Not A Pretender
folder
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
648
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
648
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Not A Pretender
I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, the story, or the characters. Wish I did, though.
Kemo got antsy sometimes, nowadays. “Those were good times,” he’d say, and he’d smile reminiscently. He was thinking of Kaiba, then, at his mercy, in the kitchen, or his little brother, Mokuba, whose ass was so inviting.
Croquet had no patience. “Shut up. The past is dead.” Things weren’t so bad now. The island was real peaceful, with most of the Security staff gone. He’d hand-picked the ones that were left, and they were co-operative.
Walking between the trees, on a hill behind the castle, the only sounds were birdsong and the noise of Kemo’s footsteps, mingling with his. The air smelled of sun-warmed pine.
“I’m sick of this ratshit place.” Kemo was grumbling again. “Sick of Master Pegasus and his orders…” He went on ahead a little. “I’m gonna go and get me a real job.”
Croquet laughed shortly. “Who’d take you?” He caught up, and they went on together, the rocks like stairs ahead of them. “You gonna work as a yakuza?”
“Maybe,” defensively.
“Maybe KaibaCorp will take you back.” Croquet laughed again.
They went on in silence for a while, then Kemo started up again. “This place is fucked.” He scowled at a pine tree. “”No one ever comes here. Nothing happens.” He paused, thinking of a word, “There’s no opportunity for advancement here no more.”
“You mean you’re not getting any.” They both laughed. A thought occurred to him, and he grabbed Kemo’s arm. “Remember how you used to get those kids during the tournament?” His voice grew excited. “The ones with no star chips left…” He smiled. “You didn’t even used to bring them back to the castle.”
Kemo stared at him. “You ain’t no kid.”
“You could pretend.” He held onto his arm, fingers tight. “An ass is an ass when your eyes are closed..” He laughed softly. “Call me Haga – That was the one you liked, wasn’t it? Or Bonz –“
“Or Keith Howard…” A light was coming into Kemo’s eyes. In a soft voice, “I wanted a chance at him.”
“Bet he’d never taken it from anyone.” Croquet liked that smile on Kemo’s face. “Virgin meat, and you’d’ve had him.” Still holding his arm, “Call me Bandit Keith.” Kemo’s tongue went over his lips. “Think about that tight, American ass, while you do me.”
“I could’ve had him.” Kemo’s smile grew wider. “He would’ve tried to fight, because that’s the kind he was, but my gun was bigger.”
Croquet could see the outline of his erection through his pants. “You couldn’t have. Master Pegasus wanted him.”
“Think he scares me?” Kemo’s voice was belligerent. He pulled Croquet close, shoving at his clothes. “He ain’t got that Eye no more.” He got the belt loosened, and started on the pants. “I get hold of him, I’ll shove his head up his lily white ass.”
Croquet thought about Master Pegasus’ smile, the last time Kemo dared disobey him. “Say I’m Bandit Keith, and you got to take me out after I cheated in the semi-finals. No,“ as an idea came to him, “Say you found me on the rocks after I went through that trapdoor. Say I’m dead.”
“You ain’t dead.” Kemo pushed Croquet’s pants out of the way and undid his own. “I’d want to hear you scream.” Pushing him down in the dirt, “Get those pants off, you.” He knelt between his legs. “Now spread your knees.”
Croquet leaned back, feeling the little rocks under his back. Kemo’s face was red, above him, his sunglasses shiny. His entry was rough, unceremonious. That’s why he can’t get a girl, Croquet thought, Or maybe he tries to do them up the ass, like those kids in the tournament. There was pain, and pressure, as he went in, but Croquet had to work to force out a scream. He knew it was coming, and he wasn’t a pretender, like Master Pegasus.
The ground was very hard. He felt all the little rocks under him, as Kemo went further inside. When the pain eased, Croquet took hold of his own erection. “Think you’re so tough,” Kemo muttered, “Little shitwad American,.” He thrust hard, and Croquet felt the rocks again. “I told you before,” He took a breath, “Ain’t nobody tougher than me. Not on this island.”
“Motherfucker,” Croquet spoke through gritted teeth. He kept holding onto himself, as Kemo drove him down into the dirt. “Goddamn boy-loving asshole!”
“Shut up!” Kemo hit him. “I’ll do you,” he was growing breathless, “and then I’ll give you to Master Pegasus,” he thrust harder, “He’ll take MY soiled goods for a change, Bandit Fuckin’ Keith!” Croquet could feel him come inside him then; Kemo was so predictable. He brought himself to climax, spilling moisture on the other bodyguard’s stomach.
Keep dreaming, Kemo. He stood up, a little stiff from being on the ground. The only soiled goods you’ll ever give Master Pegasus is yourself. “Get up, Kemo.” He grabbed his dusty pants and put them on. “We’d better get back to the castle.”
“Goddamn, ratshit, island!” Kemo did up his pants. “I ain’t staying here one fucking day longer than I have to.” He kicked a rock, as they went back down the hill together.
Kemo got antsy sometimes, nowadays. “Those were good times,” he’d say, and he’d smile reminiscently. He was thinking of Kaiba, then, at his mercy, in the kitchen, or his little brother, Mokuba, whose ass was so inviting.
Croquet had no patience. “Shut up. The past is dead.” Things weren’t so bad now. The island was real peaceful, with most of the Security staff gone. He’d hand-picked the ones that were left, and they were co-operative.
Walking between the trees, on a hill behind the castle, the only sounds were birdsong and the noise of Kemo’s footsteps, mingling with his. The air smelled of sun-warmed pine.
“I’m sick of this ratshit place.” Kemo was grumbling again. “Sick of Master Pegasus and his orders…” He went on ahead a little. “I’m gonna go and get me a real job.”
Croquet laughed shortly. “Who’d take you?” He caught up, and they went on together, the rocks like stairs ahead of them. “You gonna work as a yakuza?”
“Maybe,” defensively.
“Maybe KaibaCorp will take you back.” Croquet laughed again.
They went on in silence for a while, then Kemo started up again. “This place is fucked.” He scowled at a pine tree. “”No one ever comes here. Nothing happens.” He paused, thinking of a word, “There’s no opportunity for advancement here no more.”
“You mean you’re not getting any.” They both laughed. A thought occurred to him, and he grabbed Kemo’s arm. “Remember how you used to get those kids during the tournament?” His voice grew excited. “The ones with no star chips left…” He smiled. “You didn’t even used to bring them back to the castle.”
Kemo stared at him. “You ain’t no kid.”
“You could pretend.” He held onto his arm, fingers tight. “An ass is an ass when your eyes are closed..” He laughed softly. “Call me Haga – That was the one you liked, wasn’t it? Or Bonz –“
“Or Keith Howard…” A light was coming into Kemo’s eyes. In a soft voice, “I wanted a chance at him.”
“Bet he’d never taken it from anyone.” Croquet liked that smile on Kemo’s face. “Virgin meat, and you’d’ve had him.” Still holding his arm, “Call me Bandit Keith.” Kemo’s tongue went over his lips. “Think about that tight, American ass, while you do me.”
“I could’ve had him.” Kemo’s smile grew wider. “He would’ve tried to fight, because that’s the kind he was, but my gun was bigger.”
Croquet could see the outline of his erection through his pants. “You couldn’t have. Master Pegasus wanted him.”
“Think he scares me?” Kemo’s voice was belligerent. He pulled Croquet close, shoving at his clothes. “He ain’t got that Eye no more.” He got the belt loosened, and started on the pants. “I get hold of him, I’ll shove his head up his lily white ass.”
Croquet thought about Master Pegasus’ smile, the last time Kemo dared disobey him. “Say I’m Bandit Keith, and you got to take me out after I cheated in the semi-finals. No,“ as an idea came to him, “Say you found me on the rocks after I went through that trapdoor. Say I’m dead.”
“You ain’t dead.” Kemo pushed Croquet’s pants out of the way and undid his own. “I’d want to hear you scream.” Pushing him down in the dirt, “Get those pants off, you.” He knelt between his legs. “Now spread your knees.”
Croquet leaned back, feeling the little rocks under his back. Kemo’s face was red, above him, his sunglasses shiny. His entry was rough, unceremonious. That’s why he can’t get a girl, Croquet thought, Or maybe he tries to do them up the ass, like those kids in the tournament. There was pain, and pressure, as he went in, but Croquet had to work to force out a scream. He knew it was coming, and he wasn’t a pretender, like Master Pegasus.
The ground was very hard. He felt all the little rocks under him, as Kemo went further inside. When the pain eased, Croquet took hold of his own erection. “Think you’re so tough,” Kemo muttered, “Little shitwad American,.” He thrust hard, and Croquet felt the rocks again. “I told you before,” He took a breath, “Ain’t nobody tougher than me. Not on this island.”
“Motherfucker,” Croquet spoke through gritted teeth. He kept holding onto himself, as Kemo drove him down into the dirt. “Goddamn boy-loving asshole!”
“Shut up!” Kemo hit him. “I’ll do you,” he was growing breathless, “and then I’ll give you to Master Pegasus,” he thrust harder, “He’ll take MY soiled goods for a change, Bandit Fuckin’ Keith!” Croquet could feel him come inside him then; Kemo was so predictable. He brought himself to climax, spilling moisture on the other bodyguard’s stomach.
Keep dreaming, Kemo. He stood up, a little stiff from being on the ground. The only soiled goods you’ll ever give Master Pegasus is yourself. “Get up, Kemo.” He grabbed his dusty pants and put them on. “We’d better get back to the castle.”
“Goddamn, ratshit, island!” Kemo did up his pants. “I ain’t staying here one fucking day longer than I have to.” He kicked a rock, as they went back down the hill together.