untitled PWP
Greetings. First time poster. Hopefully people like... ^^;
Pairing: Urahara/Uryuu (of course), slight implied Orihime/Sado
Type: Plot? What plot? >;) Medium to long, around 5k words. All events take place after current manga/anime, when Ishida is older (AKA no longer jail bait by my standards). No spoilers that I can think of because, really, I don’t use any of the main plot besides the characters themselves. :P
Rating: NC-17 for mansex and a small amount of bad language.
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach and all its characters, I just misuse them.
Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve at the Urahara Shouten. One wily shopkeeper plus one unwitting Quincy plus a whole lot of alcohol equals …
cross-posted to bleach_yaoi
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It was New Year’s Eve and there was a party going on at the Urahara Shouten. Most of the usual suspects were there, at least the ones who didn’t have any other family. Which meant that Ichigo and Rukia were both absent, but Orihime, Sado, Ishida, and the Urahara Shop residents were all present. Urahara had politely (but firmly, and with a rather scary smile) suggested that since the others didn’t have a family to speak of, it would be a grand idea for them all to be a substitute family for one night.
So, here they were. Urahara, Jinta, Ururu, and Orihime were noisily causing chaos and watching television at one end of the living space. Sado, Tessai, and Ishida were sitting more quietly, making occasional (very occasional) small talk. There were treats and traditional soba noodles and a very large amount of sake, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. As the night wore on, the kids started to slow down and get quieter, and by the time the temple bells could be heard ringing at midnight, they were unresisting to be pushed off to bed by Tessai. Once he returned, everyone gathered in the center of the living space, sitting on couches and chairs in a rough semicircle, a low table filled with beverages, snacks, and the remains of colorful wrapping paper in the center.
Urahara beamed at his remaining guests, hat slightly tilted askew and an alcohol-induced flush spreading across his face, and inquired sweetly, “More sake, anyone?”
Orihime squealed happily and bounced up and down on her seat. “Oo, oo, me, me!!” she exclaimed, waving her hand excitedly. (At least one pair of glazed, male eyes followed the bouncing with fascination.) Then she picked up her sake cup and held it out unsteadily for Urahara to fill. There followed much giggling from Inoue and comments from Urahara such as, “A little higher Orihime-chan … no, not that high … now left … a little more,” as the two inebriated individuals desperately tried to get bottle and cup to meet long enough to pour.
Finally Orihime slumped back with a cry of triumph, upended the entire contents of her cup down her throat, and immediately slumped against Sado’s arm, snoring slightly.
The others stared in surprise for a moment before breaking into laughter - loud and boisterous from Urahara, quiet but amused from Ishida and Tessai, and just a gentle grunt from Sado.
“Oh dear, I think Inoue-chan has reached her limit,” Urahara laughed, fanning himself. “Shall we make up a spare futon for her?”
Sado shook his head and stood, picking Orihime up in his arms effortlessly. “No, I’ll take her home,” he stated simply. Tessai rose and left the room with Sado to help get their coats and things.
Urahara turned his smile back across the table to the room’s only remaining occupant, Ishida. “So, Ishida-kun, more sake?”
“Uh, no thank you, Urahara-san.”
“Oh, come now, you want to stay just a little longer, don’t you? What better way to pass the time? Have a drink or two with me, Ishida-kun!” Urahara leaned forward, completely filling Ishida’s glass with the smoothest (and strongest) of the remaining sakes. He took up another (less strong) bottle to (partially) fill his own glass.
Ishida, trying to ignore the fact that Urahara’s standard clothes (what, did the man have 20 of these outfits stashed somewhere?) hid nothing from his neck to his waist when he leaned forward like that, picked up the cup and sipped gingerly. Then he leaned back on the sofa, unsure what to do next or what he could possibly talk about with the shopkeeper.
Urahara didn’t have any such confusion. He proceeded to start chattering away about anything and everything: the weather, how much Jinta had complained about cleaning the shop in preparation for the new year, about how cute Orihime and Sado looked together, gossip from Soul Society, and even human politics and news.
Tessai stepped in briefly just to announce he had no intention of staying up all night and was going to bed. And then Ishida and Urahara were alone again.
Ishida fidgeted for a few minutes and then opened his mouth to say he would be leaving too.
“So, Ishida-kun, what plans do you have for the next couple days?” Urahara asked, abruptly changing subjects and cutting off Ishida before he could say a word.
“I was planning to visit one of the nearby shrines of course, but nothing beyond that.”
“Oh, nothing?” Urahara questioned, a disbelievingly innocent look on what could be seen of his face. “Come on, you must be planning to do something.”
“No, not particularly.”
“Really?”
“Well… I’ll probably study a bit and work on a project for my classes.”
“Oh, that’s right, how is your university education going? What was your major again, fashion design?”
Ishida habitually straightened a bit and pushed his glasses further up his nose, eyebrow twitching a little in irritation. “Yes, that is correct. And can’t everyone stop teasing me about it?”
“No offense meant, Ishida-kun, none at all! I was just curious. Do people tease you a lot?” Urahara asked, looking as innocent as he could.
“Yes, damn it!” Ishida snapped. “You’d think that every single person on this earth thinks fashion designer equates with being helplessly, flaming gay.”
Urahara chuckled and reached out with the sake bottle again to refill Ishida’s cup. “Sounds rough. Luckily as your friends we know you’re made of manly steel underneath those fashionable clothes.”
“Thanks, I think,” Ishida muttered, taking a big gulp of the sake to hide the fact that he was blushing a little.
Urahara just grinned and flopped sideways on the couch, reaching out to once again fill Ishida’s cup.
“I mean, I sort of understand it,” the younger man muttered. “Most of the people in my classes are either female or gay.”
“So you’re not gay?” Urahara asked in a slightly confused voice.
Once Ishida’s coughing fit stopped he proceeded to glare daggers at the shopkeeper. “NO,” he said, his voice dripping ice water.
Urahara just laughed. “Just kidding, calm down Ishida-kun. It is stereotypical, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show interest in girls.” He paused, looking thoughtful, tapping his chin. “Guys either, to be fair.”
“What about you?” Ishida spluttered, face flushed with embarrassment and alcohol. “I’ve never seen you pay any attention to another human being either. Unless …” He paused. “Can I ask you a personal question, Urahara-san?”
“Ask away~!” Urahara answered jovially, sipping his sake with a big grin.
“Are you and Yoruichi … um … romantically involved?”
“Eh? No, we’re just good friends, comrades,” Urahara said dismissively waving his hand. Then he giggled and leaned towards Ishida conspiratorially. “Personally, I think she’s fucking that feisty little Captain who follows her around. But she hasn’t let me in on the secret yet and I haven’t asked.” He leaned back, shaking his head, a huge smirk plastered across his face. “Not that Yoruichi would really care if I asked her, the woman has no shame. She’d probably describe her latest encounter in precise, blow-by-blow detail.”
Ishida was sure his face must be bright red, and to cover his confusion he took another gulp of sake. Which Urahara promptly replaced from the sake bottle. So the younger man took another swallow. At which point he suddenly realized that he’d been drinking quite a bit of sake and was most definitely tipsy, possibly downright drunk, and on his guaranteed way to getting completely smashed if he kept this up.
“You’re trying to get me drunk!” he accused.
“Of course. It’s much more entertaining that way! Here, I’ll join you,” and Urahara finished off his current sake cup in one smooth swallow. Ishida watched in hypnotized fascination as the long column of the shopkeeper’s neck was displayed and his Adam’s apple bobbed, and then remembering his manners he hurriedly picked up the sake bottle Urahara had been favoring and leaned over to refill the other’s cup.
From there the conversation seemed to ramble through every imaginable topic. Several hours later Ishida found himself amazed at the things he didn’t know about the man across from him. He was wickedly funny. (Yes, Ishida had theoretically known that. But it was different listening to stories about Urahara’s and Yoruichi’s practical jokes and outrageous exploits while in the Shinigami academy.) Though every now and then a spark of something much more serious and almost deadly would shine through. (Those both worried and interested Ishida. Urahara was amusing most of the time, but it felt like a public face. Whatever was underneath seemed sharper, more intense, magnetic to the younger man.) He was smart. (Again, that should have been obvious. Ishida theoretically knew it. After all, Urahara was the former head of the Shinigami Research Institute. But there was a difference between knowing it and actually talking with the man about some of his past research.)
And he was rather good-looking.
Ishida blinked. Where had that thought come from? Before he could think about it too closely, Urahara sat up and started sorting the sake bottles on the table.
“Let’s see. Full. Half-full. Or half-empty I suppose, depending on your view. Empty, empty, empty, a shame that. Drink up, Ishida-kun! We still have a bottle and a half to go!”
Ishida groaned. “Please, no. Haven’t we drunk enough?”
“Oh, Ishida-kun, you’re no fun~♥! How about we make it into a game? Truth or dare … except instead of dare, it’ll be truth or drink!” Urahara grinned across the table, leaning tipsily across to, yet once more, top off the Quincy’s drink. “I’ll ask first, shall I?”
“No!”
Urahara ignored him. “Now let’s see … who’s the first person you ever kissed?”
Crossing his arms and glowering at the shopkeeper, Ishida replied, “No! I am not doing this!”
“Oh, Ishida-kun, it’ll be fun. Isn’t there anything you’ve ever wanted to pry out of me?” Urahara gave a playful wink and collapsed against the back of the sofa, spreading his arms along the back and practically melting into it.
After glaring for several moments he finally spoke. “Tanaka Megumi. She was in the arts and crafts club years ago, before she moved away.”
“There, you see, was that so hard?” The trademark grin was back again. It made Ishida really, really want to remove it somehow. “Now it’s your turn.”
What can I ask him to make him shut up? Or at least take a drink instead of answering, which will mean there’s something he’s embarrassed about, so I can get him back for this idiotic idea? Ideas flashed through the younger man’s mind. Sex? Drugs? Rock and roll? No, no, that was all very silly. Something controversial from his past, maybe? Damn, he couldn’t think of anything. Ishida sighed and gave up. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Pass!” the other exclaimed happily and leaned forward long enough to swallow another shot before slumping back.
“Pass?!” Ishida exclaimed indignantly, leaning to provide a refill. “What the hell, old man?! Are you trying to get more drunk? It’s just ice cream.”
“Oh, but ice cream is a very personal matter,” Urahara declared, waggling one finger in mock seriousness. “You can’t just ask a man to bare his secrets like that. Now, how about you, Ishida-kun? What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Chocolate-covered cherry,” Ishida answered promptly. “What?” he asked suspiciously, thinking that the noise from the other man had sounded suspiciously like a giggle. When no answer was forthcoming, he moved on to his next question. “And what makes ice cream so personal? Explain that to me.” I am so drunk. Why do I think that matters?
Urahara sat up to reach for his cup, then paused. Then sat back, grinning. “Well, there are so many fun things you can do with it. Eat it straight out of the carton. Ice cream sundaes. Milk shakes. There’s nothing like a good milk shake,” he declared brightly. “And,” he leaned forward, winking conspiratorially, “it can make sex a little sweeter, you know. Well, if you can get past the fact that it’s so cold. But if the other person is tied up they can’t really stop you, now can they?” Ignoring Ishida’s furiously spluttering and blushing state he asked, “Have you ever kissed a man?”
“No!” For lack of a better question while his brain was feeling like the Shingami had sliced directly through it with his Zanpacktou, Ishida just repeated back, “Have you ever kissed a man?”
“Nope! My turn again~♥! If you’ve never done it, how do you know whether or not you’d like it?”
“I just wouldn’t!”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No!”
“You’re saying you’ve never even thought about it?”
Ishida valiantly tried to gather his thoughts together. And to stop blushing; he was doing that far too often tonight. He drew himself up, did his trademark glasses push, and opened his mouth to deliver a scathing and brilliantly formed retort. “You’re so fucking gay.” Oops, that wasn’t it.
“Aha, avoiding the question! So you have!”
Ishida groaned in frustration and slumped back on the couch, pulling his glasses off and closing his eyes to rub the bridge of his nose. Eyes still closed he sighed and admitted, “Yes, I have thought about it, just like I’ve also thought about what it would be like to go sky diving. It doesn’t mean I’d do either of them.”
“Are you sure?” a voice asked softly beside him.
Ishida jumped about a foot both up and sideways, whirling, and jamming his glasses back on as quickly as he could. Somehow Urahara had silently moved to his couch, sitting crosslegged only a few inches away, looking at him seriously.
“What the hell! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Urahara just tilted his head to the side and kept regarding Ishida. “Are you sure?” he repeated.
“Yes!!”
Urahara shrugged, a slight smile playing across his face. “A shame,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to run two fingers lightly along the side of Ishida’s jaw, from just below the ear to the tip of his chin. “You’re quite attractive you know. I wouldn’t mind doing a little experimenting with you.” A hint of a teasing gleam flashed from the shaded eyes. His hand slid to cup the side of Ishida’s face and he leaned slightly closer.
Ishida was so shocked he didn’t even try to move. His heart felt like it stopped the instant Urahara had touched him, and the skin on his arms had erupted in prickling goose-flesh as the hand had slid ever so slowly and feather-light along his jaw. Now his breath was coming quickly and shallowly, and his eyes widened. The thought filtered through his head that Urahara looked like he was going to kiss him and the idea made him tingle from head to toe.
Then Urahara just patted the side of his face lightly and grinned. “If you ever change your mind, Ishida-kun, let me know!~ ♥”
Bouncing to his feet Urahara scooped the empty sake bottles off the table and headed for the kitchen. Ishida sagged forward with a gasp, eyes staring incredulously after the shopkeeper’s back. Then he hurriedly scrambled off the couch and unsteadily headed for the closest hiding place he could think of: the bathroom.
Hastily shutting and locking the door he leaned back against it, panting and bewildered. What the hell had just happened?
His mind helpfully supplied Urahara-san just hit on you and you thought he was going to kiss you and you liked it.
Ishida just stood there, as that information slowly percolated through his mind.
“Guess that confirms I like guys,” he muttered. “Though if he was human, he’d be olde enough to be my father. But he’s a Shinigami, so he’s a hell of a lot older than that.”
And he found he didn’t really care. More than that, he actually found the idea rather interesting. There was something to be said for experience.
Straightening with a deep breath he figured since he was in the bathroom he might as well use it and try not to think too hard about anything else. Urahara had left him alone, after all. He didn’t think he had to worry about him pushing the issue. He grimaced as he realized that in a way he wished Urahara had continued. Part of him really was curious.
When he was done he washed his hands and splashed water on his face, trying to sober up a little bit. He was finding he had to pay careful attention to anything he was trying to do. The edges of his perception were fuzzy and he could only concentrate on one thing at a time.
Opening the door to the bathroom Ishida stepped out and nearly ran into Urahara, who was just walking up. He tripped on his own feet as he tried to avoid stepping on Urahara’s and the only thing that saved him from a bruising encounter with the floor was one of Urahara’s arms snaking around his stomach to catch him.
With a gasp Ishida tried to straighten, grabbing hold of Urahara’s shoulder while gaining his footing again. Then he froze, suddenly realizing one of Urahara’s arms was still wrapped around his waist from the front, he was holding onto the shopkeeper’s opposite shoulder, and they were only a hand’s breadth apart at most. Jerking his head upward his eyes flicked across the older man’s face. Urahara was watching him carefully, eyes shadowed and unreadable.
Ishida tipped his head back and licked his lips nervously, hand tightening on Urahara’s shoulder. The shopkeeper seemed to take that as a positive indication, because he tipped his head down, pausing only when his lips were so close to Ishida’s that they could feel each other’s breath, the brim of his old, felt hat brushing Ishida’s forehead. With a strangled gasp Ishida surged up, eliminating the last distance.
Ishida had kissed a reasonable number of people given his age, though it wasn’t a very large number either. He at least had enough experience to quickly realize that Urahara was definitely a very good kisser. Lips moved and guided his open and a wet, quick tongue darted into his mouth, searching and teasing before retreating again. Urahara’s other hand rose to stroke Ishida’s neck, running behind his ear and under his jaw.
Finally they broke apart, Ishida panting and Urahara with a small grin on his face.
Ishida glared. “Don’t look so smug.”
“Why not?” Urahara asked innocently. “I’ve confirmed my hypothesis.”
A snort was his only answer. That and a hand raised to run over the skin visible through his loose clothes.
“That’s more than a kiss, Ishida-kun,” Urahara said in amusement.
“You’re the one that wanted to experiment,” Ishida declared brazenly, running his hand lower, pushing the fabric aside so he could touch more of Urahara’s chest. “And you’re the one that got me completely drunk. Deal with it.”
Urahara leaned closer, lips brushing an ear framed by black hair. “Be careful what you ask for, Ishida-kun.” The only response he received was a gasp and Ishida leaning forward to press fully against him. The Quincy’s hands drifted downward across skin and cloth until they came to rest at Urahara’s waist, tugging at the tie there. Slightly larger hands covered his to stop him and Urahara purred into his ear, “Not here. I was coming to tell you I made up a futon in a spare room for you. I suggest retiring there if you’re having the urge to undress me.” The words were emphasized by lips closing teasingly on his ear.
Ishida gasped, “Yes,” and then gave a yelp of surprise as the warm, firm support he’d been leaning on disappeared and he was dragged by a wrist along the length of the house, stumbling and trying to keep his footing.
The next thing Ishida knew he was pushed through a doorway and then Urahara followed him, closing the door softly behind them. Ishida barely had time to take in a small, mainly-bare room with a futon spread in the center of the floor. Then he was pulled closer again, Urahara’s hands slipping up the back of his shirt to carefully stroke his lower back, lips meeting his again. In response Ishida’s hands slid again to tug at Urahara’s clothing, finally getting the shopkeeper’s shirt open so he could run hands up and down the smooth lines of chest and stomach and sides. Everything was as firm and delightful to touch as he had imagined it would be. One hand drifted along the waist of Urahara’s pants, fiddling with the dusting of light hair that led teasingly from navel to still-hidden places. He hesitated for a second, then threw caution to the wind and slid his hand down along the front of the fabric. A pleased gasp and hips pressing forward were Urahara’s responses.
The shopkeeper ceased his exploration of Ishida’s mouth to pull back, what was visible of his face briefly serious. “At any point, tell me to stop and I will. Understand?”
Ishida nodded, a faint blush reaching his cheeks at the implication that Urahara had in mind things that might make him want to say ‘stop.’
Then the shopkeeper’s grin was back and he pushed Ishida’s shirt and undershirt up as far as he could, hands running along sides and thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. He also started moving his mouth along Ishida’s neck, trying to find the spots where the Quincy was the most sensitive. Ishida for his part gasped and tugged at Urahara’s clothes, trying to get the other man to stop long enough to slide out of his robe and shirt. Without pausing his kissing and suckling at Ishida’s neck, the shopkeeper shrugged first one and then the other arm free, immediately returning them to caressing Ishida’s chest.
Then he wiggled one of his hands down inside the back of Ishida’s pants, cupping and pulling their bodies closer together. Ishida gasped and desperately tried to figure out by touch how to get Urahara’s pants open.
“Impatient, Ishida-kun?” Urahara giggled, giving a playful squeeze. Then he lifted both hands up to pull firmly at Ishida’s shirts. The Quincy raised his arms, helping to wiggle out of them.
As soon as the cloth was tossed to the side, Urahara pressed forward insistently, lips teasing now-bare flesh, hands circling Ishida’s waist, and his victim stumbled backwards under the onslaught.
Ishida squawked indignantly as a leg snaked behind his knee, tripping him. Urahara grinned as he caught the lighter man and then lowered him to the blankets, following after to lay on top.
“Wait!” Ishida gasped and Urahara froze, a disappointed expression fleeting across his face. “This thing goes first,” and fingers reached up to pull at the brim of his hat.
Urahara clasped one hand protectively to the top of his head. “Is that really necessary, Ishida-kun?” he asked innocently.
“Yes. Lose the hat.”
“But I like my hat.”
Ishida snorted and looped a leg up over Urahara’s. “You don’t need it right now. Lose the hat or we stop.”
With a lengthy sigh Urahara slowly lowered his hand. Ishida grinned and again raised fingers to lift the brim of the white and green hat. His eyes curiously searched the face above and widened as he pulled the hat completely off, flicking it off into some other part of the room. Urahara with his hat was interesting and reasonably good looking and tantalizingly mysterious (if also rather disreputable looking). Urahara without his hat … Ishida ran fingers along the stubbly jaw, then up to eyebrows and through sandy-colored hair. This Urahara was downright rakishly handsome.
Urahara spoiled the effect with one of his ridiculous, face-splitting grins. “Like what you see?” he giggled, bending down for another kiss. Ishida moaned and fisted the back of the shaggy hair.
Leaning on one elbow, Urahara used his other hand to tug at both of their pants. Ishida’s fingers joined his, pulling urgently. Finally a zipper moved down and ties were undone and hands shoved cloth along legs, kicking and pushing their last coverings off.
Ishida gasped. He’d never imagined that another man’s erection sliding against his could feel so good. Well, he’d never imagined it, period. Either way, the feeling was smooth and firm, steel covered in silk. He pulled at Urahara’s back, groaning and pressing and moving against him.
The older man slid his hand between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around their erections, making sure they slid together as he pressed his hips forward.
Ishida gasped, arching, delighting in something that felt so good. The feeling only intensified as Urahara dragged his lips across Ishida’s face and neck, finally latching with bruising intensity onto the junction between shoulder and neck.
The lips released only to whisper, “So, is this enough, or do you want more?”
“More? What do you mean?” Ishida gasped, hazily trying to concentrate on the concept.
“M~o~r~e, Ishida-kun,” Urahara sing-songed merrily. He let go of their erections and starting wiggling down Ishida’s body, kissing a trail as he went. “More-” sucking on a nipple “like-” kissing down the center of the lean chest “this-” tongue dipping into navel “and-” hand running over both hips “like this!~” right before he drew Ishida’s erection into his mouth.
Ishida yelped and bucked upwards, hard. The hands on his hips effortlessly stopped him and he whimpered in shock and ecstasy. From where Urahara’s mouth touched him, tingling tremors were running throughout his whole body, and he writhed and moaned, not caring what he sounded like. He pushed harder with his hips, trying to find more pleasure, to go deeper. It was warm and wet and alternated so many amazing feelings, both suction and sliding and the feel of an incredibly agile tongue sliding all over him.
No matter how hard he struggled to raise his hips, Urahara’s hands stopped him. The large, warm hands splayed over his hips, thumbs running in gentle circles over the junction of leg and pelvis. It was both torture and bliss to be completely out of control, to be at the shopkeeper’s mercy.
One of the firm hands lifted. Ishida was so focused on the touch of Urahara’s mouth, head spinning from the sensation, that it took him several very long moments to notice when the fingers returned, sliding up the cleft between his buttocks, finding and settling on a small pucker of skin.
“Oh!” he gasped, jerking from head to toe at the feeling.
Urahara lifted his head, fingers briefly leaving their work. “Yes, this too, Ishida-kun,” his voice chuckled, and then the mouth and the fingers were back. But now the fingers were slick and wet. They teased and pressed and Ishida was frantic now, beside himself with need. He wanted more, he needed more, even without knowing what ‘more’ meant. When the slick finger suddenly pressed more firmly and slid inside in a way so completely alien and yet perfectly sensual, Ishida cried out loudly. Hands that had clutched the blankets until now raised and clamped into Urahara’s hair, yanking the shopkeeper’s head down as hard as he could.
With only a muffled noise of surprise, Urahara slid down all the way, smoothly taking every inch of Ishida into his mouth. As if in retribution, his finger moved deeper inside the Quincy, then was joined by a second.
Ishida felt his orgasm approaching and then surging through him, intense in flashes of light and pleasure, touching every inch of his skin and drawing every fiber of his being down to one intense spot in his belly. Then he was releasing, yanking again and again on Urahara’s hair and crying out incoherently, desperately.
Then the wave passed and his hands dropped away limply. Urahara pulled off with a great deal of coughing and gasping, spitting several times into his hand.
“Ishida-kun,” he exclaimed reproachfully, “you didn’t have to try and choke me!” Ishida just gazed at him uncomprehendingly, still breathless and trembling. He saw an wicked grin start to spread across the handsome face. “Oh well. You can pay me back by helping me finish.”
Then Urahara’s hand was pressed to him again, now slick with both his spit and Ishida’s come. Ishida moaned, so limp and relaxed and that he didn’t even realize that Urahara had slid three fingers inside of him instead of the previous two, pushing deeper and deeper. He moaned lightly, barely moving, twitching a little as the sensation caused echoes of orgasm to brush his nerves.
“Perfect,” the shopkeeper murmured, finding Ishida completely open and ready for him. Ishida’s eyes widened as he saw Urahara sit back on his heels, using the last of the mess on his hand to stroke his erection. It suddenly occurred to him just what was going on.
Before he had time to do more than gasp, Urahara had bent forward, grabbing and flipping Ishida onto his stomach, pulling him closer and spreading his legs. Those fingers were back again, and Ishida felt concern and nervousness fly away, unable to occupy the same space in his head as the returning pleasure. Chest pressed to the futon, ass in the air, he moaned. “Do it!”
Urahara didn’t hesitate. Ishida felt a blunt pressure against his ass and then suddenly he was being stretched again - similar to the fingers but oh so much better - and then filled.
If Ishida had been in his usual, logical frame of mind, he might have cataloged and considered this sensation, deciding that ‘full’ and ‘powerful’ and ‘incredible’ were all good words to describe it. However, he was not. There was only one word that came to mind and he started moaning it in time with the Shinigami’s shallow thrusts. “More!”
Urahara responded with a happy sound, gradually increasing the depth and fierceness of his thrusts. Ishida felt the Shinigami’s hands shift his hips a little bit, then a little bit more. Urahara gave one final pull and the next thrust sent an electric tingle shooting through the Ishida’s body. The Quincy gave a cry of surprise and pleasure, jerking all over in reaction.
Unbelievably, Ishida felt himself growing hard again. That shouldn’t be possible, it shouldn’t be happening, but oh, as another thrust caused that strange pulse of pleasure to run through him, it was.
Once again Ishida found himself completely out of control, unable to do more than just obey the wordless commands of Urahara’s body. When Urahara’s chest pressed against his back, one hand slipping around his waist to catch his bobbing erection, Ishida didn’t know whether to press back against the delicious invasion or forward into the smoothly stroking hand. Caught between the two forces he heard one wordless, pleasured noise after another leave his throat, heard and felt the smack of Urahara’s flesh against his own, and slowly spiraled back up to his second orgasm.
As Ishida found his release, Urahara was dragged into his own. Unlike Ishida’s first time, this time it was Urahara who was in control and the one who suddenly thrust deeper, more demandingly, quicker and more staccato, until with one last driving thrust he plunged into Ishida and froze there. Hands grabbed hips and he pulled the Quincy against him, trying to press deeper than was physically possible, body trembling and twitching through burst after burst of release.
The shopkeeper gave a last gasp and then suddenly went limp. With a happy groan, Urahara simultaneously fell forward and rolled sideways, ending up on his back by Ishida. Lazily reaching out he pulled the other closer, hugging the leaner body to his chest. He somehow managing to get the blanket tugged out from under their bodies and pulled it over them both, ignoring the damp patches on it.
“Mmm,” he hummed, gently kissing the Quincy’s face. “I hope Ishida-kun might want to do that again sometime? Because for a first time, you were delightful.”
Ishida blushed. “Maybe. You too. But … how did you know what to do? You said you hadn’t even kissed another man before.”
“I lied~♥!” Urahara declared cheerfully. At Ishida’s outraged squawk he just giggled and kissed the other’s lips. “Go to sleep, Ishida-kun. Wake me if you happen to notice the sunrise.” Then the shopkeeper nestled more comfortably into the futon, pulling Ishida to his chest and almost instantly starting to breath deeply and evenly.
Ishida considered hitting the shopkeeper or trying to pry further details out of him. However, thick, sated exhaustion won out before he could have more than a brief thought of either and he fell asleep pillowed on Urahara’s chest.
~~<>~~
A/N - *ahem* I am incapable of writing anything but porn. So sad. Oh well, hopefully you enjoyed. -_-; Comments/critiques always appreciated.
Pairing: Urahara/Uryuu (of course), slight implied Orihime/Sado
Type: Plot? What plot? >;) Medium to long, around 5k words. All events take place after current manga/anime, when Ishida is older (AKA no longer jail bait by my standards). No spoilers that I can think of because, really, I don’t use any of the main plot besides the characters themselves. :P
Rating: NC-17 for mansex and a small amount of bad language.
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach and all its characters, I just misuse them.
Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve at the Urahara Shouten. One wily shopkeeper plus one unwitting Quincy plus a whole lot of alcohol equals …
cross-posted to bleach_yaoi
~~<>~~
It was New Year’s Eve and there was a party going on at the Urahara Shouten. Most of the usual suspects were there, at least the ones who didn’t have any other family. Which meant that Ichigo and Rukia were both absent, but Orihime, Sado, Ishida, and the Urahara Shop residents were all present. Urahara had politely (but firmly, and with a rather scary smile) suggested that since the others didn’t have a family to speak of, it would be a grand idea for them all to be a substitute family for one night.
So, here they were. Urahara, Jinta, Ururu, and Orihime were noisily causing chaos and watching television at one end of the living space. Sado, Tessai, and Ishida were sitting more quietly, making occasional (very occasional) small talk. There were treats and traditional soba noodles and a very large amount of sake, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. As the night wore on, the kids started to slow down and get quieter, and by the time the temple bells could be heard ringing at midnight, they were unresisting to be pushed off to bed by Tessai. Once he returned, everyone gathered in the center of the living space, sitting on couches and chairs in a rough semicircle, a low table filled with beverages, snacks, and the remains of colorful wrapping paper in the center.
Urahara beamed at his remaining guests, hat slightly tilted askew and an alcohol-induced flush spreading across his face, and inquired sweetly, “More sake, anyone?”
Orihime squealed happily and bounced up and down on her seat. “Oo, oo, me, me!!” she exclaimed, waving her hand excitedly. (At least one pair of glazed, male eyes followed the bouncing with fascination.) Then she picked up her sake cup and held it out unsteadily for Urahara to fill. There followed much giggling from Inoue and comments from Urahara such as, “A little higher Orihime-chan … no, not that high … now left … a little more,” as the two inebriated individuals desperately tried to get bottle and cup to meet long enough to pour.
Finally Orihime slumped back with a cry of triumph, upended the entire contents of her cup down her throat, and immediately slumped against Sado’s arm, snoring slightly.
The others stared in surprise for a moment before breaking into laughter - loud and boisterous from Urahara, quiet but amused from Ishida and Tessai, and just a gentle grunt from Sado.
“Oh dear, I think Inoue-chan has reached her limit,” Urahara laughed, fanning himself. “Shall we make up a spare futon for her?”
Sado shook his head and stood, picking Orihime up in his arms effortlessly. “No, I’ll take her home,” he stated simply. Tessai rose and left the room with Sado to help get their coats and things.
Urahara turned his smile back across the table to the room’s only remaining occupant, Ishida. “So, Ishida-kun, more sake?”
“Uh, no thank you, Urahara-san.”
“Oh, come now, you want to stay just a little longer, don’t you? What better way to pass the time? Have a drink or two with me, Ishida-kun!” Urahara leaned forward, completely filling Ishida’s glass with the smoothest (and strongest) of the remaining sakes. He took up another (less strong) bottle to (partially) fill his own glass.
Ishida, trying to ignore the fact that Urahara’s standard clothes (what, did the man have 20 of these outfits stashed somewhere?) hid nothing from his neck to his waist when he leaned forward like that, picked up the cup and sipped gingerly. Then he leaned back on the sofa, unsure what to do next or what he could possibly talk about with the shopkeeper.
Urahara didn’t have any such confusion. He proceeded to start chattering away about anything and everything: the weather, how much Jinta had complained about cleaning the shop in preparation for the new year, about how cute Orihime and Sado looked together, gossip from Soul Society, and even human politics and news.
Tessai stepped in briefly just to announce he had no intention of staying up all night and was going to bed. And then Ishida and Urahara were alone again.
Ishida fidgeted for a few minutes and then opened his mouth to say he would be leaving too.
“So, Ishida-kun, what plans do you have for the next couple days?” Urahara asked, abruptly changing subjects and cutting off Ishida before he could say a word.
“I was planning to visit one of the nearby shrines of course, but nothing beyond that.”
“Oh, nothing?” Urahara questioned, a disbelievingly innocent look on what could be seen of his face. “Come on, you must be planning to do something.”
“No, not particularly.”
“Really?”
“Well… I’ll probably study a bit and work on a project for my classes.”
“Oh, that’s right, how is your university education going? What was your major again, fashion design?”
Ishida habitually straightened a bit and pushed his glasses further up his nose, eyebrow twitching a little in irritation. “Yes, that is correct. And can’t everyone stop teasing me about it?”
“No offense meant, Ishida-kun, none at all! I was just curious. Do people tease you a lot?” Urahara asked, looking as innocent as he could.
“Yes, damn it!” Ishida snapped. “You’d think that every single person on this earth thinks fashion designer equates with being helplessly, flaming gay.”
Urahara chuckled and reached out with the sake bottle again to refill Ishida’s cup. “Sounds rough. Luckily as your friends we know you’re made of manly steel underneath those fashionable clothes.”
“Thanks, I think,” Ishida muttered, taking a big gulp of the sake to hide the fact that he was blushing a little.
Urahara just grinned and flopped sideways on the couch, reaching out to once again fill Ishida’s cup.
“I mean, I sort of understand it,” the younger man muttered. “Most of the people in my classes are either female or gay.”
“So you’re not gay?” Urahara asked in a slightly confused voice.
Once Ishida’s coughing fit stopped he proceeded to glare daggers at the shopkeeper. “NO,” he said, his voice dripping ice water.
Urahara just laughed. “Just kidding, calm down Ishida-kun. It is stereotypical, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show interest in girls.” He paused, looking thoughtful, tapping his chin. “Guys either, to be fair.”
“What about you?” Ishida spluttered, face flushed with embarrassment and alcohol. “I’ve never seen you pay any attention to another human being either. Unless …” He paused. “Can I ask you a personal question, Urahara-san?”
“Ask away~!” Urahara answered jovially, sipping his sake with a big grin.
“Are you and Yoruichi … um … romantically involved?”
“Eh? No, we’re just good friends, comrades,” Urahara said dismissively waving his hand. Then he giggled and leaned towards Ishida conspiratorially. “Personally, I think she’s fucking that feisty little Captain who follows her around. But she hasn’t let me in on the secret yet and I haven’t asked.” He leaned back, shaking his head, a huge smirk plastered across his face. “Not that Yoruichi would really care if I asked her, the woman has no shame. She’d probably describe her latest encounter in precise, blow-by-blow detail.”
Ishida was sure his face must be bright red, and to cover his confusion he took another gulp of sake. Which Urahara promptly replaced from the sake bottle. So the younger man took another swallow. At which point he suddenly realized that he’d been drinking quite a bit of sake and was most definitely tipsy, possibly downright drunk, and on his guaranteed way to getting completely smashed if he kept this up.
“You’re trying to get me drunk!” he accused.
“Of course. It’s much more entertaining that way! Here, I’ll join you,” and Urahara finished off his current sake cup in one smooth swallow. Ishida watched in hypnotized fascination as the long column of the shopkeeper’s neck was displayed and his Adam’s apple bobbed, and then remembering his manners he hurriedly picked up the sake bottle Urahara had been favoring and leaned over to refill the other’s cup.
From there the conversation seemed to ramble through every imaginable topic. Several hours later Ishida found himself amazed at the things he didn’t know about the man across from him. He was wickedly funny. (Yes, Ishida had theoretically known that. But it was different listening to stories about Urahara’s and Yoruichi’s practical jokes and outrageous exploits while in the Shinigami academy.) Though every now and then a spark of something much more serious and almost deadly would shine through. (Those both worried and interested Ishida. Urahara was amusing most of the time, but it felt like a public face. Whatever was underneath seemed sharper, more intense, magnetic to the younger man.) He was smart. (Again, that should have been obvious. Ishida theoretically knew it. After all, Urahara was the former head of the Shinigami Research Institute. But there was a difference between knowing it and actually talking with the man about some of his past research.)
And he was rather good-looking.
Ishida blinked. Where had that thought come from? Before he could think about it too closely, Urahara sat up and started sorting the sake bottles on the table.
“Let’s see. Full. Half-full. Or half-empty I suppose, depending on your view. Empty, empty, empty, a shame that. Drink up, Ishida-kun! We still have a bottle and a half to go!”
Ishida groaned. “Please, no. Haven’t we drunk enough?”
“Oh, Ishida-kun, you’re no fun~♥! How about we make it into a game? Truth or dare … except instead of dare, it’ll be truth or drink!” Urahara grinned across the table, leaning tipsily across to, yet once more, top off the Quincy’s drink. “I’ll ask first, shall I?”
“No!”
Urahara ignored him. “Now let’s see … who’s the first person you ever kissed?”
Crossing his arms and glowering at the shopkeeper, Ishida replied, “No! I am not doing this!”
“Oh, Ishida-kun, it’ll be fun. Isn’t there anything you’ve ever wanted to pry out of me?” Urahara gave a playful wink and collapsed against the back of the sofa, spreading his arms along the back and practically melting into it.
After glaring for several moments he finally spoke. “Tanaka Megumi. She was in the arts and crafts club years ago, before she moved away.”
“There, you see, was that so hard?” The trademark grin was back again. It made Ishida really, really want to remove it somehow. “Now it’s your turn.”
What can I ask him to make him shut up? Or at least take a drink instead of answering, which will mean there’s something he’s embarrassed about, so I can get him back for this idiotic idea? Ideas flashed through the younger man’s mind. Sex? Drugs? Rock and roll? No, no, that was all very silly. Something controversial from his past, maybe? Damn, he couldn’t think of anything. Ishida sighed and gave up. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Pass!” the other exclaimed happily and leaned forward long enough to swallow another shot before slumping back.
“Pass?!” Ishida exclaimed indignantly, leaning to provide a refill. “What the hell, old man?! Are you trying to get more drunk? It’s just ice cream.”
“Oh, but ice cream is a very personal matter,” Urahara declared, waggling one finger in mock seriousness. “You can’t just ask a man to bare his secrets like that. Now, how about you, Ishida-kun? What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Chocolate-covered cherry,” Ishida answered promptly. “What?” he asked suspiciously, thinking that the noise from the other man had sounded suspiciously like a giggle. When no answer was forthcoming, he moved on to his next question. “And what makes ice cream so personal? Explain that to me.” I am so drunk. Why do I think that matters?
Urahara sat up to reach for his cup, then paused. Then sat back, grinning. “Well, there are so many fun things you can do with it. Eat it straight out of the carton. Ice cream sundaes. Milk shakes. There’s nothing like a good milk shake,” he declared brightly. “And,” he leaned forward, winking conspiratorially, “it can make sex a little sweeter, you know. Well, if you can get past the fact that it’s so cold. But if the other person is tied up they can’t really stop you, now can they?” Ignoring Ishida’s furiously spluttering and blushing state he asked, “Have you ever kissed a man?”
“No!” For lack of a better question while his brain was feeling like the Shingami had sliced directly through it with his Zanpacktou, Ishida just repeated back, “Have you ever kissed a man?”
“Nope! My turn again~♥! If you’ve never done it, how do you know whether or not you’d like it?”
“I just wouldn’t!”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No!”
“You’re saying you’ve never even thought about it?”
Ishida valiantly tried to gather his thoughts together. And to stop blushing; he was doing that far too often tonight. He drew himself up, did his trademark glasses push, and opened his mouth to deliver a scathing and brilliantly formed retort. “You’re so fucking gay.” Oops, that wasn’t it.
“Aha, avoiding the question! So you have!”
Ishida groaned in frustration and slumped back on the couch, pulling his glasses off and closing his eyes to rub the bridge of his nose. Eyes still closed he sighed and admitted, “Yes, I have thought about it, just like I’ve also thought about what it would be like to go sky diving. It doesn’t mean I’d do either of them.”
“Are you sure?” a voice asked softly beside him.
Ishida jumped about a foot both up and sideways, whirling, and jamming his glasses back on as quickly as he could. Somehow Urahara had silently moved to his couch, sitting crosslegged only a few inches away, looking at him seriously.
“What the hell! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Urahara just tilted his head to the side and kept regarding Ishida. “Are you sure?” he repeated.
“Yes!!”
Urahara shrugged, a slight smile playing across his face. “A shame,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to run two fingers lightly along the side of Ishida’s jaw, from just below the ear to the tip of his chin. “You’re quite attractive you know. I wouldn’t mind doing a little experimenting with you.” A hint of a teasing gleam flashed from the shaded eyes. His hand slid to cup the side of Ishida’s face and he leaned slightly closer.
Ishida was so shocked he didn’t even try to move. His heart felt like it stopped the instant Urahara had touched him, and the skin on his arms had erupted in prickling goose-flesh as the hand had slid ever so slowly and feather-light along his jaw. Now his breath was coming quickly and shallowly, and his eyes widened. The thought filtered through his head that Urahara looked like he was going to kiss him and the idea made him tingle from head to toe.
Then Urahara just patted the side of his face lightly and grinned. “If you ever change your mind, Ishida-kun, let me know!~ ♥”
Bouncing to his feet Urahara scooped the empty sake bottles off the table and headed for the kitchen. Ishida sagged forward with a gasp, eyes staring incredulously after the shopkeeper’s back. Then he hurriedly scrambled off the couch and unsteadily headed for the closest hiding place he could think of: the bathroom.
Hastily shutting and locking the door he leaned back against it, panting and bewildered. What the hell had just happened?
His mind helpfully supplied Urahara-san just hit on you and you thought he was going to kiss you and you liked it.
Ishida just stood there, as that information slowly percolated through his mind.
“Guess that confirms I like guys,” he muttered. “Though if he was human, he’d be olde enough to be my father. But he’s a Shinigami, so he’s a hell of a lot older than that.”
And he found he didn’t really care. More than that, he actually found the idea rather interesting. There was something to be said for experience.
Straightening with a deep breath he figured since he was in the bathroom he might as well use it and try not to think too hard about anything else. Urahara had left him alone, after all. He didn’t think he had to worry about him pushing the issue. He grimaced as he realized that in a way he wished Urahara had continued. Part of him really was curious.
When he was done he washed his hands and splashed water on his face, trying to sober up a little bit. He was finding he had to pay careful attention to anything he was trying to do. The edges of his perception were fuzzy and he could only concentrate on one thing at a time.
Opening the door to the bathroom Ishida stepped out and nearly ran into Urahara, who was just walking up. He tripped on his own feet as he tried to avoid stepping on Urahara’s and the only thing that saved him from a bruising encounter with the floor was one of Urahara’s arms snaking around his stomach to catch him.
With a gasp Ishida tried to straighten, grabbing hold of Urahara’s shoulder while gaining his footing again. Then he froze, suddenly realizing one of Urahara’s arms was still wrapped around his waist from the front, he was holding onto the shopkeeper’s opposite shoulder, and they were only a hand’s breadth apart at most. Jerking his head upward his eyes flicked across the older man’s face. Urahara was watching him carefully, eyes shadowed and unreadable.
Ishida tipped his head back and licked his lips nervously, hand tightening on Urahara’s shoulder. The shopkeeper seemed to take that as a positive indication, because he tipped his head down, pausing only when his lips were so close to Ishida’s that they could feel each other’s breath, the brim of his old, felt hat brushing Ishida’s forehead. With a strangled gasp Ishida surged up, eliminating the last distance.
Ishida had kissed a reasonable number of people given his age, though it wasn’t a very large number either. He at least had enough experience to quickly realize that Urahara was definitely a very good kisser. Lips moved and guided his open and a wet, quick tongue darted into his mouth, searching and teasing before retreating again. Urahara’s other hand rose to stroke Ishida’s neck, running behind his ear and under his jaw.
Finally they broke apart, Ishida panting and Urahara with a small grin on his face.
Ishida glared. “Don’t look so smug.”
“Why not?” Urahara asked innocently. “I’ve confirmed my hypothesis.”
A snort was his only answer. That and a hand raised to run over the skin visible through his loose clothes.
“That’s more than a kiss, Ishida-kun,” Urahara said in amusement.
“You’re the one that wanted to experiment,” Ishida declared brazenly, running his hand lower, pushing the fabric aside so he could touch more of Urahara’s chest. “And you’re the one that got me completely drunk. Deal with it.”
Urahara leaned closer, lips brushing an ear framed by black hair. “Be careful what you ask for, Ishida-kun.” The only response he received was a gasp and Ishida leaning forward to press fully against him. The Quincy’s hands drifted downward across skin and cloth until they came to rest at Urahara’s waist, tugging at the tie there. Slightly larger hands covered his to stop him and Urahara purred into his ear, “Not here. I was coming to tell you I made up a futon in a spare room for you. I suggest retiring there if you’re having the urge to undress me.” The words were emphasized by lips closing teasingly on his ear.
Ishida gasped, “Yes,” and then gave a yelp of surprise as the warm, firm support he’d been leaning on disappeared and he was dragged by a wrist along the length of the house, stumbling and trying to keep his footing.
The next thing Ishida knew he was pushed through a doorway and then Urahara followed him, closing the door softly behind them. Ishida barely had time to take in a small, mainly-bare room with a futon spread in the center of the floor. Then he was pulled closer again, Urahara’s hands slipping up the back of his shirt to carefully stroke his lower back, lips meeting his again. In response Ishida’s hands slid again to tug at Urahara’s clothing, finally getting the shopkeeper’s shirt open so he could run hands up and down the smooth lines of chest and stomach and sides. Everything was as firm and delightful to touch as he had imagined it would be. One hand drifted along the waist of Urahara’s pants, fiddling with the dusting of light hair that led teasingly from navel to still-hidden places. He hesitated for a second, then threw caution to the wind and slid his hand down along the front of the fabric. A pleased gasp and hips pressing forward were Urahara’s responses.
The shopkeeper ceased his exploration of Ishida’s mouth to pull back, what was visible of his face briefly serious. “At any point, tell me to stop and I will. Understand?”
Ishida nodded, a faint blush reaching his cheeks at the implication that Urahara had in mind things that might make him want to say ‘stop.’
Then the shopkeeper’s grin was back and he pushed Ishida’s shirt and undershirt up as far as he could, hands running along sides and thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. He also started moving his mouth along Ishida’s neck, trying to find the spots where the Quincy was the most sensitive. Ishida for his part gasped and tugged at Urahara’s clothes, trying to get the other man to stop long enough to slide out of his robe and shirt. Without pausing his kissing and suckling at Ishida’s neck, the shopkeeper shrugged first one and then the other arm free, immediately returning them to caressing Ishida’s chest.
Then he wiggled one of his hands down inside the back of Ishida’s pants, cupping and pulling their bodies closer together. Ishida gasped and desperately tried to figure out by touch how to get Urahara’s pants open.
“Impatient, Ishida-kun?” Urahara giggled, giving a playful squeeze. Then he lifted both hands up to pull firmly at Ishida’s shirts. The Quincy raised his arms, helping to wiggle out of them.
As soon as the cloth was tossed to the side, Urahara pressed forward insistently, lips teasing now-bare flesh, hands circling Ishida’s waist, and his victim stumbled backwards under the onslaught.
Ishida squawked indignantly as a leg snaked behind his knee, tripping him. Urahara grinned as he caught the lighter man and then lowered him to the blankets, following after to lay on top.
“Wait!” Ishida gasped and Urahara froze, a disappointed expression fleeting across his face. “This thing goes first,” and fingers reached up to pull at the brim of his hat.
Urahara clasped one hand protectively to the top of his head. “Is that really necessary, Ishida-kun?” he asked innocently.
“Yes. Lose the hat.”
“But I like my hat.”
Ishida snorted and looped a leg up over Urahara’s. “You don’t need it right now. Lose the hat or we stop.”
With a lengthy sigh Urahara slowly lowered his hand. Ishida grinned and again raised fingers to lift the brim of the white and green hat. His eyes curiously searched the face above and widened as he pulled the hat completely off, flicking it off into some other part of the room. Urahara with his hat was interesting and reasonably good looking and tantalizingly mysterious (if also rather disreputable looking). Urahara without his hat … Ishida ran fingers along the stubbly jaw, then up to eyebrows and through sandy-colored hair. This Urahara was downright rakishly handsome.
Urahara spoiled the effect with one of his ridiculous, face-splitting grins. “Like what you see?” he giggled, bending down for another kiss. Ishida moaned and fisted the back of the shaggy hair.
Leaning on one elbow, Urahara used his other hand to tug at both of their pants. Ishida’s fingers joined his, pulling urgently. Finally a zipper moved down and ties were undone and hands shoved cloth along legs, kicking and pushing their last coverings off.
Ishida gasped. He’d never imagined that another man’s erection sliding against his could feel so good. Well, he’d never imagined it, period. Either way, the feeling was smooth and firm, steel covered in silk. He pulled at Urahara’s back, groaning and pressing and moving against him.
The older man slid his hand between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around their erections, making sure they slid together as he pressed his hips forward.
Ishida gasped, arching, delighting in something that felt so good. The feeling only intensified as Urahara dragged his lips across Ishida’s face and neck, finally latching with bruising intensity onto the junction between shoulder and neck.
The lips released only to whisper, “So, is this enough, or do you want more?”
“More? What do you mean?” Ishida gasped, hazily trying to concentrate on the concept.
“M~o~r~e, Ishida-kun,” Urahara sing-songed merrily. He let go of their erections and starting wiggling down Ishida’s body, kissing a trail as he went. “More-” sucking on a nipple “like-” kissing down the center of the lean chest “this-” tongue dipping into navel “and-” hand running over both hips “like this!~” right before he drew Ishida’s erection into his mouth.
Ishida yelped and bucked upwards, hard. The hands on his hips effortlessly stopped him and he whimpered in shock and ecstasy. From where Urahara’s mouth touched him, tingling tremors were running throughout his whole body, and he writhed and moaned, not caring what he sounded like. He pushed harder with his hips, trying to find more pleasure, to go deeper. It was warm and wet and alternated so many amazing feelings, both suction and sliding and the feel of an incredibly agile tongue sliding all over him.
No matter how hard he struggled to raise his hips, Urahara’s hands stopped him. The large, warm hands splayed over his hips, thumbs running in gentle circles over the junction of leg and pelvis. It was both torture and bliss to be completely out of control, to be at the shopkeeper’s mercy.
One of the firm hands lifted. Ishida was so focused on the touch of Urahara’s mouth, head spinning from the sensation, that it took him several very long moments to notice when the fingers returned, sliding up the cleft between his buttocks, finding and settling on a small pucker of skin.
“Oh!” he gasped, jerking from head to toe at the feeling.
Urahara lifted his head, fingers briefly leaving their work. “Yes, this too, Ishida-kun,” his voice chuckled, and then the mouth and the fingers were back. But now the fingers were slick and wet. They teased and pressed and Ishida was frantic now, beside himself with need. He wanted more, he needed more, even without knowing what ‘more’ meant. When the slick finger suddenly pressed more firmly and slid inside in a way so completely alien and yet perfectly sensual, Ishida cried out loudly. Hands that had clutched the blankets until now raised and clamped into Urahara’s hair, yanking the shopkeeper’s head down as hard as he could.
With only a muffled noise of surprise, Urahara slid down all the way, smoothly taking every inch of Ishida into his mouth. As if in retribution, his finger moved deeper inside the Quincy, then was joined by a second.
Ishida felt his orgasm approaching and then surging through him, intense in flashes of light and pleasure, touching every inch of his skin and drawing every fiber of his being down to one intense spot in his belly. Then he was releasing, yanking again and again on Urahara’s hair and crying out incoherently, desperately.
Then the wave passed and his hands dropped away limply. Urahara pulled off with a great deal of coughing and gasping, spitting several times into his hand.
“Ishida-kun,” he exclaimed reproachfully, “you didn’t have to try and choke me!” Ishida just gazed at him uncomprehendingly, still breathless and trembling. He saw an wicked grin start to spread across the handsome face. “Oh well. You can pay me back by helping me finish.”
Then Urahara’s hand was pressed to him again, now slick with both his spit and Ishida’s come. Ishida moaned, so limp and relaxed and that he didn’t even realize that Urahara had slid three fingers inside of him instead of the previous two, pushing deeper and deeper. He moaned lightly, barely moving, twitching a little as the sensation caused echoes of orgasm to brush his nerves.
“Perfect,” the shopkeeper murmured, finding Ishida completely open and ready for him. Ishida’s eyes widened as he saw Urahara sit back on his heels, using the last of the mess on his hand to stroke his erection. It suddenly occurred to him just what was going on.
Before he had time to do more than gasp, Urahara had bent forward, grabbing and flipping Ishida onto his stomach, pulling him closer and spreading his legs. Those fingers were back again, and Ishida felt concern and nervousness fly away, unable to occupy the same space in his head as the returning pleasure. Chest pressed to the futon, ass in the air, he moaned. “Do it!”
Urahara didn’t hesitate. Ishida felt a blunt pressure against his ass and then suddenly he was being stretched again - similar to the fingers but oh so much better - and then filled.
If Ishida had been in his usual, logical frame of mind, he might have cataloged and considered this sensation, deciding that ‘full’ and ‘powerful’ and ‘incredible’ were all good words to describe it. However, he was not. There was only one word that came to mind and he started moaning it in time with the Shinigami’s shallow thrusts. “More!”
Urahara responded with a happy sound, gradually increasing the depth and fierceness of his thrusts. Ishida felt the Shinigami’s hands shift his hips a little bit, then a little bit more. Urahara gave one final pull and the next thrust sent an electric tingle shooting through the Ishida’s body. The Quincy gave a cry of surprise and pleasure, jerking all over in reaction.
Unbelievably, Ishida felt himself growing hard again. That shouldn’t be possible, it shouldn’t be happening, but oh, as another thrust caused that strange pulse of pleasure to run through him, it was.
Once again Ishida found himself completely out of control, unable to do more than just obey the wordless commands of Urahara’s body. When Urahara’s chest pressed against his back, one hand slipping around his waist to catch his bobbing erection, Ishida didn’t know whether to press back against the delicious invasion or forward into the smoothly stroking hand. Caught between the two forces he heard one wordless, pleasured noise after another leave his throat, heard and felt the smack of Urahara’s flesh against his own, and slowly spiraled back up to his second orgasm.
As Ishida found his release, Urahara was dragged into his own. Unlike Ishida’s first time, this time it was Urahara who was in control and the one who suddenly thrust deeper, more demandingly, quicker and more staccato, until with one last driving thrust he plunged into Ishida and froze there. Hands grabbed hips and he pulled the Quincy against him, trying to press deeper than was physically possible, body trembling and twitching through burst after burst of release.
The shopkeeper gave a last gasp and then suddenly went limp. With a happy groan, Urahara simultaneously fell forward and rolled sideways, ending up on his back by Ishida. Lazily reaching out he pulled the other closer, hugging the leaner body to his chest. He somehow managing to get the blanket tugged out from under their bodies and pulled it over them both, ignoring the damp patches on it.
“Mmm,” he hummed, gently kissing the Quincy’s face. “I hope Ishida-kun might want to do that again sometime? Because for a first time, you were delightful.”
Ishida blushed. “Maybe. You too. But … how did you know what to do? You said you hadn’t even kissed another man before.”
“I lied~♥!” Urahara declared cheerfully. At Ishida’s outraged squawk he just giggled and kissed the other’s lips. “Go to sleep, Ishida-kun. Wake me if you happen to notice the sunrise.” Then the shopkeeper nestled more comfortably into the futon, pulling Ishida to his chest and almost instantly starting to breath deeply and evenly.
Ishida considered hitting the shopkeeper or trying to pry further details out of him. However, thick, sated exhaustion won out before he could have more than a brief thought of either and he fell asleep pillowed on Urahara’s chest.
~~<>~~
A/N - *ahem* I am incapable of writing anything but porn. So sad. Oh well, hopefully you enjoyed. -_-; Comments/critiques always appreciated.