Butterflies

A/N: This is, as the summary says, a Joey/Seto songfic (and yes, those ARE in the right order). It contains lemon, mention of rape (child molestation), thoughts of suicide, and loads of other great things I've probably forgotten to mention. ^_^ Bear in mind that this is my first lemon (be gentle!), and please leave reviews! Flame only if you can back it up, though... otherwise, we'll hold your fifty grammar mistakes up for the world to laugh at ~_^.

Disclaimer: The song belongs to Natalie Imbruglia, the characters belong to whoever owns YGO. I own the plot, that's all! ^_^

Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, references to pedophilic rape... I believe that's it!

Butterflies

Swallow purple terror candy,
don't forget to breathe,

Joey's POV

There he is again. Quickly, almost unconsciously, I pop my last piece of gum into my mouth, nearly forgetting to take off the wrapper first. Great thinking, Wheeler, I scold myself as the synthesized grape flavor assaults my taste buds. I hate the taste of these things, but chewing something is the only that will calm me down at times like these, and if I were to eat something every time I got nervous... well, being that I see him at least five times a day, I'd be a whale within the week. So the crappy, plastic-and-grape tasting gum it is, then.

I force my face into a defiant glare as those deadly, yet oh-so-entrancing midnight eyes pass over me. It's strange, the way he looks at me. Some days, there's nothing but contempt behind his glare, and others, he looks almost as though he's measuring me up, as one would a respected adversary, or a stranger. I chuckle under my breath, covering it up by snapping my gum loudly. I know how much that annoys him, and it earns me another of those strained, angry glances.

I live for moments like these, knowing I've gotten to him. Serves the icy bastard right, if you ask me. For all the times he's gotten under my skin, I deserve a chance to get back at him. My antagonistic side fuelled by that train of thought, I jog past him, snapping my gum once again as my knee clips his ever-present briefcase, sending it swinging slowly in his iron grip, and those crystal orbs narrow even more at me.

Nobody could ever guess by my behavior just how hard the butterflies are slamming into the walls of my stomach right about now. Now, and every other time I'm within sight of him.

Sickened by the wanting,
and drowning from the need,

It's terrible just how obsessed I am with him. If my friends knew, I'd be branded as a nut job for life, and sent off somewhere for the mentally challenged, as they're called now. Take right now, for instance. I'm sitting in Math class, watching the exasperated teacher try to explain trigonometry to a bunch of bleary-eyed teenagers, but my mind's not on the parade of shapes moving to the right of the blackboard. Oh, no, my ever-useful brain thinks it's imperative to conjure fantasy after distracting fantasy, all featuring the Ice King in various states of undress, compromising positions, or combinations of both. One of the latter, a picture of the great dragon completely stripped and bound to a crimson-covered bed by fur-lined leather bindings, dances across my mind's eye, and I can feel my body reacting in what my mind considers a far too positive manner to this newest daydream.

As hot as I consider these fantasies, though, they make me physically ill at times. I mean, this guy is my worst enemy, and probably straight as a damn arrow besides. I'm sure it's not exactly normal to want to drag him into the nearest janitor's closet so we can fuck like bunnies. Hmm... bunny ears might be a good addition to that last one... maybe one of those fluffy tails too...

I sigh, casually shifting my closed notebook to my lap. And Yug' can't figure out why I bother bringing the damn thing to class when I never write anything down.... if he only knew, his hair would probably stand up even straighter on end.

I should really be paying attention.... eh, maybe next time.

This dichromatic vision,
Of one who does not care,

Seto's POV

I am the first one out of my seat at the bell, as always. About the only person more anxious to get out than me is the damn furless dog, but he's far too slow to even keep up with me most days. Today, however, with his typical poise, he slams right into my back, breaking my stride and sending himself to the ground.

"Watch where you're going, mutt," I growl, and he stares up at me blankly. It's not as though I really care he bumped into me, you must understand. It's obviously a bigger problem for him, being that I'm the one who's still on my feet, and he's sprawled out on the classroom floor with his books around him. No, I couldn't care less about the mishap itself, but I do have a reputation to keep up, after all, and that reputation dictates that I must react to this with my usual icy demeanor, instead of shrugging it off. Being a rock sure sucks, but at least it's familiar to me. Hell, I've been doing it ever since the old man went down to join all the other sinners in the inferno. What else do I know?

Not that I care or anything, of course, I tell myself as I push open the school doors roughly, walking quickly to my limo and getting in. I'm better off numb, at least with this life.

To sipping cocktail sedatives,
Two months to hide somewhere.

At precisely 9:04 PM, Domino time, I burst in the front door of my elaborate mansion, the noise of the door making contact with the wall and the whistling of the autumn wind breaking the quiet of the formerly still mansion. Mokuba, curled up in a blanket on the couch, gives a tiny start as his eyes crack open.

"Hey, Seto," he mumbles sleepily, and I toss my briefcase on the couch, flopping down raggedly in the closest chair. "What's wrong?"

"You're not going to believe this," I say, staring into the flickering fireplace. "They want me to take a vacation from the office! Me, Seto Kaiba, CEO of the damn company, taking a two-month vacation!! It's ludicrous!"

My little brother bites his bottom lip nervously, and I can see a private battle being waged behind his sleep-fogged eyes. "Well, big brother..." he replies, "..maybe that's not such a bad idea."

I pin him down with an incredulous look that scares him more than any screaming fit ever could. "Whose side are you on, Mokuba?" I demand.

"Yours, Seto, always!" he says, and the force of his conviction drives him to leap into a sitting position. "Still, though, everybody needs some time off, and you haven't had any since... you took over the company, I suppose." Neither of us like to remember the unpleasant details that lead to that takeover, but his words have brought it all right back. I hate the fact that I was unable to shield him from that, but it was necessary if we were ever to escape the old man. I wouldn't change a single moment, but that doesn't mean I don't regret any of it.

Suddenly, a colossal fatigue comes over me, and my shoulders slump. God, I'm exhausted. When did I last get a full night's sleep? "Perhaps you're right, Mokuba," I yawn widely. "Get up to bed, okay? We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

I can see that he wants to talk about it now, but I know he's at least as tired as I am. "Okay, Seto." he nods obediently, coming over and kissing me softly on the cheek. "Good night," he calls over his shoulder, dragging the blanket along behind him.

After brooding a short while longer, I decide to call it a night. Unfortunately, no amount of tossing and turning is enough to put me to sleep, and I sit upright in bed, more than a little frustrated. What did I expect, though? I haven't been able to get to sleep on my own since...

Drowsily, I drag myself out of bed and shuffle over to the dresser, unlocking the bottom drawer and pulling out the brandy and some rather large pills. Contrary to popular belief, the reason I don't get enough rest is not because I'm a total workaholic. No, but ironically enough, another addiction is to blame. When my adoptive father died, I began to have recurrent nightmares that interfered with my functioning in more than a minor way. The shrink prescribed me some sleeping pills, but unfortunately, she started me off on something far too strong. I grew so dependent on them that I can no longer sleep even ten minutes without one, and now, for any kind of noticeable effect, I have to perpetuate their effects with alcohol.

Grimacing at the foul taste, I knock back a few of the caplets with the searing, thick liquid. I hate what I've become, needing drugs to achieve one of the most basic human faculties, but some nights, even I need some rest. Slamming the bottle down, I crawl back into the inviting silk bedding and wait for the darkness to blot out all conscious thought.

Just before I drift off, though, a question that I am thoroughly unable to answer floats through my mind. What am I going to do with all this extra time?

Butterflies, Butterflies, cut the stomach out and hand it over,
Butterflies, Butterflies, my heart will be the bridge that you walk over.

Joey's POV--Two weeks later

That can't be who I think it is... damn it, it is, and me without my gum! Crap... I never leave home without it if there's even the slightest chance that I'm going to see him, but I didn't think rich, snotty businessmen walked through this park, and it's too late to duck out of sight or run back to the corner store I passed a while back. Just as well; I don't think I have enough change in my pockets for a pack of gum anyway.

Ugh... he's spotted me. Here comes the glare... stupid butterflies are back again. Hey... wait a minute... why is he just walking by me? "Hey, Kaiba!"

He stiffens visibly, spinning around on his heel with a glazed look in his eyes. I laugh inwardly. Who looks like the puppy now, Kaiba? "What, you don't acknowledge me now?" I say it jokingly, hiding just how much it's tearing me up inside that he might not even insult me anymore.

I expect him to glare at me, utter some scathing remark, or maybe even spit at me. He did once, after a particularly vicious fistfight. I most certainly don't expect him to turn back the way he was going and walk away without so much as a second glance. My eyes cloud over; is this it? He won't even be in my life as an enemy anymore? "Fine, just walk away, like the rich fucking coward you are!" The vehemence of my words is a far cry from the helpless pain I'm feeling, but not even this most foul of underhanded insults is enough to make him look back at me.

A icy gust of wind blows through the park, and I clutch my jacket tighter around me as I watch him walk away. Rejection never stung so bad.

The wolf has caught the chicken,
And now I feel unsteady.

What is this that I feel for him? Something I think is hatred... a more-than-healthy lust, definitely... and something else, something that only he makes me feel. A need to be better, to be good enough. A desire for his attention, for his crumbs of acknowledgement, rare and small as they may be. God... sometimes, I would kill for just one kiss from him, and others, I want to tear him limb from arrogant limb. I hate this feeling, but at the same time, it sustains me.

Sometimes I think he does this on purpose, drawing me in and pushing me away. I worry about him, you know. He pushes himself so hard, and he doesn't really have anyone to vent on when it gets to be too much for him except for Mokuba, who he's too busy shielding to let into the fortress he's built around his heart. I used to say that he deserved whatever he got, but even if he wasn't the product of his own twisted hell of a life, nobody deserves that kind of existence.

I stare up at the sky blankly, flopping down on a nearby bench and interlacing my fingers behind my head. I wish... oh, I don't even know what to wish for anymore. Should I wish for him to love me, or at least open up to me? Should I wish for his happiness, whether that picture includes me or not?

"I wish that people weren't so damn stubborn," I mutter to the languidly moving clouds overhead, letting my arms fall to rest on the back of the bench as I sigh heavily.

Emotions on the blink again,
So kick me when you're ready.

Seto's POV

I stop as soon as I turn the corner, leaning against a particularly thick oak tree and slowly slinking down to rest on the dry grass. Why didn't I say anything to him? Normally, I find it a challenge to choose which insult to fling at him next, but this time, my mind went totally blank. I saw his confident facade, the billowing hurt rising to cloud his beautiful amber orbs, his shoulders slump ever so slightly as I turned to leave, and I did nothing but walk away. Why?

For the longest time, I've lived like an island and never questioned it, never wondered whether or not I could have something more. Then, he came into my life, my polar opposite. Where I was weak, he was strong. Where I was poor, he was rich, and where I had failed, he was a radiant success. He turned my entire perception of the world upside down without a clue, just by being himself, and I didn't even realize it until this moment, after I've wounded him more deeply with my silence than with any verbal jab.

I can see it all so clearly now; wanting to be the best at Duel Monsters, my need to see him lose time and again... it was all because I couldn't accept that someone had achieved a better life than I had where it actually mattered. He has friends, a relationship with his sister that is leagues beyond mine with Mokuba, no responsibility, a beauty all his own, and for all his tough airs, his innocence. How I envy him all of that... especially the latter.

I push this train of thought into the back of my mind, derailing it before it can make me lose my nerve. There'll be plenty of time to feel guilty once I've accomplished what I came to do, but I refuse to allow anything, including Joseph Wheeler, to distract me from what I swore I would do today.

Resolutely, I push myself to my feet, dusting my trench coat off. Time to face this, the same way I do everything; head-on, fearlessly. What have I to lose, after all, but my mortal soul?

Here lies a violet coffin,
The death of my control.

The wrought iron gate creaks softly behind me as I enter the mausoleum, final resting place for all those who bear the cursed surname 'Kaiba'. It's quite far removed from the rest of the graveyard, so there's no chance of my being disturbed or worse, overheard. My secrets are between me and the dead, not some ignorant passers-by, and as long as I have a say in it, that's how things will remain.

I move to the end of the aisle, trying not to look at the spaces reserved for Mokuba and I. Seeing our names and birth dates etched in that stone always sends shivers down my spine; I hate being reminded of my own mortality, but I especially loath being reminded of his. It's hard to believe that same carefree child that idolizes me, that leaps into my arms when I come home from work and kisses me good night will one day be lying here beside me, his earthly remains slowly decaying into nothing. I don't even want to think about it.

Steeling myself, my fist clenched painfully, I turn to face the varnished oak coffin to my left. After all these years, I can still see his body, laid out in this same violet-lined box. He was sent off like a damn king, all royal blue and purple, when what he really was at his core was lower than dirt. Yes, he built Kaiba Corp out of the ground, but the measure of a man is not his results, but the path by which he arrives at them.

Gozaburo. Even now, the name sends a spike of nausea straight to my gut, a lance composed of equal parts fear and rage. I destroyed him myself, crushed his throat and threw him from his ivory tower for good measure, but it wasn't nearly enough to undo the years of pain and damage he caused me and my brother, to a much lesser extent. At least Gozaburo's life, I was able to protect Mokuba from, if not his death. It was the easiest choice I ever made; my brother's happiness for my own.

Along with all my skeletons,
They put them in the hole.

I had hoped it would all end once he was dead and buried. I had hoped that Mokuba and I would be left alone to heal, perhaps even to grow, but unfortunately for us, life's never easy. I was duped into taking over Kaiba Corp, seduced by its power and prestige, and my little brother was left by himself, surrounded by servants and false friends. He learned not to trust very quickly, and while I recognize the need for someone in his position to be slightly jaded about human nature, I wish it hadn't had to come to that.

My own life was another matter. Try as I might to forget it, the details of my dark past would not leave me alone. By day, I worked myself to the bone trying to meet the demands imposed upon me by the joint taskmasters of school and work, and by night, I relived my private hell with Gozaburo. Every painful beating, every harsh reprimand, every savage rape... I lived through them all every night in my dreams, waking up drenched in sweat, only to curl up with a pillow and await the sunrise anxiously, when it all would begin again. Days became weeks, and weeks turned into months... after a particularly bad stretch of the worst nightmares yet, I bit the bullet and went to the psychiatrist who got me hooked on those sleeping pills. Ever since, I have been running away from the memories of Gozaburo by any means necessary; burying myself in work, most of the time, and blotting out the real world with the pills at others. It's worked fine, until now.

Now that I'm on vacation from work, supposedly relaxing, I find there's nothing else to hide behind. I'm taking more and more of the pills, spending most of my free days in bed with the brandy and a supply of the caplets on my nightstand, knocking myself out again as soon as the lasse wse wears off. How long before I give in, and OD? No more; it ends here.

"You can't hurt me anymore," I growl, clenching my fist ever tighter. "You're dead and gone. Your body is rotted, your soul tortured in Hell. You have ceased to exist, Gozaburo Kaiba, and I have survived you. All that you tried to do to me; the beatings... the slander..." I can feel my voice thickening. No... I've got to be strong this time. I open my mouth to speak, but I can hardly bring myself to recall the image of him tearing at my clothes, beating me into submission, and taking me until I cried, screamed, begged him for mercy, much less put the wretched experience into words.

Wake up, Kaiba, the rational part of my brain orders sternly. If you're going to get through this, you've gotta bury it with the old man. I know this; I've told it to myself time and again, but I just can't do it. God help me, I can't get past this! After all the years of running away, it's grown too big for me to face alone.

"Damn you!" I shout, slamming my fist down onto the oaken casket. It doesn't budge, and I fall to my knees, forcing myself not to cry. I can't do what I came to do; put my skeletons to rest with him. I'm so alone, so overwhelmed, and there's no one I can turn to... no one at all...

Suddenly, it comes to me, like the ray of hope shining out of the darkness of Pandora's Box. I drag my sleeve across my face roughly once, and storm from the mausoleum, heading down the hill, back to Domino. The gate slams shut behind me, but I'm already too far away to hear it, and too far gone to care.

Butterflies, Butterflies, cut the stomach out and hand it over,
Butterflies, Butterflies, my heart will be the bridge that you walk over.

Joey's POV

I'm sitting on my old couch, my feet up on the hopelessly filthy coffee table as I dig out another tasteless hunk of ice cream from the now-lukewarm container in my lap and stuff it into my mouth, the metallic taste of the spoon blending with the positively repugnant flavor of processed sugar and chocolate flavoring to create a wholly disgusting product. It dulls the pain and the worry, though, so I guess it's not all bad.

My dad's out for the time being, probably at some seedy bar again, squandering his paycheck. I can pick out at least ten things in this place that that money could go a long way towards improving, or even replacing in some cases, but I learned long ago that picking a fight with my father about his alcohol problem is a sure invitation to being beaten so badly that it would be impossible to hide from anyone the next day. So I do the best I can with what I have, and close my eyes to that which is beyond my meager power. No point in reaching any higher.

A firm knock on the door jars me out of my reverie, and I groan under my breath, lowering the television. The only visitors we ever get are bill collectors, and I really don't feel like dealing with one of those right now. They're always so nasty, I usually fight fire with fire and let my old man take care of them. If that's not an option, I just pretend we're out. They usually go away after a while, unless they hear any noise. Then, our doorstep suddenly turns into a campground.

After ten minutes of sitting quietly, though, the knocking hasn't abated, and taking my half-melted snack with me, I stomp over to the door. Don't these people have families to spend weekends with? I ask myself, taking another mouthful of the ice cream for courage as I slide back the chain lock and fling open the door. "This had better be..."I begin, my voice garbled, but instead of the cheap suit and horn-rimmed glasses that bill collectors usually favor, entrancing midnight eyes fill my sight, rooting me to the spot.

I gulp down the ice cream quickly, wincing as it hits my stomach with the force of a roundhouse punch. Hello, butterflies.

"Well, mutt, are you planning on inviting me in, or would you like to see how many flies you can catch with that open mouth first?" His tone's obviously meant to sound elitist, but if you ask me, the redness around his eyes and the not-so-confident way he's leaning against the doorframe tell me all I need to know about his current state.

Setting the ice cream down on the nearest flat surface, I step back from the door and wave him over to the couch. I watch him glance around the apartment strangely, as though he had just been transported to another world, before he nods and settles himself down in the place I just vacated. Fumbling with our ancient and nearly shattered remote control, I turn off the television and sit down next to him, making sure to keep an entire cushion as neutral ground between us. All those visits with the social worker weren't completely wasted; I did learn some counseling protocol, and I have no doubt in my mind that, for one warped reason or another, that's what he's here for. "What brings you here, Kaiba?" I ask softly, and his eyes search mine for any sign that I might be patronizing him or something. Satisfied that I'm not, he sits back, staring at the positively sickening linoleum.

"I needed to talk to somebody." he admits at length, and I nod slowl
\
"Not that I'm not flattered and all, because I am," I reply, "but why me? I mean, aren't we like... enemies, or something?" Enemies... that's a laugh. The last time I really meant one of those insults... actually, I don't remember ever meaning a single one. There's enmity for you.

He scoffs at my elementary reasoning. "You're right," he says, "but who else was I going to turn to? Yugi? Ryou? Tristan? Heaven forbid, Tea?" He shakes his head and chuckles at the last part. "Like it or not, mutt, you're my last resort."

I almost mention Mokuba, but catch myself just in time. Of course he wouldn't burden his little brother, whom he 's sworn to protect, with his own problems. What brought the whole thing on in the first place, however, and does it really matter at this point? "All right, Kaiba, I'll listen," I say haughtily, pretending that I'm doing him a favor when it's very much the other way around. "One condition, though. I want you to drop the act." He looks at me strangely, pretending to be unsure what I'm talking about. "You heard me. The 'I'm superior and invincible and nothing can ever touch me' act. Not that I can't see right through it," I wink, "but it does get tiresome."

He gives a sigh that's really more of a shu, an, and his shoulders slump as he folds his hands in his lap, eyes fixed on me. The tragic beauty of that gaze alone makes me want to keep him, makes me want to be beside him forever, but I push that train of thought into the scrap heap. "There we are," I say, throwing one arm carelessly over the back of the couch. "Whenever you're ready."

The sapphire-eyed dragon next to me licks his lips nervously and runs a hand through his short auburn locks. Never seen him do that before. God, I wonder if that hair's as soft as it looks, or if he tastes as good as I've imagined... Mentally, I slap myself. He's here for help, nothing else. Be glad he's letting you have that much. "I..." he begins, shaking his head. "Today, I went..." Another shake of his head. "Gozaburo's grave..." A roar of frustration shakes his entire frame as he slams his fist down on the coffee table, spilling the ice cream all over the place. "Goddamn it! Why is this so hard?"

In a heartbeat, I find myself next to him, my hand in his, not even noticing the brown liquid pooling on the floor. Just another stain on an already unspeakable rug. "Hey, relax, okay?" I whisper, and his gaze locks with mine. I do my best to keep my gaze soft and unthreatening, and eventually, those azure eyes flick down to our hands, clasped on the couch between us. I fully expect him to tear his away, but to my infinite surprise, his grip tightens around my fingers almost painfully, and when he looks up again, his eyes are clouding over with unshed tears.

"Thank you," he says. "Not that I deserve the time of day from you..." He smiles sadly, and I find myself returning the gesture with what I consider a vacant grin. "I'm so sorry for before."

I wave his apology off with my free hand. "Don't worry about it," I reply. "You're obviously going through a lot of shit right now." I cock my head to the side a bit, much like the puppy he's always comparing me to. "Still want to talk?"

He nods quickly, as though afraid he's going to lose his nerve, and his grip on my hand remains strong. A surge of desire courses through me, but I beat it back with a wave of reason as he begins once more. "I went to Gozaburo's grave today," he manages to get out, and I nod. Complete sentences, there's a start. "It was the first time since..." he swallows hard, and I fight the urge to finish his sentence for him. "...since I killed him." Noticing my quizzical look, he shakes his head vehemently. "I don't regret that, you must understand. Not one second."

I nod in assent, motioning for him to continue, and another shudder passes through his body. "I went there today to put some old demons to rest," he continues. "But I couldn't... I just couldn't..." He trails off, and I suddenly become conscious that his grip has cut off circulation in my fingers. Small price to pay for holding Seto Kaiba's hand, if you ask me.

"What demons, Kaiba?" I hear my worried, thin voice asking.

He looks up at me, then promptly back down again. "My father.. Gozaburo..." he sighs, and I can tell he's fighting tears again. "...he used to beat me, call me a worthless good-for-nothing bastard if I was anything less than perfect..." He interlaces his fingers with mine, and I'm grateful for both the respite and the closer contact, though the knowledge that there's more to the story that he hasn't said hangs between us. I wait patiently, holding his hand gingerly, as though he's made of porcelain. If you ask me, he's far more precious than that junk.

"He also..." Every word is a trial for him now, but he's facing it bravely. That's our Kaiba; strong to the last. "Oh God, Joey..." his voice has dropped to the lowest whisper, but I don't miss his first use of my name in what I consider forever. "Every day for almost three years..." he murmurs, and his grip once again becomes tighter than a vice. I squeeze back, trying to bolster his strength with some of my own. "God, Joey, he raped me. Over and over again..." A great sob is torn from his lips at this revelation, but no tears follow it. Just how tough is this man? "I offered myself..." he explains, his eyes frantically searching mine for something that I can't identify. "...offered myself to save Mokuba.... he doesn't know..." Suddenly, he lets my hand drop and leaps to his feet, and I follow suit, terrified that I've done something wrong.

"Kaiba..." I start, but he holds up a quivering hand, and I stop. I can only imagine what that must have taken out of him, revealing that secret after so many years.

"Don't..." he growls, and I find myself genuinely scared. "Don't you dare pity me! Who are you, a fucking gutter rat? How dare you judge me! I am the great Seto Kaiba! I... I am...."

I force myself to ignore the erratic tirade, moving forward and taking his hand again. He doesn't stop me this time, and gradually, the shaking subsides. "Please, Kaiba..." I beg. "Let me help you."

He scoffs and twists out of my grip. "Why?" he demands. "Why would you want to help me? Why in the name of fucking Almighty Christ would you give a shit about me?"

"Because I love you, you fucking baka!" My own outburst shocks me, and I cover my mouth in surprise as his eyes grow wider than I've ever seen them.

"You're lying," he stutters incredulously. "You're a fucking liar! Who could ever... who could ever love this?" He gestures to himself, and I know he means his body, his tarnished soul. "Who..." he begins again, but I cut him off at the pass.

"Me." I growl as I pull him down by the lapels of his trench coat and drink the fury right from his lungs.

Sickened by the notion,
I give myself again.

Seto's POV

A growl somehow makes its way up through the tumult of emotions twisting and turning in the pit of my stomach, but I can't find the courage to push him away, or even to respond to the kiss, my very first one to boot. How dare he... oh, but he tastes so good, just like chocolate... no, come to think of it, he tastes far sweeter than that bitter crap. Would it really be so awful to admit I want to be here, kissing him right now?

His lips brush mine one final time as he releases me from his surprisingly strong grip. "I love you, Seto Kaiba." he reiterates, and my heart beats just the slightest bit faster as I notice the faintest blush staining his cheeks. Oh, but this is wrong, so wrong. So wrong it's gotta be right, I finish for myself as I crush his lithe form to mine and force my tongue into his all-too-willing mouth, running it along the roof of his mouth before meeting his in a duel far more satisfying than any Duel Monsters match. I must be doing something right, because soon, he's moaning softly as his fingers run through my hair, trying to pull my head closer to his, as though such a feat were even possible. God, I never thought a simple kiss could be so... intimate?

About ten seconds later, we break off, gasping for air, and I reach my left hand around to the back of his head, touching our foreheads together as we both catch our breath. "Do you... mean that...?" I ask, panting heavily.

His amber eyes, glazed with lust and longing, blink quickly as his mind tries to process the question. At length, he nods. "I wasn't sure before..." he says softly, "..but now I am. I love you so much more than those words could ever say..." With a joyful sob, he kisses my cheek and envelops me in a bone-crushing hug. "I never thought... this could happen..." he manages to get out before breaking down, and I stroke his back languidly, comfortingly. God help me, I love him too, but for some reason, I can't say those three little words he's probably dying to hear.

Finally, he looks back up at me and drags an arm across his face with a sniffle. "I'm so sorry, Seto..." he murmurs, and I'm shocked to hear my first name roll off his tongue so reverently, as though he were addressing a god. "So sorry for all you've had to go through... no friends, Kaiba Corp..." he hesitates before adding the last block to the stack. "Gozaburo," he finishes at last, and that name reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place, still completely unresolved.

"I want to help you," he continues, his eyes never leaving mine and his arms never relaxing their hold. "but I have no idea how, or where to start, or..." His crying threatens to start up again, and I kiss him fleetingly. I appreciate his desire to help, but what can he do to make this any better? Talking about it might have earned me a new boyfriend and a temporary reprieve, but I harbor no delusions that Gozaburo's specter will be haunting me again the minute I'm alone with my thoughts. What else can he do, except...

The very thought pierces my heart like an arrow, but at the same time, I know it's my only hope to stop the nightmares for good. Holding him out at arm's length, I lock my eyes with his increasingly fearful ones. "There is one way," I begin, and he suddenly nods vigorously.

"Anything!" he affirms, and I frown at his exuberance, purely out of habit.

"I want you to take me." His grin disappears, and a look of sincere concern becomes etched on those beautiful features. He opens his mouth to objectt I t I don't give him the opening. "Please, Joey. It's most definitely a long shot... but perhaps, if I have some memories of that experience that don't involve him... they'll overpower the ones that do." I trail the back of one hand down his exquisite cheek. "What have we got to lose?"

Vehemently, he shakes his head. "But... Seto, this could totally backfire!" he protests. "Suppose... suppose I hurt you, or this only intensifies your bad memories..." One last tear falls, landing on my fingertips as I cup his chin gently. "I can't risk you like that, on a shot in the dark," he finishes.

Leaning down, I kiss his forehead lovingly. "Do you love me?" I ask.

He blinks confusedly at me. "Seto..."

"Do you love me?" I repeat, narrowing my eyes slightly.

He hunches his shoulders for a moment, then meets my gaze bravely. "Yes, I love you," he says.

"Then you could never hurt me, at least not in this ca" I " I do my best to keep the fear out of my voice as I plead with him. "Please, Joey... I want you to be the one to fix this. I'm so damn tired of licking my own wounds, and this is the only way."

"I don't trust myself with something this important," he replies, and I truly smile at him for the first time.

"I trust you enough for both of us," I say with finality, stepping back from him in order to eliminate any distractions on my part while he's making this all-important decision. "I'm offering myself to you," I tell him, extending my arms out to both sides. "Do you want me, Joseph Wheeler?"

It takes him an agonizing eight seconds, but finally, he clears the distance between us and buries his face into my shoulder again. "Yes," he answers, and I sigh inwardly. Now comes the hard part.

I allow myself to be led into his messy bedroom by one hand and watch amusedly as he sweeps assorted junk off the rather small twin bed with a curse. Once the coast is clear, so to speak, he comes back to me, kissing me softly as he slides my trench coat from my shoulders to pool around my feet. I step out of it, intentionally deepening the kiss as I go, my left hand running through the golden strands of his unkempt hair and my right exploring the muscular planes of his absolutely perfect chest.

With a barely audible whimper, he breaks our kiss, his strong yet delicate hands fumbling with the buttons on my dress shirt. I can see he's getting frustrated, and I cover his hands with my own, guiding them in their seemingly impossible work. Between the two of us, my shirt is hanging open within seconds, and I can hear the sharp intake of breath as he admires my lean, toned physique.

"Gods, you're so beautiful." he whispers to me, and I shrug the undone garment onto the floor with the trench coat before lifting his plain white t-shirt over his head smoothly, exposing his upper body to my ravenous gaze.

An endearing blush tints my sweet puppy's cheeks as I stare at him. "I know I'm not much compared to you," he sighs, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment.

Chuckling to myself at his distorted self-image, I lean down to suckle gently on the column of his throat, licking around and finally moving down to the pulse point. "I think..." I say between kisses, ".that you... are quite possibly... the most desirable thing... on the face of the planet." As I finish, I look up, locking his beautiful golden eyes with mine as I nip fleetingly at his bottom lip, just on the edge of pain. He swallows hard, and letting my hands glide over his bare chest, I slowly lower us down to the bed, taking my weight on my forearms so as not to crush him as my lips and tongue move across his collarbone to his right shoulder, drawing delicious little keening sounds from him all the while.

Impatiently, he pulls me back up, renewing our fevered kissing, and I grind my clothed arousal against his, a groan torn from both our throats as waves of pleasure shoot up my spine. With the exuberance of a starving man, I attack his left nipple, alternating between short, almost imperceptible licks and nibbling on the rapidly hardening bud, each action making him shift under me, moaning ever so softly. I'm going to make you scream my name before I'm done, Joey Wheeler, I vow as I repeat my ministrations on the right side of his body, the desperate way he fists his hands in the sheets not going unnoticed or unappreciated by me.

Soon enough, my tongue's tracing the firm ridges of his six-pack abs, dipping into his navel every so often, driving him almost insane with anticipation. "Gods, Seto!" he hisses, twisting around fruitlessly under my larger form. Slowly, reveling in every second of the experience, I slide back up to kiss his lips, the delicious friction of our bare chests rubbing against each other like nothing I've ever felt before. He thrusts his lower body up against mine as I plunder his mouth, and I decide he's had enough teasing for now.

Rolling onto my side, careful not to send myself over the edge of the bed, I fumble with the button on his jeans for a few seconds before sliding the confining item of clothing from his slim body and tossing it haphazardly out of my way, taking a moment to admire his sweet beauty once more. His entire upper body is glistening with sweat and the aftermath of my explorations, and his face is flushed, as though he's just run the fifty-meter dash. By the time this is over, I chuckle to myself as I kiss his lips once more, I plan to make you look like you've just run the entire marathon.

My left hand closes arohis his straining hardness through his boxers, and he arches into the contact with a cry. Then, those too are gone, and my golden puppy is lying before me, completely stripped. My breath catches in my throat, and I have to fight the urge to drool over this incredible, indescribably gorgeous creature whose bed I'm sharing. Grinning widely, just to spite him, I give his manhood a few slow strokes before moving down to take it into my mouth.

I'm certainly not prepared for the reaction that this earns me, although I can't say I'm not pleased by it. His hands unclench from the sheets just long enough to fist themselves in my hair, and he begins to whimper my name repeatedly. "Seto... oh God, Seto, don't... don't stop...don't ever stop."

I grin even more broadly at his inability to form complete sentences as I kiss my way down the shaft, licking all the way back up to his sensitive tip and engulfing it once more. His taste is absolutely intoxicating, a drug in itself. Desperate for more, I force myself to accommodate the whole of his ample length before I begin to suck in earnest, feeling him thrash around and thrust his hips as I do so. If h enj enjoying this half as much as I am, this reaction is entirely justified.

Though I lose all sense of time as I continue my glorious task, it isn't too long before his thrusts begin to become more urgent, his grip on my short brown locks unyielding, and reluctantly, I rise up from his throbbing arousal, brushing my cheek against it apologetically as I push myself back to his eye level and kiss him sweetly, sharing his own taste with him.

He breaks it this time, lust-filled amber eyes doing their best to glare at me. "Why'd you stop?' he asks softly, and I know he's afraid he's done something wrong.

I kiss his forehead, his face, his throat reassuringly. "Because I believe it's time I surrendered to you," I reply, and against every instinct in my body, I lean back and wait for him to take control.

He does, evidently intent on teasing me as much as I did him. His ministrations are slightly less coordinated and graceful than mine, but his enthusiasm more than makes up for that. I am vaguely aware of hearing a chorus of thin moans as he goes to work on my collarbone, but it's only once his mouth closes around my right nipple that I recognize them as my own. As though I'm in a trance, I run my fingers through his hair, caressing his face lovingly through the haze of pleasure his actions are weaving around me. God, if I'm this far gone now, I don't want to think about what's going to happen next.

Before long, he arrives at my dress pants and, smiling devilishly up at me, begins to massage my full-blown erection through the dual layer of pants and boxers. It's an effort to breathe as he proceeds to take me to the edge and allow me to come back down only to begin again, never granting me relief from the constricting garments. As I feel myself approaching climax for the third time, my hand closes around his wrist, and he looks up at me, panting slightly. To my surprise, I realize that I am as well. "Keep that up," I growl, "and you're going to have one hell of a mess on your hands."

He snickers at my desperation as his tapered fingers undo my belt, making a show of pulling it out and dropping it to the floor, the buckle connecting with a resounding thud. As I stare at him through heavily-lidded eyes, he fumbles with the top button, cursing under his breath as his patience wears out and he simply tears it off completely. Normally, I wouldn't be too happy about the fact that he's just ruined a pair of expensive pants, but at this point, I couldn't care less about anything save him and achieving release as soon as possible.

With that thought in mind, I help him get my boxers and pants off, delighting in the gasp that passes his rich, full lips as his eyes roam over my completely naked body for the first time. "And you call me beautiful," he says, backing up on the bed so that his face is at my groin, and I can feel his warm breath on my already overheated member as he speaks.

"You are," I manage to get out, reaching out to stroke his hair clumsily.

He scoffs. "Then you must be God himself." he says with finality as he goes down on me, and my world flashes white for a moment as I adjust to the sensory assault. I fight the urge to thrust up into his mouth right away, guessing from the cautious way he proceeds to engulf my hardness that this is his first time doing this. I wish I could say the same... damn Gozaburo to a worse hell than he's already in. I would give anything to be able to call him my first; I suppose we'll both just have to settle for him being the first one I give a damn about.

First time or not, though, it doesn't take long before my will shatters, and I begin to buck up into his mouth as I fist my hands in his hair, gripping the flaxen locks tightly. "Joey..." I growl out breathlessly as my entire body tenses, then goes limp as I fall back onto the bed bonelessly, trying to recover and catch my breath.

My eyes crack open a few moments later, and I chuckle at the sight before me. My puppy's still between my legs, kneeling now, his face and bangs covered in my come, staring at me indignantly as he tries futilely to wipe the thick substance away. Sitting up with a great effort, I take a corner of the thin, threadbare blanket and use it to clean him up as best I can without soap or water before kissing him, allowing my hands to roam all over his gloriously nude form as he shares what little of my seed I actually got into his mouth with me, our unique tastes combining to create something truly mind-blowing. I pay special attention to his still-unsatisfied member, stroking it until he whimpers and pulls away from me, locking our eyes together.

"Not like this," he explains breathlessly before I can ask what's wrong. "Inside you... I want to come inside you."

These words bring it all rushing back; the enormity of what I've agreed to. This is the only way, I tell myself, but still, every fiber of my being protests allowing someone in that close, actually giving myself up once again. Granted, the circumstances are totally different, but the scars of my existence with Gozaburo run deep enough to make them look far too similar for my liking. Still, though, my newfound feelings for him trump my dark past, and I nuzzle his neck gently as I pull him down on top of me, spreading my legs to allow him better access.

He looks at me and blushes slightly. "Um.. Seto..." he murmurs.

"Hmm?" I reply, too focused on the anticipation to form a coherent reply.

"I'm not entirely sure... how to go about this..." His blush intensifies, and I smile enviously at his innocence as I take his right hand in mine, kissing his fingertips fleetingly.

"Let me show you." I say as I lick around three of his fingers, moistening the digits thoroughly. The look on his face is a cross between confusion and euphoria, and I find myself unable to take my eyes off his innocent beauty. I don't think I'll ever be able to let him go... I hope and pray to whatever gods are listening that he feels the same way.

Once I'm done with this task, I guide his hand to my entrance, pressing his index finger against it and inhaling sharply as it slips past the tight ring of muscle. "You can take it from here?" I ask, my voice leagues thinner than usual, and he nods as he pushes the digit into me hesitantly, making slow, steady progress until it's in to the knuckle. I realize that I'm grimacing at the not-entirely-pleasurable sensation, and I force my facial muscles to relax, lest I scare him off.

My discomfort doesn't escape him, though. "Are you okay?" he asks, and I nod.

"Just been a while," I swallow past a lump in my throat. "Keep going."

He nods, biting down on his bottom lip in concentration as he adds another finger, stretching me as gently as possible. I whimper once, scolding myself inwardly with a voice that sounds suspiciously like Gozaburo's for letting him see any evidence of my pain. He frowns sympathetically, kissing me and taking one of my hands in his left as he scissors the digits inside me, brushing against that spot that sends stars shooting across my vision, and I push down on his hand, whimpering in pleasure this time.

"More," I gasp, and he complies with a smile, inserting the last finger and sliding them in and out as he spreads them out to stretch me further. This continues until I finally dig the nails of my free hand into his back and lean up to whisper in his ear. "Now, pup." I sigh breathlessly, and he lets my hand drop, spitting into his own and using the thick liquid to liberally coat his proud arousal before pulling his fingers out of me completely. I barely have time to notice their loss, though, before his slick tip is pressing into me, and I arch off the bed in surprise and equal parts impatience and pain. It's going to be worth it... I know it's going to be worth it... damn, it hurts, though...

I can tell he's trying to be gentle as he throws his head back in pure bliss, pushing another inch or so into me as he does. The entire experience is sofereferent from before, I can hardly believe it's exactly the same act. Instead of an overwhelming nausea and hatred, my heart's practically exploding with love and desire for this boy entering me at the moment, and what little pain there is is completely eclipsed by these feelings. Wrapping my legs around his waist and taking note of the way we fit together so perfectly, I pull him all the way in, uncaring how much it hurts, needing to have him inside me right that second. Though I barely stifle a cry, it isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

He stays completely still as we both adjust to the new feelings coursing through our bodies and souls alike, but after a few moments, he opens his eyes just the slightest bit and smiles down at me. "Let it out, love," he whispers, piercing the almost holy silence as his hands slide over my slim, well-muscled thighs. "You shouldn't have done that," he continues, his tone thick with worry, and I stroke his cheek, offering him a contented smile.

"I'm not made of glass," I reply, chuckling at this supreme understatement.

Grinning, he pulls out and thrusts himself back in, slightly faster than before, making sure to hit my pleasure spot dead-on, and I jerk off the bed, my once-again hardened length brushing against his six-pack and sending shivers through both of us. "Yeah, but you're not made of steel, either," he chuckles as he grinds himself ever deeper into me, and I'm powerless to even muffle the shout of pure joy that tears itself from my throat as he does.

"That's what I'm talking about," he groans as he begins to build up a slow rhythm, alternating between short, stabbing thrusts and slow, languid ones. He leans down to claim my mouth yet again sometime during this time, but even this pleasurable contact is lost to my lust-fogged brain as I wrap my arms around him, pulling his entire body closer to mine, moaning into his mouth all the while.

"Seto..." he whimpers between kisses. "Seto... I'm close, so close..." I'm conscious of his rhythm speeding up, and as though that weren't enough, one of his hands closes around my shaft, masturbating me in time with his thrusts. My eyes slide closed as I lose myself in the sensation of being made love to so completely, and it isn't long after that that I spill my esseintointo his hand with a groan of satisfaction and exhaustion.

My entire lower body tenses up with the force of my orgasm, and this proves too much for him to handle. Burying himself as deep into me as he can, he allows himself to let go, jet after jet of his seed filling me up as he screams out his release. Once this moment of euphoria has passed, he slumps down on top of me, spent and far too exhausted to pull out. "Seto..." I hear him sigh after a while, and I wrap us both in the blanket I used to clean him off a short time ago, reaching down to retrieve my trench coat as well and draping it over him. "I love you. I love you so much..." I feel twin drops of warm liquid make contact with my chest, and pull him up to my eye level, realizing that he's crying almost uncontrollably.

I hold him to my body tightly, feeling his softening member slide out of me as I wrap him completely in the trench coat, rocking my precious puppy the same way I would a small child. "Shh..." I murmur against his ear comfortingly. "Joey... shh, please don't cry, love."

He sniffles, looking me straight in the eye. "Seto... do you love me?" he asks, and I think back to the torrent of emotion that overcame me so completely while we were making love. To deny my true feelings for him now would not only be cruel, it would also be totally impossible.

I kiss his yielding lips before replying. "I love you, Joseph Wheeler," I whisper sweetly, and his face lights up like a sunrise. "With all my heart and soul, I love you."

This time, it's him that kisses me, desperately and joyfully. Together, we sink down into the mattress, his head curled into my bare chest, my arms encircling his chest, his around my waist. "Will you be here when I wake up?" he asks as we drift off, and it takes me a few seconds longer than usual to process the question. By the time I have an answer, he's out cold, so I simply press my lips to his golden hair and run my hand over his lithe body through the makeshift blankets.

"Yes, love," I say as I too fall asleep.

Choking on the bullet,
The gun has found a friend.

I awaken a few hours later to a muted ringing noise that I immediately recognize as my cell phone. The pup's still knocked out, but his breathing patterns have returned to normal at least. With an exasperated sigh, I kiss his cheek, crawl out of his sleep-loosened embrace, and dig around in the mess on the floor for my pants, tugging the insistent machine out of the left pocket and turning it on.

"Yeah?" I mutter, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I'd forgotten about the post-coupling soreness, but as painful as the lances shooting up my lower back whenever I stand are, they're so worth it.

"Seto? Where have you been? You promised you'd be home for dinner, but you never showed! Is everything alright?" Mokuba sounds absolutely frantic, and I glance at my watch. The ornate timepiece tells me that it's somewhere around seven-thirty, and dinner's usually around five... damn it, I slept longer than I intended. No wonder he's worried.

Wait a minute... slept? Without the pills? Without the brandy? I actually fell asleep without any kind of aid? Joyfully, I kiss the blond puppy next to me, my tongue delving into his mouth. He responds as best he can without fully waking up, and as our lips part, he rolls over, snoring softly. Not only that, but I don't remember having any nightmares... but that must mean my crazy plan worked! God, who would have thought after all those shrinks, all that medication, what I really needed was to let someone into my life and give everything they had to help me fix it. I owe him so much, and he hasn't a clue. How ironic.

"Seto, are you still there?" My little brother's voice jars me out of my reverie, and I yawn silently before replying.

"I'll be home soon, Mokuba." I say, massaging my lower back clumsily. "I apologize for keeping you waiting."

"Where are you, big brother?" he persists, and I roll my eyes. Sometimes, the kid can get annoying, and I really don't feel like telling him the real reason I'm late. Not the most appropriate form of sex ed, that's for sure. "I'll send the chauffeur to pick you up."

"That's fine, I'll walk." Two steps toward the bathroom is more than enough to make me revise that decision, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stifle a grunt of pain as I pitch forward, bracing myself on the nearby dresser. "On second thought, send the car to Joey Wheeler's place. I'll be waiting outside in fifteen minutes."

"Joey's place?!" His voice demands explanation, but I don't have the time or the will to indulge him right now.

"Yes, Mokuba." I confirm with finality. "Good-bye."

"But, Seto!" is all he manages to get out before I snap the phone closed and resume my painful journey to the bathroom to get cleaned up. On my way there, I pass his father's room, the door half closed and cheap liquor bottles littering the floor. Thankfully, he's not home for whatever reason; had he found us together, I doubt even I would have been able to explain it away. Of course, from what I've heard of him, he probably wouldn't be lucid enough to realize what was going on in the first place.

At first glance, things definitely look grim. Fifteen minutes is definitely not enough time for the shower I sorely need, so I run a nearby washcloth under warm water and proceed to wipe what I can away. The rest, I resolve, will have to stay, at least until I get home and into a nice, warm bath. That wouldn't be so bad, but I know Mokuba's going to be doing his best imitation of an Inquisitor once I get through the door, which means pacifying him before doing anything else. Not such a great thing.

Returning to the bedroom, I separate my clothes from his and dress hurriedly. The last item is my trench coat, but I decide to leave it where it is, wrapped around my newfound lover. He needs it more than I do, and besides, I can't bring myself to disturb his rest.

A quick glance at my watch shows I have eight minutes until the chauffeur is scheduled to arrive. Hunting around his room for a pen and paper, I tear a sheet from his completely blank school copybook and jot down a quick note to him.

Joey,

Sorry, but I've got to get home, Mokuba's worried sick. I'll be back as soon as I can get away; until then, I'll miss you every second. Later, Pup; rest well, you've earned it.

Love, Seto

P.S.: Thank you, for everything.

I fold up the sheet of paper, replace everything as I found it, and set it down beside him on the bed, where I'm sure he'll notice it as soon as he wakes up. Stroking his silky hair one last time, I walk slowly from the room, closing the door behind me as I leave. I don't hear the breeze from the open window gust through his bedroom, don't see it blow the note into the crack between his nightstand and the side of his bed as I leave the apartment and limp almost imperceptibly to the elevator. There is no way I'm doing stairs in this condition, I tell myself as I hit the call button and wonder how in the world I'm going to explain everything to Mokuba.

Joey's POV

I reach out sleepily for him an hour or so later, but my questing hand meets only empty air. Frowning, I pat the now-cool sheets, murmuring wordlessly as my eyes crack open just the slightest bit. I half expect to see him smiling at me, but instead, only the complete chaos of my room and the billowing curtains meet my roving gaze. I sit up, rubbing my eyes slowly, and look around.

"Seto?" I call out, and I notice my movement's dislodged his trench coat, which he's evidently turned into a makeshift blanket for me. Surely, he wouldn't leave without it, would he?

No answer comes, though, and as I glance around the room, I notice that only my clothes are left on the floor. A spike of fear digs into my chest, and I take a deep breath as I retrieve my boxers, sliding them on as I slip out of his coat. A quick examination of the apartment confirms my worst suspicions; he's gone, probably has been for some time.

"Okay, don't panic," I tell myself. Something probably just came up... if that's the case, he must have left a note, right? I laugh out loud at my own stupidity, my lack of faith in the man I love. He probably left it in the bedroom, someplace I'd be sure to find it, and I missed it while I was jumping to the wrong conclusion. It makes perfect sense, and my heart is lighter by far as I practically skip back into the room, and spend the next twenty minutes tearing it apart, searching for the note I know he must have left. I dig through drawers, tear off the bed sheets, root through the pillowcases. I even check behind the dresser, but all to no avail.

With a strangled sob, I fall to my knees, leaning against the cheap chest of drawers that my dad picked up third-hand at a yard sale a few years back. He said he loved me... I know he loves me... but why leave like that, without so much as a word or a by-your-leave? A voice in the back of my head warns me against jumping to conclusions again, but I crush it beneath a wall of cruel logic. There's only one explanation, as far as I'm concerned... he obviously regretted what we did, and he's not man enough to face me and tell me so, so he just leaves like a thief in the night.

You know that's not who he is, the voice begins, and I tug at my hair in frustration.

"I don't know who the fuck he is!" I shout, my voice echoing off the walls as I storm into my father's bedroom, taking his gun from its place beneath his pillow and checking the magazine. Three bullets... perfect. I'll only need one.

The cold steel drives home the reality of what I intend to do, and I swallow hard, a strange taste in my mouth. I recognize it finally as a mixture of things, as I shuffle half-dazed into the living room; his sweat, my own blood from biting down on my lip too hard, and most overpowering of all, whether real or imagined, the salty tang of his essence....

Crying out again, in anger this time, I jam the gun into my mouth, allowing the taste of iron to blot out all the rest as I glance at the clock. If I don't hear from him in one hour, I resolve, I'm pulling the trigger.

After all, what is life worth without love?