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• A Long Time Past	By : DrummerDancer Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2847 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
  Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

• Chapter List
  • 1-A Long Time Past
• • 1

• Characters/Pairings: Prideshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yami Yugi)
  
  Warnings: Brief sexual encounter

  ---

  
  

  His office is filled with bare corners and wide open space. All gone, the lounge chairs and tea table and rugs and paintings and bookshelves and now, even Kaiba’s desk is being picked up by two burly men in overalls, as they shuffle the empty desk out his office door. Kaiba watches them go, blinks, and bends down as something on the ground catches the light.

  A gaudy gold bracelet, dusty, dead—Kaiba runs his fingers around the inside. Glassy, familiar…
  Kaiba smooths his tie down suddenly, stabbing the point. This was…
  His mouth tastes like rubber. He’d finally forgotten, or at the least, he no longer ran the tips of his own fingers up his chest at night, and remembered the small, agile fingers that licked at every muscle and ghosted every hair, the lips that pulled into the rare smile. How Kaiba would thumb his fingers into the ankles, the calves, the knees of the adversary who so troubled him, who tormented him in his sleep, who came and went like a coiled spring; one moment, squeezing his thighs around Kaiba’s waist and curling his fingers into Kaiba’s neck, an hour later, leaving cold sheets and an odd sock behind.
  That last month, they’d had so much sex. Kaiba hadn’t known—couldn’t have known—because the spirit inside Yugi’s puzzle was contemplative and secretive, didn’t say a word as Kaiba rutted in and out his backside, left a hand-sized bruise on his right thigh, tunneled his fist around Yami’s cock as he arched his back, cat-like, spewing no nonsense from those pink lips. Kaiba had lulled himself into thinking Yami real and solid and somewhat of a reoccurrence in his life, when they’d had sex for the last time on Kaiba’s desk at the end of February.
  Yami had worn a dozen thin bracelets on a bare arm, and they’d made a messy clattering noise, banging up Kaiba’s desk like a mallet and leaving the surface with shallow potholes.
  And after it was over, Yami, face flushed and the vein running down his forehead sticking out like a roadmap, had mentioned flying to Egypt with Ishizu. And Kaiba, foolish and ignorant and oblivious—he’d zipped up his pants and said he had to work, and besides, it would be cold that time of year.
  Yami had sat up, pants twisted around his bony knees, puzzle looped behind his neck like a noose. That was the last Kaiba remembered of him, disheveled and covered in sweat and gold bracelets, as he too straightened his clothes and said goodbye.
  This bracelet must’ve rolled under his desk at some point. Kaiba debates what to do with it, what to do with the cloudy lump that’s stuck at the top of his throat now. It’s cheap jewelry only Yami would’ve worn, and it probably shouldn’t have a place in his new office.
  His hand trembles as he reaches for the wastebasket—and hovers when he realizes that’s already gone too.

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