Title: The Hickey
Rated: PG-13 for suggestive language
Warnings: Slash. Honda/Otogi

Notes: Written as birthday!smut for lemon-meringue (lastofthesane) Happy birthday, girlie! I guess this doesn't really qualify as smut though. Oh well, if at first you don't succeed… -smirk-

Disclaimer: I don't own Honda or Otogi, or Yu-Gi-Oh!, which is probably a very good thing.

"A hickey!"

"Brilliant, Hiroto," Otogi didn't look up from the computer in his office when his boyfriend stormed in, his tone unimpressed, "did you figure that out all by yourself?"

But he was smirking – Honda saw it via the full-length mirror on the wall beside the desk. The generous lips were twisted up on the handsome, devilish face into the older teenage boy's usual brand of self-satisfaction. Only a few months ago, that expression alone might have goaded Honda into something rash. And violent, most likely – shoving Otogi into a wall, for instance, or whiffing a backhand at him, which the other boy would have skillfully ducked, only to come back with another teasing remark.

But that was months ago. Months and an entire summer ago. Now, the urge to shove Otogi into a wall generally went hand in hand with another set of plans, which proved to be very confusing when indecision teetered between rage and – you guessed it – lust. And it irritated the hell out of him when he found that he could want Otogi and still want to shake him at the same time.

Was it possible to want both? Oh yes. At the same time, he'd discovered.

"You gave me a hickey," Honda repeated, stalking over to the front of Otogi's desk, both hands thumping heavily onto the surface. Paperclips danced in the chrome dish beside his wrist, and he felt the reverberation in his arms and shoulders. "that was seriously not fair. You coulda warned me!"

"What good would that have done?" Otogi replied, still not looking up. Characters flashed across the wet reflection of the monitor in his eyes. "It would still have been there, regardless of whether I told you or not. Anyway." He finished off a final keystroke with a flourish, and at last the large, slanted green eyes turned towards Honda, "I like it there. I would have given you one eventually."

"My parents could have—"

"Did they?" Otogi interrupted, suddenly no longer amused, but concerned. Honda lowered his eyes, and answered in a tone that was less belligerent than a moment before.

"No, they didn't. Or they didn't say anything at breakfast, if they did."

"Well…so that's good, anyway." the older boy sat back, sighing, and tilted his head, reaching up to finger the lobe of his ear. "Why'd you say that if they didn't see it? You had me worried for no reason!"

"Why'd you give me a hickey and not tell me you did it?"

"Oh, honestly, Hiroto, what else would I be doing if I was sucking on your neck that hard?" Otogi's smirk reappeared, as irritating as ever. "Are you really that much of a virgin, little Lamb?"

"No," Honda retorted, and then recoiled at Otogi's arched eyebrow, "I mean, well," He fumbled, blushed, and set his jaw, "just because I've never done that doesn't mean I've never kissed anybody before. I know what a hickey is."

"Bravo."

"Oh, shut up."

"You're cute when you're this flustered."

"I'm even cuter when I'm pissed off," Honda replied, flatly.

"One usually follows the other, I've noticed," Otogi teased, tilting the black leather office chair backwards a little, folding his hands primly across his lap. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me that it bothers you this much. It'll go away in a few days."

"There were girls giggling at me at school!"

"Big words from the man who said he didn't care what anyone else thinks," Otogi's voice dripped irony as ponytail dripped over his shoulder when he nodded sideways at the mirror. "look, it doesn't even show unless you lean over. Fasten your collar, if it really bothers you."

The response was slow. Honda looked at Otogi's reflection in the mirror, instead of his own. Via the polished glass, their eyes met, caught and held. "It doesn't bother me," he replied at last.

"No?"

Honda shook his head, slowly. "But it's not fair."

"I thought you said it didn't bother you."

"It doesn't," the brunette insisted firmly, and circled the desk. Otogi watched him, green eyes locked on brown with the same tense fascination of a deer staring down the gaze of a wolf. Otogi Ryuuji was seventeen, cocky, and worldly. He was used to being the aggressor; the seducer. Even with Honda, he usually had the upper hand, which the younger boy didn't seem to mind. Much. But then there were times like these, when he recognized the one facet of Honda's personality that always lay beneath the surface, manifesting only occasionally. Intensity. Kaiba was self-possessed and confident; Jounouchi guileless, open, and honest.

Honda was intense. His predictability would have been colorless and boring, otherwise. When he had permission to go after something, he went after it, full-bore, with the focus of a predator. Of course, considering how nervous their first encounters had been, Otogi expected him to hold back, and Honda had – and he was grateful for it.

But he wasn't holding back now.

Now, Otogi found himself yanked to his feet, turned and pushed against the edge of the desk. His ass connected with the keyboard, and a string of b's marched across the processor screen. They moved away soon enough, and he'd fix it later.

B for badass.

The hands on his body weren't hard, only insistent, and when the younger boy bent his knees to life Otogi onto the desk, he complied with a little hop, expecting any minute to be kissed breathless. Hell, demanding it, curling his arms around the other's neck.

Honda's hands were at his throat, pulling open the buttons of his shirt. One came loose a little slow, and he yerked. The button popped free. "Mmf…easy…"

"Sorry," came the low reply, and Otogi suppressed a chuckle despite the situation. Only Honda would throw someone down across their desk, and then apologize for breaking a thread or two. It was amusing, but he realized that it might mean his boyfriend's resolve was flagging. Bad idea. Bad bad idea.

"So…you going to do anything?" He demanded, arching an eyebrow, drawing in a quick breath as the other's eyes flashed dangerously. Without answering, Honda fastened his lips onto the ridge of his collarbone, and sucked. Oh, dear gods, yes, he was going to do something, and he was good at doing that when he was angry. Or…well…whatever he was. Otogi's arousal spiked, and he nipped at his boyfriend's ear.

The next few minutes passed in a blur, the only sounds between them harsh, rasping breaths in an otherwise silent room, and the soft, wet pop of lips leaving skin in search of another sensitive spot. Once Honda had Otogi where he wanted him, his hands were no longer insistent, but coaxing. Powerful, callused palms cupped under his back when he arched; caught his legs at the knees and guided them around his waist when at last Otogi had unwrapped his ponytail and was laid out at length on the blotter of his desk. A pencil cup and that chrome dish of paperclips found a new home scattered on the floor, swept there by the ever-thoughtful Honda before he hit his head.

The other boy's hands inside his shirt kept Otogi so preoccupied that at first, he didn't register how hard his boyfriend was sucking on his neck. It wasn't until Honda moved away from the spot and was trailing kisses down the naked center of his chest, and the skin felt cold and a little abraded where he'd just been, that he realized what had happened.

"You gave me a hickey," he gasped, then squeezed his eyes tightly shut, brow furrowing as the other's mouth grazed a nipple. It was reflexive. He couldn't help saying it, anymore than he could help arching sharply up against the gentle suction that started afterward.

"Brilliant," Honda muttered around the already taut pad of skin, smirking, "you come up with that all by yourself?"