Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

The Dance of Dragons	By : PuppySlut Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 5639 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author�s Notes:
�The Dance of Dragons� is actually an excerpt from a RP I participated
in. As such, it will be switching off between two different Points of View.
(POV) A very close friend of mine portrays what I believe to be one of the best
Seto Kaibas I�ve seen in Rp, and I made an effort not to change his words
except for spelling changes.
I�m responsible for the faltering Jounouchi.
If you�d like to see more of what he can do, I�d highly recommend
visiting the works of CrimsonDevil.
If you�re looking to bone him as Seto�.Back off! He�s mine.
�Well, Heh. �Cept for you, Mo-kun, dear.

Alright, enough ramblings of the
unnecessary kind. Following the Disclaimer, Warning and Summary will be a few
notes about text types and symbols.

Disclaimer: I own nothing Yu-Gi-Oh or Yuugi-Ou, and
neither does my partner. We�re�simply borrowing them for the time being, to
exploit their sex-starved libidos and make them do terrible wonderful things to
each other.
Warning: This Story includes graphic Yaoi. [Lemon. ^^] If you don�t
like it, don�t read it. Flamers, flame if you like, because truthfully, I
couldn�t care less. I doubt I�ll even bother to read the nonsensical,
grammar-starved flames you�ll undoubtedly come up with. But�try if you like.
Nice reviews are always welcome.

Summary: For Seto�s birthday,
the CEO decides to throw a Halloween costume-party. When Jounouchi meets a
namelessly familiar Blue Eyes, will he recognize who the stranger is before the
encounter becomes irreversible??

Things to Watch Out For:
---- = Later.
^Flashback^
~Jounouchi�s Thoughts.~
--Jounouchi�s Inner Voice[s]--
//Kaiba�s thoughts.//
*Actions*
**= In reference to meetings between Jounouchi and Seto.
Probably not to be posted unless requested often and agreed to by my
partner. (Nothing lemon, don�t get your
hopes up, just the completely normal, hormone ridden, experimental makings out
of a couple of boys who despise each other.)

Chapter Two:

Seto�s POV.
So the big night came, and it was hard to distinguish anyone from anyone
else, half in masks and half in barely anything but flesh, metal, satin and
glitter everywhere under the strobes and pumping bass of the DJ's techno
preference.
The first floor was just... dancing. Drinking (and a great number of
hired help was in the crowd, making sure anyone who was lucky enough to get
alcohol was singled out to be driven home later). �And more dancing. But
upstairs, some of the more civil members of the miniature society that had come
to life with their slips of paper, somehow feeling that a holiday was good
reason to lose inhibition, were acquainting themselves with other factors of
themselves. Gentle chattering, others telling stories.
It wasn't going to be hard to spot Mokuba, the shortest thing in here
besides a punked-out-with neon-pizazz Yuugi. He had his hair gelled and set
back to be a slick smooth mane running down his small back, face painted white
to leave blue-violet hues in contrast, and a Victorian shirt of dark cream
sashed shut with sapphire, only to end with black leggings and oversized boots.
Mokuba was being a European Aristocrat, which was no big surprise, and no
doubt with help from his older brother. So when he showed up, it was only to
step (more like stumble) out of the car and patiently hold it open in waiting,
trying to be in as much his character as possible, being both miniature-CEO and
co-host to a party he had come to excuse in purpose of teaching him how to
'blend in with society in a business atmosphere'. He idolized his brother,
after all, but he was obviously uncomfortable having to deny the feel of a rat
nest on his own head.
Meanwhile.... Malik, amber skin cast up in glitter, had been brave enough
to let the carvings on his back pass as some elaborate display of makeup
mastery that matched his kholed lilac hues. The typical bangles of gold he had
clad himself with in Battle City were once again upon him, save for the collar.
Now, a thin chord of gold sat around the elegant column of his throat, and
hanging down was an Eye of Ra pendant. An ankh piercing in each nipple, and his
naval, leading a set of fine gold chains. His arms held a sheer maroon cape
that hung from his upper arms, trickling to the floor for him being seated, one
willowy leg crossed over the other. All that held up the rich plum flaps of
fabric running between his legs were a set of gold chords and chains upon his
hips.
Isis, no doubt, was in a similar attire, most likely scampering through
the crowds and giggling with Mai. Rishid... Well, Malik had invited him, and he
was honored to go, but he would never change out of his robes to appease the
masses.
----
Malik�s painted digits swept sun silk out of his eyes, glitter scattering
free as he studied the seven-panel game of frosted white and sapphire squares
with matching transparent pieces. The man across from him was a tall thing,
mysterious for never having been seen at school. Possibly only two people
recognized him in the great swell of people, which was how he liked it, hair
frizzed about in fine black strands, some tipped with silver and others with blue.
A headband sat in the heap, left unseen as much as his real ears were, leaving
only a pair of majestic miniature pale blue draconic wings to peek through.
They even flapped, when it seemed he was in thought of his move.
His face was painted white, and his upper lip was in black, the lower and
equally thin, but no less appealing, sliver of flesh in deep azure. Like the
steely hues that studied the board from behind a veil of smoked lashes and
silver mist coating his lids.
The alabaster column of his throat was in a choker of lace (most likely
to still conceal whatever remnants of Jou's claimings could still be there)**
and another of leather, the latter bearing a series of silver rings just
waiting to get leashes on. His chin was in one elegantly powerful hand that
bore a slave bracelet of sapphire dragon-eye blazes on ring and wrist, and from
there up his arm it was either mesh or billowy strips of different black
fabrics flowing and binding on his arm.
The other hand bore a triplet of finger gauntlets with ornate engraving
drawn to a point, and a rather harsh one, while the wrist backwards was in
straps up to his forearm, and then lost under a rippling, large sleeve to the
band of firm black that wrapped about his upper arms, leaving the collarbone and
hollow of his throat as well as his naturally pale texture in clear view.
From there it was
black, either in lace or in leather or in satin, ranging from strap to mesh to
button, but the chaos of it all wrapped about his slender frame in such a
flattering manner that the androgynous spectrum of it was lost under all of the
detail that had gone in to it. That, however, did not diminish the appeal, and
for as tight as everything was, it was still a challenge to actually picture
him naked. Everything was in place, and left so little to the imagination.
Desperately long legs were bound in leather, and down the sides could be seen
the neon blue and silver laces that criss-crossed the flaps shut, contrasted
with so many other straps that bound him into smaller steps, were he to rise.
The other most noticeable feature would probably have been the protrusion
from his shoulder blades, being a pair of tatter-bound wings that were
relatively lifeless unless he shifted, the fabric it had been crafted from
almost see-through, but impossible to stare at for very long with the proud yet
tortured allure it gave.

Jounouchi�s POV.
Whatever had caused the delayed arrival of the younger Kaiba brother had
probably been Katsuya's fault.
Though the limo had in fact pulled up to his apartment at quarter to 6,
leaving enough time for any clothing crisis Jouno might have as well as
accounting for travel time, the Blonde had found ways of delaying the twelve
year old.
First, as predicted, he'd had a clothing crisis. Though he'd spent the
majority of the past few days planning the costume, something wasn't right;
wasn't perfect. His father, out enjoying happy hour, was no hindrance to his
tantrum, though Mokuba's whining did nothing to appease him in his time of
need. Regardless, each addition made him happier than the previous, and once
done, the suddenly perfectionistic blonde was at least satisfied.
It was some time after six by
then--nearing seven, perhaps, and though Mokuba insisted that they were
fashionably late, no preteen, (Or Jou,) could turn down the thought of Ice
cream. And, in reality, he was only fueling the energy of the party, a
contribution that, while perhaps unneeded, would probably get the preteen
through a long night spent with kids considerably older than himself.
-----
The Ice Cream shop they ate at was decked out nicely. Imitation spider
and cobwebs were spread generously across tables, chairs, corners, and perhaps
anything that it could�
Realistic spiders and creatures
of the night were spread about, eyes gleaming from shadows while
costume-sporting servers delivered the treats to the patrons.
Bugs and other slimy creatures were actually featured in the ice cream
served that night, prizes going to those who received a smaller, metal one in
their sugary snack. Neither boy found one, though it couldn't be for not
trying; Both nearly inhaled their respective treats, though taking care not to
tarnish either's festive garb. �Brain-Freezes� were not so easily avoided.
When in fact they'd paid and left, it was well towards eight, and it was
not until after that they actually pulled into the attendee-vacant lot.

��Oops.�
�Fashionably late� had gone terribly wrong. Apparently, all the other
guests had arrived by then.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Dance of Dragons