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<\/a>drummerdancer<\/b><\/a><\/span>Characters\/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi), Dragonshipping (Katsuya Jounouchi x Yami Yugi), others x Yami Yugi
Word Count: 764
Warnings: Adult themes, cursing, violence
Notes: High School AU, there might be more of this
Summary: “I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone, Kaiba, as much as I do you...you <\/span>mother-fuckin’ piece of shit.”<\/i>
“I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone, Kaiba, as much as I do you, right this fraction of a moment. You mother-fuckin’ piece of shit.”<\/i> <\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Those are some big words for someone of your stature. Did the mutt point you to a dictionary?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Shut the hell—hmf—”<\/i><\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami wished it were a sock, a piece of rope, sliced onion—his mind spun with alternatives he might prefer. Kaiba’s nasty-ass tongue was choking his thoughts, his angry, angry<\/i> thoughts—that wet slimy tongue of his pushed gridlock against Yami’s own, until Yami thought he might gag because this game of tonsil tennis felt more like bear-arming a freakish squid with blood-seeking suction cups searching for his gums. He should bite Kaiba; every taste bud of Yami’s said yes, bite this fucker!<\/i> and Kaiba pulled out grinning just as Yami snarled his teeth and scraped the bottom of Kaiba’s tongue.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba tched<\/i> like a prissy bastard and brushed his bangs into his eyes with just a sharp head toss. “Such a tease. Does Katsuya have to deal with this too? Or does he just flip you ass-up and get on with it?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami’s face bloomed with anger. “I—you! You—that’s not…”<\/i><\/span><\/p> <\/p> “True? Oh? It is.<\/i> I’ve seen <\/i>it. We’ve all see it. Katsuya recorded it, and showed us all during lunchtime. Your gag reflex is truly fascinating.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami’s stomach lurched like he’d been gut-kicked, churned like there was plexi-glass poking out his belly. No. That couldn’t be true. It couldn’t possibly. Jounouchi and he were—<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “You lie! Jounouchi is my friend and he wouldn’t—”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Friend? Ha!” <\/i>Kaiba bent his head back and laughed, then grabbed Yami by the collar and pulled them chest-to-chest, sternum-to-sternum, and purred, “Then I want to be your friend too. Free blow jobs are right up my creek…or should I say…down yours?…he he.”<\/i><\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami spat right in Kaiba’s face. “You put that nasty thing near me, and I mother-fucking swear I’ll castrate you.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba wheeled back, away enough so he could wipe his face off with the shoulder of his jacket, but still close enough to hold Yami tight. “Mutou…that was unwise. Stop this nonsense…this reputation you’re trying to protect doesn’t exist.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “My repu—Kaiba Seto, I’m trying to protect me, myself! <\/i>Leave me the hell alone!”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “No.” Kaiba fisted his hands in Yami’s collar, hoisted him up to the very tips of his toes, so his back leant fully against the chain-link fence behind him, pinching into his clothes… “Ever since you came to this school, you’ve acted like nothing but a cock-tease. Nowhere, and I’ve bloody checked<\/i>, nowhere does it say in the dress code you can ‘customize’ the uniform. Look at you—your ass is squeegeed into fucking denim leather. And you get away with it, too, because the teachers all think you’re ‘cute’.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “And then you decide to trounce us all—me, fucking Kaiba Seto—<\/i>at chess one day and suddenly you’re the smartest. You’re the brightest. You’re the most ‘intellectual’ of every guy in the class.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “But let me<\/i> tell you<\/i>, something, Mutou. You’re not. You’re nothing.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami swallowed, blinked, stared into Kaiba’s red-margined eyes.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “I’ve watched you, from day one, struggle through every assignment, every reading, every piece of paper ever handed your way. And every one has returned back with a beautiful fuckin’ great job<\/i> scribbled in the margin. And I know your secret. You aren’t fucking with me anymore.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Kaiba—”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “No!” Kaiba slammed Yami up into the fence, and Yami cried and threw his belly forwards, anything to get away from the crosslinks stabbing into his uniform.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba’s bangs draped into his eyes, but they still pierced like rubbed sapphire, still stared right under Yami’s skin. “You cannot read. Kanji, at the very least. And you’re blowing Katsuya and everyone else who will cheat for you and transcribe the documents, into straight kana, something<\/i>.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “It’s true, isn’t it. Say it.<\/i>”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami gapped stupidly for words. “It isn’t—”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba yanked, <\/i>felled Yami right to the ground on his right shoulder. Yami shouted, cried out because now this fucker had bruised<\/i> him, and Kaiba jumped a foot on Yami’s stomach and swiped out his smartscreen, snarling as he said, “then what the hell is this?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> And Yami’s heart gave the tinniest beat, the littlest shake and shiver, as the screen showed a still of a windowless room, on maybe the third floor of Domino High. And Yami could see himself on the phone, brutally nude.<\/span><\/p><\/a> There comes a time in a duel when Yami knows he’s got the win secure. It’s a thickening inside his chest, a solidarity spreading shoulder to shoulder, when the duel is no longer an even volley between players. His opponent is making hasty moves, or making his moves draw-by-draw, executing quick plays instead of chains. Yami can count the turns left on his hand, he can grasp the end in the foreground, the familiar taste of victory his to enjoy again. The harder fought the battle, the greater the reward coming out on top really is. It’s why he enjoys worthy adversaries who can match his moves par-for-par.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> But with Kaiba, the win always comes with mixed emotions. Kaiba puts his everything into their duels—his anger, his hate, his passion, his fury. It lacks the coolness Yami’s used to seeing in the classroom, when Kaiba barely acknowledges Yugi or his friends or even the teacher, who no longer bothers to call on him to participate in class. His attitude screams prickly<\/i>, a young man sitting in the back with a book in his face, detesting interaction.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> But in these rare duels they share, Kaiba comes alive in his ire, staring Yami down as they spar with their words like spears, their moves like blades, until they’re both left bruised and bleeding on the inside, with everything on the line between them. A loss is deadly, a win only a small victory of a greater war. At the turning point, Yami isn’t pleased to know he’ll win over Kaiba—it pains him, because he sees so clearly what Kaiba loses past the ante, or what Kaiba will pull to prevent the end at all costs. His life means nothing to him when Mokuba’s is on the line—past all the anger and the hate, there’s desperation in Kaiba’s eyes born not out of vanity, but of an instinct of the core; that if Kaiba can win, he can protect those he cares for, body, mind, and soul.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami’s reasons for dueling are selfish in comparison; he’s dueling now to get his own memories back, because that’s the only path he knows how to follow. Is it right for him to so callously dash Kaiba’s way, when his is the more noble and true than Yami’s own?<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Or does fate wish Kaiba to lose, to foster more and more of that same hate he bolsters now? It kisses the edges of their duel, when Kaiba thinks he has the edge. How his laugh goes sharp at the end, sadistic, because that’s all Kaiba’s ever been given on the road that’s led them here. He knows no path except that towards the future.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Maybe Yami can change that, though. Maybe this new loss he deals will lend itself to different paths, of reflection and healing. Maybe this could be Kaiba’s turning point as well.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Maybe they both can get something out of a win.<\/span><\/p><\/a> His office is filled with bare corners and wide open space. All gone, the lounge chairs and tea table and rugs and paintings and bookshelves and now, even Kaiba’s desk is being picked up by two burly men in overalls, as they shuffle the empty desk out his office door. Kaiba watches them go, blinks, and bends down as something on the ground catches the light.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> A gaudy gold bracelet, dusty, dead—Kaiba runs his fingers around the inside. Glassy, familiar…<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba smooths his tie down suddenly, stabbing the point. This was…<\/i><\/span><\/p> <\/p> His mouth tastes like rubber. He’d finally forgotten, or at the least, he no longer ran the tips of his own fingers up his chest at night, and remembered the small, agile fingers that licked at every muscle and ghosted every hair, the lips that pulled into the rare smile. How Kaiba would thumb his fingers into the ankles, the calves, the knees of the adversary who so troubled him, who tormented him in his sleep, who came and went like a coiled spring; one moment, squeezing his thighs around Kaiba’s waist and curling his fingers into Kaiba’s neck, an hour later, leaving cold sheets and an odd sock behind.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> That last month, they’d had so much sex. Kaiba hadn’t known—couldn’t have known—because the spirit inside Yugi’s puzzle was contemplative and secretive, didn’t say a word as Kaiba rutted in and out his backside, left a hand-sized bruise on his right thigh, tunneled his fist around Yami’s cock as he arched his back, cat-like, spewing no nonsense from those pink lips. Kaiba had lulled himself into thinking Yami real and solid and somewhat of a reoccurrence in his life, when they’d had sex for the last time on Kaiba’s desk at the end of February.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami had worn a dozen thin bracelets on a bare arm, and they’d made a messy clattering noise, banging up Kaiba’s desk like a mallet and leaving the surface with shallow potholes.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> And after it was over, Yami, face flushed and the vein running down his forehead sticking out like a roadmap, had mentioned flying to Egypt with Ishizu. And Kaiba, foolish and ignorant and oblivious—he’d zipped up his pants and said he had to work, and besides, it would be cold that time of year.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami had sat up, pants twisted around his bony knees, puzzle looped behind his neck like a noose. That was the last Kaiba remembered of him, disheveled and covered in sweat and gold bracelets, as he too straightened his clothes and said goodbye.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> This bracelet must’ve rolled under his desk at some point. Kaiba debates what to do with it, what to do with the cloudy lump that’s stuck at the top of his throat now. It’s cheap jewelry only Yami would’ve worn, and it probably shouldn’t have a place in his new office.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> His hand trembles as he reaches for the wastebasket—and hovers when he realizes that’s already gone too.<\/span><\/p><\/a> It’s hot outside, it’s hot inside, it’s hot everywhere—in Kaiba’s sleeves, inside his school jacket, under his skin <\/i>as he pushes Yami against his kitchen sink, feeling like a leech as he sucks Yami’s mouth dry of any words of argue. He doesn’t want to talk—just look, touch, <\/i>feel. Words are complicated; words are careless and slow things down.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami’s pushing against his chest, digging his fingers into the cotton shirt pulled taut over his chest. He wishes Yami would pinch his nipples, orbit his fingers around them like satellites, but no—that’s not what Yami does. Yami wants to talk, wants to take things slow, look him in the eyes like he’s a used car needing scrutiny—all the things Kaiba hates, hates because he’s not a festering wound, he doesn’t need coddling, he just wants a moment to let his mind go completely blank <\/i>and do what he wants, when he wants to.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami’s hands snake up to his earlobes—Kaiba smiles into the kiss, thinking, hoping <\/i>Yami’s finally got the right idea—until he feels a sharp yank on both of them, like somebody pulling a dog’s tail. He breaks the kiss and Yami’s breathes against his neck, winded.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Kaiba…wait…wait a sec….” Yami’s clutching the sink behind him, fingers tensed against the ledge, sweat sticking like taffy to his collarbone.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba doesn’t wait; he’s not a man built to stay still. He bends down and grabs Yami by the back of his knees—seats him square on the sink ledge so his backside straddles either side of the sink divider. Yami yelps, and Kaiba takes that as his cue to close the distance again, this time pressing his hips close, close enough to feel between Yami’s legs. Feel the warmth Yami’s trying to hide.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> The window over the sink is open, curtains still from no air flow. How easy it would be for Kaiba to reach around and tie Yami’s hands backwards so he could explore his skin to his desire. But Yami hates being restrained—this much force has already upset him, agitated him because Kaiba’s got size advantage, and Kaiba should really slow down and breathe for a second…<\/span><\/p> <\/p> But Yami—his face, his body, the taste of his tongue fighting his—all of it strikes a nerve, repeatedly, over and back again. His common etiquette is overruled when Yami’s around, overwhelmed by an unsurpressable urge to exhaust his opponent in all things, fight or otherwise. Why hasn’t Yami figured this out? Why does he so foolishly enter Kaiba’s domain, again and again? The answer is here somewhere, somewhere on Yami’s salty skin, if he can only find it for himself—<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Outside, one of the KC limos pulls up to the driveway, and Kaiba hears Mokuba bounding out before it has even had a chance to park. He lets go of Yami, who hazardly straightens his clothes, and leaves for the front door. The answer will have to wait another day.<\/span><\/p><\/a> It was hard, damn<\/i> hard being Seto Kaiba’s friend sometimes. Hard because it meant he was sometimes needed (press conferences, promo shoots, media circuits) and hard because it meant most of the time he wasn’t (school, work, now).<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami hummed, hummed as he slugged the bottle of alcohol down his throat, the night sky empty of the sounds of crickets he was used to, instead filled with the chatter of the guests on the lawn below. He knew it was bad form to be sitting on Kaiba’s roof, especially when this party was black tie only and he was wearing denim and leather; but right then, he didn’t care if he was spotted by the entire board of Industrial Illusions; he just wanted to be outside, and he couldn’t even have that much.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba was downstairs, working the crowd as he always did, polite and put together like a blow-up doll ready to be spit on. Yami laughed and hugged his knees; actually, that was a lie. Kaiba didn’t take anybody’s crap, least of all the people he didn’t care for emotionally. If the house suddenly caught fire, Kaiba’d grab his briefcase and ditch them on his helicopter out the front door, because really, what were they to him? Kaiba could be absolutely ruthless when he wanted to be.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Would he save Yami, if that were the case? Yami didn’t think so. He turned his music up, though not nearly as loud as he wanted to. If he could, he’d blast it at full volume to drown out all the big wigs below, drown out the throb inside his head. A throb that would go away once he laid down and closed his eyes in Seto Kaiba’s sheets.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami glanced back inside the locked room, just to check and make sure Kaiba himself hadn’t returned yet. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to face him sober, but he wasn’t smashed enough yet to seal the deal. Honestly, he just wanted to stop all the weird feelings building up inside his lungs, feelings that Kaiba himself had made happen only two weeks prior, when he invited him over after hours for a collaborative project only to stick his fingers in Yami’s hair and drag his lips down his cheekbone. It still made Yami burn inside, like he’d done something wrong and sat there, yet here he was now, waiting for him.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> He hadn’t told Yugi or Jounouchi or Anzu or Honda. He didn’t think he could. What would they think, of him acting so intimately with Kaiba. It, it wasn’t right…but then why did his fingers twitch so badly when he thought of it, as he raised his glass to his lips once more? Was something broke inside him?<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami tried to picture Kaiba throwing his rope ladder out to save him from the fire, but the alcohol burned on the way down and made his vision burn as the fire ascended the ropes and brought everything down instead.<\/span><\/p><\/a> They do it on a Saturday morning, after all the late-night Domino drivers have skittered off the road but before the early birds have quite finished their first cup of coffee. The halls in the mansion are dark, curtains pulled over floor-to-ceiling windows as Kaiba reckons it’s best they don’t alert his staff to what they’re up to. <\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba would love to do it in every room of the house, though, starting in the kitchen, where he would paint Yami’s skin with reds and blues, with berries and sugars fit for royalty, that would leave stains for days and nights. On his arms, his legs, his face, his chest—every inch Kaiba’s to color and mark at leisure.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> In the living room, he’d bind Yami’s wrists and press his face flush against the mahogany coffee table and run his finger up his naval, feeling ever muscles twitch and spasm like static along a cable. Yami’s hair would lay in waves around his face, sweaty and red as Kaiba pulled his trousers to his ankles.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> The game room was a favorite illusion of Kaiba’s. Surround by the innocent games that made them rivals, Kaiba would revel in smudging out that last bit of purity he knew by having Yami hook his knees over his shoulders, planes of his back circled in a halo of stray playing cards on his pool table, Yami calling his name, mouth bruised, brow lined with sweat.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Ultimately, though, the affair is less grandiose. They end up going to one of the guest rooms on the first floor, both walking, Kaiba awkwardly holding the door open for Yami to enter, playing with the lube and condom in his pocket. To his credit, Yami keeps his nerves to himself and says very little, only a yes or a no when Kaiba asks him what he wants to do and how he wants to do it. He sits on the bed, crosses both his legs and his arms, and waits for Kaiba to empty his pockets and set the supplies on the night table.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba’s apprehensive about actually touching Yami at first. His face is blank, his back stiff and posture like stone. But Yami doesn't flinch when the bed sags next to him, when Kaiba sits himself only an inch away, or when Kaiba slips his hand behind Yami’s ear and rubs the skin there, tender and smooth like skin touched only to be washed and dried. Yami’s gaze remains trained on Kaiba’s nose, trained even when Kaiba presses their lips together and feels his warm breath, until Kaiba dares to press further, into Yami’s mouth. Yami closes his eyes at that and lets his arms rest at his sides.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> When they break, Kaiba slips off his jacket and Yami pulls his shirt overhead and lays down. He looks calm, relaxed, even though Kaiba can see his heart beating like a strobe light in his neck, crazy and staccato. It is quiet. Kaiba shifts and the bed springs bounce, and Kaiba straddles his legs over Yami’s knees and kisses his neck, where the beating is the strongest, the place he is most alive.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> There is no fighting, no dramatics. Nothing at all like he’s envisioned. How easy Yami accepts the circumstances, managing to eventually rest his hands on Kaiba’s shoulders as Kaiba undoes their belts and pulls Yami’s trousers down, never once demanding they switch places or stop altogether. Kaiba thinks he’s disappointed, but then Yami makes a face like he’s going to sneeze when Kaiba runs his hand over his cock and the thought is banished, that one look worth everything to Kaiba, because it’s now his and his alone.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Perhaps Yami’s more rational than Kaiba cares to acknowledge, rational in the logistics and the end they’re trying to meet. Maybe he remembers more than he’s letting on about his past and this kind of crazy affair is second nature to him, but then, why is he so complacent to receive instead of lead? The thought circles violently in Kaiba’s head, making his jaw tense as he wonders what else Yami keeps to himself.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> It’s exactly six a.m. when Kaiba sticks a finger up Yami’s ass, the chiming of the grandfather clock drowning out the noise Yami makes. It’s impossible to look dignified in such a position, but Yami almost succeeds by keeping his eyebrows level with the tips of his ears. Only the small frown gives away how painful the penetration is, how awkward his backside must feel, as Kaiba feels around and tries not to embarrass himself. He didn’t warm the lube up, and when he adds more and sticks a second finger in, Yami’s toes curl sharply, as though he’s been stung. Still he stays, maintaining the silence morning brings.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> It feels like it takes painfully long to get Yami ready, made longer still by their shared silence. Kaiba’s used to shouting when he’s in Yami’s presence, and to go so quiet is strange and uncomfortable. But what would he say? There’s nothing to say, not when he’s in the middle of fingering Yami’s ass.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> In his haste to more forward, Kaiba definitely breaks the condom, and Yami definitely sees him do it. He rips straight through the package, tearing part of the latex in the process. There’s a second condom on the other side, but Yami sits up and takes the entire package from him and calmly opens the second condom before he can break it too.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “…here.” Yami holds the condom out to him, and Kaiba takes it and tries to stifle how self-conscious he feels as Yami stares at his penis and watches him roll the condom on. He gives himself a quick stroke to make certain there’s no air, and Yami nods and lays back down.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba thinks he should say something, something profound or meaningful or even just plain cheesy as he lines himself up, like they do in the gay porn films where the pretend male teacher bends over the pretend male student and says how much extra credit he’s getting, or how truly hard-up he is for his underage student as he thrusts inside. But Yami just stares up at him blankly, and nothing really happens in the critical thinking department as all the blood seems to just go straight down, as Kaiba truly understands Yami’s nakedness<\/i> for the first time, laid out on the sheets before him. The flat muscles of his torso, the small pink nipples pinched up from the morning air, the sweat that’s started to gather around his clavicles. How his teeth and eyes are the same shade of white.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “…” Kaiba can’t think of anything to say. Embarrassed, he pushes inside a bit quickly to squash the inadequacy of the moment.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami’s rectum immediately tenses, and Kaiba knows he’s done something wrong by the pained look that crosses Yami’s face—eyes squinted close, teeth biting his cheek as his fingers tighten on Kaiba’s shoulders, back arching off the bed. Kaiba immediately tries to pull out—but Yami digs his fingers in further to hold him in place, breathing heavily through his nose.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Just, ah…wait a sec. It’s not bad,” he says.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba doesn’t believe him, not even for a hot second. He can feel Yami’s rectum spasming, like it’s trying to squeeze him out by force even as Yami tries to calm his breathing and adjust. Kaiba’s not halfway in yet, and the hole is achingly tight, and Kaiba’s having trouble thinking from how good it feels, even as he knows it’s his very dick hurting Yami.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Carefully, Kaiba leans forward and presses his mouth to Yami’s neck again, kissing the skin, feeling the pulse that’s now jumping erratically, thinking again he should pull out and end this crazy pursuit. This was foolish. They weren’t lovers—they were hardly friends. All that existed between them was a thin line of respect and a few ass-grabs on occasion, because being a teenager was confusing, because Kaiba didn’t know why he wanted Yami’s ass and not some girl’s. Or why Yami let him, encouraged him between duels, in the corridors of the Battle City blimp and the hallways of school, why he welcomed this invasion when it led to this path of pain he was now under. Why he welcomed it still.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba feels Yami swallow, and say, quietly, “I think I’m ok now. You can keep going, if you want.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Is that what you want?” Kaiba asks, tilting his hips forward just the slightest bit to gauge Yami’s reaction. Yami’s fingers dig into his shoulders at the movement, and his abdomen tightens like it’s preparing for a scalpel up his backside. But Yami nods, vigorously, like he’s desperate for them to continue, still biting his cheek.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Yes…I…it’s okay now. Keep going. Please.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> The sun is just starting to rise, forming a glowing hazel patch in the corner of one of Kaiba’s dark curtains. The opportunity to go uninterrupted will pass soon if they don’t continue, and Kaiba’s house will be busy with staff trying to find him. Kaiba nods and pushes in—pushes until he feels Yami’s backside touch the top of his balls. To Yami’s credit, he manages to keep from breaking the skin on Kaiba’s shoulders with his nails, choosing instead to channel the pain down through his feet, arching them like spears into the mattress. He’s humming lowly in his throat, like he’s trying to numb out the pain with song.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “…is it okay?” Kaiba finally asks.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “‘Yeah, it’s…it’s alright. Kinda weird. Does it uh, feel good…inside me?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba feels his face go red. “Just peachy.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “That’s good, right?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Something wrong is happening inside Kaiba’s chest. He’s talking to Yami like a sane person. For the first time, they’re making eye contact, at a moment that Kaiba feared would be awkward as hell for the both of them. But Yami doesn’t look awkward; a bit uncomfortable, yes, but the sheen of sweat on his skin has relaxed his harsh features, smoothed them out to make him seem near youthful in his appearance, instead of proper and pharaoh-like as usual. His knees are hugging Kaiba’s sides with near affection, like he wants to keep Kaiba there forever, and it’s unraveling Kaiba, because these feelings are completely alien to him.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “I’m going to move now,” Kaiba says, rising up to his knees as he hangs on to the underside of Yami’s knees.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami wraps his arms around Kaiba’s neck, pulling himself close enough to kiss Kaiba’s neck in return. “I’m ready.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> He makes little thrusts at first, finding his rhythm and taking care to remember every detail of the moment. Would they do this again? Would Yami want to, again, with him? Kaiba knows he should be relieved to be getting this out of his system, so he can go back to focusing on work and not thinking about the color of Yami’s pubic hair (it’s black—just black. No funky-ass colors) or the exact shade of violet in his eyes. But he’s not relieved; panic is starting to spread inside his lungs, as he thinks in five, ten minutes, they’ll be done, and this is it<\/i>, he’ll never see Yami like this again…<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami is radiant, is glowing as his grunts and moans mingle with Kaiba’s own. Yami hooks the crook of his elbow behind Kaiba’s neck, pulling himself heart-to-heart with Kaiba, and hisses his first name in Kaiba’s ear, Seto, Seto more…Faster…<\/i><\/span><\/p> <\/p> And Kaiba thinks something inside of him is breaking, the very center of his heart as he kisses Yami on the lips, closes his eyes even as his head screams to keep them open, to remember everything about this moment.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami’s voice goes wisp-thin as he says, “I…mhh…ah,<\/i>” and Kaiba feels<\/i> him seize up, feels his orgasm wreck all the way up his chest, his neck, his lidded eyes. Kaiba’s whole mouth goes dry and he shouts something, nothing, everything—he stills, hugging his arms around Yami’s back as he pants against Yami’s nose, sweat-slicked and alive. Time is suspended like this, holding Yami, like this.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami slowly cards a hand up Kaiba’s neck, through his damp hair, to the center of Kaiba’s forehead, to the top of Kaiba’s lips. His small hand wraps around all of Kaiba’s mouth, and then he pulls his hand to his own mouth, and kisses it, eyes still closed. “What was that for?” Kaiba asks.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “One for later…I’m saving one kiss for later. When life gets messy, and you hole up in your office. I’ll still have this one, for then.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba’s chest swims, and he closes the space between their mouths, to take a dozen kisses, because one would never be enough for him. The clock chimes somewhere in the house; but in the quiet guest room, time goes unmeasured. <\/span><\/p><\/a> Seto Kaiba lives in the world of the real—of the imagined being put to cold science and slick production values, of the monies changing hands to see business mergers and capital gains, as stocks rise and shareholders clasp his hands at dinner parties, their single-eye spectacles reflecting his own face, stoic and polite. The glass chutes, the high ceilings, the marble floors, his own satin suit—all hug his neck and name, all cling to his chest long after the last guest leaves, when the dining hall has been left littered with confetti and spilled wine on floors, when the banisters no longer shine with cleaner and reflect the places people leave their fingerprints, on his things, his home.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> The empty dining hall hugs him further still when the waiters leave, when he orders the maids to drop their rags and mops and go, returning not before eight the following day, paid leave of course. None of them give thanks and flee.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba waits—he waits and waits and waits. He waits for the noise in his head to clear, for the room to reach a silence loud enough to oppress, to overwhelm him in ways a large crowd cannot. He waits long enough to hear his heart beating in his neck, and then Kaiba removes his dress shoes and tie and goes upstairs.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> His bedroom is the last in the hallway. All the doors remain locked save for his, because he pulls the key out and unlocks it and enters.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Inside, a half-eaten cheese pizza box is sitting pretty on what used to be clean sheets. There’s tomato sauce wiped on the comforter, as though the eater was in a quick fix for a napkin, and little mozzarella topping has escaped onto the actual bedding. The lights are off but both nightstand lamps are on, and from the open window, Kaiba hears low music playing.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Yami?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> The music cuts off, and Yami, holding an open bottle of beer in one hand, turns and cocks his head in. “Hm?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “What are you doing on the roof?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Yami takes a swig of beer and throws his head back, nodding as he turns his music back up. “Your friends have nice cars. Fast, too.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba approaches and undoes his collar, and it’s a bad sign when Yami’s pupils fixate on his collarbone, like they can’t quite break contact even as he sways front to back and blinks quickly. “Have you been up here on the window, all evening?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “Mostly.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “And did you raid my mini-bar in the process?”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> “…mostly.”<\/span><\/p> <\/p> Kaiba presses his chest to Yami’s back, his fingers coming to grip Yami’s elbows, and he feels Yami’s heartbeat, fluttering and stuttering and nervous, like a butterfly with a caught wing in a wind tunnel. Without much effort, Kaiba pulls Yami off the windowsill and inside where it’s ten degrees warmer, where the wealthy stockbrokers and investors might not accidentally see the teenager sitting on his roof in cut-offs drinking beer and listening to Steve Miller all by himself. Not that any were left on the premise to begin with.<\/span><\/p> <\/p> He sits them down on the bed, beside the pizza box and pizza stains. Yami’s hair tickles his chin, but he holds on until they match breathing and he’s sure Yami hasn’t drunk himself sick. Yami stays still, his sweat sticking to Kaiba’s sleeves, kissing Kaiba’s neck quietly. Kaiba closes his eyes and imagines
"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:drummerdancer:35584","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/35584.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=35584"}}],"title":"FIC: Match Point","published":"2016-01-22T19:51:06Z","updated":"2016-01-22T19:54:30Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"ygo pair: prideshipping"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"drabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"yaoi"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fandom: yugioh"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge: ygodrabble"}}],"content":"Title: Match Point
Author: <\/a>drummerdancer<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Characters\/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi)
Word Count: 496
Warnings: None
Summary: Because winning isn't always easy.
Double posted @ ![](\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/community.png?v=556&v=916.1\")
<\/a>ygodrabble<\/b><\/a><\/span>
"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:drummerdancer:35402","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/35402.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=35402"}}],"title":"FIC: A Long Time Past","published":"2016-01-15T21:06:44Z","updated":"2016-01-15T21:06:44Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"ygo pair: prideshipping"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"drabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge: slashthedrabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"yaoi"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fandom: yugioh"}}],"content":"Title: A Long Time Past
Author: <\/a>drummerdancer<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Characters\/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi)
Word Count: 500
Warnings: Brief sexual excounter
Summary: Kaiba's moving to a new office when he stumbles upon something forgotten.
Double posted @ <\/a>slashthedrabble<\/b><\/a><\/span>
"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:drummerdancer:35104","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/35104.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=35104"}}],"title":"FIC: Answers","published":"2016-01-08T19:04:53Z","updated":"2016-01-08T19:04:53Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"ygo pair: prideshipping"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"drabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge: slashthedrabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"yaoi"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fandom: yugioh"}}],"content":"Title: Answers
Author: <\/a>drummerdancer<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Characters\/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi)
Word Count: 500
Warnings: Kissing, touching
Summary: The heat strikes some nerves with Kaiba.
Double posted @ <\/a>slashthedrabble<\/b><\/a><\/span>
"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:drummerdancer:34824","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/34824.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=34824"}}],"title":"FIC: Save Me From Fire","published":"2016-01-01T18:26:11Z","updated":"2016-01-08T20:10:55Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"ygo pair: prideshipping"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"drabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge: slashthedrabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"yaoi"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fandom: yugioh"}}],"content":"Title: Save Me From Fire
Author: <\/a>drummerdancer<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Characters\/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi)
Word Count: 500
Warnings: Alcohol
Summary: Yami waits on the rooftop for Kaiba. Companion piece to Rockin' Me Bab-ey<\/a>.
Double posted @ <\/a>slashthedrabble<\/b><\/a><\/span>
"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:drummerdancer:34576","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/34576.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=34576"}}],"title":"FIC: In the AM","published":"2015-12-25T04:50:22Z","updated":"2016-01-08T20:11:20Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"ygo pair: prideshipping"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"yaoi"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fandom: yugioh"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"oneshot"}}],"content":"Title: In the AM
Author: <\/a>drummerdancer<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Characters\/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi)
Word Count: 2000+
Warnings: First time sex (more of a highlight, less of a warning, ne? :) )
Summary: Kaiba expects their first time to be loud and possibly violent, but it's unexpectedly a quiet affair.
"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:drummerdancer:34542","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/34542.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/drummerdancer.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=34542"}}],"title":"FIC: Rockin' Me Bab-ey","published":"2015-12-23T03:41:48Z","updated":"2016-01-08T20:11:44Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"ygo pair: prideshipping"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"drabble"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"yaoi"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fandom: yugioh"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge: ygodrabble"}}],"content":"Title: Rockin' Me Bab-ey
Author: <\/a>drummerdancer<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Characters\/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi)
Word Count: 600
Warnings: None
Summary: Kaiba meanders with the wealthy while Yami waits on the rooftop.