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Pure crack, of the fluffy variety, for no reason except because I can.
Y/S-M/Y, or some variation thereof (what would you call that, sandwichshipping?) In character? What is this in character of which you speak? Warnings for consensual sexing stuffs, yaoi, voyeurism, advancing the timeline, willfully ignoring canon, crack, etc. Also please to be remembering that X-parrot is a gen writer for a reason, and has no business writing smut.
Seto, who had never had much opportunity to play hide and seek in the mansion, possibly had never figured out that the patterns of inset mirrors on the door of his study's linen closet were in fact one-way glass. That Gozaburo had been such a crazy, paranoid old bastard came in handy, now and again. The closet was big enough to keep a chair in, even.
It wasn't that Mokuba usually hid in the closet on the nights his brother dueled the pharaoh. As KaibaCorp's vice president, he was a very busy sixteen-year-old, and even if he opted to take the night off from work, he wasn't so needy that he couldn't find ways to entertain himself without his boyfriend.
But after the discussion with his brother two days ago, he had known what was at stake with this duel. Hence the closet.
Safely concealed and comfortable on his chair, Mokuba watched Seto announce his final attack, zeroing the pharaoh's life points by obliterating his last remaining monster—figuratively only, since they were playing classic style, cards on the long wooden table, no duel disks or holograms.
When it came to dueling, Seto and Yugi were almost perfectly matched in skill and decks, and in their private matches their wins to loses were a 50-50 split. Mokuba had decided some time ago that his brother must have gotten on the bad side of some god of luck, to always be on the losing end of their public duels. Considering how many mortals Seto successfully pissed off on a daily or even hourly basis, a grudge-holding deity was hardly an unreasonable postulation. It wasn't like the pharaoh would ever throw a game, after all; he was the only man on the planet as obsessed with the win as Mokuba's brother.
Though Yugi's other self might on occasion be playing by a different definition of win. Case in point being that he didn't look especially disheartened by tonight's loss. As Seto laughed triumphantly—one has to practice one's mad laughter, or else lose its edge—the pharaoh just smiled, gently shuffled his deck back together and placed it aside before standing. "So, Kaiba," he said, coming around the table to advance on Seto one smooth stride at a time. "What were the terms of tonight's wager? That the loser has to do what the winner...demands?"
"Anything, for the whole night," Seto said, pushing his own cards aside and turning in his chair to face his lover.
The pharaoh nodded, then dropped to one knee before him, lowered his head and purred, "So how would you command me, my lord Kaiba-sama?"
Mokuba bit down on his finger, partly to smother the snicker, partly because as much as he loved his boyfriend, had been drawn all along to the gentle strength of Yugi's wide-eyed, disingenuous impression of innocence, one couldn't deny the pharaoh's sharply savage sex appeal. Most especially on his knees.
He wasn't the only Kaiba vulnerable, either. While he was in the wrong position to see his brother's expression, he saw Seto's hand reached out to touch the pharaoh's face, a caress down the soft cheeks to the firmer angles of his jaw.
"Stand up," Seto said, low and as forceful as he would order one of his dragons to attack. The pharaoh rose, drawn up by the long fingers hooked under his chin, tilting his head back. Standing, he was still hardly taller than Seto seated. His slanted eyes were half-lidded, slivers of bloody purple-red fixed gleaming on his lover, as Seto's hands dropped to his shirt, undid the buttons and spread it open, pushing off the sleeves to bare the lean curves of his shoulders. Then he laid one hand on the golden puzzle resting against the pharaoh's chest.
"This is my command," Seto said, and hesitated, so briefly that Mokuba doubted even the pharaoh noticed. "You stay in here for the night. Let me have the other you."
The pharaoh stiffened, eyes snapping fully open. "My—you want—?"
"I already discussed it with Mokuba earlier, he doesn't have a problem with it."
"But he—Yugi—" His sputter wasn't nearly as seductively self-assured as before. Mokuba grinned at it anyway.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him."
"But tonight is—"
"Are you going back on your word?"
The pharaoh glared at his lover, such as he used to in their first duels, a look that suggested he was contemplating poking Seto's eyes out with the tip of his puzzle. "No," he said, with a dignity almost as obnoxious as a Kaiba's could be. "Give me a minute." He leaned back against the table, put his hands on the pyramid and closed his eyes, going motionless for a good thirty seconds while Seto waited with his arms crossed.
When he opened his eyes again, he was Yugi, blinking anxiously, such an adorable flutter of black lashes that Mokuba felt his face warming, a blush in the darkness like he was thirteen again. "Kaiba-kun?" Yugi asked, uneasily.
Yugi didn't talk much to Seto directly; usually the pharaoh preferred to take control for their interactions, for obvious reasons, and Yugi wouldn't prevent him unless he had reasons of his own for wanting their body, i.e. because Mokuba was there. And Mokuba knew his brother was a little different when he was around anyway.
Now Yugi adopted the nervous smile of someone trying to put on the best possible front before in-laws. "Is anything—er, is there something I can do for you, Kaiba-kun?"
Of course his brother was also different when the pharaoh was around. Yugi was really quite out of his depth here. "Maybe," Seto said, his smirk audible in his voice. He set his fingertips to the puzzle, running over the embossed eye. "Your other self explained?"
"He'd promised to do what you wanted. And you wanted..."
Seto's hand drifted up from the puzzle, nails tracing on Yugi's skin the shadows of the chain lying across his nude chest.
"Er—do you want to duel, Kaiba-kun?" Yugi asked, his voice an octave higher, trying to scramble back from that touch, only to be stopped by the corner of the table rammed against the small of his back.
"The cards aren't what I had in mind," Seto told him.
"But then...I mean, I'm—"
"Your other self agreed he would be mine tonight. Not just soul, but body," Seto said, coolly, his hand passing ticklingly light over Yugi's chest, brushing one nipple. Yugi hissed involuntarily and Mokuba in hiding shifted forward to the edge of his seat, knowing firsthand of that entertaining sensitivity. Whether the pharaoh shared any of those points, he didn't know, but his brother, naturally, would be quick to ascertain any advantage. "Would you renege on his promise?" Seto asked, and pushing aside the chair he bent forward to apply a silent kiss to Yugi's neck.
"But, Kaiba-kun—wait—" Yugi's voice was tremulous and he didn't seem to know where to put his hands, fluttering at his sides like uncertain moths. Mokuba had to swallow another snicker; certainly Yugi never had that problem with him. "What about Mokuba," Yugi breathed, "he—"
"Your other self should have told you. Mokuba and I discussed this," Seto said, and really only his brother could sound so fluently logical while in the middle of tracing the perfect arc of that collarbone with his tongue. Especially given the particular way Yugi was trying not to squirm. Mokuba didn't think he could be so articulate and he was just watching, nose pressed to the closet door.
"Mokuba truly doesn't have a problem...?"
"Do you think my brother would lie to me? He doesn't. Unless you do." That had the been the deal. Well, part of it, but the other part didn't involve Yugi anyway. "Are you having a problem with it?"
Seto's mouth reached the right nipple and whatever Yugi would have answered was expelled in an inarticulate gasp, his back arching as his eyes closed. One floating hand found the table edge and curled around it; the other finally came to rest on Seto's shoulder, curved around the base of his neck. Mokuba could see Yugi's lips moving, in that soundless way that he had; Mokuba had tried to read them before, but had never been able to understand any words. It might be another language. Probably a dead Egyptian one.
It was a good thing Mokuba did approve, or otherwise he might be obliged to assume the role of jealous lover and stab Yugi with a letter opener. Or his brother, more appropriately, because his boyfriend didn't stand a chance, not when Seto was this determined. Given the fish-cold front Seto often presented, Mokuba suspected that some of their acquaintances might be surprised by this side of his brother. Unless they considered his penchant for seeing everything in life as a game, and moreover a game that must be won at all costs. The pharaoh, of course, was the same way; their late-night contests proving their...prowess...could get quite loud. So it wasn't like Yugi hadn't known, but for all his gaming skill it was hardly his fault he lacked the pharaoh's experience.
Jealousy had never been an emotion Mokuba much understood anyway. He had always known his brother was a master at anything he chose to do; he wouldn't have been Seto if he weren't. Impossible to be jealous of that. Besides, why he shouldn't he...enjoy seeing two of the people he loved most in the world enjoying themselves?
Seto's hands glided down Yugi's sides, while his questing kisses took the slower route around the puzzle. Quick fingers undid the buckles of Yugi's doubled belts, blindly and surely, so the straps dropped down to his feet, and then the jeans' zipper purred metallically.
"Kaiba-kun," Yugi murmured, catching himself and swallowing. The hand on Seto's shoulder had slid up to back of his head, fingers netted in the brown hair.
"Up on the table," Seto said.
Seto rocked back on his heels, enough to cup his hands under Yugi's thighs and lift him bodily to sit on the edge of the tabletop. His grip on Seto's shoulder tightened as Yugi balanced himself, the surface high enough that even stretching his legs his toes didn't brush the floor.
"It's the right height," Seto said. "I don't need a crick in my neck all night."
"Experience," Seto explained succinctly. "Appearances to the contrary, he's not actually any taller than you in practice." He straightened up, so they were face-to-face; Mokuba could only see part of Yugi's face, with his brother in the way, leaning over Yugi's smaller figure with his hands set on the tabletop on either side of him. Yugi's violet eyes were fixed on Seto, huge with what might have been mistaken for fear, but Mokuba knew better. It wasn't any kind of fright that was making Yugi's heart pound now, so loud that Mokuba could almost hear it himself.
"Kaiba-kun..." Yugi said, "why did you..."
"Don't make this too easy for me," Seto murmured into his ear, barely loud enough for Mokuba to hear, even holding his breath. "You know I won't accept a thrown match." Then Seto knelt, long legs folding under him with spare grace, hands curving around Yugi's thighs to part them as his head dipped down.
"Ka—kai—ah—" Yugi managed to gasp, before his vocal chords gave out. His hand came back up to cup Seto's head again, as his own head tipped back, spine arching as his breaths accelerated to the quick, quiet pants Mokuba knew so well.
Though he had never had this point of view before, had never seen those violet eyes half-lidded, shaded by the ink black lashes, beating like a dreamer's, and his small mouth open, round and wet. He knew the feel of fingers combing through his own black mane, the pressure of that hand unconsciously guiding his efforts, but it was a wholly different thing to see those fingers threaded through Seto's thick brown hair. An amazing thing.
It was difficult, too, to feel a voyeur's guilt, not when they had an audience already. Above his brother's head the golden puzzle still hung around Yugi's neck, the engraved eye on the side gleaming under the lamplight.
All too soon Yugi's breath caught as he bit down on his bottom lip, the way he always did as he came, his fingers clenching, though Seto's hair was too short to be ensnarled in that grip. Mokuba leaned forward, blood pounding in his ears and pooling hotly under his own hand's strokes, a silent gasp on his own lips as Yugi's hips bucked up.
Finally Yugi sank down on the table again, leaning back on his braced arm, his legs dangling loosely, splayed around Seto's shoulders.
"Was that all?" Seto murmured, seemingly derisive, though there was a satisfied note in his rich voice that belied it. "I expected more of a challenge from you, Yugi."
Yugi shivered, entirely over his body, head to toes. "I'll t-try to give you a better one next time, Kaiba-kun..."
Seto rose, suddenly enough to almost knock Yugi off-balance, loomed over him pressing close. "I just had your dick in my mouth, you can drop the damn -kun."
Yugi's breath caught again. "Is that a command, Kaiba-ku—Kaiba?"
Mokuba could tell his brother frowned from the way his shoulders squared. "No. That's too much like him. Say Seto."
"Seto," Yugi repeated, deliciously dutiful. Then, almost shyly, "Do I sound that much like him?"
"Hardly." Seto caught his chin between his long fingers, raised his head for their eyes to meet. "And me. Do I remind you of my brother?"
Mokuba bit his tongue on the stab of curiosity and cocked his ear harder. "No," Yugi murmured, not regretfully and quite sure. "Not Mokuba. Not at all; you're so much more like..." His hand stroked down the slope of Seto's shoulder, and then he tipped forward to press a tentative kiss to his cheek.
"I thought so." Seto also leaned in, set his hands around Yugi's waist. "No, not at all," Seto drawled with lazy conviction, thumbs fitted to the hollows of his hips, as if to hold him in place while Yugi peppered quick light kisses along his jaw, down his neck. "Logically, the two of you should be indistinguishable. Same voice, same body. But you're another. A different self, even if I've seen you in his eyes before. But what can't be done him that can be done to you? Or is there no appreciable difference, Yugi?"
Yugi halted in his explorations, nuzzled into the juncture of his shoulder, shivered once more. "Th-that," he stammered. "D-do that again."
"No—ah—I mean, yes, that, too—please—but my name. The—the way you say my name, Kai—ah, Seto..." No adult man should be able to blush like that, not just his face, a rose hue spreading down over his shoulders, and Mokuba could just imagine the heat of it against his skin. And Seto paused, struck momentarily still.
Mokuba wasn't surprised himself—Yugi liked to talk after sex, all manner of unexpected admissions, and Mokuba liked to let him, drowsing in the afterglow and letting the flow of words send him off to sleep. So he had known what Yugi might say, if not whether his brother would actually get to hear it.
"Just say my name," Yugi said, and though he wasn't supposed to be issuing the commands, Seto unfroze, ducked his head to his ear.
"Only your name, Yuugi?" adding at least three extra syllables, and in such a low growl that Mokuba felt the bass thrum of it down through his gut. And Yugi made a sound the likes of which Mokuba had never heard out of his throat before, though he made a mental note to figure out how to elicit it himself at the next best opportunity.
"So what," Seto said, "shall I order now, Yugi?"
Yugi wrapped his arms around Seto's shoulders to pull him closer, put his lips to Seto's ear and whispered.
Seto nodded, then drew back enough to look over the table. "The bedroom, then. Don't want to accidentally knock this over, scatter our cards." But his head turned as he said it, tracking to the closet, and for an instant Mokuba almost thought those blue eyes were about to meet his—
It wasn't that Yugi moved, or even made a sound, but Mokuba felt the change, and Seto twisted back around to the body in his arms. Angled red-violet eyes peered back at him.
"I thought so!" Seto snapped, letting go. "What was the wager?"
"Er," the pharaoh said, "excuse me, I'll be going right back to obeying, I swear. Just wanted to make sure you were getting on all right." He slid off the table, compact feline grace even in that brief movement, spread his arms and looked down at his dishabille and sweat-slicked self with a terribly tempting lack of shame. "Looks well enough, I'll just be getting back into the puzzle, then..."
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Seto rolled his eyes, grabbed him roughly and shoved him back against the table, hip to hip. "Goodbye. Good night. See you tomorrow," he said, and saw him off with a bruising kiss, which when it broke left Yugi standing there, swollen-lipped and astonished, though not unpleasantly so.
"Maybe..." Yugi said, "if you wouldn't mind, Seto," and grasping the puzzle's chain he drew it over his head, setting the gold pyramid down carefully on the table. "It should be safe here. Just for tonight."
Seto stared at the puzzle for just long enough to prove he was startled. Mokuba was himself; Yugi had taken the puzzle off only a handful of times with him. And not their first time, though as that had been the first time for both of them, perhaps he had needed the moral support.
Which wasn't required tonight, apparently. Yugi twined an arm around his brother's waist, and Seto ducked to catch his kiss, and the two of them proceeded into the bedroom, Seto shutting the lights off and closing the door behind them, one-handed and without looking.
Mokuba waited a minute, then cautiously opened the closet door. There was enough light from the hallway for him to see his way, and the puzzle glinted in it as he passed by, in a lonely way.
The eye on the pyramid was facing him. Mokuba grinned, blew it a goodnight kiss. "See you tomorrow!"
Tonight they would both be sleeping alone, but tomorrow night—tomorrow night would be his turn with the pharaoh. That had been the deal he had proposed to his brother, after all. And Seto, like both of Yugi's selves, always kept his word.
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