TLC

TLC


Author: Setosgirl
Pairings: Mokuba x Seto
Disclaimer: If I owned YuuGiOu… well, just think about that for a little while.

Summary: Mokuba returns home after work, looking for a little lovin’. However, both
brothers have had a bad day with their respective
jobs… not a recipe for a nice night.



~ * ~ * ~


Mokuba sighed and let the door fall closed behind him. Every day, he got to appreciate how hard Seto had worked all these years a little more, even if their jobs were completely different. Everyone who thought Seto was just a spoiled rich brat didn’t have a clue what they were talking about…

But Seto was already home, so he at least had that to look forward to. Nothing was better after a stressful day at work than coming home to Seto, or waiting expectantly for Seto to come home (because he always did, now that Mokuba was grown up and the company was completely secure).

There was a light on in Seto’s room, and Mokuba smiled a little as he looked in on him. His back was to the door as he worked at his desk, peering at the computer in the dim spotlight of his desk lamp. He was still wearing his suit, minus jacket, his tie probably loosened a little but till there. He came home, but more often than not brought his work home with him, still…

The door shut silently behind him as he crossed the room to Seto’s desk, pulling his own tie loose as he did. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders and rested his head next to Seto’s, glancing at the screen. He didn’t understand it; it was probably code for a new game.

“Hello, Seto,” he said with a slight purr in his voice, kissing the side of Seto’s neck. There was no question what he wanted…

His brother tilted his head slightly, but it seemed to be only out of convenience. “Please, Mokuba. I don’t have time for this.”

The younger of the two frowned and pulled his head back, but didn’t release him. “What are you working on that’s so damned important?”

“The idiots that work for me–” ‘us,’ Mokuba mentally corrected, “are entirely useless. They knew they were fucking this up, but they just finished it, then sent it to me to fix… If there were anyone better to take their places, I’d fire them all…”

It had to have been a bad day at work. Seto didn’t swear, as a rule, and he didn’t idly talk about firing people; in fact, he rarely even fired anyone. The fact was that the people who worked for KaibaCorp were the best there were, aside, of course, from the elder Kaiba brother, and Seto was usually very understanding of any problems they had, and told them what they did wrong and helped them fix it… His day must have gone horribly for him to be talking like this.

Then again, Mokuba’s day hadn’t been a picnic either. “At least you can set it aside,” he said, layered heavily with ‘hint’. “Why don’t you ignore it for a while? The program will still be there when you get back.” He kissed his neck again, in an attempt to encourage him to put his work away and come play.

Seto actively pulled away from him. “Mokuba, stop!” he said impatiently. “I have to get this done, yesterday.”

Mokuba frowned and finally released his shoulders, leaning now against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “You know, my day wasn’t sunshine and flowers either, Seto, but I’m not sitting here being a bitch about it. At least you get to leave when you want to – at least you can work on your job at home. I sure as hell can’t do that.”

“Our jobs are completely different, Mokuba,” Seto said in absent reproach, as though it was ludicrous to even consider putting their jobs on the same level. To this point, he had yet to look at Mokuba, which the younger brother was finding increasingly annoying. His work was so much more important that he couldn’t even spare half a second to look at him? “You deal with people. I deal with work. People problems are easily solved. This, on the other hand, is going to take me all night…”

Mokuba narrowed his eyes. So that was what Seto thought, huh? That his job was easy? That his job was unimportant?

“I admit that I can’t do your job, but my job obviously isn’t so easy that you can do it, either. Productivity and morale have both raised more than two hundred percent since you stopped trying to handle the personnel problems and let me take care of it.”

“I don’t like people,” Seto said simply, still without looking at him.

Mokuba snorted. “That’s obvious. And they don’t like you, either.”

That got Seto to stop and glare up at him, but by then all there was to see was Mokuba’s retreating back, followed soon by the slammed door.

Mokuba was sitting on one end of a long couch in their main TV room and staring moodily at said appliance, a drink of the alcoholic variety in one hand, both tie and jacket sitting over the back of an unoccupied armchair. He hated fighting with Seto. They did it often enough, considering… but still. He mostly hated it because it made him feel like a jackass. Seto never actually started it, after all. That wasn’t really his personality. Seto would just sit there and coldly ignore the problem; if it were up to Seto, they’d never argue – no, they’d sit in stony silence and ignore each other for two weeks instead.

They never really stayed mad at each other too long, either, which was a blessing. Again, though, it was almost always him who had to instigate their reconciliation. And in this circumstance, it would probably be at least tomorrow night before he could try. He’d be more than ready after getting a good night’s sleep, and Seto probably would too, except that Seto didn’t seem likely to get much sleep tonight.

He sighed and finished his drink in one gulp, tossing the glass back onto the coffee table. He managed people and their often petty problems and disagreements and emotions all day – it was his job. Vice President, in charge of personnel. He was damned good at his job, too; he could solve the pettiest of problems and smooth the most ruffled of feathers. Talk about taking his work home with him, though; solving Seto’s petty problems and smoothing his feathers would be a full-time job in itself. Kaiba Seto was the most difficult person at KaibaCorp.

The flow of his thoughts was interrupted by the cushion to his left shifting slightly, as Seto’s slim weight settled upon it. He blinked slowly and silently looked at him, warily gauging his attitude. Seto wasn’t looking at him, staring vaguely toward the coffee table, or perhaps the bottom of the television, as though trying to ignore him, but obviously painfully conscious of his presence. Mokuba’s eyes traveled immediately to Seto’s left hand, and he let out his breath in relief. He was wearing his ring. They’d worked out years ago that if Seto took off his ring, he wasn’t to be spoken to. Sure, it seemed a little childish… but it was better than Mokuba getting his head ripped off and another argument starting because he tried to talk to Seto when he didn’t very definitely did not want to be spoken to.

“Seto…” he started carefully.

His brother sighed, still without looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he said. His entire manner showed that he was trying to act like it was no big deal, and simultaneously trying to act like he wasn’t embarrassed.

Mokuba stared at him, blinking a few times, before a carefully formulated “What?” escaped him. Seto… apologizing? He felt the overwhelming urge to put his hand on Seto’s forehead to see if he was running a life-threatening fever.

“I’m sorry,” Seto repeated, a bit more clearly. He glanced over at Mokuba and smiled just a little. “I was being kind of a bitch, wasn’t I?”

Mokuba matched his smile. “A little bit,” he agreed.

“Then again, so were you.”

Mokuba adopted an offended __expression. “Me? What are you talking about? I’m the adorable, likeable Kaiba. You’re the self-centered bastard.”

“Right. I forgot. Which is why no one likes me, I suppose?”

He said it lightly enough, but Mokuba winced a little. There he went, feeling like an asshole again… that really had been a low blow – and it wasn’t even true. People did like Seto… he was just intimidating. “I didn’t really mean that,” he told Seto. “I was just pissed…”

Seto waved his words away as though they were meaningless. “It’s all right,” he said. “I frankly don’t care if people like me. That’s what the adorable, likeable Kaiba is for – to give KaibaCorp a face people can like.” Mokuba smiled as Seto went on. “I’m more than content to sit in my ivory tower and write computer program…” He smiled a little. “Plus, what do I need other people to like me for, as long as I’ve got you?”

“That’s true,” Mokuba said immodestly. Seto smiled a little. “What else does one need besides my shining company? Unfortunately, though, you do have to share me with our employees and the media and most of the rest of the world.”

One of Seto’s long arms wound its way around his waist. “Hopefully not completely…” he murmured as he kissed his neck much as Mokuba had done to him earlier.

“No,” Mokuba admitted, “not completely…” He inserted one hand between them and gently pushed Seto backward, into the soft sofa. Seto’s questioning noise turned into a quiet moan as he kissed him, turning it into something like “Hm-? Mmmm…” It seemed that the night wouldn’t be a complete waste after all.

He tugged lightly on Seto’s tailored tie. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Seto tapped Mokuba’s lower back, all he could reach, with the hand still around his waist. “You’re lying on top of me,” he pointed out. “I can’t do much about it.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Mokuba said, and went back to assaulting his lips with his own.

“Mm…” Seto said, and forced a hand between them, reluctantly forcing Mokuba up. “Hold on, Mokuba. This isn’t the place for this.”

“You’re right,” Mokuba concluded immediately. “No lube around here.” Seto leveled a faked glare at him, and Mokuba laughed and pushed himself off the couch, grabbing Seto’s hand and pulling him up a bit unsteadily. “Come on, then.”

Seto stopped and pulled his hand back, causing Mokuba to look at him in surprise. Seriously… Seto had instigated it this time. He wasn’t really going to be all… bitchy… and decide he didn’t want to now, was he?

“I can walk under my own power,” was all Seto said, though, a bit more haughtily than Mokuba thought he really deserved to say it. “And I don’t scamper like a schoolgirl, either, and I refuse to do so to keep up with you.”

Mokuba flashed him a grin but walked a bit more sedately. “I used to have to run to keep up with you, you remember?”

“The good old days when you really were cute and adorable…”

Mokuba hit his brother’s arm gently. “I’m sorry I got old and ugly.”

Seto raised his eyebrows “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

“How?” Mokuba asked in all wide-eyed innocence.

And Seto seemed to fall for the act. Even he sometimes forgot that Mokuba wasn’t as childish and naïve as he pretended to be… “I’m five years older than you are,” he said, “and if someone as gorgeous as you is ugly, what does that make me?”

Mokuba grinned. “A beautiful goddess.”

“All right, now I now I’ve been insulted.”

The younger brother just smiled knowingly and opened the door to his own spacious bedroom. He held it open with one hand and gestured grandly with the other. “My lady?”

Seto arched one delicate eyebrow at him, and Mokuba had a hard time keeping himself from giggling.

“Don’t make me carry you.”

Seto snorted. “Like you could, little boy.” Little in age only, though; Mokuba was at least as tall a Seto now, and, since he didn’t have Seto’s distressing tendency to forget and ignore meals, he weighed more – even had to work to keep himself in shape and from getting chubby, something which Seto had never had a problem with. Inconsiderate jerk, making everything look easy…

Mokuba set his face in a predatory grin and was about to prove it when Seto squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and walked into the room on his own. Apparently, he didn’t want to face the fact that Mokuba could (probably) beat him in a contest of physical strength.

Mokuba shut the door behind them as Seto sat on the edge of the bed. “Now,” he said, “you’re wearing too many clothes – and I’m not lying on top of you yet. You can take care of it.”

Seto just watched as Mokuba walked around the other side of the bed and opened the drawer in the table beside it. With a single flick of his wrist, not looking at what he was doing, his tie snapped free with a sound like a whip and was laid gently over the top of the headboard for later retrieval. Mokuba shook his head; he’d have to learn how to do that…

He fished out the bottle of lube and put it next to the lamp, then sat on the bed opposite his brother and began to unbutton his shirt. Seto’s was already off, hanging from the bedpost; Mokuba put his hands on Seto’s shoulders and kissed his neck he was sitting back down, pressing his bare chest to his back as his shirt hung down at his sides.

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes?”

Mokuba smiled and kissed his neck again. “Want to help me with that?”

“I suppose,” Seto said with a slight smile. He turned around and slowly slid the smooth shirt down Mokuba’s arms, kissing his shoulder as it fell. Unlike Seto’s shirt, it was tossed carelessly to the floor behind them, barely making it off the bed, and Mokuba took Seto’s arms in his hands, shifting to kiss him. They sat like that for a little while, chest to chest, almost motionless save for their energetic tongue battle.

Mokuba’s hands fell to Seto’s waist and began removing his pants, inch by slow inch. The message was clear; too many clothes, still. Seto seemed to agree, because his hands fell to Mokuba’s waist as he pulled away from the kiss, giving Mokuba victory by default. Mokuba’s pants were slid over his hips, underwear and all.

Mokuba smiled at Seto and pushed him backward so that he landed on his back on the bed, thusly allowing him to get his brother’s pants off. Seto didn’t particularly mind, to all appearances; they had a long-standing but unspoken rule that whoever’s bedroom they were in was the top. They ended up in Mokuba’s bedroom a lot through pure happy circumstance.

Mokuba threw Seto’s pants to the floor and nipped at his chest with gentle bites, making sure to leave a mark several inches above his nipple before he sat up to get rid of his own impeding attire, liking the little sounds his brother made. Seto’s deep blue eyes were watching him silently as he grabbed the lube again, waiting, a bit impatiently in fact.

Mokuba smiled at him as he kissed him again. Seto wrapped one arm around his waist, evidently to keep him from getting up again. He didn’t much mind – this was what he had been aiming for since about halfway through his workday, after all.

Seto was used to this enough that there wasn’t the slightest bit of discomfort as two slicked fingers entered him, and he didn’t pause at all as they kissed. Mokuba’s other hand wandered down and took his brother’s erection, stroking it in time with the fingers moving inside of him. Seto made another little noise of pleasure that he hesitated to classify as a moan but didn’t really fall into any other category.

He felt his own cock twitch as Seto squirmed in impatient pleasure. Seto obviously needed air; he released him from the kiss and attacked his neck instead, listening to his rather heavy breaths. Seto pushed himself against his fingers as the third was added, begging with his body language as he consistently refused to do with his words. Mokuba wasn’t one to refuse.

He removed his fingers and was about to finally enter him when Seto breathlessly inserted one hand between them and pushed Mokuba up, turning them over before he had a clear idea what was going on. Seto obviously had his own agenda here, and Mokuba didn’t quite understand it with his lust-hazed brain until Seto straddled his waist and lowered himself down on him, wrenching a groan from him as he readily took in his throbbing cock without a sign of discomfort.

He put his hands on Seto’s hips, watching his face. Seto met his eyes easily, his own darkened slightly, his lips parted as he panted for breath. Mokuba wanted to tell him that he looked beautiful. It might have been lucky that he couldn’t form the words, because such comments tended to insult Seto, sensitive as he was about his masculinity.

Seto’s hands rested heavily on Mokuba’s shoulders and he was leaning over him as he moved, Mokuba helping to lift him along his member. It was hard to watch him when he just wanted to stare off into space and concentrate on the sensations, but he wanted to see Seto, see him lose his control.

His own control seemed to break first, though, and he no longer waited patiently, lifting his hips to thrust into Seto’s warm, accepting body. His brother moaned a little and his eyes tried to flutter shut as his own pace increased. Mokuba was getting too close; the ball of fire in the pit of his stomach was going to erupt before Seto came, and that wasn’t what he wanted… He shifted Seto slightly, and another thrust, and…

“Ah…!” Getting Seto to cry out was a victory. He was proud of himself. Seto was probably proud of himself too… it was a testament to his strength of will that his arms hadn’t collapsed yet.

One hand stayed on Seto’s waist though he really wasn’t helping him anymore, but the other reached blindly for his straining erection and pumped it. He could hear the little noises Seto was making again, between his gasps for air, and his eyes were still open, but they weren’t focused. He willed him to finish fast, because it was all he could do to hold his own back.

Then finally, Seto tightened his grip almost convulsively, his back arching sharply, tensing as an indeterminable sound of pleasure escaped him and he finally hit his peak. Mokuba watched his face, the absolutely uncontrolled, unadulterated freedom and abandon on his sweaty, disheveled features. Gorgeous.

Then he lost it too and his vision was obscured in a blur of white ecstasy as he held Seto tighter with one final thrust.

His arms were wrapped around his brother when he was next entirely conscious of his actions. He vaguely remembered pulling him down and turning to his side to hold him, but it was fuzzy and unimportant.

“Makeup sex…” Seto muttered contentedly.

“Let’s fight again tomorrow,” Mokuba suggested, and kissed him.