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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
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- 3
- 4
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 Three:

Jounouchi�s POV.
Mokuba stepped out first; apparently wary of his brother's reprimand for
their tardiness. The European tried beautifully hard to stay in the character
he'd assumed. Jouno on the other hand, needed no help. One combat boot, laced
well up and past the ankle, peaked out of his choice of trousers as he stepped
out of the car, the mate following as knee bent to lift himself out of the car.
Once there, he turned towards the festivities, Mokuba closing the door behind
him and tapping the limo only to step back as it pulled away.
The shorter boy led the way inside, Blonde following a little behind,
inhaling the smell of alcohol, writhing bodies and unmistakably, pheromones. He
found he'd...dressed appropriately.
Like many in the crowd, he'd chosen leather. Pants of this material rode
low on his hips, casually hugging the curve of his butt in a most delightful
manner which had gained looks from a few upon his entrance into the
establishment. They carried the tightness down his thighs, molding carefully to
them in the illusion that they might have been sewn on, loosening only a bit in
the most necessary areas, to keep from revealing exclusively defined privates.
The same hugging closeness followed past his knees, flaring into a
thickly meshed black lace that revealed the nearly-knee high boots he'd chosen.
Thin silver chains (obviously solid metal and intended to be slightly less
large than their torture-familiar counterparts) were slung casually about his
hips, apparently without purpose except to draw the attention up his chest and
torso (which was generously exhibited by the close-hugging black wife-beater
he'd chosen) still slightly hidden behind thigh-length leather jacket.
When the heat of the many dancing bodies washed fully over him, he
removed this, slinging it casually over his shoulder with one finger still
within, indirectly exposing the rest of the costume he had chosen. The
wifebeater ended to expose a good five inches of flesh before it encountered
fabric again. Thin black mesh, woven together with an enticing gold color
extended down his biceps and forearms, where it was laced around his fingers
like rings, each finger cuff ending in the same shimmering gold. The arm
warmers were present on both arms, the left sporting a black leather band atop
the black and gold mix. It gave the effect of being thrown together that Jouno
usually sported.
Still, the main attraction was what the continuation of the chains led
you to.
Each, while silver, managed not to clash with the gold that decorated his
arms. In fact, the y served only to emphasize their journey up the flat expanse
of chest to his throat, where he still sported a collar that was not truly
his.**
The chains looped once around his neck in opposite directions, connecting
to the small metal ring the collar carried, and actually putting a stop to the
atrocious jingling.** His hair he seemed to have arranged messily with a bit of
gel; the liquid enhanced and mussed his hair, creating the effect of dampness,
as if he'd gotten out of the shower and shaken it out.
Footsteps, his own, carried Jouno farther into the room, still following
Mokuba. He'd done his makeup lightly, black thinly outlined his eyes, and
lengthened his already long lashes, each tipped with the same gold that
sparkled off of his arms. And now, under the lighting, it could be recognized
the thin strips of almost metallic gold that were dispersed throughout his hair
as well. Still, these small additions were nothing to what completed his
costume almost perfectly.
Steps continued...Where was Mokuba leading him? Apparently away from the
dancing, faintly he thought he could see a shimmering Malik in the distance.
Apparently decked out Egyptian-style.
No surprise there.
As he walked, the light lit
softly the inhuman ears half-hidden beneath and between his hair, but nothing
could disguise the sharp contrast of the tail against the back of his leather
clad legs. The color and style of a Golden Retriever. Interestingly enough, the
figure brown eyes swept onto almost instinctively, one that was hugely
familiar, but not quite recognized, was soon brought out of his line of sight by
a rather rudely shoving twelve-year old. Later realized to have seen the figure
as well, which was...maybe why he did what he did next.
"I was going to let it go, Jounouchi."
�He was saying, still shoving the
blonde back forcefully, through the crowd that parted only very slightly for
them, effectively cloaking them from any interesting views.
"But It's just gonna bug me all night if I do."
Vaguely, he heard a car door open behind him, and he was shoved roughly
down on a leather seat. His first thought, and one that hung with him for
longer than he would've liked, was that Mokuba was trying to rape him. Which
was curiously funny, considering how whatever body parts might have been used
in the act would have immediately after been cut off by the boys older brother.
The door had closed behind them, and Jouno, both uninterested and fearing
certain death, pushed the younger boys hands away from his half-removed
clothing.
"There's no WAY I'm doin' that with you, Mokuba. Not only is it
practic'lly rape, but hell, your bro would KI--"
...The other was laughing, cutting his tirade short and starting to pull
out something from a black duffel he hadn't noticed before.
"Er...what are ya doin',
Mokuba?"
"It's your costume."
Pause. Consider, glance downwards at disheveled clothing. "I'm
wearin'...or...WAS wearin' a costume..."
"Yeah, well, you're not wearing it inside. Just shut up and put it
on."
He was removing something that looked suspiciously like make-up from the
same bag, opening it, and apparently getting things ready.
Grudgingly, and prompted by a glare from the younger Kaiba brother..(Not
quite as effective, but slowly growing to the level of the older..) he removed
the chains and connected collars, off-ed his shirt, and began to change into
what he was...told to wear. When he finally emerged from the car, he shot the
younger brother a death glare, though...he hadn't been disappointed by the
other's good tastes. Instead of the costume which would have...undoubtedly
brought him insults..(Though, he did admit to liking the tail quite a bit..) he
actually felt more kickass than usual.
He'd been allowed to keep his pants, partially because they fit the outfit, and
mostly because he'd refused to remove them.
Black silk replaced the beater, a sheer color that shifted dangerously
between black and crimson. What was beneath was visible at the angle it became
black, but only through the dusky mesh which, to the eye, was a hindrance.
What looked to be wire was secured on the middle of each hand, black and
red twisted together to develop and become first wide ribbon and then lace, the
latter covering his forearm in mixed company of red and black. The jacket had
long since been lost, replaced with a pair of wings that looked as if they'd
been fitted to his torso. They had been slipped on under his shirt, and slid
easily through slits apparently designed for the pair he was wearing.
They were supremely dragon-like, lacking feathers and depicting the very
demeanor he was...apparently�(or so Mokuba told him..) going for. The younger
child had done his makeup, as well. Jounouchi made sure to make the child
regret his putting off the alteration of Jouno�s costume, insisting it would�ve
been easier to do it at his apartment.
Mokuba hadn't changed his skintone, but instead outlined his eyes more
thickly with a black eyeliner, and dusted the tops of his lids with a dusky
black that extended into what appeared to be a fine red glitter. Where the
black ended came a thin line of red, which vanished like magic into the color
of his skin. Mascara was added, to the extent Jouno's eyes probably should have
been sealed shut...but somehow weren't. The black-haired boy'd taken a
mascara-like stick to his hair, as well, red and black streaked through the
blonde, disguising his actual hair color and the thin headband soon placed in
his hair.
With proper wonderment, he found...he could make them move! This he did
incessantly, until the boy screamed at him and the driver came 'round to make
sure no one had died.
Finally, as he re-entered the club and gave Mokuba a look as if to assure
himself he wasn't being dragged back to the car again, he looked about with
contact shaded eyes, focusing and shifting the clear to a brown concealing
crimson�which he fancied completed the picture.

Seto�s POV.
Malik wasn't much of a dog person.
�That was probably why he was the first to glance up from the game. It
could also have been that his company, whom glanced at the short Aristocrat
briefly, completely ignored the pup at first to finish off a drink beside clawed
digits that had been colored to fit the occasion. He needed a drink, to deal
with all of these people. Another one would come to him, eventually.
The blond across from him still had trouble believing it was Seto behind
the wide-eyed silver mask that sat on his cheekbones, and rode out like a beak
along what would have been the perfect slope of his nose. It was so very hard
to believe that he had once come out of an orphanage.
Indeed, to his little brother, it was a distant memory that was
cherished, for those were the days that Seto didn't have to smile and cherish
him in secret.
The wings twitched in thought, and lilac eyes could only glare over to
him. "How do you make them do that anyway?"
"Very carefully."
A set of blinks, glitter scattering before Malik sighed and sent his
fingers out to move a piece onto the top panel. The opponent quickly followed
suit with spindly-clawed digits, raising a piece from the bottom floor also to
greet the piece, and claim it. Spurring the blond into a series of Egyptian
mutterings, the other was left to blink (several times) behind the mask at the
creature.
The pair of them had a mutual understanding: they had both been beaten by
Yuugi, the King of Games, who, to the scowling blond, was also the man that had
been the source of so much misplaced grief. He was also a purebred Egyptian,
which did leave even Seto stunned at the concept of someone who was covered
only in fine gold hair.
It explained how he could ride the fabric so low from his naval, and not
have to spend an hour bitching about something called a Brazilian Wax...
"And you kiss your sister with that mouth?"
Malik blinked. He'd almost completely forgotten that Seto had... a link
to the past that he was trying so desperately to smother to keep his brother
from worrying about it.
Shoulders slumped, before he huffed and rose from his padded footstool of
a seat, fabric licking at his ankles as he made his way downstairs. The
temporarily raven-haired youth moved fingers out with a sigh to reset the
pieces, before he too rose to slippered feet, and let ears flick and stretch
with the rest of him. Two-hour games were relatively short by his standards.
----
Where the hells was Jou...?
Mokuba said he would bring him, and looking down to the thin black chord
that bore a bead of black revealing the time, he sighed. Nine o'clock and he
wasn't here. ...Maybe he should have invi�
... The thought never finished itself, releasing a grunt as he stalked
his way downstairs, a pair of silver tails, hanging off the base of the wings
that glistened in bright blue, dancing out behind him as he made his way down
the stairs to the first level, wading his way through the crowd.
...For the bar. Flopping into a
stool, he held of two fingers and murmured a,
"Long Island,"
�Before releasing a breath to himself and turning on the stool to look
out at the crowd.
"...Some birthday party."
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The Dance of Dragons