Chapter 6Mature

Yami awoke in the harsh daylight, the room painfully bright despite the fact that there was only a single window. Immediately his limbs tingled—his arms were still behind his head, Mokuba sleeping on the right side of his chest. It figured that the runt would still be asleep. He could see the mound of bushy, black hair rising and falling with each breath. Mokuba was drooling a bit onto his chest and Yami shifted a bit, testing his ability to move without waking the other man. He managed to move a few inches without problem, and sighed, flexing his arms to try to get that blood flowing. His legs weren't quite asleep, but they did feel kind of awkward. He wasn't used to sleeping in that position at all.

With a sigh he realized that Mokuba was attractive even when he was sleeping, the shape of his lithe body reminding him of the night before. It didn't take much more than that to get Yami aroused—it was first thing in the morning, after all—and without thinking he reached beneath the comforter to touch himself. Perhaps he should rape the little bastard while he was asleep, he thought. It was no good having thoughts like that, though. He was sure that Mokuba would be awake soon, anyway. He managed to shake off the brunette atop him, Mokuba clutching a pillow and turning over. Yeah, he would be awake soon, but Yami wasn't one to beg or ask. He made for the door, pausing to glance back at Mokuba for a bit of inspiration.

Ten minutes later, when Mokuba did indeed get up, as Yami had predicted, he was in for quite a sight. Yami was seated on one of the leather covered stools that stood at the island in the kitchen. Yami's back was to it, legs spread wide, panting just a little as he pumped himself in quick motions with his hand. Mokuba looked stupefied for a moment; the brunette, Yami vaguely noticed, was wearing a black, fluffy robe which was now hanging open to reveal that he was completely naked underneath. Yami decided to play it up, moaning softly, his hips jerking into his own hands, back arching slightly. Seeing Mokuba there only gave him more fuel for the fire, anyway. His eyes rolled back, and Yami spread his legs a bit wider and leaned back against the countertop on the island.

Mokuba seemed to have regained his bearings. "Really, Yami? You're in my kitchen," he said cynically. Yami kept his eyes on the younger Kaiba, hips pushing the stool forward to allow him an angle to lean further back, almost until his head was on the counter. Mokuba rolled his eyes. "I didn't let you fuck me last night, so now you resort to this? You big baby." He took a couple steps toward Yami, poising his elbow on the refrigerator to his left. "Poor, starved puppy," Mokuba mocked, his eyes moving to settle on Yami's chest, his scars and scratches painfully obvious in the light of day. Yami didn't think that they were so bad—he had asked for them, after all. "...wounded puppy," Mokuba added, his tone changing. Yami ignored him, continuing his actions—precum was dripping from him already, falling on his fingers. He couldn't care less for Mokuba's judgment calls. He was going to get himself off one way or another. If he made Mokuba angry, that was just a plus. "You could have woken me up, you know," Mokuba said, shedding his robe and taking a few more steps. Yami still said nothing, swearing and cursing under his breath. It wasn't until Mokuba was close enough to grab Yami's wrists—both of them—that the panting blond looked him in the eye with a worn but pleasured expression, and acknowledged his presence. "Now that I've gotten your attention," Mokuba said, bringing his voice down to a whisper, "How do you want to do this?" Despite being aware, Yami's mind was a bit hazy, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Mokuba had given in. The brunette absently twirled a crimson strand of Yami's hair in his fingers. "Think I like your hair down," he said quietly, almost to himself. He pressed his lips to Yami's cheek, and... was that a blush that Yami spied on his face?

"You're a romantic," Yami said. "I hate romantics."

"That's because you like things so rough," the younger retorted, his voice still using that soft tone. His hands both pressed on Yami's chest, tracing over the various scratches—especially the bite mark by his collarbone. "I've never done something this bad to a person before," he admitted. He looked Yami in the eye. "You can't treat me like that, Yami."

"...noted," Yami answered, beginning to catch his breath.

"There's nothing wrong with being a romantic," Mokuba declared, still staring at Yami's eyes. The Pharaoh felt a hand grasping his erection, squeezing a bit here and there; a thumb flicked over the head and Yami's hips twitched.

"So what am I supposed to do? Kiss you and call you beautiful?"

"No. I already know I'm gorgeous, thank you. You said so last night. Besides, I said I was a romantic, not a fucking pussy. Just don't kill me. Simple, right?"

"Just because I like pain doesn't mean I assume everyone else does," Yami quipped, sighing happily at Mokuba's continued touching.

Mokuba shrugged. "Well, Yami, you're an asshole. I have to make sure."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Yami couldn't argue with that in all honesty, so he said nothing. "But I like assholes. I'm an asshole. That's why we get along so well."

"An asshole who's a romantic?"

"Yep. What are you going to do about it?"

(scene shift)

"Fuck, Yami! Didn't I tell you not to fucking kill me?" Mokuba, his voice edged with discontent. Right after that, however, he moaned loudly. "Oh, shit..." He was half sitting on the stool, but mostly on Yami's lap, legs spread open and over the countertop as Yami took him. The metal stood scraped against the floor with each thrust but neither paid it any mind. The position had been Yami's idea, although he'd thought of it spur of the moment—seen it in a few places and wanted to try it out. It had been awkward at first—Mokuba hadn't been comfortable just on the edge of the stool with Yami standing—but now it was much better. Mokuba's backside was almost touching his hips, and Yami had to try hard not to spasm just going in; he was just so fucking deep it was ridiculous. Yami was pulling on Mokuba's hair now, the brunette's back solidly against his chest. Yami was kissing up Mokuba's jaw line, trying to be as romantic as he could allow himself to be. Mokuba was whimpering and shivering now, completely unlike the night before. He was such a bottom, and Yami smiled wickedly at the thought. Mokuba gripped at the countertop with both hands, pushing his hips back on Yami as best as he could and the scraping of metal on ceramic tiles became the backdrop for their intercourse. Yami grunted, trying his best not to be too loud; he wanted to focus on keeping Mokuba's weight on his hips. The brunette's ass was pulling him in, he'd swear to it under oath. He couldn't help panting and their cacophony of whispers echoed around them like the hissing of a crowd. Mokuba's head snapped back suddenly, bucking harder than before. "There..." his voice had an edge to it. "There...oh yes..." Yami saw him gripping the counter harder; his fingers had been slipping, and the brunette's hips began moving frantically now that Yami was in the right spot.

Yami's kisses made their way up to Mokuba's ear, where he couldn't resist nipping a bit roughly with his teeth before whispering, "I love it when you can't control yourself..." licking and sucking on the lobe, his chest heaved, muscles tightening; he couldn't hold himself in much longer. Pushing his hips up as far as they could go, Yami moaned loudly.

Mokuba's back arched, his head and eyes both rolling back. "You're gonna fucking kill me," Mokuba whimpered, voice fragile. "You're gonna—fuck—you can't..." and from then on his cries were unintelligible.

"Shit-shit-shit," Yami hissed, hands reaching around Mokuba's waist and wrapping them around the brunette's erection just as he came, hands catching the sticky solution. "Oh shit," Yami said again and he orgasmed himself from the tightness alone, teeth clenched. His knees shook, and it took every ounce of adrenaline in him hold up the body above him; Mokuba had fallen limp and the stool only offset a small amount of the weight. "Oh god," Yami moaned as a final shudder coursed through him unexpectedly, and he grunted at his own physical exhaustion. "Fuck." He could feel Mokuba quivering against him with every breath he took. Yami pulled the brunette's legs from the counter so that he was in a sitting position. Mokuba moaned softly as he was being moved, and all but collapsed onto the counter, arms outstretched in front of him. After letting him sit like that for a moment, Yami nudged him. "Come on," he said, reaching down to the grab Mokuba's previously abandoned robe.

"...the kitchen," Mokuba breathed.

"We'll clean it later," Yami said. He was going to faint if he didn't get to a bed soon; he was quite lightheaded already. He wearily made his way to the sink, trying to clean his hand a bit with some water.

That bed, when they reached it, was the most comfortable thing that Yami had ever slept in at any point of his life. "Fuck," Mokuba groaned into his pillow, after some time spent resting. "...I was—there was shit I was supposed to be doing today."

Yami knew the feeling. "What time is it?"

"I dunno. Where's my phone?"

"You threw it last night," Yami recalled. "You said you had cigarettes?"

"Pants...pocket. They're on the floor somewhere. Matches are on the side table; the ashtray, too."


"My phone while you're up," Mokuba added. Yami mustered the strength to retrieve Mokuba's phone—he'd thrown it into the closet across the room—and felt even better about things when there was that sweet nicotine in his lungs. "Shit," he remembered suddenly, "Yuugi's gotta be wondering where I am."

"Would he call?" Mokuba asked, turning to face Yami rather than lay face down.

"Maybe," Yami answered, slipping the bed again to get his own phone. "My phone's on vibrate—"

"Shit," Mokuba cut him off. "The battery died. I wonder how many times nii-sama fucking called."

Yami chuckled, exhaling smoke. "Guess."

"More than ten—fifteen, probably." The room fell back into silence while Yami checked his own phone and Mokuba waited for his to turn on. The brunette was toying with his own hair again, and Yami watched lazily while glancing intermittently at his own. No calls.

"'S ten-thirty," Yami mumbled.

"Liar." Mokuba looked surprised. "Damn, it's earlier than I thought."

"Lotta shit to do?" A silence followed after that question, and Yami caught Mokuba's eyes as they both turned to look at each other. Mokuba stared at Yami long enough for the partial blond to quizzically raise his eyebrows.

"Uh...yeah," Mokuba answered a bit awkwardly, as though he'd been caught off guard. "Meeting with Seto at one. I'll be free whenever that's over. His seminars are like five hours, I swear. I have a few errands to run after that, but they can wait. Just shopping." Yami said nothing, having a few hours before needing to show up at the shop himself. Mokuba's eyes suddenly turned to the size of dinner plates. "Seventeen missed calls," he said, "and six text messages." His fingers moved deftly, and Yami assumed that he was scrolling through them. "Yeah, he's pretty pissed. I think he might be coming over."

Yam couldn't help laughing at that notion. "Why is he always riding your ass?" He ground out the cigarette and put it in the ashtray to his left, even though he hadn't finished it.

"I'm his brother. He wants to keep my head on straight."

"Up your ass, maybe."

"Yep." Mokuba agreed. "I'm calling him before he has a heart attack. His last call was twenty minutes ago."

"Be sure to tell him you were fucking," Yami suggested with another laugh.

"Hush," Mokuba said softly, and Yami could hear the line ringing. The brunette held the phone out in front of him. At first, Yami thought it was on speaker phone, until—

"Mokuba what the hell is wrong with you? I've been sitting out here for a half-hour!" Yami reached over to the side table and re-lit his cig. Mokuba sighed, saying nothing but silently motioning for Yami to hand him the cigarette. "Mokuba!" Seto's voice was as assholish as ever.

Mokuba inhaled so deeply on the cigarette that Yami thought he was going to choke. He took his time blowing it out before handing it back to Yami. It was pretty much gone, and the blond ground it before fishing out a new one. "Yes, Seto?" Mokuba answered finally.

"What the hell happened?" Yami could clearly hear Seto, even without the speakerphone. "Let me in! I'm waiting."

"I'm meeting with you at one, Seto," Mokuba began to massage his temples. Yami offered him the new cig, but Mokuba shook his head. "I'm not on call for KaibaCorp; I work when I'm supposed to be working. I have a private life, nii-sama."

"Just let me in so we can talk in person. You know I hate talking over the phone."

"No," Mokuba said, stretching. "I'm indecent and I have company. That's about as polite as its going to get. I'm going, Seto. See you at one. "Mokuba hung up and sighed.

Yami hazarded a guess. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Mokuba knew what he meant. "Oh, he knows; doesn't like it though. But he hates most of what I do. Too liberal."

"That's bullshit."

"Who are you telling? Come on," Mokuba said, getting out of bed. "I'll take you home. You deserve it for being such a good fuck." Mokuba winked, hair brushing over his eyes, and while it was stereotypical Yami thought that it was pretty attractive.

"Alright," Yami said with a smirk.

"Shower?" Mokuba suggested.


They ended up having sex in the shower, too, something that Yami hadn't planned on but he wasn't about to turn down, especially not after their last two encounters. The brunette's tender kisses had actually managed to rouse him somewhat, and Mokuba's hair was slicker in the shower than ever and Yami made sure he pulled on it as hard as Mokuba would allow. Jesus, he loved Mokuba's hair. It would be the end of him. It was refreshing, fucking under the cool water, and neither felt sleepy after. It was eleven-thirty when they finally got dressed and out of the house, because Yami had to style his hair and Mokuba had to sanitize the kitchen.

"Fuck," Mokuba said as they were heading to the front door.

"Forget something?" Yami guessed. He wanted another cigarette, all of a sudden, and he fished out one from his back pocket.

"Rarely, huh?" Mokuba replied, and then added, "Seto's fucking staked outside of my house."

Yami said nothing about the smoking, but he did laugh. "Get your ass out there and tell him to get the fuck off your legal property before you beat the living shit out of him." From another pocket Yami removed a box of matches, which he held up to Mokuba. "I lifted these; just wanted you to know."

Mokuba waved the confession away. "Whatever."

Yami's expression became serious. "Look, Mokuba, you're a dick to me, and you're a dick to other people. I don't see how that shit doesn't extend to your brother. You walk on eggshells around him," he declared, taking a drag. When he'd finished, he continued, "like a little bitch." He caught Mokuba's eye. "I don't like bitches. At all. That shit's not attractive." He held Mokuba's gaze for a few moments until the younger boy looked away, and when he did so he went ahead and opened the door. Yami sighed, using the cigarette to calm himself—his annoyance, mostly—as he followed Mokuba down the steps to LaShonda. He was beginning to like the name, actually. Kaiba, to Mokuba's credit, was indeed watching. His limo was there, all emblazoned with the KaibaCorp Emblem, right in front of Mokuba's bike. Kaiba was such a bitch. The man immediately removed himself from the limo when he saw Mokuba take the cig from Yami's hands. There was about three-quarters of it left; more than enough for this situation, Yami thought.

"Thank you," Mokuba, taking a deep breath. The silence, of course, lasted only a moment. Seto Kaiba looked like he was going to shit bricks. Yami wanted to smile or laugh, but this situation would have only gotten worse. He would have ended up punching Kaiba in the fucking throat.

"So you're a smoker now, Mokuba?" Kaiba said once he got his bearings.

"Rarely," was Mokuba's reply, "but yes." There was still a bit left before the filter before he ground it out on the lamp post, and he went that entire time without saying a word to Kaiba.

"And you," Kaiba said as Yami hopped on LaShonda, slipping into the same comfortable position he had been in yesterday. "You're my brother's 'company'?"

Mokuba was tying up his hair, as he'd left his helmet in the house. "Don't speak to people who don't concern you, Seto," he said. "None of your business."

"Hey," Yami said, at the same time that Mokuba finished, looking Kaiba directly in the eyes. "Fuck you." The partial blond clenched his fists, ready to jump off of Mokuba's bike at a moment's notice. He wasn't in the mood for this childish shit.

"Indeed," Kaiba spat, his disapproving gaze shifting back to Mokuba. "You realize we're going to have a talk about this."

"No, we're not," Mokuba said approaching his bike and swinging his right leg over it. "Seto, don't ever stalk my house like this again; its embarrassing. There's another family that lives here, you know." He started the engine and LaShonda purred smoothly. Yami wanted to tell Kaiba so badly, "I fucked your brother and it was fucking great," but it seemed like it wasn't meant to be. No opportunity. So he smiled in Kaiba's direction instead as they pulled off.

The ride was too windy for either of them to say anything about the encounter, and Yami didn't think he wanted to. Mokuba did have to go see his brother at some point, and he doubted that Kaiba was going to keep everything on a business-related tone. It was maybe two minutes to noon when the two of them walked into a store. Yuugi was already sitting at the front counter, so Yami guessed that Gramps was either not feeling well, taking a nap, or both. "Hey Yami!" Yuugi exclaimed, excited as usual. It made Yami smile as he returned his hikari's greeting. "And Mokuba," he continued, leaving the counter to hug both of them. "Rough night yesterday, huh? I figured Yami was going to drag you to a club or something—it's happened to me more than once. Yami, you smell like smoke. What did I tell you about that?"

"Didn't have a change of clothes," Yami said.

"Gramps was worried about you."

"I know. He's always worried."

"So, are you going anywhere today?"

"Not really."

"Good. Anzu and Jou wanna come over..."

"Sounds good. Honda?"

"I'm not sure, Yami; he might be working." It was good to be at home again, falling back into standard routine. He hadn't had much time to speak to Yuugi at all the past two days—it would have to be something that he sat down to do very soon. The boy had no idea about anything that had happened.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Mokuba's voice wafted through, "but I have to go...gotta go to that meeting with Seto. Ah...Yami..."

"Thanks for the ride," the partial blond said, turning his back to Yuugi and grinning a bit too much for that particular joke.

Mokuba smirked. "Ass. It was nothing. See you around." He turned to leave, a hand in his bushy hair, twirling a strand as usual. Yami found himself unabashedly staring at the brunette's backside until the door closed behind him, and then some.

"You know," Yuugi said, and Yami tried not to jump—he'd forgotten about his hikari completely and he did his best not to show it. "...Mokuba's kind of hot," he finished, an embarrassed blush tinting his cheeks. "What do you think?" I...kind of like how those jeans fit..." his face was blazing red now, and his voice had faded to nothing as he made his way back behind the counter.

"Oh, I agree," Yami said, stretching a bit as he prepared to go upstairs to his room. "I hit that. Twice."

The End

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