A/N: i love this pairing, but it proves very difficult for me to write. i hope this isn't too OOC?
Drabble collection: when in doubt, bleach it out
We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points
Title: If my Lady demands it
Summary: Urahara serves only Princesses. –Yoruichi/Urahara
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He likes to lie back against the floor and let her have her way with him. It is a rare thing, indeed; sometimes only once a year does she approach him and drag him to the nearest flat surface, there to shudder and gasp and claw and cry in his arms for hours. But when she does, he never resists her. He never approaches her first.
"Tell me, Kisuke," she says, toying with his blonde hair as she lies naked against him. "Have you had any women since you've been here?" Her eyes are teasing and golden, as if to say—you better not have, but I want to hear all the gritty details.
He feigns surprise at first. "But, Lady Yoruichi," he mocks Soi Fong good-naturedly, "how could I? I am a lowly shopkeeper."
"Ah, no backhanded compliments to yourself today? No, 'even if I am sexy and handsome, of course I wouldn't'?"
He bares his throat to her and closes his eyes, a soft smile on his chapped lips. "Of course not. I am, as always, your humble servant and friend."
Yoruichi says nothing about this, and she comes to him, several times over his century or so of exile, and she closes the door behind her, a secret message in her eyes: a cat on the prowl, a dark shadow firm and sweet under his teeth. She walks around his room stark naked in the moonlight or sunshine, whenever the mood strikes her, with all the grace of nobility her proud head signifies. He lays on the floor, smoking a pipe or sipping a drink, similarly nude, but his smile is a sheath.
"What?" she asks suddenly.
"Your hair is very long now," he murmurs, and she's not sure what he means by that.
"What?"
"It's been a long time, now, since we left Soul Society," Urahara sighs like an old man. "You ever miss it?"
"Of course not." She's looking directly at him, and her feral grin returns to her face. She falls to her knees, crawls to him, and he waits for her. When she lands herself in his lap, so brown and warm against him, she's serious again. "Over there, we couldn't do this."
He tries to pull her out of her gravity. "Do what, my Lady?" he asks, his eyes half-lidded, just the way he knows she likes them.
At his suggestion, she knows him exactly what he can do.
She's gone in the mornings. There is no dawn breaking on the lovers, asleep in each other's arms, no breakfast in bed, no shy glances or morning romps. She's gone, and she'll be gone for days, as per the usual. He never asks about it, he never demands. That is her claim to make upon him, and she does.
"But really, Kisuke, have you had any women?" she inquires again, kicking her ankles up in the air like a cat does its tail. She's under his bed sheets; he's leaning against the wall, letting his heart calm.
"I have not," he tells her, and she quirks an eyebrow.
"Really, why's that?"
The lazy smile on his face speaks volumes in itself, but she will not let it rest, and so he says: "I serve only Princesses."
Now she's really tickled, and she rolls over in his sheets, almost peeking her body out. She grins like a naughty youth. "Oh really? Pray tell, good sir, how many Princesses have you deflowered?"
He bows elaborately, as a noble would at court. "I'm afraid I don't kiss and tell, my Lady."
In a flash, she's out of his bed and kneeling before him, her eyes so bright against the dimness of the room. Yoruichi growls, and his skin shivers.
"What if your Princess demands it?"
"I should have to hand you my heart on a platter, should you demand it."
She grips his blonde hair in her hands, hovers over his lips. "I do demand it."
He lets her climb over his body and he lets her make a mess of his room—Yoruichi's hold on him is almost frightening. She's just so beautiful, and so real, and so vivid, a a dream that's come over from the other side and crawled into his bed. This is the girl he's known his entire life, this is the girl who followed him into exile—and she is a Princess.
"My Princess," he murmurs over and over, over and over, as he drops kisses over and over. "Mine."
"How many?" she pants in his arms—"Kisuke, how many?"
His smile is a slow burn. His lashes flutter over her cheeks. "Only one, only one."
And he has his way with her, now.
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fin.
A/N: sexy urahara is sexy. i appreciate reviews
