He took a step to bridge the distance between them, hooking long fingers in the belt loops of the younger man's jeans, pulling their bodies close together as his warm breath ghosted along the pink tinged cheeks of the redhead. Noses rubbed together and lips brushed lightly, gently teasing the delicate skin.

Strong hands gripped firmly at Ichigo's slim waist and spun him, so that he suddenly felt his back pressed tight against a muscular chest. Equally strong arms looped round his waist, gripping him in a snug but comfortable embrace. Aizen tilted the head of the less experienced man to allow himself better access to press lips against the sensitive skin of the teenager's neck. He felt Ichigo's breath catch in his throat as the boy gasped in response to the warm breath and sharp teeth nipping at his skin, a sensation that seemed to set his veins alight.

A group of giggling students ran past outside, engaged in some light-hearted sport. The piercing sounds of their carefree laughter cut effortlessly through the blinds which covered the partially open window of the classroom. Ichigo's eyes flew open as he was snapped back to his senses.

"Nngh." A gasp caught again in his throat as he swallowed a moan. "Not here." He tried to shake his head from side to side as his breath came in shorter gasps. "Someone could see." His voice expelled in an almost breathless whisper now.

"Kurosaki…" Aizen's silken voice whispered low and heady in his ear as he nuzzled at the redhead's neck. "In this place I am your sensei, remember?" He felt the boy shudder in arousal and anticipation as his strong fingers splayed across his chest. He nipped gently at the redhead's ear as he began to deftly unbutton Ichigo's light shirt, "So, be a good boy and obey me, or else I'll have to punish you..." He smiled against the boy's skin as he both heard and felt him moan anxiously. "Though I must admit I do enjoy that." One hand snuck inside Ichigo's unbuttoned shirt and brushed lightly over a raised nipple. Aizen smiled again as he felt the body in his arms stiffen and let his free hand creep slowly, teasingly towards the boy's crotch.

"Aah..!" Ichigo tried and failed to muffle his voice, suddenly acutely aware of the breeze creeping through the window covered only by the fabric blinds moving slightly in the soft autumn breeze. He caught Aizen's creeping hand with one of his own and squeezed it tightly as he felt soft lips brush against his neck. Ichigo's free hand reached up to tangle and tug in the silky brown locks of his teacher. Aizen made a soft growling noise as Ichigo pulled gently on his hair and he instinctively ground his hips against Ichigo's firm backside. The fingers creeping inside the redhead's shirt teased a firm bud and twisted it just hard enough to set off a great number of hot sensations inside of the teenager, sparks darting across Ichigo's skin and setting him alight from the inside.

Their movement was hot and heavy, in time like they were both partners in a frantic dance. And the heat building in their stomachs was about to take over, like an animal instinct. The fire was consuming both of them as the sensations built, ready to flow over and burst like a dam with too much pressure behind it.

Suddenly a harsh clang of noise crashed into them, breaking the spell that had caught them within its fiery rhythm. It was the bell signalling 1.30pm, the end of the hour and a half designated lunch break for both students and staff. Aizen cursed quietly into Ichigo's ear even as his lips still pressed against the skin there, neither of them had realised just how time had flown. When the bell sounded Ichigo had made as to leap instinctively from the arms of his tutor, but Aizen had held him there, and he continued to do so as they both drew deep, calming breaths and tried to slow the beating of their hearts.

"Fuck…" Ichigo gasped as he caught his breath, throwing his head back against the strong shoulders of the older man. Aizen smiled at the thin layer of sweat which dampened the vibrant strands of Ichigo's hair. He withdrew his wandering hand from inside the boy's shirt as he gazed down at the dazzling caramel eyes only slightly fogged by lust which stared up at him.

"I think you should see me after class." Aizen murmured as he leant in to press lips against those of his student, and he felt Ichigo smirk against his own. For a second everything stopped. The frenzied passion of only moments before dissipated in that gentle kiss and for once, everything seemed peaceful…

Until the voices and noises of passing students in the corridor snapped both men back to their senses and they parted, Ichigo frantically doing up the buttons of his shirt as he rushed to his desk, dumping his bag on his lap in an attempt to disguise his state of arousal in front of the classmates that would at any second walk through the door and catch him flushed and fidgeting in his seat.

Ichigo sucked in a deep lungful of air as he let the pleasant breeze roll over him. It was the breath of a season caught somewhere between summer and autumn. The air was still warm but without the harsh edge of the summer heat that was somehow both enjoyable and sickening as it made everyone's motions a little heavier. The leaves would soon start to change to bear a resemblance to the colours of his hair and fall to accompany his footsteps with a satisfying crunching sound. Ichigo loved autumn.

It was a Friday afternoon, which meant that his prescribed classes finished early. However Friday had quickly become his favourite day of the week for another reason. That reason, the one with the chestnut brown hair and matching eyes, was not so lucky as to have an early finish on the Friday as some of his students did, and so Ichigo had grown accustomed to hanging around after class to wait until those of his tutor finished.

He passed these hours in different ways each week, today he had snuck off to the sports changing rooms of the college and taken a brief but well needed cold shower. After he had been so rudely interrupted in his flagrante with Aizen he had passed the two hour long lecture in a state which he felt was best described as 'hot and bothered', and this state of his was not merely due to the warmth of the day. Of course Aizen had been well aware of this, and had been milking it for all that he was worth, the sadist. Ichigo thought that if he'd had to sit there any longer, trying to concentrate on his work whilst his tutor sat at his desk brushing back his silky hair, shooting heavy lidded glances at Ichigo and (this was worst of all) biting at his lower lip when he knew that the redhead was watching… Well he thought that he might just have exploded.

It took him all of five minutes to shrug off Renji and the rest of his friends who seemed dead set on getting Ichigo to come along with them on one of their mad adventure ideas. He tried his best guilt trip on Ichigo, and he would perhaps have caved if he did not have such enticing unfinished business with his tutor.

Now he was on the roof, enjoying the way the gentle breeze was drying the dampened strands of his hair and gently caressing his inflamed skin. He leant casually on the safety railing, gazing out over the town as he waited for the clock to tick away the minutes until he could go meet with his lover.

Lover. Even now it seemed like a strange word to Ichigo. But he didn't know how else to describe him. Calling Aizen his boyfriend seemed laughable for a number of reasons, not the least of these being the fact that the brunette was considerably older than him. That was such a flowery word anyway; it really didn't fit to the dynamics of their relationship. Boyfriend suggested out in the open, lovey dovey things – like walking along the street holding hands or buying each other flowers – things that just didn't sit well with Ichigo's image of Aizen.

It had been nearly a month since Aizen had paid him that fateful visit in his bedroom, and ever since that day everything had turned on its head. Sure, the tutor-student dynamic hadn't changed much, in class they seemed to pass nothing but the usual animosity between each other, and Aizen would still kick his ass over poor work. But outside of classes Ichigo's world had been turned upside down.

It wasn't just meaningful glances and touches stolen in-between classes, not that Ichigo had any less appreciation for these things, but he was pretty sure that he'd spent more time at Aizen's flat than he had in his own house over the past few weeks. They'd even been on a few outings together; he supposed he should call them dates even. Though never in Karakura itself – too dangerous. But whether they were going to the cinema or sitting eating takeaway pizza in his living room whilst arguing over Kafka, Ichigo really thought that it would be very difficult to feel happier than he did when he was by Aizen's side. Ichigo scowled to himself as he leant on the rickety barrier put in place to stop people from walking right off the edge of the roof - now he really was starting to sound like a soppy love-struck teenager.

'But you know what?' A voice in his head piped up as a secret smile crept in around the frown. 'I couldn't care less about how soppy it sounds.'

And he was almost surprised to realise that he meant it.

"Ichigo..?" a familiar voice interrupted his musings, and he spun round with a face tinged pink from secret embarrassment at being caught thinking his secret thoughts.

"Urahara!" he scowled half-heartedly at the science teacher who had just appeared from nowhere as he had a bad habit of doing, standing on the roof as the gentle breeze ruffled his messy blonde strands. Just how long had he been standing there, watching Ichigo smile his secret smile to himself? "Don't sneak up on me like that, you creep." He made a face at his adopted uncle and gained a shining smile in return.

"Better be careful the wind doesn't change Ichigo," he teased, "We wouldn't want your pretty face to get stuck like that now would we?" He sidled up to the redhead and leant casually on the railings beside him.

"What do you want?" Ichigo asked, suddenly suspicious. Nothing much got past Urahara, he seemed to know everything about everyone and Ichigo prayed to God that his vast knowledge did not include that of his and Aizen's relationship.

"Nothing much, just felt like getting some air." The science teacher mused as he gazed out over the rooftops of the city. "It's a beautiful view up here."

"Yeah, I suppose." Ichigo shrugged. For a moment neither of them spoke and the only sounds were those floating up from the traffic far below. Urahara seemed in no rush to converse as he stood with his eyes shut, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face. When he finally did speak, Ichigo had nearly slipped back into thoughts of soft hair and strong arms and so the colour crept back into his face once again when Urahara turned to him and asked,

"What's been going on with you Ichigo?"

"What do you mean?" Ichigo's voice barely quivered as he retorted, however he couldn't quite bring himself to look directly into Urahara's eyes.

"Your Dad says you've scarcely been home ever since you got into that big fight last month… Are you in some sort of trouble?" The soft wind ruffled his blonde fringe and Ichigo couldn't help but notice how tired and drawn his face looked. When had Urahara gotten old? Like his Dad he'd always seemed to be one of those solid, sturdy guys that always had been and always would be, but recently he'd noticed the faint lines of age charting a course across their faces, worry lines Karin called them. He suddenly felt a stab of guilt for drawing more lines upon the pale man's face.

"It's nothing okay?" He shrugged it off, but knew that that wouldn't change the expression on the older man's face. "Nothing bad anyway." He added, as a small and genuine smile slipped across his face.

Urahara's eyes narrowed for a moment as he studied the boy that he had known ever since he was a baby with a shock of orange hair. There was something different about him now, but he never doubted that it wasn't something bad. Ichigo had never been a depressed or openly moody kind of kid but there had always been an edge to him; Urahara always thought that he had this deep vein of sorrow running beneath his skin through which pain had started flowing the day his mother died. He was friendly but didn't go out of his way to be sociable; he was smart but never tried to show off; he was strong and he would fight but only when he believed it was right... And he was always so brooding, so full of angst; he carried his mother's death and the responsibility for his sisters like a heavy weight upon his chest. But now he seemed lighter, like that weight had been lifted somewhat. His tanned skin and his hair seemed to glow brighter in the light from the sun that floated lazily by high above them in the sky, as though something was lighting him up from the inside.

And that was when he noticed the bruises. But instead of causing anger to bubble up in his stomach, as was his usual reaction to seeing Ichigo's battle wounds, quite a different emotion was evoked. His mouth remembered its usual smile and his eyes glittered as they regarded the marks peering over the neck of Ichigo's shirt collar.

"Well… I thought that perhaps you'd been off getting in fights again but from the looks of these bruises…" he jabbed at Ichigo's neck with one long finger, "I'd say you've been engaging in a different type of activity." Ichigo thought for a moment that Urahara's grin would split his face as he turned bright red and clapped a hand over the marks. He silently cursed and swore revenge upon his tutor for this humiliation. The blonde laughed loudly, throwing his head back to the open sky as he chortled, Ichigo's blush rising and spreading across his cheeks.

"S-Shut up!" He stammered, more out of embarrassment than anger as he gave the giggling man a soft punch on the shoulder. Once Urahara had calmed his laughter and the flush began to drain from Ichigo's face, the blonde spoke again, and this time the worry lines on his face seemed less pronounced, his features softer and more relaxed in the glow of the sunlight.

"Thank goodness…" he sighed as the tension visibly lifted from his shoulders. "I feel better knowing exactly what kind of trouble you're in."

"What makes you think it's trouble?" Ichigo raised a slightly confused eyebrow at his father's closest friend.

"Take it from me Ichi, girls are always trouble." The blonde winked and Ichigo couldn't help but imagine the look on his face if he knew that not only was Ichigo dating a man, that that man happened to be Sosuke Aizen.

"Not all girls are like your wife." Ichigo teased as he pulled a cat hair from Urahara's shoulder. Yoruichi was a firecracker of a woman, as eccentric and unpredictable and passionate as anyone he had ever met (except perhaps her husband). She collected cats of all things, and it seemed that her collection had grown every time Ichigo visited their house.

"You've got that right." A different kind of smile graced the blonde's face at that thought and Ichigo couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Yeah well, like I said, it's nothing bad." He hoped Urahara would drop the subject, because if there was one thing he was good at (though he somehow seemed to be good at everything) it was reading people. And for the amount of time that they had known each other Ichigo was practically an open book to him.

"Well that's good, that's great actually." He beamed with such genuine warmth that Ichigo immediately felt guilty at keeping the full truth from him.

"Thanks." But the secret was not his to tell, he would not be the one to suffer the consequences if their relationship was discovered and he would make sure that Aizen didn't have to go through that.

"As long as you're happy…" He paused. "Are you Ichigo? Are you happy?" Urahara was all seriousness again, leaning on the barrier as he pierced Ichigo with his grey gaze.

"Yeah…" Ichigo was almost surprised at the admission. "You know, I am. I really am." He smiled softly and Urahara responded in kind, thinking that perhaps the redhead's weight had not been lifted but rather he had found someone to help him carry it. Birds circled high above them, calling out to each other across the vastness of the sky as they chatted. Urahara was immediately frustrated at the lack of information imparted to him about the nature of who he supposed to be Ichigo's girlfriend, but it was pleasant nonetheless. The afternoon began to wear in, the minutes ticking away until the end of the college day. As the final bell chimed the two men walked back down together, Ichigo humouring the mad scientist for a little while longer until he made his excuses and left, trying not to let his back communicate too much information to Urahara, and making sure his footsteps didn't sound too fast as he headed in the direction of the English department.

Approaching Aizen's classroom he did a quick sweep of the corridor and a quick glance backward over his shoulder just in case his adopted uncle had decided to follow him to satisfy his ever present curiosity. The coast seemed clear, of course since it was now after hours the majority of the students had left, those staying behind would be either studying in the library or out engaging in various exhausting sporting activities beneath the glare of the sun. But as he drew to a halt behind the door, he swore he could sense somebody else in the classroom. His perceptiveness often seemed a little freaky to others, he supposed it was all tied in with his ability to see ghosts and whatnot. When he concentrated really hard he could often tune in completely with his surroundings and feel out the presence of others, be they ghosts or humans. And right now he felt something strange brushing at his senses, something from inside the classroom where Aizen should be finishing up his notes and work for the day.

Taking care not to be seen from inside the room, Ichigo approached the door which had been left slightly ajar from the last departing student and peered through the small gap. Luckily his viewpoint allowed him a clear sight of the front of the classroom and his teacher's desk.

What he saw almost took his breath away.

Aizen was sat at his desk, straight backed as always; taking down some important notes with what Ichigo knew would be fine notation as usual. Rays of sunlight threw themselves through the blinds and highlighted sections of his hair, falling across his slender fingers as they wrote. His silver framed glasses glinted in the light as they framed sharp eyes with soft irises. But breath-taking though the sight of him was, it was not what had caused Ichigo a shock.

Leaning over the desk as though she was absorbed in whatever it was he was writing down was a little girl. Or to be more specific, a little ghost girl.

Barely older than nine or ten, she was dressed in what looked like an expensive but traditional Japanese kimono, painted in bright shades of red and rich gold. Her hair (which was an odd shade of brown, almost purple looking in the bright sunlight) was tied at either side of her neck in two stubby little pigtails, and her bangs fell down to frame her round face and big brown eyes, which Ichigo now realised were not looking at Aizen's papers, but at the tutor himself.

Ichigo was perplexed. Was Aizen being haunted? He obviously couldn't see her as he did not react to her presence at all, and Ichigo was sure that he had never seen this particular ghost around before, certainly not around Aizen. There was something else strange about her too, though it took Ichigo a moment to realise what it was. She was fading. Most ghosts that Ichigo saw took the form of normal human beings, sometimes with injuries or marks that suggested the reason for their demise, and sometimes without even having formed proper legs, instead choosing to float along like a puff of smoke. But they always looked quite solid, this little girl did not. Her body was practically translucent, as though her spirit was barely clinging to existence. As he peered through the crack in the doorway at the two of them, he was suddenly overcome with a great sadness. This poor little girl was fading out of existence, and for some reason she was gazing at Aizen as though he was the most important person in the world.

And he couldn't even see her.

For a moment all Ichigo wanted to do was step through the doorway and tell her it was going to be alright. But he couldn't. Aside from Urahara (who was practically a member of the family anyway) he had never told anybody except his father and sisters about the ghosts, and he certainly could not tell Aizen. Not so soon into their relationship. He was a rational man, and Ichigo was fairly certain he did not even believe in such things as life after death, never mind people that can communicate with ghosts. And even if by some miracle he did believe him, what then? He was tired of being the freaky kid in class.

But all that being said, she looked so sad, and no matter how tough he acted Ichigo could never turn his back on a child in need, especially not little girls who always reminded him of his little sisters. Perhaps if he could get her away from Aizen so that he could talk to her for even a second…

Then she looked up and saw him. And there was no denying the fact that he was staring right at her. Her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before she realised that the scary looking man in the doorway was indeed looking right at her. Ichigo didn't even have time to reach or call out to her before she fled, disappearing from the classroom in a puff of fading smoke.

Aizen didn't even look up as Ichigo half stumbled into the classroom, quickly catching his footing and his breath so that his tutor didn't notice anything strange.

"Ready to go?" He murmured without missing a beat, not even glancing up from his papers for a second.

"Mmmhmm." Ichigo nodded. He adjusted his messenger bag and tried to act nonchalant as he shifted from foot to foot, waiting restlessly for his tutor to finish up, still tossing around in his mind the question of what he should do about that sad looking little ghost girl. Aizen looked up at the sound of his impatience and couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling upwards a little. His young lover was leaning back on a desk as he stared distractedly out of the window, white teeth chewing on his bottom lip the same way he did when he was trying to work out the answer to a particularly tricky question in class.

"Come here." He commanded, grabbing Ichigo's distracted attention. He obeyed and as he approached the desk Aizen caught hold of the base of his shirt with slender fingers, pulling him closer down towards him to capture his mouth in a demanding kiss. Ichigo sighed softly as he leant his hands on the armrests of his chair, tempted to move to straddle the brunette but hoping to move their earlier altercation to somewhere rather more private before they picked up where they left off.

The kiss was slow and hot and when they broke apart Ichigo was left momentarily speechless, all thoughts of the little girl gone from his mind as Aizen's arm curled round his waist.

"Let's go." His teacher murmured, Ichigo nodded vacantly in reply.

"Yep."

As Aizen stood to start packing his unfinished notes away into his teaching bag his gaze flicked over the redhead fiddling with the buckles on his own bag and smiled. It was obvious that there was something on the young man's mind but he could also tell that he was reluctant to share it with him. Perhaps in time. Right now he would take what he could get, without putting any pressure on him for more, because this was a give and take situation and Aizen was not ready to let anyone into the dark recesses of his mind and his past, not even Ichigo. Perhaps in time. But for now he would take his hand and watch the blush that spread across his face when he pulled him in for a kiss in a secluded hallway. And he would take him home and they would lose themselves in each other.

He used to hope that he did not become so hopelessly lost in all that light that he wouldn't be able to find his way back. But now he did not fear it, in fact he wasn't quite sure if he ever wanted to return, content to remain lost in there as long as he was not alone. And as Ichigo squeezed his hand gently he had the strangest, most unfamiliar feeling that he wouldn't have to worry about that last part.