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The Myth of Consensual Sex
Shinji has an old grandfather clock in his office, a true marvel of Human ingenuity, purchased for a steep price by Soul Society’s most reputable seller. It’s tall and beautifully carved by hand, the uniqueness of each design shining through every curve. It has a rich mahogany color, with red and gold streaks. Its varnish gives the wood mirror-like clarity and shine. Gin sits in front of it, eyes fixed on the golden pendulum as it swings back and forth. Tik, tok, tik, tok. On and on it goes, its steady tune filling the quiet room. Tik, tok, tik, tok. The song melts into the atmosphere, like a stream hidden well within the woods.
“He’s been in there fer quite some time…”
The clock was never properly tuned. Although it works, it doesn’t tell the time. It merely counts it. Gin thinks it suits his Captain, his relationship with time has always been fluid, loose, up for interpretation. Ask him and he’ll tell you that he’s never late or early. He’s always on time. His time.
Finally, his room’s door swings open and Shinji’s presence fills the entire floor. His step is light, his perfume feels stronger and he hums as he walks. Aizen sighs disapprovingly even before his Captain appears.
“Ah, beloved Lieutenant and Third Seat! Hard at work, I see.”
Shinji stands in the doorway, as if to give the drab peasants a second to fully admire him. He’s dressed to the nines, to the twelves, even. He’s out of his Captain’s clothing he so loathes and into his new - newest - outfit, ordered and tailored by the finest dressmaker in the Soul Society for his pickiest customer. His haori is made out of golden silk, embroidered with intricate floral designs and exotic birds, glimmering under the light of dusk and flowing luxuriously with every gust of summer wind. His kimono is ivory, complimenting both the wearer’s fair complexion and the outfit’s color scheme. His hakama is rich and pleated, gold like his haori, bearing artful stitching with possibly actual gold thread. His hair is combed perfectly - as always - cascading down his back like a waterfall of silk. Of course, the sheer luxury of this outfit, scandalous enough to make his colleagues whisper venomously, isn’t provocative enough for Captain Hirako. His beautiful long locks are combed back by a headpiece, looking awfully familiar to the Kuchikis' treasured kenseikan. A blasphemy, truly, but who will reprimand him for it?
“And where might you be going, sir?” Aizen inquires, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.
“Out,” is the simple answer Shinji gives him.
“With?”
Shinji rolls his eyes. He adjusts his sleeves and checks the tightness of his obi, constantly making sure his perfect outfit is perfect enough. “Mind yer business, Sousuke.”
“My business is yer business, Captain. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t give me such elusive responses.”
Shinji snorts. Gin wants to laugh at the irony of the situation but he holds himself back. “Look at that… you blaming me for elusiveness.”
“Um, Captain Hirako?” calls a voice from the garden.
The familiarity of it strikes the room. Gin’s gaze darts to Aizen. His eyes darken for a second, gone like a gust of the wind but long enough for him to catch it.
“There’s yer answer,” Shinji mumbles before going outside, to where Urahara is patiently waiting for him.
“Kisuke! I told ya to cut it with the formalities.”
Poor Urahara looks pale and cheap standing next to Shinji. No doubt, this was supposed to be a casual outing and he dressed just for that. His hair is still unruly but soft and there’s a smudge of coal on his stubbly chin. Still, it’s obvious he made an effort with his appearance, though it all fades when he stands next to his date.
“My God, Captain HIrako,” he remarks. His cheeks burn pink, his eyes glimmer. “You look absolutely dashing.”
“Dashing,” Shinji gasps softly. He chews on the word with self-satisfaction, like it’s the sweetest treat. “Why dashing?”
“It’s the word that came to mind… Ah, Lieutenant Aizen! Third Seat Ichimaru! How are you?”
“Good,” Aizen replies before Gin can even think of opening his mouth. Aizen is funny when he’s like this, in a bad mood and not bothering to hide it. “These weekly outings of yours are becoming a tradition.”
It’s an absolutely innocent remark, and Shinji glares at him for it. Urahara merely laughs like he always does. Gin can see the sparks of electricity forming in the atmosphere.
“Seems like it! Hey! You should joi-”
“Alright!” Shinji shouts. He grabs Urahara by the hand and begins dragging him away.
“I’ll expect you back at midnight, Captain!” Aizen yells after them.
“My watch, Sousuke! Not yours!”
To everyone watching, this is a darling scene, the kind of light-hearted episode between the Division’s beloved Lieutenant and quirky Captain they're used to. Gin looks up. Aizen is clenching his jaw hard enough to grind his teeth to dust.
“Gin,” he says quietly.
“Sir.”
“Wait five minutes and follow them. Find what they’re up to and ruin it.”
“Riiiight!” Gin beams excitedly, relieved to be excused from the dull paperwork and Aizen’s presence.
…
Being promoted to Captain was never in Urahara’s scope of plans, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the perks. Finally, he’s independent from the Shihoin wealth. Even though he knows Yoruichi’s intentions are the purest, it feels incredible to finally afford all the things he wants. And to be honest, he wants for very little. It’s Shinji’s desires he can satisfy, the expensive restaurants, the beautiful clothing, the gorgeous gifts and occasional getaways. He knows Shinji’s affections run deeper than that, but neither of them ever tried making excuses for his materialistic nature. If anything, Urahara finds it endearing, the way his eyes light up when presented with a beautiful comb, like a cat tasting tuna for the first time.
With their bellies full of the freshest sashimi money can buy and their lips sticky from sake, the two men walk side by side along the riverbank, chatting and giggling like they’re the last people in the world. The lovely weather has permitted many shopkeepers to take their business down by the water, where the breeze flows sweeter and the lights from all the little shops paint the prettiest picture reflected upon the river’s dark depths. The streets are crowded, it seems as if every person in the Seireitei is out to enjoy this night.
“People are staring,” Urahara mumbles, head bowed low, avoiding the gaze of the people looking at them. He knows they’re not doing anything wrong, but the scrutiny is something he will never get used to.
“It’s because I look so good,” Shinji laughs. He skips a bit ahead, tugging Urahara along. “Come,” he says. “I know a spot.”
Urahara follows him blindly, with the excitement of a child. Hell, Shinji could be dragging him to a certain death, somewhere to swallow him whole, and Urahara would still follow. Instead of a death trap, Shinji takes him to a quiet spot along the river bank, underneath a willow tree, right beside an old, unused bridge. The sounds and colors from the street market reach them faintly, white noise trying to burst into their little fantasy.
Shinji moves to sit on the grass but Urahara quickly removes his haori and lays it under them. “There,” he smiles with satisfaction. “Now your clothes won’t get ruined.”
“How thoughtful of ya. Ya take care of every suitor ya have like that?”
“Oh, suitors,” Urahara chuckles. “Quit teasing me, Captain Hirako.”
Shinji pouts. “Say my name.”
His name. It still feels odd calling him that, even after being inside him so many times, as close as another person can be to another. “Shinji,” he whispers.
“Good boy.”
They’re laying down on Urahara’s coat, letting the river’s quiet murmur fill the night’s silence. Shinji’s golden hair shines like a halo around him, sucking the moon’s silver light.
“The stars are beautiful tonight,” he says.
“Yes.” Urahara’s tender gaze seeks Shinji’s amber eyes, his lips, his neck. He touches him sweetly, brushing those golden locks away from his face. “The stars, yes.”
He leans down, catching the other Captain’s lips in a kiss. Shinji smiles against his mouth, moving his hand into Urahara’s hair and grabbing a fistful of his locks. He deepens the kiss, pulling Urahara down to lie on top of him.
“Here?” Urahara questions breathlessly. His heart is drumming in his chest. All his blood is rushing south, emptying his brain in seconds.
“Yes,” Shinji hisses, biting down on his bottom lip. His quick fingers are tugging on Urahara’s clothes, eager to find skin. “I’ve been thinkin’ about havin’ ya inside of me all fuckin’ day.” He locks his ankles around Urahara’s waist and pulls him close. A few layers of fabric separate them but they can feel each other’s arousal, rubbing impatiently against satin and silk, waiting to be released. “I want you to fuck me, pretty boy. Fuck me ‘till the whole city knows we’re here.”
Their lips meet once more, starving for each other, biting and licking as if a whole new world of tastes has opened for them. Urahara’s mouth moves lower, biting along the flawless column of Shinji’s neck. He alternates the bites with gentle kisses, chasing the other man’s excited heartbeat under his soft skin. He leans back to admire him before his meticulous beauty is torn apart, replaced with another, far wilder.
A loud splash behind them startles the pair, who quickly turn to the source of the sound. The river’s tranquil surface is disturbed, its mirror-like reflection broken by small rings and waves.
“What was that?” questions Shinji.
“Maybe…Maybe it was fish?”
Shinji stares at the dark waters with a frown. He looks around, giving the whole area a quick scan. “Some pesky fucking fish these are…”
This interruption means nothing when their desire burns this hot. They melt into one another’s embrace yet again, kissing lazily as their hard members rub against each other. Silence takes over once more, broken only by a soft sigh or groan, the sacred whisper of a lover’s name.
Another sound, louder. A terrified, enraged cat being thrown into the water and running back out, screaming during the entire process. Shinji springs up, throwing Urahara off of him.
“I’ll go and take a look,” he says.
“S-Should I come with you?”
“Nah. Just stay here in case any of those fish make it to shore.”
Shinji quickly ties his hakama around his waist and walks towards the bridge. He can only see the peaceful meadow and the moon reflected on the river, but he can hear it, scurrying among the grass like a terrified rat. He can feel this tiny spiritual presence and he knows he’ll never catch up to it. Might as well call it out now.
“Gin,” he says, voice steady, humorless. “Come out immediately.”
A moment of doubtful silence passes before his Third Seat reveals himself, wearing his mischievous little grin as always.
“Fancy seein’ ya here, Captain.”
Shinji narrows his eyes. He approaches the kid and kneels down in front of him. Gin is smiling that elvish smile, yet his nervousness bursts through the seams.
The Captain seizes his subordinate by the shoulders, inwardly satisfied with that scared little gasp. “Yer gonna go back to the barracks and tell Sousuke that if he even thinks about doing this shit again, he’s gonna get dishonorably discharged. And then, whatever the fuck he’s been cookin’ is gonna burn in the oven. Have I made myself clear, Third Seat?”
Gin gulps. “Crystal, sir.”
“Good. Off ya go, now.”
Gin disappears in a matter of seconds. Shinji looks around once more, trying to find more prying eyes in the dark. He sighs. Urahara is waiting for him, just as Shinji had left him.
“Well?” he asks. “Was it a cat or fish?”
“Nah, just a rat.” Shinji shoves him down and climbs on top, keeping him pinned with an open-mouthed kiss. “Where were we?”
…
Shinji rolls over lazily, laying cheek-down on Urahara’s chest. The sun is starting to rise, the first few rays enter through the window and spill on the floor like honey-wine.
“We need to find a place where we can meet in peace,” he says. He takes the time to yawn, opening his mouth widely and stretching like a sleepy cat. The two lovers are tucked away in an unused room in the Fifth Division. Aizen is busy in the Human World until tomorrow, and that grants them some time to spend together safe, sound and unbothered.
“Yer Division ain’t good, either. Not with Hiyori and that damn freak all up in yer business.”
Urahara chuckles. He wraps his arms around his lover, squeezing him in his embrace. “I’m popular, what can I say?”
Shinji snorts. “I’m serious, Kisuke. I’m tired of meeting ya like we’re schoolkids. I’m too old fer it.”
Kisuke stops to think for a moment. “I could ask Yoruichi-san for a room in her estate. We could use that for a retreat.”
“Absolutely not,” Shinji refuses adamantly. “I told ya, I don’t want strangers meddling!”
“She’s not a stranger,” Kisuke argues quietly. He doesn’t press the argument further. “Maybe… rent a little house somewhere?”
Shinji considers this suggestion. He pushes himself up on his elbows, grinning down at Kisuke, struck by a wonderful idea. “Tell ya what. I think I found a solution. I’ll send ya a message when and where to meet me.”
Urahara accepts this compliantly. Said message appears in his office a couple of days later, days during which he hadn’t even had a glimpse of Shinji. The message instructs him to disguise himself as discretely as possible, exit the Seireitei through the Eastern Gate at dusk and meet Shinji at the location marked with an X on the map provided. Indeed, the dotted path Shinji has drawn shows the way from the 12th’s barracks all the way to an all-too-well-known neighborhood in East Rukongai’s 2nd Borough.
Urahara does exactly as instructed. He keeps Hiyori busy with menial tasks and satisfies Mayuri’s curiosity with a surface admission of what he’s about to do. He can bear the sneers and mockery, his excitement makes up for it tenfold.
The 2nd Borough in Rukongai is known for one thing: brothels and other indulgences. Although these establishments were built with the Captain Commander and Nobility’s silent, begrudging compliance, they deemed building them in the shadow of the Holy City to be too much of a blasphemy. Tucking them just a little bit further away seemed to do the trick, not only are they out of sight, but they are conveniently close to those hoping to make a quick trip. Not once during his journey there did Urahara stop to think about Shinji’s intentions.
His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he spots his lover, waiting for him outside a short building. Its exterior is plain and quiet, much like the others that surround it.
“Captain Hirako!” he exclaims and Shinji’s face loses all its color.
“Shh! Idiot!”
“I’m sorry!” Urahara apologizes meekly. “I just got excited…”
Shinji rolls his eyes. “Listen. While we’re here, yer gonna be Mr. Rochester and I’ll be Heathcliff, alright?”
“Mr. Rochester…” Urahara tries the foreign words in his mouth, trying to conjure an image of whoever this ‘Mr. Rochester’ is. “Alright. And what are Heathcliff and Mr. Rochester here to do?” Stupid question, judging by the look on Shinji’s face. “This is... a brothel, I take it.”
Shinji smiles wryly. He takes Urahara’s hand and guides him inside the building. Surprisingly, the interior is just as plain and unassuming as the exterior, the only noticeable trait being the several doors placed on either side of the long, empty hall.
“Not quite,” he explains. “It’s more of a guest house. Each room has a theme and yer free to rent it and spend some hours in peace with yer lover.”
An interesting concept, Urahara has to admit. “And which one did Heathcliff book?”
Shinji’s smile is positively devilish. He fishes a key from within his pocket and uses it to unlock one of the doors.
“The best one.”
The new world that opens for Urahara is one of splendor, fitting Shinji’s luxurious, never-satisfied taste. Gold, deep plum and royal blue color the room brilliantly. The floor is covered with a smooth, plush rug that melts under their feet. The bed, the room’s centerpiece, is dressed in lush satin and silk, surrounded by velvet drapes that offer any couple even more privacy. Most interesting of all, Urahara notices the various mirrors place strategically around the room - bolted on the canopy, on the headboard, on the foot of the bed - giving a clear view of the bed and everything that happens on it. Their hosts were even gracious enough to prepare for them a carafe of sweet red wine and ripe strawberries. The two Captains toast and take a moment to admire their surroundings.
“I have to admit, I’ve never been in a place like this before.”
“First time fer everything’.”
Urahara sits down on the bed, running his hand along the smooth, satin cover. He has no mind for luxury but even has to admit: this feels exquisite.
“This must have cost you a fortune.”
“Oh, please. It’s nothing if it goes toward spoilin’ my babygirl.”
Urahara snorts, wine spilling through his nose. “B-Babygirl?!”
Shinji swiftly removes the glass from Urahara’s grasp and places it on the table. “Uh-huh.”
He sits down, straddling Urahara’s hips. His grin is contagious, the musky scent in the room makes his amber eyes look hypnotizing. Urahara feels this drunkenness spread over his limbs, almost like the numbness of cold but sweeter, tantalizing.
“Then, if it’s really that expensive, you have to let me make it up to you.”
“Oh, I take any currency. But ya can start with callin’ me by my name.”
Urahara smooths his hands over Shinji’s hips, circling his waist and pushing him down on the bed, pinning him down.
“As you wish, Shinji.”
Shinji purrs with satisfaction. He spreads his legs widely, pulling Urahara in his embrace. They kiss each other with all the fervor they’ve been saving for days, tugging on each other’s clothes until everything is laying in a useless pile on the floor. Their bodies melt together, dancing along the same rhythm, following that repetitive push-and-pull dance. Shinji keeps a hand loosely wrapped around both their cocks, keeping them together. The friction is delicious, but it’s far from enough. He feels Shinji’s grin against his stubbly chin, all teeth ready to tear him apart.
“Fuck me,” he whines. He thrusts his hips up, grinding hard against Urahara’s leaking cock. “I want that pretty thing inside of me.”
Kisuke doesn’t need to be told twice. He stumbles out of bed, hoping his eager clumsiness went unnoticed. As expected, the establishments was kind enough to supply them with a wide variety of oils, lubricants and other substances who properties Urahara can only fantasize about. He looks at all those colorful vials, placed next to leather straps and all sorts of other intriguing instruments and wishes they had more time in this place, a whole week perhaps, to test out the limits of pleasure and read each other’s bodies like books.
He returns to the bed where Shinji is eagerly waiting for him. He stops for a second, taking the sight in. His lover looks like a golden fawn, bendy and lithe, calling him to dig his teeth into that long neck, drain the blood from those supple thighs. He runs a warm, calloused hand over Shinji’s pale body, leaning down to kiss the path he just touched. His calf and knee, the sharp bones of his loins, the tuft of dark, blonde hair above his erection, his pink nipples, his lips. He kisses Shinji slowly, teasingly, smiling when the other man follows his lead.
Urahara pours oil over his entire hand, rubbing his fingers together to warm it up. Shinji shifts, spreading his legs wider to help Urahara. His lubed-up fingers seek that tight ring of muscle, rubbing it in small circles.
“Ah,” Shinji gasps, fists curling around the sheets.
His entire body delfates with a sigh. He melts under Kisuke’s touch, all the while his lover whispers sweet nothings in his ear, honey-warm filth about how good he’s doing, how well he’s taking this.
“Greedy little thing,” Urahara coos, rubbing his cheek against Shinji’s hair. He thrusts three fingers in and out of his lover’s entrance, looking down at him with the utmost adoration.
“Kisuke,” Shinji calls to him, blindly seeking his kiss.
They make out slowly, the filthy sounds of the exchange filling the room as Kisuke continues finger-fucking him. He has four fingers inside of him now and Shinji’s eyes have rolled to the back of his skull, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Urahara rubs his prostate firmly and Shinji’s body twitches and shakes, closer and closer to its release. After getting Shinji used to the delicious stretch, Urahara folds his thumb and shoves his entire fist inside of his lover.
“Oh, fuck!” cries Shinji, his whole body arching. His heels dig into the mattress, chest and waist lifting off of the bed. “Fuckfuckfuck!”
His hysteric cries reach a crescendo and Urahara hopes these walls are soundproof. He comes all over his thighs and belly, yet Urahara still fucks him relentlessly, watching as the sparks of his orgasm mellow down to twitches and spasms.
“Kisuke,” he whines needily, blinking up at him. “Kisuke, it’s too much…”
“It’s not enough, sweetheart.”
He removes his hand and wipes it on the sheets. God, he’s hard. He climbs over Shinji, claiming his mouth in another bruising kiss while pushing inside his stretched hole. They moan over the same breath, the sweat gluing their bodies together.
“Wanna see ya fuckin’ me…”
Urahara flips Shinji to his stomach, holding his ass high while thrusting into him slowly, savoring every second. The view is phenomenal. He can see both Shinji’s hole, beautifully stretched around his cock while also looking at the blonde’s flushed, tear-wet face. Holding Shinji by the hips, Kisuke starts thrusting into him, firmly but gently at the same time, setting a pace that has them both huffing and gasping for air.
Shinji crawls up to his arms, bending his waist like all sultry and feline-like. Urahara grabs him by the throat, sticking them together. The scent of sex fills the musky room, the sound of flesh hitting flesh is almost as loud as their own wanton moans.
“Ya like watchin’, ya sick fuck?” Shinji grins shakily. He pulls Kisuke down, kissing him hard. “Ya like seein’ me like this?”
Urahara’s hand travels lower, wrapping around Shinji’s limp cock. The blonde mewls pathetically, falling boneless against Kisuke.
“I want to have you like this every day.” Urahara inhales his scent, licks his sweat like it’s the sweetest nectar. “On my cock just like that, hearing you cry for it.”
They make the prettiest pair. Flushed red-hot and sweaty, melting into each other so seamlessly. Their fingers touch as their bodies collide. It seems like God made it so it would be like this. Ordinary people can only ever dream of such perfection.
Urahara cums deep inside of Shinji, feeling his taut belly swell under his fingers. He tugs on Shinji’s cock, only letting go until the both of them lay completely empty, limp, boneless. They collapse on the bed in a heap of sweaty limbs. Urahara is still inside Shinji but the other man doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he snuggles closer to Kisuke, purring with satisfaction.
Kisuke sighs. He runs his hand through Shinji’s sweaty hair. “We should definitely do this more often.”
“Sure. The owner is an old friend, we should be able to book this whenever we like.”
“Terrific. I’m already thinking of a few ideas for next time.”
Intrigued, Shinji pulls away. He moves to sit on Kisuke’s chest, taking both his hands and laying them down beside his head. He leans down, grinning from one ear to the other and presses his lips on Kisuke’s forehead.
“I sometimes wonder what in that mind of yours…”
…
By now, Shinji has had enough experience with ‘the walk of shame’ to consider himself an expert at it. He returns back to his Division just as dawn is breaking, panting and limping, cursing the long path to his room he usually enjoys so much. Finally, he’s greeted with the delightfully familiar sight of his bed. He collapses with a deep groan. His entire body aches with the most wonderful pain, but the fatigue still persists.
“Tell me somethin’, Sousuke,” he calls, not bothering to look at the empty room surrounding him.
“Yes.”
“Is this a kink thing or…?”
Aizen steps forward, revealing himself from underneath the invisibility barrier. He can’t help the smile on his lips. He almost feels proud of Shinji for catching wind of him so effortlessly.
“It’s mere interest for your well-being, sir.”
“Watching me get fucked wasn’t in yer duties, as far as I remember.”
“As opposed to doing the fucking myself?”
Shinji has enough energy in his to glare. “That’ll be all. And don’t think about disturbin’ me today. I wanna sleep.”
“Of course, sir.” As Aizen exits the room, he stops, looking back at Shinji. “Sir, about what you said to Gin the other day.”
“Yeah?”
“What am I ‘cooking’ exactly?”
Shinji yawns, his jaws splitting open like a starving boa. “Only time will tell.”