Vanilla

As stated in the summary, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!, any of the characters, and I don't make any money from this fic.

Sitting at his desk, fingers blazing across his laptop, Seto Kaiba hurried to finish up his latest proposal before heading out to an unexpected meeting. Frowning, he leaned forward, reading and rereading his last sentence in his mind, not liking the way the words mashed together.

Sitting on a couch in the office was Mokuba, swinging his legs impatiently. Seto had said he just needed to come in and finish a few things, then they would get to have some time together, but then this meeting came up, and now it seemed like Seto would be occupied all day. Frowning, Mokuba studied the floor, and then the pile of his brother’s casual clothes that had been thrown on the couch when he hastily changed. He reached over and brushed a hand over his brother’s purple jacket, suddenly wanting to put it on and jump off the couch, to see if it would flap around him like a cape like it always did his brother.

Mokuba looked back up when he heard his brother’s chair moving and the cranking sounds of the printer. The older Kaiba was buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt and smoothing it out, looking worried that, even though the outfit had been hanging in pristine condition in a closet in his office for occasions such as this, that it may have a few wrinkles and leave him looking unprofessional.

Mokuba launched himself off the couch and walked over, smiling up at his brother in the hopes of calming him. Despite being upset that his day with his brother was now ruined, he didn’t want him to stress.

“You look fine,” Mokuba said, and Seto leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Mokuba was the only person in the world who got to see this side of him, the stressed out, nervous side that showed that he was just a kid still.

Without thought Mokuba climbed up onto the chair, straddling his older brother’s hips innocently and settling into his lap. Seto opened his eyes and peered down; saw Mokuba’s small hands reaching for his untied tie. He grasped it and carefully tied it under his brother’s collar, smiling the whole time. When he was done he looked up and grinned, closing his eyes.

“You can’t forget your tie, Onii-san.”

Seto smiled, reaching up and ruffling Mokuba’s hair. He had never been good with his ties, something that no one would have guessed, but Mokuba seemed to understand it, even at 12, and Seto didn’t mind his little brother crawling into his lap to do the job for him.

“Thank you, Mokuba,” he said sweetly, leaning in and absently pressing his lips to his brother’s forehead. The younger Kaiba smiled, feeling so small and so secure where he was, reveling in his brother’s affection, the one thing he craved more than the air that rushed through his lungs.

He tipped his head up just as Seto went to affectionately kiss the bridge of his nose, simply because it always made Mokuba blush and giggle. The unexpected movement through Seto off guard, and his lips brushed Mokuba’s gently, before he was able to pull back and stop himself. The brunette’s blue eyes widened and he in turn blushed, looking away and muttering some sort of apology under his breath. Mokuba stared, feeling something stirring inside him, something warm and slick unraveling in his gut, something fluttering up his throat. His lips parted, but no words came out, just his breath, just a ghost of something Mokuba didn’t understand, something that lurked in those butterflies he got at times when Seto would hold him extra tight, or let him doze off in his room when he had a nightmare.

Seto wouldn’t look at him for a moment, and Mokuba ached inside for those burning eyes. Every muscle inside him coiled, and he wanted to launch up to his brother’s lips, to feel that warm, smooth sensation again. Being only 12, and busy at that for any human being, he had little time to ever stop and think what it would be like to be kissed, and now his mind was blown from just the barest of touches. He wanted more.

“I have to go, Mokuba,” the older Kaiba said, gently lifting his brother off his lap and onto the floor. He stood up and ran his hands over his shirt, before grabbing his jacket off his desk and slipping it on. Mokuba watched as he gathered his papers, tossed them into a briefcase he had under his desk, and headed to the door. When he got there he stopped, hand on the door, and Mokuba held his breath, hoping Seto would turn around, hoping he would say something, anything, promise to be home soon, promise to spend the night with him. He just wanted his brother all to himself. He always wanted that.

Mokuba couldn’t see Seto quivering somewhat, couldn’t feel the cold sweat on his palm. He couldn’t feel the blood as it rushed through his veins, alive from just a brush of lips, nor could he feel the guilt Kaiba felt, not only from the slip, but from all the feelings that seemed to rush up to the surface.

“I’ll see you later, Mokuba,” he finally said, and left, leaving Mokuba alone in the office-

An office that Mokuba spent countless hours in over the course of his life. As he grew, he took on more responsibility at KaibaCorp, and spent more hours working along with his brother, as opposed to simply amusing himself in the same room as Seto worked. By sixteen he had had his own office for a while, and thought his brother had made sure it was just as spacious as his own, Mokuba still preferred Seto’s, typically because the older Kaiba spent most of his time there.

It was getting late in the evening, and Mokuba was sitting on the couch, typing away at his laptop, face almost unmoving in concentration. He was going over the rather long list of appearances he had to make this week, in place of his brother, who had an over packed schedule of meetings, thanks to the nearing deadline of their latest duel disk system. There were still a few bugs that needed to be worked out, and Mokuba knew secretly his brother was pulling his hair out at the mere thought of missing the deadline. The system had been announced over a year ago, and there was so much hype about it that it would be a big blow not to have it out as soon as possible.

Mokuba closed his laptop and stood up, stretching, his black and grey stripped shirt lifting up and showing a good portion of his abdomen. He rarely forced himself into a suit for work, and was even hard pressed to do so for meetings or public appearances. Odds were Mokuba would show up in jeans all week representing the company. Lucky for him, the older Kaiba had no issues with Mokuba’s laid back appearance in the public eye, but had more than once forced him into a jacket and tie before a meeting.

“It’s getting late,” he said, looking at the clock on Seto’s desk. It was after seven already. “Think you can take a break so we can get something to eat?”

Without looking up, Seto said, “Go on without me, I’ve got too much to do here.”

Mokuba sighed and frowned, watching his brother has he typed, seemingly unaware of his younger brother’s gaze.

“You haven’t eaten all day,” Mokuba pointed out, walking over to Seto’s desk and leaning a slightly curved hip against it. “You’ll waste away on me.” Seto looked up and Mokuba gave him a playful smile, and unable to resist, Seto smiled back. He leaned back in his chair, wiping his hand down his face before brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“What if I promise to eat when I get home?” he asked, looking up at the ceiling rather than Mokuba. Mokuba frowned and slipped in between Seto’s chair and his desk, leaning against his. The brunette looked down, and Mokuba was giving him a very adult look, an almost fatherly look.

“Nope,” he said, “either you leave with me now, or I’m going to make sure you don’t get any work done at all here.”

“And how, Mokuba, would you do that?” the older Kaiba asked, somewhat amused. Even at twenty, he still found entertainment in the usually childish games Mokuba could play with him. He was expecting Mokuba to pick up his laptop and bolt to the door, which would only fail since the door was of course locked. Not that the boy could get far, Seto was still taller, and his legs much longer.

Instead though, Mokuba reached back and blindly shoved the laptop to the side of the desk. He hoisted himself up and folded his arms, just sitting there. After a moment, Seto asked, confused,

“So…is this your great plan?” Mokuba smiled and reached out, hooking the toes of his sneakers under his brother’s chair and pulling him forward. Shocked, Kaiba reached out and gripped the desk, his torso only a breach away from the edge. Mokuba leaned down, his heart beating like that of a scared bunny, and let his fingers run along his brother’s tie. Confused, his own heart seeming to have stilled, Seto didn’t move as Mokuba’s fingers reach his neck, tracing along his collar before disappearing into his hair.

“No,” he whispered, his lids growing heavy, “this is.” He leaned forward, hands gripping gentle fistfuls of his brother’s hair, and pressed their lips together. Unable to move because of both his shock and Mokuba’s hold on his hair, Seto just sat there, body turning ice cold, before his blood began to boil through. In a moment his lungs felt heavy, his heart reaching up, clawing at his throat. He clutched at the chair as his brother didn’t pull away, his lips moving to some slow, soft melody only he could hear. When he did lean back just enough to break the contact, his breath rushed out, warm against Seto’s lips, and drove the brunette silently wild.

“Mokuba,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “What…” He was only able to get through one word before the sentence died on his tongue, one of Mokuba’s hands running out of his hair and down his neck, then up over his shoulder and around to his collar. He gripped his brother’s tie and leaned back, holding it taught so he could pull him close within an instant.

“Am I doing?” the younger Kaiba finished, licking his lips. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, Onii-san. Now, you can either get up and leave with me, or you can sit there, and I promise, I’ll continue what I just started.” He leaned forward and stared right into his brother’s blue eyes, and Seto found himself searching Mokuba’s icy steel orbs for something. They felt so deep, so dark, unlike the shining childish eyes he was used to seeing. There was nothing childish in Mokuba’s eyes at all; in fact, there was a deviousness Seto did not even think his brother was capable of.

“I think you need to lie down,” Seto said, his throat feeling dry. “You’re obviously losing your mind.” And it was true; at least, Seto was sure for one of them. Either Mokuba was losing his mind and acting on a delusional attraction, or Seto was losing his mind for feeling compelled to push the younger Kaiba down on his back and feed a new hunger growing in his gut.

Truth be told, it was a war Seto waged every day, every time he saw Mokuba. When he was a child it was easier, the affection Seto felt towards him he just assumed was the love of a brother, and the need to hold the younger boy close a fatherly gesture considering the lack of fatherly anything Gozaburo had given. But as Mokuba had grown up, those feelings morphed into something, something that stirred in Seto’s gut at night, when he was alone, missing the moments when Mokuba would crawl in with him, scared. He liked being the one to shield his brother, the keep the world out. He liked being the most powerful thing in the boy’s life.

But his conscious had been telling him for years that he was sick, that these feelings would bring no good to his life. He’d tried to bury himself further in work, to cut Mokuba off slowly, keeping them both busy. Still the boy always found a way into his sight, into his office, into his thoughts.

And now- this. It was too much. Seto felt ready to explode from the things cursing under the surface, things he had vowed no one would know. His eyes flashed, the stoic blue turning into a sudden storm, and Mokuba watched, as if he could see the turmoil inside his brother.

“I’m not losing my mind,” Mokuba whispered, letting go of Seto’s tie and leaning forward, the playfulness in his eyes receding and something far more serious rising to the surface. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” the older Kaiba said, shaking his head. “You obviously don’t. You don’t…you don’t do that, Mokuba, not to your own brother.” He reached up, pressing his palm to his forehead. “God Mokuba, I figured at sixteen I wouldn’t have to explain anything like this to you, I figured you’d…know.”

“It took me until now to realize that it was alright!” he said rather loudly, sitting back up. “I spent years trying to understand the butterflies I got around you Seto, years trying to piece together why, when you were gone, I just felt like sitting at the door like a puppy until you came home. It took me until now to realize that this is alright…because it’s what I’ve wanted my whole life.”

He reached out, gripping the collar of Seto’s shirt and pulling him forward, slamming their lips together almost violently. Seto reached up and gripped Mokuba’s biceps, ready to haul him off and toss him off his desk, but found he just couldn’t. First, knowing he could land on the floor, and not on the couch which was much further away, and could possibly be injured kept him from the violent reaction. Second, Mokuba’s mouth was so warm and soft, his lips like rose petals, that Seto lost all thought for moments at a time as they caressed his.

“Give in,” Mokuba whispered against Seto’s lips, tilting his head as he went in for more, his tongue flicking against the older brother’s lips. “Please, Onii-san, don’t deny me.”

The way Mokuba pleaded, the slight moan to his words burned Seto’s brain alive, and he found himself pressing his lips harshly against Mokuba’s, hungrily searching his mouth, his arms wrapping around him, enveloping him fully. Mokuba melted into the embrace, gripping into his brother as his lips drove him wild, the lust within him tightening into a slick, hot coil in his belly, a familiar feeling to him. When they broke for air, Mokuba gasped, and Seto bit his lower lip, tugging it gently, before letting go of him completely and standing up.

He loomed over Mokuba for a moment, who leaned back on his hands and stared, before he bent down and forced him onto his back on his desk. Papers were pushed off and sent flying to the floor, along with a few pens. Seto’s laptop even got knocked further to the side, but remained on the desk, though neither brother noticed.

Mokuba gasped as Seto leaned over him, nibbling his neck, tugging on the collar of his shirt with his teeth. Mokuba squirmed, reaching up and grabbing fistfuls of his white button down shirt, groaning and he involuntarily thrust his hips up and tried to grind against his brother’s abdomen. He’d had dreams about this, about Seto pressing him against the dark wood of his desk and ravaging him, taking him with no concern for the world around them, or even for Mokuba’s physical limits. But he had not expected to win his brother over with just a few kisses and his words, he had expected to have to put up a fight, maybe even get scratched up in the process.

As his brother’s tongue ran along his ear lobe, Mokuba entertained for a moment that maybe, just maybe, Seto had been feeling the same things he had been over the years. That thought, along with all others, quickly disappeared when his mouth was devoured again, and he was lift to clutch at his brother’s back.

Seto’s hips were pressed against the wood of his desk, grinding against it almost painfully. He wanted to get even closer to Mokuba, to press against his thighs, between them, but he was pushed too far up on the damned desk, and Seto feared if he tried to move him he’d do it so quickly and violently he’d hurt him. He instead released his brother’s lips and bent lower, easing the pressure on his hips and groin, and pushed his shirt up, revealing his stomach and chest. Mokuba gasped as Seto’s soft lips explored his chest, pausing to cover one of his rosy nipples and squeeze it between his teeth gently. Mokuba cried out, reaching up and biting at his knuckles as his brother licked at the small bud, before turning his attentions to the other one.

Then Seto’s tongue was trailing down his stomach, dipping into his navel, before Seto once against nipped at the soft skin just below it. Mokuba choked on his breath, craning his neck so he could watch everything his brother did. He imagined every spot his teeth touched turning into a dark brand, a rosy red and then a purple, laced with yellow, a bruise he could look at anytime he dared to wonder who he belonged to.

Mokuba wanted Seto to claim every inch of him for himself.

“Onii-san,” Mokuba gasped as Seto’s mouth found the skin just above the rim of his pants. The brunette looked up, blue eyes hot with desire, and stared into Mokuba, burning into the very fibers of his being.

“Yeah?” he whispered, and Mokuba, for a moment, was transfixed on the movement of his lips. He blushed, then shook his head, his soft hair moving through the air like liquid. Seto just smirked and bent his head back down, new enough to this to not realize Mokuba was just calling out to him, that he needn’t respond except with the movement of his lips.

His teeth gripped the hem of Mokuba’s faded jeans, and Seto pulled back for just a moment as he deftly opened them. He nuzzled Mokuba’s groin, felt the soft cotton of his boxers, just covering the very hard sex underneath that pressed against his cheek. Mokuba’s hips pushed up gently, the boy using all his might not to drive his erection through his boxers and his brother’s skull. When Seto’s lips dragged up along the cloth covered sex, Mokuba nearly lost himself, gripping at the desk, scrapping at it because there was simply nothing to grab.

“Seto, don’t tease me,” he begged, his chest rising and falling with much labor. Smiling, Seto gripped Mokuba’s boxers and jeans and pulled them down his thighs. His sex bobbed up and the younger Kaiba hissed as the cool air surrounded him, arching his back at the change in sensations.

Seto stopped for a moment and just stared, studying Mokuba’s length as the younger gasped for breath, feeling overwhelmed by just being exposed. His breathing was sending chills down the brunette’s spine, and they only got stronger when Seto wrapped his hand around Mokuba’s penis and the boy cried out.

Seto stroked gently, slowly, far slower than he stroked himself, except on late nights when he had imagined what it would be like to teach Mokuba how to touch him, knowing the boy would be scared. Or, thinking the boy would have been scared. The current situation he found himself in made him second guess that theory.

Mokuba was thrusting into his hand, begging him silently to move faster. Seto obliged, speeding up his strokes, kissing along the base of his brother’s cock, before trailing his tongue up along the underside. Mokuba shuddered, and Seto took it as a good sign, having no actual solid idea as to what to do to please his brother, and simply going off of what he’d want Mokuba to do to him.

He stroked a couple more times, hovering close, having to work up the courage for his next move. Just as Mokuba seemed to be getting used to his touch, his noises quieting, Seto dipped down, swiping his tongue over his sensitive head before sucking it into his mouth. In an instant Mokuba was gasping, arching up and then bolting into a sitting position, eyes wide. The movement dislodged Seto, who looked up at his brother and said in a husky voice,

“Lie down.” There was nothing but order and command and desire in his voice, and Mokuba was quick to lie back down, gripping and pulling at his shirt as Seto resumed sucking on the head gently. He slowly began taking more and more of the younger Kaiba’s length into himself, his hands moving to grip Mokuba’s hips to keep him from bucking too much. The taste of his skin and the precum that glazed his sex drove Seto wild, making his veins damn near explode from the amount of blood rushing through them, towards his groin. He was harder than he had ever been in his life, and his body ached to be stripped of its clothing, to have Mokuba’s soft hands grasp his cock as he sucked, licked-

Or possibly as he drove deep into his body. Seto shuddered, nails digging into Mokuba’s skin as he fought down the urge. He was content where he was, loving the way Mokuba felt, tasted, and the sounds he was making, the soft mewling sounds and the sharp cries when Seto would take him exceptionally deep.

“Uhn, Onii-san,” Mokuba gasped, his head arching back, “I c-can’t take it.” He tore at his shirt, nails digging into the fabric and tearing threads. The heat in his body was all concentrated within his sex, his body drained of blood, his mind drained of thought. Seto’s naturally skilled tongue had taken him to the edge, and Mokuba was ready to jump.

Seto realized this, and with a quick breath he took Mokuba all the way into his mouth, managing to keep himself from gagging. Mokuba cried out, arching his back off the desk, as the heat in his groin exploded and shot through his body like fireworks. He pumped his essence into Seto’s mouth, who swallowed without much thought, tasting bitterness with a faint hint of sweet, like vanilla.

He pulled back, liking his lips, swallowing the last bit of Mokuba’s cum that lay on his tongue. His younger brother lay gasping on the desk, unable to move, body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Seto gripped the edge of the desk and leaned over him, catching Mokuba’s eye when he managed to raise his head. They stared at each other for a moment, as if questioning if they were really there, and Mokuba could see it in his brother’s eyes, a flash of wonder, of slight regret, of fear.

Mokuba leaned closer, wanting to kiss it away. He knew that if he could just join them in the briefest of kisses that all those things would be wiped from Seto’s mind, and he’d know it was alright. He’d know he had not taken advantage of Mokuba, that the young Kaiba wanted this, that no bond was broken between them. But before Mokuba could get to his brother, his phone rang, and without missing a beat, Seto straightened and picked it up, answering, “Kaiba,” in a rushed, slightly breathy voice.

He was silent for a moment, before finally saying, ”Yes, I’ll be there shortly,” and hanging up. He looked at Mokuba, before turning away, his face flushing. He straightened his tie and smoothed down his shirt, before walking away and grabbing his jacket that was lying over the arm of the couch. “There’s been a sudden meeting called, I have to go.”

“Wait!” Mokuba called, slipping off the desk and hastily pulling his jeans and boxers back up. “Seto, don’t go…”

“I have to,” he said, reaching out and gripping the door, a similar cold sweat breaking out over his body, one he had felt many times around his younger brother. He wanted to turn around and lift him up, kiss his lips and hold him. His own hormones could be put off; he just wanted to make sure he hadn’t done something wrong. But yet, his brain would only let him think of escaping, of leaving the room and putting as much distance as he could between him and Mokuba. “Business calls,” he finally said, and walked out, leaving Mokuba to stare, wide eyed and teary, as the door slammed shut, leaving him alone.

It took Mokuba some time to get himself fully presentable, taming his wild hair with his fingers and buttoning his jeans. His nails had ripped his shirt and there was no saving it, so he simply walked out of the older Kaiba’s office as he was, and headed down to the ground level. He was let outside by one of the late night working secretaries, and a driver and car were summoned for him.

He rode in the back, arms folded over his chest, legs spread and feet planted firmly on the car floor. He was becoming angrier by the second at Seto for leaving him like that, for thinking it was just fine to walk out after what had just gone down. He knew Seto cared about the company more than almost anything in the world, but he had hoped he was just slightly above it. And he figured Seto was smart enough to know just leaving him would bother the younger Kaiba.

He flipped his hair and scowled, wondering if maybe his brother was a heartless bastard after all, like everyone claimed. Did he think he could just fuck around with Mokuba and walk away like nothing happened? Did he think he could allow that? Did Kaiba really think Mokuba would be so passive?

By the time the car rolled up to the Kaiba estate and stilled, Mokuba’s rage was passing. In the end, even if he was mad, he just wanted Seto with him right then. He wanted to talk to him. Maybe being spontaneous and throwing himself in his brother’s path hadn’t been the way to get those butterflies across, but it had been the only thing he could bring himself to do.

Mokuba walked inside the empty house and went right up the large steps to the second floor. He decided that for the night he could put everything aside. His hunger and dissipated, and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for a few hours. After that, maybe he’d think more about how to get his brother to settle down and listen for just a few precious words.

When Seto finally got home it was after midnight. He was exhausted, hungry, and nervous to find the house in complete blackness and his brother not up and about on the main floor. He’d expected to find him sprawled out on the couch, eating and watching late night TV or a movie, as was custom and something Seto had scolded him for (at least on nights right before he had appearances to make, when he should have been resting or preparing a speech).

Instead the house was quiet and dark. Seto headed upstairs and into his bedroom, dropping his briefcase on the floor and tossing his jacket to his bed. He loosened his tie, before untying it and leaving it around his neck as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt. He had assumed Mokuba might be up in his room, and the sounds of Seto returning might have roused him, but there was still only silence and darkness throughout the house. With a heavy sigh Seto left his room, flipping the light off, and headed up and across the hall to Mokuba’s.

He knocked on the door, and when he got no response he opened it a crack, peeking inside. The room was so dark he could barely see, and after a moment he slipped inside, closing the door behind him. As he neared Mokuba’s large bed, he could see his lithe frame, tangled in his sheets, torso moving as he breathed, his body turned on his stomach. His head was partially buried in his pillow, his hair disheveled.

Seto walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out and tracing his fingers over Mokuba’s naked, exposed spine. The younger Kaiba made a soft mewling sound and shifted, unconsciously moving closer to his brother. Seto continued tracing his spine, smiling softly. He felt bad about leaving Mokuba as he had earlier, but he was still too…afraid, dare he say, to face him. In sleep was the only way he was sure he could handle the boy right now.

He leaned down and kissed his temple, strands of Mokuba’s hair tickling his cheek.

“Sleep tight,” he whispered, ready to rise and leave, when he felt a hand reach up and grip his wrist. Seto sat up, shocked, and watched as Mokuba opened one steely eye.

“Onii-san…?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. Seto flushed and looked away, but Mokuba didn’t release his wrist. “What time is it?” he muttered, sitting up and rubbing an eye with his free hand.

“Almost one,” Seto admitted, and Mokuba raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just get in?” Seto nodded, and without missing a beat Mokuba released his wrist and stumbled out of bed, clad in nothing but a pair of blue boxers with little yellow stars all over them. “You must be hungry,” he mumbled, and headed towards his door and into the hallway without waiting for Seto’s reply. Seto got up and quickly followed after him, afraid Mokuba might fall down the large flight of stairs. However, the younger Kaiba was already safely on the main floor when Kaiba reached the stairs, heading off towards the kitchen.

Seto rushed down, taking the steps two at a time, and caught up with his brother just as he walked through the archway into their spacious kitchen.

“Mokuba, just go back to bed,” he called as his almost naked brother opened the fridge and looked at it thoughtfully, obviously waking up.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m up now, Onii-san. Besides, I’m hungry too. So, what’ll it be?” He looked at him, smiling, and Seto just shrugged a shoulder, more confused at his brother’s happy demeanor than anything. He did assume Mokuba would be angry with him for just walking out.

“You’re no help,” Mokuba said, breaking his thoughts, as he turned back to the fridge. Mokuba was no world class chef, but he could at least make something edible. Seto couldn’t even boil water. He closed the fridge and walked over to the counter, hoisting himself up onto it and grabbing an apple from a bowl of fruit. He took a bite silently and stared at Seto, who just stared back, before looking away, a light blush covering his cheeks.

Mokuba knew exactly what was on his brother’s mind, and he had to admit he enjoyed making his brother sweat as he put off the subject of their earlier encounter. He tossed his apple and caught it, smiling somewhat deviously.

“Want me to order a pizza?” Seto looked back at Mokuba, raising his eyebrows.

“At one in the morning? You’re crazy Mokuba. First off, no one delivers this late, and second, I’m not about to eat that crap you stuff into your body.” He walked up to Mokuba and grabbed the apple as the younger Kaiba tossed it again, swiftly pulling it to him and taking a bite, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Mokuba. Mokuba stared, knowing by the glint in Seto’s eyes that his brother had, very quickly, caught onto his game. Dammit, he had to be that quick.

“Then what are you going to eat?” Mokuba asked, his heart within his throat. Seto smirked, setting the apple on the counter top, and Mokuba was distracted for a moment by the movement of his throat as he swallowed.

He leaned closer, tilting his head as he stayed a breath from Mokuba’s lips, one of his hands reaching up and tangling into his messy, raven hair.

“You,” he whispered, and Mokuba melted before his lips even touched him. As Seto’s tongue slipped into his mouth and seemed to wrap around his, he reached out and grabbed fistfuls of Seto’s shirt, holding on for dear life as his mind was flung against a wall. On one hand, he was angry at his brother for the way he just walked out. And on the other he wanted to slow things down, to sit him down and talk about all this, as opposed to punching him in the face, which for once in Mokuba’s life he considered an option.

And the third option, which lay heavy in his chest, quickly spreading to his groin, was to forget all that and let himself be ravaged on the counter, and worry about everything else in the morning. And though he knew it was the unhealthiest choice, it was the only one Mokuba could pick as Seto’s other hand buried in his hair and he tipped the younger boy back to get further into his mouth.

The broke long enough for Mokuba to gasp, and Seto to push him down on his back on the counter. Like a feline, Seto gripped the counter edge and hoisted himself up, kneeling over his brother and staring down at him. Mokuba arched up, reaching out and clutching at Seto’s shirt, nearly tearing at the buttons. His fingers fumbled with the buttons, and he realized he was shaking so much he was unable to maneuver them.

Seeing his frustration, Seto smirked and gripped the shirt, tearing it open. The buttons flew off, clattering to the floor, and Mokuba stared up, eyes wide. His shock didn’t resonate in his brother though, and Seto leaned down and gripped his chin, pulling him up for another kiss. Mokuba got lost in his mouth again, forgetting to breathe until Seto released him and he fell roughly to the counter. The older Kaiba bent over him, licking at his chest, making him gasp and begin to squirm.

He arched towards Seto’s mouth as he once again nipped at Mokuba’s nipples, which were still sore from his earlier attention. He groaned, his shoulder blades digging into the counter painfully.

“Se-to,” he gasped as one hand gripped his sex through his boxers and fondled him. His older brother looked up at him, his bangs ghosting over the tips of his eyes. “It…it hurts,” he admitted, blushing. Seto raised a confused eyebrow, then sat up and looked at the counter.

Chuckling, he slipped off it and grasped Mokuba, lifting him into his arms and cradling him as he headed towards the stairs. The younger Kaiba didn’t protest, instead nuzzled his brother’s exposed chest and kissed his skin softly as he was carried up the large flight of stairs.

His tongue found Seto’s nipple once he’d reached the second floor, and the brunette was thankfully it wasn’t on the stairs as the sensations that shot through his chest made his knees feel weak. He fought down a gasp and continued down the hallway, pushing Mokuba’s door open with his hip, and closing it with his leg.

He set Mokuba on his bed and climbed over him, kissing him again as the boy gripped onto his shoulders, pulling him close. This time Seto was gentler, his tongue mapping out Mokuba’s mouth, his fingers tangling and untangling in his hair as he lay gently on top of him, careful not to smother the still smaller boy.

Mokuba seemed very content with the sudden change in pace, and ran his hands along the back of Seto’s neck and shoulders, inching his shirt away. The kiss broke long enough for Seto to sit up and toss his shirt aside, before lying back down and claiming Mokuba’s lips. The younger Kaiba gave a muffled moan as their bare chests slid together, and gripped Seto’s shoulders tightly, using all his force to roll them over so he lay on top of the brunette.

He broke the kiss and reared up, straddling his brother’s hips. Seto watched the way his lithe body bent through the air, could see it lit by the barest of lights coming in from one of Mokuba’s windows, the curtains having parted ever so slightly. It gave him a silvery glow, one Seto had never seen in person before. And it dawned on him how truly beautiful his little brother was. Forget how adorable he looked when he gave Seto his puppy dog eyes, or how devious and sultry he had been on top of Seto’s desk, looking at him with cold steel eyes. None of that compared to this.

“Mokuba,” he whispered, reaching up to gently hold his hips. The boy looked down at him, his hair falling around him in tufts of onyx, his eyes dark. “God,” he whispered, and Mokuba just smiled. He leaned back down, brushing his lips along Seto’s forehead, the tip of his nose, and then his lips, softly.

“We should slow down,” Mokuba whispered, trying to keep control of his senses. He’d calmed since he’d gotten to his bedroom, his hormones receding enough that his brain could take over. “We need to…talk, Onii-san.”

Seto nodded slightly, and watched as Mokuba slipped off of him and lay next to him, folding his arms under his head and staring up into the dark ceiling. They were quiet for a moment before the younger continued talking.

“Do you remember the nightmares I used to have, after Gozaburo disappeared?”

“Yeah,” Seto whispered, not exactly sure where his brother was going with this.

“And how I used to come into your room at night, and I thought you were asleep so I’d lay down on the floor?” Seto nodded, and Mokuba took a breath, an almost shaky one. “But every time I woke up, you’d picked me up and put me in your bed, and I’d wake up pressed right into your chest, and everywhere I moved there was just you.”

Seto nodded again, loving the way Mokuba was describing it. He remembered lifting him as a little child into his bed and pressing him right to his chest, the way he would grip onto Seto’s pajamas in his sleep, how he’d shift closer and closer, and in the morning Seto could always wake up to those metallic eyes.

“You make me feel safe, Seto. When I’m with you, nothing can touch me. Except you. And god, Seto, I’ve wanted you to touch me…” he trailed off for a moment, having to take a deep breath. “But…I don’t want to lose you. I want to be able to crawl into your bed and still feel safe; I don’t want this to become awkward. You’re my brother…and I want you to be more, but not at the risk of losing that.” He rolled onto his side, meeting Seto’s gaze a she too turned. “Do you understand?”

Seto nodded, reaching out and tracing Mokuba’s jaw line with his index finger.

“I don’t want it to change,” he whispered, slipping closer. He stared at his little brother, wanting to tell him that even back then, those nights had given him butterflies in his stomach, and to this moment when he was around Mokuba his body would react in ways he was not proud of. But it was all stuck in his throat, and all he could do was look at his brother with silent, deep eyes, and pray that his message broke through the silence.

Mokuba leaned in, his lips brushing Seto’s, and whispered, “If you won’t ever lose sight of my need for you, Onii-san, than you can have me.”

Seto propped himself up over Mokuba and looked at him, at his wide, child like eyes, and the seriousness in there.

“There’s only room for you,” Mokuba whispered, taking one of Seto’s hands and placing it on his chest. “But if I can’t fill what you need, I understand.”

Seto bent down, kissing Mokuba’s lips gently. His brother tilted his head just slightly so he could kiss him back, closing his own eyes so he didn’t notice that Seto’s had closed to hold back the mist that was growing quickly.

Seto let his fingers explore Mokuba’s arms, his hair, his cheeks, anywhere he could reach. He didn’t dare speak, hating the cracks he knew his voice would have, knowing that he feared Mokuba seeing him suddenly so stripped of the power and control he always had. But his message got across through his lips, and Mokuba was content to sink his fingers into the hair resting on the brunette’s neck and kiss him until his lips were bruised.

They were soft at first, slowly building back up to the fierce passion they had felt earlier. Slowly Mokuba began pressing his hips rhythmically up against Seto’s, his nails beginning to press into Seto’s skin. His kisses grew deeper, and Seto followed suit, one of his hands finding the hem of Mokuba’s boxers and his finger snaking just beneath it.

Mokuba whimpered, pushing his hips up, and Seto rolled off of him, sliding down the bed so he could yank Mokuba’s boxers down and off, tossing them off the bed. He kissed his thighs, spreading them apart so he could nip near the junction of them to his boy. Mokuba gasped, eyes shooting open, hands fisting in the sheets. He’d been hard since Seto had taken his apple, and at this point it was almost painful, knowing Seto was so close.

“Onii-san,” he begged, and Seto smiled, wrapping his hand around Mokuba’s sex and stroking him gently. The younger sighed blissfully, tipping his head back and getting lost in his brother’s touches. The brunette was moving just enough to keep Mokuba excited, but not enough to further his arousal to an orgasm, but at the moment Mokuba was alright with that. He squirmed gently as his brother explored him, as his lips and tongue replaced his fingers, as he spread Mokuba’s thighs wide. The younger Kaiba arched his back as Seto’s tongue ran along the crease of his balls, before turning his head to playfully nip Mokuba’s thigh.

Mokuba gasped, whimpering when Seto didn’t resume touching him, but instead climbed over him and began kissing his neck. Mokuba pushed up against his hips, his naked pelvis meeting Seto’s still clad in his slacks. Mokuba had completely forgotten Seto was still wearing them, and in that instant he realized he had yet to barely even touch his brother, let alone see him in his naked glory.

Waiting until he felt Seto relax more onto him, Mokuba rolled them over, pinning Seto down on the bed. The brunette looked up at him with large blue eyes, and Mokuba just smiled.

“This isn’t fair to you,” he said, raising himself up onto his hands and knees and reaching back to run his hand along Seto’s groin. The brunette gasped, closing his eyes tightly and arching against Mokuba’s hand, wishing his clothing away. Mokuba smiled playfully and slid down his body, sitting on the bed next to his brother and making quick work of his belt, then popping open the button of his slacks and dragging the zipper down, the sound slicing the silence that grew after Seto’s last gasp.

Mokuba ran his hand over the tight fabric of Seto’s black boxer briefs, his finger tips growing slick from where the fabric pressed against the head of Seto’s weeping erection. His smile grew as his brother gasped for breath again, arching up as Mokuba peeled his underwear away from his body and dragged them, along with his pants, part way down his thighs.

The younger Kaiba stared as Seto’s sex bobbed up to meet him, swollen even more than it usually would be, though he did not know that, due to Seto’s earlier arousal when he’d first pushed Mokuba down to his desk. The younger boy fought hard to not just simply stare, and instead concentrated on riding Seto completely of the rest of his clothes. Once they lay in a heap on the floor, Mokuba allowed himself to take in the sight of his brother, fully naked and nestled into the top of his blanket, looking up at him with crystalline blue eyes that begged, pleaded for him to touch him, to kiss him, to do anything but just stare and create doubt. Things that would never leave his lips.

Mokuba leaned down, kissing Seto beneath his navel, then slowly towards the base of his sex. Seto choked on the air in his throat when Mokuba wrapped his fingers around the base and took the tip in his mouth, sucking gently, his other hand splaying on Seto’s belly. Fire spread throughout the brunette’s skin, stemming from Mokuba’s fingertips, and he arched his head back and closed his eyes, gently pushing up against Mokuba’s lips, deeper slowly into his mouth.

It was bliss, what he was feeling. The warmth spreading through his body, the slick heat in his lower belly that coiled and slithered together. This wasn’t how he had thought this would happen, if it ever did. He wasn’t guiding Mokuba slowly through the steps, wasn’t stroking his soft hair while propped up, in complete control. Instead he was thrown on his back, gasping and moaning and whimpering with every movement his brother gave, unable to think straight. He had no control, and it was far sweeter than anything his mind had ever created.

Mokuba’s mouth was descending over most of his length now, his fingers closing around the portion he couldn’t take. Seto arched his back, moaning loudly, and Mokuba tried to smile despite his mouth full. He sat up, licking his lips, and Seto whimpered, a sound that should never have come from the tall, controlling looking man.

Mokuba giggled like a child and lay against his side, kissing his brother’s lips and tugging on the lower playfully, as Seto had done to him earlier. Seto squirmed, sinking a hand into Mokuba’s hair and pulling him in for a rough kiss, holding him still so he could not escape, as if the younger boy would want to.

Mokuba could tell by the way Seto’s tongue pressed against his, by the way he would sneak breaths in between their kisses as opposed to letting the younger up for air, and by the soft, eager sounds he kept making that he had reached his limit, and if Mokuba didn’t do something to relieve him soon, he might simply die.

The younger Kaiba shared those feelings, his own sex aching and throbbing with the need for release. And though he wanted to lay her and kiss and explore Seto slowly, it would have to wait for another time. There was something else he wanted, though he was afraid of how his brother might react.

With a notable amount of force he pried away from Seto, turning away from him, much to the brunette’s anguish. He groaned, sitting up and raking a hand through his hair.

“Mokuba, you’re killing me-“

He stopped when he saw Mokuba was holding a small, clear bottle in his hand, and the drawer to his nightstand was left just cracked open. Seto swallowed the lump in his throat, not needing anyone to explain to him what was in that bottle.

“If you don’t want to,” Mokuba whispered, looking away for a moment, “I understand. We don’t have to go this far, Onii-san.”

Seto reached out, tracing a finger down Mokuba’s cheek, before leaning in and kissing him softly, taking the bottle from his hand. When he stopped he only smiled, and Mokuba’s eyes lit up with a mix of joy and sexual hunger. He lay down before Seto could ask him to, and contented himself by closing his eyes and writhing against the soft blanket, letting it caress his skin.

A moment later he felt Seto’s hand between his thighs, and he spread them further, gasping when one of Seto’s fingers, now slick, traced his entrance before gently pushing in. He pushed his hips up, whimpering as Seto’s finger traced along his silken walls, only able to take a few breaths before Seto added a second digit.

Mokuba was tight, and the feeling of his muscles moving around his fingers just made him imagine them around his cock, much more vividly than he ever had. He groaned, moving his fingers in a scissor like motion that made Mokuba cry out loudly, his back arching. Seto shuddered, and though he was sure his brother needed more preparation than this, he wasn’t sure he could wait.

He withdrew his fingers to slick his sex with lube, feeling Mokuba shifting around, missing the presence within him. The brunette slipped between his legs, lifting his hips and pressing himself against Mokuba’s entrance. The smaller boy stilled, looking at him with wide eyes, and Seto for a moment couldn’t move.

“You’re sure?” he whispered, needing so badly to be buried inside him, but not willing to sacrifice his brother’s comfort for it. Mokuba nodded, whimpering softly, and with less time than it took for Mokuba to breathe, Seto pushed inside, seating himself fully and gasping as his brother’s warm muscles clenched him tightly. Mokuba cried out, arching painfully and reaching up, biting into his knuckles. Pain seared up from his insides and shot through his spine, but it was followed by something so intoxicating that he wasn’t sure which sensation was making him scream.

Seto stilled instantly, afraid he had impaled Mokuba and injured him. A moment of stillness showed him though that Mokuba, though aching, was enjoying his presence, as he moved his hips gently, pulling just slightly away from the brunette before pushing back against him. Seto groaned and Mokuba gasped, fisting his sheets within his hands as Seto began moving.

Though he tried to keep a slow, steady rhythm, Seto found Mokuba’s body was too warm, too soft and tight, and his own patience had long since broken. He pushed in swiftly, the sudden change making Mokuba cry out and arch again, hi eyes squeezed shut, but in growing bliss.

Seto leaned over him, pushing in further, pressing their bodies together, and attacked his mouth, hungrily sucking the life from his lungs. Mokuba reached up and raked his nails along his shoulders and back, leaving fiery marks that would later darken against the brunette’s pale skin.

When they broke the kiss for air, Mokuba gasped out, “Roll us over,” the end morphing into a loud moan as Seto drove into him and brushed that sweet bundle of nerves for the first time clearly. Seto raised an eyebrow, slowing down, and Mokuba bit his lip, gasping, “Please,” and trying to get Seto buried deep inside him again.

Seto didn’t want to break the rhythm, but his brother’s pleas would never go unanswered. He withdrew from his body and rolled them over, Mokuba quickly straddling his hips and wasting no time impaling himself on his brother again. He cried out, Seto gasping and gripping onto his hips, not missing a beat as he helped him move.

The new position gave Seto the chance to really watch his brother, and he drank in the images as Mokuba moved along his sex, his body arching and twisting in the most artful ways, the way his skin gleamed with his sweat in the dim light, and the way his hair would fly around him as he tossed his head, a few strands stuck to his forehead.

He was beautiful, and though Seto had thought it before, he had enough proof to last him countless lifetimes with just this. And when Mokuba looked down at him with his steely eyes, his cheeks rosy and his lips parted, Seto couldn’t help but smile; despite how much he wanted to cry out as the younger Kaiba’s muscles clenched him tight.

Mokuba smiled back, the pressure in his body building so much that he knew he couldn’t last. He wanted to go on forever, to make sure that nothing in any life could measure up to this night for his brother, but when Seto pulled him down harshly an lit up every one of his nerves, one of his hands finally wrapping around Mokuba’s length, it only took that one stroke to send him over the edge. He cried out his brother’s name, throwing his head back as his essence shot across both brothers’ abdomens and Seto’s hand.

Seto, both feeling the way Mokuba’s muscles spasmed around him, and seeing his brother falling head first into oblivion, lost all control and spent himself deep inside the younger Kaiba, moaning as his orgasm wracked his entire body.

When Mokuba’s body came down from its contorted state, he slouched down, his hands splaying across Seto’s chest as he gasped for breath, panting. Seto’s breathing mirrored his, the rise and fall of his chest moving Mokuba slightly. Neither boy had the strength or desire to move and sever their physical bond, and so they stayed like that until Mokuba’s body ached so much that he felt as if he was about to crumble. Sadly, he lifted himself from his brother, causing them both to gasp and the younger to shiver as the aftermath of his orgasm suddenly flared, before collapsing into his bed next to Seto.

Seto pulled him over, and Mokuba lay against Seto’s chest, listening to his heart beat, something he hadn’t done since he was a small child. Fatigue catching up with him quickly, Mokuba let his eyes slip shut as he tried to count the beats, one for each year he had loved his Seto. However, before he even reached ten his mind was drifting, his lips whispering, “Onii-san,” without thought as sleep’s arms held him tight.

Seto was content to let Mokuba drift, and stared up into the dark above him as Mokuba’s breathing evened out. He stroked his mop of messy black hair, wondering what the morning would bring, what the light would show them when they faced the world. He knew his feelings wouldn’t disappear overnight, though his confidence may. He knew in the morning he’d freeze up, he’d try and walk out like he had on Mokuba earlier.

He prayed to whatever was listening that Mokuba wouldn’t let him leave this time, because in his heart, he had no desire to ever go.