Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Thin Line	By : Rroselavy Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 8050 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: I don't own or profit in way from Yu-Gi-Oh.

Chapter 8
Jou woke up ravenous. It was a good hunger, though, not the starving feeling that he'd become accustomed to. He gazed as his sleeping lover, reflecting on the mystery behind those ice-blue eyes. It all made sense in retrospect, the tension, the insults, the humiliation, belied the attraction they both felt and denied. He smiled contentedly, this sure beat the fighting.
He thought it would be a good time to start paying Kaiba back for his hospitality. He dressed in the black pajamas, wondering absently what had become of his clothes, and padded down to the kitchen to see what he could have the chef whip up for Seto and he to share. In bed.
Mokuba was already up, sitting at a counter. He was munching away at some candy that passed for breakfast cereal.
"Chef's off today, Jou, we're on our own," he said conspiratorily.
"Oh, really. I guess I'll just cook something up then," Jou said brightly. It had been a while since he'd cooked, even longer for someone other than himself.
"You can cook, Jounouchi?" Mokuba asked in disbelief.
His grandfather had taught Jou how to cook. When his mother died and the elder Jounouchi had moved the family of two from Brooklyn to Flushing, every Saturday morning Jou's grandfather would trek to Koreatown and pick up his only grandchild to spend the weekend with. First they would head down to a little Italian coffeehouse in the Village where Jou would be treated to all sorts of Italian pastries while his grandfather sipped espresso and chatted in Italian with some of the oldtimers. Jou was known as Pepe then -- little Joe -- his grandfather was Giuseppe.
After breakfast, they would shop for Italian specialties in some of the traditional grocers and butchers left in the neighborhood in and around Little Italy. Then it was back to Brooklyn to cook up a feast, sometimes for his mother's extended family, but most often just for the two of them. He'd loved those weekends immersed in his mother's warm family, away from the cold distance of his father's household.
For a time after they moved to Japan, his culinary skills had pleased his father, and they had lived together in an uneasy truce. But as his drinking progressed, his father grew less and less interested in food, and Jou lost that advantage.
The kitchen was huge and immaculate. It looked like a restaurant kitchen, a far cry from the galley that passed for a kitchen in his father's apartment. There, he could only keep one burner on the crappy stove working, here was a 6-burner cooktop with a built-in grill. Pots and pans hung from a rack over a center-island butcher block. The Subzero refrigerator was the size of a small truck. Jou opened its refrigerator door, amazed at the array and amount of food available to him. He grabbed six eggs, and perused the vegetables to see if any would lend themselves to a frittata. The produce was fresher than most of the stuff he saw in the supermarket. He grabbed a bunch of spinach with nary a bruise on a leaf, two perfect tomatoes and a plump onion. As an afterthought, he snatched two potatoes for a side. He could not believe his luck when he came across a package of bacon, he could not remember the last time he'd had any.
The chef's knife was beautifully balanced, unlike the cheap piece of shit he'd been hacking with at his father's place, it cut through the onion easily. Jou made short work of chopping the vegetables. He placed diced potatoes in a pot of cold water and set them to boil. There was a large skillet on the cooktop, and he added the bacon to it. He would make the frittata in some bacon drippings. He ground some coffee beans he found, primed the coffeemaker and turned it on. He couldn't believe it, 'Coffee, I must'a died and went to heaven.' His mouth watered as the aromas of hot coffee and bacon frying filled the kitchen.
* * *
Seto woke up to the most tantalizing smells of bacon cooking, momentarily confused as he knew it was the chef's day off. The bed felt cold from Jou's absence.
'And he can cook, too,' he sighed. He lay on his back and thought about the events of the past couple of days. He had thought that bedding Jou would sate the healthy infatuation he'd been nursing, but it only seemed to be deepening. He was intoxicated by the other boy's body, by his musky scent, by the way he cried out his name in need and desire. He and Jou hadn't even had sex ... yet. But they would. As sure as he lived and breathed, he would claim Jou tonight. Maybe then he would be free of his obsession, but somehow, he knew that would not be the case.
It wasn't that he'd never had sex before, he'd had plenty, both men and women. But he'd never felt so all-consumed by his desire for someone. He felt like he was drowning, he was definitely in over his head, but yet he didn't really mind.
It hit him. He was falling in love. With of all people someone who he found it as easy to humiliate as to kiss. Why did that surprise him? Weren't the two emotions love and hate inextricably linked? Two sides of the same coin? The object of his affections would like that analogy. He wondered idly if Jounouchi felt the same, and if he'd been anyone other than Seto Kaiba who always managed to get what he wanted, he might have felt a shadow of doubt. He dressed and sauntered toward the kitchen.
Jou had plated a breakfast for both he and Seto, and was rummaging around for a tray to bring it up on when he noticed Seto watching him from the doorway. He felt a twinge of self-consciousness under the gaze of those cool blue eyes.
He shrugged it off. "G'morning Kaiba, I made ya some breakfast."
Kaiba arched a brow, "Thanks ... Jounouchi." He sat at the counter next to Mokuba, picked up the newspaper and began eating absently while perusing the financial pages. He stopped when he tasted the frittata, it was really good. Delicious, in fact.
"This is good Jounouchi," he commented. Jou was standing opposite him, eating heartily. He hurriedly swallowed, "Thanks, Kaiba. Just figured I could find some way to thank you for lettin' me stay here."
"Seto," Mokuba interrupted, "are we gonna go out today?"
He turned to his brother. "No Mokuba, I have to prepare for a business trip." Mokuba looked downcast. "Perhaps you and Jounouchi can go out," he added.
Mokuba brightened. "That would be great, wouldn't it Jou?"
"Sure, Moku, what do ya want to do?"
Mokuba began rattling off a laundry list of things he wanted to do and buy. Jou pretended to listen, but he couldn't help but wonder what was going on in Kaiba's mind. Everything seemed to be going well, but now he was being dismissed again. Maybe Kaiba was only interested in fucking him. He shrugged to himself, that wasn't so bad. He thought about Kaiba's smooth muscular body, how good it felt under the caresses of his hands, how good it tasted on his tongue.
Both Kaibas were looking at him expectantly. "Well?" the elder asked.
"Well, what?"
Kaiba's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "I was saying," he spoke slowly, "that if it was okay with you, I would lend you some money to buy yourself some clothes." He underscored 'lend' to indicate it was not charity.
Jou looked at him dumbly, puzzled. Kaiba's hospitality was throwing him off balance, his instinct was to distrust.
"So?" Kaiba pressured.
He was in a tight spot. He had no clothes, except for the ones he hadn't seen in two days. He couldn't exactly live in Kaiba's pajamas, and he had no money of his own. He loathed being indebted to Kaiba, but he didn't see any other options at the moment.
"Okay, but I WILL pay you back."
"Yes, you will," Kaiba agreed, and Jou couldn't help but notice the small smirk that played across his lips. Instead of fearing what that smile meant, Jou shivered in anticipation.
Kaiba waited until Mokuba and Jounouchi went out before retiring to his bedroom to check his email. He didn't really need to spend much time packing, he made so many business trips that he'd narrowed it down to a science, he just wanted to be alone. He wasn't used to spending so much time with another person. There were a few messages from his lawyer, each documenting progress being made negotiating with Jou's father. Apparently there was some interest in a monetary exchange. He grimaced in disgust that the man would actually sell his son. The last email from his lawyer was a message saying that the senior Jounouchi was ready to sign away his son for $250,000 cash, but wanted to meet the 'prospective owner' in person.
He called his lawyer and after some back and forth arranged the meeting for 4PM at Jounouchi's residence. He had a glimmer of hope that if he could get Jou's passport, they might yet go to New York together. He daydreamed about how nice it would be to have a companion with him, to have Jou as his companion. He smiled, thinking up ways for them to while away the hours of the flight ...
- 7
- 8
- 9
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