Let Us Dance
By Ocean

Chapter Four: Clamant

Mokuba hadn't realized where he'd been running to. He knew he'd been running, the jarring impact of his feet against the pavement and the protest of pedestrians he had run into told him that much. But where he'd been running to was a mystery to him until he collapsed against a shop's window and looked up at its sign.

His lungs burned with their effort to pull in enough air to replenish what he had lost. There was a stabbing pain deep within the muscles of his left side, forcing him to grab at the discomfort and bend at his waist so he could focus his thoughts. He stayed prone for several minutes, his pulse drumming in his ears with such intensity he could have sworn he was standing next to a live band.

He tasted the sweat on the back of his hand when he raised it to his mouth, making himself breath through his nose so his breath would stop scraping over his tongue and down his throat. Pulling himself upright took some effort, his blood rushing out of his head with the motion, making him dizzy and needing to brace himself against the window of the shop. Its cool, smooth glass surface soothed his fingertips and was able to extend its calming touch throughout his body.

The moment he had stepped foot out his front door Mokuba had broken into a blind panic, adrenaline flooding him like a sudden rain in the desert, soaking his senses in a muffled silence that secluded him from the outside world. The image of his brother and Yami blurred into a colored mass, and he had forgotten that he was supposed to meet his friends at the local ice cream shop. He'd pushed his way past the front gate of his home, past the man who had tried to ask him what was wrong and down the street, jumping on the sidewalk only when he had to avoid an oncoming car. He wasn't aware of his actions again until the pain in his side forced him to stop running. Now that he was calm enough to think clearly again, the question rose in his mind.

What exactly had scared him so much? And why had he run here, of all places?

Mokuba wasn't used to questions that doubted his actions and revealed the confusion in his mind. His head was wired in the same analytical style as Seto's, which was one of the reasons they worked so well together in the business world. But unlike his brother, he hadn't been forced to rely on his intelligence for survival, and so had had the opportunity to develop a relationship with his emotions. He liked people, cared about them, but not to the extent that their welfare would ever take precedence over his sibling's. He had never been in a position where caring for his brother and the welfare of another clashed. But seeing Yami in his brother's arms at their home... it just hadn't felt right, and he found his concern for Yami trying to outweigh his concern for his sibling.

That was what he was struggling with now. Mokuba had been surprised when he'd seen Seto walk in the front door of their house not thirty minutes ago. Hope had sparked in his chest that perhaps Seto had considered his words and decided to come home during his lunch break so they could spend some time together. Seto's wide eyes and too-quick movements hadn't even registered with Mokuba, and he'd taken several bouncing steps towards his brother until he had noticed that extra body in the room.

Mokuba recognized Yami instantly, the wild head of hair and the abundant blonde strands entangled with the predominant black, combined with the tawny skin identified him. His excitement turned abruptly into concern at the man's sickly pale appearance. Yami was sweating despite the strong air-conditioning in the room. His arms were limp, his eyes closed tightly, and most of his weight was being supported by Seto. He wasn't sure, but Mokuba thought he could hear wheezing every time Yami took a breath.

They weren't friends in the technical sense, but were more than acquaintances, and Mokuba had grown fond of Yami over the years. It wasn't just the fact that he had helped the Kaiba brothers on numerous occasions, dueling to restore the prestige of the company and commit millions of people to the game that Kaiba Corporations funded. Yami had also recognized Mokuba's intelligence and treated him accordingly, seeing him as an individual and not as Seto's younger brother. Such treatment was a rare experience for the sibling.

Despite this fondness Mokuba felt for the Pharaoh, he had always kept his distance as his brother requested. Seeing Yami in his home, looking worse than he had ever seen him, made him worry. Seeing the manner in which he was being cradled by his brother scared him.

Seto was not affectionate. He went out of his way not to touch others or let them touch him in return. But there he had stood, holding Yami, holding Yami, close against his side while his hands felt their way over his body. Mokuba felt a fear he had never imagined grip his chest and constrict to the point he couldn't breathe. He'd managed to force out a question as to Yami's welfare, but his brother's quick and uncharacteristically hyper reply served only to heighten his fear and kick start his brain into postulating exactly what it looked like his brother had done and was planning to do.

Tilting his head back to once again look at the shop's sign, he missed seeing a young man emerge from the store and stand on the sidewalk, crossing his arms loosely over his middle and tilting his head into the wind. Mokuba sighed deeply and closed his eyes, wishing that he hadn't run to the Kame Game Shop, wishing that his instincts about what Seto was doing were wrong, and wishing that he had insisted on spending the day with Seto earlier that morning.

"Mokuba?" a soft voice asked, startling him. "What are you doing here?"

Mokuba's eyes snapped open, his jaw dropping when he noticed Yuugi standing just a little ways from him, wrapped in a long, navy blue sweater that was at least two sizes too big for him. The smile on his face was small and sincere, and his crossed arms and relaxed posture radiated the quiet solemnity of his nature. It was such a contrasting presence compared to Mokuba's jittery nerves that he instantly felt guilty for ever trespassing on Yuugi's space.

"Yu-Yuugi! I... uh..." He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to answer Yuugi's question. What was he doing at the game shop? Had it been an accident, just a coincidence that he'd run in this direction? Something in his gut told him that was a lie, but he wasn't ready to believe the alternative.

Yuugi's smile faltered, his forehead creasing in concern at Mokuba's stuttering. He took a step closer to his friend, inclining his head as the alarms began to sound feverishly in his ears. When Mokuba flinched at his movement, Yuugi's mouth went suddenly dry. "Mokuba? What's wrong?" When his question wasn't immediately answered he lost his friendliness. "What's happened?"

Mokuba shrank back from Yuugi, his deadpan voice frightening him against answering. He never liked hearing that tone from his friend. It was too much like Yami and Seto and everyone else with an inner strength that demanded immediate compliance from him. At first glance it may have seemed wrong for Yuugi to have an aggressive streak, but when those blue-violet eyes were narrowed and their color was sharp and more lively than a mass of snakes, one found themselves unable to do more than immediately comply with his wishes for fear of his temper.

"It's probably nothing!" Mokuba said as he raised his hands in front of him, trying to shield himself from the increasingly agitated Yuugi. "A misunderstanding on m-my part!"

"You don't sound very convincing," Yuugi said. "In fact... you seem down right terrified."

"Yuugi..."

"Mokuba." Yuugi closed the distance between them, kneeling before him and resting both of his hands on his thighs. His eyes caught sight of his watch, widening, then narrowing in concern when he noticed how late it was. Yami should have been back twenty minutes ago. He was never this late.

Mokuba heard Yuugi mutter his concern to himself. He quickly raised his hand to cover his mouth, his body shaking. If what Yuugi had said was true... if he had been expecting Yami to be home... then...

Tears of anguish bit at his eyes and a gasp flooded his throat, neither going unnoticed by the observant Yuugi. There was no denying it now, no matter how desperately he wanted to. Of anything it could have been, anything he could have prepared himself for, why did it have to be the one thing Mokuba couldn't defend against?

Why did it have to be that his beloved brother had deliberately lied to him?

"Mokuba-"

"Please don't ask me!" Mokuba shouted. "Please don't ask me! Don't make me do it!"

Yuugi's eyes widened in shock as tears suddenly started racing down Mokuba's face. He reached forward and took firm hold of his shoulders, trying to relay his concern and offer comfort to stop his friend from hyperventilating. He bit his lower lip nervously, his brows furrowing as he tried to decipher the words that sounded like an admission to something so terrible it had Mokuba choking on his sobs. But for the life of him, he just couldn't figure out what Mokuba was trying to say.

"He told me he was fine... just a little heat stroke... he told me!"

Yuugi felt his stomach clench painfully tight, his hands gripping Mokuba's shoulders harshly in response to the fear that now consumed him. For several moments he didn't breathe. Didn't move. He just remained still, the strength of his grip preventing him from swaying against Mokuba. Licking dry lips, Yuugi was able to force out a single, whispered word.

"Who?"

Mokuba snapped to attention, his eyes unnaturally wide as he returned Yuugi's frightened stare. His mouth fell open several times, trying to speak, finding himself unable to in Yuugi's intimidating presence. What could he say? What was he supposed to say? He didn't know how to tell Yuugi his suspicion of his brother's actions, even if Yami was in potential danger. He'd lived a lifetime of protecting Seto, encouraging him, supporting him, counseling and guiding and helping him. Never had he told on his brother. Never had he been in a position where he felt compelled to do so. The tears continued to fall as Mokuba struggled with his morality and his loyalty.

Seto, or the right thing? Why did the two have to be different?!

Mokuba was about to beg again not to have to make that choice when Yuugi jumped to his feet and ran into the game shop. He didn't resist when Yuugi raced out of the shop and grabbed his arm, forcefully guiding him towards his car and pushing him inside. Both were silent as Yuugi burned the rubber of his tires in his haste, Mokuba sensing that any words or actions on his part would only be met with harsh reprimands. There was nothing he could say anyway that would be heard. He knew from the sharp look in Yuugi's eyes that he knew what was going on, or at least understood that Yami was in need of his help.

Mokuba shrank into his seat, uncaring of Yuugi's reckless driving as he veered around cars and ignored all traffic signals. He felt bad enough as it was, and unwittingly agreed with Yuugi's urgency. The comprehending rage he saw in Yuugi's eyes was more than enough warning that nothing had better get in his path as he raced towards Seto's mansion.

As loyal as he was to his brother, Mokuba could not bring himself to divert Yuugi's anger onto him. He knew he wouldn't survive if he did.

This was the first time Mokuba had ever chosen his own welfare over Seto's.

His tears continued.

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With a faint realization, Seto noticed that he really did have a nice bedroom. The walls were painted with a soft, soothing mint green paint that exuded tranquility. The accents were of cream and beige, pillows and throws strewn casually over the large bed, the reclining chair, the rich hardwood floors, and the intimate sofa that huddled near the alabaster fireplace. It was a warm and inviting room that balanced Seto's harshness beautifully.

He'd never taken the time to admire it before, had never really acknowledged the decorator's efforts after he had written her check. His bedroom seemed different now. Smaller, less intimidating, fuller. Maybe that was because of the man leaning against him in his arms. Perhaps it was little more than his sudden alertness to his surroundings. But whatever the reason, Seto was taking the time to notice how nice he found his bedroom to be.

Blue eyes lowered to observe the chartreuse strands of hair that were feathered over his shoulder, Yami having not moved since the two had entered the bedroom. His hands were clasped loosely over Yami's hips, his grip having relaxed when his captive's struggles ceased. Yami's breathing was slow, punctuated with long periods of silence that brought to him stillness akin to death. His body was supported by Seto's tall frame, his left arm pinned between their bodies while his right hand pressed urgently against Seto's chest. Furrowed brows were the only indication that he hadn't fully succumbed to the drug's efforts to pull him into unconsciousness.

Seto was perfectly happy to stay where he was, standing just inside his bedroom's closed door, opposite the drawn curtains and the blacked-out security cameras. He was finally in a place of quiet and anonymity, and with the one person he most wanted to hold and coddle and just... just be with. This thought confused him, the desire to hold onto and feel another so foreign as to lead him to consider that it had been nothing more than a panic-induced trickle of fancy.

Oh yes. Seto was well aware that at some point his sanity had snapped and that thin line between fantasy and reality had blurred into the reflection of him and Yami standing in his bedroom at this moment. His blood raced through his veins, apprehension burning away with the realization that he was now in the possession of the one force in the universe he believed could help him recapture his sobriety. The heat of his mind and body also alerted him to the fact that Yami was not entirely opposed to the idea and that, on some basic, primal level, agreed with the need.

A soft grunt and shove pushed Seto weakly against the wall to watch as Yami stumbled away from him, having been able to coalesce his thoughts enough to enable him to resist the uncomfortable embrace that trapped him. Seto watched him stumble across the uncluttered room, captured by the body's long, straining reaches as Yami searched blindly for something to hold on to. Seto made no move to aid him, walking closely behind and drinking in every breathtakingly beautiful movement Yami made. He gasped quietly when Yami finally bumped into his bed's post, by the headboard, and came to a standstill.

The drug in his system had effectively stolen Yami's ability for cognitive thought and reason, leaving him to rely on nothing more than the basic instincts of touch and smell, what was soft and comfortable and what was hard and uninviting. Sounds were muffled by the blood rushing in his ears, his vision obscured by opaque clouds of confusion and the inability to focus on any one object. He had a desperate need for... for someone... important, to come and help him. For the life of him, he could not think of who that someone was.

Seto licked his dry lips when Yami turned, forcing him, and slowly felt his way down to the mattress. He mirrored the actions when Yami brought one hand to his neck, spreading his fingers over his flushed skin, slowly trying to massage away the tightness in his lungs. Seto inched forward until his folded legs came in contact with Yami's, unblinking eyes not noticing the shiver of insecurity his touch caused in the other.

God, he was so beautiful. His flushed skin glistened lightly as an uneven coating of sweat tried to release some of the dangerous heat in his body. His dark lashes were prominent and inviting, hiding the agitated movement of red eyes behind closed lids. The shuddering breaths drew Seto's attention to Yami's proportioned chest, his eyes unable to resist the temptation to look down the bright shirt Yami wore when he jerked forward as the strength in his arms failed him. There was just so much to look at, so many pretty aspects of Yami's physique that begged Seto to focus on them and not on the pain he kept hidden in his soul.

Seto reached out with his hand, hesitating, finding it difficult to push himself over that final, terrifying cliff, even though the dark chasm at the end held so much promise. Luckily for him, Yami's head bobbed forward at just this moment, when a wave of dizziness disoriented him, bringing his soft strands of hair in contact with Seto's trembling fingers and solving the dilemma for him.

Seto watched in fascination as his fingers moved effortlessly through the ebony strands, not encountering a single snarl or tangle that would delay the incredible full-on touch of Yami's scalp. His heated breath skipped past his parted lips while his palm was tickled and his senses teased beyond recognition with the sensation of Yami's skin, the warmth of the other man's body soothing and pulsing in nature. Yami made a short sound of protest against the hand in his hair that was becoming ever bolder in its actions, now palming his head and brushing strands of hair behind his sensitive ear.

"Shh..." Seto soothed absently, moving himself still closer to Yami, who was now trapped between the bed's headboard and himself.

Yami silenced his complaints, confused that the touches had not stopped when he'd asked them too, like they always did. He wasn't sure what to do, or exactly how he was supposed to be feeling in regards to being touched this way. He didn't want to be touched – he was too hot and his skin felt tight and itchy – but... the touches were soft, a little forceful, curious. Part of him screamed it was wrong. Part of him demanded he pay attention and accept the distractions from how sick he felt. He didn't know what to do. He desperately wanted to know what to do.

Yami slumped against the hand in his hair, the weight of his confusion and insecurity proving too much for his straining body to bear. He whimpered his distress when the hand smoothed its way around to his face, cupping his cheek and chin in a nearly unbearable heat while it supported him. His complaints were met with only more hushes and the gentle massage of fingers against his temple.

Seto leaned forward and pressed his cheek against Yami's, in part to hide from the painful creasing of the other's brow, but mostly because the simple feel of Yami's skin had sent his blood racing like an invading fog laced with electricity. It burned and excited and soothed him all at once, insisting that he experience more of that sensation, that he hold Yami closer and linger longer so he could more fully absorb the other's presence. His body shivered at the closeness. His heart doubled its pace when Yami lowered his head to his shoulder, his heated, moist breath penetrating Seto's skin as it floated around his neck. Seto's right hand remained firmly clasped on his own knee, unable to do more at the moment than telegraph the intensity of his emotions.

"...where?..."

Seto stiffened, the suddenness of Yami's question pushing him into a momentary sense of clarity that alerted him to his actions, but it quickly faded when no other words followed. He sighed deeply, plunging himself back into Yami's texture, using both his hands to hold onto that handsome face and raise it from his shoulder. He brushed both his thumbs over the parted and swollen lips, sighing in pure ecstasy as his imagination toyed with exactly how exquisite that warm flesh would feel against his own mouth. How good it would taste when he ran his tongue over that mouth... in that mouth... how fully those lips would fill his own mouth and soul and the emptiness sucking him dry of all reason. He wanted to be able to reason again.

"... you..." Yami whimpered. His hands rose of their own accord and grasped onto the arms attached to the hands holding his face, fingers digging into the material of the coat Seto still wore. He was beginning to panic, feeling Seto move still closer to him, faintly recognizing that he had no way of escaping whatever the other man was about to do... still not sure if what was happening was something that was supposed to happen at all.

"Shh..." Seto hushed again, low and tender with his voice as he moved forward until he was on top of Yami, leaning over and above him, hovering just a few inches from his upturned face. "Shh..." He folded his legs around Yami's waist, sitting on his thighs as he straddled his lap, falling ever deeper into his crafted seduction.

Molten.

That was the only coherent word that came to Seto's mind when his lips came in contact with Yami's mouth. He didn't press any further, afraid that such action would burn him to his core and destroy all that was left of him. Never had he experienced such pleasure from such a simple touch. Never had he dreamed that just the action of touching lips – not even kissing – could both silence his troubled soul and scream that this was what he had been missing. This had been the object of his desires. He was the reason for everything that had been happening to him, and he was the only possible solution to his problems.

Seto wanted more. More of the molten fire, the liquid of desire and passion that swirled and rose and flooded and would eventually crest and break on his shore of vulnerability with all the power and fused energy of a vengeful ocean. So caught up was he with this inevitable conclusion that he did not hear the stressed moan Yami released into his mouth, only feeling the movement it caused against his mouth and the heat the breath inserted into his mind.

He was lost. He was lost in everything that Yami and his mind had to offer. He couldn't think, couldn't comprehend anything beyond the glorious feel of Yami's mouth when he leaned into him, deaf to the grunt of protest and blind to the small struggles that had been awakened by his unwelcome persistence.

The next sound he heard was his own moan of bliss mixed with Yami's desperate whimpers of pleading.

The next thing he felt was a sharp pain on the side of his head, leading the charge as the rest of his right side throbbed in agony from falling onto the hardwood floor. He gasped in shock, blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his vision. Bringing himself to all fours, his mind in a vivid state of numbness, only then did Seto notice that there were two new people standing in his bedroom. Turning his eyes to the side and peering through the brown hair that had fallen in his face, Seto froze rigidly as he was met by the cold glare of two enraged violet eyes.

The dropping of his jaw was the only movement Seto made, paralyzed by the fear of Yuugi's presence and the jarring interruption of his blissful daze. His chest tightly constricted, crushing his lungs and tensing his muscles to the point of causing searing pain. The sudden impact of Yuugi's fist – the one Seto could see, still clenched and being rubbed agitatedly by Yuugi's free hand – had forced Seto not only off of Yami and onto the floor, but had also forced him back into the roaring pond of reality. He had been caught in the act. Discovered. Exposed. And he laid on the floor, beneath the man who had every reason to use this situation to his advantage.

Seto caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his vision, eyes doubling in size at the sympathetic look Mokuba was giving him. For a moment he forgot that Yami was on his bed, that Yuugi was seething beside him, the actions he had partaken in and the ones he had planned to commit. All he could see was Mokuba, standing there behind Yuugi, looking small and scared with his head ducked to the side and his arms wrapped protectively around his waist. All he could hear was the frantic beating of his own heart, deafening in volume as a silent communication passed between the two brothers. All Seto knew was that his one chance, his only chance at calming the insecurities and fear, at reclaiming his pride of control and confidence, had been stolen from him because... be- ...

"Why, Mokuba?" Seto whispered, voice broken and despondent with the reality that his trust had been betrayed by his loyal, loving little brother. He could feel the sting of tears stab heatedly at his eyes. He didn't care. In his mind, having been betrayed by Mokuba, he couldn't possibly sink any lower.

Mokuba didn't even try to answer, to defend himself or offer a thread of explanation. He could only bring himself to harshly bite on his lower lip to keep the cry of despair from tearing through and shredding him.

Yami's groan slashed through Seto's ears, turning his attention back onto the man lying on his bed. His brows furrowed against the pain the image induced, knowing that he had lost. He had lost at everything. Hiding his pain, his distress, his vulnerability. Hiding his weakness and need to be with someone. Hiding his instability, his fractured ego and punctuated confidence. Not only had he lost, he had also failed. With all his efforts, even though things had been going so well, despite the fact that he had leaned down and tasted the sanity he knew Yami could restore in him... he hadn't accomplished anything except ensuring his own destruction.

Seto watched vaguely as Yuugi gently sat on the bed, his body vividly showing the sorrow and agitation he felt. Yuugi grimaced when Yami shrank away from the extra weight on the bed, unable to distinguish that this weight was lighter and familiar. He reached out his hand slowly, not wanting to startle Yami any more than his presence already did.

"... don't..." Yami pleaded upon feeling Yuugi's fingers touch his cheek. He tried to scoot backwards, raising his knees and pushing his feet against the mattress in an effort to get away, which only forced him roughly against the headboard he was already pinned against.

Yuugi's features assumed an odd mixture of controlled rage and calm determination to assure Yami that he was no longer alone. He curled his fingers into his palm and creased his eyes as he fought to figure out what would be the quickest and easiest way to get through to him. He sighed as the answer came easily, muttering to himself under his breath while opening his hand and placing it flat against the front of Yami's face, his palm covering his chin, nose, and lips with his fingers reaching over his eyes and forehead, into his bangs. It was the most intimate gesture they shared, a show of absolute trust and deepest affection.

Yami jumped at the contact, gasping in a gulp of air and opening his eyes, revealing their clouded depths. He breathed quick, deep breaths, and gripped the sheets beneath his hands until his knuckles turned white. But that hand on his face remained still, never asking for more than to simply rest where it was. His brows pulled together as he tried to rally his thoughts into figuring out this latest touch. The part of him that had so vehemently opposed Seto's advances lunged at and wrapped itself tightly around this familiar touch.

"Yuu... aibou?"

Yuugi swallowed thickly, his relief tarnished by the anxiety in Yami's tone. "Yes, baby. It's me. I'm here." His heart ached at the deep, soulful sigh his lover released, and braced himself as Yami leaned forward into his chest, his fatigue overwhelming him. Now that Yuugi was here he knew he was safe, finally allowing himself to fall into unconsciousness.

Yuugi wasted no time in pulling his oversized sweatshirt off and maneuvering it onto Yami, wanting him to be constantly reminded of his presence, even if he was unconscious. He steeled his emotions as he positioned Yami onto his back and stood, one arm wrapped securely around Yami's waist while the other held the arms around his neck. He strode purposely to the door, pausing only when he came even with Mokuba.

"I know this wasn't... easy for you," Yuugi sad flatly, keeping his eyes locked on the open door in front of him. "And for that, I thank you."

Mokuba peaked from behind his bangs to look at Yuugi. He wasn't entirely convinced that he deserved any gratitude, but perhaps Yuugi was willing to try-

"However."

Mokuba's hope that Yuugi would help him and his brother died with that word.

Yuugi turned his head enough to emphasize his warning, one eyebrow raised in accent to his stern gaze. "Neither you or your brother are welcomed around us again, under any circumstance." He paused, giving Mokuba the opportunity to understand that he would be receiving no help in repairing the damage he and Seto had done to themselves. "As of this moment, consider all connections between us severed."

Mokuba felt a tear roll down his cheek as he watched his friend walk out of his life. It hurt. It hurt knowing how angry and betrayed Yuugi felt. It hurt knowing that he and Seto were the direct cause of that pain. It hurt knowing that Yami had been so intimately violated, and the person who had assaulted him...

He turned to his brother, who was still hunched on the floor where he had fallen. He didn't even try to get Seto's attention, knowing that the far away look in those blue eyes meant that his brother was in a place he could not reach. Slowly, Mokuba turned and closed his brother's bedroom door, sliding down its surface and coming to a rest on the floor.

If his brother was going to hit rock bottom, then Mokuba was going to go there with him.

to be concluded...