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love dog	By : Rroselavy Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6637 -:- 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.

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Title: love dog. (3/?)

Author: Rroselavy

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: S/j, J/oc, OC/j, S/oc, S/j/oc

Beta: Akuchan

Spoilers: None

Summary: To protect his family, Jounouchi Katsuya works as a prostitute in a teahouse. When Kaiba Seto happens upon the blond in his new vocation, he becomes determined once and for all to put the blond in his place. Neither man is prepared for the fallout from the power exchange of their sexual liaisons.

* * * *

Kaiba Seto is insatiable, I think, as He takes me for the third time. His hands trace over my chest, brushing lightly over my nipples, which are each trapped between two parallel chords. It is a delicious sensation-the tightness of the ropes pressing them into erection, and sensitizing them to any touch. I arch my back, hoping that He gets my less-than subtle message, even though He's not obliged to tend to my needs. He grins down at me, a genuine smile gracing His sweat-soaked face, which translates into an involuntary twitch in my cock, and then proceeds to lightly fondle them until I writhe involuntarily from the heightening arousal. I've not been allowed to come, and my cock stands engorged and purple between us, itself confined in a triangle of intricately tied ropes. At this moment, I can fantasize that I'm not His whore-that He isn't fucking me, but rather we are making love, and that He, not Haha, has prepared me by tying my body up in the intricate bindings of the Shibari style. He tongues one nub that He has been worrying, and I gasp from the sensation; waves of electricity tingle along my nerve endings. God He can make me feel things that I never imagined. A gentle breeze rustles through the branches above us, and I feel petals skating over my exposed skin; the cherry blossoms in the garden are just past their peak, and they snow down upon us. I feel His climax building inside me, and His thrusts become erratic as He pumps into me and then collapses on top of me. There is comfort in His full weight pressing down on me, pressing the worry out of my body. I feel attached and wanted.

"Did you read the books I left for you?" He whispers in my ear as His hand ghosts over my cock. I nod my head, my throat suddenly dry. He deftly loosens the cock ring, restoring some of the blood flow, and I strain not to come.

"Tell me what you thought." I pant as He takes my cock in His hand and squeezes. "Tell me about the books, if you want come," He purrs, and if I wasn't so desperate for release, I would find this strange kink hilarious. We're not in high school after all. But I want to come. Badly. And He is willing to service me, so despite how much I profess to hate Him, the idea of the mighty Kaiba Seto jacking off the lowly Jounouchi Katsuya is more than enough of a reason to comply.

It's been six weeks since we were last together, and besides Thus Spoke Zarasuthra, He's sent over The Prince, and The Red and the Black. Two weeks for each book was enough time to read through them a couple of times. His ministrations prove too much, and as coherently as I can, while he is doing intensely erotic things to me, I tell him what I thought of each volume; Nietzsche's was by far the most disturbing, while I found The Prince extremely cynical, and The Red and the Black incredibly sad. One hand strokes my cock in earnest, and with the other He removes the cock ring. I come violently over His fingers, and He holds them to my lips.

"Lick them clean," He orders, and I do, quickly swallowing the salty fluid, trying not to linger on how gross I think it is. But then He is kissing me, His tongue examining every dip and crevice in my mouth; His heady taste fills my mouth, and I ache for more. He loosens the knot on my bindings, and the ropes fall away. I feel His cock harden against me, and then suddenly His weight is gone, He's removed Himself to the nearby bench. "Look at what you've done, you little slut, I'm hard again." He waits for me expectantly.

My ass screams at the thought of being fucked again, but I catch His wicked grin, and the hungered expression on His face is intoxicating. I find that I want to please Him. I push aside the thought of how disgusting that is, and instead, as I crawl towards him, I picture how utterly breathtaking it is to watch Tomi in this position; his fuckable body swaying lasciviously as he crawls towards me. I wonder if I look half as good as he does, and I'm rewarded by a low groan from my Master. Evidently, I please Him. I smile to myself; it dawns on me that I do have some power in this relationship. I think about how good it feels when I'm with Tomi; when he obeys me; when he attacks his tasks with relish. He has given himself over to me body and mind; he trusts me completely, which is something I've never wholeheartedly been able to do with Him. I merely go through the motions of being His, but I've never totally given in, maybe if I did, I wouldn't feel so empty when He leaves. But then I waiver. How can I ever trust Him? He despises me.

And yet, when I encase His cock with my lips and feel His pulse race along its length, I know He doesn't hate that. He threads His fingers through my hair, but refrains from thrusting, allowing me to work over His shaft with abandon. He makes the most erotic noises as I lick over the crown and dip my tongue into the slit and taste the copious pre-cum that has pooled there, I feel His cock twitch, and can tell that He is close to coming. When He does, I swallow eagerly, and then sit back on my knees, waiting patiently for His next command. I'm semi-erect again, and I try desperately to avoid thoughts that will fully arouse me, but I crave his contact. After a few minutes of silence, I wriggle my way into His lap and nestle my head under His chin. I know that it is a gamble, and first He does nothing, then I feel His body stiffen, and I tense, fully expecting to be dumped on my ass. But then He sighs and wraps His arms around me. In His haste to fuck me, He hadn't bothered to undress, but with the rare opportunity being afforded me, I realize that I want to slide my hand over His naked skin. Tentatively I fuss at His open collar, pushing it aside so that I can lay my head next to my hand on His bared breastbone. He hugs me tighter, and though initially it feels awkward, I'm comforted by it; I nestle closer, listening to the even thump-thump of his heartbeat, slowly drifting off to sleep.

I'm awakened by the vibration of His cellphone. "Fucking hell," He swears, and I realize that He was actually enjoying the interlude, or rather, enjoying it enough that the phone call is an unwanted interruption. "I've been tied to that fucking company for weeks, and they can't leave me the hell alone for one afternoon?" He asks rhetorically. Of course they can't I think, He's always been the heart and soul of Kaiba Corp. He nudges me. "I need to take this." I move to get off His lap as He extracts the offensive device from His pocket, but He stops me. "It'll only be a minute-What is it?" He barks into the receiver.

I pick up the kimono, shrug it on, and tie it loosely, before padding over to the koi pond that is the centerpiece of the garden. I worry at a small tear in the seam of the garment; he'd manhandled it trying to get it off me. After trussing me, Haha had draped it over my body, and the knot He'd tied in the obi had given my Master some trouble. I'm sure that He will replace it; I don't think that He likes His things sullied.

I sit down at the water's edge and stare at the koi that swim aimlessly about in their prison, waiting to be fed. We are not so unalike I think; I spend most of my time wandering aimlessly about the private rooms of the teahouse, waiting for my Master. Although, training Tomi has proven to be a lovely distraction for me, and my reading assignments have also served me well in passing the time. I hear His voice rise above the white noise of the small waterfall that feeds into the pond; He's pissed and I'm relieved that I'm not the object of His ire. He lowers His voice again and I turn my attention back to the colorful fish; I'm so engrossed that I jump when I feel His hands on my shoulders. He gives them a cursory kneading and then says, "Come on, I've ordered lunch for us, and it's arrived."

Two bento boxes have magically appeared on the blanket that we'd occupied earlier. At least it's not teahouse fare; lately I've had a hard time eating meals. As if He's read my mind, He comments dryly, "Don't they feed you enough here? You're too thin."

I'm at a loss for words, so I stare down at my food. Should I tell him that I've been worrying myself sick over my father's deteriorating condition? That the last time I saw him, he accused me of being happy that he is dying; told me that he knew I couldn't wait to be rid of him. Or what about the threats to my sister that Haha relayed to me?

"Jounouchi, eat." He commands softly. "You must be hungry ..." His voice trails off and I look at Him expectantly and catch something in His expression. Embarrassment? I pick up my chopsticks and obediently begin to eat. The food is delicious, and I polish off the contents of the box quickly. I look over at His; He's laid His chopsticks down. "You can have the rest." He pushes the box towards me.

"Thank you," I say softly, then quickly add, "Master." He sighs audibly, and from the corner of my eye, I watch Him run His elegant hands through His hair.

"Don't call me that." He says finally, and coldness washes over me. Is He rejecting me? I put the chopsticks down; suddenly I'm no longer hungry. "What's the matter?" He asks with annoyance.

"I've made you mad." I say, eyes locked on the ground. I feel His fingertips under my chin, and He tilts my head up until my eyes meet His.

"No you haven't." I know that He's lying. He sighs again and then changes the subject. "Tell me more about the books I left for you." He picks up my chopsticks and offers me a slice of negimaki. He feeds me, and in between bites we discuss the themes and plots of each of the books. I'd been amazed to actually read the book from which came the quote "God is dead," but it was completely disturbing to read about the concept of the 'ubermensch,' a race superior to humans that we are supposed to evolve into; it reminded me of what the Nazis tried to do in Germany.

"Then it shouldn't surprise you that Hitler looked upon this book as inspiration."

"That's just so fucked up."

"Well, I don't think Nietzsche intended it to be a blueprint for the Holocaust." He dismisses. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around what is happening. We are talking, having a conversation ... as if we are friends. There's something terribly wrong and poignant. I think that He must be very lonely. But I can't feel sorry for Him. After all, He will leave me here and go live His life, fully knowing that I wait, at His beck and call. I need to refocus my thoughts before I allow my anger to burn through; it doesn't pay to be angry here. I should be grateful for the small charity that He gives me.

We move on to The Prince, and then the box is empty; He lays the chopsticks down once again. "Come over here." He orders, and He seats me between His legs, my back against His chest. "You must be sore," He whispers in my ear. I nod my head, even though I know that admission might make what comes worse for me. "And yet, you're hard," He remarks casually as He rubs His hand against my erection. I gasp at the sensual touch-my body is so tuned to His ministrations now-and then His other hand has loosened the obi, and He is toying with my nipples again. "Tell me how much you want me to touch you here," He whispers, squeezing my cock. I buck against him.

"Please, don't stop," I whine breathily. At this point, I'm past caring; I'll grovel at His feet if I have to.

He expertly strokes the length of my cock and chuckles in my ear. "Keep talking," He teases. "About the books." God, He is one fucked-up piece of work I think, but what He's doing to me drives all coherent thought about that out of my mind, and instead I try to focus my thoughts on the last book. It is a Herculaean task. He's certainly inventive in His methods of torment.

I tell him that I feel bad for Julien Sorel, the protagonist of The Red and the Black; I don't think he deserved to be betrayed and then subsequently executed.

"He made his own bed," He replies cryptically, as He speeds up His strokes. I wonder if that is how He sees my situation, and slowly I come to realize that His words bear a fundamental truth. I can't blame my father for this situation that I'm in anymore; it was my choice; I could have, should have, walked away from him and his impossible addictions. But I didn't, and now I've only myself to blame for the position I'm in.

"That's true," I say tentatively, and as I feel my climax building I gasp, "but it doesn't make it any less tragic." He nods His head against my shoulder, and then nibbles on my earlobe, and that small action pushes me over the edge. I come again over His hand. He picks up a linen napkin and carefully wipes both of His hands clean.

He looks at His watch. "I need to be going soon. I thought I'd have more time." Yeah, more time to fuck me, I think. I feel His erection pressing against the crack of my ass. "Do you still have your deck?"

I freeze. I hadn't thought about my deck since ... since my father sold it out from under me. I shake my head.

"That's too bad ..." He muses. "What happened to it?" I don't want to talk about this. It's too painful, humiliating. He tilts my chin up. "I know how much your cards meant to you Jounouchi, I can't believe that you'd just get rid of them." I wonder then how much He knows about my situation. I wouldn't put it past Him to have researched it all so that He could use it against me at an opportune moment, just when I'd started to believe that things ... could be different between us. "Well?" He persists.

"My dad sold them," I blurt, and I feel hot tears leak down my cheeks. Happy now? I wait for Him to chide me or ridicule me.

Instead, He says, "I'm sorry to hear that," and I'm left to wonder exactly what the point of that exchange was. Before I can ask Him, He's gotten up. "I'm going away on business. You won't see me for a while," He says, rearranging His clothes to their meticulous drape. I wonder how much extra He pays for such miraculous fabrics; there's nary a wrinkle to them. He turns back to me, His expression unreadable. "Try not to miss me too much."
~tbc~
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love dog