A/N: I'll update my other stuff soon. I'm just out of it and have a lot going on, including graduation, finding a new job, moving out, fighting with friends and family, and generally trying to decide what the fuck I'm going to do with my life now that I have a degree. Fucking useless shit. -TPP

Tipping The Scales

Chapter 2: Baiting the Hook

Urahara laid on the couch, freshly bathed, the tv on low as he watched the red numbers of the clock turn over.

10:51.

"I appreciate it, Starrk."

His best friend since high school and next-door neighbor nodded with a hum, his eyes heavy with sleeplessness, "Any time, Kiki."

"You ever going to stop calling me that?"

Starrk's grin was infectious, "Not a chance."

Urahara smiled, his first genuine smile since the news nearly 6 hours prior. He hadn't given Starrk details, but he knew something important was going on. Jinta had already passed out on his calculus textbook in his room, and if he woke up, Starrk was no stranger and tended to crash on their couch all the time. Even if Jinta was sixteen in two days, Urahara still didn't like leaving him home alone to sleep at night.

Urahara stood up and donned a green hoodie, knowing the temperature continued to drop at night this time of year, "Thanks again, Starrk."

"Should I be worried, Kiki?" Starrk asked.

Urahara managed a small half-hearted smile. Starrk was too intelligent for his own good, "Not yet."

Exactly sixty seconds after Urahara emerged outside his apartment complex, a dark grey Mercedes pulled forward. Urahara assumed it was for him as it continued to idle and an expensive car like that in such a slummy neighborhood screamed Yakuza.

So without any further ado, he opened the back door and slipped onto the cool leather, noting that his driver was a silver-haired man with slitted eyes.

"Mah, small world, ain't it, Urahara?"

"Gin. What a pleasant surprise," Urahara said, his face guarded although he kept his voice light and playful, "It's been, what? Six years?"

"Hai. Ya look good, Urahara-sensei."

Urahara smiled sadly as Gin pulled out of the complex and onto a side street.

"I'm assuming that degree in chemical engineering didn't work out?"

"Mah, 'course it did, but I like ma' job. I owe buchou my life. 'Sides, it's extra cash 'ta do somethin' I love even more than chemistry," Gin said with a sickly sweet smile. He wouldn't trouble his young professor with what he had learned about cetain chemical compounds with his victims. Urahara was the smartest, youngest physics professor he had ever had. He was only six years younger than the blonde genius.

"So…what business ya got 'wit buchou? Must be big if I'm takin' ya 'ta the penthouse."

Urahara fought a smile, "You were never good at lying, Gin. It's disappointing to see you snooping."

Gin's smile was snakelike, "Mah, sensei, don' be so mean."

"You know perfectly well what a midnight rendezvous means. I know it too, although I wish it could be different. We all have our cards to play."

"Strange though. Yer pretty, sensei, but he never brings men 'ta the penthouse."

Urahara shrugged, ignoring Gin the rest of the quiet ride.

Urahara was escorted to the penthouse suite in one of the swankiest buildings in the Seretei District, a district renowned for its high money and highbrow society. Urahara didn't even feel like he was worthy enough to be riding in the elevator much less be staying in the penthouse suite.

Gin let himself in with a key and ushered Urahara into what Urahara thought was the main living room but was actually a den (he had never seen such a large den in his life) and the room was extremely Spartan: no wall decorations, no extra pillows on the two large brown leather couches, not even a clock. What was the point of living in such an extravagant district and apartment if you didn't make it match the decorating? Besides the large flat screen tv, the room held no other form of entertainment or eye-catching materialism.

"No more calls. Forward everything to Kuchiki or Kensei," a familiar deep rumble said as it passed into the sitting room, "No more disruptions. Next person 'ta leave me a voicemail is getting their balls removed with safety scissors."

Kenpachi dropped the expensive touch screen phone onto an empty side table, his dark eyes landing on Urahara for only a second before he made his way to the large bar built into the wall, picking up and pouring himself some of what was probably two hundred dollar whiskey, "Thanks, Gin. Take the night off."

Gin bowed, smiled, and left silently. Urahara sat quietly on the couch, his nerves starting to get the better of him as he waited in the silence. Kenpachi downed the whiskey before pouring two more and holding one out for him, wiggling it slightly, "Even if ya don't drink hard shit, you do not wanna pass this brand up. Trust me."

Urahara decided that it would probably do his fluttering stomach some good. He stood up and approached the intimidating man, noticing that he was wearing dark slacks and a light grey button down shirt. Did the man ever stop working?

After Urahara drank his, Kenpachi was already pouring two more, offering him a second small glass.

It had been good, but despite what he was here to do, Urahara would keep his wits about him. The situation was too dangerous for anything less than vigilance.

"No thank you. I don't think I could afford the cleaning bill for this place if my stomach decided to protest."

Kenpachi chuckled and shrugged, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "Suit yourself."

Kenpachi held the last cup and loosened his black tie with the other, making Urahara feel something tug in his stomach. True, it was no secret that Urahara preferred men, but he had never been…attracted?...to one such as Kenpachi. He preferred lean, slender builds.

Ukes. Screaming, boisterous ukes who liked to be spoiled and coddled. Urahara hadn't had a relationship since taking Jinta in, and if he did, they were one night stands or scheduled fucks during lunch breaks, especially now that Jinta was old enough to know that his father was still young enough to want sex as much as the next teenager.

Urahara shook his head. This most definitely was not a relationship. Thinking like that would only lead to confusion, guilt, or hurt feelings in the long run.

This was prostitution. Kenpachi was a willing sugar daddy with what was clearly plenty of money. Urahara would pay his debts, clear his credit as well as his honor, then move on with his life with Jinta to the best of his abilities and try not to be traumatized over what Kenpachi would probably do to him.

Urahara understood: Kenpachi was no uke. No way in hell.

"Only two rules: one, the name's Kenpachi. Not Zaraki, not Z, not buchou, and don't even think about calling me Kenny. Two, I call, you show. I don't care if you're sick as a dog or in bed with Beyonce*, I call, you show."

Urahara nodded once, wondering if he should just start stripping now or…no, Kenpachi looked like the kind of man that just took what he wanted.

Urahra watched him wrestle his tie off and let it fall on the bar before nodding what was left of his drink at Urahara, "Good boy. Now go cook me something 'ta eat. I'm starving."

Urahara watched the man walk out of the room, unbuttoning his shirt as he went, completely ignoring Urahara's blubbered attempts at understanding the situation.

"But I - I'm a terrible cook!"

Kenpachi turned back towards him, his shirt completely unbuttoned now, exposing a wide, intricately-scarred chest and an insane six pack with an abdomen that could probably be hit with a semi truck and not flinch. Fuck the man looked good.

Kenpachi grinned, "Don't play games with me, princess. I haven't eaten all day. I want something waiting for me by the time I get out of the shower."

Intimidation worked wonders.

Urahara swept around the amazing kitchen looking for pots and pans, digging through the fridge and terrified that he would screw this up. If anything, he'd set the place on fire and not only piss the Yakuza off but add onto his already incredible debt.

But…it made him wonder if the Yakuza had plans for him other than treating him like a personal chef. From the way he had been touching earlier, Urahara had assumed…

Urahara jumped to attention when he smelled the bacon sizzling. Urahara wasn't a fan of bacon and eggs, but it was about the only thing he could manage to cook for Jinta without destroying the kitchen.

He was proud he managed not to burn the toast (he was cursed: even toasters refused to cooperate with him most of the time) and he sprinkled some cheese on the eggs. He placed the mound of bacon onto the side of the plate, and buttered the toast.

He was pouring a glass of orange juice when Kenpachi emerged in a white tee and plain grey sweatpants, his hair wet and his body wash something that was sweetly spicy.

It made Urahara's head all fuzzy, but he couldn't say it was bad.

Kenpachi said nothing as he picked up the plate and brought it into the living room, flicking on the gigantic flat screen tv and making himself comfortable on the couch. Urahara watched him, dumbfounded, as he settled on a sports network and devoured everything in front of him.

"You gonna take a seat or stand there all night?" Kenpachi asked, sucking his fingers clean of bacon grease.

Urahara tried to ignore the tightening in his pants at the thought of that giant tongue.

"If you'd like me to."

"Does it really matter what I want?"

Urahara didn't know what to say to that, so he took a seat on the couch. He would've preferred to sit on the other couch, but he would have had to pass Kenpachi to get there, and that would have looked not only weak but stupid.

Twenty minutes in and boring sports news later (Urahara barely watched tv, and he didn't care for football at all) he nearly jumped out of his skin when Kenpachi began talking.

"Relax. Yer stiffer than a wall. The big bad yakuza meanie isn't gonna do anything."

Urahara's eyes went wide, "Excuse me?"

Kenpachi looked at him, remote control in one large hand, "I'm not in the business of rape, if that's what you're worried about. Not my cup of tea, so would you relax? I'm tired and all your tension is gonna make me cranky."

Urahara finally managed to relax after a few more minutes of mindless sports chatter, leaning back into the cushions and letting his mind drift.

But eventually, his mind couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"There has to be something you want. No chef, especially a bad one, makes this kind of cash."

Kenpachi smirked, making Urahara swallow, "Who said that's all you'll be doing?"

"If you don't want to sleep with me, then why…?"

"Never said that either."

"But you said-"

"Never said I wouldn't fuck you."

Urahara fought a losing battle with his blush, "Ah, so is this some kind of psych 101? Showing me a domesticated yakuza so that you'll gain my trust and I'll snuggle up to you and forget that you manipulated me into this situation? I'm sorry but Stockholm Syndrome is extremely unattractive."

Urahara immediately regretted what he had said when Kenpachi's arm shot out and wrapped around his throat, dragging him back towards him and practically pulling him into his lap before he lightened his hold, his other hand anchored into Urahara's hair.

"You agreed 'ta this, princess. Nobody manipulated you into going into debt with a loan shark. No one forced you into that car. Gin didn't hand cuff you and throw you into a dungeon. Is that what you want? You want me to hurt you, beat you, fuck you hard so that you can place all the blame on me? Too bad, princess, the real world doesn't let you walk away from your obligations and problems. Ya walked right into the jaws of hell on your own two feet. You want out? You wanna walk away from this domesticated yakuza?" the way he growled 'domesticated' had Kisuke half hard, although he'd never admit it, "You want to let your son down, your store down? Well there's the fuckin' door."

Kenpachi let go of him, watching as Urahara rolled off the couch and breathed, trying to fight off the sting of tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry."

Urahara couldn't help it. He started sobbing, the weight of responsibility, of regret, crushing him. He was usually good at hiding emotion, used to keeping a cheery, carefree façade for the world to see, but something in Kenpachi's voice (disgust? Disappointment?) was extremely upsetting to Urahara.

"Christ."

Urahra yelped as Kenpachi picked him up and set him on the couch and pulled his head into his lap, rubbing his hair out of his face soothingly.

Kisuke sniffled, trying not to let the tears roll down his face as the yakuza continued to gently run his fingers over Urahara's scalp.

Scary. A moment ago this position had freaked the hell out of him, and now…

"I'm sorry."

Kenpachi gripped his hair, making Urahara cry out and his back bend in pleasure. Hair-tugging was one of his extreme sexual weaknesses.

"Don't tell me, show me."

Kenpachi's grip loosened and Urahara rolled over his position, now face-to-face with Kenpachi's lap. The pants he was wearing were loose, so Urahara tugged at the draw strings and pulled out the largest soft cook he had ever seen. He really hoped Kenpachi didn't get much bigger when erect or his virgin ass was in serious trouble.

"Staring at it isn't gonna get it hard, kid."

Urahara tipped his head up, his blond hair falling over one eye as he licked his lips. He had planned on telling the yakuza he was a grown man, but the licking of the lips and the infamous grey eyes of Urahara Kisuke seemed to be doing a good job all on their own.

Then Urahara swallowed his pride and pretended he was back in college and experimenting. He gagged a few times, but that was to be expected. He had a terrible reflex, and his past partners had never asked for it, so it wasn't like he was a pro.

But he couldn't help but feel proud as Kenpachi's cock began to expand in his mouth as Urahara's other hand began to stroke at the base, massaging over his balls when he realized he wouldn't be able to get it all in on the first few goes (he wasn't sure a human throat could accommodate such a girth).

He startled when he felt Kenpachi's hand in his hair again, tugging gently and making Urahara moan.

"Damn. Not bad, newbie."

Urahara pulled off Kenpachi's cock, drool and a bit of pre-cum rolling down his chin as he looked up at Kenpachi in disbelief, not sure if he was pissed off or not that Kenpachi called him on his cock-sucking skills, "Well excuse me: I didn't make a profession out of this."

"A bit more practice, princess, and ya could. Not that I'd allow it. You're mine."

Maybe it was wrong, but the way Kenpachi had said that made Urahara's gut burn and his cock twitch. He licked at the pulsating nearly purple head again before going back to aggressive bobbing and sucking, his mouth really beginning to get tired and his lips sore as hell.

Urahara shuddered as he felt one of Kenpachi's large warm hands settle on the base of his spine. It didn't seem sexual at all, and it was rather soothing to Urahara as he continued to pleasure the yakuza, Kenpachi's fingers massaging his spine into butter.

He gasped and gagged when Kenpachi's curious fingers found their way underneath jeans and boxers, exploring the cold flesh of his ass.

"I bet you ten thousand yen I can get you off without touching your dick."

Urahara sucked in another breath as Kenpachi tugged at his pants, forcing his jeans to move back enough to expose the globes of his ass. He was still on his knees, breathing onto a straining cock of a yakuza, and Urahara realized he had probably never been this hard in his life.

"I don't think it's a good idea to gamble with money I don't have," Urahara finally managed, his throat burning.

"You just afraid I'll win?"

"I know the power of the prostate, Kenpachi. You're not my first man."

Kenpachi grinned, "Now comes the speech about being a seme, huh?"

"Well, yes, I've never-"

Urahara sucked on his teeth as Kenpachi's now wet fingers(had he sucked on them when Urahara wasn't paying attention?) ran in small circles around Urahara's puckered entrance. He instinctually bucked away from it, but at the same time, he pushed back, the friction in his jeans on his cock counteracting the foreignness of what Kenpachi was trying to achieve.

"Did I say you could quit sucking?"

Urahara rolled his eyes before going back to paying respect to Kenpachi's cock, sucking and nipping halfheartedly until he felt Kenpachi slip a finger in, making Urahara arch his back and hiss at the intrusion.

"Relax, princess."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have a finger currently shoved up your ass."

"You'll be singing a different tune in about sixty seconds."

Urahara rolled his eyes again, his scientific brain scrambling to calculate the probability of Kenpachi's hypothesis coming true when he felt Kenpachi shove in another finger. This time Urahara keened, the burning feeling so uncomfortable even the friction on his dick wasn't helping much at this point.

"It hurts!"

"Of course it hurts, idiot, but you'll feel good in a second."

"Your minute is running out, Kenpachi."

Kenpachi only grunted and shoved Urahara back down on his cock with his hand that wasn't currently hunting down an elusive prostate gland and Urahara growled around Kenpachi's cock, making the larger man laugh breathily.

"You're definitely a hellcat, Kisuke. I like that."

The husked praise went straight to Urahara's dick. It was like he was becoming a whore overnight. He tried to concentrate on getting Kenpachi off (the sooner the better) but Kenpachi's fingers were starting to rub deep, and then…

Urahara let go of Kenpachi's cock with a pop, throwing his head back and arching his back, his hips cantering against Kenpachi's fingers without him even realizing he was doing it.

"Oh god, oh god oh god oh god, oh shit-nnn…nah," Urahara cursed as Kenpachi rubbed mercilessly at Urahara's prostate, "N-no, no, stop, K-Kenpachi, I can't…"

"Should've got you naked first," Kenpachi offered, removing his fingers and listening to Urahara pant and moan at the removal, "Sit up."

Urahara complied, barely conscious of his body's jerky movements as Kenpachi quickly divested Urahara of his hoodie and t-shirt and helped him shimmy out of his jeans and boxers. Naked and extremely hard, Urahara knew he was blushing like a virgin as Kenpachi stroked his own cock languidly, just studying Urahara's body.

"Come 'ere, gorgeous."

Urahara's heart jumped, his cock and ass twitching for more attention.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Kisuke! Don't be stupid! They're just words!

"Straddle me," Kenpachi instructed, helping Urahara balance as he climbed over the couch.

Urahara was sure this was going to hurt like a bitch and probably wasn't the best position for his anal virginity, but his body was hot and his ass was aching and he just wanted it all to stop.

Besides, as soon as they got off, he was sure he would be allowed to leave.

He didn't want to think about how that made him feel.

Kenpachi gripped his cock as he lowered himself, Urahara's breath fanning across his face as he balanced using Kenpachi's wide shoulders.

Kenpachi grabbed the pale hips and lowered him, watching as Urahara's eyes closed and his mouth opened in what was definitely a pained pleasure.

He was halfway when Urahara was panting so hard he thought the kid was going to have a heart attack.

"Ah, Kenpachi, I can- I cannnnnn't…hmmm…"

"You're so good. Time 'ta be a big boy now, Kisuke."

Kisuke's eyes snapped open at his name, Kenpachi reading nothing but lust and maybe a bit of challenge.

"You're going to rip me open," Urahara murmured, his arms now wrapped around Kenpachi's shoulders, his sweat-slicked chest against Kenpachi's t-shirt, "I-it real-hnnnnn, Kenpachi…"

And the way he whispered his name, now that, that was the last straw for Zaraki Kenpachi.

He eased himself the rest of the way in, praying to all the kami in heaven that he didn't blow his load upon having himself completely engulfed in the ass virgin's heat.

"Holy shit, newbie. I'm gonna cream you're so fucking tight."

Urahara canted his hips, twisting a little to get more comfortable, his ass positively burning at the stretch, but it was so deep he felt like all his insides were being scratched, "Unh, m-maybe you c-could move, now?"

Kenpachi chuckled, pistoning his hips once and watching Urahara's face contort in pleasure, "You're in charge here, cupcake. You wanna get off, I suggest you start moving those hips with me."

Urahara should have been able to make an argument about that, but his brain wasn't working properly and all he could think about was the heat inside of him and the tightness and god wouldn't the ache just go away?

And then he said something he thought he would ever ask a yakuza, "Kiss me, please?"

Kenpachi thought he'd say no: he usually did. Hell, he'd only kissed his ex wife a handful of times in their six-year relationship and he'd never kissed a toy.

So he chalked it up to not having gotten off in over four weeks. Kenpachi had a hell of a sex drive, but he'd been so busy and tired lately even he couldn't make the time or effort for sex, and despite what people assumed about him, he wouldn't sleep with just anybody off the fucking street.

So why the hell had he picked this crazy shopkeeper to begin with? He had simply laid eyes on him and decided he wanted him, and that was that.

It was still uncharacteristic behavior for the yakuza.

Kenpachi didn't want to think about falling for him. That 'first sight' shit always made him gag, but he had to admit, his body was definitely in lust with this young blonde-haired broke dad.

So when Urahara moaned and latched onto his bottom lip, all thought processes flew out the fucking proverbial window.

Kenpachi managed to stand up with Urahara still in his arms, his legs now wrapped tightly around him as he got to the floor between the couch and coffee table and fucked the poor kid through the expensive imported Tibetan rug.

Kenpachi couldn't remember the last time he'd been so turned on by screaming, but Urahara was making him wish he had recorded this to be enjoyed on his ipod on a business flight later that week.

Fuck, the kid had a sweet set of lungs.

"Oh god, Kenpa – nnnn, there! There there there!" Urahara sobbed, his fingers tugging harshly on Kenpachi's hair. The action usually agitated Kenpachi: he was a rough fucker, but the hair tugging had always been nothing but a distraction from what his dick was after.

But right now, he couldn't stop staring at Urahara's totally unguarded face. Had this kid seriously never been fucked stupid before? Kenpachi couldn't believe how lucky he'd been to bag this 'seme' if this was the result: he was totally gorgeous everywhere, especially his face, his eyes hooded and his hair fanning out and sweaty. Kenpachi had probably never fucked a guy this gorgeous. He'd fucked a few pretty boys, but Kisuke had something else, a spark of something, even a smell that turned Kenpachi on.

Without any warning, Urahara let out one more scream before coming between them, a hand scrambling for his cock as it leaked and Kenpachi's thrusts didn't stop.

He placed a hand under Kisuke's left knee, giving him better leverage as he continued to pound into Kisuke with a slurping, slapping noise.

He was usually good to go for a while like this, but the second Kisuke moaned and hooked his pointer and middle finger into his mouth and gasped, Kenpachi lost it.

"Fuck," he growled, shoving himself as deep as he could as he felt himself explode. He couldn't resist moving a few more times, snapping his hips as he felt his own hot cum begin to dribble out and down the sides of his new and only playmate.

He finally pulled all the way out, his fingers probing at Urahara's wet ass. Urahara cried out weakly as he fished inside, letting more cum fall out onto his hand before leaning forward and pushing his wet fingers into Urahara's mouth, "Suck it all up, princess."

Surprisingly, Urahara couldn't find the will to protest. He stuck his tongue out and lapped at Kenpachi's fingers before grabbing his wrist and sucking the fingers all the way into his mouth, sighing when he couldn't taste the salty liquid anymore and letting the hand go to lay against his naked chest.

"Fuck. You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?" Kenpachi asked, hoping Urahara was still so high from his orgasm that he wouldn't notice the reverent tone.

"Mmm. Shower…" Urahara mumbled, already closing his eyes.

"How 'bout a bath? I don't want to listen to you bitch tomorrow about your back and ass."

Kenpachi disappeared to run the water into his Jacuzzi tub before coming back to retrieve the nearly asleep Kisuke. He mumbled and sighed a lot, but Kenpachi didn't mind carrying him. He settled Kisuke into the now-full tub and lowered himself behind him, telling himself the entire time that this did not make them exclusive lovers.

"That was good," Urahara sighed, resting his head back on Kenpachi's chest, "I mean, really good."

"Careful what you say, princess. I might not give you time to recover," Kenpachi said, rubbing his hands over Kisuke's legs soothingly.

"I love your bathtub," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"You love my cock."

"You know, I had really hoped that I wouldn't."

Kenpachi chuckled, the vibrations making Urahara's eyes flutter open only to rest half-lidded.

Kenpachi knew there was no way the princess was ready for another round, and he so did not fuck the unconscious, but shit, the blonde was beyond gorgeous like this.

"I don't want to like you, Kenpachi."

"Then don't like me."

Urahara sighed again, tilting his head up to stare at Kenpachi and Kenpachi could swear his heart stuttered harder than when he had nearly lost his eye. Urahara leaned his head back onto Kenpachi's tattooed shoulder and placed a chaste kiss on the side of his throat.

"I'm sure I'll hate you in the morning."

Kenpachi laughed and tried not think about how that made him feel.

A/N: Aw shit, here I was working on this because I wanted to write something angry that led to sex, maybe even rape, and what the fuck do I end up with? I'm disgusted with myself. It got WAY too fluffy at the end, but I refuse to re-write it. Anyways, in other news, my first ever detailed Kenpachi/Urahara smut. My ovaries exploded writing that, I hope you know.

*One of my favorite lines from Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift. Sung Kang is a fucking god.