Sweet SixteenMature

A yu-gi-oh! fanfiction with the pairing Bakura/Mokuba. What is the one thing that would make Mokuba a happy man on his birthday? An afternoon with Bakura of course.There IS a lemon in here, so please proceed with caution.

Sweet Sixteen

Mokuba ran through the heave rain with abandon. This day, July 7, had been his sixteenth birthday, complete with the part Seto Kaiba had deemed worthy of his little brother. It had been extravagant, and Seto had even been relatively kind of Mokuba’s guests for its duration. Mokuba, as he had expected, had received many gifts, from gadgets and gizmos to video games and consoles to KaibaCorp endorsements. Seto’s own gift to Mokuba had been executive position at the Main KaibaCorp business headquarters. It was all a nice thought, actually; Mokuba basically worked there anyway, though he went unpaid.

However employment was a gift that Mokuba did not want. He had no desire to work at KaibaCorp and follow in his brother’s footsteps. Mokuba did not want to end up like Seto; lonely and bitter at the world for his upbringing. Perhaps he would work for KaibaCorp in the future, after he’d had a chance to live his life to the fullest…

And that was why he had run outside, into the rain, after his party had “officially” ended. He knew that here had only been on thing missing from his party—

Bakura.

While they were seeing each other, what Bakura and Mokuba had couldn’t have really been called a “real” relationship—Seto never let Mokuba see the albino when the CEO could help it. But now that Seto was occupied with purging his manor of all of Mokuba’s guests, the younger Kaiba had seen the perfect opportunity, and he took it.

And so, Mokuba ran all the way to Bakura’s house. Eight blocks in the pouring rain. When Mokuba did reach the tomb robber’s house, he knocked, and Ryou answered the door.

“Oh, Kami-sama! Mokuba, what are you doing here?” Ryou said, shocked to see the heir to a multi-million dollar company at his door. “You’re soaking!” Ryou stood aside as Mokuba, possessed with fatigue, staggered into the living room, removing his shoes as Ryou closed the door.

Mokuba struggled to catch his breath. “…is…Bakura…here…?”

Ryou’s eyes softened. “You came all this way to see Bakura? He’s up in his room…” Ryou pointed to a door, up some stairs. Mokuba took off, his legs dragging as he started up the flight. “I hope he hasn’t done anything too bad…” Ryou muttered, shaking his head.

Mokuba was gone, though, by the time the hikari had finished speaking, entering Bakura’s room without so much as a knock. Bakura, who was poised on his bed, sitting Indian style and eating a sandwich, started at Mokuba’s sudden intrusion. “What the fuck? What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Why the hell weren’t you at my birthday bash?”

Bakura frowned. “Because I hate parties. Yours is no exception.”

This caused Mokuba to frown as well. “I wanted you there.”

“Why? So Kaiba could yell at me all day? No thanks.”

Mokuba sighed, and then swallowed. “Shut up, Bakura.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, shut up; I’m done with your excuses. What’s the real reason why you didn’t come?”

“Because I didn’t want to. Why are you soaking wet?”`

“Because I ran all the way here.” Bakura looked distastefully at his sandwich, as though the knowledge of Mokuba running in the rain made Bakura lose his appetite. With a small glare, his Millennium Ring glowed, and the sandwich disappeared. “Show off,” Mokuba muttered.

“Smartass,” Bakura shot back. “Why are you here, anyway?”

Mokuba smiled. “I missed you. You weren’t at my party. I wanted a birthday present from you.”

“What, you didn’t get enough money from your rich friends?”

Mokuba sighed. “You know I’m not like that.”

Bakura scoffed. “Then what did you want?”

The spirit didn’t like the glow in Mokuba’s eyes at all as the younger replied, “You. That’s the one thing I didn’t get today.” The Kaiba took a step towards Bakura.

“The spirit held up a hand. “Don’t you dare take another step. You’re leaving a water trail in my house.”

“Sorry,” Mokuba muttered. He paused for moment, and then began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off to reveal a damp T-shirt underneath as he tossed the button-up to the side.

“Mokuba, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I meant what I said,” the brunette answered, “I want you. I’ve been without you all day.” He removed the T-shirt, throwing it, too, to the side.

Bakura’s eyes glided up and down the younger boy’s chest. “Mokuba…” he breathed, a feral smile creeping across his features.

“What?” Mokuba said, his face the epitome of innocence.

Bakura took a small breath not even bothering to attempt to hide his expression, and said, “You know what? You think you’re hot shit, don’t you, taking off your clothes in front of me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bakura sprung from the bed, quickly, shoving Mokuba against the nearest wall; the youth’s soppy wet hair clung to Bakura’s hands and fingers. His voice husky, he said harshly, “You’ve never offered yourself to me before. Why are you doing this now?”

Bakura’s hiss was met by calm from Mokuba, who had by then grown used to Bakura’s menacing attitude. “It’s my sixteenth birthday, Bakura. I want to have a little fun.” Leaning forward, Mokuba brushed Bakura’s lips with his own.

“Oh, really?” Bakura retorted. “Only a little?"

“Mokuba pretended to think about it. “Alright; as much fun as you want, Bakura. How does that sound?”

Bakura’s breathing hitched, and his lips went to Mokuba’s neck, tongue licking softly before he nibble the skin. Mokuba moaned, tilting his head to give Bakura better access, and Bakura said against tender skin, “Why did I ever let you deny me before? I should have just raped you when I had the chance.”

Mokuba gave a smile strained with wanting, his breaths not coming in pants. “…I don’t remember why I denied you in the first place…”

Bakura kissed Mokuba savagely, hands moving to feel on wet skin as Bakura’s tongue delved into Mokuba’s mouth. Mokuba moaned again, into Bakura’s mouth, shivers sliding down his spine as Bakura gripped a nipple and pinched. “Bakura…” The Yami continued to kiss Mokuba, both parties’ lips swollen and wet as Bakura continued to press Mokuba against the wall, hips pinning the younger there. It had always been this way; Mokuba had always melted hopelessly into Bakura, and it had always taken every ounce of Mokuba’s resolve to pull ways from Bakura’s rough embraces before they went too far.

Now, that was no longer a problem.

Mokuba moaned yet again as Bakura pulled again from him, the tomb robber moving his lips to Mokuba’s chest, biting now at the nipples he had aggravated, watching with glee as they reddened and hardened under Bakura’s persuasive tongue. Taking them one at a time into his mouth and swirling his tongue around each nub, Bakura felt Mokuba squirm and writhe with every touch. “Ohhh…” Mokuba groaned, and Bakura paused a moment before kissing Mokuba again, pale hands roaming through dark, wet raven hair.

“Gods, Mokuba,” Bakura whispered onto Mokuba’s lips, “I should have taken you a long time ago.”

Mokuba’s chest heaved against the albino’s, and Bakura pressed against the youth, closer than ever. “Then take me,” Mokuba said between breaths. “Kami-sama…I want you so badly…”

The feral grin came back to Bakura’s features for a moment before his kissed Mokuba again, and Bakura removed a hand from Mokuba’s hair to run them across the youth’s chest again. Mokuba’s head fell back against the wall, breaths quickening as Bakura’s hands roamed his damp-but-quickly-drying chest, and dipped into Mokuba’s pants to cup the boy’s stiffening manhood. At the contact, Mokuba’s hips jerked involuntarily, thrusting into Bakura’s warm fingers. “Damn, Mokuba,” Bakura muttered, his smirk still firmly in place, “You do want me…” he kissed Mokuba once more, softly, beginning to stroke the growing erection in his hands.

“Oh, Kami-sama!” Mokuba said loudly, shuddering, and gripping Bakura’s hair tightly. Bakura grunted in response, caressing the warm flesh in his fingers one more time, before pulling his hands from Mokuba’s pants altogether. Mokuba whimpered from the loss, eyes clouded with lust as he protested weakly.

Bakura was breathing hard, breaths blowing across Mokuba’s neck as he ordered huskily, “On the bed. Now.” Mokuba wasn’t too sure he could handle walking on his own now, and stumbled more than walked to the bed. Falling face up onto the mattress, Mokuba found Bakura looming over him, unmasked hunger in the albino’s eyes as they rolled across Mokuba’s half-naked body. Mokuba felt himself growing harder just from Bakura’s glare, felt the pressure of his erection as it threatened to breach his pants.

 Bakura walked away from Mokuba, and the boy faintly heard the click of a lock before Bakura filled Mokuba’s vision once more. “Can’t have Ryou walking in,” Bakura said shortly, eyes moving across Mokuba’s body again. Having his pants pressed against him was uncomfortable, and Mokuba squirmed, trying to remove them, oblivious to Bakura’s comment. Bakura’s hands swatted Mokuba’s away, and the albino straddled Mokuba’s waist. “I’ll do it,” the tomb robber said, leaning down to kiss Mokuba again, Bakura’s hips grinding savagely against Mokuba’s. Mokuba cried out, and despite being uncomfortable, found his hips moving to meet Bakura’s. Bakura moaned into Mokuba’s mouth, tongue massaging Mokuba’s insides, reaching long and deep before parting for air. “Fuck, Mokuba; do you know how good you taste?”

Mokuba, still feeling the friction between himself and Bakura, said nothing, suppressing a moan as Bakura’s fingers went to work again, touching everything in sight before moving to Mokuba’s pants. Bakura kissed Mokuba again, fingers posed on the hem of the young Kaiba’s pants as Bakura’s tongue moved down, to his neck, to the boy’s chest once more, leaving tingling flesh in his wake. When Bakura reached Mokuba’s navel, the albino plunged his tongue into the small hole, eliciting a small, breathless laugh from his uke. Bakura continued to tongue the boy’s stomach, deciding at that moment to unbutton Mokuba’s pants.

Bakura liked what he saw. The tomb robber raised an eyebrow at Mokuba. “No boxers today, Mokuba?” he asked breathily, with a snicker.

Mokuba blushed, but replied, “It’s my damn birthday; I’ll do what I want.”

“Indeed it is,” Bakura returned, dipping his head down once again while simultaneously removing Mokuba’s pants completely. The pants were thrown without direction, Bakura’s tongue grazing over a small expanse of soft, velvet black curls before approaching the base of Mokuba’s manhood. “Indeed it is…” Bakura repeated, and took Mokuba into his mouth, the raven-haired boy whimpering at the sensation, eyes widening as though he hadn’t expected the course of action that Bakura had taken. Mokuba’s back arched, and his head landed on soft pillows; Bakura’s tongue running across taut skin, that same skin trembling through Mokuba’s pleasure. Mokuba’s fingers found Bakura’s hair, gripping tightly as Bakura grazed his teeth over sensitive flesh, nibbling lightly. Clamping his eyes shut in pleasure, Mokuba yanked Bakura’s hair, ripping his cock from Bakura’s mouth and guiding him upwards for a harsh, hungry kiss. “Miss me?” Bakura asked breathlessly.

Mokuba simply kissed him harder, tongue darting in and out of Bakura’s mouth, teasing the older male until his moaned. Pulling his mouth from Mokuba’s with an expression of bliss on his face, Bakura dipped down to Mokuba’s erection again, coating it with saliva before blowing cool breaths across the tip. Mokuba shuddered violently, spasms raking his spine as Bakura watched him, now looking bemused. “Is this…funny?” Mokuba said between ragged breaths.

“Not at all,” Bakura replied, “I think you’re rather…sexy…” a pause. “But, I was just wondering what Kaiba would think if he saw his little brother like this…”

Mokuba gave a small smile, as though he saw the amusement in Bakura’s statement. “Don’t…don’t bring him into this...”

“Why not? He’s going to find out, anyway…”

“But he’s not here now.”

“Bakura’s smile turned wicked. “Good point,” he said, dragging an index finger across Mokuba’s length.

“Bakura!” Mokuba snapped, caught between sarcasm and pleasure.

Bakura chuckled. “So, birthday boy, what would you have me do now?”

Mokuba shifted ever so slightly; sweat pouring itself along his body, making his skin wetter than the rain ever had. Sticky, sweat drenched hair clung to his face and shoulders, Bakura weaving a long, raven lock around the same finger he had stroked Mokuba with. Swallowing, trying to catch his shuddering breaths, Mokuba said, “T-take me…” his throat growing hoarse, his breaths growing faint and shallow.

Yet again, Bakura found his eyes roaming across Mokuba’s now sweat soaked body from the boy’s lips down to his throbbing cock, the stressed, fatigued look on Mokuba’s face almost enough to make Bakura come on its own. A small moan escaped his lips from just looking at the boy, eyes closed in ecstasy, hands grasping at the sheets, fingers turning as pale as Bakura’s own skin. Eagerly, Bakura removed his own shirt, tossing it in some god-forsaken place, crouching over Mokuba, looking into the boy’s chocolate eyes as he began to kiss Mokuba deeply, the boy melting into Bakura’s embrace. As he kissed Mokuba, Bakura reached with a slender finger, poking the young boy’s entrance. Mokuba gasped, and Bakura moved to pepper kisses along the young Kaiba’s jaw. However, that did not stop his fingers from curiously probing Mokuba’s insides, the boy beginning to squirm under Bakura’s touch.

“Hold still,” he whispered, his voice emerging from his throat far more gently than he had wanted, and to compensate he pushed a second finger inside of Mokuba, getting a loud moan in return for his trouble. He forced the fingers deeper, and Mokuba bucked into Bakura’s fingers, forcing them even deeper, into his center, and Mokuba cried out, “Oh, Bakura!” Smirking, Bakura untangled himself from Mokuba once more, reaching quickly for a nightstand in the corner of the room—and because of his erection, barely making it—where he removed a bottle of lubricant and prepared himself for the task of fucking Mokuba senseless. He smirked in the direction of the boy, still writhing slightly on the bed. Finally ready, he settled himself back into position on top of Mokuba, smirking as he said, “You think you’re cute, offering your virginity to me your birthday?”

“Bakura, just…”

“It’s gonna hurt like hell, you know.”

Mokuba smirked tiredly. “Are you actually giving me time to deny you again? I thought…you were too smart to make the same mistakes twice.”

Bakura, of course, took this as an insult, and said harshly, “I’m gonna make you regret that,” he said, leaning down to bite down viciously on Mokuba’s neck.

“Damn it!” Mokuba said gruffly, “What are you doing?”

“Leaving a mark that Kaiba can’t miss,” Bakura returned. “But, believe me, that’s the least of your problems,” the tomb robber added, as he fell back between Mokuba’s legs, lifting the boy’s hips higher before beginning to enter Mokuba with hard friction, despite the lube.

Mokuba shut his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain that overwhelmed him. It was as though flames were burning from the inside, and he quickly covered his face with a pillow to muffle the screams he knew were coming, shielding the tears that sprung to his eyes from view at the same time. This action did not go unnoticed by Bakura, who had already filled Mokuba to the hilt. He rolled his eyes at Mokuba’s childishness, ripping the pillow from Mokuba’s grasp and staring into chocolate eyes filled with tears. Breathing heavily, Bakura said, “This is why…this is why I let you stop me…from raping you…” Bakura felt s small pang of guilt—was it bad to feel turned on by making your boyfriend cry?

Mokuba sniffed, his several moments of pleasure before this one of pain enough to calm his bewildered sense of thought. “K-keep going…”

“Lifting Mokuba’s hips higher, Bakura leaned down far enough to kiss Mokuba, tongue mingling gently with the youth’s before pulling away.

“Here…” Bakura said, using a hand to stroke Mokuba’s length. The younger boy tilted his head back, pain counteracted by wave after wave of pleasure as Bakura continued to move his hand back and forth; while Mokuba was caught up in the tomb robber’s fingers, Bakura eased himself from Mokuba, creating a strange mixture of pain and pleasure that displayed itself clearly on Mokuba’s face. Still stroking Mokuba, Bakura thrust himself in again, the going easier than the first time. Bakura smirked; the kid gloves were coming off now. Pulling out again, Bakura thrust into Mokuba repeatedly, starting slowly but quickening accelerating his pace.

Mokuba bucked to meet Bakura’s hips instinctively, the heavy pain he had felt before falling away with every collision between his hips and Bakura’s. The abusive friction had given way to slick pleasure and with Bakura stroking Mokuba’s now renewed length, the boy was nearly driven over the edge. Bakura was surprised at himself; surprised that he could manage to fuck his small lover to one rhythm and stoke the boy in another, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head with every new sound Mokuba emitted through those soft lips of his. With every thrust, Bakura felt himself growing stiffer, coming closer to his own releasing as he was enraptured in Mokuba’s insides.

Mokuba groaned loudly, head jerking back into Bakura’s pillows as the boy’s mouth worked; nothing came out—not that Bakura noticed. Mokuba struggled to speak, caught in a fit of pleasure every time his hips met Bakura’s. The tomb robber was penetrating him completely and utterly; Bakura’s thrusts were filling him to the brim—but it wasn’t enough; Mokuba wanted more. Just a little bit more, and he would—he would—

Almost as though Bakura had read Mokuba’s mind, the albino began moving faster; working himself into frenzy, forgetting Mokuba’s length in his hands and bracing himself against the headboard of his bed. Mokuba cried out, forming his scream into a coherent word: “Deeper!” as his misplaced legs found their way around Bakura’s waist. The sound of Mokuba’s voice was more than enough to spur Bakura to fulfill his little lover’s request, the sweat drenched legs around his waist forcing his hips to grind against Mokuba’s each time they met, causing Mokuba to moan once more.

“Bakura…Bakura…” Mokuba panted heavily, opening his eyes and locking his gaze onto Bakura. It was all the warning Mokuba could give; all the warning Bakura needed, and the spirit of the Millennium Ring braced himself slightly, knowing that Mokuba wouldn’t be able to contain himself much longer. When Bakura unsheathed himself from Mokuba moments later, the boy gripped the sheets surrounding him tightly, jerking in spasms as he came, hot semen spilling itself across Bakura’s stomach, the thick solution dripping down to even coat Bakura’s manhood in turn. But Bakura wasn’t finished, despite the shattering cry that pulled at his ears, despite the cum so mixed with his sweat and Mokuba’s tears that Bakura could no longer tell one from the others.

Bakura filled Mokuba again and again, the young boy beneath him twisting with delight and fatigue; Mokuba’s eyes were blank—looking but not seeing. Bakura gave into himself, moaning loudly as he continued, knowing that Mokuba was past hearing him; he could barely hear himself over the pulsing of his length, the stiffness beginning to feel like a mix of pain and pleasure as the tomb robber sought his own release.

And he found it, just as his length found refuge in Mokuba  one last time before he came, painting Mokuba’s insides as the young Kaiba whimpered, tears welling up in Mokuba’s eyes again as Bakura breathed heavily above him, the boy’s mind not functioning well enough to keep up with the varying levels of bliss that Bakura had put him through. Mokuba whimpered again as Bakura pulled out of him, the raven-haired boy’s legs falling limply onto the bed as Bakura in turn fell beside Mokuba, their bodies sticky and warm against each other, strings of white locks melding with black as Bakura felt the urge to kiss Mokuba again, hard, tongue tracing the boy’s lips. Mokuba moaned, too exhausted to do little more than flick his tongue lazily in Bakura’s direction, wondering how Bakura could have that much energy…

As though to flaunt his stamina, Bakura broke the kiss, smirking smugly as he watched Mokuba’s heaving chest. “You’re going to want to take a shower, kid.”

“…shut…up…” Mokuba managed.

Bakura’s smirk remained firmly in place. “It’s my house. It’s my bed. Why should I have to be quiet? You’re just mad that I fucked you senseless.”

Mokuba swallowed, his chest burning as he tried to catch enough of his breath to speak again. “…why would that…make me mad?”

Bakura smirked, “Smartass.”

Eyes wandering across the expanse of Bakura’s naked, cum covered chest, Mokuba replied, “…show off…”

Bakura laughed at this, and snickered in reply, “Yep. And you’ll have to explain that nice patch of red on your neck to Kaiba.”

The thought of explaining a hickey to Seto seemed like nothing compared to attempting to explain what they really had done, and Mokuba moved his shoulders weakly, in what Bakura guessed was supposed to be a shrug. “…I think I’ll take you…up on the shower offer…” Bakura laughed again, and Mokuba rolled his eyes. “Is that what you do all day…?” Mokuba asked. “…find new ways…to make fun of me…?”

Bakura’s eyes grew serious. “No. I think of new ways to do exactly what I just did to you.” Mokuba blushed. Bakura smiled. “But making fun of you is just as much of a turn on.”

“You’re sick, Bakura…”

Leaning close to Mokuba’s ear, Bakura retorted, “And you want me.”

Mokuba turned an even darker shade of red, and he didn’t even resist when Bakura kissed him again, this time more softly—not that he had the energy to do anything else. Melting into Bakura once more, Mokuba moaned, with a small smile, “…showoff.”

Bakura pulled away quickly. “Whatever. Go take a shower before I fuck you again.” Bakura paused. “Smartass.”

“I’m too tired to move.”

“I could wash you with my tongue. I’m pretty skilled at using it. I’ll have to show you more next time.”

Mokuba laughed, although he inwardly trembled at the idea, and briefly wondered if their argument would ever end.

“Showoff.”

“Smartass…”

The End

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