[Bleach] Urahara/Rukia, NC-17
Sequel to this fic, which apparently does not count as Urahara/Rukia because they never actually touch. So this is written per that h0rjaina's request yesterday.
Unbetaed, ~2200 words; expect periodic edits.
Urahara took a last drag from his pipe, tapping it out on the carved ashtray at his side. The shop was empty for once, and he was savoring the quiet. A lamp in the corner threw long shadows across the room, softening the edges of a normally rather stark room.
At the front of the shop, he heard the door slide open and closed. It wasn't loud, but the guest was making no effort to hide their presence. Quick, firm steps made their way unerringly towards where he sat until the door across from him slid open sharply.
He smiled, pulling out his fan. "Ah, Kuchiki-san. It's always so nice to see you."
Kuchiki Rukia glared at him from the doorway. Although it was evening, she still wore her school uniform and her normally pale cheeks were flushed.
"And how may I be of service to you, Kuchiki-san? Are you low on supplies? Is your gigai in need of repair? Ah!" He snapped the fan shut, tapping his lips. "Perhaps Kuchiki-san needs the hot springs once again?"
Her fists clenched at that. "You know exactly why I am here," she said, her voice low and rough.
"Kuchiki-san..." Urahara shook his head, tucking his fan away. "I certainly pride myself on meeting the needs of all of my guests to the best of my ability, but as yet I have not gained the power to read minds." He adjusted his hat, allowing the brim's shadow to fall back from his eyes. "If Kuchiki-san is in need of something I can provide, she will need to say so. That way we can both be satisfied that she is getting only what she desires and no more."
Rukia lifted her chin and fixed a cool, dispassionate, utterly Kuchiki look on him. She reached back, sliding the door closed. Holding his gaze, she walked towards him, bringing that glorious scrap of fabric that passed for a skirt right to his eye level. He watched her, a faint, inquiring smile on his lips as she lifted the hat from his head, dropping it to the ground without a glance.
Urahara waited, his hands planted on either side of him as she looked down, resting her hands on his shoulders. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his, and he was careful not to smile against her mouth as he kissed her back; push her too much and she would certainly bolt. There was a faint line between her large eyes when she pulled back, affront at her own actions written all over her face.
"Oh my, Kuchiki-san," he murmured. "I find myself quite at a loss."
"You are no such thing," she snapped, straightening and glaring down at him once again. "You must think me a fool, that I would not realize what you were doing."
"Not at all, Kuchiki-san. I have the utmost respect for your intelligence and strength of will." He lifted a hand, sliding it up over her calf and past her knees to the smooth skin of her thigh, her muscles quivering beneath his hand. "Is it so wrong what I've done? Making my appreciation for Kuchiki-san known?"
She didn't respond, but he could feel her fighting to remain still as his fingers began to move in ever-widening circles over her skin. His other hand joined the first, thumbs brushing the crease where her thighs met her pelvis.
Her breath grew harsh as he stroked her hips, pulling her panties down to just above her knees. Rukia locked her legs, seemingly determined not to show him any reaction whatsoever. Urahara didn't mind, not this early. After all, it wouldn't last.
He ran one hand around to her buttocks, ostensibly for support, as his other hand slid between her legs.
"Oh my, Kuchiki-san," he said again, his smile wide. She was far more wet than he'd expected. "How thrilling."
"I do not recall this activity requiring quite so much talking," Rukia growled, her cheeks bright red.
He sighed, one hand sliding to the zipper at her hip. "I suppose not." He let her skirt fall to the ground and tugged her panties down a moment later. He forbore mentioning the adorable bunnies prancing around the waistband.
Minute tremors went through her legs as he ran his palms back up to the curves of her ass. Urahara knew she'd be expecting him to be gentle, teasing, to draw out her reaction over an extended period. He brought her forward to his mouth, then sucked on her clit--hard.
Rukia swayed forward, dragging the fabric of his top up his back as she gasped. He smiled; he did so hate to be predictable.
"Careful," he murmured, lowering her to the floor. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she turned her head to one side as he quickly removed her shirt and bra, leaving her totally bare. He admired her slight curves and long legs for a moment, and her dark eyes watched him warily even as she fought not to pant against his hands. He watched her face as he pushed two fingers inside her. She was small, but more than wet enough to accept them.
Rukia hunched up towards his hand, clenching her fists against the floor. He mouthed one breast, then the other, gently biting the nipple before moving back between her legs. When he touched his mouth to her, she let out a long, shuddering sigh and wound her fingers in his hair. Her hips raised off the floor, and he slid his hands beneath her buttocks in order to better position her.
It was certainly a good thing Kuchiki-san was so small--it made it much easier to hold her in place as she squirmed and bucked against his tongue. It took almost no time at all before she came; sharp, involuntary noises burst from her lips as she arched, her slender throat bared. Urahara sat up while she panted, stroking her hip as she came back to herself.
"My...how long was Kuchiki-san walking around in such a state?" He leaned back, licking his lips as she sat up, her breath still ragged and her eyes intent. "That must have been incredibly uncomfortable."
"You're still dressed," she muttered, looking as though she wanted to cover herself.
"Ah, yes, well. I insist on seeing to my guests first, after all." He shifted, knowing she could see full well how hard he was. "Now, Kuchiki-san...is there anything else I can assist you with?"
She gave him a sour look before reaching forward and pulling on the tie that held his top closed. "Gods, be silent," she huffed.
Urahara smiled slowly, allowing her to pull off his clothing and push him to his back. "Kuchiki-san is so assertive," he purred, looking up as she straddled him.
Rukia rolled her eyes and he hummed at the sight of her small hand wrapped around his cock. She rose up on her knees and slowly, slowly lowered herself onto him. She was...incredibly small, and he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting for control.
Urahara set his hands lightly on her hips, allowing her to set the pace for the time being. She knew her own limitations better than he, and he would certainly never be so ungentlemanly as to make this unpleasant for her.
She finally took all of him, digging her fingers into his thighs as he hit bottom. "Ura--hara," she moaned, dragging herself back up along his cock.
"How unkind," he sighed as he gently thrust back against her. "Can't you bring yourself to call me Kisuke, Kuchiki-san?"
"No," she growled, slapping a hand over his mouth. He kissed her palm, knowing she could feel him smile against her skin.
The front door to the shop opened once again and loud voices sounded from the front entry. "Yo, Urahara-san? You in?" Ichigo called.
"Man," Renji complained. "Figures, I'm starved."
Rukia's thighs clamped around his hips as she jerked, startled.
"Kuchiki-san," he said firmly. "A moment, if you would." She went still despite herself, unconsciously responding to the authority in his voice. He wound an arm around her waist and sat up. Rukia reflexively grabbed his forearms, her panting breath quick and moist against his chest.
Urahara concentrated--pushing aside Rukia's considerable charms with no little difficulty--and cast a barrier surrounding them. The kidou construct shimmered for just a moment before seeming to disappear.
"A barrier?" She asked hoarsely as he lay her on her back once again.
"I would rather not be interrupted," he said, rolling his hips forward. Rukia gave a low moan and raised her hips to meet his.
Urahara tapped her mouth with a finger. "Ah-ah, Kuchiki-san," he told her, never losing his smooth rhythm. "This barrier blocks reiatsu, but sound can escape just fine."
Her eyes went wide and she glared at him. "Then why do you not rectify that?"
"A barrier of that sort takes more concentration than I am willing to spare right now," he said, his breath coming a bit short. "Something like this, I can do in my sleep. Something like that...well, Kuchiki-san deserves nothing less than my undivided attention."
She looked as though she wanted to argue, before her mouth pursed in something that was most definitely not a pout. "Fine," she breathed.
"It really is too bad," he mused, speeding up. "To be denied hearing Kuchiki-san's lovely voice raised in pleasure. Not to belittle the sight of your luminous eyes," he pressed a kiss to the corner of one eye, "or the feel of your delicate frame against my own," he ran a thumb over one nipple.
Rukia dug her nails into his shoulder, her eyes darting around as Ichigo and Renji began to argue a few rooms away. It seemed she could not decide whether or not the risk of exposure was enhancing the experience.
Urahara took pity on her; he did want her to enjoy this, after all. He changed the angle of his hips, hitting her clit with his pelvic bone every time he slid inside her. His thrusts were short and fast and he could feel her trembling and fighting to keep her cries as low as possible.
Her hand slid from his neck down to his shoulder, and she let out a low wail, just barely keeping her lips together.
He took her small wrists and pressed them to the ground next to her head. "Kuchiki-san," he crooned, snapping his hips forward. "You simply must stay quiet."
Her mouth dropped open as she inhaled in shock, and he gave a soft, wordless growl as her inner muscles squeezed him almost impossibly tight. It was a good thing those boys were as dense as they were; Urahara was certain the soft, wet sounds of his body slapping against hers were quite audible from outside this room.
Rukia bucked against him, and Urahara swooped down to swallow her cry as her orgasm hit; one heel dug into the small of his back while the other struck his leg again and again. That was sure to leave a bruise.
He gave a quiet groan of satisfaction as he came, careful not to fall onto her as the strength went out of his arms.
They lay side by side for a few moments, each catching their breath. Urahara felt warm and mellow, and for now at least, Rukia's face was smooth and almost content.
He raised himself, resting on his elbows, then leaned over and kissed her forehead. Her flush deepened and he chuckled at her look of surprise.
The voices in the other room grew louder, then something crashed to the ground. "Asshole!" Renji shouted. "I already owe that sketchy bastard enough without you breaking shit around here!"
Urahara sighed. "I certainly don't want to rush you, Kuchiki-san," he said, his voice apologetic, "but it sounds as though we'll be needed shortly."
Rukia rolled her eyes. "Of course," she muttered, her voice still a bit hoarse. "Those fools are helpless on their own." She carefully stood, then began to gather her clothes. She frowned at her underwear, obviously disliking the idea of putting them back on in her current state.
"If you like, Kuchiki-san," he said, sitting up. "You may use the springs downstairs before you rejoin your comrades."
She blinked. "I--thank you." He'd managed to surprise her once again.
He stood and pulled on his pants as she put on her shirt and skirt. "There is another entrance to the training room in the next room." He motioned towards a door leading towards the back of the house as he picked up his top. "I can let your comrades know you will be up shortly."
She gave him a short nod. "Fine." She looked as though she might want to say something else, then simply turned and went through the door.
Urahara smiled to himself as he walked to the bath, careful not to alert the young men that he was around just yet. Once he was presentable, he could see to his recently arrived guests...and judging by the sounds of fighting and arguing, he had little time to spare.
It had certainly been a pleasant interlude, but duty called once again.