Shades of Grey (chapter 3)
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: Shades of Grey (chapter 3)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: IchigoxUrahara
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, graphic content, spoilers
Summary: The sequel to ‘Falling Into Darkness' - Ichigo never asked to be either loved or fixed, he just asked to be distracted. (previous chapters)
Notes: If you haven’t read ‘Falling Into Darkness’ then I highly recommend you do, it’s not an absolute requirement, but it will give a better perspective on the events of this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo, I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
…We All Fall Down
The closer Ichigo got to home the slower he walked. It wasn’t something he was doing consciously; it was just a weariness that seemed to settle over him. If Karin noticed she didn’t say anything, she merely shoved her hands into her pockets and matched his pace. The sun was still up, though it was starting to graze the city skyline, stretching the shadows out like fingers across the ground. Ichigo huffed, kicking at a rock in his path and scowling menacingly at nothing in particular.
“Dinner should be ready by the time we get home,” Karin noted, looking off into the horizon. “Yuzu said she was going to make something special.”
“Was she okay at school?” He brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck.
“She was after awhile.” Karin turned to look at him. “She was trying to ignore the fight so she wasn’t really listening to what you two were yelling about. I think she’s convinced herself it was just a louder version of your same old shit. That’s why she’s making a big dinner; she thinks it’ll put you in a better mood or something.”
“You think she’d notice if we slipped some pills in dad’s food?” Ichigo smirked. “Then it might actually work.”
Karin snorted, “If it were that easy I’d have tried it years ago…on both of you.”
Whatever reply he might have made died on his lips because they’d arrived back home and he suddenly didn’t find it amusing anymore. He came to a complete stop, staring at the door and wondering if it was too late to change his mind. Karin, in a show of both support and insistence, linked her arm with his and dragged him forward.
“You’ll take Yuzu if things get bad?” He pulled her to a stop, hand resting on the knob.
“Yeah.” Her eyes hardened slightly.
He took a deep breath and slid his mask of indifference into place before opening the door and stepping through. They found both their father and sister in the kitchen, setting up for dinner.
“I thought I told you to come straight home after school.” Isshin snapped; apparently already well on his way to a foul mood.
“Yeah, well I wanted to talk to Ichi-nii for awhile and I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” Karin stepped between them, glaring at her father.
His eyes slid from his son to his daughter before he seemed to notice the nervous tension radiating from Yuzu. “You come home when you’re told,” he muttered, turning to take the dishes that she'd been trying to hand him.
Dinner was the most uncomfortable affair that any of them had experienced in a long while. For Yuzu’s sake they tried for polite conversation, but all it amounted to was thinly veiled barbs and underlying hostilities. The strain was nearly unbearable and after awhile even Yuzu fell into silence, staring down into her food. Karin decided that this marked the final breakdown in the whole fiasco and quietly excused herself, dragging her miserable sister along behind her.
“Well that was fun,” Ichigo muttered to himself, stacking dishes to carry to the sink.
"You see how you’re hurting your sisters?” Isshin had propped his elbows on the table, hard eyes following Ichigo as he moved around the room.
“Don’t start that shit,” Ichigo snapped, “You’re the one who spent the whole time glaring at me like some sort of psycho.”
Isshin opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, taking a deep breath before starting fresh. “Could you come here and sit down, please?”
Ichigo eyes him suspiciously, but complied. It was worth it just to keep his father somewhat calm so as not to worry the girls.
“I think we got started badly, and now it’s just gotten out of hand. We should be able to talk like adults here.” Isshin's reasonable words were belied by the fact that the muscles in his jaw were jumping under the tension.
“Okay.” Ichigo cocked an eyebrow at him. “Talk.”
Isshin gritted his teeth, “Your attitude lately seems a bit self-destructive and I’m really worried about you.”
Ichigo snorted. “Gods, could you be anymore cliché?”
“I mean it, Ichigo, your behavior in the past few weeks is completely unacceptable and it has to stop.” Isshin seemed to be struggling with his composure, the color rising in his cheeks.
“Fuck, dad, have you been reading parenting books again?” Ichigo sounded morbidly amused, “Do you think I’m hiding drugs in my closet or porn under my bed? Are you going to hold an intervention?”
“I think things can happen that leave a boy open to suggestion.” Isshin was staring at him with fever bright eyes. “It can make him more vulnerable; an easier target for people who don’t have his best interests at heart.”
“You just can’t leave it alone, can you?” Ichigo shook his head in disgust. “Why do I always have to be a victim to you?”
“Because you’re 17, and you went through something awful and now everything is all mixed up in your head.” Isshin had switched to his false understanding voice. “It’s easy to see how you could fall into something like this, how you might even think it’s how love should be.”
“I don’t love Kisuke.” Ichigo scoffed, eyes cold and hard. “I like to talk to him, I like being around him, I love the way he makes me feel, but I’m not deluding myself that I’m in love with him.”
“So what is it then? Is it just sex?” he snapped. “That’s not a good enough reason to hurt yourself like this. ”
“You, apparently, have never fucked Kisuke.” Ichigo sneered, tired of the repetitive arguments and angling for a fight. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be calling it just sex.”
Isshin flushed with anger. “Don’t you talk to me like that; I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.”
“Looks like I hit a nerve there, dad.” Ichigo snarled viciously, leaning forward to plant his elbows on the table. “Don’t tell me you actually have fucked him. Hm…no? Maybe you just wanted to. Is that it?”
Isshin surged to his feet, chair falling back with a deafening clatter. “You think this is a joke? This is your life and you’re throwing it away on some dysfunctional pervert.”
“For fuck sake, what do you think is going on here? Do you think I’m pregnant or something?” Ichigo laughed, bitter and mocking. “How exactly is this, of all things, going to ruin my life?”
“How can you sit there and laugh about this.” Isshin raged, “You need to get help, get better, have a normal life. All you’re doing is digging yourself deeper into trouble and you don’t even care.”
“You know, someone really smart once said ‘Fuck normal - we passed on that a long time ago’, and I’m starting to think she was right.” Ichigo felt the bitterness loosen at the thought of Karin. “The whole thing just seems overrated.”
Isshin balked at him for a moment, “You can’t mean that.”
“Of course I mean it, I’ve been able to see ghosts practically my whole life and I’ve been a human Shinigami since I was 15. When has normal ever been part of my life?” Ichigo’s voice was cold as he slouched back into his chair, daring his father to disagree.
“Well you have a chance now.” Isshin pleaded.
“I don’t want your chance.” Ichigo sneered up at him, “I would never turn my back on being a Shinigami just so I could run around and play normal. That’s your style not mine.”
“You don’t owe them anything.” Isshin’s voice rose on every word as he warmed to the new topic. “They’ve done nothing but drag you into their own problems since you first met them.”
“I might not owe them anything but I would give them everything.” Ichigo was on his feet now, too, his voice dangerously low. “I’ve laughed with them and I’ve bled with them. Some of my best friends are Shinigami, and I would die for any one of them.”
“It seems like all you do is bleed for them.” Isshin shouted at him. “If they cared about you they wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
“There you go with the victim shit again.” Ichigo yelled, slamming his fist down in frustration. “No one’s done anything to me, not Kisuke and not the Shinigami.”
“They dragged you off to a war that you had no business being a part of.” Isshin roared. “It had nothing to do with you.”
“It had everything to do with me!” Ichigo could feel his reiatsu starting to snap and clamped down hard, not wanting to worry his sister. “I chose to be there. I was there when it started and I believed in what we were doing. We all believed in what we were doing.”
“Whole lot of good that belief did,” his father snarled, lost in his rage. “You’re so fucked up you can’t tell right from wrong and half of your friends are dead. Where’s the higher cause in that?”
“Don’t you ever mention them again.” The threads of his control were slipping fast. “You have no right to talk about anyone who fought and died so that you didn’t have to, you ungrateful fuck.”
Isshin seemed to recognize that he was on dangerous ground because he started to backpedal. “I didn’t mean it like that, son, I just want to help you but you won’t let me in.”
“You can’t help me.” Ichigo was like ice.
“I realize that, which is why I’ve signed you up with a therapist.” Isshin snapped at him, still angry but starting to think more clearly.
“You did what?” Ichigo hissed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“You need to talk to someone who can help,” he stated plainly, like it made some sort of sense to him. “Someone who isn’t just using you for sex.” He added when he saw Ichigo was going to argue.
“I can’t talk to a therapist about this shit. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, no one would believe it.” His anger was lost in the face of his incredulity. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Isshin just glared at him. “You’re going and that’s final.”
“Okay, fine, I’ll go tell your therapist about all the people I killed in a spirit war fought between invisible enemies.” Ichigo laughed hysterically, his eyes flashing. “Or how about I tell him about the crazy hollow that lives in my head and lends me his power when things get tough. What do you think he’ll prescribe for that?”
Isshin didn’t look amused and Ichigo false smile fell away as he stalked towards his father with a look of stony indifference. “How about I just tell him how my dad's a fucking hypocrite because he was fucking my mom when she was only 23 and he’s as old as Kisuke. He’s worse, in fact, because I bet he was lying to her about being a Shinigami just like he lied to the rest of us for all of those years.”
There was a sharp crack as a hand connected with Ichigo’s cheek, snapping his neck around. He’d seen it coming but had done nothing to stop it. He relished the sharp sting.
“I…” Isshin looked stunned, frozen in place, hand still raised.
“Good to see we’re talking like adults.” Ichigo quipped, licking blood from the corner of his mouth as he turned away.
Isshin still hadn’t moved, eyes wide with horror. “Ichigo…I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t worry, dad, you hit like a bitch.” Ichigo didn’t look back as he stalked out of the room and up the stairs.
Karin was standing in the hall leaning against her door when he passed. He could hear loud music blasting behind her and he hoped it had been enough to drown out the noise.
“You alright?” she asked, eyeing him critically.
“Fuck if I know.” He shrugged, leaning his head against his own door, and staring at the ground.
“Yuzu didn’t hear anything. I turned up the music and made her teach me how to dance.”
“That’s good,” he sighed.
“You owe me for having to dance,” she pointed out dryly and he couldn’t help but smirk.
“You better get back before she misses you.” He still didn’t look up but she didn’t take it personally.
“Goodnight, Ichi-nii.” She turned the knob on her door and stepped through.
“Night, Karin.” he muttered, stepping into the darkness of his own room.
He closed the door but didn’t bother to turn on the light. He only made it a couple of steps before his willpower failed him and he slumped against the closet, sliding down until he found the floor. He felt like he was crawling in his own skin, like he was trapped and couldn’t get out. He was angry, and bitter, and he just wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands until the rage gave way to exhaustion but he couldn’t find the energy to get back up.
There was a little click and the light by his bed came on, revealing someone waiting for the second time that day. Urahara sat cross-legged, leaning against the wall, idly rolling Benihime against his thigh. He’d removed his hat and was regarding Ichigo with mild interest through the pale locks of hair spilling into his face.
“I didn’t feel you up here.” Ichigo leaned his head back against the closet door.
“Your father isn’t the only one who can move without being detected,” he pointed out mildly.
“Were you worried about me?” Ichigo cocked an eyebrow.
“Indirectly.” The corner of his mouth tugged upward.
“You were worried that I was going to do something dangerous.” Ichigo rolled his eyes and turned away, looking off into the corner.
He didn’t hear Urahara move but suddenly he was there, kneeling between his feet. Cool fingers closed around his jaw, turning his face further towards the dim light.
“He hit you?” Urahara's voice was deadly soft as his thumb smeared the trickle of blood on his lip.
“It doesn’t matter.” Ichigo leaned into him. “You’ve done worse during training.”
“I’ve never hit you out of anger.” He frowned, his eyes hard.
“I didn’t say you did,” Ichigo murmured, tongue flicking out over the pad of his thumb. “I just said it didn’t matter.”
Urahara’s look said that it did matter, but he let it drop. He leaned forward, tongue snaking out to trace the blood back to its source, drawing a hiss from Ichigo as it stung the split. Lips parted and another tongue darted out to meet his, spreading the faint tang of copper as they curled together. Urahara drew back slowly, his thumb returning to apply pressure to the lip, stemming any further flow of blood.
“You’re my favorite nurse,” Ichigo mumbled against the digit.
Urahara just smirked, holding the pressure for a minute longer before finally releasing him and sitting back.
“Did you hear it all?” Ichigo asked quietly, dropping his eyes.
“Not all of it, but some,” he admitted.
“He wants me to see a therapist,” Ichigo scoffed.
Urahara raised an eyebrow, he’d missed that part. “A human therapist?”
“Exactly!” Ichigo exclaimed, eyes darting back up to meet the green-grey ones still fixed on him. “It’s like he’s fucking lost his mind.”
“He’s worried about you and he doesn’t know what to do. That makes people act strangely sometimes.” Urahara explained, pale brows drawn together.
“You always defend him,” Ichigo pointed out softly, without any real heat.
“Not always.” The gaze fell to his lip briefly before returning to his eyes. “But I understand his position on many things. We were friends for a very long time.”
Ichigo’s shoulders slumped forward as he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He placed his fingers against Urahara’s chest and pushed gently in a wordless request. The older man eyed him warily but complied, sliding backwards. Ichigo followed, rolling onto his knees and pushing them both down onto the ground. He hovered over Urahara while the other man arranged himself, and then dropped into a graceless sprawl across him, head tucked into the crook of his neck.
Urahara relaxed marginally when he Ichigo made no further move, content to just lay there. He wrapped his arms around the smaller frame, resting his cheek against the soft mess of hair. One of Ichigo’s hands was against his neck, stroking softly while his breath stirred the hair behind his ear.
“I’m tired of fighting,” he murmured, lips moving against pale skin.
“I know,” Urahara sighed, running a hand up his back.
“Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?” There seemed to be a bit of tongue mixed in with the words on his neck that time.
Urahara’s eyes shifted, regarding the top of the orange head suspiciously. “Well it might help if you stopped antagonizing people, hollows, and evil super powers every chance you got.”
“I suppose,” Ichigo conceded and there was definitely a swirl of tongue behind his ear.
“Ichigo,” Urahara warned, pulling back a little to look at him.
“Why is it that you can calm me down, no matter how mad I get?” Ichigo murmured, turning his head to trail open mouthed kisses along his scruffy jaw.
“I’m a man of many talents,” he smirked, letting his head fall back as the lips slid down his throat.
“I already knew that.” Ichigo’s voice had gone soft and husky, a sound that went straight to Urahara’s cock.
“That’s enough, Ichigo,” he panted, remembering where they were and why this was the worst idea possible.
The younger man raised half-lidded eyes to meet his, gnawing gently on his soft lower lip. “What’s wrong, Kisuke?” his voice was like sex, hot and thick, and full of a hundred dark promises.
Urahara groaned, shutting his eyes against the shiver that ran up his spine. “You know what’s wrong; don’t try that tone on me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smirked, leaning forward to run his tongue over Urahara’s bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth and tugging it gently with his teeth.
The blond gasped as Ichigo kissed him thoroughly, lips moving in a slow caress as a tongue pressed forward to coax a response from his own. His arms slid back around the lean body as Ichigo settled further on top of him, pouring himself into the kiss. A hand slipped under his neck while the other traced his ear and he felt his mind shutting down, drunk on the taste and feel of the young, eager body. He pushed forward, following the tongue back into that willing mouth, moaning as Ichigo greedily sucked him in deeper. Hips pressed down, grinding into him and he broke away gasping.
“We can’t do this, not here,” he panted, stalling Ichigo with two fingers when he tried to return to the kiss. “You’re father is still downstairs and he already has far too many reasons to kill me.”
Ichigo smirked against his fingers, opening his mouth to draw them inside. Urahara had to grit his teeth to keep from moaning out loud as he rolled them with him tongue, sucking hard in a way that seemed to set him on fire. Ichigo released the fingers, sliding forward until his mouth brushed the lobe of Urahara’s ear.
“I want to suck you off right here in the middle of my floor, Kisuke.” His breath was hot as he nipped the soft skin.
Urahara gasped, his fingers closing tight on the younger man's hips. “Gods, Ichigo, that’s such a bad idea.”
“But you like it,” he accused, continuing his slow torture on the sensitive flesh. “You like the thought of burying your fingers in my hair while I swallow you deep in the middle of my bedroom. You’re aching to watch my mouth on you, to feel me moaning around your cock because you taste so fucking good. You want to have to bite your lip so hard it bleeds to keep from screaming when you come down my throat.”
Urahara whimpered, his hips thrusting involuntarily into the body pressed against him. “Ichigo, please…”
“Please what, Kisuke.” He thrust down to meet him. “Do you want me to stop or do you want me to wrap my lips around you and torture you until your eyes roll back in your head and you forget your own name? “ He was panting hard. “I want to feel you writhing and moaning under me; I want to feel you shuddering in my mouth.”
Slender fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him roughly to meet glittering, pale eyes. “You’re going to hell someday,” Urahara growled before shoving him lower.
Ichigo had his shirt untied and open before he’d even settled in, fingers rolling a nipple as he mouthed his erection through his pants. Urahara arched against him, straining for more contact than the cloth would allow. Ichigo's other hand was working the tie, pulling it free and Urahara lifted his hips to allow the pants to slide away.
“Take off your shirt, I want to see you,” he commanded softly, groaning as hot fingers closed over his arousal.
Ichigo yanked it roughly over his head, throwing it over his shoulder before bending down to lick him from base to tip. One hand settled in the orange hair as the pink tongue darted out to swirl around the weeping head. Urahara hissed and Ichigo chuckled darkly before opening his mouth to take him in. His hips surged up sharply and fingers dug in to keep them still. Ichigo hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard, tongue stroking a steady rhythm against the throbbing vein.
Urahara threw his head back, biting his lip as a moan hitched in his throat. Ichigo wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, matching the rhythm of his lips and tongue. Urahara’s hips jerked harder and Ichigo let him slide further in, moaning around him as he increased his pace. Both hands were in his hair now and he slipped his fingers lower to ghost across his scrotum, relaxing his throat to take him in deep.
“Oh, fuck!” Urahara groaned brokenly, drawing a knee up slightly as he thrust helplessly forward. Ichigo moaned again, matching the pace as he fucked his mouth, rolling his balls gently and swallowing around the hot length pushing into his throat.
He slid his free hand down, unbuttoning his own pants and pulling himself free. His fingers closed around his own erection and he felt a shudder pass through him and up through Urahara. He raised his head a little and found the older man watching him with dark, hungry eyes. He pulled back, sucking hard, tongue dancing against the velvet flesh and watched the pale eyelashes flutter. He was pumping himself hard now, wringing moans from his own throat that vibrated through Urahara drawing out matching little cries.
He could tell the other man was close because the hands in his hair were getting painful as Urahara strained against him. He dipped back down, swallowing him fully, mouth and throat working hard and fast. Urahara made a strangled groaning noise as he fell back against the ground, biting down hard on his already bruised lip. Ichigo’s rhythm was starting to falter as he pumped himself, his own release building with every stroke.
“I-Ichigo," Urahara gasped roughly, and it was all the warning he got as the blond arched upward, cock pulsing in his mouth, shooting jets of come down his throat. He swallowed convulsively, milking him as he tried not to choke, feeling a dribble roll off his lip and down his chin.
Before the tremors had even subsided the hand in his hair yanked him roughly into a crushing kiss. A tongue swept into his mouth, possessing him as fingers slipped into his pants to cover his own. Urahara stroked him hard, drinking his cries like they were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He shuddered violently and Urahara twisted his hand, sending pleasure spiking through him. He cried out, the sound lost in the kiss, as he came hard, pulsing over their joined hands and onto the pale stomach beneath him.
Urahara broke the kiss slowly, releasing his hair and falling back onto the floor. Weak and shaking, Ichigo fell beside him; still half dressed, their legs tangling together. They lay curled against each other, panting and exhausted, for several long moments before Urahara finally found his voice.
“You are such a bad influence.” He pressed a kiss against a sweat damp temple.
“I know,” Ichigo chuckled weakly, “I keep telling my dad that I’m the one molesting you, but he won’t listen.”
“Ugh, you just had to bring him up…Isshin would kill me in so many horrible ways if he could see me right now,” he grumbled half heartedly, sitting up a little and eyeing the mess on his stomach with mild distaste.
Ichigo winced, his face falling a bit. “Sorry, I just-” but Urahara cut him off with a soft kiss.
“I was teasing…sort of.” He traced a thumb over the younger man’s sharp cheekbone. “Don’t apologize.”
Urahara found Ichigo’s discarded shirt and used it to clean himself up before rearranging his clothes. Sliding back over to where the younger man lay he brushed the hair back from his face, leaning over him until their noses were almost touching.
“Are you still angry?” he asked softly, staring down into the half closed, chocolate eyes.
“I don’t know, maybe a little,” Ichigo admitted, rubbing his nose against Urahara’s. “Are you still feeling guilty?”
“All the time,” he confessed, his voice soft against Ichigo’s lips.
“We’re really fucked up, do you know that?” The younger man smirked, planting a chaste kiss on the mouth hovering over his own.
Urahara stifled a sound of amusement as he straightened up. “Trust me; I am aware of that fact.”
“Will you stay?” Ichigo asked softly, watching him roll to his feet.
“You know I can’t.” Urahara shook his head in mild exasperation.
“Just for awhile?” Ichigo sat up, stripping his pants away and readjusting his boxers.
Urahara stared hard at him for a moment, weighing his options against their potential consequences. He extended his consciousness and found that even Isshin had retreated to the confines of his room by now. He sighed heavily and Ichigo must have taken it for consent because he stood, steering them both towards the bed.
There wasn’t a whole lot of extra room but it didn’t matter because Ichigo curled around him like a second skin. Urahara ran a hand up Ichigo’s naked back, following some pattern that only he understood as the remaining tension began to slip out of the tight muscles. After awhile Ichigo started to talk, sharing the details of the fight with Isshin and his own feelings about it. They lay there for a long time, deep in conversation, punctuated by soft caresses. Ichigo wasn’t looking for answers, he just wanted to vent and Urahara knew all the right things to say. It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly didn’t feel like therapy, but it was what Ichigo wanted. It was that ever present sense of good enough.