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Run	By : CherryStarburst Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Urahara/Ichigo Views: 5439 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, and make no money from this story

Chapter List
- 1-Run
- 1
Pairing:
Urahara/Ichigo

Warnings: Angst, language, lime, possibly OOC
but I tried as hard as possible to keep them IC :P UST

Prompt
by Trumpet Geek – 1 sentence UraIchi - 5. Run –“I’ve
decided to stop running, Kisuke,” Ichigo mumbled as he
straddled the older man’s lap and kissed him clumsily.

XxXxXxX

The first time Ichigo
truly noticed Urahara's attractiveness was during a fight.
Typically.

There was quite a number of hollows that appeared
outside of Urahara's shop. Normally, Urahara would instinctively know
when his shop was in danger, and
find an excuse to escape a day or so beforehand. Most said it was
because he wanted to test the Shinigami and his own mod-souls, give
them more training against real opponents.

Ichigo thought it
was pure cowardice.

But, seeing Urahara fight, he couldn't
help but come to the conclusion that Urahara was far too strong to be
a coward. And not only was he powerful, he knew it.
That familiar maniacal grin was spread across his face, a fire in his
shadowed eyes, and an ease in the way he swung his zanpakuto, swiping
down arrancar after arrancar with one flick of the wrist.

He
was fucking gorgeous.

Ichigo's eyes widened and he turned away
from Urahara, stopping the thought before it had even begun. An
arrancar roared in his face, effectively distracting him, and Ichigo
went for it, slashing it's face in half.

He put all thoughts
of Urahara's sheer sexiness out of his mind.

XxXxXxX

But
the thoughts didn't stay away for long.

“Kurosaki-kun?
Kurosaki-kun?” Ichigo stared into the distance, thoughts
focused on a certain hat-clad man, finding himself unable to stop
thinking about him, his grace in battle, the body hidden under those
heavy clothes.

“Kurosaki-kuuun.” A hand was waved
in front of his face, and he jumped, jerking around to stab the
offender with his conveniently missing sword. His nose bumped into
Urahara's and he froze completely, eyes widening as they stared into
Urahara's.

He was struck with the sudden urge to kiss
him.

Urahara's eyebrows raised in mild confusion as Ichigo
swayed slightly closer. “Kurosaki?” he asked quietly, for
some reason not wanting to break the heavy atmosphere that had fell
upon them. He'd never witnessed something like this with Ichigo –
what would the boy do next?

But break it he had. Ichigo gasped
and jerked away, face losing all colour, and then gaining it at an
almost dangerous rate. Urahara watched Ichigo blush furiously, and
wondered just what the boy had been planning.

“I... I,
well... I...” Ichigo stammered, not sure what to do –
apologise, or bolt as fast as possible out of the room? The second
option seemed so much more helpful to his situation.

“What's
wrong?” Urahara asked, still quite flabbergasted by what had
happened, and completely confused. Ichigo shot to his feet, the blush
refusing to recede, and Urahara's eyes widened as he began to realise
exactly what Ichigo had been up to.

“My, my,
Kurosaki-kuun,”
he purred, a slow smirk spreading across his face. Ichigo shook his
head, denying that Urahara had any knowledge
of what Ichigo had been thinking.

“Shut up, you
pervert!” he snapped, and then stormed from the room. Urahara
laughed gleefully, snapping open his fan to hide his wide smile.

XxXxXxX

“Bloody hat-n-clogs,” Ichigo
grumbled as he hefted another heavy box out of the lorry that had
delivered to the Urahara Shouten. Renji grunted in agreement, almost
hobbling into the shop with the large box he was carrying.

Ichigo
quickly made his way into the store and gladly set the box down in a
back room, standing up straight and cracking his back. Whenever he
came around, Urahara always seemed to have deliveries. And it was
always on a hot day.

Ichigo let out a strangled yelp as
someone suddenly pressed against his bare, sweaty back. Clothed arms
slid around his waist, hands linking on his lower stomach, just above
his dangerously slipping jeans.

“Christ!” he
snarled, recognising the reiatsu, and the wicked smirk pressed into
his shoulder. Urahara chuckled, arms tightening, and Ichigo's breath
caught in his throat for a moment. The embrace... it felt so right.
Fuck, he was turning into a girl.

“Get the hell off a'
me!” he finally said, realising he wasn't reacting in a normal,
Ichigo-ish way. He struggled out of Urahara's hold, annoyed when he
found the embrace far too strong. Urahara had arms of steel.

“Now,
now, Ichigo,” Urahara scolded playfully, kissing Ichigo's
shoulder. Ichigo stopped struggling, frozen by the action. What
the... “You shouldn't deny your... feelings...” Urahara's
hand began slipping lower, fingers skimming the waistline of his
trousers, and then sliding underneath teasingly. Ichigo's breath
began to quicken.

Fuck. Urahara knew.

“I
don't have feelings,” Ichigo denied, but his voice was weak and
shaky as his attention focused on the hands, and the body pressed
against his own. Urahara laughed softly, fingers inching lower, past
his boxer shorts, touching pubic hair. Ichigo wanted him to go so
much lower.

“So you say,” Urahara said quietly,
breath hitting Ichigo's ear. Ichigo bit back a groan when Urahara's
tongue slipped out, plunging into his ear, before withdrawing
suddenly. Teeth clamped down on his earlobe, tugging.
Ichigo moaned quietly, and Urahara's grin widened.

“Hey,
Ichigo, what the hell're ya- holy fuck!” Renji's voice
interrupted them. Ichigo's half-closed eyes flew open, and he felt
Urahara's hands pull away, body leaving him. Ichigo slowly turned
around to see Renji staring at them with disbelief, before his eyes
narrowed on Urahara. “What the fuck were you doing to him, you
pervert?!”

Urahara laughed loudly, fan appearing out of
nowhere to waft cool air in his face. He quickly made his escape as
Renji lunged at him, yelling about corrupting 'innocent Ichigo'.
Renji followed him out of the room, intent on beating every last bit
of perverseness out of him.

Ichigo shakily sank onto one of
the many boxes in the room as the two disappeared, his hands covering
his quite noticeable erection, cheeks flaming.

XxXxXxX

“I
didn't lose, damnit!” Ichigo exclaimed loudly. Yoruichi grinned
at him slyly, and Ichigo's expression darkened even further. He had
lost. Against a girl.

“Denial
isn't healthy, Kurosaki-kun,” Urahara told him, before taking a
sip of his tea. Ichigo wanted to knock the cup out of the man's
hands, jealous, insanely enough, of the cup that got to touch
Urahara's lips. Christ, he was fucked in the head.

“It's
not denial!” Ichigo protested, even though he knew Urahara
wasn't talking about his training fight against Yoruichi. Urahara's
mouth quirked in a knowing smile, eyes shadowed by that damn hat.

“You refuse to admit it to anyone else, even though
it's there, staring you right in the face,” countered Urahara.
Yoruichi looked between the two, quite confused, as Ichigo scowled
and looked away, not wanting to get into it while the woman was still
in the room. It was bad enough Urahara knew.

He was under no
delusions – he had long since realised Urahara knew
exactly about Ichigo's feelings
for him. Every last erotic dream, every last thought dedicated to
Urahara. He knew them all.

“What the hell do you know?”
Ichigo retorted with, before standing up and stomping out of the
room, eyebrow twitching with fury. Yoruichi continued to look lost.

XxXxXxX

“You can talk to me, Ichigo.”
Ichigo whipped around, annoyed that, once again, Urahara had snuck up
on him. He had a knack for doing that.

“Talk to you
about what?” Ichigo asked, even though he knew what. He
halfheartedy sent another 'Getsuga Tenshou' at a nearby rock,
watching it explode. He'd been down in Urahara's basement, training
by himself with Zangetsu. Until Urahara had wandered along.

“You
know what,” Urahara said, sternly. Ichigo frowned – he'd
never heard Urahara stern, or so serious. It was unnerving him.
Urahara's hat was tipped up, his eyes no longer hidden by the brim.
They pierced Ichigo like a sword.

“Fuck off,”
Ichigo muttered, hand clenching on Zangetsu. He refused to reveal
anything to Urahara, even if the man did already
know. He knew what would happen if he said anything – Urahara
would laugh and not take it seriously and fucking crush
Ichigo's heart. Because that's
Urahara.

“You can't deny it to me, Kurosaki,”
Urahara said. It was back to Kurosaki. Ichigo had loved the way Urahara
said his name. Why had he stopped?

He was distancing himself,
right? He'd been disgusted. Just... just teasing Ichigo, mocking him
with loving embraces.

“There's nothing to deny,”
Ichigo, ironically, denied. He could lie. He wasn't bad at lying,
though he didn't really like doing it much. But it seemed, of all the
people he could lie to, he just couldn't fool Urahara. That man was
too damn perceptive!

“Really?” Urahara asked,
voice curiously interested. He stepped closer to Ichigo, who wanted
to back away, but Urahara's gaze held him firmly in place. “So
if,” Urahara continued, even closer, until he was a scant inch
away from Ichigo. Ichigo felt his breath ghost across his lips. “I
were to do this...”

Ichigo had no time to react as
Urahara's hands cupped the back of his head, pulling him in for a
kiss. He stared incredulously at Urahara as the older man put more
pressure on his lips, tongue demanding entrance. His lips parted of
their own accord, despite his brain screaming at them not
to.

Urahara's tongue plunged in forcefully, mapping out his
whole mouth, rubbing Ichigo's own tongue, claiming him.
It was rough, but teasing, and annoyingly fucking Urahara.

And
then he pulled away. Ichigo followed his retreat, before opening eyes
he hadn't even realised he'd closed, pulling back when he realised
exactly what he was doing. Urahara was watching him, smug,
triumphant.

“Nothing to deny, eh, Ichigo?”
Urahara questioned, drawing out Ichigo's name in a sultry drawl.
Ichigo shuddered, nearly forgetting the question the moment it had
left Urahara's lips.

Nearly.
Consciousness suddenly slammed back into him, and he reeled back,
feeling like all the breath had been slammed out of him.

Urahara
watched impassively as he turned tail and ran from the truth.
Again.

XxXxXxX

For the next few days, Urahara studied
Ichigo intently. He couldn't seem to get away from that heavy gaze
that was always on him whenever he visited the Shouten, and he found
himself visiting a lot less.

That kiss had haunted his every
waking moment. Sitting in class was torture as he kept imagining what
would have happened if he'd gone further, not ran away. Would
everything be that powerful, rough and yet seductive?

After a
week of not visiting Urahara's, Renji popped into his room, dragged
him to the Shouten, and made him help with carrying boxes, again.
Apparently, Ichigo's avoidance had been quite an inconvenience on his
back.

Ichigo had, of course, protested the whole way, and
protested even more as he carried boxes in and out. Thankfully,
however, Urahara remained conspicuously hidden, and Ichigo didn't
have to confront him.

This isn't so bad,
Ichigo thought, carrying a large wrapped package into the back room.
Why was I so scared?

Ichigo
stepped into the room and immediately dropped the package onto the
floor.

Oh. That's why.

Urahara
was perched on a seat in the middle of the room, calmly sipping tea.
Ichigo swore he hadn't been there last time Ichigo had dropped off a
box.

“Wh... what?” Ichigo stuttered out, before
feeling instantly stupid. Urahara was regarding him, an amused smile
playing on his features, and Ichigo's gaze couldn't help but be drawn
to that smile, those lips that had kissed him so
intensely.

“Kurosaki-kun?” Urahara asked amicably
as Ichigo proceeded to stand there, gawking at Urahara's lips. He
snapped out of his trance, turning bright red as he realised how much
a prat he must have looked like.

“R-right, I'm going to
just... just go,” Ichigo told him, told himself. He couldn't
seem to make his feet just move.
They stayed rooted to the spot, and his whole body leant towards
Urahara's mere presence. He couldn't step away.

Urahara
sighed, disappointment crossing his features before it was hid by a
cheery smile. Ichigo bit his lip, looking away, anywhere but at
Urahara.

The minutes dragged by. Urahara didn't say anything,
just watched Ichigo with interest as the boy stayed still, not
moving. Why can't I leave?

He
already knew the answer. Because I want to stay.

That
propelled him into motion.

Ichigo moved closer to Urahara,
steps hesitant, nervous. Urahara watched him steadily, setting his
tea on a box near his chair. He seemed to know exactly what Ichigo
had in mind. Which was odd, because even Ichigo didn't know what he
had in mind.

“Kurosaki?” Urahara asked when Ichigo
stopped right in front of him, gazing down at him, gnawing on his
lip. His whole posture screamed nervousness.

“I’ve
decided to stop running, Kisuke,” Ichigo mumbled as he
straddled the older man’s lap and kissed him clumsily.

Urahara
smiled into the kiss, an arm wrapped around Ichigo to keep him in his
lap, and his free hand combing through the spiky orange hair. The
kiss was gentle, as if Urahara were the hesitant, inexperienced one
who didn't know what Ichigo wanted. Which was madness – Urahara
always knew what Ichigo wanted, what he needed.

“Please,”
Ichigo gasped into the kiss, lips pressing against Urahara's
desperately. Urahara nodded, pulling back.

“No going
back now,” he said, pulled Ichigo even closer, and pressed his
lips firmly to Ichigo's.

XxXxXxX

And
they lived happily ever after.

Sorry, no smut... well, there
was a bit of interrupted smut, I suppose. My first Bleach fanfiction
– there really needs to be more Bleach slash fics, and more
Urahara/Ichigo in general. What did you all think? Personally, I hate
it – writer's syndrome and all. Too rushed. Blah.

Hope
you review and tell me what you liked and what I could improve on :D
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