[fic] Artistry, Part 1(?)
Title: Artistry
Author: Kali
Series: Bleach
Pairing: Urahara/Ryuuken/Isshin
Rating: R for... well, R.
Chapter: Part 1 of 2 (maybe?)
Disclaimer: If I owned any anime, noone would ever wear clothes. Thusly, I don't own Bleach. ;)
A/N: This is a very, very, very overdue present for thenakedcat, inspired by real life events our vivid imaginations, of course. Hopefully, I'll be able to bang out some porn for the second half of this; otherwise, here it is.
Many, many thanks to ravengirl76 for the beta! ♥ Also, I'm too impatient to get this up to do a proper self-beta of this; I think I'll smooth everything out when (if?) I post the second part. ^_^
Summary: Ryuuken as a canvas? Not a bad idea.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Urahara Kisuke tended to stay to the shadows, even when in good company; he saw no reason to stand out unless he was needed. Right now, however, he was doubly glad for the cloak of darkness the shadows of the room's corner provided for him. At least, this way, he could hide the raging hard-on generated by the gyrating, glistening, colorfully painted figure of a scantily clad Ishida Ryuuken in the middle of the room. That sight could easily drive a person to insanity, he thought with a chuckle as his hand lazily slid up towards the waist of his pants. Or one Kurosaki Isshin, if the heavy panting and wide eyes were any indication of the Shinigami's quickly-deteriorating sanity.
Kisuke had to admit that, from his seat on the couch, Isshin had a much better view of the drunken, dancing Quincy in front of him; but from his shadowed corner of the small room, he had quite a delicious view himself of what the night's events had become. After a couple bottles of Kisuke's "special" home-brewed sake, the shopkeeper had off-handedly mentioned that there was a bag "full of fun things" near the couch. Isshin, in his drunken state, had sprung to life and bounded towards the bag, nearly breaking a five-pointed coffee table in the process. As a string of aristocratically slurred, reproachful curses filled the air of the rather large living room, the Shinigami tore through the bag. To his surprise and delight, the small bag was filled with brightly colored tubes sporting attached paintbrushes. Kisuke, devilishly chuckling behind his fan, had already begun to recess himself towards the corner of the room, hoping for an amusing night of entertainment.
He was getting quite more than he expected.
After Isshin had discovered that the paints were edible, there was no deterring him from his new game: Paint the Quincy. With only a meek protest, Ryuuken had given a sigh of defeat, and with another large swig of sake straight from the bottle, ordered Isshin onto the couch while he stumbled over to his stereo system. Selecting his set of favorite dancing CDs, he threw them in on repeat. Once the music started, a sly smile crossed his face as he sauntered his way back over to the couch, where Isshin had been eagerly deciding which paints to use first. Only when the shinigami had looked up did he freeze in his rummaging, jaw suddenly slack at the exquisite scene before him; the Quincy rarely smiled, and the sight itself was breathtaking, not to mention the lazy way he was swinging his hips. Kisuke, also enjoying the effects of the sake, sat comfortably in the corner, one hand resting on a propped up knee, while the other lay lazily on his thigh. The duo had seemed to have forgotten about the shopkeeper for now, which didn't bother him in the slightest.
Ryuuken had begun to strip as he made his way to the couch; flinging his tie onto a chair, slowly unbuttoning and peeling off his shirt, and driving Isshin up a wall before even arriving in his lap. Just as Ryuuken was reaching the couch, the excitable shinigami's patience snapped, and he soon found himself being straddled, laying prostrate under strong, calloused hands and lust-filled eyes. While, under normal circumstances, this would have prompted yelling and snide remarks from the Quincy, Ryuuken had instead raised an eyebrow at Isshin, a coy smile curling his lips as his eyes dared the shinigami to do his worst. Well, who was Isshin to turn down such a challenge?
With a flick of his wrist, a tube of body paint was poised and ready over the tasty looking pale expanse of skin below him. However, without once breaking his eyes from the blue pair smirking back at him, Isshin felt for another tube and flung it at the shopkeeper hiding in the shadows. Not one to be easily caught off guard, Kisuke barely managed to catch the tube at the same time he was wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. That had been unexpected.
"You don't expect me to have all the fun here, do you?" Isshin said without looking up, and - well, if the shinigami were to insist, who was a polite shopkeeper to turn down such an invitation? Air was displaced and Kisuke was hovering over Ryuuken's head, tube poised.
"Well now, shall we begin?"
A slight twitch at the cold of the paint was the only indication of any discomfort the Quincy had felt. The two eager artists took great pride in their work, gently brushing bright colors over muscular stretches of skin, smooth, taught muscles, and pert, delicate nipples. Ryuuken sighed at the feel of soft brushes gliding over his skin, the sake in his system enhancing each touch to mind blowing proportions. When he felt Isshin stop to unbutton Ryuuken's pants, he couldn't wriggle out of them fast enough. Once free of trousers, Isshin could barely keep himself from ravishing the edible-looking man; instead, he reached over, took a swig of sake from the bottle, broke open a new paint color, and started inching down the hem of the well-fit blue thong to continue his artistry. Soft light shined off the fresh paints as they glided onto Ryuuken's pelvis, the sharp juts of bone smoothed over by pale skin. As the designs covering his body dried, the paint seemed to take on a sparkly sheen and glow with a light all its own. Ryuuken's eyes suddenly went wide as he sucked in a deep breath and let out what almost sounded like a moan.
"Kisuke... where did you get these paints?" he had asked with the slightest bit of caution, almost afraid of what the answer was going to be.
"Oh, these?" the shopkeeper replied offhandedly, sitting back against the couch to admire his handiwork. "They're just something I... whipped up. Please, don't be alarmed; they're just a bit enhanced, is all. Quite an improvement, if I may say so myself," he added with an air of pride.
As he pushed himself into a sitting position, Ryuuken twisted to face the shopkeeper... or his fan, rather, which was more than likely hiding a sly smile. "And what, pray tell, are these paints enhanced with?" He was surprised by his own tone, though; he didn't sound nearly as angry as he thought he would. In fact, he sounded rather... aroused?
A chuckle confirmed all he needed to hear. "Topical aphrodisiacs. Totally safe, completely harmless, even ingestible!" Meanwhile, Isshin had returned to his seat on the couch, half listening to the conversation, and mostly drowning in a puddle of his own drool. With the music still beating and his main course covered in edible paints, his poor cock was straining, almost painfully, against his own pants. Thankfully, Kisuke was also an observant man, and gave a slight nod towards Isshin. "I believe you have some work to finish up", giving a nod towards Isshin. Seeing Isshin in his sorry state on the couch, Ryuuken slowly got up, stretched, and leisurely examined the handiwork on his arm. Smirking and locking eyes with the panting shinigami on the couch, he brought one hand up to his mouth and lazily licked the back of his hand, tasting the glimmering paint. Both Kisuke's and Isshin's breaths hitched at the sight as Ryuuken gave his hand another taste, then slowly brought both arms over his head, arching his back in a very cat-like stretch. As the shopkeeper retired to his shadows, Ryuuken picked up the bottle of sake and decided that now would be a good time to drain it of it's last remaining third. Swiveling his hips, the empty bottle dropped from his hand to the table as rhythm found it's way back into the archer's body. Gyrating with mind-destroying sensuality, Ryuuken fell into a comfortable flow of movement and dance as he slowly approached a panting and rather sweaty Isshin.
Kisuke chuckled as he mused over the night's events thus far, his hand leisurely dipping below his waistline to brush his fully erect hard-on. Perhaps it would behoove him to break out that extra-special bottle of sake, to prepare for the night ahead of him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Oh har har, I'm evil. ;)
Author: Kali
Series: Bleach
Pairing: Urahara/Ryuuken/Isshin
Rating: R for... well, R.
Chapter: Part 1 of 2 (maybe?)
Disclaimer: If I owned any anime, noone would ever wear clothes. Thusly, I don't own Bleach. ;)
A/N: This is a very, very, very overdue present for thenakedcat, inspired by real life events our vivid imaginations, of course. Hopefully, I'll be able to bang out some porn for the second half of this; otherwise, here it is.
Many, many thanks to ravengirl76 for the beta! ♥ Also, I'm too impatient to get this up to do a proper self-beta of this; I think I'll smooth everything out when (if?) I post the second part. ^_^
Summary: Ryuuken as a canvas? Not a bad idea.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Urahara Kisuke tended to stay to the shadows, even when in good company; he saw no reason to stand out unless he was needed. Right now, however, he was doubly glad for the cloak of darkness the shadows of the room's corner provided for him. At least, this way, he could hide the raging hard-on generated by the gyrating, glistening, colorfully painted figure of a scantily clad Ishida Ryuuken in the middle of the room. That sight could easily drive a person to insanity, he thought with a chuckle as his hand lazily slid up towards the waist of his pants. Or one Kurosaki Isshin, if the heavy panting and wide eyes were any indication of the Shinigami's quickly-deteriorating sanity.
Kisuke had to admit that, from his seat on the couch, Isshin had a much better view of the drunken, dancing Quincy in front of him; but from his shadowed corner of the small room, he had quite a delicious view himself of what the night's events had become. After a couple bottles of Kisuke's "special" home-brewed sake, the shopkeeper had off-handedly mentioned that there was a bag "full of fun things" near the couch. Isshin, in his drunken state, had sprung to life and bounded towards the bag, nearly breaking a five-pointed coffee table in the process. As a string of aristocratically slurred, reproachful curses filled the air of the rather large living room, the Shinigami tore through the bag. To his surprise and delight, the small bag was filled with brightly colored tubes sporting attached paintbrushes. Kisuke, devilishly chuckling behind his fan, had already begun to recess himself towards the corner of the room, hoping for an amusing night of entertainment.
He was getting quite more than he expected.
After Isshin had discovered that the paints were edible, there was no deterring him from his new game: Paint the Quincy. With only a meek protest, Ryuuken had given a sigh of defeat, and with another large swig of sake straight from the bottle, ordered Isshin onto the couch while he stumbled over to his stereo system. Selecting his set of favorite dancing CDs, he threw them in on repeat. Once the music started, a sly smile crossed his face as he sauntered his way back over to the couch, where Isshin had been eagerly deciding which paints to use first. Only when the shinigami had looked up did he freeze in his rummaging, jaw suddenly slack at the exquisite scene before him; the Quincy rarely smiled, and the sight itself was breathtaking, not to mention the lazy way he was swinging his hips. Kisuke, also enjoying the effects of the sake, sat comfortably in the corner, one hand resting on a propped up knee, while the other lay lazily on his thigh. The duo had seemed to have forgotten about the shopkeeper for now, which didn't bother him in the slightest.
Ryuuken had begun to strip as he made his way to the couch; flinging his tie onto a chair, slowly unbuttoning and peeling off his shirt, and driving Isshin up a wall before even arriving in his lap. Just as Ryuuken was reaching the couch, the excitable shinigami's patience snapped, and he soon found himself being straddled, laying prostrate under strong, calloused hands and lust-filled eyes. While, under normal circumstances, this would have prompted yelling and snide remarks from the Quincy, Ryuuken had instead raised an eyebrow at Isshin, a coy smile curling his lips as his eyes dared the shinigami to do his worst. Well, who was Isshin to turn down such a challenge?
With a flick of his wrist, a tube of body paint was poised and ready over the tasty looking pale expanse of skin below him. However, without once breaking his eyes from the blue pair smirking back at him, Isshin felt for another tube and flung it at the shopkeeper hiding in the shadows. Not one to be easily caught off guard, Kisuke barely managed to catch the tube at the same time he was wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. That had been unexpected.
"You don't expect me to have all the fun here, do you?" Isshin said without looking up, and - well, if the shinigami were to insist, who was a polite shopkeeper to turn down such an invitation? Air was displaced and Kisuke was hovering over Ryuuken's head, tube poised.
"Well now, shall we begin?"
A slight twitch at the cold of the paint was the only indication of any discomfort the Quincy had felt. The two eager artists took great pride in their work, gently brushing bright colors over muscular stretches of skin, smooth, taught muscles, and pert, delicate nipples. Ryuuken sighed at the feel of soft brushes gliding over his skin, the sake in his system enhancing each touch to mind blowing proportions. When he felt Isshin stop to unbutton Ryuuken's pants, he couldn't wriggle out of them fast enough. Once free of trousers, Isshin could barely keep himself from ravishing the edible-looking man; instead, he reached over, took a swig of sake from the bottle, broke open a new paint color, and started inching down the hem of the well-fit blue thong to continue his artistry. Soft light shined off the fresh paints as they glided onto Ryuuken's pelvis, the sharp juts of bone smoothed over by pale skin. As the designs covering his body dried, the paint seemed to take on a sparkly sheen and glow with a light all its own. Ryuuken's eyes suddenly went wide as he sucked in a deep breath and let out what almost sounded like a moan.
"Kisuke... where did you get these paints?" he had asked with the slightest bit of caution, almost afraid of what the answer was going to be.
"Oh, these?" the shopkeeper replied offhandedly, sitting back against the couch to admire his handiwork. "They're just something I... whipped up. Please, don't be alarmed; they're just a bit enhanced, is all. Quite an improvement, if I may say so myself," he added with an air of pride.
As he pushed himself into a sitting position, Ryuuken twisted to face the shopkeeper... or his fan, rather, which was more than likely hiding a sly smile. "And what, pray tell, are these paints enhanced with?" He was surprised by his own tone, though; he didn't sound nearly as angry as he thought he would. In fact, he sounded rather... aroused?
A chuckle confirmed all he needed to hear. "Topical aphrodisiacs. Totally safe, completely harmless, even ingestible!" Meanwhile, Isshin had returned to his seat on the couch, half listening to the conversation, and mostly drowning in a puddle of his own drool. With the music still beating and his main course covered in edible paints, his poor cock was straining, almost painfully, against his own pants. Thankfully, Kisuke was also an observant man, and gave a slight nod towards Isshin. "I believe you have some work to finish up", giving a nod towards Isshin. Seeing Isshin in his sorry state on the couch, Ryuuken slowly got up, stretched, and leisurely examined the handiwork on his arm. Smirking and locking eyes with the panting shinigami on the couch, he brought one hand up to his mouth and lazily licked the back of his hand, tasting the glimmering paint. Both Kisuke's and Isshin's breaths hitched at the sight as Ryuuken gave his hand another taste, then slowly brought both arms over his head, arching his back in a very cat-like stretch. As the shopkeeper retired to his shadows, Ryuuken picked up the bottle of sake and decided that now would be a good time to drain it of it's last remaining third. Swiveling his hips, the empty bottle dropped from his hand to the table as rhythm found it's way back into the archer's body. Gyrating with mind-destroying sensuality, Ryuuken fell into a comfortable flow of movement and dance as he slowly approached a panting and rather sweaty Isshin.
Kisuke chuckled as he mused over the night's events thus far, his hand leisurely dipping below his waistline to brush his fully erect hard-on. Perhaps it would behoove him to break out that extra-special bottle of sake, to prepare for the night ahead of him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Oh har har, I'm evil. ;)