Greetings beloved readers, and Happy New Year! This chapter was actually intended to come out on New Year's Eve, but I got a nasty case of the flu and couldn't finish it properly. So! That said, I have finished Kisuke's birthday fic a little late. This chapter is NC-17 with all that implies. Boy smut is a good way to start the new year, no?

Urahara Kisuke hated to clean.

It wasn't that he was a particularly dirty kind of person (filthy mind notwithstanding), he simply hated the physical labor involved with the endless sweeping and vacuuming and dusting and mopping. He hated the way the dust bunnies paraded out from under the futon stand and the way the back of the closet smelled when you aired out the old clothes you don't really wear anymore. He hated ringing out the mop and scrubbing the toilet, hated vacuuming those little corners behind the furniture and polishing the windows. And…more than anything…he hated cleaning the oven. There was no more vile chore in all the world than to put on those long, yellow rubber gloves and crawl into the oven's mouth like Hansel and Gretel in the witch's house.

The fact that he was doing all these things on his birthday certainly didn't help matters either.

However, it couldn't be avoided. New years eve was glittering upon the shores of Japan, and that meant each nook and cranny of every house had to be cleaned within an inch of its life. It was a tradition, and as much as Kisuke hated doing it, there was a certain satisfaction in the end result of a day's worth of scrubbing and dusting. Granted, he felt disgusting and his sweaty hair was matted to his forehead like he'd participated in a triathlon, but the house and shoten were finally, blissfully, and all together immaculately clean. Next year they were hiring a maid service.

Kisuke sighed as he stood up from his last chore, pulling the soiled green head rag off his hair and trudging almost mournfully into the laundry room to toss it into the washing machine. As he poured a heaping cup of soap flakes into the hot water, he lamented on his lot in life and the sheer cruelness of it all. It was the same every year. It seemed almost brutally unfair that he should be forced to perform such menial tasks on his birthday, washing and cleaning like a scullery maid when he should have been pampered. Shouldn't this have been a day when he was spoiled?

"Why me?" he complained melodramatically, shutting the lid with a woeful sigh before hopping up on the machine to sit for a moment.

"Why you, what?" Ichigo walked into the room, his face obscured by the heaping pile of laundry that he carried in his arms. "Are you being a drama queen again?"

"I am not!" A plump bottom lip protruding from his mouth, Kisuke jumped down from the washer to cross his arms over his chest in a petulant motion. He was not being dramatic! This was serious business. A person should be spoiled on their birthday, not forced into what could only be described as slave labor! It was unconscionable.

Slowly, Ichigo began separating the clothes into their distinctive color piles, glancing up every now and again with a small, almost secretive smile on his face. What was so amusing? What did Ichigo know that Urahara didn't? The thought of being ignorant of something sent a wave of vague annoyance through Kisuke's veins, his eyes narrowing dangerously even as he clutched his crossed arms closer to his body. He hated not knowing things. He hated being out of the loop. Ichigo knew that! So what was he hiding?

His frustration was interrupted when Ichigo came forward to press their lips together unexpectedly, tugging gently at Kisuke's hair even though it was nasty and pushing them together against the washing machine. The kiss was deliciously sweet, temptingly gentle, and more than enough to banish the ho-hums from his mood before he could even question the reasoning behind such a surprising exchange. It was a few moments before their lips reluctantly disengaged, Urahara burying his face into the curve of Ichigo's neck and inhaling deeply.

Before promptly pulling away, his nose wrinkling with repugnance.

"You smell terrible Kurosaki-kun," he teased playfully, brushing their lips together again with a light laugh. "How can you ring in the new year reeking of filth?"

A glare of mock irritation was sent in his direction before Ichigo promptly grabbed his hand and led him wordlessly into the master bathroom, locking the door behind them with a decisive click. Both their clothes were soon in a pile, the room beginning to fill with sweet-smelling steam that clung to Kisuke's skin as he deposited himself on the small sitting stool at Ichigo's urging. He was about to ask what the younger man was up to when a liberal amount of shampoo was drizzled onto his head and deliciously massaged into his hair by Ichigo's long fingers.

Pure bliss.

Now this was more like it! Kisuke's mouth expressed his appreciation for the small comfort, raining kisses on Ichigo's belly to feel the muscles contract under his lips with each delicate brush. He could have remained that way for the entirety of his birthday, just him and Ichigo's fingernails scraping ever so relaxingly against his scalp. Of course, he'd eventually grow weary of the treatment and demand that Ichigo's hands occupy themselves with other parts of his anatomy, but that could wait until later when they could ring in the new year properly.

Slightly rough hands had moved from his head and journeyed to his neck where they pressed soap onto the dirty skin, rubbing away the feel of grime and sweat before traveling further down. Ichigo seemed intent on his task, raising Kisuke's arm to massage slowly at the palm of his hand while the water ran over both their skins, his eyes soft and peaceful. Urahara gazed up at him through wet bangs, wrapping his arms around Ichigo's waist when his hand was released and squeezing him tightly around the middle, closing his eyes in pleasure. Yes, this was definitely more like it.

"Let's just spend the rest of the day in bed." Kisuke leaned back against the wall, watching with lazy interest as Ichigo began washing his own hair, hands scrubbing a bit more roughly than they'd been doing a moment ago. "We could take a nap, indulge a few birthday fantasies, and wake up in time for the new year."

"Sounds fantastic." Ichigo shook his squeaky-clean head in a somewhat canine fashion, sending droplets of water all over the bathroom walls and onto the mirror. "But I think your guests would feel left out, don't you?"

Ahhh yes, his guests. Of course, it would be rather rude of them to spend the whole of new year's eve in bed when they had guests wandering around the house…and….waitaminute!

"Guests?" Urahara's eyebrow rose curiously. He didn't remember inviting anyone over to the shoten tonight. In fact, he'd planned to spend the majority of the evening discovering creative ways to make Ichigo writhe on as many suitable surfaces as he could find. What was this "guest" nonsense? Was he doomed to never get any birthday sex at all?! Birthday sex was the best part of having a birthday!

Truly, he was a cursed, tormented man.

A long finger poked at the tip of his nose, jarring him from his self-absorption long enough to look up at a pair of amused brown eyes that were situated very close to his own. As sappily sentimental as it sounded, the color of Ichigo's eyes almost always made him feel about ten degrees warmer, heating up all the lonely places that had froze over in the past hundred years. One by one, all the eroded holes were being filled by this precious, headstrong, naughty young man.

"It's your birthday dumb-ass. It's also new year's eve. What, did you think we were going to spend the whole night having sex?" When Kisuke didn't respond right away, Ichigo's eyebrow twitched in a strange mixture of affection and annoyance. "Don't even bother to answer that…I already know. Get up and get dressed."

The smell of soba was drifting warmly through the house when he opened the door to his bedroom, the sound of numerous scuttling feet giving him the impression that there were far more people there than had been only an hour before. Casting a questioning look over at Ichigo, the redhead merely grinned and pushed him through the open door of the kitchen where he was met with at least a dozen surprised smiles and a table full of what appeared to be food. With Tessai one never really knew.

"And what's this?" he asked innocently, putting a hand up to his chest. "Could it be that all of you managed to remember my birthday this year?"

"Nah." Ichigo wrapped his arms around Kisuke's waist from behind, gently kissing the back of his neck and sending pleasant shivers across his skin. "I promised them free food and they circled like the vultures they are."

"That is not true!" Renji paused the noodles making their way to his mouth long enough to disagree. "I came for the big screen tv! Kohaku is on in a little while and I liked that show last year!"

True to form, two hours later a dozen people were sitting around a very large television arguing somewhat drunkenly and placing modest (or in Renji's case, not so modest) bets on who would win the annual singing contest, the vast majority of Kisuke's birthday cake distributed amongst them as they squabbled. The fruit, rice, wonton, tonkatsu, gyoza, daigakuimo, and yakisoba had also met their deaths at the hands of a gaggle of very hungry teenagers and shinigami. Not to mention there was an incredibly large soy sauce stain on the carpet leading from the kitchen to the living room, which Toushiro would only explain by pointing at Matsumoto with a very disparaging look on his face. Of course, she denied all claims of wrongdoing, though Tessai had promised some kind of vague and painful punishment later if she was lying.

The night was going rather well actually…

"Who are you betting on?" Ichigo opened his eyes long enough to ask, curled protectively in the curve of Kisuke's arm where he'd been situated most of the night. The two of them had deposited themselves on the pillows directly in front of the television early on, having claimed that the birthday boy shouldn't have to sit across the room from the entertainment and Ichigo would have to sit close by default. Ishida argued that was playing favorites…and really…Kisuke couldn't really disagree. Ichigo was, by far, his favorite. "I'm going with the white team. They have better singers."

"I don't know Kurosaki-kun," Kisuke murmured, rubbing delicate patterns on Ichigo's neck idly before trailing fingers slowly down his side, delighting in the shiver he received in return. "The white team has won the last three years. The red team is due a victory just by the law of averages."

"You want to make a little private bet then?" Ichigo's eyes lit up slightly, taking a short sip of sake from his cup and leaning in enthusiastically. "Something to spice up the end of the night a little?"

Kisuke's mind whirled with the possibilities, images flying through his head as he gazed thoughtfully down at his lover with an unreadable smile. To be honest…there had been something he'd been wanting for a while, something that only Ichigo could really give him, something he'd been fantasizing about for months. Granted, he was a bit nervous to ask the younger man for it, partially because of his own trust issues and partially because Ichigo would undoubtedly be slightly thrown off balance by his request. But, nevertheless, the fact remained that Urahara Kisuke, the man who prided himself on always being in control, of always being on top of things, of always being right…desperately wanted a night on bottom.

It wasn't that he didn't like being on top! Far from it. It was merely that every so often, he rather enjoyed the delicious feeling of being fucked securely into the mattress, of having to hang on for dear life as his lover took whatever they wanted from him and more. He wasn't too proud to admit to his desires, especially when they involved Ichigo. And wouldn't Ichigo make the most gorgeous seme ever? Kisuke shook his head as a few of his more…questionable fantasies played out in his mind's eye.

"Kisuke?" Ichigo's eyebrows were close together, his face a mask of concern. Perhaps he'd been daydreaming a little too long? "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine!" he said jovially, pulling Ichigo closer so that he could brush his lips against the curve of his ear and whisper into the shell. "How about…if I win, I get to be on bottom and if you win, you get to be on top."

Ichigo instantly froze against him, drawing away with an unreadable expression. For a few moments they merely stared at each other, Ichigo's eyes widening to the size of teacups as he pondered the implications of the bet. Finally, he seemed to collect himself and leaned in towards Kisuke's ear, his shuddering breath sending a wave of budding lust down the older man's spine.

"Are you sure?" Ichigo whispered breathily, his voice clearly uncertain. "I've never done it before…what if I hurt you?"

"Ichigoooo," Kisuke pouted, pulling away to give him big puppy dog eyes and a jutting bottom lip. No one could resist the magnetic pull of his pathetic look! "It's my birthday!"

"O-okay. But don't blame me if you don't like it!"

Not bothering to give the bet any more thought (for now), Kisuke pulled his haori off his arms and drew Ichigo closer with it, tugging the fabric up over the orange head with a soft chuckle. He quickly dove under the canopy of his coat as well, ignoring the calls from Ishida for them to get a room, and proceeded to kiss his worried lover senseless until Ichigo relaxed against him once more. It wasn't as though this was a hugely big deal after all, and once the younger man got used to the idea, they might even switch up more often!

Approximately two hours later Kisuke was discussing (I.e. arguing) with Yoruichi about whether or not Soul Society would ever give him a proper pardon (they still hadn't actually admitted that he'd done nothing wrong…per se) when he heard a soft snore coming from beside him. Looking down at the young bundle in his arms, he smiled at the absolutely charming picture his lover made using him as a human pillow. Sparing a glance over at the nearest clock, he laughed to discover that Ichigo had not actually made it to midnight at all. 11:05.

It was time for bed.

"Good night, and happy birthday Yoruichi-san," he whispered, lifting Ichigo in his arms and grunting when the younger man wrapped his long legs around him and squeezed tightly. "You'll see that everyone finds their arrangements for the night, yes?"

Without waiting for an answer, he made his way slowly to his bedroom, gently depositing Ichigo on the futon before turning to lock the door. There was really no point in hurrying now, not since Ichigo was out cold for the night and Kisuke was loathe to wake him. Even though the war was over, Urahara knew far too well that the younger man slept fitfully at best and rarely rested as much as he should. There was lingering tension in his blood that would probably never really go away. Ichigo would sleep until morning.

"Gods, I thought we'd never be alone."

Kisuke turned abruptly to the sound of a very sultry, very awake voice coming from behind him, eyes going wide at the sight of Ichigo quite alertly snuggled against the mattress. An orange eyebrow rose when Kisuke didn't move right away, the redhead patting the bed in a come hither gesture with a not-so-subtle nod of his head. Urahara was impressed. He must have been rubbing off on the younger man for him to resort to such blatant trickery just to get a little privacy.

"You could have just said you were tired." Kisuke slid slowly onto the futon and spoke between kisses, moving up to bite playfully at Ichigo's ear until a rosy pink mark began to spread along the skin where his teeth were impacting. "Though I am impressed with the subterfuge."

"I learned from the best." Ichigo's arms circled around him tightly, rolling them until Kisuke was firmly on his back staring up at an absolute wet dream straddling his hips. The younger man's shirt was slowly risen, slowly exposing line after line of gorgeous abdomen to Kisuke's hungry gaze, the fabric tossed carelessly aside in a wrinkled puddle. Urahara's hands quickly followed his eyes, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns along each defined muscle, teasing at the dusky nipples that were already standing pert before he even grazed them. Ichigo bit at his bottom lip, head tipping backwards even as his eyes grew dark with desire.

The urge to have Ichigo ride him was almost overwhelming, the sheer thought of those supple legs clenching against his thighs while he bounced on Kisuke's cock nearly enough to melt his mind into a state of pure putty. But he couldn't let that happen! He still had to get his birthday sex! And it wasn't going to be birthday sex without Ichigo filling his body up and fucking him through the floorboards. After all…he had promised.

Reaching up, Kisuke pulled the younger man down, licking at his bottom lip before sinking his teeth harshly into the flesh. "Time to keep your promises Ichigo," he purred low in his throat, watching the redhead's eyes darken and sparkle with understanding. To further illustrate his intentions, Kisuke spread his thighs wide, allowing Ichigo's body to slide in between and let their groins fall together, both of them hissing at the sensation. This was going to be so good…he could just tell.

Before he could ponder their future pleasure any further, he found himself suddenly divested of numerous articles of clothing, Ichigo's warm mouth biting a stinging trail down the middle of his chest as his broad hand cupped Urahara's cock in his palm and massaged it in a way that could only be described as dominating. Kisuke's groaning voice came out strained, meeting his lover's eyes and smiling at the growing longing bubbling behind that sweet face. Ichigo grinned back, cocking his head to the side in a questioning gesture before swiftly tugging the older man's pants down the rest of the way, leaving him deliciously, gloriously naked.

"You really want this, don't you?" Ichigo settled down on his belly between Kisuke's legs, chuckling gently as he bit down on the inside of his thigh. "You really want me buried balls deep inside that sweet ass of yours."

"Yes," came Urahara's whispered reply, his blood practically set on fire by the brazenness of Ichigo's words. Of course, Ichigo's mouth drawing down around his cock wasn't too damn bad either, and his fingers brushing back behind his balls was definitely something that Kisuke could enjoy.

His head fell backwards as his cock was assaulted with a mind-melting mixture of tongue and teeth, shaking fingers digging into bright orange locks as he struggled to hold back his moans lest he alert everyone in the house to their current condition. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have given a damn whether or not everyone knew what they were up to, but he didn't want to give Ichigo any reason whatsoever to feel self-conscious. The younger man was already nervous, and he probably would react poorly to anyone giving him trouble after this was over.

And trouble for Ichigo would almost assuredly involve never topping again as long as they lived.

A particularly hard scrape at the base of his cock made Kisuke groan brokenly, throwing a hand up over his mouth and biting down hard against the bend of his thumb to mute himself. Quiet. Silence. Be quiet! But a long suckle at a sensitive vein and he was bucking upwards, a dragging tongue along the tip and his head thrashed wildly from side to side, a warm laugh vibrating up his erection and he nearly lost it, gritting his teeth and moaning out Ichigo's name as though it were his last hope of salvation. Ichigo's mouth and hands were everywhere, and they washed away everything. But it was a pleasant nothingness, like floating on waves of pure elation, of pure bliss, of unending desire.

And then it hit him, the somewhat nerve-wracking sensation of a slick finger pushing past the first ring of muscle and diving into his body, making his eyes go wide and his breath come out shakily. It had been a long time since someone had done this to him, and the feeling of being breached after so many years wasn't something that he could immediately become comfortable with. Fingering yourself was one thing, but having someone else do it was an entirely different matter all together.

But this was Ichigo…it was Ichigo…and he loved Ichigo. And Ichigo would never hurt him, no matter what. And he was too old to be this nervous about being fucked by his lover...and…and…

"Kisuke?" Ichigo pulled up off his cock, bringing their faces together though he didn't stop the inward movement of his finger. "Look at me Kisuke."

Eyes he couldn't remember closing opened back up, and he stared dazedly up into a pair of sweet amber irises, reaching to cup at Ichigo's face and kiss softly at his lips. Everything was fine. The finger already buried deep inside him was joined by another, and he winced slightly as they stretched and scissored at his body, prompting his kisses to turn desperate and messy in an attempt to distract himself. So far it wasn't working, but Ichigo's touch was gentle, his mouth pulling away from Kisuke's to rain soothing kisses all along his brow line, making the older man feel somewhat foolish and immature.

Then again, being with Ichigo had taught him that no matter how much he might think he knew himself, there would always be surprises around every turn as long as he held onto the young man's hand.

"Am I hurting you?" Ichigo whispered softly, sweeping the hair out of Kisuke's eyes with a deeply concerned expression, though his flushed cheeks and sweaty skin betrayed how very much he was restraining his own lust. "I can stop…"

"No!" Urahara rapidly protested, pushing his hips down harshly onto Ichigo's fingers to force them upwards against his prostate. The pleasure and reaction were instant, his voice calling out loudly despite his initial attempts to rein it in, fingers digging into the flesh of Ichigo's back and raking his nails down the skin. And Ichigo's reaction was prompt as well, slamming their lips together fiercely and fingerfucking Kisuke until he was certain he was only a few strokes short of coming all over his own belly. What had Ichigo been concerned about again? This was fantastic, wonderful, mind breaking, delicious, spectacular, any number of all-together-good adjectives that you could possibly come up with.

He whined somewhat pathetically when the fingers were abruptly removed, turning his head slightly to the side to chuckle at his own lack of self-control. Ichigo, confused by the sudden sound, raised a curious eyebrow, rubbing their noses together determinedly to get Kisuke's attention. He looked odd, almost as though he couldn't believe that Urahara would be laughing at a time like this and not exactly certain what had caused the reaction. Did he think he'd done something wrong?

"You're fine," Kisuke leaned upwards, brushing their lips together. "It's just odd feeling like a virgin when I'm old enough to remember Queen Victoria."

Above him Ichigo smiled warmly, shaking his head before becoming suddenly very serious, sitting back on his haunches to survey the situation. "So…what now? I mean, how do you…?"

Deciding to make things a bit easier on his young lover, Kisuke gently pushed upwards and flipped them around, watching Ichigo's hair fan out on the pillow beneath him like an erotic novel come to life. Just because Urahara wasn't going to be seeing Ichigo ride his cock tonight didn't mean he couldn't do a little bareback riding himself. Not to mention it would take some of the pressure off Ichigo's nerves and let him enjoy himself a bit more.

"Allow me." Kisuke murmured, spreading his thighs to either side of Ichigo's strong hips with a lustful grin. At first Ichigo didn't seem to know what was going on, but when Urahara reached down to grasp the redhead's cock in his hand and position it at his ass, understanding filled the teenager's eyes like liquid mercury. His hands rose instinctively then to the blonde's hips to steady him, pink tongue coming out to lick his lips in concentration for what would be coming next.

It would almost have been too cute…if Kisuke hadn't been so interested in being fucked senseless.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to lower himself onto Ichigo's cock, closing his eyes and leaning forward with a low moan as he did so. It didn't hurt so much as burn, stretching his body past the point of comfort and into a realm that he hadn't visited in so long that the sensation felt quite foreign. His skin was on fire; sweat beading up on every limb, his breath rushing out of him even as he tried to keep it in. Ichigo fit. There was no other way to describe it. They fit. Continuing to incline towards Ichigo's form, he sighed softly when he felt their chest's make contact, Ichigo's rising and falling more rapidly by the second. Momentarily concerned, Kisuke opened his eyes and smiled when his lover's body finally filled him up to the hilt and he could see straight again to study Ichigo's condition.

The boy looked as though he'd just been shot, eyes wide and vaguely frightened as he obviously fought for control of himself with each strained breath. His hands were quivering against Kisuke's hips, fingernails digging almost painfully into the sensitive skin, prompting the older man to rain understanding kisses all along Ichigo's forehead, hoping to calm him. It was a little overwhelming the first time you topped anyone, though Ichigo was handling it much better than Urahara had expected. He hadn't passed out yet or anything, so that was a good sign.

In fact, Urahara was so intent upon making sure Ichigo was well in hand that the first thrust took him completely by surprise, rocking him forward with a startled cry as Ichigo pulled out and slammed in again with more force. The fear was suddenly gone in those brown eyes, replaced by intense desire, his hands becoming steady against Kisuke's skin as they traveled upwards towards his nipples to tweak them teasingly. Urahara moaned and sat up straighter, balancing himself by placing his hands on Ichigo's shoulders and pushing himself down hard on the erection forcing its way inside him.

"Kisuke!" Ichigo cried out, hands gliding down Urahara's back to cup at his ass and squeeze, pulling the cheeks apart to give his own cock more room to work. His orange head fell backwards, adam's apple bobbing wildly as he swallowed and struggled to breath. "Fuck!"

Urahara sped up his hips, encouraged by Ichigo's growing intensity and his own rising desire. Every movement of their thighs smacking together, their bodies becoming slick and heavy, their hands sliding desperately across each other's skins, was making Kisuke's head go fuzzy, his teeth clench together, his heart pound frantically against his ribcage. Sounds were coming from his mouth now, not the normal grunts and moans of their usual lovemaking, but liquid, purring, deep moaning sounds, each time Ichigo's cock would pound into his ass and then pull back out, becoming louder as their bodies took up a more hurried pace.

An impassioned call of Ichigo's name fell from Urahara's lips as he tumbled almost clumsily forward, hands slipping against Ichigo's sweat-slick shoulders to wrap around his neck with possessive need. Their mouths met the moment he impacted the body below, tongues flicking out to tease at each other's teeth and rub against the undersides of their lips before pulling away in a mess of saliva, sharp curses and moans. Kisuke had long since ceased to care about whether or not they could be heard, his many-tracked-mind narrowed down to only the feel of Ichigo's body moving in and out of his own.

The rest would take care of itself.

Without warning he found himself flipped onto his back, wide gray eyes staring up into the face of a man that could only be described as somewhat desperate. Ichigo pressed trembling lips against his ear; breath panting out hotly into the shell as his body continued its assault, cock rubbing ceaselessly against Kisuke's prostate until he thought certainly his control would break at any moment. And yet the pleasure continued, winding his body into tighter and tighter knots while his thighs coiled securely around his lover's hips to support himself.

"Are…you close?" Ichigo gasped out loudly through a deep moan, pleading eyes within inches of Urahara's own. "I can't…"

Kisuke knew what he was trying to say. Neither of them could last much longer, and Ichigo was too inexperienced with being on top to continue at that pace for any extended period of time. It didn't really matter though…Kisuke was close. So close that he barely registered it when his fingers reached into Ichigo's hair and tugged sharply as his climax began to overtake him. He barely felt it when his teeth sunk down into Ichigo's shoulder and he felt his voice break from the ragged scream of pleasure ripped from his throat. He was really aware of nothing but the earth-shattering orgasm rippling through his body, setting every nerve alight, making him shudder involuntarily even as his body clamped down on Ichigo's cock so hard that Kisuke worried later that it might have actually hurt him.

Ichigo followed a split second later, mouth falling open in an expression of absolute awe, his voice that had been so loud moments before gone in a wash of extreme ecstasy. Kisuke clutched the younger man close through his peak, hardly able to hold on with his quivering arms and legs before letting them fall away when Ichigo whimpered breathlessly and collapsed heavily on top of him. Everything felt…fluffy. From the somewhat saddening feeling of Ichigo's erection softening and dislodging from his body to the way he was being gently curled into welcoming arms. Everything felt deliciously soft and pleasant.

They stayed that way for long minutes, neither man moving save for a tender brushing of skin or a half-whispered word of devotion. Kisuke eventually found himself nestled securely in the bend of Ichigo's arm, still-sweaty face pressed gently into a graceful neck while he luxuriated in the rain of kisses being bestowed on the top of his blonde head. He tried valiantly to repay the affection, nibbling soft bites along the pulse of Ichigo's neck, sucking at sensitive points, nipping almost playfully at the juncture of his ear and jawbone.

"Easy now, I can't do that again for a few minutes," Ichigo laughed quietly, looking down at him with an almost serene expression. "Besides…its time to ring in the new year."

"Isn't that what we were just doing?" Kisuke grinned somewhat lecherously, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Listen."

Pausing his teasing, Kisuke lifted his head up (with a great deal of effort) and tuned in his ears, smiling at the echoing rumble of a temple bell somewhere in the distance. Midnight had arrived, and with it the traditional sound of the season ringing out over the tops of the houses, calming the atmosphere instantly with their cleansing tone. Sighing quietly, Kisuke wrapped his arms around Ichigo's middle and closed his eyes, wishing he could remain in that precise moment for the next hundred years at least.

"Maybe next year I should pray to be less depraved," Urahara whispered, counting down the bells under his breath while the sounds of his houseguests celebrating in a far off room filtered through the peace. "Then I could finally live a virtuous life."

"It would never work," Ichigo countered, kissing his temple. "You're too set in your ways to stop now."

"You're only saying that because you'd miss my incredible lovemaking skills."

"Maybe," came the sleepily playful reply, Ichigo's voice drifting and slurring slightly.

"Maybe you're only saying that or maybe you'd miss my lovemaking?"

Silence.

"Ichigooooo!"

I actually started this story more than a year ago. Hard to believe. I'm glad you guys have stuck with me! This story is FAR from over, trust me. It's my baby and I love it. Happy 2009!