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A Shadow of What Was	By : katami Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 49594 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
Author's Notes: We have yaoi, fluff and angst. You have been warned.

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He came awake slowly, his body enjoyably warm and drenched in pleasure. It took a moment for him to realize the hazy pleasure of the dream was in fact real. He rolled his hips, delighting in the warm, wet velvet sensation engulfing his cock. He groaned as someone moaned, thrusting just a little further forward. Strong hands gripped his hips, gently but firmly easing them back and making him moan as that wet heat slid away.

Urahara forced his eyes open, his brain objecting vehemently to the idea of moving even that tiny bit closer to wakefulness. He cried out as the tip of his cock was sucked, his brain finally coming online as his eyes registered the brilliantly orange hair at his groin. Ichigo.

He smiled and slid his fingers into that orange hair, cupping the younger man's skull and encouraging him to continue. Ichigo smiled up at him, his eyes molten, and he released Urahara�s cock, earning a moan of protest.

A pink tongue came out to lick at his tip, swirling around it and making Urahara wonder just what they were teaching the teenagers in sex ed these days. A strong, sword-calloused hand gently stroked him, and Urahara closed his eyes and groaned, fairly sure he could have died a happy man at that moment. He didn�t care that it was before dawn, a time he usually regarded as completely inhuman; it was worth waking up if it came with a blow job from one Kurosaki Ichigo.

�Awake yet?� teased Ichigo before drawing hard on his tip. Kisuke groaned and tried to thrust, moaning when Ichigo let him. Nothing in the universe could ever feel as wonderful as that glorious mouth taking him. �Oh god!� he panted trying to remind himself that he was not a horny teenager; he was well over seven-hundred, and he was not going to come just from having his boyfriend blow him.

Ichigo made a sound of approval and Kisuke bit his lip. He would not start moaning, he would not beg, and as long as Ichigo didn�t...That tongue pressed firmly against the underside of his erection, caressing him each time Ichigo bobbed his head and he was lost, thrusting, hands fisted in that incredible orange hair.

He was gasping, soft, choked little sounds of pleasure with each pass of that mouth. He was so very close, his whole body going taut and a low wail of pleasure being ripped from him as Ichigo swallowed around him.

�I think my brain melted,� he sighed, eyes closed and not even caring that there was probably a dopey smile on his face. It was worth looking foolish for something that good.

�Oh no you don�t. No going back to sleep! I did not go to all the trouble of waking you up for you not to say goodbye properly,� growled Ichigo, kissing him hard and dragging out of bed. He knew there was a reason dating this man was trouble and this was the proof. He was up before the sun. A very clear sign of a terrible day.

�Come on,� ordered Ichigo, handing him his robe, the fluffy grey one that looked terrible on him but was comfy and warm. The brat had laughed himself silly finding out he had clothing in something other than green, which was why he never let anyone else see - especially since he looked terrible in grey. But some things were more important than looking good and being warm on cold nights and even colder mornings was one of them.

A warm cup of tea found its way into his hand and Urahara smiled faintly at Ichigo. �Ready to form thoughts again?�

�Not in the least, but I might forgive you for dragging me up at this inhuman hour,� he told the redhead, kissing his cheek before turning to the tea. The mark of a good, well-trained young man - he could make a cup of tea; Kisuke didn�t want to think about how long it had taken to teach Ichigo that particular skill.

Ichigo was staring at him, a slight frown on his lips that said he had spaced out for just a little too long. �I never claimed to be a morning person,� he pouted, earning a slight snort and a twitch of the lips from his lover. Ichigo plucked his tea cup away and grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the front of the shop.

They paused on the porch to stare at each other, the sunrise still barely even a hint on the horizon. Ichigo had to get home though; they both knew that. Ichigo had school and too many nights spent in the shop would be sure to bring Isshin's ire down on them. So Ichigo was sneaking home and he was up early to see the younger man off.

"I'll be by after patrol," Ichigo told him, pausing at the edge of the porch and making Urahara smile. The younger man was still holding his hand. They were holding hands like stupid, love-struck teenagers. Only it wasn't stupid; it was actually kind of nice. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had held his hand, just wanted to touch him and be touched in return without it leading to anything. It was rather intoxicating, Ichigo's hand warm in his, the boy's reiatsu wrapped warmly around him, full of happiness and affection. It was worth being up at the crack of dawn for stolen moments like this, reflected Urahara.

"I won't wait up," chuckled the blonde, although they both knew he would. He would be sitting on the porch in his horrible grey robe with a cup of tea for the redhead the way he had every night for nearly year. Ever since they had become lovers.

Ichigo smiled at him, one of those rare, heartrendingly beautiful ones that made Kisuke want to give the boy anything in his power if only to keep that look on his face for a moment more. The younger man's free hand stole up to caress his cheek and Kisuke couldn't help but let his eyes sink closed as he leaned into the gentle touch.

"Kisuke." His name breathed out in a groan that Urahara was beginning to suspect his soul was hardwired to respond to. He drew the boy close and kissed him, a slow, sweet kiss that left them both smiling.

"There. You can go back to bed now," Ichigo told him, laying a quick kiss to the end of his nose.

He chuckled but let the other man go, watching him from the porch until he was well out of sight before sighing heavily. It had been too good to last, he knew that. Especially with his luck. But he had hoped for at least a little longer with the redhead.

"I can feel your reiatsu, Yoruichi. You might as well come out," he announced quietly. A moment later a black cat dropped from the roof to the ground, staring at him with accusing golden eyes. He had missed her reiatsu while Ichigo was there, his power easily masking hers - a careless mistake.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked, opening the shop door for her, feeling like a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

"We need to talk, Kisuke," she snarled at him, stalking past him. He tried to tell himself that he'd had Ichigo for a year, far longer than he'd had any right to hope or pray for. He'd had his taste of bliss and now, like all things, he had to pay for it.

He put the kettle back on the shove, not really wanting tea but the ritual helping to soothe his nerves. It was silly but when things were bad there had always been tea and he found the consistency soothing.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Yoruichi storming into the kitchen, once more human and dressed.

"Tea?" he offered, trying to summon a smile and his jovial mask, but finding neither would come - not when he was about to have his happiness ripped away.

"What the hell are you doing, Kisuke?" snapped the noble, knocking the cup he had been offering her away.

"I was saying goodbye to Kurosaki before he had to go to school," he retorted tartly, annoyed over the loss of one of his favorite cups.

"Don't try playing those games with me! You're fucking him!?!? A seventeen..."

"He's eighteen. His birthday was last month," he interrupted, not that eighteen was any better than seventeen when they were talking about centuries of age difference.

"He's still an infant! What the hell are you thinking, Kisuke? What the hell have you become? Are you that desperate to come home? What do you hope to do? Be accepted back into Soul Society as a consort of the house of Kuroskai?" The sword was at her throat before either of them realized it. And Kisuke was shocked to discover he meant it. He would kill his oldest and dearest friend. Not for what she was implying about him - he'd heard worse - but for the thought that he could do such a thing to Ichigo.

"I don't need Ichigo to get me home," he whispered, something dark and malicious in his voice, a whisper of a long forgotten part of his past. A part he buried under laughter and smiles. "And if you ever suggest I would use him in such a way...,"

"Then why, Kisuke? If not to come home, why?" She paused to stare at him, golden eyes widening before she drew in a sharp breath. "Dear god, you're in love with the boy!"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's nothing," he said, trying to brush it away.

"Then why haven't you told anyone?" she demanded. "Why not talk about it if it's nothing, Kisuke? I've known you for centuries and you've never not talked about a fling."

"Because it isn't important," he snapped, because it was important. At least to him. And he had learned to protect the things that mattered to him, hiding them away from prying eyes where they could be mocked or stolen. It was the one fucking love of his whole miserable life and it was precious.

But he knew better than to pin his hopes and dreams on teenage human boy. Knew he was only setting himself up for heartbreak. He didn't care; it was his heart and at least it would be broken for someone more wonderful than anyone he had ever met.

In a few months the boy would go off to college and his brief affair with his old master would end. He would meet new and interesting people - people who were young and beautiful and not nearly so damaged as one Urahara Kisuke. Oh, there would be calls and letters, visits over breaks, and the like, but after a term, maybe two, those would dwindle and Ichigo would find someone new. There might or might not be a call - he couldn't say - but knowing Ichigo there likely would be. A very polite call to tell him it was over, that the boy had met someone new.

In five, or maybe ten years, he would get an invitation to the wedding because Isshin had never heard of the word restraint and would invite anyone and everyone. And he would go because it was expected of him - the old teacher and the even older friend of the family. He would drink champagne and laugh and smile while the man he loved began his life with someone else. Someone worthy. He would watch his happiness walk down the aisle and his heart would go right along with him.

He didn't fool himself about his role in this story. Not anymore. He wasn't the hero and he wasn't the one to get the boy. Happily ever after was not part of his future.

Kisuke came awake slowly. His entire body ached but it was nothing compared to the raw, soul-deep agony that welled up from his heart. Nothing was right and it would never be right again. He wanted to wrap his arms around his chest and sob with how much it hurt. His hurt, Urahara's hurt - everything hurt. And there was so much pain. A low keening noise rose from the back of his throat.

"Kisuke!" his name breathed in a panicked whisper as reiatsu washed over him, cocooning him in warmth, stealing his physical pain and trying to soothe his heart. It didn't work. It just cut him to shreds all over again as he realized what else was in that wonderful reiatsu blanket.

Love.

But not for him. For Urahara. He gasped as another wave of despair washed up from deep inside him. Even Urahara knew he couldn't have this, wasn't worthy of it. There was so much blood on his hands, so many lives ruined. This love was his sin, his greatest sin; and his penitence for all he had done would be watching it walk away. It would kill him, rip his heart to pieces to lose this, but he would. He always lost those things that mattered to him. And this...something as precious and wonderful as one Kurosaki Ichigo could never be his.

He made another soft sound of despair and a hand wrapped around his. "It's okay. The healer will be here in a second. Just hold on, love."

A growl filled the air and the reiatsu around him grew tense and angry, ready to lash out or kill. "Get out." The words were hard and clipped and the tone could have eviscerated.

"Fuck off," snarled Grimmjow, taking his free hand a holding it gently. "Kitten?"

"Get your fucking hands off him!" The first voice was back and had moved into an eerie sort of warble. The reiatsu around him spiked with dark, possessive rage and he felt Grimmjow's reiatsu shove angrily against Ichigo's.

"Back off, Kurosaki. I got just as much right ta be here as you. Maybe more," snapped Grimmjow, and Kisuke knew violence was a mere heartbeat away. He couldn't let that happen, couldn't let these people fight - Grimmjow was his friend and the other...the other was Urahara's world. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't let someone who had meant so much to Urahara be hurt.

He forced his eyes open, every cell in his body rebelling at the idea, and his head protesting vehemently with a spike of pain. He took in the neutral colored walls and the two looming men growling at each other from either side of his bed. Two pairs of eyes turned to him instantly, one set glacial blue and the other a warm brown.

�Kitten,� sighed Grimmjow, an almost fond smile on his face as he reached out to ruffle Kisuke�s hair affectionately.

�Kisuke,� he correctly with a hoarse whisper. There was a sharp spike of reiatsu, a wash of blackest despair for just a second before it was cut off and Kurosaki Ichigo was staring at them, his jaw set and unshed tears in his eyes.

�Ichigo,� he breathed, feeling something far down inside him flutter and respond instinctively to the pain in those eyes. He reached out for the other man, not sure why, but knowing it was the right thing to do.
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A Shadow of What Was