Chapter Five
Authoress: Keishi
BIG FAT WARNING:
Contains m/m relationships
ONLY read if you are of age and open-minded!!!
Disclaimer
Seto leaned over Jounouchi, making sure the blond was really asleep as he pulled the pile of blankets over his curled-up form. Dried tear marks showed on Jou's cheeks, but his face remained calm and innocent as he snuggled further into the covers, clutching the pillow he had cried into even tighter. Kaiba placed a set of clothes he thought might fit the blond in the rocking chair he had occupied earlier.
Fully clothed, Seto checked his watch as he strode to the bathroom door. Two hours had passed since he had left the kitchen; night was falling silently outside, along with the continued heavy snowflakes. He picked up the forgotten sandwiches, throwing them into the bathroom trash basket, shoving the bottles of lukewarm beer under his arm to carry downstairs. He silently closed the door to Jou's room and entered the door opposite, walking into his own lavish bedroom. Grabbing his ever-faithful laptop, he exited into the hallway and down the stairs to his study.
What seemed like hours later, but in reality was only twenty minutes, Seto was nearly ripping his hair out in frustration. He was trying to distract his mind with a new program he had created only weeks before, one that catalogued not only every duelist's rarest card, but also kept record of the most stringent of combos they executed in battle. His mind, however, refused to cooperate, bringing flashes of the day's earlier events to the forefront every time he tried to focus it elsewhere. With a disgruntled growl, he gave up, shoving his laptop away from him. He hooked one leg up on his desk as he leaned back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to stall a vicious headache headed that way. He just couldn't _think_!
Images of Jou, nude and writhing underneath him, kept occupying his brain. Alone with only his thoughts for company, Seto let out a helpless little groan as he realized what he had done. The injured blond had finally seemed to open up to Seto, and he had just ripped it all away at the first opportunity, fucking Jou's trust straight down the drain.
'I'm no better than... him,' he thought darkly, finger absently tracing the clotted wound on his lower lip, where the blood had seeped out, dripping onto Jou and driving Seto completely wild. Seto forced his mind away from the delicious, yet disturbing, image of Jou beneath him, and focused instead on why he had acted so... viciously. It had to have been because of his adoptive father. How many times had Seto had to take a beating, or worse, to protect his younger brother from Gozaburo's advances?
Seto shut his eyes tightly and laid his head on his arms, crossed before him on his desk. The headache was getting much, much worse. He mentally shook away his surging thoughts. Too many wounds had been reopened with the ravaging of that pliable, delectable blond pup.
He looked up as he heard a soft knock on the slightly ajar door. Nodding Mokuba in and gesturing at him to close the door, he shifted to look at his younger brother. Attempting a passive face and failing miserably, Seto settled for stern and looked at Mokuba with icy blue eyes. Ignoring the set frown on his brother's countenance, Mokuba flopped down on a dark leather chair and regarded Seto curiously. "Where've you been all this time?"
Seto's eyes immediately went to his desk, but not before the young Kaiba saw a flash of something in the cool blue depths. He leaned forward experimentally, testing the sturdiness of the expensive chair's front legs. "Seto?" he questioned, cocking his head to one side.
"I was.. upstairs..." Seto trailed off, at a loss for words. His frown deepened.
"With Jounouchi?" Mokuba piped up. The elder Kaiba silently cursed his sibling's astuteness, but didn't say anything. He leaned back again in his chair, bringing his arms up to cushion his head as he closed his eyes and tried to will his brother away. He started when he felt a finger touch his neck lightly, tracing along the column.
"What's that?" Mokuba inquired, stretched across the desk so he could reach the bite wound. Seto mimicked his sibling's action, touching the still-smarting mark on his neck gingerly. 'Fuck,' his mind sang at him. He had completely forgotten about that, or he would have chosen more carefully when he redressed himself. "Nothing," he ground out, not looking at Mokuba.
"Uh huh, okay, big brother," Mokuba said disbelievingly. "What, did you and Jou get into some kinda fight or something?"
Seto glared down at his desk menacingly. "Or something," he replied, refusing to look at Mokuba.
Mokuba looked at Seto for a long moment, granite eyes patient. "Seto," he began slowly, "you and Jounouchi didn't..."
Seto's head snapped up at the words, piercing his brother with a questioning glare. "What are you implying, Mokuba?"
"That... mark. It's teeth, isn't it? Jou's teeth. He bit you, didn't he?" With Seto's curt, yet reluctant nod as confirmation, Mokuba went on. "If the two of you weren't fighting, the only other reason you'd have a mark on your neck is if..." the preteen shifted, trailing off, wanting his brother to finish the statement, to admit it out loud.
"It's not what you think," the brown-haired millionaire stated vehemently, staring down at the cherry wood finish of his desk yet again, deliberately ignoring his sibling. When had his brother become so damn worldly? Mokuba stared at his big brother patiently, grey eyes never wavering from Seto's face. After several minutes of uncomfortable, at least for Seto, silence, the CEO sighed, defeated. "Alright, it is. Jou and I had... we... slept together." He said it lamely, his eyes still glued to the desktop.
Mokuba nodded, his face solemn, appearing older than his twelve years. "What does this mean now?"
Seto brought his hands up to cover his face, rubbing his forehead. "What do you mean?"
"Well, its not every day you sleep with your enemy," Mokuba stated matter-of-factly.
Seto looked up sharply. "He was never my enemy."
"Then what was he?"
Seto shook his head, getting up and walking toward the door. "I don't know, but whatever he _was_, things have certainly changed now, haven't they?" With that he left, Mokuba staring at the doorway, wondering exactly what his older brother had meant.
--
Jounouchi stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the patterns across the plaster without really seeing them. One hand idly clutched his side, another lying limp beside him in the tangled sheets. He gently traced the bandages that still tethered his smarting ribcage, a million thoughts careening out of control in his brain. He needed to get out of there.
Jou rubbed his face gently, as if to wipe away all memory of the past twenty-four or so hours. He stretched the length of his body and winced as he felt the 'new pain' between his thighs. He began taking silent inventory of every bump and bruise he could feel.
First off, his head hurt. His forehead throbbed with probably the wickedest headache he had ever experienced sober, and it spread in ugly, beating patches throughout his entire cranium. Next, his shoulders were tight, and his ribs screamed every time he took a not-so-shallow breath. It was amazing what one could block out when they were being fucked into oblivion.
The worst pain, not in intensity, was the burning agony every time he shifted his lower body. His thighs felt bruised, other parts of him stretched and violated beyond repair. 'You asked for it,' Jounouchi berated himself. 'You had to find out.'
Jounouchi squeezed his eyes shut at the mental reminder, breath hitching.
Almost, almost...
Hauling himself slowly out of bed, Jou chased away his thoughts and stood in front of the mirror in the corner of the room. He glanced at the clothes lying on the chair beside it, then took a long hard look at his reflection.
His face looked haggard, the bruise that ran the length of one side an attractive purplish color. He poked it gingerly, only slightly wincing at the pain. He let his eyes rove his body, taking in the sweat-soaked bandages, marveling at the nearly hand-shaped marks on his backside as he twisted around. One hand traced the bruises illustrating the delicate flesh of his hipbone. It was all too much. He turned away and gathered up the offered clothes, intent on hiding the truth behind soft, clean, new-smelling clothing.
The bedside table happened to come into Jou's vision as he turned around, and he saw two plastic pill bottles atop it, along with a glass of water. Padding over, he picked up the first one and couldn't read the label. It was a medication the blond had never even heard of before. 'Uh-uh,' he thought, 'I'm not taking something I don't know.' He then lifted the second one and grinned when he saw 'Tylenol 3' written across the label. Now this was more like it. He downed two pills, chased them with the water, and made his way into the bathroom.
--
An hour after Seto disappeared, Mokuba was sitting in the front room, playing a video game; he looked up when he heard footsteps. Jou came down the stairs slowly, entering Mokuba's vision at a snail's pace. He was engulfed in a large orange turtle-necked sweater that hung down halfway to his knees, new jeans still showing the crease mark down the leg; his feet were bare. The burnished color of the sweater brought out the tawny skin and gold tones of Katsuya's hair in a symphony of autumn; a direct contrast to the swirling wintery whites, blacks and silvers outside.
"Hey, Jounouchi!" Mokuba greeted the blond as he made his way over to the couch, sitting gingerly next the spiky-haired youth. "Wanna play?"
Jou glanced at the screen longingly, but shook his head. "Actually, I'm kinda hungry. Would you guys mind if I was to raid your fridge, maybe make a sandwich or two?"
"Make yourself at home," Mokuba obliged, pausing his game and sliding off the couch. As he led the way into the kitchen, he tossed over his shoulder, "I thought my bro made you something to eat earlier, though."
Color seeped up Jou's neck, creeping across his face until it resembled a tomato. "He, uh, did but... I never got a chance to eat it," he mumbled, not looking at the younger Kaiba.
Mokuba opened his mouth and raised his head in an 'Ah' kind of look, but said nothing. When the pair reached the kitchen, he hopped up on a stool and watched as Jou, literally, raided their refrigerator.
It was only when the blond had torn through two sandwiches, some leftover takoyaki, and almost drank through his second bottle of beer that Mokuba dared attempt any conversation. "You were certainly hungry."
Looking up from where he was finishing off the octopus puffs, Jou picked up his beer and drained the rest of it before answering. "Starved," he managed through a full mouth. He was about to say something else when a shuffling sound came from the kitchen doorway. Both boys turned towards it.
Seto stood just inside the kitchen, an unreadable expression on his face, hands shoved in pockets. Realizing what he must look like, he drew them back out, long tapered fingers, aristocratic, fluttering invisible lines along the wood of the doorframe. The room was silent, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Jou stared at Seto, who looked everywhere else except at the young blond or his brother, not wanting to meet accusatory or sympathetic eyes.
"Kaiba," Jou began, but a wave of Seto's hand cut him off. Still not looking anywhere in particular, the brunet cleared his throat.
"We need to talk, Jounouchi."
----
tbc.
<--back