It is nothing life-threatening, but Kisuke suspects it hurts like a bitch. And rather than deal with Kurosaki-kun’s reckless behavior and whining, a simple injection of anesthesia when he isn’t looking does the trick. Lovely little medicine the fourth division has cooked up, and he’s glad he’s gotten a fresh shipment of it.
Sighing to himself, Kisuke checks the bandages he’s applied and wonders how long he has before Tessai returns with Orihime-chan. Perhaps it is just enough.
Rising to his feet, his attention is grabbed by Ichigo’s zanpakutou, innocuously propped up against the wall. He debates for all of a moment before deciding the risk is well worth it. The blond steps quietly across the floor, thanking the skills he gained in the second division, until he stands before Zangetsu. Even dormant, he can feel the power emanating from the zanpakutou. Almost as if it is calling to him.
He doesn’t hesitate to answer.
Admiring the sleek and silver blade, Kisuke can’t help but drag his fingers down the smooth surface. The metal is cool to the touch but thrumming with power. Not even a scratch mars the surface, despite Ichigo’s constant and reckless use of it. Smiling to himself, he sends a short burst of his own reiatsu into the blade.
Almost immediately, there is an answering pulse. Ichigo’s reiatsu surges in the room, edged with something a bit calmer, and then, a form steps out of nowhere. Black cloth swirls around a faintly taller frame, eyes hidden by black sunglasses.
One eyebrow arches. “Taking advantage of an injured man?” Zangetsu teases, reiatsu settling around him like a cloak.
Kisuke tips his head to the side and drinks in the sight of his occasional lover. “Whatever it takes,” he replies with a not-so-subtle lick of his lips.
Zangetsu steps closer, looming over the former captain as the air between them sizzles and cracks with heat. “You know, you’ll eventually have to tell him about your crush.”
“Can’t you do that for me?” he returns, tipping his head back in invitation.
Zangetsu reaches up and knocks his hat from his head. “He knows as much as I do,” he replies as the hat hits the floor and rolls, coming to a stop near Ichigo’s arm. “Or as much as he wants to know.”
“He’s a smart kid,” Kisuke agrees. “He’ll figure it out eventually.” He twists his fingers in his lover’s black coat, dragging them together. “Now, come on. We don’t have much time.”
Shaking his head, Zangetsu reaches up and removes his sunglasses, eyes the same shade as Ichigo’s. “We’d have longer if you’d just confess,” he murmurs and leans down, sealing his mouth over the blond.
Something like a moan gurgles in his throat as he falls back against the wall, still clutching Zangetsu to him. The spirit’s tongue slides into his mouth, careful and sure. There is a clatter as his sunglasses drop to the floor, and both hands move to Kisuke’s back, sliding down until he cups the shopkeeper’s lower regions. He presses the man against the wall, grinding against him.
“If we only had time for more,” Kisuke groans, head falling back as a warm mouth focuses on his throat. He can feel heat surging and rocketing through his body.
He dimly realizes that this is probably not the healthiest of desires for him. To crave the touch of his student’s zanpakutou. Perhaps it only reflects the want he has for the student himself as well, a want he refuses to act upon. Or even admit aloud if only to himself. There are some lines even he isn’t willing to cross, and sexing up a minor just happens to be one of them. The fact that said minor is the child of his best friend and his own pupil only compounds the problem.
That Ichigo is only a few short feet behind Zangetsu, dead to the world, should have been the first clue that there is something wrong with this picture. But Kisuke tries not to think about that or how wrong this really is. He thinks that it is much worse to lust after his best friend’s son. Desiring said son’s zanpakutou is a somewhat different if strange story.
And he completely ignores the fact that Zangetsu, like all zanpakutou, is a reflection of his creator. His master. He is, in essence, Ichigo at his very core. The very foundation of the boy’s soul. Anything Zangetsu feels, thinks, or experiences is reflected in Ichigo. And vice versa. For him to be willing to do… this with Urahara Kisuke can mean only one thing: that Ichigo is also willing. That he wants this just as badly. That he needs to feel the slide of skin on skin, of another person – Kisuke – against him.
The only way to make it more obvious would be for him to put up a billboard.
But that thought flitters away as Zangetsu squeezes demonstratively. Kisuke pushes his back against the wall, using the leverage to wrap his legs around the taller spirit’s waist. This puts their groins in contact, and he can feel the hard heat, even through the layers that separate them. One of the blond’s arms circles around Zangetsu’s neck, even as the other fumbles at the ties to their clothing.
The zanpakutou spirit buries his face in Kisuke’s shoulder, licking and nipping at the exposed flesh. And Kisuke nearly moans as he manages to free their erections into the cool air of the room, both already seeping at the tip.
“Too long,” he groans and wraps his fingers around Zangetsu’s shaft. “Too fucking long.”
A gentle bite attacks his neck, sending a shock through his system. “I concur,” Zangetsu agrees, voice heavy and low. Wanting.
He rolls his hips, pinning Kisuke between himself and the wall and causing their groins to collide and rub in a rather erotic manner. A sense of reiatsu rises in the room, Kisuke’s swirling and mixing with Zangetsu’s. Which in all matters, is really Ichigo’s. It is a heady feeling, and Kisuke’s head falls against the wall, a pant escaping his lips.
Zangetsu chuckles against his throat, licking a long line to his ear. “The things I would do,” he practically purrs, breath a hot wash over Kisuke’s ear. One hand leaves the shopkeeper’s ass, moving to wrap fingers around his arousal.
The statement is vague enough to pepper Kisuke’s mind with all sorts of erotic images, and he groans, his arousal spiking along with his reiatsu. His hand moves faster over Zangetsu, the zanpakutou spirit rocking his hips with Kisuke’s motions. It is as close to sex as they can get at the moment, as close as the ex-captain dares to ever do, but Kisuke is glad for it.
“Tell me,” he murmurs and licks his lips as Zangetsu’s thumb rubs over the tip of his arousal. Gray-green eyes lift to honey-brown, darkening with desire. “I want to hear it.”
A beard rasps over his cheek, and Zangetsu smirks. “You make the most arousing sounds,” he replies, fingers easily manipulating Kisuke into a higher state of want. “I wonder if I could invoke them with a little more… aggression.”
Kisuke moans, Zangetsu having the amazing ability to say much without really saying anything at all. Just a simple insinuation is enough to color his mind perverted, and he entertains images that would make any porn video proud. Lust surges through his veins, coiling in his stomach and making his groin tighten in anticipation.
Their mouths meet again. A hot, wet kiss that makes a startlingly loud smacking noise in the silence of the room. Not that there is anyone to hear. Fingers stroke faster over Kisuke’s arousal, and he pants, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Zangetsu’s skilled tongue sweeps through his mouth, tangling with his own, and he feels the heady press of Zangetsu’s reiatsu wash over him. Prickling at his skin and setting it afire.
Kisuke doesn’t hear Ichigo moaning on the floor just behind him, but to Zangetsu, it is a pulse in his very being. He rolls his hips once more in a mimicry of the act they could’ve been doing, and the blond abandons his tenuous grip on his control. He shudders, moaning into Zangetsu’s mouth as he spills himself between their bodies and all over Zangetsu’s talented fingers. His own reiatsu spikes as he loses control, rolling across Zangetsu’s skin in trickles of crimson power. He can feel the walls shake at the force of their combined spirit pressure.
Kisuke swipes his fingers over his partner, determined to drag Zangetsu down with him. And then, Zangetsu groans, the sound starting in his throat and trickling into their kiss. He breaks free from Kisuke’s lips, burying his face in the shopkeeper’s throat. And he pulses in Kisuke’s grasp, orgasm dancing through him.
Panting, the ex-captain drops shaky legs from around Zangetsu’s waist, glad for the wall to support his unstable footing. Zangetsu squeezes him lustfully, lapping once at Kisuke’s throat before pulling back. Eyes still darkened with heat.
A sated smile flitters onto Kisuke’s lips as he gratefully slumps against the wall. “And that is why we should do this more often,” he murmurs, sweat damping his skin.
Zangetsu hums in his throat, lifting the blond’s soiled hand to his lips and sucking at his fingertips. “I am but waiting on your courage, Kisuke.” His tongue flicks across the pad of the shopkeeper’s thumb, making him shiver in reawakening want.
Kisuke has every intention of saying something witty, something promising, but the edge of his senses waken with alarm. Two familiar reiatsu – Tessai and Orihime-chan – are approaching, the latter in a rather concerned state. Cursing under his breath, Kisuke meets Zangetsu’s eyes. Then, the spirit dissolves into thin air. As always, all traces related to much of their activities vanish with them.
Time is never long enough, he remarks wistfully as he hurries to adjust his clothing and retrieve his hat from the ground. With a deft roll of the brim over his fingers, it returns to its rightful position gracing his head. His legs still feel a bit wobbly as he hurriedly crosses the room and flings open the door, just in time to prevent Orihime-chan from knocking frantically on it.
“Urahara-san!” she declares, eyes brimming with tears in her concern. “Is Kurosaki-kun alright? I should heal him right away!”
He steps aside and gestures the poor girl into the room where Ichigo is sleeping, rather peacefully. The wound isn’t even serious, but he lets Orihime heal the boy anyway. It makes her feel better to be of use.
Tessai gives him a knowing look as he kneels on the other side of Ichigo, the soft orange glow of Orihime-chan’s Shun Shun Rikka filling the room. Kisuke shrugs casually, dropping his hand to sneak one more lingering trace of fingers down Zangetsu’s blade. He feels an answering pulse, barely present against his skin. And then, he excuses himself from the room, leaving Ichigo to their tender care.
‘Someday,‘ he promises himself. Promises Ichigo.
Someday, he’ll admit the truth. But until that time, stolen and dubiously acceptable moments are all he can have.