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First nights in newly-rented (and furnished) apartments were nerve-racking. This was a phenomenon Yugi had been entirely unprepared for, despite the ribbing of his friends… and ghost stories, once Katsuya was out of sight, though they had the certain lacking quality that forced him to stifle a giggle at how stilted they sounded. Anzu had shrugged, knowing the attempt was a futile one these days.
Still, a thorough inspection was done before-hand, even going so far as to check up on local rumors of the apartment. For all that this was the first time such a thing had been done, every single one of them felt as if this were a very familiar routine. Even going so far as to tacitly delegate certain tasks out – Hiroto sneaking a record of the landlord, building, and apartment in particular to be found on a countertop when Yugi had entered the apartment bright and early in the morning (each of them had a key; it made sense, this was likely to be another Kame Game shop, everyone’s possessions littering the abode). Katsuya finding and arranging the odds and ends that served as furniture just so – he argued that the couch had to be in the optimal spot for crashing, and easy to one-hand jump over the edge with the least amount of walking from the fridge with an armful of snacks. Anzu, dear Anzu, picking colours and sheets and anything, everything, that managed to be forgotten in the excited haste of finally having a place in his own name with a no-nonsense briskness he couldn’t help but be fascinated by.
Only one thing was missing. He sighed, tossing in his bed, a hand running through a fringe made messier by the day’s activities of polishing up and celebrating with careless exuberance.
It seemed only moments later that he was awoken by a series of scrapes and clicks in the suddenly too-quiet apartment. Yugi bolted awake, automatically reaching for the bat that had somehow snuck its way to his bedside in the festivities, stumbling out of his hastily-made futon. A breathless curse escaped from his chapped lips, and he shook the clinging sheet away from his ankle. The habit to hold his breath and walk ever-so-quietly to his closed bedroom door came as easily as the urge to crack said door open and peer into his living room. He couldn’t see the front door, obscured by the simple fact that it was on the same wall as his, with a linen closet creating a sharp bend that eclipsed easy spying – of his own home! – to discern just what, precisely, was trying to break in.
The young man almost snorted. What, not whom. He sent a dour, half-amused gaze heavens-ward, I blame you for that, mou hitori no boku. Got me spoiled for regular crimes. Shaking his head, instead, he gathered up his courage (substantially more than what it used to be, thankfully, though still not anywhere near the sheer ballsy-ness that he’s seen in certain others) and slipped out of his room.
Bat at the ready, hands twisting themselves upon it in a bid to stumble upon the perfect way to hold the damned thing – couldn’t I have gotten a different housewarming gift? A pan would have been nice, I can re-use a pan, and waited a pace away from the door for whomever the intruder was. His heart was thundering in his ears, the traitorous thing, but it was quickly given validation at the door swinging open in a smooth movement its ungreased hinges most certainly weren’t capable of. He almost dropped the bat in shock, recovering at the last moment, knuckles white, “R… R-ryou?”
Guess I’m not the only one, he mused, at seeing the intruder – thief, more like, his mind indulging in a bout of irony at the situation – freeze, whites of their eyes as startling as the mop of (was that braided? Since when did he braid-) hair atop their head. Yugi gestured, realizing a moment too late that it was with the weapon-beholden hand, a limp shrug following it in apology, “You just missed the party.”
That seemed to be the correct answer. Though to what question, he didn’t quite know. Ryou uncurled from his hunched position, standing with a swift elegance; his hands just as slick at depositing the metal picks into pockets of pants that looked entirely unlike the other. The tenant cocked his head, reflex making him unsure at just who was before him. But that was silly. … Still, he tapped the improvised weapon on the carpeted floor, raising a brow. Nothing about Ryou looked like what he remembered, save the hair. Even that – braids, really? I guess it’s a step up, you did used to get teased for that… – had transmuted his erstwhile friend into a veritable stranger.
“Are you going to stare at me all night?” He chuckled at the expectant look, glad that for a moment he looked like the sarcastic, surprisingly still polite asshole that his adventures knew him by. Then he shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at the clock… someone had put up. Night, still. Huh, would you look at that. Damned oddities are accurate for once. Barely even pushing one. College sure made him redefine the meaning of a late night. But it seemed time had not erased Ryou’s astuteness, “If you’re wanting the long version, I could use some food.”
Yugi outright laughed at that. He waved a hand – the other one, this time, “Sure, come on in. Well. More than you have already. Are chips good for you? I think I might have some onigiri left over, but there’s no telling what Katsuya’s appetite left.”
This brought a smirk out of his intruder; a little spot of pride welled up in him for the gesture. He didn’t bother to see if the other followed – the itching sensation between his shoulders was more than enough indication. The bat was tossed haphazardly onto the couch, a hum coming to his lips as Yugi padded to the kitchen. Nothing much was left, as the man had guessed, but someone was kind enough to leave enough for breakfast the next morning. Ah, well. I can always show up and have breakfast with Haha and Jii-chan. The thought prompted a humored smile, No doubt they’re gonna rib me about that.
A plate of onigiri was unwrapped and left on the counter. There were a couple mugs somewhere, if only he could find them… His lips pursed into a moue of concentration, flicking on the lights to rummage through the cabinets, stretching on his tip-toes for the upper ones. He heard an amused rumble behind him (did that really come out of Ryou? Wonder when he got those pipes) before a muttered, “Here, let me,” and the press of a warm body at his side appeared. Yugi sucked in a startled breath, freezing in place as the other neatly obtained the two pieces he had been looking for. Now, he wasn’t one for swearing, and most certainly not in the vein of religious mutterings. But that didn’t stop his mind from sputtering out a Jesus fuck. It was an entirely appropriate reaction.
When Ryou moved away to search the other cabinets, and drawers, apparently catching on to his idea for tea with the rice snack, he curled back into a more normal position, “Where’s the sugar?”
“Huh?”
The other man (well-built, attractive man, his mind butted in, as dazed as he was) raised a brow at the answer. A slim hand gestured at the bounty lying in wait next to him, “Sugar. For the tea. …Or honey, I guess. If you have it.”
Yugi blinked, finally catching up to the question. He gave a nervous laugh, more of a giggle, really – damned hot guys making me tongue-tied, his mind grimaced, something he agreed with whole-heartedly at the moment – rubbing at the back of his neck, “Oh. Um. We should have some in the fridge. We haven’t exactly fumigated the place yet… yeah. I think.”
His face burned at the amused look that was thrown at him. Crap. The man was tempted to think it more. Would that help the situation any? Probably not. He scooted aside at the refrigerator being opened, hands pawing worriedly at his sleep pants. Crap. I probably look like crap. Crap. It was tempting to run a hand, both hands, through his hair, and see if he could make it into a more appealing mess that being jolted awake made it look. There was more than enough experience in that category, at least. Being hip-bumped after Ryou found what he was looking for (sugar, and boy, did his mind have a field day with that) nearly knocked him over.
The taller man hid an arch look, shaking his head mentally, gathering the mugs up and filling them with a steady stream of tap water with a lazy-handed motion that was only slightly neater than his usual habit dictated. He was a guest, after all. It’s a better apology to keep the outsides clean than scare the King more, some distant little remnant of his mind snarked, curled up comfortably in the corner with all his memories of Voice. Ryou sighed mutely, agreeing with it – or at least the gist behind it. The mugs were shoved into the microwave; bless whomever invented those, he was already so sick of waiting for water to boil on the stove. Fuck kettles. He grumbled to himself, mind flitting over the more salacious of his memories during his erstwhile time away, Whistling piles of garbage.
He rapped one hand on the counter, lounging against it casually while he observed the other. Yugi was recovering quickly, having found some dirty dishes in the sink to busy himself with. Even if it were only to avoid looking at him (something he entirely understood, most days he didn’t feel like looking at himself, either), it was typical of him to bounce back so; when he wasn’t procrastinating, that was. You grew up, little King. I wonder what gave you such a taste for chores.
Almost as if the other heard his thoughts, Yugi paused, turning around with a sudsy sponge in his grip. Bubbles covered that hand, cheap ceiling lights illuminating the trails of water that the soap didn’t cover. He swallowed. The beeping of the microwave cut into the tension (when did that get there?), and the blond blinked, a brief flash of lashes that helped reset his abruptly non-functioning mind. Ryou swept over to the distraction, avoiding the other one with a studious nonchalance; both mugs were plucked out and placed onto the counter. He managed to keep his back to Yugi the entire time, carefully measuring out the loose-leaf tea with practiced shakes of the tin – a shake of sugar was added to his own, not one to waste time on even something simple, anymore.
Setting the tin down, he grabbed his own mug, careful to keep a firm grip on the handle and simultaneously avoid burning himself on the rest of the hot ceramic. Yugi followed him a beat later after the sound of a drawer being opened and a metallic rattling (spoons, how did he forget that?). The man shook his head, too light for the bound hair to disclose his movements. He left the other to the couch, sitting on one of the cushy chairs opposing him; the seat enveloped him quickly, and it took some doing to avoid sinking in too deeply, hand trembling with the effort to keep from spilling his tea everywhere. A muffled cough made his face twist into a frustrated pout, his free hand reaching out to claw at the edge of the cushion in a white-knuckled attempt to not look as silly as he felt.
Yugi hid a smile at the triumphant grin when he finally freed himself from the grips of the chair Katsuya managed to find. It softened the other’s frame minutely, and for a moment they shared the bout of humor like they used to (when there was time, heaven knew there was never enough peaceful moments between the two of them).
“Ryou…” He looked down, away from the other’s inquisitive gaze. How are you? Where have you been? What happened? None of those seemed to fit. The mug was warm, a hair away from scorching in a way he could appreciate, “I missed you.”
The silence that ensued was only worsened by the baffled, penetrating look in the other man’s eyes. He resettled uncomfortably on the couch, curling his toes in the rug, stirring the tea with a quiet chiming sound that only added to the atmosphere. Yeah, but did he miss you? His mind interrupted. It was a thought he had been trying to avoid, contenting himself with the easy-enough interaction in the kitchen earlier – and the way Ryou had received his awkward greeting. Now he wasn’t so sure if the little spark of hope that warmed his heart since being startled awake had a reason to stay.
For his part, Ryou didn’t quite know what to say. It wasn’t like he knew this was Yugi’s house – hell, he hadn’t known the man had moved away from his childhood home in the first place. How many years had it been? He sighed; more than enough to nearly forget how the one sitting opposite of him looked like. Nor was it lacking to appreciate the changes time wrought upon Yugi. Absently, his eyes slid over the other’s form, appreciating how the folds of the sleep clothes painted a deceptively innocent picture with the soothing colours – even from here he could tell the texture was soft.
He looked away before the other could realize something was amiss. Stop thinking that, his mind scolded, He probably hates you for deserting him. It’s not like you have a chance. The glazed cup received his dark look at the thoughts. It was right, though – disappearing just when all of them had started making amends and repairing the fractures the Items and their spirits had wrought had taken long enough, and he had left before any of that could be firmly realized. Still, he protested that staying would have been any better. All of the debtors and thieves his “other half” had associated with whilst he had been traipsing his way around Japan – and Egypt, when that time had come (his father was still annoyed at him skipping out of the country like that) – caught up to him soon enough after high school. Maybe if… no. Too late for that. I couldn’t have let them go after Yugi… and everyone.
It was safer that way, packing everything he owned (or was willing to carry, some things were too heavy for the memories attached to them), and leaving during one fog-riddled morning before anyone even had the notion to get ready for their day. Even the keys were shoved under the floor mat of the landlord. Nothing was left to chance in erasing all but the most important of things that proved his existence to the world at large. Old homework he never managed to throw away, figurines, photos, letters… all of it. Except for the scars on his chest and a picture of the friends he almost made stuffed into an inside pocket remained for frivolous reminders. That had not been the first time his life had been left behind, but it was by far the most permanent of moves and most tumultuous; nothing about the new life made for him matched his old ones, naught but being treated as a tag-along, picking up skills along the way to pay for room and board he didn’t even want.
The feather-light touch of a hand on his knee roused him from his thoughts. Yugi’s eyes were voicing everything he didn’t have the courage to: Are you alright? Please, tell me. His mind stuttered at seeing this old friend of his looking at him with that typical pleading, doe-eyed expression Ryou had yet to find on anyone else. He set his cup down on the glass table, a frown on his face he only knew was there by the lucidly-changing expressions on the other’s face. A sigh escaped him at that, and he forced his face into a vaguely neutral one – happy was too hard, he was too tired for that, in too many ways - placing a hand over the one already there. The other man sucked in a quiet breath, nearly a gasp, definitely startled by the action.
Yugi had no idea what possessed him to kneel at his feet, nor to touch him like that. His voice had died in the back of his throat, too thick with an unidentifiable emotion, but whatever he had barely planned seemed to work, anyway. If suddenly having this man being so close (closer, than he had imagined was possible) to him could be considered a success. The air was tenuous, expectant, instead of strained. It was instinct to listen to whatever it was hanging around them and let his eyes flutter to half-mast. Whoever was up there was either playing this carefully to mess with both men, or was busy answering prayers neither of them knew they were making, because a press of lips to his seemed to make the world fall into place again. His hand curled tighter on the rough fabric of Ryou’s jeans, echoed by the one over his.
All of his senses simmered down to that single point of contact, lips brushing over each other with precisely the right amount of pressure, neither too chaste nor too hot. It steamed at his mind pleasantly. There was a contented sound from one of them, he couldn’t tell. Somehow Yugi had made it to pressing back, a spot of warmth under his shoulder blades tugging him up, higher, higher, thigh pressed against shin. When had his hand reached the other man’s shoulder? He didn’t know, nor did he care – it was perfect just the way it was.
“I missed you, I missed you, Imissedyou-” The words were music to his ears. Ryou moaned at being yanked closer, the hand at his shoulder burying itself in his hair with a knotting force that neatly counteracted the silk of the other’s lips. Neither of them had indulged in the cleansing palate of their tea, and he could taste the lingering sweetness of what the man and the rest of the friends he abandoned had surely indulged in. A tinge of salt – the chips, his mind numbly offered, ones he never got to partake in. For some reason the onigiri effortlessly played up what must certainly be the taste that was Yugi alone. He pulled back, already aching at the loss, untangling himself to cup the other man’s face, “I thought about you every day.”
It was hard not to relish the earnest words, and the tenant sighed, swearing that he could taste the words on his reddened lips. Now today’s complete. The silence was soothing this time; on a whim, his eyes opened, and he took the hands on his face in his own. Little kisses were pressed to the roughened knuckles, lingering with a firm affection. Yugi was neither doting nor overbearing, but there was something about the act of pressing his lips to another’s skin in a casually intimate manner that made the moment surreal. His mind, so attuned to a gamer’s logic and the dubious thrill of battle, picked apart every shiver and twitch of the one he was relishing his thoughts upon. Idly, he shifted his grip, uncurling Ryou’s hands to trace at his palms with light fingertips.
He squirmed at the sensation, ticklish. Yugi murmured an absent apology, smoothing the imaginary marks with a trail of kisses, continuing on his unanticipated way with a patter of fingers. Callouses were lingered at with a careful circling, a nail scraping at a particularly rough one in curiosity; they were all catalogued – in much the same way each new booster pack was – compared to his memories and postulated on what could have caused each of them. Admittedly, he didn’t have much in the way of his own (lifting boxes for the shop was one thing, and while the time showed on his hands, there weren’t many ones unusual to the trade, nor untouched by burns from so many years ago), but he had seen a variety on others. Hiroto and Katsuya had almost identical ones, from their high school days, even if the former had accumulated more because of his job at the local police department. Anzu had on hers the marks of years of practice with the balance bar.
But these hands… these hands he knew had the same marks that his darker half had in the memory RPG – the way the top of palm bore the brunt of a shifting handle, fingers and thick muscle of thumb supported the other side – minute marks littered fingertips and back of hand; some even up to the middle of his forearm, Yugi discovered, pushing up the coat sleeves with a consuming desire to know what touch life had left this lost friend before him. One nick looked ghastly when laid side by side the others – a welt diagonally across, scar tissue twisting the pale skin into something that managed not to be too deep. He frowned at the puckered skin, laying a palm over it.
“Someone thought it was a good idea to learn on the job.”
It broke Yugi out of his thoughts, and he gave a hum, shooting him a quizzical look. Ryou gave a dry smile, gesturing at the arm that was under such close inspection, “I got it a few years ago. Didn’t have time to clean it, so it became infected,” His lips twitched humorlessly at the intake of breath. The man gingerly shook off the tightened grip, capturing the hand that had curled around his arm, his other carding through the sleep-mussed hair. There were few tangles in it, and for a moment he was content to memorize the feel of the multi-coloured locks. Eventually Yugi relaxed under his touch (curious, he hadn’t known there was something to tense over, but then again the other was always soft-hearted like that), “It’s okay. It’s just skin.”
The head under his questing hand shook – dislodging the oncoming sigh he could tell was making its way through, Ryou was damn certain he had found a nice spot – in disagreement, “It’s never just skin, Ryou,” At the words, his heart twinged, remembering echoes of that phrase he himself had said so many times, so long ago. Yugi laid his head down, resting on the curve of his knee. One of the man’s hands hooked itself onto a crease in his pants in an almost needy gesture, “If it were just skin, things would be so much easier.”
Both of them seemed to sink into each other simultaneously; a thief, made of outside influences and debts hoisted upon him, curling around a king, of games gone by made modern in a world that forgot how it perverted tradition, who nestled himself twixt legs in unconscious belief that it would protect him and their fragile idea of what constituted peace (survivorship, more, their hands clenched tighter upon bunched-up fabric).
“I should have done something! Nobody knew where you were, something could ha-”
“Shh. It didn’t, I didn’t, it’s okay-”
Somehow or another, one made it atop the other, a desperate scramble fueled by memories and emotions too potent for a single soul to carry unabided. Their visions were blurred, by either cloth or tears. Long moments passed with thrumming in their ears, murmurs and touches meant to reassure himself (that he was there, that he was still here and not there). Ryou had shed his coat, by someone’s hands, warmth chasing away the chill the motion wrought; he pulled closer, the man in his lap groaning at the full-handed grasping that tucked him neatly into the divots and gaps between them. Not a perfect fit, no, but perfect enough. Yugi pawed at him, rocking into the nearly unnoticeable tremors he made, almost cruelly rough as he amplified what he hadn’t realized what was happening.
Ryou moaned, months of only distant or brisk, business-like contact making this rattle his nerves. The sleep clothes hid nothing, this close, and he slid the hand that wasn’t on the other’s hip – anchoring him, but there was a tickle of thought that it was unnecessary – down smooth planes of muscles that bowed under his inquisition. A grind against him, mellowed by their closeness to nothing more than a tightly-controlled shiver of heat, choked a gasp out of his lungs (already burning, but moving too far away was unthinkable – not when he had been so far away for so long). He sensed a reckless and innately-pleased smirk against his lips. Ohh, I didn’t know you could do that, There was no way he could have anticipated that swipe of tongue, the man in his arms far too quick on the opportunity of a moment earlier.
The only way he could think of to reciprocate – retaliate – was to shove both hands under that slinky thing of a sleep shirt and get it off Yugi quick as a wink, fingertips pressing like a desperate, blind man. It landed somewhere, but it was out of the way and thus already out of his mind at the very preoccupying feel of skin. With the way his mouth was being utilized to every inch of capability – shit, my jaw’s gonna be sore the way he’s doing that, another moan filtering out of him at an accompanying thought to the words, eagerly accepting the hand at the back of his head tilting it back and supple lips plying his in precisely the same subtly dominating skill Yugi displayed on the dueling field – there was barely any room left to be surprised at how sinuous the other man suddenly was.
Cool skin met his stomach, a sharp contrast to the sizzling heat a scant hand span lower, and he groaned at his vision being abruptly obscured by his shirt. Smells raked over him, half of them from his shirt and earlier activities during the day marking it (an oil stain here, grease from some food a street side vendor had convinced him into, some water of a sprinkler in the neighborhood he was in at the time, all mixing with the smell of sweat and arousal), the other half clinging to the sheer nearness of Yugi. He inhaled greedily, tone sharpening to a choked gasp at the feel of hands and nails grazing over his exposed front that was similarly followed by lips that were far too slick and smooth for his brain to do anything but fizzle out with a happy sound. Several contented minutes passed by with tingling nerves at the magic that had to most certainly be wrought upon him (Fucking master at this, it seemed his brain had enough energy upstairs to mutter fondly, Might as well be dueling) before he realized his neck was no longer being covered with one hell of a hickey.
Ryou groaned, bucking his hips into the other man – and distantly pleased at the startled sound the action received, not bothering to listen. If it was important, Yugi would repeat it. Probably.
Hands squeezed at his waist, prompting an eye to peel open at the insistent pressure. A playful smile met his unfocused vision, “Hey, there,” The had-been intruder blinked a couple more times, looking distinctly more alert – and unhappy – afterwards. A giggle bubbled out of him at the expression. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom, “I just wanted to ask if you felt like moving. Chairs don’t always, um, make for comfortable sex.”
If it was even possible, the reaction to that was even funnier – the other’s eyes bugging out and a pause before rapid nodding that seemed to shake all the unbraided hair the man had. He grinned, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on Ryou’s lips and rub their noses together playfully. One hand snaked forward, finding the hair tie that held the locks together and slipping it off with a couple of hooked fingers, delighting in the resulting exhale. The pale hair was smooth under his touch. Yugi sighed, palming a handful close to the other man’s skull to loosen it further and brushed his lips across the other’s cheeks in a cat-like manner, five-o’-clock shadow scraping against him. Sensations roiled against him, and he sought more from the other in a bid to keep the “game” going on longer – getting to his bed would be the endgame, and he wasn’t quite ready for that yet (even if it was his suggestion).
This was so vastly different from the quick fucks he was used to that the difference was overwhelming. His brain had already shut down a while ago, so all that was left was a very pleased rumble as Ryou catalogued every single touch and flick of his old friend’s fingers on his body. Yeesss, I like that, The primal little part of his brain still in its official housing purred in sibilant tones that he was distinctly sure Voice would have been proud of. His hands, which had lain by the curl of Yugi’s knees with nary a twitch to relish in the feel of the other’s pants tickling against his fingertips, slidinto action. They slipped between the press of his calf and thigh, fingers dipping briefly into the hollows that were the back of the other man’s knees, sliding up to his hips with a motion made suave with years of thieving practice to wrap around the barely-protruding bones. The pants – and resulting boxers - slipped down with scarcely a persuasive touch, elastic bunching and stretching to reveal a surprisingly delicious-looking scarcity of hair.
Yugi froze, a delicate tremble keeping him in place at the feel of curious fingers there. The hand he had in the other’s hair tightened in a white-knuckled grip, his gasp echoed with a pained one, nearly bucking at the accidental scrape of nails, “P-please,” He begged, not sure if what he really wanted was to feel those fingers trace more imaginary shapes or to turn rough and take what he knew Ryou wanted. A beat passed, and he shuddered deeply at the other’s fingers smoothing thoughtfully on his skin; the rest of his clothing was divested with a decisive flex of muscular, calloused hands – a firm squeeze of his rear making him lick his lips dryly at the suggestiveness of it – material gathering at the crook of his knees.
To be out and in the open, so to speak, was both immensely relieving and incredibly vulnerating. His lungs attempted to take in steady breaths, try and steady the rest of him from just the sheer thoughts that his mind was happily firing off with over-worked neurons; it didn’t help at the unexpectedly hungry expression in Ryou’s eyes as they locked gazes. Hands were still on him, a couple digits from each resting against the curve of his bottom, flexing minutely on occasion to whatever drumbeat was going on in the other’s mind – it sparked across his nerves and sent ice up his spine. He pressed his tongue desperately to the roof of his mouth, trying not to let a moan loose just yet. The other man seemed to notice, though, a razor-slick smirk tampering with the edges of his expression as his hands ran over him with an air of calculated nonchalance. It was just as premeditated an action as his non-reaction, and his jaw ached with clenching it so hard at being touched with such a warm, flat-palmed, caress that teased down his front to the inside of his thighs. Sudden skin contact startled him, but not so much as the edge of a thumb that had grazed against him.
His head leaned forward with a pant against the other’s shoulder. The electric thrill that shot through him at the daring move left the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Both hands were squished between them, and they wiggled a bit, tapping against his stomach that an arched eyebrow made him flush at. He bit his lip, making the brow go higher, “Should I assume you liked that?”
Yugi’s bangs swayed with vehement agreement. Smirk widening, knowing (and memorizing) that his sneakiness had shaken the other, his hands inched up to circle at the man’s trim waist and coax him into sinking deeper. The other had heated skin, slowly becoming slick with sweat at their activities, and his grip had to firm so it didn’t slip – not that he didn’t, but the fabric of the couch was enough to keep him still. Smart King, good King, his mind cooed, savoring that the other picked up on the hint and ground into his clothed erection. He shuddered out a contented sigh, adding in his own movements where he thought lacking. They stayed like that for a while, Yugi eventually settling into him with a gooey slump – only his hips and the taut lines of his body any indication that he was anything other than aroused.
The living perch he had settled himself upon jolted, a long, drawn-out gesture that lifted him up. He slipped against the other, fingers scrabbling at Ryou’s shoulders as their positions changed so subtly it was electrifying. Planted arse-down dead center of where he was just moments ago rearranged his perspective – dick being teased at the feel of a sculpted stomach sleek with sweat – with a shuddering, absolutely gorgeous-looking man underneath him barely able to look straight made him grunt out surprised approval, “M-mooore,” He moaned, jerking Ryou’s face to his in a demanding kiss, sloppy and full of nips, “Dammit. Fuck me, o-or something.”
Badgering appeared to do the trick. With an exasperated groan that was caught in his mouth, he was bundled up, knees clipping on the other’s waist. An adamant press to his back conveyed a command clearly, and Yugi’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. There was a brief bout of vertigo, “Fucking monkey,” The man grinned at the fond tone, shifting his hips in reminder as he pressed a wet kiss to the forming bruise on the other’s neck, hiding a laugh at the swat he received from one of the arms holding him up under his rear, “I can drop you, y’know.”
There was an amused purr under his ear, “Only if you’re coming with me.”
He shook his head, bumping the bedroom door the rest of the way open with a bared shoulder, “Snarky little brat. Makes me wonder how the pharaoh got along with you.” Yugi was dumped on his bed – or tried to, at least, a quick tickle to his ribs being needed to dislodge the man. Another huff, at the sight the other made – eyes dilated with lust, hair mussed, and junk hanging out above his waist band with a smile. If he felt like being honest with himself, it just made the man more attractive than he already was. And he looks goddamned ridiculous. He chuckled, shaking his head again.
That prompted a petulant sound, arms rising from the bed to gesticulate passionately (with exaggerated pointing), “I’ll have you know we got along great! … It was just once in a while that he, you know, did this,” He made a strangled noise, astutely accentuated with frustrated flailing. Ryou had to admit it was a spot-on interpretation of the late king. One hand swung into his direction, crooking in a dramatically imperious gesture, “Hey! Are you gonna get over here, or what?”
A sonorous laugh reverberated against the walls of the sparsely-decorated bedroom. He nudged one leg with his knee, not bothering to move, and raised a brow, “I’m going to guess that you want more than just a little humping-“ A ‘Damn straight!’ interrupted him, to which a nonplussed smirk was added to his features, “Which means we’re missing something, oh, important?”
Yugi paused, finger drooping slightly, lips shaped into an “o” of sudden comprehension. His eyes lit up a moment later, before there was a mad scramble off the bed with an excited mutter of, “I know it’s here! … I don’t think anybody moved it, should still be in my toiletries.” Ryou sat on the other’s recently-vacated space, arms stretched out behind him as a counterbalance. Light flooded the dimmed room, and in the mirror he could see the tenant hunting about various things in the bathroom – his pants were still awkwardly hanging on him, and there was one moment he paused in his frantic search to shoot an annoyed look at his clothing, kicking it off matter-of-factly to be left on the floor. The view was admirable, and Ryou caught himself licking his lips in appreciation. Finally, a victorious - muted, considering the time of night - shout reached him; a small bottle was presented cheerfully, and he laughed at the unintentional double-salute.
Mimicking the other’s earlier action, he crooked a finger at him. With a proud look, Yugi strutted over, settling himself on his lap in roughly the same position as earlier – the key difference being that a bottle of lube was plopped into his hand with a pat that was altogether more mischievous than it should have been able to be. And a distinct lack of clothing. One finger circled in a suspiciously delicate manner around a nipple, and he inhaled jaggedly. Tossing the bottle near the messy pile of pillows, he clutched at the other’s thighs, moving the other down a nudge. A confused sound met his actions, before changing to a smug one when he picked at his belt.
His own hands were shoved aside, fingers sliding underneath between the loop to loosen it, deftly undone with a firm tug that lifted his hips up a little. It was downright heavenly to have his pants undone, and he moaned at the teasing, utterly unnecessary touches. A sigh was forced out of him at the cool air (when did it get so cold? I already have my shirt off…) and his arms went out from under him, sliding out so his head could land with a cushioned thump on the mattress. Everything around him smelled of Yugi, and that only stoked the fires; he sighed, letting himself be undressed with uneven tugs and slipping of coarse fabric. His legs felt so much freer after that, and one crooked up, arms splaying out in a welcoming gesture. A brilliant smile met his gesture, and the other settled against him, both reflexively hissing at the exhilarating contact. It brought the mood back from beneath the surface it had been lurking under, and the comfortable lounging morphed into a crushing force that stole the breath out of his lungs.
Their earlier movements on the chair were taken up again. A thrill went up his spine at how different it felt, changing from vertical to horizontal. He hooked a leg around the other, rolling them so that he was on top. Yugi’s hair fanned out around him, an irregular halo of colours, bangs spread out in slashes of colour that fair seemed to glitter in the moonlight peeking through the shades. The sight rolled a content sigh out of him. From his kneeling place over the other, knees knocking against hipbones, he curled over the other; a shaky, surprised inhale met him when his hands cupped the other’s cheeks, eyes peering at him in uncertainty. With something akin to reverence, his lips traced over the man’s face: stubbly jaw that could only be barely detected, slightly chubby cheeks – not too much, time erased that particular aspect of innocence - strong cheekbones and pert nose.
A whoosh of breath eased out of his mouth, warming Yugi’s face. He squirmed slightly, the sudden, intimate attention feeling a bit odd compared to the elusiveness the other man had been displaying for the better part of the evening. One hand rose to skim Ryou’s side, causing the butterfly kisses to pause with a startled twitch of the other’s body. His lips slipped into a tentative smile, raising his chin in askance for another kiss. It was granted with a brief curl of lips against his, imparting a sweet tone to the atmosphere, “I missed you, too, Yugi.”
Some little part hidden away from the world melted at the words; his hand smoothed up the other’s side, winding about a shoulder to draw down his friend’s arm, memorizing each dip and rise of his bicep and forearm. Ryou obliged the action, lifting his arm so they could twine fingers – he had to lean to one side in order to complete the action, but it was worth it to see Yugi’s eyes flutter shut as he peppered kisses to each knuckle the same way that was done to him minutes earlier. A poignant silence enveloped the two men. Reluctantly, he drew away, letting their hands fall apart with a warm look in his gaze. A blush heated across the other’s cheeks, and his lips turned up gently, brushing a chaste kiss to one side as his hand slid purposely down to grasp at the man’s hip.
He coaxed him into a slight turn, with just enough of a degree to fit him into – leg wrapped around his waist, other trapped beneath him as he leaned down, one hand snaking between them to pump his half-hard erection. His gaze sharpened into a pleased grin when Yugi’s eyes widened in shock (surely he must have known? Point A to point B…) and instinctively arched into the touch with a gasp that just barely teetered the edge of a moan. The grip tightened minutely, savoring the jerk in his hand. Ryou kept the pace just slow enough to tease, drawing upon his own experiences that the similar position helped to bring to the forefront of his mind, and waited patiently for the other man to unravel before him.
It didn’t take too long. Whilst he had kept steady, Yugi had let himself be consumed with the building tension. One hand gripped the sheets tightly, the other seeming to not know what to do, eventually finding a home in his hair (hmm, little King has a thing for that, he observed, allowing the succeeding, increasingly scattered, thoughts to occupy him) with nearly as rigid of a grip. He winced, but kept going, enjoying the sounds escaping from the other’s throat with little interruption or warning. Seconds melted into minutes, accompanied by the disjointed music that was Yugi’s pleasure. Right when the other’s muscles were trip-wire taut, he stopped, releasing him from the induced thrall – the man gave a startled moan, protesting weakly when Ryou reached over him to grab the bottle of lube that had been left all by its lonesome all this time. Grinding meaningfully into the other, he leaned in close to whisper against Yugi’s lips, “I’m ready when you are.”
Energy surged back into the tenant, and he snatched the bottle away. The man above him laughed, and he shot him a peeved look, fumbling to get the cap unscrewed in the quickest manner possible. Of course, there was only one method, but that didn’t stop him from trying. When the cap came off with the typical plastic-sounding click, it echoed in the bedroom; some of it spilled on him, but fuck if he cared - so long as it went where it was most important. He managed to pour a suitable amount into Ryou’s waiting hand, fruitlessly ignoring the smirk decorating his face, and lifted his hips up with a frown that was more of a pout. Idea received, albeit with a poorly-suppressed chuckle, the slicked-up hand wound its way down in a gasp-inducing manoeuver that he was certain was on purpose.
However stealthy the original actions were, it became glaringly obvious that the continued prodding was more curious than memory-driven. He grunted, using the leg around Ryou’s waist to dig a heel into the man’s back, forcing him to slip a finger in unnoticed. It ended up being two, and he sucked in a breath. One look stalled the stream of apologies he was certain would have erupted from the other’s mouth – on second thought… His fingers caught at his new favourite spot, dragging the man into a lazy, open-mouthed kiss. The feeling was almost as good as the growing confidence below; he arched into the sweeping motions, curling his tongue into the other’s mouth with an impish edge. A moan rebounded into him as his fingers shifted from insistent yank to a gentle massage at the base of Ryou’s skull.
Jaw flexing as he caught up to the pace the other was silently demanding, he absently hooked his fingers at the edge of the man’s entrance, a tightly-coiled shiver pervading him at the cool air evaporating the intimate heat on his fingers. The body under him twisted lithely at the resulting bolt of pleasure with a whine, and he took the time to slide another drenched finger in alongside the others. It seemed to be a little bit too much for the other to handle, a rough spasm against the length of him shocking a moan out of him. The gentle touch that had soothed his (quite literally) frazzled nerves had adroitly changed back into a snarling knot of hair. He winced, fingers curling to scrape at the same spot he had recently found with the blunt edge of his nails.
If he thought that would have been proper retaliation, it proved to be precisely the exact opposite course of action. The hand on his head flexed sharply, stars popping into his vision, before abruptly falling away as Yugi emitted a lustful screech. What the fuck. His mind stuttered, eyes bulging at the reaction. Hand frozen, all he could do was stare at the panting, shuddering pile of man, “F-fuck. Ryou!” He startled, causing his fingers to uncurl from their tense position. It was only slightly less panic-inducing this time around, still being in a daze from the first bout, so he didn’t nearly jerk out entirely in shock, “Da-aah – dammit, Ryou. Do something.”
The command broke him out of his thoughts (or lack thereof, as it were), and his head bobbed rapidly, not entirely sure Yugi could see it, if his response to something so simple was anything to be counted on. His free hand patted blindly at the sheets, guessing where the bottle had been left – fingers sliding on the outside, managing to bring it over by pawing at it desperately until it could reliably be handled. Pulling his occupied hand out – wincing at the moan, fully expecting another leave of sanity from the other – he unscrewed the thing with his teeth with an even bigger wince at the taste, making a rough estimate at how much he needed. One sloppy slather later and he was convinced to follow up not a second later with a demanding hand on his cock that made the entire process easier for his in absentia mind.
Every tremor and lurch was acutely noted as he slipped inside Yugi, hands clenching nervously on the other. While this wasn’t the first time he had sex, it certainly was the first time with this person; for some reason, that made tonight all the more painstaking – he wanted this reunion to be perfect, and if sex was how the dice rolled, then he’d be damned if he didn’t get it right. It wasn’t a bad thing to give, to share himself like this. Not with Yugi, anyway. His friend had saved his ass from so many things while they were still but weedy little kids that he couldn’t scoff at how the rapidly, minutely changing expressions on the other’s face captured his fascination. The temptation to run his hands over the man was given into, and they traced each line and curve of the slim body before him in rapt attention at which spots caused a contented flutter of eyes and a sharp intake of breath.
Yugi’s legs eased themselves somehow around his waist, cradled in the crook of his elbows, hands palming the wings of his ribs in unthinking adoration. The closeness made his heart beat faster – a hairsbreadth was between them, he could feel the echoing beat through the other man’s skin. A quiet half-moan filtered into his brain. He caressed a patch of skin on the underside of the other’s jaw, tasting the day’s changes wrought upon him as he flexed into him with a staggered, intense rhythm.
“I’m here for you,” The words slipped out. It was an accident, unthinking, but he couldn’t bear to take them back at the look on Yugi’s face – the sheer vulnerability his words caused in the other. A strange emotion rumbled through him, sticking and twanging at chords in places he hadn’t been aware of having. His lips found the other’s, working them over with delicacy as he rocked into him. It was a whim to repeat them steadily, relishing in every twitch and moan it caused, “I’m here for you, I’m here for you…”
Breathless murmurs met him, coinciding with the unhurriedly building fervor of the other man’s body. The air was hot – he didn’t know if the air conditioner had kicked in, but a niggling thought at the back of his mind commented that it was likely to have gone unnoticed, anyway (or maybe it was just them, their skin slick against each other to a sticking point of connection). Undiluted prayers were mouthed against his cheek, loose hair tumbling over his shoulder catching the words with a muffled swish. An unsteady sigh hitched at the edge of his lips, echoed unconsciously from the change in tone it carried, and he caught the effervescent thought as it wobbled behind the man’s teeth with his mouth. A twitch, and he choked out a sigh. Feeling the evening crest between them scattered bright pops of feeling – lust, but not quite just that – across his nerves, ricocheting into the other with an undulating freedom of expression, “Y-yugi, Yugi, o-oohh, Yugi…”
His face scrunched up, unable to see the fond gaze directed at him in the quiet aftermath; Yugi lifted his weary arms to wrap around the man, relishing the weight of the other against him. A hum came to his lips, reverberating in the still room, thrumming against Ryou’s throat. He was content to let the moments pass easily. One hand toyed with a stray, sweat-dampened lock of hair – there was a drowsy mumble against his collarbone, warm nose tickling near his throat, and he smiled peacefully. Twisting subtly, he turned the man in his arms with a gentle nudge – an arm keeping the other close: the sheets were partially wound around their legs, but that was okay. A quick tug freed enough of the red-coloured cloth from the convenient, messy, folds around them to drape it over both men.
There was a questioning sound from the other, fingers flexing on his cooling skin, and Yugi smoothed it away with an affectionate brush of lips on his head, “It’s okay, Ryou. I’ll wake you up in the morning.”