Please Read and Review… mainly because I'd love to know what people think.

VOCABULARY NOTE: I could not resist using the word 'anodyne' (Isn't that a beautiful sounding word?) Anyway, it's a really obscure word that means: a charm or medicine that allays pain.'

DOOM REMINDER: At the end of the DOMA arc, Kaiba and Yami are fighting together against Dartz (the main bad guy). Kaiba sacrifices his life points to Yami and falls into Yami's arms, unconscious– since this is a kind of Shadow Game, he believes he's giving up his life, unless Yami can win the duel. He tells Yami he's glad to finally repay his debt, and dies in his arms. (Cool, huh?) Anyway, it obviously comes up more than once in this story, but I refer to it here.

CHAPTER 18: FIRST KNIGHT

YAMI'S POV

"Why are you here?" Kaiba asked when he finally came upstairs.

Considering we had been meeting in his room nearly every night, it was an odd question. He was slightly paler than usual, his breathing shallow. This probably wasn't the right time. Then again, given Kaiba's famed imperviousness, perhaps it was the perfect time.

It was his strength that drew me: his pride, his fierceness, even his obstinacy. But it was his sudden vulnerability that made my next move possible. I stepped forward; closed the distance between us. As before, I took his face in my hands. As before, he leaned into my touch. I kissed his surprisingly soft lips, slowly, gently, in invitation. Then I took a half-step back, and looked up. The distance between us was slight, but he would have to cross it himself. I had made my offer. The decision was his.

"Are you daring to offer me pity?" he snarled.

I sighed. Only Kaiba could misconstrue a kiss.

"No," I answered. Do you need me to find Shadi's Key, so you can see for yourself?"

He realized I was serious. The enormity of my offer froze him.

"No," he answered.

"You know why I'm here, then. The rest is up to you."

KAIBA'S POV

I stared at him, let the silence between us grow. For all the times I've roared, and cursed, and ranted… I am most comfortable in silence. I didn't need Shadi's Key. Despite my track record, my instincts were generally on target. I had known what Gozaburo was – and what he would do. Hell, I had counted on it when I made myself his pawn… and Mokuba's Knight. I had not misjudged his capacity for evil, only my ability to withstand its influence.

My instincts were solid. But I had never had the luxury of listening to them before.

I looked into Yami's eyes. He had been honest, as always. There was no pity there. Nor love, thankfully. Mokuba had just declared that he loved me… had insisted that I loved him. But I had discarded the ability to love as surely as I had destroyed that fourth dragon… and I didn't to expect to get either one back. I no longer knew what love was – or wanted to. Mokuba's love was burden enough. I didn't want Yami's.

I stared into that crimson gaze, trying to decipher its meaning. There was desire, certainly. Perhaps comradeship, an acknowledgement of all that we had shared, and an offer to share pleasure as well. Those were things I could accept. It was a deal, I suddenly realized, that I could not afford to let pass me by. If I refused, Yami would abide by my decision… but he would never kiss me again. The only question left was: Did I want him?

If I had had to answer him with words, I couldn't have done it. But thankfully, Yami wasn't asking for words.

YAMI'S POV

I was not surprised at the suddenness of his response – or its ferocity. After all, one did not come to Seto Kaiba for gentleness. One hand grabbed my hair, was twined in it; holding me in place. He devoured my mouth, bruising my lips, barely letting me breathe. His other hand was pressing me to him, so I could feel his arousal, even through two pairs of leather pants. And I realized… despite his coolness, despite his icy demeanor, which had fooled even me, he had wanted this for a long time… had wanted it as desperately as I.

He half wrestled me to the bed, landing on top. For the first time since I had met him, he was using his greater size and strength to hold me in place – kissing me, almost angrily, the whole time. At first he seemed almost incapable of understanding that this was not a trick or a trap – that I was not offering him an illusion only to snatch it away at the last minute.

Gradually, the awareness that I was not fighting; that I wanted him… seemed to penetrate his brain. He became less angry, though no less intense. And the fervency of his touch reassured me that I was solid, that this was real.

His mouth left mine, trailed slowly down my body; teasing; tasting... as though he was taking an inventory of every inch of skin. As though he was certain I would disappear with the dawn, and he wanted to burn the feel and taste of me into his mind. Yesterday, I would have sworn that all I wanted was what I had right now; that all I wanted was to be in Kaiba's arms this once. Tonight, I knew I had lied to myself. I was standing on the surface of my desires, waiting to fall.

Kaiba was wrong to think my feelings as transitory as the cool night breeze, but that was one battle I would not win… today. So I let go of Kaiba's misconceptions, let go of everything but the sensations his hands and tongue and body were arousing in mine. Besides, I understood.

I had dreamed of this moment for so long, it was hard to believe it was happening… as if his image would vanish as I came. But no dream could match the feel of his hands flowing over my body, lightly, as though there was some message in my skin that only he could decode. No dream could match the feel of his lips drifting across my toes, brushing the arch on my foot, the tendons above its heel; the feel of his tongue teasing the inside of my knees, tickling as it moved up my thighs. The feel of his mouth finally taking me deep, fast and hard, until I was arching into him, offering the proof of just how badly I wanted him.

And no dream could match the feel of the muscles of his abdomen jumping under my lips; the sound of his moans as my tongue flickered in and out of his navel; the feel of him thrashing as I teased him, as I left marks on his inner thighs, as I took him in my mouth in turn. For if he had inventoried my body before, I was studying him just as intently, now… was learning which movements had him gasping, which had him clutching me convulsively and which had him arching back as if the sensations were too intense for him hold.

He was on top again, as I knew he would be. I wanted to possess and be possessed by him; take him and be taken. But I knew Kaiba. He'd never accept the former, until he had proven the latter.

I was writhing beneath him. We were sweaty, gasping for breath, throbbing… needing nothing so much as completion. He looked at me, as though for some final reassurance that this wasn't an illusion or a trick… wasn't a final trap card. I reached up once again to cup his face in my hands. "I want you," I whispered.

Kaiba made love (for that is what he was doing, admit it or not) the way he dueled: passionately, fiercely… conceding nothing… focused solely on me… as if I comprised the boundaries of his world. I had never felt my body so acutely, never so truly realized that it was mine, as now, in giving it to Kaiba.

He was like an oil fire on the ocean: an improbable melding of the water's rhythm with the flame's hypnotic power… unstoppable… unquenchable… searching and searing at the same time… as I rose to meet him.

And I made love to Kaiba the way that I dueled: with all my heart and soul… taking him in, surrounding him, claiming him as he claimed me… as if nothing mattered but him, as if nothing existed but this moment out of time. This moment when coalescence was within my grasp.

I had always wondered which one of us would fall asleep first. I was pleased to see that it was him, although I could imagine him protesting that being on top took more energy. And I knew what an early riser he was. It was likely that by morning we'd be tied. But it was more than feeling like I'd scored some obscure point… I was glad of the chance to study my prize in solitude.

Awake, Kaiba seemed to possess every one of my 3,000 years; seemed to carry their weight on his erect shoulders. Asleep, he looked like the teenager he was. Asleep, it was easy to feel a tenderness towards him; a doting affection I did not show by day.

The last time he had been in my arms, we had been fighting Dartz; he had been dying. He had been content in knowing that he had finally redeemed his debts; possibly content to be in my arms.

He had fallen into them so simply, as if time was too precious to waste in unnecessary movement – even in death. I should have known then, what it had taken my anger at Shadi to reveal… that I wanted him in my arms again; that I never wanted to let him go.

Unsurprisingly, Kaiba slept restlessly. He had fallen asleep half smothering me. Now he had slid down so that his head was cushioned on my side. I was sitting up, slightly, leaning against the headboard, watching him. His arm had snaked out, was encircling my waist, holding me in place. If I moved, even slightly, his grip tightened. No one, not even his past self, had ever held me like that… as if he could not bear to lose me… even to sleep. I felt protected. In his embrace, I could believe that even if I turned back into a spirit during the night, he would still hold me to him by force of will, alone. Every now and then I stirred – for the sheer pleasure of feeling him clutch me more tightly; for the joy of hearing him mumble my name into my chest. I smoothed his hair, wondering if my hand would come away smelling of cinnamon and chocolate.

His body was, like him, both beautiful and deeply scarred. It was, like him, a weapon that had seen too much use. His arms and chest were dotted with circular burns… the diameter of one of Gozaburo's cigars. Then there were the cuts, some barely more than scratches… as if someone had casually, playfully, taken slices out of his flesh. I thought of his samurai sword kata and wondered if he had actually fought with its naked blade. It seemed the only explanation for the scar at his side. It curved along the flat plane at the side of his chest, ran down his rib. It was expertly done; it did not impede the use of his muscles. It might not have scared if anyone had stitched it, but no one had. But the worst was his lower back, with it's long ugly, badly stitched scar, as if someone had performed emergency surgery – with a hacksaw.

He had chosen Gozaburo. To that extent, each mark on his body was of his own volition. But only one was of his making.

A slim band of navy blue waves was etched around his slender leg, just above the ankle. Their crests gleamed faintly white against his pale skin, as the ruin of his Duel Tower slowly sank beneath their surface. Rising out of the wreckage, his Blue Eyes White Dragon, glistening silver within its navy outline, took flight. I wondered what poisonous substance he had used to engrave his message of hope; his acceptance of my challenge. For the dragon was not soaring triumphantly, but embarking on a quest…

I had left my own, less permanent marks – on his neck, on the inside of his thighs. I shook aside the thought that Gozaburo and I had one thing common: we both had the need to leave an imprint of ourselves, a record of our passage, on Kaiba's skin.

I caressed the circle I had left on his neck, stroked the faint, fading impression of my teeth. Kaiba smiled in his sleep, moaning softly, as if remembering the feel of my mouth. I hoped I had left him with, not an intrusion, but an anodyne.

I held him tighter, as tightly as he held me. I was not surprised at the extent of his wounds. No one who had heard Kouma's artless chatter would be. But I was impressed. Undressing was, for him, an act of defiance. He had stared at me so belligerently as he stripped, silently daring me to accept him as he was – or not at all.

Since he was Kaiba, his glare had been a challenge, but it had also been a plea and a declaration. When he had thrown off his shirt, he had revealed his trust, his belief that he did not need to guard himself against me… that he wanted me to see him… to see all of him. It had been his first act of intimacy, of love, of the night.

It was probable that Kaiba did not realize the true nature of his challenge: did not realize that he was daring me to care for him – to love him – scars and all.

I was under no illusions. One round would not end this duel. Kaiba had brought himself to accept my offer, because he had convinced himself that only the most shallow of emotions, if any, were involved. As if he could allow himself to take me only by deluding himself that I could never truly be his. By morning, he would probably be convinced of my indifference.

As usual, what Kaiba was thinking was glaringly obvious. It was the 'why' that eluded me. But perhaps he had left me a clue. His duel with Isis had not been the first time that Kaiba had managed to defeat destiny. Looking at the surface of his skin I marveled at how hard he must have fought to be something more than the grist in life's mills… winning that battle only to face a harder one: to become something more than the demon that those choices and that battle had created. I would never tire of watching him struggle.

Once, I had told him that he was my equal. I had meant it. He had proven it the night he had sent me back to Yugi, the night he had sent me scrambling to match his courage. But this was a different game; a duel whose nature he could not fully comprehend. And so, he was as out-matched. As usual, he was fighting himself. The only difference was that this time he was fighting his desires as well as his demons.

My task was to hold on to enough patience to let him work things out, in his own, probably convoluted, way, and at his own snail's pace. To trust that he would meet this new test as he had all the others in his brief life. To believe that he would be – that he wanted to be – not just my lover, but my love. I had waited 3,000 years for someone who could be, not just my partner, but my rival; not just my rival, but my match… and I was not going to lose, now that I had tasted victory... now that I had tasted Kaiba.

For once I had been as deceptive as he. I had sprung a Trap Card. If he had needed to be told of Mokuba's love, he would not recognize mine. He wasn't ready to see or accept it. But that didn't mean I wasn't offering it all the same.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Uhhh…. I don't have much to say, except I'd sure like to know what people thought.

I actually have a funny (at least I hope it's funny) story about this chapter. I started writing it from Yami's POV in a notebook. Then I put it aside, and when I went back to it a day or so later, I had a different notebook. But I remembered where I had left off. Except I forgot who was doing the narration and decided it had been Kaiba. Then I (or Kaiba) ran out of things to say. When I went back to it, I had the first notebook. I remembered (again) where I had left off – but forgot (again) that I had switched to Kaiba's POV, so I finished with Yami. When I went to type it up, I groaned – but then I tread it and decided I liked the POV shifts, even though it was totally accidental. So I left it.

Kaiba Note: I think in Kaiba's mind he's made a bargain – he gave up his ability to feel because he felt that was essential for Mokuba's safety. In his mind, it's a done deal – and since it connects – or once connected – to Mokuba's safety, I think he'd be very slow to realize, or even question, whether his assumptions about himself are true.

RESPONSES TO REVIEWS:

One thing I've really enjoyed is getting responses and e-mails where people try to guess what's coming next, or suggest story directions. I get a kick out of it when people guess right, and when people suggest something I've never even thought of – I usually stop to consider what I may have overlooked. I feel a little awkward in not responding, but I can't answer questions about what happens next without giving spoilers to my own story.

Chess (A-verbis-ad-verbera) I think Seto Kaiba has a lot in common with both the Queen and the Knight. As you said, the Queen is charged with the responsibility of protecting the King. She's the most powerful piece, but if she forgets or fails at this duty (as at Death-T) the game is over. But the Knight also strikes me as a good comparison, because the knight is the one who often opens the offense. He's one of the first pieces out on the board, he's often one of the first major pieces to be sacrificed or captured, and his movements, and the way he jumps over pieces seems to have an erratic, unpredictable quality to it. Also the knight is the only chess piece whose moves are not duplicated by the Queen. Although I compared Kaiba to both pieces in chapter 13, I dropped the Queen analogy and have run with the Knight one for two reasons. First, I decided that a male chess piece was more appropriate for a male character, since referring to Kaiba as the Queen would be distracting to say the least. Also, since so much of Kaiba's life is concerned with his internal and external battles, I thought the Knight was appropriate in that way too.

Seto and Gozaburo: (AmunRa, Desidera, EcoGoth, Mistal: The Poisoned One, samurai-ashes) It's funny – sometimes when I'm editing a flashback scene with Gozaburo, I look at it and think, 'Did I actually write that?' I see there whole relationship as a continuation of that chess match. It's as if it never really ended, but simply moved to a larger stage.

Mokuba and Kaiba (Desidera, EcoGoth, QueenOfGames2, samurai-ashes) In this story, I think Mokuba and Kaiba's relationship is in a state of change – because as Mokuba gets older, Kaiba would start to realize just how many of the things he's been hiding from Mokuba, his little brother already knows. I think that ties in with Alcatraz, where for the first time, Kaiba asks Mokuba if he thinks that he can really let go of his anger and bitterness, and Mokuba tells him that together they can do anything. So I tried to continue that idea of Kaiba letting Mokuba see some of what he's really feeling – although I think that would be hard for him.

By Death-T, Kaiba was completely psychotic. He was a danger to himself and everyone around him. But he has never been the sort of person who makes excuses for his behavior – even in situations that were wildly out of his control – and I think that would make it harder for him to forgive himself – or understand how Mokuba could do so.

Story length, plot, characters, etc.: (Clarity 2199, Katie Torango, Kekewey, Masako man, Nachzes-Black Rider, Sylvia Viridian, Wintersslayer) I'm trying to tell one, continuous, almost ridiculously long story. I'm enjoying it a lot. There's a lot more to go, and I think and hope it will all tie in by the end. I realized at some point that I'm trying to tell the story through the emotions of the participants – and yet have a recognizable plot that moves towards a conclusion. I can't say how much I appreciate people taking the time to let me know that you're enjoying the story, and that you look forward to hearing the next part.

Time Travel: (samurai-ashes) As unconscious as this makes me sound – until I read your review, I hadn't realized how many things that Seto and Kouma are learning here foreshadow stuff that happens to them later – like Seto's connection with Yami or Kouma's love for Capmon. It's interesting – I'm not sure if the implication is that what they've experienced here influences them later, or if it's just that they're drawn to the same people and things at any stage of life.

Style: (laura m) I didn't realize that unblooded wasn't a word. It sounds like it should be one though, doesn't it? I was thinking of fables about sword s that once drawn could not be returned to their sheaths unless blood was spilled – which seemed to me to describe both Kaiba's resolve and the destructiveness that often follows him. As for hyphens – guilty as charged. I never met a dash I didn't love! But I actually went back through this chapter and changed quite a few to commas or semi-colons, although there are probably still too many left.