I'm incorporating a few new characters this chapter, but don't start begging for "pairings" yet, I have a plan. You'll know it when you see it. -TPP


Tipping The Scales

Chapter 3: Rip Tides


When Urahara blinked his eyes open, he was thoroughly surprised.

No, really, he was, because his ass had never screamed at him like this before, and all he could do was grunt before burying his head deeper into a pillow that smelled like Old Spice and brandy.

Mmm.

Urahara shook his head and tried to gather his wits about him. Wouldn't help to remind himself WHY his ass and lower back were in so much pain, his muscles just stiff enough to remind him of a thorough fucking that he had most definitely enjoyed and participated in. For once, his scarily smart mind had been shut off, a feeling he was pretty eager to repeat.

However, now that the 'deed' was done, how to go on from here? After all, there was no way his debts were repaid from one night of hot sex (once in the living room, then one very, very enjoyable round in the yakuza's bed after a bath that had nearly put him to sleep).

He remembered passing out after cumming the second time, although from the feel of his ass, he was sure the yakuza had kept going until he himself had reached completion.

"Bastard," Urahara mumbled, but it was practically a chuckle.

He rolled over before sitting up: the burning in his ass could be ignored as soon as he had some coffee and took some Advil. A bedside clock informed him it was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon and he shot out of bed, rummaging for his clothes and his cell phone.

He immediately connected the call, terrified, before remembering it was Thursday. Jinta was still in school, so he speed-dialed his best friend.

"Everything's fine, Kiki. My day to open the shop, remember?" Starrk answered with a long, drawn-out yawn. Apparently the store was so dead he'd fallen asleep on the register again, "Everything gravy, or should I start worrying?"

"Like you could ever work up enough energy to worry, dog breath," Urahara joked, donning his boxers tentatively, ignoring the slimy feeling of his ass, the itch of dry cum on his thighs. He'd get cleaned up in his own shower, "I'll be there in an hour or so. The delivery invoice is on my desk, underneath the stack of-"

"Yeah, I found it underneath the kitten folders. Very cute, Kiki. If I didn't already know you were a raging gay man, I would from the office décor. I think me and Jinta are gonna have 'ta man that up for you."

"Don't you dare touch my precious kawai things!" Urahara said pitifully, his voice rising and cracking at the thought of Starrk setting fire to his chibi panda bobble head collection, "Like I said, I'll be over as soon as I get cleaned up and swing by Shunsui's."

"Really, Ki, I got this. It's so slow just take the day. You own the place: take a break. I'll see you tonight for dinner."

Urahara sighed and nodded, then remembered his friend couldn't see him, "Well, if it's really that slow…"

"It's always that slow, you know that," Starrk said, a smile in his voice, "See ya."

"Yeah. Bye."

Urahara hung up. There was nothing romantic between him and Starrk, but sometimes Urahara felt like they were married or something. Starrk seemed to be the man that always made sure Urahara didn't forget things, overlook things, kept things in order. He had practically raised Jinta alongside him, earning the title of uncle. A few years ago Starrk's girlfriend of nearly five years left him, driving him to drink himself into a gutter that had ended with him and Urahara in bed.

Thankfully, the one time was enough for them to realize nothing romantic would ever work out between them: Starrk had just been in need of comfort from someone he trusted, the only person he trusted. The friendship hadn't been threatened, if anything, it strengthened it. Starrk didn't have much family, didn't keep in contact with them, and Urahara had no one but Jinta, so they were a tight-nit family and weren't willing to lose that.

So that was all water under the bridge, but Urahara couldn't help thinking where he'd be right now if Starrk hadn't stayed such a steady rock in his life, a role model for Jinta, an incredible friend and mentor.

Urahara Kisuke was a lucky man, despite his current circumstances.

Urahara wandered out into the sitting area to retrieve his jeans, sliding into them with a bit of discomfort and donning his t-shirt and throwing his hoodie over his shoulder to fix his belt when he heard a whistle from the kitchen area like a coach on a football field, a sharp sound that made Urahara nearly jump out of his skin.

"Good, Sleeping Beauty woke her pretty self up. No time for hair and makeup, princess. I have places to be."

Urahara stared at the young blue-haired punk standing with a hip cocked against one of the kitchen counters. He was wearing black pants and a plain black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. If it weren't for the intricate lotus tattoos on his forearms that mirrored the ones on Kenpachi's hands, he wouldn't have thought the boy yakuza, just somebody that could probably kick his ass on the street. He couldn't be older than twenty-three.

The boy slurped some Chinese takeout lo mein noodles into his mouth before tugging at his sloppily-done white tie and raising an eyebrow at Urahara, "What? Ya got somethin' ta say? Buchou said 'ya wouldn' gimme no trouble. Did Scar Face lie 'ta me?"

"Um…who are you, exactly? And where's Kenpachi?" Urahara said, arms now folded over his chest as he regarded the punk who was probably half his age and extremely irritating in an adorable kind of way.

"Buchou's been gone for hours, stupid. Had business downtown and left me 'ta babysit his new squeeze. Touchin', really. When I said I wanted a promotion, didn' know Scar Face would fuck around wit' me like this. Name's Grimmjow. I'd tell 'ya my last name but I can't pronounce it," he said with a smile that showed all his sharp teeth, "So you're the candy man. Baldy talks 'bout'cha, and Gin couldn't keep his mouth shut during poker last night. Nice to meet you."

"…likewise," Urahara said, approaching the young yakuza and eying the takeout containers strewn across the area. His stomach rumbled instantly.

"Eat up! Just got here 'bout twenty minutes ago. I was starvin' and buchou doesn't give us breaks on the run."

Urahara picked up the container that held pork fried rice and raised his eyebrows, "Where are we going?"

"I'm s'posed to drop you off at your place then take off. Other than that, can't tell ya. You ain't yakuza."

Urahara raised an eyebrow, "Fair enough. I'll just eat quickly then and be on my way. I don't need a babysitter."

Grimmjow smirked, "Most prostitutes don't. Surprised you don't have stilettos on, sweetie."

Urahara smirked as he chewed on his rice, meeting Grimmjow's eyes, "Left them at home. That's a special package deal."

Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed before attacking his noodles again, "Shit, Candy, you're arite in my book. Been a while since buchou's had anything with brains and some bite."

Urahara smirked at the new nickname: whether it was in reference to his shop or a hooker jab, Urahara didn't mind, "I'm in debt. I don't have any other way out. I'm a man of my word, which I know means something to you yakuza boys. I won't allow anything to happen to my son."

"A wise man," Grimmjow said with a nod as he grabbed a pair of keys off the counter next to him, "Come on, just eat in the car, Candy, and try not 'ta ruin daddy's new upholstery."


An hour and a shower later, Urahara felt refreshed and a lot less ache-y as he sat on a stool at Shunsui's. The man who owned it, Shunsui, was the definition of never-going-to-grow-up-bachelor.

"Another round, Kisuke?" the man said sliding along the bar top with a wink, his wavy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. There was a small arrangement of pink flowers in the hair band, making Urahara chuckle: the man needed a shave and a few sips of sanity.

"You do know this is a coffee shop, right, Shun?" Urahara replied, taking another sip from his giant mug. It was a new concoction Shunsui had just released a few weeks ago and it was like heaven had itself a threesome with caffeine and cinnamon.

Shunsui's face fell as he dramatically grabbed at his chest like he was having a heart attack, "You wound me, Urahara! This is not just a coffee shop: this is the coffee shop."

Urahara had to admit it was the best coffee shop in the city, although from the outside, it most definitely looked like the entrance to a nice bar. Once inside, the motif still looked like a bar, complete with pool tables and a jukebox. The 'coffee bar' even had mirrored panels behind it and plenty of bistro and espresso equipment. They had an extensive drink menu, none of which actually included alcohol (unless you knew Shunsui personally, then he tended to spike whatever you ordered with whiskey unless you explicitly told him not to). The place was always busy, always full, so Urahara was lucky to have grabbed a stool when he did or he'd be left standing. Shunsui's 'bar tenders' were extremely attractive women with chests that put mountains to shame (probably why the place made a killing in tips) but Urahara seriously didn't think he could live without the concoctions the mad genius cooked up, such as what he was sipping right now: Shunsui's Suicide Sake Latte.

"Another Suicide Sake Latte?" Shunsui sing-songed, seeming to know what Urahara was thinking even as Urahara tried to finish the one he had in his hands.

"No way, Shun: I'd actually like to be able to sleep tonight, not sometime next year, thank you very much."

Shunsui laughed before being tapped on the shoulder by his most popular bartender, a cheeky woman by the name of Rangiku who had given up hitting on Kisuke years ago. Shunsui immediately slipped into business mode as he began helping other customers and making other orders, leaving Kisuke alone to think in relative peace.

After another half hour of rejuvenation, Kisuke felt a lot better and ready to go home and clean up a bit. His apartment was small and definitely in need of a little cleaning, and cleaning had always helped Urahara think through his stress. After sweeping and mopping the tiny living room and kitchenette he vacuumed Jinta's room and made his bed, doing his best as a dad not to snoop, but he eventually gave in.

It took him less than five minutes to find Jinta's porn stash and it made Urahara giggle like a mad man until he opened the magazine with a big-busted woman only to have another magazine fall out of the middle. He bent down and picked it up, his eyes going wide as he took in the man-on-man BDSM cover.

He flipped through it, trying to imagine what his son was into, much less (DOING?) at sixteen years old.

He must have been staring at it longer than he thought because the next thing he knew he heard the door to the apartment open and close and Kisuke hurriedly tried to shove the magazines back into their hiding place (a fake bottom in his school desk underneath a school schedule notebook and some erasers, the little stinker) and cursed when his finger got slammed in the drawer, Jinta standing in the bedroom doorway, his eyes hooded in a bored manner as he took in his snooping, conniving adoptive dad.

"Aha, Jinta! Hello there! This, uh, most definitely is NOT what it looks like! You see, Yoruichi wouldn't stop meowing at this drawer and, well I just HAD to investigate~"

Jinta raised a pierced eyebrow, "Wow, call the papers: our cat must have super powers and teleported because I just fed her some fish at the shop."

Urahara, unwilling to give up on his spun tale, began looking around the room before hugging his son to his chest, "Oh my gawd, then WHO'S CAT WAS THAT? ! It could have RABIES!"

Jinta snorted at his stupid father's antics, "Cut the crap, just admit defeat. Yes, I have porn magazines: I know where your stash is too, so no judging."

"So so so so not judging," Urahara said, pointing a finger at himself, "Least likely to judge ever, you know that, Jin."

"Uh-huh, so why were you snooping?"

Urahara shrugged, "It's your sixteenth birthday tomorrow: I guess an old man just wanted to reminisce."

Jinta rolled his eyes, "So is this the part where we sit and have 'the talk'? 'Cuz honestly, dad, I think the one you gave me when I turned twelve was painful enough for the both of us."

Urahara's face fell, "You didn't like my pictures? I worked so hard on them…"

Jinta's face lit up in embarrassment before he punched Urahara on the shoulder playfully, "Those awful pictures are probably why I'm gay, old man."

Urahara smirked, ruffling Jinta's crimson hair, "Just be careful, sport. Use condoms, lube, and no threesomes on school nights, okay?"

Jinta growled in frustration before fixing his hair, "Dad, seriously, grow up!"

"Never!" Urahara crowed, throwing himself on top of Jinta's bed and trying not to wince when his ass hit the springs just a little too hard. Damn it, Kenpachi really had done a number on him last night.

Jinta tackled him in the next second and put him in a headlock: Kisuke played along, letting Jinta win. Jinta was six months or less away from becoming a black belt, but he had no idea Kisuke had taken four different martial arts in high school due to academic boredom and had mastered three of them.

It was nice to keep some secrets to himself.

Eventually they both tired out and just laid there before Jinta said, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Urahara's heart thundered, "N-no. Why?"

Jinta shrugged, "If you did, you know I wouldn't care, right? You don't have to sneak around, dad: I know why you left last night. I'm not an idiot."

Urahara stared at his son with a forced half-smile, "What are you talking about? Just went to hang with Shunsui and have a few drinks."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

Urahara burst into laughter, "Do you think I'm suicidal? His lovely little lawyer wife Nanao would disembowel me, not to mention his children."

Jinta shrugged again, "Stranger things have happened. You're my dad, and I know you don't bat for pussy, so just be happy, ok? You don't have to hide stuff from me. I'm getting too old for that."

Urahara really loved his son when he had these moments of such strong maturity. He really was beyond his years. Urahara nodded, not laughing it off: he'd give Jinta more respect than that, "Can't believe you're sixteen tomorrow. I really am an old man, and you're growing up way too fast. Who's the adult here?"

"Obviously me," he replied cheekily, getting up and heading for the kitchen. He always started dinner or, if he didn't cook everything himself, at least set stuff up for Starrk. Urahara was so lucky.

And pretty damn content. This was not a bad life.

His cell phone rang. He looked at it and did not recognize the number.

His stomach fluttered as he lifted the phone to his ear, thankful Jinta was clanging around in the kitchen with the tv blasting his favorite music station.

"Hello?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Be ready to be picked up, princess."

Urahara didn't like the flood of heat through his body at the deep, demanding tone, "That's not much time: I can't leave my son here alo-"

"He's a big boy, or you want me to leave Grimm to watch him?"

Urahara panicked at the thought: although he thought the blue-haired punk was an obnoxious riot, he didn't know him from Eve and certainly didn't want a stranger in his house, which would only make Jinta more suspicious, "No, I'll handle it."

"Ten minutes, princess."

The line went dead. Urahara texted Starrk, asking him if he was closing up the shop and on his way home when Jinta poked his head in the door, making Urahara nearly jump out of his skin again.

"We didn't have enough money for meat this week, so no meatballs for the spaghetti, k?"

Urahara blinked, then slowly nodded as Jinta went back to the kitchen, making Urahara's stomach roll around and his head hurt.

I can't even feed my son properly. I haven't even gotten him a birthday gift yet. I'm a terrible person.

Urahara's phone beeped at Starrk's incoming message: Almost home. Why?

Urahara sighed and replied: Need to leave in 10 mins.

Urahara went to his room, changing into a pair of beige cargo pants and a simple black long-sleeved shirt, annoyed when the hem got stuck on one of the silver studs in his belly button.

Another beep: You gonna tell me who this mystery guy is now?

Urahara faltered, still not sure if he should involve Starrk.

No. It wouldn't be safe. Starrk knew he was in serious debt with a loan shark, but he didn't know how he was paying. It was only a matter of time until he found out about it anyway, but Urahara just couldn't face it right now, at least not through text messaging.

I can't right now, but I will . I promise.

Starrk didn't reply.

Urahara made his way to the kitchen, flicking his bangs out of his face as he stopped by Jinta and kissed him on top of his head. Jinta was used to the constant affection, unlike his teenage friends who said that kind of stuff was for little babies.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah. I forgot I was meeting up with Isshin! He's going to chew me out for sure this time," Urahara said with a small smile as he headed for the front door.

Jinta knew Isshin was an old family friend, nothing more. Besides, Jinta knew his only son, Ichigo, was a few years older than him and they used to fight like cats and dogs, "Oh, ok. I'll save you some in the fridge."

"Starrk's almost home. Don't stay up too late, school tomorrow," Urahara decreed with a wave as he walked out the door.

He was at the bottom of the stairs of the apartment complex when Starrk appeared, hands in his pockets as he regarded his best friend and part-time boss.

Shoot shoot shoot. Urahara didn't want him to see him getting into any fancy, questionable cars.

"I'll be…well, I don't know how soon I'll be back," Urahara sputtered, hoping Starrk would just let him go and ask questions later.

Starrk nodded, his eyes looking sad, "Take care of yourself, Kiki."

The way he said it made Urahara feel like an ass hole. All his friend wanted to do was care about him, protect him. They were closer than brothers, dammit.

"Starrk –"

"Go on. I think a Bentley is waiting for you."

Urahara didn't know what to say: Starrk was, and always had been, extremely perceptive. How had he ever thought he was going to be able to hide this little loan shark arrangement?

Starrk disappeared up the stairs and Urahara headed for the silver Bentley just pulling into the complex.

Urahara climbed into the backseat, instantly confronted with a grumpy-looking Kenpachi, a cigar in his hand, his black suit impeccable, a blood red tie at his throat, his nightmare black hair in thick spikes. Urahara thought, in that moment, he couldn't look any more intimidating in the underworld.

"Close the door, princess. I don't got all day."

Urahara closed the door behind him, ignoring the leering grin of the blue-haired driver.


Urahara was surprised when instead of pulling up in front of the building in Seretei, they ended up at a mansion-like property on the outskirts of the city. The place was gated and Urahara couldn't help but wonder what kind of real weight Kenpachi tugged around in the yakuza world if he was able to afford this constant lavishness.

"How many homes do you have?" Urahara said in awe, the Bentley finally pulling around a curve, Grimmjow hopping out to open the door for his buchou.

Kenpachi didn't answer as he got out, dropping the last of his cigar onto the pavement as Grimmjow went to the other side of the car and helped Urahara out.

"Word a warnin', Candy: I'd be real, real sweet tonight," Grimmjow whispered to him before getting back in the gorgeous machine and leaving.

Kenpachi had already unlocked one of the huge front doors and walked inside without a second look back.

Urahara followed after him quickly, shutting the door behind him and thankful for the moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the backside of the house that showed off an impressive lighted-up giant pool or he'd be stumbling around in the darkness.

Kenpachi flicked a switch along the wall and some low lighting came up in the dark-furnished living room area. It was still a little too dark to tell if the walls were a rich brown or red, the fireplace empty and too clean, possibly never used.

Again, not much decoration. Barely any. Besides the lighting, the furniture, and the mantle, the room was sparse.

Kenpachi kept moving, pulling off his suit jacket and tugging at his tie as he disappeared around the corner into what must lead to the master bedroom, "You know the drill, princess. Kitchen's through the living room on the left."

Urahara stopped his gawking to watch Kenpachi's back disappear down another hallway, not sure how to feel about Kenpachi's tone. Grimmjow HAD warned him about the man's apparent bad mood, not to mention the silent tension in the car. Urahara wasn't an idiot: he read body language better than verbal language, a habit from his childhood.

"Behavior can't lie," Urahara murmured to himself, the guilt of keeping this from Jinta and Starrk beginning to settle unhelpfully in his gut.

He headed to the kitchen. It helped that he was now starving and determined to make something amazing to brighten the abysmal mood now in the house. Kisuke, again, reminded himself that this was a business arrangement, not a lover trying to comfort, but there was no way he was going to allow the night to go against his own favor.

If a happy Kenpachi kept his ass from bleeding in the morning, then a happy Kenpachi shall there be.

Urahara was actually quite blown away by the perfect kitchen: a wet dream to any proper chef, but Urahara, again, was quite lost.

"You can do this, Urahara," he pep-talked, beginning to move around the kitchen. He quickly memorized where everything was (a genius brain helped sort that out) but cooking involved a little more than memory. Considering a lot of cooks considered it a form of math or science, Urahara was amazed that he wasn't a better cook.

He would make something nice, something delicious, and he was going to do it right now, damn it all!

He hunted through the refrigerator and freezer, turned the oven on, turned the stove on, set pots to boiling, and diced tomatoes.

His brain pulled up an Italian chicken dish he had watched on the food network a few weeks ago with Jinta: his brain played the episode silently back to him in his head, Urahara's mouth supplying some whistling. Music always kept him calm and centered.

He almost burned the sauce, a combination of lemon, cooking wine, tomato and garlic. He cooked the chicken carefully, fully concentrating as the mushrooms were added. He loved mushrooms, and thought it would go nicely with the spicy tang of the sauce. Some cheese, some penne noodles, and voila.

The plates and silverware looked expensive, but they were there for a reason. Urahara took asparagus out of the microwave (he was sure it was some kind of travesty to chefs out there if they knew he'd put fresh market asparagus in a microwave with butter and salt, but at this point, he didn't know when the yakuza would walk in).

The meal complete, his stomach rumbling, he turned to the sink to soak the pan that had held the sauce when he felt a presence behind him.

Large hands on his hips, a breath along the top of his head.

"Sure looks like you know how to cook, princess."

Urahara swallowed thickly, turning slowly to face the yakuza, "It'll probably taste horrible. I've never cooked something like this. I –"

Kenpachi wordlessly moved to the side to rummage in the refrigerator, pulling out a six pack of bottled beer and heading for the table. Urahara didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that there was empty whiskey glasses in the living room. How long had the yakuza been done with his shower and waiting for the food?

Urahara put the food down in front of Kenpachi and took a seat at the other end of the table with his own plate, his mouth salivating.

They ignored each other as they dug into the food, Kenpachi sliding a beer to Urahara when he'd finished three himself.

Urahara didn't think it was very classy to eat Italian with a beer (isn't that what wine was for in the restaurants?) but oh well, he needed something with this chicken.

It wasn't bad, but the noodles tasted a little rubbery. At least the sauce was finger-licking good.

Kenpachi was staring at him.

"What?" Urahara finally asked.

"Keep slurping on your fingers like that and I'll end up breaking you on this table," he warned, a little more than half-serious.

Urahara dropped his hand, unaware he had been licking his fingers like that. He just really liked the sauce! Was that a crime?

Kenpachi finished his beer, slamming it down before standing up and pulling off his shirt. Urahara just realized he was wearing black swim trunks, but his eyes were having a hard time moving away from those perfect hip lines and abs.

"Jacuzzi. Now."

Urahara stood up, knowing Kenpachi was still not in a good mood. There went the theory that a good meal and a full belly would get the man to relax.

Maybe that's what the Jacuzzi was for. Something had happened today because the man's aura was darker than it had been yesterday, and Urahara was not willing to risk the man's unknown wrath.

Urahara followed Kenpachi out onto the pool deck, passing the pool to a grove surrounded by manicured bushes that had a large Jacuzzi planted in the stonework, the jets and lights on. Urahara had been studying the man's broad back the entire way, amazed at the amount of intricate ink work on the man's back. That was hours and hours of old school yakuza 'blade' tattoo work to create the unique deep reds, blues, greens, and blacks. A ferocious, ascending dragon, a dragon of rank and honor. More knife marks, even what Urahara knew to be stab wounds, were on his side.

Fuck, Urahara thought. Who in their right mind would want to piss this man off? Thankfully, or not so thankfully, they looked old.

Urahara started wondering what this man's history was, especially as a child.

Kenpachi slipped into the hot water without another word, his half-finished whiskey in his hand. Urahara hadn't even seen him pour it. Was he that out of it because he couldn't for the life of him stop staring at the man's body?

"Get in."

Urahara removed his shirt and pants, thankful he'd worn dark boxers as he got in the Jacuzzi facing Kenpachi, Kenpachi's eyes on his mid drift. The bench was high enough (or the water low enough) that the tops of their chests were still exposed.

"Didn't notice your jewelry last night," Kenpachi commented, eyes zeroed in on Kisuke's silver nipple stud.

Urahara felt his face and neck flush, but what was he kidding? He had a mission: he had to put Kenpachi in a good mood.

If there was anything about this man he thought he knew, Kisuke knew teasing wasn't going to be something he'd appreciate too much.

So Urahara dunked under the water before standing back up, running his hands through his now wet locks before approaching the yakuza and straddling his hips.

Kenpachi's face was a little surprised, a little turned on. Urahara could work with that.

"I like jewelry," Urahara said, placing one of Kenpachi's hands on his lower abdomen and over his belly button so he could feel the studs at the same time Kisuke slipped his tongue out to show off the silver ball on his tongue.

That most definitely had not been in his mouth last night, or Kenpachi would have remembered it from the blowjob. Fuck, surprises surprises.

Urahara shuddered as Kenpachi shifted his weight, forcing Urahara's ass more firmly against Kenpachi's growing erection.

"What's your game?" Kenpachi mumbled, tweaking Urahara's nipple stud. Urahara jerked, already getting turned on. He'd never done anything in a hot tub before. He didn't want to think about the horror stories he'd heard about sex in a hot tub*, not right now, not when this could result in a happy ending for both of them.

Urahara decided to be honest, "You're in a bad mood. I don't know why and I don't want to know why, but…I just…."

"…Wanna play nice?" Kenpachi finished for him, his hands moving to Urahara's hips as he cantered his hips, making Kisuke whine slightly, his fingers digging into Kenpachi's shoulders, "You gonna take away my foul mood, princess?"

"Yes," Urahara murmured, hoping he didn't sound like a wanton slut already, his fingers dragging down Kenpachi's insane chest and massaging over his abs that jumped at his attention, "besides, if you're in a good mood, you'll give me tomorrow off to spend with my son for his birthday."

Kenpachi barked a laugh, one of his hands settling over Urahara's now straining erection, "The wheels in that brain never stop turning, do they? You surprise me."

Urahara decided to fight fire with fire: he could seduce this man. He would PROVE that he could. His eyes half-lidded, he made sure his feet were placed solidly against the smooth curved stone wall behind Kenpachi, his hands bracing Kenpachi's shoulders as he began to twist and gyrate his hips. He'd taken a few pole-dancing classes for shits and giggles with his old (and equally gay) college buddy Shinji and, hell, wasn't now just the perfect time to show what he could do?

Helped they were in hot water, too, but he was sure these skills could come in handy on dry land, when Kenpachi needed more buttering up.

Kenpachi's eyes were nearly black at the sudden eye candy before him, including the feeling of the hot water in combination with Kisuke's ass rubbing rhythmically against him, his hips moving in a way that had Kenpachi wondering if the candy man had a past that included being a stripper.

Bonus for him.

Urahara yelped when Kenpachi's hands went to Urahara's ass and lifted him at the same time as he stood up, Urahara having no choice but to wrap his legs around Kenpachi's waist as Kenpachi waded through the jet water to the other side, putting Urahara down on the stone top of the Jacuzzi, his own body still in the water.

"Perfect height," Kenpachi grinned, staring down at all that blonde splayed out perfection. Urahara was breathing unevenly now, his skin flushed from the hot water, his strong legs flexed outward to accommodate Kenpachi's hips. Kenpachi ripped the boxers right off Urahara, making him cry out as the material tore and was lost to the Jacuzzi.

"Kenpachi!"

"Forget 'em. You don't need 'em right now," he said, dropping his own swim trunks, his cock ready for that perfect hole. He slicked his fingers and probed at Urahara's ass, listening to his breath hitch as he invaded the pink pucker.

He grinned, thankful for the idea of coming into the Jacuzzi, the hot water having relaxed the muscles quite a bit, the inside wet and slippery already. He started scissoring almost immediately, making Urahara cry out and buck, his erection coming swiftly back to life.

Kenpachi grabbed at it with his free hand, tugging and making Urahara's head lift up only to slam back down on the pavement.

"Stupid, don't knock yourself out," Kenpachi ordered, his hands leaving their respective pleasure spots as he leaned over Kisuke's body and pulled his head up, staring into the dazed eyes.

Kisuke's heart thumped again as Kenpachi seemed to be…what? Concerned for him?

"I'm okay," Urahara mumbled, wanting to get back to feeling good. The heat from the Jacuzzi was affecting his brain as well as the pleasure, "I want to, Kenpachi."

Kenpachi flinched at the sincerity in the candy man's voice. It was rare to hear, and it didn't sound like past partners who were in it for money or a good fuck.

Kisuke got tired of waiting, leaning up into Kenpachi and kissing him, arching his spine and wrapping his legs securely around the yakuza's waist, throwing Kenpachi off guard.

But when that pierced tongue flicked over his lips, he was done.

He attacked Urahara's mouth with a hunger he hadn't felt since he was a teenager, his hips instinctually pushing forward into the heat being offered to him, and that mouth…Jesus the blonde could kiss.

Thoroughly distracted, Kisuke did little more than moan when Kenpachi slipped into Urahara, swiveling his hips to get all the way in and comfortable, barely waiting before he started slamming.

The smooth stone underneath him did little to stop the discomfort, but Urahara grit his teeth and tried to enjoy what was being done to his body as Kenpachi's tongue decided to do a number on his chest, paying particular attention to his nipple studs.

Urahara pulled at Kenpachi's now product-free hair and yanked hard, making the yakuza growl, "Hnn, nah, my nipples-"

"Only masochists get these," Kenpachi said, licking over the swollen, sensitive nub, "Went straight to yer cock, didn't it?"

Urahara just moaned again as Kenpachi started a brutal pace, both hands on Urahara's tattooed hips.

Urahara could barely keep his eyes open: fuck, it felt so good. Kenpachi rubbed and nicked at that impossible itch inside him, that deep itch that was fucking torture and the burn made him feel like he was going to go insane.

Kenpachi's fingers started massaging into Urahara's hips, admiring the ink work there. On his left hip was an arrangement of Sakura blossoms, reminding Kenpachi of a spring festival. The flowers certainly suited his little blonde princess. His right hip, however, was a black and grey portrait of a young woman with her eyes closed with a soft smile holding a baby, the woman's wings tucked perfectly to the edge of Kisuke's hip. Tattoo work on hips, especially something this detailed, had to have been extremely painful. The portraiture was nearly extended around and onto his back.

Kenpachi felt a pang of jealousy: was this possibly a dead wife and his baby son? This Jinta?

Kenpachi grunted before picking up the pace, making Urahara scream. Kenpachi was suddenly very, very aware of how hard Urahara's fingers were digging into his forearms.

"Hah-nah! Kenpachiiiiii!"

And that was all the warning Kenpachi got before Urahara came, arching his back and moaning, his white cream painting his wet chest and making Kenpachi groan.

It just wasn't fair how hot this man was. It just was not.

"You're mine," Kenpachi growled, biting into the side of Urahara's neck in a possessive show of dominance. He didn't care if this woman was alive or not, Kisuke was his, and that was that. Anything else was asking for trouble.

A couple more strokes and Kenpachi was seeing white light as well, groaning as he tried to keep himself inside the tight heat for as long as possible.

Urahara's head was lolling side to side, his arms falling from Kenpachi's now red and sore shoulders, his grey eyes totally glazed over in satiated bliss.

He needed to get this man in his bed now before he crashed out here, and no way was Kenpachi sleeping outside, no matter how much he'd paid for the landscaping.

"Come on, princess."

"Mm, I already did," he said groggily, closing his eyes and sighing, his legs starting to slip from Kenpachi's waste.

Well fuck.

Kenpachi picked the blonde up from the stone after he pulled his swimsuit back up (and got out of the Jacuzzi, that would have been too hard to maneuver) and got Kisuke to walk the rest of the way once he opened the back sliding door. Kisuke collapsed onto the bed on his belly, exposing a wet back and ass still dripping cum.

Kenpachi started stroking himself immediately, kicking out of his wet swimsuit and kneeling up over the prone body of his…

His…

Aw fuck.

"Get on your knees."

"Hn-uh?"

"Just get your ass up. Showing it to me like this. Fuck, this perfect ass…"

Urahara chuckled, too orgasm-happy to do anything else but be flattered and push his knees into the bed and lift his ass in the air, "Will this do? I can barely feel my arms."

Kenpachi chuckled and moved up behind his…his…

"Good enough, lover."

Urahara moaned as Kenpachi entered him again, moving slowly, slowly, slowly…

"Oh…my…ga-awwwwwwwwd…" Kisuke half-sobbed, half-wailed. Kenpachi was on his knees behind him, his hands pushing down on Kisuke's back, one on his lower back, one on his hip. The angle, the position, whatever this was…

"S-s-ooo…oh god, t-too deep, Kenpachi!"

"Mmhm."

Kisuke just continued to make nonsensical noises, the building speed on his prostate making his eyes roll back in his head, his body beginning to instinctively react, his muscles gripping Kenpachi harshly, making him hiss.

"Ah yeah, I didn't think you could get any tighter, princess."

The slap to his ass made Kisuke almost purr. Where the HELL had that come from?

Kenpachi's breath at his ear made him shiver hard, "Like I said, baby, masochist."

It was all too much. Sensation overload. The voice and lick to his ear made Urahara shudder, pushing his hips back and forth to stimulate his prostate and his cock, driving Kenpachi wild. Urahara just took it as he was pounded harder, his arms completely useless as his face buried into the sheets.

"I-I'm not a ma-ahhhhhhhhhh!-so-chist."

"Beg. 'Ta. Differ. Lover," Kenpachi said, each word punctuated with a deep, strong thrust that had Kisuke coming again.

Oh god, oh god it had hurt. He'd never had two orgasms so close together before, never.

"Fuck, Kenpachi, no more!"

"Then help me out, say what I wanna hear before you pass out and I take you all night."

Kenpachi wouldn't admit that his bad mood was completely gone, totally forgotten at this moment. Urahara was the best distraction he'd ever, ever had. The huge problem still not solved of leaked account information to a man simply known as Aizen, a big shot from the north, could wait until morning.

Urahara was exhausted, his body too stunned to even know what was coming out of his mouth anymore, "Ah, hn, c-come inside me, Kenpachi. I want your cum. I want to swallow it up-"

Kenpachi jerked, totally caught off guard. Where the hell had that come from? He came so hard he yelled out, a furious growl that had his hips pistoning far after his dick had been sated.

Holy fucking hell, this shopkeeper was fucking perfect.

He finally pulled out, watching the cum leak out slowly again, one of his fingers circling the puckering, swollen entrance, making Urahara shiver and shake.

"Pervert," he sighed.

"Masochist."

"Sadist."

"Cock slut."

Urahara just sighed heavily, too blissed out to keep fighting. He was so tired.

But Kenpachi had other ideas.

When Urahara felt a slick, hot tongue lapping at his hole, his whole body jolted and he twisted his fists into the sheets, screaming at the tops of his lungs.

"That good, huh?"

"Aw, fuck you," Urahara gusted out, his heart thundering a million miles a millisecond, "Oh god, don't do tha-nnnnnnah-stop!"

Kenpachi just chuckled and slapped both ass cheeks, satisfied he'd made Urahara so weak he couldn't even open his eyes anymore.

By the time Kenpachi got back from the shower, Urahara was snoring softly, making Kenpachi shake his head slightly.

Despite himself, he climbed into the large bed, making sure a sheet was over Urahara. Didn't want the kid getting sick in the cold room.

Kenpachi's body felt a slag, but his mind was still very awake. Looked like tonight he'd have to fight for sleep.