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not_hathorThe Shadow at Your Door, Chap. 5-A
A Yu-gi-oh!/Stargate SG-1 fanfiction story
Rating: PG-13 for swearing, suggestive language, and male/male relationships (Shonen-Ai, hint
of LIME, RBxSK). Spoilers if you haven't seen StarGate SG-1 season 7 yet.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or any of the characters thereof. They belong to Kazuki Takahashi/ Shueisha Inc., FUNImation Productions, 4Kids, etc. L This piece of fiction was written solely for the enjoyment of myself and fellow Yu-Gi-Oh! fans, and no profit is being made by its writing or publication.
Author's Note: Five improbable things you will need to know to better understand this story: 1) It is definitely SHONEN-AI, though not explicitly so (a twist of Lime). 2) It is definitely AU, set after end of the Yugioh manga/anime series, and between the episode "Heroes" and the season finale of SG-1's season Seven – the confrontation with Zorc Necrophades and the Ceremonial Duel occurred, but not exactly as depicted in the manga/anime. 3) It is commonly believed in the context of this fanfic that the Spirit of the Sennen Ring, aka Yami Bakura, aka the Tomb Robber, no longer exists although Ryou retains certain characteristics & attitudes (especially when he loses his temper); ditto for Marik/Malik. 4) For the main story, the following ages apply: Seto is 25 - Ryou is 24 - Mokuba is 19 and in college. 5) It's my presumption that frequent use of or exposure to the Sennen Items results in an increased sensitivity to the presence of magic and limited access to any lingering residue of mystical energies.
*********************
Chapter 5A – Lemon Meringue
*********************
Marik sniggered and followed, proclaiming grandly, "My work here is done." Then glancing over his shoulder as he started down the stairs himself, he added: "Get a room, you two."
"Drop dead, Tomb Keeper."
"No, no, actually that was a good idea, aibou. Your place or mine?"
"Well, Mokuba's got first dibs on the penthouse tonight…"
"Mine." And with that Ryou reached up, buried his hands in chestnut silk and pulled Seto's head down.
"Yours," the other agreed, weaving his own fingers through silver-white strands and meeting his partner's lips with his own. "As you are mine."
In the first giddy incredulous wonder of reunion it had been enough – more than enough! – to simply hold each other, arms wrapped desperately tight around the other’s torso, to breathe deeply and become re-acquainted with the unique, dusky scent that, regardless of such intruding distractions as cologne or atmospheric irritations, was his and his alone. Now, in the wake of departing friends and family, came the need for more specific tactile reassurance: fingers caressing, combing through the other’s hair, so soft, so light; faces close enough to feel the flushed heat of the other’s skin; feather-light brush of lips against lips that open -- oh! So sweetly! -- at the careful cautious pressure….
And for the first time in nearly two years feeling complete. Whole; not fractured into shards that only sheer will-power kept from falling, scattering, dissolving and disappearing into bleak lonely desolation. But trembling still, not in fear nor yet desire, but from the overpowering sense of ‘At last!’ and ‘Don’t let go!’
“Cold?” The breeze up in the crow’s nest was brisk, and Ryou’s clothing must certainly be damp from perspiration brought on by the blazing hot stage lights and vigorous exercise common to live performances of all kinds; Seto had certainly endured his share of similar discomforts at the height of his Dueling career. It took only a moment to shrug off the outer coat he wore and sling it around the other’s silk-clad shoulders. He felt rather than saw the smile of thanks that blossomed across Ryou’s face; they were still that close to each other, and thought abruptly that this must be close to how Yuugi Mouto had felt the day Atemu returned, unlooked for, but certainly no less welcome for all that.
“Not any more.” Eyes bright with joy, almost glowing….
“…Let’s go home.”
‘Home’ apparently was a hotel not far from the stadium; but getting there involved a brief detour through the dressing room, perfunctory introductions to the rest of the band (‘This is Seto; see you in the morning’), complete with startled looks from several members of the crew and knowing smirks from Ishtar and Asakura, a hasty wardrobe change for Ryou that included an over-sized ‘hoodie’ and dark glasses as a make-shift disguise against any potentially lurking groupies (again, something Seto had his own painful experiences in dealing with) and a mad dash from stadium side door to the waiting Kaiba Corp. limousine. Seto collapsed into the upholstery next to Ryou, both men breathless from the sudden exertion and contagious laughter at the ludicrousness of the situation.
“Instructions, Mr. Kaiba?” the driver inquired, then noticing the unexpected passenger added warmly, “Good to see you again, Master Ryou.”
“Isono-san!” Ryou sat up abruptly, beaming with delight. “How are you? And Midori-san – is she well? It’s been – oh!” A flush of embarrassment pinked his cheeks and he lowered his eyes to the floor. “Oh! I’m sorry, Isono-san, I should have… I didn’t think…”
“No harm, Master Ryou. Michi-chan and I were able to attend one of the Kyoto concerts, thanks to Master Mokuba,” the trusted Kaiba family retainer added dryly with a meaningful glance at his glowering employer.
“Was everyone in on the secret except me?” Seto growled, but long years of service had pretty much immunized the older man to the other’s infamous glares.
“I had my orders, sir,” Isono answered cryptically, then directed his next words to the pale-haired singer. “Where do we need to go first, Bakura-san?”
“Dissention in the ranks,” grumbled the elder Kaiba as Ryou gave the name of the hotel to his driver. “Mutiny, conspiracy…” A chilled hand atop his own brought an end to the complaint, and Seto looked up into the dark chocolate-brown eyes of the man he loved and had thought lost. A brief half- smile brightened his expression. “Isono.”
“Yes, Mr. Kaiba?”
“Drive.”
*********************
“You’re joking,” Seto stated flatly, pivoting a full 360 degrees to take in the less than 5-star accommodations revealed by a quick swipe of Ryou’s card key. “The United States Air Force can’t afford top quality?”
“It’s called ‘keeping a low profile’, Seto.” The white-haired singer pushed past his stunned guest and dropped his kit atop the king-sized bed near the center of the room. “It’s private, there’s a fully stocked mini-bar, 24 hour room service, a hot tub behind that bamboo divider and…” Ryou paused and stretched leisurely, reaching towards the ceiling and then swinging around gracefully to face the other man. “Plenty of room for warm-ups, cool-downs and meditation kata,” he continued. “We could have had the ‘Honeymoon Suite’ but that would have been tacky, not to mention crowded. I want a shower.”
Seto blinked at the abrupt change of topic, then smirked. “Don’t let me stop you.”
The borrowed ‘hoodie’ hit the floor, followed by the long-sleeved silk shirt Ryou had thrown on over the tank top he’d worn on stage earlier (Seto had long since reclaimed his trench coat). “I rather hoped,” the shorter man said softly, looking up through sweat-matted bangs at his companion in that shy manner that always made the breath catch in Seto’s throat, “that you might care to assist?”
“I might.” Without further thought, he moved to cup Ryou’s face with both hands, gently ghosting his thumbs across those delicate cheekbones before slipping long fingers through the feather-softness of pale hair. “Ryou.”
Those who knew Seto Kaiba through business or the Dueling community would have been shocked at the sight of the blunt, ruthless CEO, who had been known to react violently to being touched (even accidentally), not only voluntarily reach out to another person but do so gently, even hesitantly. It had been a bitter lesson, one painfully learned years ago: his pride still stinging from the recent defeats of the Battle City Tournament, Seto had lashed out with angry aggression when a mishap had placed Ryou at cross-purposes to his will. Ryou’s reaction had been fueled by pent-up resentment against the pawn’s role a possessive Spirit had recently forced him to play, and a new-found determination to resist future attempts at control and intimidation – by anyone. Scared and confused, with neither teenager understanding exactly what had happened or why, it had taken weeks of uncertain soul-searching, some well-meaning interference by friends and family, and ultimately a near tragedy to bring the two of them together again in something other than wary antagonism. Seto had relearned the value of patience, and that ‘gentle’ does not always mean ‘weak’; what Ryou had learned ….
Seto’s back hit the closet door as his body was propelled with surprising force across the room by slender arms belonging to one of the only two people in the world he allowed to take such liberties with his person. Ryou’s hands were living manacles around his wrists, and the shorter man used this grip to leverage his own body upwards, stretching to reach the other’s mouth. Suddenly hungry for contact, Seto obliged by meeting eager lips more than halfway for a long heated kiss, then breaking off to pepper what he could reach of Ryou’s neck with affectionate nips and nibbles, and getting a mouthful of hair for his trouble. The tall CEO growled, then with a subtle twist of the wrists broke the other’s grip long enough to implement a counter-attack and pulled him closer -- torso to torso, groin against groin.
“What do you want, Bakura?” he demanded hoarsely, already knowing the answer. Ryou’s face was flushed, beautiful amber colored eyes half-lidded, panting for breath after the ferocity of their earlier kiss.
“Only what you’re willing to give, Seto Kaiba.”
Breathless himself, somehow he managed an infuriating smirk as he hoisted the other off his feet; Ryou promptly vice-gripped his knees around Seto’s waist for support and buried his face against the sweet hollow of his throat where the shirt collar gapped.
“If you think you can handle it, kitsune.”
The former Ring Holder paused in his pursuit of unfastening the buttons of Seto’s shirt with his teeth and delicately licked along the other man’s jaw line, sending tremors of sensation coursing through his body. “Is that a challenge, idiot dragon?” he whispered breathily. “I accept.”
“Ryou,” the taller man groaned, letting his head fall back against the door panel and baring his neck fully to the other’s eager ministrations. “And people think…. Ahhhhh! ….. you’re the …… innocent .... one……”
Which was another irony – some of those same associates unwilling to consider the notions of ‘gentle’ and ‘Seto Kaiba’ together in the same sentence, let alone the same reality, had been equally reluctant to entertain the concept of an assertive Ryou Bakura unless the Spirit of the Millennium Ring could, however mistakenly, be held accountable. Seto had expected violent opposition to their relationship from most, if not all, of the so-called ‘friendship circle’; had in fact braced himself for a ‘Mind Crush’ courtesy of Yuugi’s Puzzle Spirit once the particulars became known. The Spirit of the Puzzle had indeed gone into ‘righteous wrath’ mode; surprisingly, it had been the mutt and his motorcycle riding sidekick who sat on the quondam Pharaoh long enough for the normally soft-spoken Bakura to quite literally read the riot act to the King of Games, making it quite clear to all present that any retribution against Kaiba for past trespasses was HIS decision to make, and he chose….
To forgive. Which was so totally Ryou that no one had dared suggest it was the Tomb Robber in control, then or ten seconds later, when the Ring Holder turned his back on the flabbergasted pharaoh and dragged Seto into a liplock that brought the teen CEO to his knees, overwhelmed by whirling emotions and wondering if he HAD actually been Mind-Crushed again and this was the prelude to oblivion, and if so, let’s hear it for Oblivion!
“Shower,” the dearly beloved author of his past and current torment reminded, shifting slightly in his embrace. Seto smirked into the nearly bare shoulder in front of him, then nipped lightly at the soft skin. Ryou squeaked.
“Se--to…oh!”
Early on Seto had been startled to discover that strong emotion, whether love or anger, turned Ryou’s eyes a rich amber gold. Privately, he’d thought it might be the Ring Spirit’s influence but oddly enough that didn’t bother him; Seto Kaiba had never been one to turn way from either a bargain or a challenge, and the symbiotic relationship between 20th Century teen and Old Kingdom Egyptian tomb robber (once he’d reluctantly acknowledged its existence) was an intriguing tangle that he had simply been unable to resist. To his un-spoken chagrin, the thief had proved elusive and surfaced primarily in times of stress and danger to protect his ‘yadounushi’; under the circumstances Seto had been more than grateful for his intervention and had reluctantly agreed to respect a tomb robber’s ‘last request’ and let tired Ring Spirits rest in whatever modicum of peace they achieved after the incident with Zorc Necrophades.
He had his suspicions, however, that TouZouku-ou might not be as departed as was generally assumed.
*****************************
TBC.....
Tomorrow I'll see about the NaNo bits.....
A Yu-gi-oh!/Stargate SG-1 fanfiction story
Rating: PG-13 for swearing, suggestive language, and male/male relationships (Shonen-Ai, hint
of LIME, RBxSK). Spoilers if you haven't seen StarGate SG-1 season 7 yet.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or any of the characters thereof. They belong to Kazuki Takahashi/ Shueisha Inc., FUNImation Productions, 4Kids, etc. L This piece of fiction was written solely for the enjoyment of myself and fellow Yu-Gi-Oh! fans, and no profit is being made by its writing or publication.
Author's Note: Five improbable things you will need to know to better understand this story: 1) It is definitely SHONEN-AI, though not explicitly so (a twist of Lime). 2) It is definitely AU, set after end of the Yugioh manga/anime series, and between the episode "Heroes" and the season finale of SG-1's season Seven – the confrontation with Zorc Necrophades and the Ceremonial Duel occurred, but not exactly as depicted in the manga/anime. 3) It is commonly believed in the context of this fanfic that the Spirit of the Sennen Ring, aka Yami Bakura, aka the Tomb Robber, no longer exists although Ryou retains certain characteristics & attitudes (especially when he loses his temper); ditto for Marik/Malik. 4) For the main story, the following ages apply: Seto is 25 - Ryou is 24 - Mokuba is 19 and in college. 5) It's my presumption that frequent use of or exposure to the Sennen Items results in an increased sensitivity to the presence of magic and limited access to any lingering residue of mystical energies.
*********************
Chapter 5A – Lemon Meringue
*********************
Marik sniggered and followed, proclaiming grandly, "My work here is done." Then glancing over his shoulder as he started down the stairs himself, he added: "Get a room, you two."
"Drop dead, Tomb Keeper."
"No, no, actually that was a good idea, aibou. Your place or mine?"
"Well, Mokuba's got first dibs on the penthouse tonight…"
"Mine." And with that Ryou reached up, buried his hands in chestnut silk and pulled Seto's head down.
"Yours," the other agreed, weaving his own fingers through silver-white strands and meeting his partner's lips with his own. "As you are mine."
In the first giddy incredulous wonder of reunion it had been enough – more than enough! – to simply hold each other, arms wrapped desperately tight around the other’s torso, to breathe deeply and become re-acquainted with the unique, dusky scent that, regardless of such intruding distractions as cologne or atmospheric irritations, was his and his alone. Now, in the wake of departing friends and family, came the need for more specific tactile reassurance: fingers caressing, combing through the other’s hair, so soft, so light; faces close enough to feel the flushed heat of the other’s skin; feather-light brush of lips against lips that open -- oh! So sweetly! -- at the careful cautious pressure….
And for the first time in nearly two years feeling complete. Whole; not fractured into shards that only sheer will-power kept from falling, scattering, dissolving and disappearing into bleak lonely desolation. But trembling still, not in fear nor yet desire, but from the overpowering sense of ‘At last!’ and ‘Don’t let go!’
“Cold?” The breeze up in the crow’s nest was brisk, and Ryou’s clothing must certainly be damp from perspiration brought on by the blazing hot stage lights and vigorous exercise common to live performances of all kinds; Seto had certainly endured his share of similar discomforts at the height of his Dueling career. It took only a moment to shrug off the outer coat he wore and sling it around the other’s silk-clad shoulders. He felt rather than saw the smile of thanks that blossomed across Ryou’s face; they were still that close to each other, and thought abruptly that this must be close to how Yuugi Mouto had felt the day Atemu returned, unlooked for, but certainly no less welcome for all that.
“Not any more.” Eyes bright with joy, almost glowing….
“…Let’s go home.”
‘Home’ apparently was a hotel not far from the stadium; but getting there involved a brief detour through the dressing room, perfunctory introductions to the rest of the band (‘This is Seto; see you in the morning’), complete with startled looks from several members of the crew and knowing smirks from Ishtar and Asakura, a hasty wardrobe change for Ryou that included an over-sized ‘hoodie’ and dark glasses as a make-shift disguise against any potentially lurking groupies (again, something Seto had his own painful experiences in dealing with) and a mad dash from stadium side door to the waiting Kaiba Corp. limousine. Seto collapsed into the upholstery next to Ryou, both men breathless from the sudden exertion and contagious laughter at the ludicrousness of the situation.
“Instructions, Mr. Kaiba?” the driver inquired, then noticing the unexpected passenger added warmly, “Good to see you again, Master Ryou.”
“Isono-san!” Ryou sat up abruptly, beaming with delight. “How are you? And Midori-san – is she well? It’s been – oh!” A flush of embarrassment pinked his cheeks and he lowered his eyes to the floor. “Oh! I’m sorry, Isono-san, I should have… I didn’t think…”
“No harm, Master Ryou. Michi-chan and I were able to attend one of the Kyoto concerts, thanks to Master Mokuba,” the trusted Kaiba family retainer added dryly with a meaningful glance at his glowering employer.
“Was everyone in on the secret except me?” Seto growled, but long years of service had pretty much immunized the older man to the other’s infamous glares.
“I had my orders, sir,” Isono answered cryptically, then directed his next words to the pale-haired singer. “Where do we need to go first, Bakura-san?”
“Dissention in the ranks,” grumbled the elder Kaiba as Ryou gave the name of the hotel to his driver. “Mutiny, conspiracy…” A chilled hand atop his own brought an end to the complaint, and Seto looked up into the dark chocolate-brown eyes of the man he loved and had thought lost. A brief half- smile brightened his expression. “Isono.”
“Yes, Mr. Kaiba?”
“Drive.”
*********************
“You’re joking,” Seto stated flatly, pivoting a full 360 degrees to take in the less than 5-star accommodations revealed by a quick swipe of Ryou’s card key. “The United States Air Force can’t afford top quality?”
“It’s called ‘keeping a low profile’, Seto.” The white-haired singer pushed past his stunned guest and dropped his kit atop the king-sized bed near the center of the room. “It’s private, there’s a fully stocked mini-bar, 24 hour room service, a hot tub behind that bamboo divider and…” Ryou paused and stretched leisurely, reaching towards the ceiling and then swinging around gracefully to face the other man. “Plenty of room for warm-ups, cool-downs and meditation kata,” he continued. “We could have had the ‘Honeymoon Suite’ but that would have been tacky, not to mention crowded. I want a shower.”
Seto blinked at the abrupt change of topic, then smirked. “Don’t let me stop you.”
The borrowed ‘hoodie’ hit the floor, followed by the long-sleeved silk shirt Ryou had thrown on over the tank top he’d worn on stage earlier (Seto had long since reclaimed his trench coat). “I rather hoped,” the shorter man said softly, looking up through sweat-matted bangs at his companion in that shy manner that always made the breath catch in Seto’s throat, “that you might care to assist?”
“I might.” Without further thought, he moved to cup Ryou’s face with both hands, gently ghosting his thumbs across those delicate cheekbones before slipping long fingers through the feather-softness of pale hair. “Ryou.”
Those who knew Seto Kaiba through business or the Dueling community would have been shocked at the sight of the blunt, ruthless CEO, who had been known to react violently to being touched (even accidentally), not only voluntarily reach out to another person but do so gently, even hesitantly. It had been a bitter lesson, one painfully learned years ago: his pride still stinging from the recent defeats of the Battle City Tournament, Seto had lashed out with angry aggression when a mishap had placed Ryou at cross-purposes to his will. Ryou’s reaction had been fueled by pent-up resentment against the pawn’s role a possessive Spirit had recently forced him to play, and a new-found determination to resist future attempts at control and intimidation – by anyone. Scared and confused, with neither teenager understanding exactly what had happened or why, it had taken weeks of uncertain soul-searching, some well-meaning interference by friends and family, and ultimately a near tragedy to bring the two of them together again in something other than wary antagonism. Seto had relearned the value of patience, and that ‘gentle’ does not always mean ‘weak’; what Ryou had learned ….
Seto’s back hit the closet door as his body was propelled with surprising force across the room by slender arms belonging to one of the only two people in the world he allowed to take such liberties with his person. Ryou’s hands were living manacles around his wrists, and the shorter man used this grip to leverage his own body upwards, stretching to reach the other’s mouth. Suddenly hungry for contact, Seto obliged by meeting eager lips more than halfway for a long heated kiss, then breaking off to pepper what he could reach of Ryou’s neck with affectionate nips and nibbles, and getting a mouthful of hair for his trouble. The tall CEO growled, then with a subtle twist of the wrists broke the other’s grip long enough to implement a counter-attack and pulled him closer -- torso to torso, groin against groin.
“What do you want, Bakura?” he demanded hoarsely, already knowing the answer. Ryou’s face was flushed, beautiful amber colored eyes half-lidded, panting for breath after the ferocity of their earlier kiss.
“Only what you’re willing to give, Seto Kaiba.”
Breathless himself, somehow he managed an infuriating smirk as he hoisted the other off his feet; Ryou promptly vice-gripped his knees around Seto’s waist for support and buried his face against the sweet hollow of his throat where the shirt collar gapped.
“If you think you can handle it, kitsune.”
The former Ring Holder paused in his pursuit of unfastening the buttons of Seto’s shirt with his teeth and delicately licked along the other man’s jaw line, sending tremors of sensation coursing through his body. “Is that a challenge, idiot dragon?” he whispered breathily. “I accept.”
“Ryou,” the taller man groaned, letting his head fall back against the door panel and baring his neck fully to the other’s eager ministrations. “And people think…. Ahhhhh! ….. you’re the …… innocent .... one……”
Which was another irony – some of those same associates unwilling to consider the notions of ‘gentle’ and ‘Seto Kaiba’ together in the same sentence, let alone the same reality, had been equally reluctant to entertain the concept of an assertive Ryou Bakura unless the Spirit of the Millennium Ring could, however mistakenly, be held accountable. Seto had expected violent opposition to their relationship from most, if not all, of the so-called ‘friendship circle’; had in fact braced himself for a ‘Mind Crush’ courtesy of Yuugi’s Puzzle Spirit once the particulars became known. The Spirit of the Puzzle had indeed gone into ‘righteous wrath’ mode; surprisingly, it had been the mutt and his motorcycle riding sidekick who sat on the quondam Pharaoh long enough for the normally soft-spoken Bakura to quite literally read the riot act to the King of Games, making it quite clear to all present that any retribution against Kaiba for past trespasses was HIS decision to make, and he chose….
To forgive. Which was so totally Ryou that no one had dared suggest it was the Tomb Robber in control, then or ten seconds later, when the Ring Holder turned his back on the flabbergasted pharaoh and dragged Seto into a liplock that brought the teen CEO to his knees, overwhelmed by whirling emotions and wondering if he HAD actually been Mind-Crushed again and this was the prelude to oblivion, and if so, let’s hear it for Oblivion!
“Shower,” the dearly beloved author of his past and current torment reminded, shifting slightly in his embrace. Seto smirked into the nearly bare shoulder in front of him, then nipped lightly at the soft skin. Ryou squeaked.
“Se--to…oh!”
Early on Seto had been startled to discover that strong emotion, whether love or anger, turned Ryou’s eyes a rich amber gold. Privately, he’d thought it might be the Ring Spirit’s influence but oddly enough that didn’t bother him; Seto Kaiba had never been one to turn way from either a bargain or a challenge, and the symbiotic relationship between 20th Century teen and Old Kingdom Egyptian tomb robber (once he’d reluctantly acknowledged its existence) was an intriguing tangle that he had simply been unable to resist. To his un-spoken chagrin, the thief had proved elusive and surfaced primarily in times of stress and danger to protect his ‘yadounushi’; under the circumstances Seto had been more than grateful for his intervention and had reluctantly agreed to respect a tomb robber’s ‘last request’ and let tired Ring Spirits rest in whatever modicum of peace they achieved after the incident with Zorc Necrophades.
He had his suspicions, however, that TouZouku-ou might not be as departed as was generally assumed.
*****************************
TBC.....
Tomorrow I'll see about the NaNo bits.....
