"What a hell of a feeling,
It is dark all day,
But there's something in the sky that glows…"
- Dark All Day, Gunship
Chapter Ten: Dark All Day
The garage door rumble shut behind them. Yami put the car in park, twisted the key, and removed it. The silence was deafening.
Yami opened the door and exited the car. Seto followed. He took his duffel bag from the trunk. They left the garage.
"I have something I would like to discuss with you," Yami said. It was hard to believe that his face had been caked with blood less than an hour and a half before. "Take care of your clothes and come to the study."
Seto nodded curtly. He was exhausted; it was close to sunrise, and the night had been emotionally draining and rather… traumatizing, but he didn't feel like arguing.
Seto peered into the study. Yami sat at his desk. He fingers rhythmically danced over the keys of his typewriter.
Ping!
Yami still wore Seto's clothing. The shirt was a little loose on him, and, since he had the collar button undone, it would slide a tad bit down to his shoulder. Defined collarbone, pale flesh.
A low warmth trickled through Seto's veins, and he gulped tensely. Jesus, why hadn't he taken it off when his own clothes were readily accessible!
"We hunt tomorrow. Together," Yami suddenly said. His deep voice resonated through the study.
"We… hunt…" Seto repeated slowly.
Yami's deep violet eyes cut up to him. "At least I will. If you do not yet feel comfortable with the notion of feeding from a human, you may wait. But you will be accompanying me." Yami typed more. Ping! "If we are to get you integrated back into your old life, into Mokuba's life, then you must eventually learn to hunt."
Seto imagined sinking his fangs into some damsel's neck, holding her close to bury his face in her neck. Then, he imagined Yami doing the same, though gentler than he had drained Weevil. Hands, slender, sensuous gliding. Gripping hair tenderly and tilting, lips brushing against skin and parting.
"Do… humans react to feeding the same way … we -" (you) "-do?"
Yami's long lashes fluttered down, curtained the deep violet of his irises. He set the typewriter to the side. "It is all dependant on the individual. The situation." He tilted his head. Violet snapped back up to meet blue. "Attraction lends to it. Vampires have an… allure. Sensuality. Sexuality."
"I've… noticed," Seto muttered.
Yami's lip quirked up. "It makes it much easier to hunt. When humans are naturally drawn to us, no matter how dangerous we may seem."
Seto's brow furrowed. "But… Pegasus. I've always found him repulsive. He makes my skin crawl."
Yami leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. He chuckled a little. "Perhaps. He is Strigoi, which I personally have always found repulsive." His hands laced together. His thumb brushed over his other knuckles. The movement was mildly hypnotic. "But, he also didn't seem to be purposely preying on you. For your blood, at least."
Seto nodded mutely.
"For instance, I doubt when I use my shadow powers that I could be considered seductive," Yami reasoned. He blinked thoughtfully and rubbed his chin absently with his thumb. "Though, tastes these days have become rather… eccentric."
Seto smirked. "No, I'm pretty sure human beings have always been pretty freaky."
Yami threw his head back and cackled, a laugh from deep within his belly that it shook his whole body. "Yes! I can attest to that! I suppose I should say that humans these days are exceptionally, wildly creative in relation to their predecessors."
Seto laughed. Yami's mirth was… wildly contagious. "So, in response to our earlier topic, it only happens when a vampire is trying to be 'seductive'?"
Yami leaned his jaw on his knuckles. His amaranthine eyes still glittered with laughter. "I guess you shall see tomorrow, will you not?"
Seto gulped.
What was that supposed to mean?
Blood sprayed everywhere. It drenched him, dark and hot and cold. The bitter tang filled his mouth and spilled past his teeth. He was drowning. He screamed, but it only gurgled.
Red eyes flashed, black talons swiped and tore. They gripped his shoulders, frigid. Steely. White fangs glistened in moonlight. Shadows melted away, red cooled to purple. Cold hands caressed his suddenly bare chest. Half-lidded violet irises.
"Se… to…"
He jerked awake, gasping. He was slicked with sweat. A hot sweat.
His dream versions of Yami were merging. The shadow beast. The sensual creature. The frightful monster. The patient guardian.
Seto groaned and rubbed his hand on his face. The torrid heat was unbearable. He kicked the blanket and sheet off irritably.
He couldn't deny it anymore, could he?
"Where are we even going?" Seto snapped when Yami shooed him back to his room to "change into something more appropriate."
"Dance Macabre," Yami replied.
"What?! I don't know what the hell that is."
"A night club. Wear something appropriate for a nightclub."
"A night club?! I've never even been to a nightclub before!"
Yami's brows furrowed, his lips pursed a bit. "Really?"
"Well, yeah! What would I gain from lying to you about it?! I've never had the time, the will, the desire, or the energy to go waste my time at some grungy hole in the wall!"
Yami arched an eyebrow. "'Dance Macabre' is not some 'grungy hole in the wall,' I assure you. It is a fairly clean place, despite the traffic it typically receives." Yami tilted his head. "It's my preferred hunting grounds."
Seto rolled his eyes. "Where you can prey on drunk young women."
Yami raised a single slender finger. "And men. I do not discriminate."
Seto slammed his door shut. "What do I even wear?" he mumbled to himself. What do people usually wear when they go to… nightclubs? He'd ask Yami, but there was no way he'd retract that rather sound door slam. A forest green v-neck and dark jeans that were on the… tighter side would have to do. He grabbed one of favorite jackets, a navy trench coat, to go with it.
He opened his door and glanced down the corridor. The dusty warmth of rock and incense led him to Yami's closed bedroom door. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the door. "Hey, I'm ready to go. Now we're waiting on you, old fart."
The door swung open, and Seto had to pick his jaw off the floor.
A tight leather vest, black as the night, clung to Yami's torso like a second skin. Every line of muscle on his chest was showcased in stunning detail. Leather pants hugged his legs, as if for dear life. A studded collar wrapped tight around his slender, defined throat. Matching bracelets decorated his wrists. The silver buckles winked dangerously in the light. He forced himself to look Yami in the eyes.
Which were lined with thick black kohl.
He looked like some exotic, alt-culture sex symbol.
Not that Seto would ever verbally express that to him.
"It's... that kind of club?" he managed to croak out. He staunchly willed away the sudden heat flowing through his veins.
Purple eyes glittered and blinked. "No. These clothes simply enhance my allure." He stroked a finger along a seam on the outside of his thigh. "I look very appealing in leather, apparently."
"I think it would be less revealing if you went without clothing," Seto muttered while he turned and walked away. Before he knew it, Yami was walking in step beside him. "I don't dance."
Yami snorted. "You do not seem like the type. It would be easier if you did, though."
Seto grunted.
The lights of Domino City pulsed like electric fireflies in the night.
"Modern cities hold so much alien beauty," Yami murmured. "As if the stars in the sky came down to possess husks of steel and concrete and haunt us with their austere glow."
Seto glanced at the driver. The city lights reflected feverishly in the glass of those violet eyes. "That's... poetic."
"I have had a long time to assemble these thoughts, Seto," Yami replied, smiled slightly.
Blue eyes traced down and lingered on Yami's tricep bunching beneath his pale skin as he turned the steering wheel. Seto momentarily clenched his jaw and quickly looked away.
"We have arrived," Yami announced.
Dance Macabre stood right on the corner. From the door, a long line unraveled. It stretched far beyond, to the next building over and then some.
"As if we can even get in," Seto muttered. "People will recognize me," he suddenly realized out loud. "I'm supposed to be missing."
Yami smirked at him. "First of all, who do you think I am? Second, your sudden absence has not been announced to the general public. Trust in Mokuba. He has the situation under control."
He parked the car and cut the ignition right by the sidewalk.
"Hey, I'm pretty damn sure that sign says 'No Parking,' old fart!" Seto barked as he shoved his door open.
"Always one to jump to conclusions," Yami said in mock consternation. He wagged his finger.
Seto growled. "Wag your finger at me again and I'll bite it off, you fucker."
"You are particularly violent tonight. Perhaps it was a bad idea to bring you out hunting. You might rid unsuspecting humans of their fingers."
Yami tossed the keys to a waiting man. His skin glowed under the lights of the city, contrasted starkly against the dark leather. Seto gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch a hole in the nearest wall.
"The usual spot, Master Muto?" the man asked with a polite smile.
"Indeed," Yami said, and the valet slid into the driver's seat.
"'Master' Muto?" Seto asked. His brow was cocked up high.
Yami rolled a shoulder. Seto watched his scapulae shift like wings under the leather of the vest. "I'm a partial owner of this establishment."
"Hn."
They walked to the entrance, past the long line, and Yami gave a short nod to the doorman. The burly beast of a… vampire (Seto realized with a start) lifted the rope for them.
"I hope you enjoy your time here, Master Muto," the doorman rumbled.
Seto stiffly followed the other man into the gaping maw of darkness. The outer walls must have been soundproof, because as soon as they crossed the threshold, the throb and wobble of music thickened the air. Seto furrowed his brows. It seemed extraordinarily loud, to the point where it should have been painful, but it wasn't.
"What the hell…" he muttered. Yami glanced over his shoulder. Seto knew that if he were human, he would not have been able to see him at all.
"What is it?"
"Why don't my ears hurt? The music is so damn loud."
"While our hearing is amplified from its mortal counterpart, our sensitivities to loudness, even pitch, have been diminished," Yami explained.
"Huh. I'd think that, if anything, the sensitivity would have increased," Seto said quietly, mostly to himself. It made him wonder what other things he still had yet to learn about his senses.
"It is ironic," Yami conceded. They quickly approached another door. Yami turned, his hand splayed out on the handle. A smirk bared his teeth. Fangs glinted in the dim, eyes flashed red. "I welcome you…" He pushed the door open."... to Dance Macabre."
A sea of bodies undulated under panning black lights. Thick fog, colored pastel by the lights, descended from the black, abyssal rafters above to blanket the revelers in a murky haze. The thick beat of music, heavy and grinding, rhythmically pounded the floor and the walls and the very bodies of all present.
Yami stalked, with all the confidence of an apex predator, deeper into the heaving hoard. Seto trailed after, stunned by the sheer density of people.
No wonder Yami hunted here. Seto doubted he'd see the same face twice in that many hours.
Yami slithered to the thick of it, amongst the forest of flesh and mortality. He descended into the rhythm, limbs stroking and swaying through the thick beat. His skin glowed, ghostly, alluring, under the embrace of the black lights. Seto stood in the thick of it, a yard or so away, but the gap seemed to grow, grow as the revelers flocked like moths to Yami's dark, seductive, otherworldly radiance. He undulated, a bewitching flame on a pale candle.
His sensuously upturned face flickered between the constantly shifting humans. Half-lidded eyes, black in the dim, pierced Seto's own gaze.
Dance, those lips mouthed.
Seto's head shook curtly.
He'd already thought dancing ridiculous, but seeing that… alluring display made him feel even more… inadequate. The thought had his teeth gritting and grinding angrily.
Damn you, Yami.
Seto whirled away and stalked up to the bar. Shelves upon shelves of alcohol stood stacked in ultraviolet backlighting. Red light splashed down onto the black bartop, contrasting itself against the blue- and purple-tinted dancefloor.
The bartender, a tall woman, with luscious blonde hair, smiled at him.
Fangs. A vampire.
"What can I get ya, hon?" she asked.
Seto's eyebrow twitched. He might have once actually ordered a drink, but now… he didn't dare a taste. "I'm just… getting away from that."
"I saw you come in with Yami," she mentioned, smirked lecherously. "Getting his bed warm?"
That sentence summoned lurid, unwanted images. He snarled. "No, not that it's any of your fucking business."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You reek of him. You've gotta at least be feeding from him. Frequently."
His face flushed, icy cold. He remembered what Yami said. That feeding from other vampires could be construed this way, particularly if the blood was taken from the neck. "So? That doesn't give you any right to open your mouth and blurt whatever you want."
She laughed. She seemed to be ignoring all other customers in favor of him, but the other bartenders easily picked up her slack. "Oh, honey, you don't have a clue in the world, do you?"
His gums ached sharply, and he realized his fangs were starting to descend in his anger. "What the hell are you yammering about, woman?"
She sighed at him, in some mocking form of maternal exasperation. "Yami hasn't given his blood in centuries, honey. Others of our kind have wet dreams about that kind of opportunity."
He cringed at her wording, and he forced the surprise off his face. He turned away from her, and, half-perched on a barstool, faced the dance floor. It didn't take long to find the man in question.
Woman, men, all swarmed thickly around him. The bar was slightly elevated, just enough to see Yami, pressed tight to a woman's back. His lips against her ear, eyes half-lidded. Hands at her hips. Her face, blissful, stirred as she said something. Seto could all but hear Yami's purring, seductive chuckle.
The back of Seto's throat burned.
The blonde bartender made him sound so chaste, so conservative.
But, out there, on the dance floor, was a lustful serpent.
Suddenly, those eyelashes lifted, violet seared into blue. A smirk seeped its way onto Yami's lips. Light flashed off of fangs like a strobe. Yami stared right at him as his tongue flicked out, dragged against the young woman's neck. She visibly shuddered in his arms. His lips moved again, mouthed over her skin, and she nodded enthusiastically.
Yami was leading her away by her wrist, into another hallway on the other end of the cavernous room.
Seto immediately stood and stepped down from the bar and its dias.
The bartender smirked after him.
As he navigated his way through the ever-moving crowd, the lights changed, suddenly red, dark, harder to see. The revelers roared their enthusiasm, and the riffs of a guitar rumbled over the speakers. A live band was now playing, but Seto hardly paid any mind.
What he did mind, though, were the hands and other body parts that occasionally brushed against him.
Yami was right. He just might end up biting some fingers off before the night was through.
After much tumultuous swimming through the sea of people, Seto finally made it to the mouth of the hallway. An overwhelming presence of foreboding almost staggered him back. He gulped down the sudden dryness in his mouth. He forced his feet to continue forward. He stepped farther into the dark of the hallway.
The scent of blood, hot and mortal, washed across his senses, and a feminine whimper tickled his sensitive ears. He saw Yami's wild mane, his head tilted, mouth pressed to the young woman's neck. Her shapely leg was hooked around his hip, her back to the wall. Seto's jaw clenched. Yami softly undulated against her, ground his clothed hips into her.
She moaned, and her nails dragged along Yami's leather-clad shoulders. Fangs disengaged from her neck, and he lapped at the wound, kissed up her throat to keep up the pretense of sensual necking, before he bit down on the puncture again. Her body lurched, arched, her hips fluttered. Her face, tilted toward Seto's wide gaze, was awash with ecstasy, and her lips parted wider, gasping, when Yami bit harder.
Is that how… Yami…
The memory of Yami's arching, writhing body burned his flesh. The thought of that sharp face with such a blissful expression set Seto's veins ablaze.
Yami suddenly gripped her pelvis, tugged her hard against him, and she tensed before immediately melting. Her hands loosened on his shoulders, dragged down sensually.
Seto's face was hot. Did she just…?
Yami drew away from her, though her arms stayed linked around his neck. He glanced at Seto. His eyes were flickering crimson and smirking, like the cat that caught the mouse.
"Mmmm…" she hummed sensually. "That was amazing." She had the modesty to blush deeply. "I've never… not from just…"
Seto stared at her neck. The bite was hidden amongst a cluster of dark hickeys. Clever.
She seemed languid, both from her completion and the loss of blood, if a little punch-drunk, as she giggled. Her hands slid down to fondle the seat of Yami's pants. He snatched her wrists and held them away from himself.
He grinned, charming, even as his tongue swiped the last of the blood from his teeth. "I do believe you have had too much to drink, my dear."
She giggled again. "Mmmm… no."
"Mmmm… yes," Yami purred back. He gently led her by her wrist. "Let's find your companions."
When she spotted Seto, her face flushed even more deeply. "Who… who…?"
Those red eyes faded to purple, but they still felt so intense as they met blue. "My own companion."
"He's handsome, too," she slurred. "Are all the people you know beautiful?"
"We are all beautiful, yours and mine, even the wretched," he replied.
Seto drifted after the pair. Yami, ever patient, calmly replied to the young woman's incessant babbling.
"Will I ever see you again?" she asked.
"Only in your dreams." He stopped and nudged her to the bar. "Go, my dear. Your companions are waiting for you."
She giggled over her shoulder and staggered away.
Yami stood and watched, made sure she safely reached her friends.
"What a fucking weirdo," Seto mumbled.
Yami chuckled. "She was already under the influence of alcohol and marijuana. The blood loss made quite the concoction."
"Not to mention the orgasm…" Seto growled. "Was that necessary, by the way?"
Yami's face turned to him. The elegant, pale planes of his cheeks were stained red by the lights. "No. It wasn't exactly intentional, either." He crossed his arms. "But, if they are going to have their life fluids forcibly drained from them, I suppose they have every right to take pleasure in it."
"Hn."
Yami turned back to the dance floor. "Another…" he murmured.
Seto stared, incredulous. "Another?"
Yami cocked an eyebrow. "I've been feeding for two, Seto. Yes, another. Since you don't seem too keen on hunting for yourself, you can sup from whoever I manage to-"
"Whoever you manage to seduce," Seto grumbled, teeth gritting hard.
Yami leveled him with a stern look. "When you can hunt on your own, you may find your own way to do it." Even his lips seemed tight as he spoke. "This is the method I find to be the most humane. The sensual memories, if they remember anything, are far better than lasting nightmares of almost having their throats ripped out. This way, I can ensure that in their weakened states they are not preyed upon by far worse predators than I."
Seto growled, face flushed at the reprimand. He stayed silent.
The young woman hung on Yami's shoulders sensually. He had led her up to the bar, by Seto, and while she showed interest in him, she seemed far more intrigued by Yami.
It probably didn't help that Yami looked like Eros incarnate.
The ancient vampire simpered down at her. He placed gentle, innocuous touches upon her, all of which seemed to enthrall her further, like the whispered words of an incantation. She giggled at something he said, in that proper, imperious way of his, and Seto resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Thank god that annoying bartender wasn't there to bother them.
"I'm sure your companions are wondering to where you have disappeared," Yami murmured, hand sliding on the small of her back.
The woman shook her head. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulder at the motion. "No, I came here alone."
Yami made a noise low in his throat. "How daring." He leaned close, a dark grin on his face, and his nose brushed hers. "Even though there are wolves in the shadows, waiting to snatch up tender morsels such as yourself?"
Her hands splayed out on his chest. Her pale fingers contrasted starkly against the black leather. "Wolves like you?"
His chuckle purred on the air. The hairs on the back of Seto's neck stood up. "Precisely."
Yami's head tilted to the side, and he languidly kissed her neck. Violet eyes met blue over her shoulder. They sparkled with a smirk. Fangs glinted as their curved faces dragged gently over fragile mortal flesh. She arched, gasped in his arms. His slender lips mouthed her flesh, flashes of tongue swiping her skin.
She moaned, and Seto tore his gaze away. He glared out over the sea of undulating bodies.
He heard Yami murmur, low, "Would you mind a… relocation?" Seto whipped his head back over.
The woman was pliant, melted in Yami's arms, her cheek resting on his shoulder. "Where to?"
His hands continued sliding and caressing her back and sides, weaved his spell of seduction. He kissed her exposed shoulder again. "There is a hotel not too far from here."
Seto stared hard. What the hell was Yami doing?
"Mmm, I'm definitely up for that," she purred, nails dragging down Yami's leather vest.
He smirked, sharp, hungry.
Seto shivered. That was the grin of a bloodthirsty predator.
Before long, Yami was leading them out of the club. The young woman was wrapped tightly around Yami's arm, and she shivered melodramatically in the relative chill of the night.
Seto glared at her.
The valet spotted them and quickly left to retrieve the vehicle.
Seto met Yami's gaze and his molars ground together harshly. "Can I speak with you privately?"
They left the woman by the curb, and stood a few yards away. Yami kept an eye on his prey.
"What the hell are you doing?" Seto hissed.
"Hunting," Yami replied.
Seto feared he would crack a tooth at this rate. "Of course you're going to be fucking difficult about this." He glared down at the other vampire's sanguine face. "Is it really necessary to bring her to a goddamn hotel?"
Yami cocked a brow. "Would you feed on her in public? In that hallway?"
Seto snarled, automatic, "No."
"Then I haven't much choice, do I?" Yami replied. "You are the one being difficult, Seto Kaiba. You will have to learn to feed from mortals, especially if you ever want to return to your life with Mokuba."
Seto turned away and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Fucking hell. Yami was right. About all of it.
Anger still curled in his chest. Why was he having such a hard time about this? It's not feeding itself. He fed from Yami without fuss.
He took a deep breath to try and abate the frustration. "Okay."
Yami locked eyes with the woman. She waved shyly. He tipped his head in return. "Also, she came alone. I am not comfortable feeding from her here and leaving her vulnerable to the jackals that pick off the scraps."
Seto rolled his eyes. He wanted to make a comment about Yami's habit of picking up the strays.
But… that just so happened to include Seto…
"Why feed from her at all?" Seto countered.
Yami smirked up at his fledgling. "She's easy, eager prey."
Seto scoffed. "Jesus Christ."
Yami's head tilted. "Not quite. I'm a bit older than he."
Seto gritted his teeth. Hot lips mouthed at his neck. The woman, drunk on alcohol and whatever the fuck Yami did to her, was suddenly very interested in him.
He glared at the front seat, where Yami was passive and driving as serene as ever.
A slender hand snuck under the hem of his shirt.
"Oh, you're so cold," she murmured, hot breath brushing over the ear she kept trying to gnaw on. "Let me warm you up…"
Her wrist felt so delicate under his hand, and he drew her away from him. He smiled stiffly, though he could tell by the twinge of his facial muscles that it was more of a snarl. She giggled, obviously took it as a challenge, and continued trying to lay her hands on his person.
The sweet scent of her perfume mixed strangely with the musk of her light sweat, but under it all he could smell the crimson rush of hot blood in her throbbing veins. His fangs ached numbly. It had been more than forty hours since he last fed, and it was starting to take its toll, especially with a mortal so near and warm and eager.
A breathy sigh echoed in his ears. His lips were on her neck, and they mouthed hungrily over the arteries hidden beneath her delicate flesh. When he tasted the barest, miniscule flavor of blood, he realized with a start that he was tasting Yami's saliva on her.
A spike of heat cut through him, but it dissipated when Yami took a bit of a sharper turn. Seto was pressed back against the corner of the door and the seat, the human woman sprawled on top of him. She giggled, and her tongue curled out to flick at his jaw.
The proximity was obviously exciting her; her heart throbbed ever louder in her chest. A purr rumbled in his chest, and he nuzzled her throat, his long fingers splaying over the back and sides of her slender neck.
Violet eyes glanced in the rearview mirror.
Her hands rubbed sensually at his chest, and, with a growl, he gracefully spun them. He pinned her wrists above her head, against the door, and hunkered down to draw his longer-than-normal tongue along the tendons on her neck.
He could feel her pulse under his tongue.
"Seto, wait," Yami commanded. The tone was stern, and it brooked no protest.
Seto snorted indignantly, but obeyed, drew away to sit back against the seats.
The woman panted, flushed. "It's okay. There's enough of me to go around, boys."
Yami chuckled. "You would be surprised, my dear."
She chuckled, sultry, and sat up to lean between the front seats. "Surprised by what?"
"How demanding my companion can be," Yami purred seductively back, husky. "He'll devour you whole if you give him the chance." He met Seto's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Trust me, I've had first-hand experience." He winked, then violet irises were trained on traffic.
Seto's face flushed. Jesus Christ, did Yami have to make it sound like they did… that?!
The woman moaned. "That's hot." She gave Seto a flirtatious side-eye. "Will I get to see any of this?"
Seto's jaw ticked and he quickly looked out the window.
Yami's chuckle rippled through the reawakened tension in the atmosphere. "We shall see."
Thankfully, they pulled into the parking lot of a hotel. It was towering, grand, lined all the way up with ornate balconies that soared high into the starry sky. Another valet accepted Yami's keys, and the trio entered the building, the woman clinging to Seto's arm. Warm, yet opulent architecture decorated and structured the inside.
The receptionist smirked knowingly at Yami. "The usual?" She seemed a little surprised by Seto's presence, but then her grin took a turn for the even more perverse.
"Yes," Yami replied, and the receptionist immediately handed a key card over.
"You know what room it is."
"Indeed, I do."
The trio made it to a lavish elevator. The woman all but glued herself to Seto's front. She was too short to effectively kiss his jaw and neck, so she settled for the patch of collarbone bared by Seto's disheveled v-neck.
"I'm so excited," she breathed, "I've never had a threesome before."
If it weren't for the hot crimson scent wafting up to his sensitive nostrils, Seto would have shoved her away. Instead, he stooped a bit to nuzzle her throat and drag his teeth along her flesh. She shuddered and gasped and clung, a live wire, in his arms.
The door dinged, and Yami nudged them forward. The woman latched onto Yami's arm for the time being as they walked down a grandiose hallway. Yami stopped at a door and deftly swiped the card key through the reader.
As soon as they were in the room, before the door even close fully, the young woman was peeling her tight shirt off. She backed up into Seto's chest, and his arm reflexively went around her waist at the jostle.
Hot, bare, flushing mortal flesh. Seto's fangs ached.
Yami stalked up to her front. His violet eyes gleamed darkly, and they burned crimson at the centers. Her hand eagerly slid over his shoulders, her arms around his neck. His own hand caressed up her neck, kneading with sensual danger over her jugular, before tangling in her long ebony hair.
Seto watched the muscles in Yami's arm tense. He yanked her head back by a fistful of dark locks.
She gasped, moaned, arched against that leather-clad body and Seto's arm. Seto could hear her nails dragging along Yami's vest. He watched as Yami's lips, now seeming so red in contrast to his pale skin, roved hungrily up her proffered, prone neck, under her jaw and chin, and finally onto her lips. One chaste kiss, and her body went completely slack. Her weight was being held up only by Yami's hand in her hair and the arm Seto still had banded around her waist.
Crimson eyes flashed up to Seto, and Yami drew away.
"What did you do to her?" Seto asked, and he shifted his hold to pick the woman up damsel-style. One of her arms dangled limply.
"I sedated her," Yami replied. With a languid wrist, he gestured to the large bed in the room. "Lay her down."
Seto gingerly did so, laid her down on the white comforter. She sank down comically in the fluffy blankets. He hovered over her, one knee on the bed. With a long finger, he pushed her sable tresses away from the flesh of her throat.
He could see the veins throb in time with her heart.
"Why did you sedate her?" Seto spoke around the fangs elongating from his gums. She seemed more than willing to be… nibbled on.
Yami's firm hand settled on his shoulder. The bed dipped with Yami's weight when he climbed on to kneel next to his fledgling. "So she would not hear me coaxing you to partake of her blood."
Seto stared down at her. Perhaps before he would have needed more coaxing, but now… he was all riled up. He hunkered down lower, one arm sneaking under her to lift her up. He paused, looked up at Yami. "Like how I feed from you?"
Yami's hand petted his hair comfortingly. "Perhaps a little gentler. She's more delicate than I."
Seto blinked and looked back to his prey. He could feel it, even as he held her, that Yami's statement rang true. Fragile human bones, the tenuous structure of tendons and muscle.
Not the firm strength of Yami's immortal body.
Suddenly nervous again, Seto gulped. Yami's and trailed from the rich brown hair to Seto's spine.
"Go ahead, Seto," Yami was leaning down close, his lips nearly touching Seto's ear. "Feed."
Seto adjusted his hold on the woman. She was sprawled limply in his arms, her head tilted back and hair pooling across the bed. He nuzzled her throat, lapped, and with utmost caution, his fangs slipped into her flesh. Hot blood flooded his mouth in a wet burst.
Even sedated, she arched and gasped.
He'd partook of Yami's hot, aroused blood, but this was far different. He felt her pulse tickling the nerves in his fangs, and it caused him to tighten his jaws the slightest. He swallowed and sucked, and she moaned weakly. Her warmth percolated through him. It made his every muscle and tendon tremble, harp strings plucked by firm nails. His hand clenched in her hair. He felt in explicit detail the glossy slide of the strands between his fingers, the lapping of blood against his cheeks and teeth between each swallow, the rhythmic press of her a chest against his with every breath.
The fluttering of her pulse steadily weakened, and when Yami's hand gripped his shoulder, he disengaged, whipped himself to the side. He landed on his back on the mattress. Each breath heaved from his lungs, and his spine tightened and arched in near-pain. His sight pulsed and wavered with intensity and color, and warmth flooded his veins in tempo with the visual distortions.
Yami's purring chuckle was somehow both harmonious and cacophonous, and seemed so close though Yami was a little more than a yard away. "Her blood is good, is it?"
Seto touched his forehead, squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the euphoric vertigo.
The woman whimpered a little, and Seto peeked an eye open. Yami was gently cradling the woman in his arms. His pink tongue traced up the little rivulets of blood trailing down her neck. He cleaned her wounds with methodic grace.
"It's…" Seto began, but his voice was thick and hoarse, so he cleared his throat. "It's nothing like feeding from you."
Saliva glistened on Yami's lips after he licked them slowly. "She is mortal. Also, you are accustomed to feeding from me. Other vampires would be incapacitated for several hours after consuming my blood."
Seto looked at the ceiling. His breath was starting to slow. "Jesus. Makes your blood sound like a powerful narcotic."
Yami stood, scrounged around in a couple of the drawers. "I suppose it is."
Seto rolled onto his side. He settled his chin on his palm. "I suppose that makes me powerful, if I can withstand it."
Purple irises glinted as they stared at Seto over a leather-clad shoulder. "Potentially."
Seto watched Yami pull out a pad of paper and a pen. With a blink, he realized that it would be his first time seeing Yami actually write. After all, Yami couldn't just carry his typewriter with him everywhere. Though Seto was sure he would if he could.
Seto unsteadily stood. His knees felt like jelly. With Yami's short stature, Seto could easily look over his shoulder.
Scrawling, elegant flourishes, easily legible.
'Worry not about the room; it's covered. Feel free to partake in the wet bar and continental breakfast. My companion and I certainly enjoyed our night with you. Pardon the hickeys.
- Y & S"
A snort. "Way to let her off easy. Won't she remember not getting laid last night?"
Yami cocked an eyebrow. "She won't remember most of last night, so it will not truly matter."
"And we will just leave her here."
"Yes. She is safer here than in her own home."
Yami carefully removed the woman's high heels and shorts before he tucked her into the bed.
"How long will it take her to recover?" Seto asked quietly. Back when he was… human, he would donate blood whenever possible. Recommended three moth recovery time. Not that Seto let that stop him.
"A week, give or take a couple days. Our saliva contains erythropoietin which-"
"Stimulates red blood cell production."
"Yes."
"Hn. How circular."
"Quite."
The quiet conversation continued as they left the room and walked down the hall.
A sharp smile, hard eyes.
"You've failed thrice too many times. First, the PaniK incident. You heedlessly alerted the Pharaoh to our plans. Second, you allowed Seto Kaiba to slip from our clutches. And now, Weevil and the others' demise," the white-haired man counted off on slender fingers.
Pegasus sputtered, aghast. "You cannot possibly blame me for their insubordination-"
"Well, Dartz does. And so do I. You weak leadership is the root of many of our problems," the man hissed back. "We were hoping you would at least be competent; you have something we need. Now it certainly seems simpler to take it by force."
"As if I would let you-" Pegasus began, but the vertigo slammed into him. The world tilted onto its side, and he watched through messy silver hair as he wilted into his chair.
Shadows lapped and crawled. Pegasus shivered. Maniacal laughter.
"As if you have to let me do anything, Pegasus." The man crouched a bit to meet the Strigoi's drooping gaze. "You're not the only one with a powerful artifact. Though I suppose you won't be having it much longer."
Pegasus couldn't even scream when his Eye was ripped out.
END PART
"What a hell of a day
To embrace disorder,
And there is something in your eyes that burns…"
- Dark All Day, Gunship
Sorry this took so long to write. Probably because it is stupidly long (at least in comparison to previous chapters). There just wasn't a good place to split it in half.
The plot thickens! Seto is finally becoming more independent! Yami being his sexy vampire lord self! And was that Mai that snuck herself in there…? Yes, actually.
See ya next time!