oh, did you? Why didn’t you enlighten me then?”
“I’ve discovered that you tend to learn these things on your own schedule. You‘re too dense to do it any other way,” Ichigo chuckled, leaning back with a pleased smile. Urahara stared, cocking his head from side to side before the laughter began bubbling up in his throat. It had been a long time since someone had accused him of being obtuse, but that didn’t mean that Ichigo was wrong. Emotional interaction was not his strong suit. It never had been.
“Brat,” Urahara growled, shaking his head before quickly shifting their bodies around. Soon Ichigo‘s back was pressed to the wide concrete wall, his long legs still wrapped securely around Kisuke’s hips, brown eyes amused and teasing. Enchanting. Without giving the teenager any time to resist, Urahara went on the attack, pulling the orange head back roughly and burying his face in the soft flesh of the young man’s neck. His tongue came out instantly, lapping greedily at the pulse fluttering under Ichigo’s skin, lavishing the redhead with a month’s worth of affection. Kisuke moved deliberately, relishing the gasps and stifled moans of the man beneath him, working his way to nearly every patch of exposed skin until Ichigo was a quivering mass beneath him.
It wasn’t until he pulled away, breathing slightly erratic, that he noticed how very tightly his hips were being squeezed…and how very aroused the pliant body below him actually was. However, when he looked down into Ichigo’s face expecting to see trepidation, he was surprised to see that the redhead’s expression held not even a trace of the fear and uncertainty that had been there before. In its place was only blazing tenderness, nervous excitement, anticipation, and above all that, desire. Ichigo wanted this. Urahara could feel the physical manifestation of that longing pressing against his belly, but it was the emotions written across the young man’s face that made his heart feel as though it had ceased to function. Kisuke had waited so long to see that look. Ichigo exuded an exhilarating mix of innocent hedonism and newly formed sensuality that would have made anyone fall at the redhead’s feet to beg for his attentions.
“You’re ready,” the words were a statement, not a question, accompanied by Kisuke’s tongue gliding excruciatingly slowly across Ichigo’s bottom lip. The body below him jerked slightly, mouth opening to allow a shy tongue to come out and meet Urahara’s own, a thin line of saliva trailing between them. Kisuke could feel Ichigo’s heart pounding against his chest, the young man’s long fingers trailing scandalously down his spine to run along inside his waistband, dipping into the small indentation just above Urahara‘s ass. Good gods! Ichigo was going to make him an inept with nothing but the tips of his fingers!
“Oh you’re more than ready. You’re dying for it. Aren’t you?” Kisuke sunk his teeth into the soft earlobe offered so delectably by the turn of Ichigo’s head, worrying the flesh with care. When the redhead didn’t respond to his question he bit down harder, earning a sharp gasp and a set of fingernails scraping up his back to sink into the hair at the base of his skull. “Aren’t you, Ichigo?”
After visibly composing himself, Ichigo nodded silently, letting his legs fall open around Urahara’s hips in an unspoken invitation. Settled there between the redhead’s thighs, Urahara found instant friction, grinding his teeth together slowly to maintain some level of self-control. Not here! They couldn’t do this here! Unfortunately his body wasn’t cooperating, sending signals that were clouding his mind to the point of delirium. Everything was reducing down to the feel of his feverish skin, his erection throbbing painfully between his legs, and the tiny line of sweat that was beading down his temple despite the chill in the air. Gods…and Ichigo was squirming, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together and infusing all his senses with unsurpassed heat. It was becoming hard to think. He had to get a hold of himself!
He took a deep breath to try and calm down, reaching to grasp the younger man’s chin between his suddenly trembling fingers before nibbling at the corner of his mouth. “That’s not good enough,” Urahara whispered huskily, pushing his hips downward against Ichigo’s arousal, making the redhead’s body arch towards him. “Answer me properly.”
“Yes!” Ichigo ground out, head thrashing to the side as his breath came out in what appeared to be a painful rush. He was beautiful like this, all flushed and needy. It was, Kisuke had to admit, quite alluring. Almost irresistible. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Kisuke teased, chuckling darkly into the skin of Ichigo’s throat. A low growl rumbled in Ichigo’s chest, making Urahara laugh more loudly. Even now, in such an emotionally charged moment, he still found it amusing to get a rise out of the younger man. It was part of the reason he had fallen so hard for the boy; the never-ending thrill of simply being together. Things just made more sense with Ichigo around.
Why did Urahara have to be such an insufferable asshole?! Ichigo’s eyes narrowed as thoughts of murder passed through his brain, glaring at the blonde who seemed to be about to die of laughter. Gods! As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was already at an obvious disadvantage by being a virgin, but the older man had to go the extra mile and make him feel absolutely ridiculous about said virginity as well. It wasn’t Ichigo’s fault! He didn’t know how to put what he wanted into words! He only knew that he wanted.
But the throbbing in his body was beginning to become maddening, threatening to shatter his brain and leave him nothing but an empty shell. Or at least that’s how it felt. He had to do something…anything…to alleviate the quasi-pain, to release the building pressure. His fingers seemed to have taken on a life of their own, weaving in and out of Kisuke’s soft hair, digging into his clothes to knead at the muscles beneath. Ichigo could barely breath, barely think, could barely form words. He was no longer Kurosaki Ichigo. Now he was nothing but the most basic physical demands, the most impulse driven desires. He had become his instincts.
“Just touch me,” he breathed, pulling Kisuke’s mouth up to his own to push their lips together frantically. “I’m going to die.”
“A bit melodramatic Kurosaki-kun, you‘re hardly at death‘s door,” Kisuke chuckled, pulling his lips away only enough to be teasing. Without speaking further the older man began slowly nibbling down his neck, leaving a burning trail of kisses in his wake. Each press of lips seemed to make Ichigo feel as though all the blood in his body was rushing to that spot, bubbling so close to the surface it was aching, and then rushing away to leave him feeling light-headed.
He’d had been about to respond (as wittily as his cloudy brain could manage) when Kisuke’s hair tickled at a spot near the base of his neck, making him giggle in a way that could only be considered school girlish at best. The giggle transformed into a laugh when the older man exploited the spot father, brushing his pale nose along the sensitive skin until Ichigo was practically begging him to stop. So very manly. But this…this was what he’d missed so badly. Moments like these. Why would he ever want anything else?
“Enough! Enough…enough,” he gasped, laughter dying down as he regained his breath. When oxygen was properly being pumped into his lungs again he found himself calmed down a bit, the throbbing desire ebbing away in the face of simple tenderness. Raising his chin up, he brushed his lips against Kisuke’s, smiling when the older man shivered in response. “Was that shiver for me or the cold?”
“I would say it was entirely you, but it is getting a little chilly,” Urahara grinned, letting a few of his breaths fog the air around them as if to prove his point. Slowly the blonde rose up on his forearms, looking down at Ichigo with a very serious expression, his gray eyes narrowed and seeking. “Forgive me?”
“Yeah,” Ichigo replied casually, accepting the older man’s hand to help him stand up on still slightly wobbly legs and jump back down to the street below. “Though there is one thing you can do to make it up to me.”
“Name it.”
“Take a shower Kisuke…haven’t you bathed in the past month?!”
Loves!!
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
Cherry!
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Date: 2008-08-13 10:11 pm (UTC)Oh and I adore the last line! ^_^
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Date: 2008-08-13 11:25 pm (UTC)I didn't realize until the end when I was editing it that it goes all the way from absolutely angstiness to sweeping fluff all in one chapter.
*rubs back of neck* ah well...its long so that's my excuse.
Hee hee...I thank you for reading.
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Date: 2008-08-14 12:31 am (UTC)The part that made me smile actually was A bit melodramatic Kurosaki-kun, you‘re hardly at death‘s door for all the times that Ichi has actually been at death's door...this seemed amusing.
A really awesome chapter...
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Date: 2008-08-14 12:38 am (UTC)I had a person write me a review over at FF.net and say that she was confused by this story because it doesn't seem to have a "plot". I thought I made it pretty clear that this is a non-linear story. It's just going from one big moment in their relationship to the next without the stuff in between. Hell you could even move the chapters around in time if you wanted. *scratches head*
Now i'm kinda doubting myself on this a little.
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Date: 2008-08-14 01:45 am (UTC)Of course, I actually start conversations in the middle of an idea or sentence...just like we've joined what was going on in the middle.
Please don't doubt....
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Date: 2008-08-14 01:47 am (UTC)I've gotten like SIX people begging me to write the actual break-up scene in a short piece. *purses lips* I guess i'll have to break down and bite the bullet.
Whatcha think? Kisuke or Ichigo's POV?
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Date: 2008-08-14 03:31 am (UTC)On the other hand, while Ichigo would a great one to "hear". WTF? all around I would guess. His voice would be very loud.
That didn't help did it?
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Date: 2008-08-14 11:59 am (UTC)The beginning was very intriguing with both of them angsting over their relationship. I think Urahara's insecurity and the reasons for him wanting to break up with Ichigo are very plausible. Both of them being that miserable about the break-up showed the depth of their emotions again.
I really liked the paragraph about their day at the festival, this perfect scene made Ichigo's confusion so much more understandable.
I think you killed me with that last line though... I was laughing so hard. All the tension (and even the sexual implications) giving way to that line... just fabulous!
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Date: 2008-08-15 03:12 pm (UTC)*whimper*
I like to have almost all my stories end with a good one liner. Wrapping up a story should feel like the last big bang! I'm really glad you liked it! It makes me happy to hear it.
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Date: 2008-08-27 03:41 pm (UTC)Sorry my brain's not working! XD This was that... fantastic.
And when they got back together, on that concrete wall, Ichigo sitting on Urahara's lap. I could just see that, you know. It was beautifully, wonderfully, fantastically -and any other adjective for awesome out there- written. You handled the break-up and the make-up with the extremely sweet and definitely HOT make-out session so brilliantly. I'm just... I'm still in so much awe of this chapter, I'm going to go read it again.
And I'm SO grateful I don't have to wait for the next chapter in this series because I absolutely have to read MORE!
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Date: 2008-08-27 06:58 pm (UTC)I feel so bad now! You're all caught up with me and I have nothing new to present you with! Friend my journal though so that you can see when the new update comes (eventually). I've titled it "Passionfruit".
*grin* I can't wait to write that. I LOVE writing sex scenes. They're my favorite.
Maybe i'll write a short peice to add to Overlooked before delving into it, hmm? I need to get my Uraichi feel.
Hmmmm...what shall it be about? Any suggestions? Prompts? You were so awesome about reviewing I want to give you a treat!
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Date: 2008-08-28 10:28 am (UTC)I love reading good smut! Most of them make it almost icky, or use the same old cliches, it gets boring. But yours so far are pretty awesome and really, really hot.
And I'm still reading Overlooked. I have the last two to read and I was going to comment there too. Aaaaaand Thank you! I do have prompts in mind and it would be really great if you wrote a drabble to them. I mean, I'd be overjoyed if you did. XD
So, the prompts are:
Ichigo's school uniform, Benihime, lollipops.