NEWTON'S THIRD by Kiraya

With a blast of cold air Kaiba Seto entered his home, stomping the snow off his boots. Shivering, Yami shut the door behind them. The master of the house proceeded down a hall to a large parlour. It was sparsely furnished, containing only two or three armchairs, a black lacquered coffee table, and a leather-upholstered couch facing a cavernous fireplace. He carelessly threw his coat on one of the chairs and turned to his companion. "Well…" he said awkwardly.

His stomach rumbled loudly, much to his embarrassment.

"I think lunch would be a good idea, before we talk," Yami decided, sounding as relieved as his companion felt.

He's as nervous about this discussion as I am, Seto observed, nodding gratefully.

"I'll take care of it," Yami said. "You treated me to breakfast, so I feel I should return the favour."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs?"

"I don't really care if you stand on your head and count backwards in Swahili — just as long as you don't go anywhere." He sighed. "We can't run from this forever," he murmured half to himself, leaving the room.

As the sounds of the pharaoh's footsteps faded away, Seto let out an explosive breath. He paced around the room, his thoughts drifting in dangerous territory…

…! Shaking his head, he opened a window, scooped a double handful of snow from outside, and thoroughly scrubbed his face with it. It helped him regain his composure, even though it made the room's temperature seem to drop by about twenty degrees.

He gazed thoughtfully at the wall opposite the couch.

When Yami returned, bearing food and hot tea, a fire was burning cheerfully on the hearth. He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, handing a bowl to his companion and taking a seat with him on the couch.

It was a simple meal, white rice with vegetables, but quite good, the delicate seasonings pleasing to the palate. "Excellent, as usual," Seto declared when he had finished, leaning back with a sigh.

The King of Games paused in the sipping of his tea and smiled slightly. He placed his cup on the table and looked at the young billionaire seriously. "So."

"So…"

They stared at each other in awkward silence, each half hoping that the other would say something first.

Finally, Yami took the plunge, his words almost stumbling over each other as he spoke.

"I'm going to be honest with you. For a long time, even before… before Mokuba died, I…"

Kaiba Seto knew already what the pharaoh was going to say — he had seen it in the other's eyes even before that night a week ago when it had been more obvious than ever, despite being superseded by desire.

"…frank, and I'm sorry if it sounds corny: In all my years I have never felt for anyone what I feel for you. I think about you all the time. I miss you desperately when…"

Nevertheless, he mused, his mind wandering pleasantly, hearing Yami verbally confirm the fact that he loves me— his heart gave a funny little lurch —is. mmm. Pleasant…

"…would understand, but I need to know now. Before I go crazy, wondering."

He blinked, startled out of his reverie. His friend had finished speaking, he realised. He opened his mouth — and discovered himself at a loss for words. I… I don't know what to say, where to begin, even, he thought disbelievingly, almost on the verge of panic. What am I going to do?

The King of Games was looking at him rather nervously.

I may not be able to tell him, Seto mused, but perhaps I can show him… He leaned forward slightly and pressed his lips to Yami's — not with fierce, unreasoning passion, as he had before, but gently, chastely, with unsullied love.

The former pharaoh pulled back and stared at his companion disbelievingly. I… oh, sweet Hathor, I don't deserve him…

Kaiba Seto smiled, blushing faintly. And then he did it again.

It seemed Yami had overcome his initial shock, for this time he readily responded.

Encouraged by this, the brown-haired youth's kisses became more and more ardent. He gently but firmly pushed the unresisting King of Games down onto his back without ceasing in his tender ministrations. The shorter youth's hands strayed to the buttons of Seto's shirt, and he had half of them undone already when the young billionaire drew back slightly, breathing heavily as he looked at his love.

"I want you," Yami murmured hoarsely, running a finger down Seto's bare chest. He gazed up at his companion, the look in his eyes making the other's heart miss a beat. "Please."

Seto proceeded to apply his lips to the sensitive skin of Yami's neck in a manner that left the pharaoh gasping. He kissed his way to a delicate ear and huskily whispered a single word, the heat of his breath giving the other chills.

"Yes."

There was no need for speech after that.

The frenzied lust of their previous encounter was gone. In its place was a gentle tenderness that made it feel like the first time always should, that allowed them to take things slower and focus more on pleasing each other than on satisfying themselves.

It was an incredible experience.

Sated, they lay exhausted in each other's arms, content simply to bask in the afterglow. And then the taller youth stirred, kissing his lover gently.

"Ai shiteiru, my only."

Yami smiled blissfully and nestled closer. "Ai shiteiru… Kaiba Seto."

9 January 2003.

To be continued.

To lemon or not to lemon? That was the big question with this chapter — and to be quite honest, I was leaning in that direction. But nothing I wrote came at all close to conveying the sublime expression of love (winces that sounds so corny) I wanted this to be, so I scrapped it. You want one, you'll have to wait for a few chapters — the epilogue is looking good…