Chapter Nineteen

Seto hadn't slept so well in years, despite the cramped quarters of Kisa's childhood bed. She was nowhere in sight when he opened his eyes. He stretched, taking in the sunshine slanting through her window, the same window he'd climbed through nearly ten years ago. The rich smell of frying bacon and the rhythm of light conversation filtered through the open door. It was almost enough to make him believe he was ten again, waking from a sleepover on a Saturday morning to breakfast and cartoons.

He still remembered where the upstairs bathroom was. He showered, changed into fresh clothes, and combed his hair back before heading downstairs and into the kitchen.

Kisa was alone when he arrived, standing before a glass top range. She had a pair of tongs in one hand and the handle of a pan in the other. Seto crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe as he watched her, appreciating the ease with which she moved. Hips swaying and head bobbing to the music coming from the buds in her ears. She'd pulled her hair up, exposing the delicious nap of her neck.

Seto looked through the kitchen into the living room. There was no one around, at least that he could tell. There was no movement from either up or down the stairs. As far as he could tell, they were alone.

He crossed over to her and slipped his arms around her waist. She stiffened for only a moment, then leaned back into him with a sigh. She reached up, plucked one of the buds out of her ears, and placed it into Seto's. The easy listening flowed into him, rich and smooth. He pressed his nose into her hair and breathed deep. She swayed and he swayed with her.

"I think I know this one," he said.

She laughed. "I hoped you would. It was at every summer bonfire mom and dad hosted. We'd sit around and watch all the grownups dance. Dad couldn't dance for shit. He was always stepping on mom's toes."

"I can't help but notice that we're alone."

"Only mostly." Kisa flicked bacon from the pan and onto a stack of grease-soaked paper towels. "Aunt Moriko just went across the street to talk to the owners of your old house and Mokuba's downstairs."

"How is he?"

"A little down and out." She turned off the stove and turned the pan handle away. "He said his sinuses were hurting, so we gave him some medicine and sent him back to bed. There's a TV down there, but he's passed out for all we know."

She turned in his arms to wrap hers around his neck. When she kissed him he pulled her in tighter, reciprocated with all the energy he had.

Her smile faded from teasing, to concerned. "How are you?"

Seto slid his hands up her sides. "Rested."

"You rarely are."

"I didn't realize I was so easy to read."

"You're not, but Mrs. Tomoko clued me into your tells." Kisa's fingers rubbed the back of his neck. "You're a little more of an asshole when you're tired."

Seto cocked a brow. "Just a little?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Not to me, but I hear tell you can be pretty relentless to everyone else. If you had been, well, I don't think I would've slept with you."

"Noted."

Seto slipped his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her forward to kiss her again. Her fingers were in his hair, pressing, massaging. A hot coil of need curled his belly, tightened. His fingers slipped beneath her shirt, up her spine, along smooth skin, then down to trail the waistband of her leggings. He rubbed against her, feeling that sweet friction as her leg came up between his.

She gasped and leaned back against the stove. "Seto… Aunt Moriko'll be home any-"

He nipped at her neck, ending her sentence in another sharp gasp. "I couldn't help but notice the upstairs is vacant."

She laughed, but for all her objections she was more than eager to take Seto's hand and drag him back up the stairs and to her room. The door closed and locked behind them, they fell onto her bed in a tangle of arms, legs, and impassioned kisses.

It was the most like his age Seto had ever acted. There was a rush to be rid of clothing, to find skin and heat and that unimaginable bliss. She arched against him as he explored her, tongue trailing over flesh, teeth bringing gasps and moans from her throat. His fingers worked her, loosened her, while hers threatened to bring about his end. Her hand untangled from his shirt and reached over to the little bedside table. She struggled with the drawer, yanked, and finally got it open. She reached inside and pulled out an orange box and a little bottle.

'Ribbed for Her Pleasure', the box proclaimed.

"I'm going to not to wonder why you have a box of condoms in your old bedroom," Seto said.

"Ancient history." Kisa pushed at his shoulder until he sat back on his ankles, her legs spread to accommodate him. She took his hand and spread a little of the gel on his fingers. "Give this a go. I think you'll like it."

"Do I want to know?"

She licked her lips and he watched as she let the gel dribble over his cock. She grasped him, stroking with firm insistent pressure. It was hot. Like a medicated pad over sore muscles. It was also fucking good. Seto was glad he was sitting, otherwise, he was certain his legs would have given out. He returned his gel-covered fingers between her legs and it was not long before they were both gasping, moaning, all but puddles of pleasure and desire in each other's hands.

She let him go, tore open a condom packet, and slipped it onto him. She laid back and he went with her, as if they were connected at the lips. He eased into her and it was smooth as silk. Hot and numbing.

"Yes… Seto, please, I need…"

Whatever request she was about to make was swallowed by a moan, long and needy, as he hooked his hands under her knees and pressed them into her chest. He drove into her, hard and wild. Skin slapped against skin. A carnal beat to music only they knew.

A door closed beneath them.

Kisa grabbed his shirt, hauled him forward, forced him to let her legs go. Teeth bit into his shoulder and he cried out in surprise. She tugged at the cotton in her mouth, pressed her face into his shoulder. Every gasp and moan was stifled.

"Don't stop." She said, her teeth clenched around fabric. "Please. I'm almost there."

Seto couldn't talk, could barely breathe. Sweat stuck his bangs to his face. All he could do was nod, hitch one of her legs around his arm, and keep thrusting. He wanted to be lost in the oblivion that was her body, to reach that sweet release he denied himself for two months.

It was too much. It wasn't enough.

Her body tightened around him. Arms, legs, teeth. Her last high keening cry sent him over the edge. They tumbled into that release together.

He would have stayed wrapped around her, inside her, forever, kissing her in that sweet lazy way they devolved into in the aftermath. They eased onto their sides and laid together, looking into each other's eyes, caressing fingers across skin, feeling the sweat and heat radiate off each other.

He would have told her then, with her smiling at him, loose and satisfied. Her hands ran down his arm, up his shoulder, trailing the curve of his jaw and the length of his neck. Every little bit of skin he left open to her was at her disposal and he felt no need to tame her exploration.

Even as he looked at her, with warmth and love seeping through his veins, he couldn't do it. He would have given anything, everything to say those words. No matter if she accepted or denied the world he'd be more than willing to offer her. Like the love his father had felt for his mother, it was absolute. It was overwhelming.

It was terrifying. Fear, raw and primal.

Love is a weapon, boy. You'll learn to use it to your advantage.

Seto eased away, sat up, lifted a knee, and rested his arm on it.

"What is it?" Kisa asked.

Seto shook his head.

"Liar." She sat up, lay her arm across his shoulders while her other hands threaded their fingers together. "You're thinking again. After mind-blowing sex, no less. Come on, spill it."

Seto pressed their foreheads together.

Could he tell her? Perhaps not about how he felt, but about everything else. The truth about what happened to him after the adoption, the truth of the man he'd been forced to call his father, the situation around his death. Would it scare her away? No one outside the legal system, Dr. Angevin, and perhaps Mrs. Shiratori knew what happened to him. The physical or the mental. There were scars he kept hidden, scars he hoped he could forget, but that kept rearing their ugly heads when he thought he was safe to move on.

Most of all, was he willing to risk what they had?

There was a knock on the door. Aunt Moriko's voice called through it, full of good humor and sounding close to full laughter. "If you two're done, breakfast's ready."

"Be right there," Kisa called back. Once her aunt's steps were retreating down the hall, she gave Seto a crooked smile. "Busted. Seriously, are you okay?"

Seto looked down at their threaded fingers. "There are some things I haven't told you."

"About the last ten years? I figured you were keeping stuff from me." She squeezed his hand. "Believe it or not, there's stuff I haven't told you either." She laid her head on his shoulder, nuzzled against his jaw. "It's fine if you don't wanna talk about it right now. Just keep in mind I'm here when you do. You can trust me."

He wanted to, more than anything.

Seto rested his chin on the top of her head. "I know."

"Hey," Kisa said.

"Hm?"

"Sorry for biting you."

Seto chuckled and kissed her.