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Falling Into Darkness	By : SilverKytten Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Urahara/Ichigo Views: 3133 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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. No profit/money is gained from any of my writing.

Chapter List
- 1-Falling Into Darkness
- 1
Notes: This was one of the first stories that I ever wrote. My style has changes somewhat since then, and I've been meaning to rework it a bit but haven't had the chance. I'm posting it anyway because I want to put the sequel, Shades of Grey, up here and I figured it would be better to go in order. Okay, enough talking, hope you enjoy!
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.
Falling into Darkness

Urahara Kisuke was just starting to think how nice his bed sounded when he noticed the trapdoor to the basement was open. He sighed, knowing who was down there but unsure of what to do about it. Since the war ended, Ichigo had taken to using it as an escape of sorts, though from what specifically it was hard to determine. The war hadn’t been easy on anyone; they had all lost people they cared about, people they loved. Ichigo had come back from it all a bit darker and a lot more subdued, haunted by the memories and regrets. Nothing stripped away that adolescent sense of invulnerability faster than the brutality of war. In the end they’d won, but it had been at a cost so great that it was hardly distinguishable from a loss. Pulling the striped hat lower over his eyes, Urahara made his way to the opening.
It took him a moment to orient himself in the vast underground space, partly because it was so quiet. He had expected to find Ichigo blasting away at something, trying to work out whatever pain he was feeling through brute force alone, but apparently that wasn’t the case. In fact, if he hadn’t detected traces of the other man's reiatsu he would have thought the place was abandoned. He finally found the young shinigami at the far edge of the room, sitting with his knees drawn up and his head hanging low, leaning against a boulder. Urahara stopped a foot or so away and leaned against the rock, looking down at the top of the orange head.
“What are you doing down here so late, Kurosaki–kun?” He inquired gently, striving for that carefree tone that had once come so easily.
Ichigo spared him a glance before dropping his head again. “Just looking for somewhere to think.”
“Well you know you’re always welcome, but isn’t it a bit lonely down here?” The former captain ran his fingers along the brim of his hat, a sure sign that he was more uncomfortable than he looked.
“It’s better this way,” the younger man grunted, staring at the sand between his feet.
“I see,” Urahara mused. “Where’s Zangetsu, Kurosaki-kun, I wouldn’t think you’d be able to hide him so well.”
“We got into a bit of a disagreement; I left him over there to cool off.” Ichigo motioned vaguely to a distant spot where the large blade was barely visible, embedded in a rock face.
“I see,” the older man repeated with a frown. Ichigo’s zanpakutou seemed to be harboring some concerns of late because this was becoming an all too familiar scene. “I hope it wasn’t anything serious.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not important.” Ichigo stood in a single, graceful motion and leaned against the rock, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you still doing up, anyway?”
“I was actually on my way to bed when I noticed you were down here,” the blond admitted.
“You should have just kept on going, I doubt I’ll be very good company.” Ichigo’s face was hard as he studied the landscape, but his eyes were on fire with swirling emotion.
“That’s okay; luckily I’m good enough company for the both of us.” The words were light, but the grey-green eyes were sharp as he watched his companion’s profile.
Neither spoke for a long time, Ichigo studying the rocks and Urahara studying Ichigo.
“You know what today is?” Ichigo turned his head and Urahara nearly gasped at the darkness and pain he read in his eyes.
“Yes, I know what today is,” he replied solemnly, holding the gaze unblinking.
Everyone handled grief in their own way; it was just a fact of life. Ichigo’s method consisted of burying himself in the details, wrapping himself in those fragments of time. He had recorded the date of every death, every horrible tragedy, every anguished moment in the vaults of his memory. He held them tight, keeping them safe, paying homage to those who he couldn’t protect in life by never letting go of them in death.
War was a terrible, brutal thing and death was always at its core. Urahara knew this, the shinigami had known this, but Kurosaki Ichigo had only known the concept of it until he had been swept away. This was the horrible, irreparable price of going into the darkness when you were too young to understand true loss and too bold to realize that you can’t save everyone. Ichigo had come out of it a hero, the savior of Soul Society, but he’d also come out missing a piece of his soul.
Ichigo rolled his weight against the rock, bringing them face to face only a foot apart. “Does it get easier?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with regrets.
Urahara stared down at him from the shadows of his hat, weighing his words for a long moment, “Eventually it hurts less, but no, it never really gets easier.”
“I can still hear them; see them all torn apart and laying in their own blood.” His eyes were impossibly dark, clouded with confusion and grief. “Sometimes they were screaming or crying, but more often they would just apologize, like they thought it was their fault or something. What makes people do that?”
“I don’t know, Kurosaki-kun. I wish I did,” the older man murmured softly.
“You know, sometimes I dream that I saved them; different ones on different nights.” As he spoke, Ichigo reached up, his fingers sliding along the brim of the other man's hat, tugging gently until it came free. He tossed it aside, his eyes never leaving Urahara’s face. “It’s almost worse than the nightmares because then I have to wake up and it’s like losing them all over again.”
The blond watched as the hat fluttered to the ground, a soft frown still pulling at his pale brows. “You did everything you could, more than most people thought possible.”
“Hm.” Ichigo drew his fingers gently through the ash blond hair, brushing it back from the other man’s face. “If that’s true, then why does it feel like I failed?”
Urahara felt a sense of foreboding tickling along his neck and reached up to capture the younger man's wrist. “Not one of them would have ever accused you of failing.”
Ichigo pushed off the wall, bringing his free hand up to catch the other man's jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing the contour of his lower lip. “That doesn’t change how I feel.”
Urahara belatedly realized that the conversation had ventured into dangerous territory as Ichigo’s dark gaze dropped lower. The thumb dragged over his lip, drawing it down slightly, and his breath hitched in his throat as his grip on the other wrist tightened.
“Kurosaki-kun, I think…” he was cut off as Ichigo pressed the thumb more firmly against his lips.
“Kisuke,” he dragged his gaze back up to the pale eyes, watching them widen just barely in surprise, “I think I’d prefer it if you called me Ichigo.”
The thumb slid away from his mouth, trailing along the curve of the cheek before burying in the hair at the base of his skull. Not waiting for a reply Ichigo stepped forward, pulling him down, leaning in closer until their lips brushed together. Urahara had been expecting something rough and demanding, and was surprised when he was met with a gentle caress. Ichigo regarded him through half-lidded eyes, drawing back slightly and running his tongue across the lower lip that had fascinated him just moments before.
Urahara gasped softly, meeting that burning stare and Ichigo shifted, deepening the kiss. Sinuously, languidly he explored the secret depths, tasting the exotic flavor of the other man. Urahara’s eyes slid shut and he reached out with his own tongue to stroke the invader, caressing, teasing. Ichigo made a sound in the back of his throat and rolled them until Urahara was pressed against the stone, bringing their bodies flush together.
Detangling his wrist from the older man’s grasp, Ichigo cupped the side of his neck, thumb stroking his jaw. Hands found their way up his spine, kneading the flesh, pulling them closer together. Ichigo’s tongue drew back, tracing softly, inviting his partner to follow. Urahara’s hand slid up through the mess of orange hair as he pressed forward, running his tongue across lips and teeth before venturing deeper. Ichigo moaned, rough and low.
The sound penetrated Urahara’s lust fogged brain and he pulled away, panting heavily. “Kurosaki…”
“Ichigo.” The younger man corrected, moving in to recapture his lips.
“Ichigo,” he turned his face to the side, stalling the attack, “You need to go home. If you get some sleep you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Hm.”
The shinigami nudged his jaw with the tip of his nose, rubbing his cheek along the sharp line before latching his mouth onto the older man’s neck. He kissed a wet trail up the sweeping curve, his tongue flickering out occasionally to taste a patch of skin. He paused for a moment, his nose brushing the delicate hollow behind his ear, panting against his hair.
“I don’t want to go home, Kisuke.”
Urahara shivered at the way his name rolled off that tongue, at the voice rough and deep with need. That wickedly soft tongue slipped along the curve of his ear, teasing before he moved forward, sucking the lobe gently, worrying it with his teeth.
Hands slid to his chest, pushing his coat over his shoulders to hang loose at his elbows. Urahara's head fell back against the stone as the younger man scorched a trail down the side of his neck to his collarbone, his fingers dipping to work the tie on his shirt. There was a slight chill against his flesh as the cloth fell open, and Urahara tried desperately to collect his scattered thoughts.
“I-Ichigo, s-stop.” he stammered, trying for quiet authority but having to bite his lip when battle roughened hands snaked under his clothes to run up his back. “You’re upset. This i-isn’t how to deal with it.”
Ichigo made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, pushing the shirt over his shoulders to follow the coat. His lips traced down over the plane of the well defined chest and he paused briefly, angling his head so that he could look up at the other man. Holding those pale eyes locked with his he slowly flicked his tongue over a peach colored nipple, rolling it to a tight peak before tugging it gently between his teeth. Urahara hissed sharply, refusing to let his eyes slip closed under the weight of the sensation. Ichigo slid a wet trail across his chest and repeated the action on the other nipple, never breaking eye contact.
“Gods, Ichigo,” the older man groaned, “I’m not made of stone, you have to stop this before you get yourself into trouble.”
Ichigo smirked, dark and wicked against his skin and Urahara felt those rough fingertips slide lower, the muscles of his stomach flinching under the touch.
“I’m already in trouble, Kisuke.” Fingers dipped just below the waist of his pants before withdrawing to tease the tie that held them shut. “Maybe I’m just looking for a different kind for once.”
He straightened, eyes roaming the older man’s face as though searching for something secret and hidden. He leaned in again, slower this time, bringing their lips back into contact. One hand slid back up to tangle in that pale hair, while the other continued to tug the knot free. Something in Urahara crumbled and he let his arms fall to his sides, feeling the shirt and coat pool behind him on the ground. He brought his hands up to the sash at Ichigo’s waist, his skilled fingers making short work of the knot before brushing it carelessly aside. He slid under the edge of the cloth, peeling back both layers, running his fingertips over the burning flesh beneath. Ichigo whimpered and shrugged out of the clothes, letting them fall away without ever breaking the kiss.
Urahara slipped his hands around the naked back, palms splayed, crushing them together. The kiss turned hungry, needy, their tongues twisting and curling as they danced together. Urahara sucked Ichigo's tongue gently into his mouth and the younger man moaned, his hands finding their way back to his pants and tugging roughly. Urahara broke the kiss, gasping as the tie came free and Ichigo pushed the cloth down over his hips. Before he had time to think, Ichigo slid gracefully to his knees, bringing himself to eye level with the weeping tip of the older man’s arousal.
It was larger than he’d expected, bigger than his own and he knew he wasn’t small. He licked his lips and heard a ragged whimper slip from the man above him. Tentatively he leaned forward, flicking his tongue against the beads of moisture gathering in front of him, tasting the other man, feeling the shudder that ran through his body. Intrigued, he leaned in a bit more, swirling around the head before pulling it into his mouth. Urahara groaned out loud, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, the other bracing against the rock. Ichigo chucked darkly, pressing forward, taking more in before pulling back to roll his tongue against the hard flesh. Urahara couldn’t help the little sounds that slipped from his throat as the younger man began to slowly consume him, sucking and licking like he just couldn’t get enough of the taste.
After what seemed like an eternity of this slow torture, Ichigo pulled completely off with a wet pop and one final lick, resting his forehead against the older man’s thigh and panting heavily. Above him, Urahara was trembling, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as he tried to clear his mind.
“Kisuke?” The breath was hot and wet against his thigh.
“Hm?” Urahara opened eyes he couldn’t remember closing and looked down at the younger man who refused to meet his gaze.
“Will you fuck me, Kisuke?” the words were mumbled, soft and hesitant.
“W-What?” he knew he was being inarticulate, but the request had sent a jolt to his already aching cock and he was having trouble forming words.
Ichigo raised his head, his face betraying the first signs of uncertainty he’d shown all night. “I’ve never done this and I don’t want to fuck it up.”
A moment passed between them, their ragged breathing the only sound.
“I think maybe…” Urahara began, but ground to a halt when Ichigo leaned over to run his tongue up the underside of his now throbbing cock.
“Please.” It was as close to begging as he’d ever seen from the younger man.
“We don’t even have anything to…” he was cut off again as a small bottle was pressed into his hand. He stared down at the lube for a moment, fully understanding the implication of Ichigo having brought it.
He wanted to say no, to be stronger than he was, but those eyes burned into him and he felt himself breaking. Relenting, he slipped to his knees, pausing only to throw his coat out behind the younger man before pushing him back onto the cloth. Urahara leaned forward, deftly unwinding the ties of his hakama, and Ichigo lifted his hips to let the last of his clothing slip away. Growling softly in utter defeat, Urahara crawled the rest of the way up the lean body to ravage his soft mouth, lowering himself onto the hot, slick skin and wedging one leg between his thighs.
Ichigo whimpered, grinding himself against the pale stomach pressing against him, sinking his teeth into the fullness of his lower lip. Urahara hissed, drawing back and attacking his neck, licking and biting a hot trail downward as Ichigo twisted beneath him. He latched onto a nipple, rolling it with teeth and tongue and the younger man bucked, a harsh, strangled cry breaking free. Smirking at the response, Urahara continued to work the small nub, shifting slightly so that he could snake a hand down between their bodies. Ichigo’s eyes went wide when the warm fingers closed around his aching erection, and when the slightly rough pad of a thumb came up to smear his own moisture deliberately around his sensitive head he nearly screamed at the sensation.
“Fuck, Kisuke! I-I…fuck.” He was writhing, lost in the strange and electric feeling of the foreign touch.
Urahara released the nipple, resting his forehead against sweat dampened skin as he pumped his hand slowly, wringing more gasps and half-choked moans from the body beneath him. He was trying to hold onto his control, but it had been so long and that rough, sex-drugged voice that Ichigo kept using was starting to shut down his ability to think. If he didn’t get a hold of himself soon he was going to end up hurting this creature that was putting so much trust into him. Groaning, he moved lower, his tongue tracing along the lines of the ribs and the carefully etched muscles of the young stomach. Ichigo arched up against his mouth, a steady stream of cries and curses tumbling from his lips as he thrust into the hand moving around him.
“Gods, I never would have imagined you’d be so vocal.” Urahara growled thickly, licking the hollow of his hipbone and feeling his breathing go erratic.
Ichigo looked like he might respond but any clever words were cut off by a shout when Urahara closed his mouth over his straining length. Hands buried themselves in pale hair, the nails scratching against his scalp as Ichigo’s hips lifted fully off the ground. He shifted his weight again, kneeling between Ichigo's thighs, hand and lips working together in white hot harmony. Ichigo’s eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open as he panted out moans on every breath.
Urahara felt the last threads of his control slipping as he fumbled for the bottle, flipping it open and squeezing some of the fluid into his palm one-handed. Working the stuff up onto his fingers he reached down and gently stroked the skin just behind Ichigo’s scrotum, using his other hand to hold the writhing body still. Carefully, so that Ichigo would understand his intent, he slid the fingers lower, caressing, massaging. When he reached the small, puckered opening, Ichigo stilled momentarily, his eyes shooting open to lock with the grey-green gaze below. Urahara studied him intently, tongue still rolling gently against the underside of his cock. He slowly traced a circle around the tight ring of muscle, watching the play of emotion that ran across the younger man’s face. A slight smirk was the only warning Ichigo got as the older man suddenly relaxed his throat and swallowed him to the hilt, at the same time easing his middle finger into the waiting body.
“Oh gods…ngghh…Kisuke!” The hands in his hair tightened painfully as Ichigo adjusted to the intrusion.
He began to move, finger and mouth, fucking him slowly from both directions. It was getting hard to hold the lithe body down with just one hand, and the sounds coming from beneath him were taking on a note of urgency. He slipped another finger into the tight passage, pulling back off his cock and straightening to stare at him. Ichigo was watching him through half-lidded eyes, flushed and trembling with need. He scissored the fingers buried deep in his body, stretching him gently, and Ichigo's brow furrowed as he tried to relax against the strange sensation. Urahara's eyes narrowed as he twisted the digits, curling them slightly and Ichigo's eyes shot impossibly wide as a pleasure more intense then he’d ever known shot through every nerve in his body. Urahara added a third finger, pumping into him, brushing that same spot every few seconds until Ichigo was nearly screaming.
“Kisuke.” The voice went straight to his groin and he bit his lip against a whimper. “Please, Kisuke.”
It was all he could take. He pulled his fingers from the willing young body and grasped the legs on either side of him, drawing them up over his shoulders. Retrieving the bottle once again he coated himself with the slick oil, moaning deeply at the contact with his near painful flesh. Grabbing Ichigo by the hips he lifted him off the ground, positioning himself against the well slicked opening. Slowly, so as not to hurt the younger man he began to push forward, biting his own lip hard enough to draw blood as the head of his cock slipped past that tight ring of muscles and into the blinding heat. Ichigo screwed his eyes shut, expecting pain but none came; only a slow burn and a not entirely unpleasant stretching feeling. He opened his eyes and found Urahara bent over him, blood trickling from his lip, eyes closed in a grimace.
“Are you okay?” he reached up, brushing aside a lock of sweat dark hair.
“I think I’m supposed to be asking that.” Urahara’s chuckle trailed into a groan as Ichigo shifted experimentally.
Taking this as a sign that his body was adjusting, he gently eased himself back out of the tight opening, breathing slowly between his teeth before sliding back in. Ichigo hissed, his fingers twisting in the cloth beneath him as Urahara settled into a slow rhythm, trying to hold off the pressure building inside of him. Unable to remain still, Ichigo rocking his hips up to meet the thrusts, matching his pace as they moved together. The older man raised himself up a bit, shifting the angle of his thrusts and the body below him jerked violently.
“Oh, fuck.” Ichigo’s eyes had gone wide again and he couldn’t hold back the yelp as Urahara thrust into him again, his back arching off the ground as the wave of pleasure passed.
Urahara’s thrusts became more erratic as he picked up his pace, pounding into the willing body below. Each stroke wrung a cry out of the younger man and each cry pushed him a little closer to the edge. Ichigo’s knuckles had gone white where he still gripped the cloth, his head thrown back and his body thrashed out of his control.
“Harder, Kisuke, fuck…ahhh…gods. Please.” He was beyond caring what he sounded like, lost in the pleasure that was bordering on pain.
Urahara slammed into him, moaning roughly and biting his lip again as he felt his eyes roll back in his head. He was close; he needed to finish Ichigo before he completely lost control. He brought his hand up, licking across him palm and fingers before slipping between their bodies to grasp Ichigo’s thoroughly drenched cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. The younger man threw his head back and half screamed half shouted his release into the empty room; hot, viscous fluids jetting across Urahara’s hand and up his own chest. The older man groaned as the younger body closed around him like a vice. He managed only two more wild thrusts before he poured himself into Ichigo, mouth open on a soundless cry. He collapsed forward, barely managing to catch himself before he crushed his partner.
Flinching as he pulled free of the still trembling body Urahara rolled to the side, falling gracelessly onto the heavily rumpled coat next to Ichigo. They lay panting for awhile in silence, both lost in their own individual thoughts. Urahara, for his part, was already starting to feel the guilt of having given in so easily. He winced, eyes squeezing shut as he realized that he’d very probably just taken the virginity of an old friend’s child. Morbidly, he found himself wondered where Ichigo could have learned to kiss like that even as he realized that Isshin would very likely kill him if he ever found out what had just transpired. Beside him, Ichigo stirred, sitting up and using the corner of the thoroughly soiled coat to clean himself up a bit.
“Ichigo, I think we should probably talk about this.” Urahara sat up, too, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands as he watched the younger man pulling on his clothes.
“Can we talk later, there’s something I have to do?” He didn’t wait for an answer before heading in the direction of the rock that housed Zangetsu.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Urahara lay quietly in bed, hair still damp from the shower, listening to the water running in the next room. By the time he’d made his way upstairs Ichigo had already been outside, standing under the stars seemingly deep in thought. Sighing, Urahara had made his way to the bathroom, letting the shower wash away some of the incriminating evidence and giving himself more time to think. He’d been surprised to find Ichigo still there when he emerged, asking if was okay to use the shower. In retrospect, he realized that it would have been a bad idea for Ichigo to go home smelling like sweat and sex.
The water turned off and Urahara shut his eyes, rolling over to face the wall as if he could somehow hide from the truth that way. He had never been one to stick to the rules, but he was fairly certain that ‘thou shall not fuck your friend's kids through the floor’ was one that even he should be living by. He heard his door slide open and then closed again. There was a soft chink of metal against wood and the sound of something being tossed into a chair.
“Did you want to talk now?” Urahara’s voice was soft in the darkness.
“Not really.”
The bed dipped slightly as Ichigo sat down, lifting the covers so that he could slide in next to the other man. He was naked and still damp from the shower. Urahara wished he’d taken the time to pull on his own robe.
“Don’t you have to be home?” He tried to keep his voice calm as the younger man spooned behind him, sliding a hand down to rest on his hip.
“I called my dad and told him I was staying with a friend,” he murmured, brushing his nose through the damp blond hair.
Urahara tried not to think about him having to call home, because it reminded him of how truly young Ichigo really was. They had all been through so much that the lines of maturity had become badly blurred, but sometimes, like this moment, it all came back into sharp contrast. Behind him, Ichigo was still nuzzling him gently; his body shifting against him in a way that made his brain forget all the good reasons to keep more distance between them. The hand on his hip trailed up, threading through his hair, pulling is aside so that hot lips could move along his neck. His breath hitched as a shiver passed through his body and his chin dropped forward unconsciously, granting him better access. The mouth moved lower, nipping at his spine, and the hand slipped back down his body, circling around his waist to pull him closer. He moaned, he couldn’t help it.
“This isn’t an answer, you know,” Urahara ground out, eyes squeezing shut as Ichigo bit into the top of his shoulder. “It won’t make anything easier.”
“Yeah, but it’ll make it different.” Ichigo tugged at him gently, pulling him onto his back so that he could crawl over him. “That’s enough for now.”
He leaned down, bringing their mouths together and ending the need for any more discussion. Urahara’s arms came around him, one cupping the back of his skull and the other dipping lower to pull him down, grinding their growing erections together. He knew that he would likely regret it later, but for now Ichigo was right, this was enough.
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Falling Into Darkness