Author's Rant: Enjoy the next chapter everyone. Thanks for your participation!
~Side Notes:~ Corrections made. Thank you so much Ocena Strex babes. You're a sweetheart.
In Motion
What a rush.
Sensations were abruptly shooting throughout Yugi's body in uncontrollable tingles. There was no telling what was up or where was down, but he knew there was no chance of stopping. Hell, he didn't want to. This unexpected moment was all he could think about in his muddled mind. A few times, Yami's kisses ceased so he could lift up a small smidge and stare into Yugi's eyes, gaze intense with unleashed emotions. They were positively raw with passionate want and a growing desire to find that trust he so longed for.
"Don't make me regret this," Yami murmured against Yugi's mouth. The teen tasted and felt the words vibrate on his lips.
Yugi's eyes were hooded in a haze of violet lust. He went quiet as he too searched for the questioning signs of distrust in Yami's eyes. The apprehension was still evident. Yugi pressed his lips up in a soft kiss.
"I won't, Yami." He kissed him again and again, each one growing heatedly needy. "Put your trust in me. I want this. I want you."
The sincerity of his words was too hard to ignore. Feeling as if the weight of the world had finally disappeared from his shoulders, Yami wrapped his arms around Yugi's waist and held him close. Looking down at this young man whose face held so many similarities to a long lost love; it was easy to see the differences now. Those softer round eyes wanted to be there for him. That heart-shaped face possessed an isolated expression solely for Yami and there was this harmonized beating in Yugi's chest that Yami could feel threatening to break through his rib cage.
One hand traveled up Yugi's sides, slipping beneath his shirt. Yami felt hot scorching skin, as if stepping from beneath the sun and the imprint of ribs and tight muscles. Yugi's eyes rolled shut, squirming, his breathing hitched. The older man's hands were rough and dry as brillo pads. It felt so good, so alien against his body. Yami's hands gripped his sides as his thumbs massaged in circular motions wherever he seemed to find a bulk of muscle.
When Yugi opened his eyes again, his breath caught in his chest.
Yami's gaze was hauntingly ominous. The halo of moonshine glissading through the curtains couldn't have made him look more magnificent. There was an aphrodisiac craving that darkened his eyes to a deep vermillion. The scene stole Yugi's breath away.
"Yugi," Yami said his name as if the syllables alone were made of something addictive. He captured the young teen's lips once more, this time adding more sweet pressure. His hand squeezed over Yugi's sides.
"Mmm Mmm." Yugi jounced his face up, opening his mouth and traced Yami's bottom lip. His hot, wet tongue softly and eagerly followed the seam of Yami's lips, silently seeking a taste. Yami's firm tongue probed and licked with a slowness before feathering across the thicker pair and intruding in Yugi's mouth with a forceful thrust. The sudden intrusion sent shock waves through Yugi's body like he'd never experienced.
He couldn't get close enough. His blood was boiling at a feverish pitch. Their tongues swam and tangled in a dance of raw desires and heightened pleasure. It was aggressive and fast. Yugi moaned in Yami's mouth when he felt those calloused fingers squeeze beneath the mattress and his back to trace the line of Yugi's spine.
Yami relished in Yugi's sensitivity, swallowing every jolted moan he could steal from the teen's body. Yami pulled him close, pressing Yugi's clothed chest to his. His lean arms settled heavily on Yami's shoulders and embraced him. Their tongues intertwined and mingled, assertively combative. Yami groaned like an animal. His pulse was reaching racecar speeds. His skin was on fire and the everlasting kiss was drugging him with a high that none of his drugs could ever achieve.
Then Yami's hand lift from Yugi's lower back to come around and massage over the swell of the teen's pectorals. They were plump, firm and ripe with youth and stamina. His abdomen was tight and cut from a lifetime of baseball.
Yugi gasped. Yami plunged his tongue in deeper, refusing to let up. The taste was too wild, too potent and filled with a newness he couldn't savor enough of.
Yugi desperately wanted more. His mouth fell away littering tentative licks and kisses along Yami's jawline, following the curving that lead to the dip of his collarbone. Yami's skin had a distinct salty tint that exploded on Yugi's tongue like dynamite. It was so delicious. Sections of muscles coiled under Yugi's hands whenever he pressed his lips on a new span of flesh.
It was when he found a small hollow dip in Yami's neck that Yugi learned that there was something that could virtually cripple the Red Eyes leader. A long, drawling moan escaped his lips when Yugi started lightly laying kisses there, soft as an ocean breeze and hot as boiled metal pressed to his flesh.
"Shit," Yami's rumbling voice grunted. It has been such a long time since he caved in to pleasure. With Yugi, it was brand new, like taking the first sip of water after days of thirst.
Yugi wasn't shy either. He had his hands mapping over the ridges of Yami's abdomen, feeling across the rise and falling slopes of his board shoulders and teased around the seam of Yami's pants. His fingers were fumbling everywhere, indecisive of what felt better from the rest.
It was hard to decide with a body like Yami's. It all felt wonderful. Yugi's hands coasted over hills of scarred skin and strong curves. Yugi tore his lips away and stared between their bodies, where a view of Yami's shadowy figure was on full display. Everything on him was gloriously toned, cut in all the right places, lean and long. Yami's body heat was suffocating.
Yugi's nostrils flared into a pair of circles when Yami lowered himself down and aligned their bodies together. "Yami. . ." He felt so good against him like this; look at him, like a vision. How could he verbally tell this man what a sight he was when his tongue was rooted to the top of his mouth? All Yugi could do was blink and stare.
Yami dipped his head inward, nosed under Yugi's jaw, brushing open mouth kisses there as deep hums of satisfaction racing over Yugi's skin like pin-needles. He helplessly turned his head to the side, wanting to feel more.
"Keep touchin' me," Yami slurred against Yugi's neck. "I like that."
Warmth painted over the bridge of Yugi's nose and his cheeks. He chuckled and started to carefully skate his hands all over Yami's upper back muscles. Yugi's eyes half-lidded and became lost in admiring pleasure. He palmed and squeezed, touched and caressed, sometimes brushing his lips on the ball of Yami's shoulder—another sensitive part of the gang leader Yugi would remember to keep tucked away for safekeeping.
"Yeah, just like that," Yami whispered directly in Yugi's ear. "Keep touching me." Yami's wet kisses tickled over Yugi's neck skin, sucking and nipping. He held the young man's waist between his two hands and laid his weight down.
In slow, even motions, Yami began to rotate his hips, grounding down. Yugi's legs spread, welcoming Yami's narrow hips between his thighs. The older man settled there as if it were his second home.
He kept the rolling motion going; maneuvering in a way that revealed how thick and ready he was to take it to the next level. The rough grind coaxed a fiery friction that buzzed a wild thrill in Yugi. His knees straightened and bent to squeezed around Yami's hips.
They turned to each other and met for another kiss, breathing becoming harsh and furiously frantic. Yugi met the sensual grind with vigor, bucking and moving. His head bobbed from side to side, coordinated with Yami's swaying tongue. The rotations became a sudden pelvis thrust. Yami pulled away and peered darkly in Yugi's eyes as his hips rose and fell, faster and faster.
"Shit, shit, shit," Yugi chanted through clenched teeth. It was torturous. He'd gone without any kind of sex for so long that little to nothing was able to make him hot. His legs rose of their own accord and fastened higher around Yami's waist to keep him locked on that precise spot—the spot where the bulk of their erections were threatening to burst from the seam of their pants.
The mattress creaked under the pressure, the headboard rocked against the wall, and jingles of items on the nightstands shook from the bed's quaking sides. Then without warning, Yugi felt his pants tugged down with a savage intent and long fingers trailed over the bulging veins in his dick.
"Ga-od, uh!" Yugi exploded before Yami had a chance to flick his wrist. It came so fast. The orgasm snuck up from nowhere, paralyzing Yugi to his bones. Cum washed over Yami's hand, ribbons of the white stickiness sputtering free. Yugi jerked forward to bury his unmanly shriek in Yami's shoulder, fingers grabbing the older man's biceps like handcuffs.
His chest rose and fell, his mind gradually clearing. Embarrassment began to make itself at home in his mind. He couldn't believe he'd just did that. Like some immature, inexperienced virgin. Cumming with just a little touch? That'd never happened before.
Yugi sighed after the last bit of cum dribbled away. Taking a deep breath to collect his bearings, Yugi kept a firm grasp on Yami's arms, rubbing his nose across his shoulder.
"Sorry, I-I'm sorry, so sorry," he whispered. How would Yami deal with this? Would he see Yugi as a waste of time now?
Instead of ridicule, Yugi was very surprised when Yami chuckled sexily and rubbed up and down the middle his back.
"Guess it's been a while for you too."
Yugi's blushing face stayed hidden. He grunted an incoherent response.
Yami chuckled again as silence ruled over. Seconds, moments and long minutes passed with them simply lying there. In the middle of the dark, Yami's mouth started trailing moist kisses on Yugi's neck. They weren't hurrying or demanding; merely faint brushes of his lips that echoed in the extremely quiet room.
Yugi rolled his shoulder where the caresses peppered higher. Yami's hand found purchase on the bone jutted from the teen's hip as he curled into Yugi again and pressed his round mouth in Yugi's ear. His breathing relaxed, his low purring quivered Yugi's body and the press of his hefty erection idling on Yugi's thigh.
Speaking of which. . . Yami was kissing Yugi's ears and stroking his skin. Yugi lapped up the attention timidly but he couldn't ignore what was happening downstairs.
"Yami, you haven't. . ." he trailed off.
"Ignore it," Yami mumbled lowly. "I'll take care of it when you leave."
"Why not now?" Yugi suddenly leered with a lopsided grin. "Can I watch?"
Yami arched an eyebrow at that.
Yugi snickered. "Kidding, I'm kidding. Really, you don't want me to take care of that for you?"
"And how do you propose you'll do that?"
"I could, um," Yugi looked at his flexing fingers and frowned like they'd just started glaring at him. "Ya know, like you did me."
Yami pushed his face in Yugi's hair, inhaled through his nose and sighed out the next few words that had Yugi's face on fire. "I'm not gonna be able to get off with your hand. We're either gonna fuck or I take a cold shower.
"We. . . we could—"
"No, we couldn't. You aren't ready, otherwise I would've had my dick so far up your ass, you'd think I was in your stomach."
How in the hell could he say something like that so casually? Yugi swallowed, nimbly playing with the loose threads on the covers. The cum was starting to dry inside his legs. The feeling wasn't too pleasing.
"What happens now?"
"You go home," said Yami. "We need some space to think about what we wanna do."
Yugi lifted his head to look Yami in the eyes. "I know what I want to do."
"You think you know, but you could've gotten caught up in the heat of the moment—"
"Yami," Yugi stressed irritated. He leaned in, noses brushing. "I know what I want. Please stop treating me like I'm out to get you when all I wanna do is be there. You've—there's just something about you I wanna protect. You don't have to keep fighting alone anymore." He thought about his next move, and carefully placed his hands on the sides of Yami's face. The gang leader froze, eyes wide. His hands twitched at his sides, but he didn't make a move to get Yugi's hands from his face. Yugi smiled and nuzzled their foreheads together. "Oh Yami."
The gang leader collected himself a brief moment, taking in large gulps of air through his nostrils. He looped his arm around Yugi's neck and tugged him close.
"I'm tryin'."
"I know, I know," Yugi said. "I'm happy you're willing to. . . Yami?"
"Hm?"
Yugi paused for a moment for whispering, "Atem wants to try too."
Yami cut his eyes to the side.
Yugi pressed their noses together again. "He doesn't want to hurt you."
"Years of bitter hatred and bloodshed can't be dissolved in a few days."
"I don't expect it to, but it can never be fixed unless someone takes the first step."
"He's a Blue Eyes, I'm a Red Eyes. The two don't mix."
"They did once. . ."
". . ."
"The Purple Fiends right?"
Yami sharply inhaled. "He told you," he concluded after focusing his eyes on Yugi's face.
"I'm glad he did." Yugi sighed and kissed Yami between the eyes. "I won't pressure you, but I don't want you to ignore the possibilities either."
"Yugi—"
"Yami," Yugi knew it was dangerous to force this issue any longer. "Just think about it, mmkay?"
Yami groaned, shaking his head as a rough blow bubbled his lips. Looking at Yugi, looking at the way he just seemed so desperate for his answer. Damn those drowning eyes of his. "I must be outta my damn mind." Yami dragged a hand over his face.
". . . he cares about you too Yami. I can't see any other reason he'd want to rekindle what you two shared."
"I lost him once and your brother. . . I can't deal with that again." Yami's voice croaked against his will. "It'll hurt too much."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Yugi leaned forward and dropped soft kisses along the tip of Yami's chin, caressed over his cheeks and his eyes. Yami shuddered like a small child caught in the cold, laying his head on Yugi's shoulder. He turned his head, using his mouth to search for the thin throbbing pulse. He couldn't believe how eager he was for this kid's touch now. It wasn't long before when he would've killed anyone who looked at him the wrong way.
Yami carded his fingers through Yugi's hair, tugging pieces between his index and thumb. It was a little coarse around his scalp, but nice and fine on the edges. Yugi was the perfect example of someone who was going to ruin him.
Damn.
"I should go," Yugi voiced. Prying himself free from the gentle embrace, he finally turned up to see Yami's sharp profile; his handsome, perfect lines. Yugi smiled to himself. "My grandpa'll be worried if I come home too late." Yugi suddenly flinched when he moved away and clutched at his arm. "Ow, shit."
Yami frowned and inspected where Yugi's hands rushed to constrict over his arm. His red eyes widened upon his fingers grazing over something slick and wet. Pulling back, he slathered his fingertips together. The thick texture was unmistakable. His lips grimly tightened.
"How bad is it?"
Yugi shook his head. "It's fine. It only hurts when I move it too much."
"Hm," Yami made a thinking sound in his mouth, quietly examining what little of the injury he could make out in the moonlight. It was a fading scar on his skin that he'd always live with. It was the size of a half-dollar, the skin surrounding the dent like a crinkled dimple.
Grinning to himself, Yugi bumped his temple against Yami's cheek. "What, you feel bad? Don't tell me you're getting soft."
Yugi expected some form of retaliation, but all he got was a tender sweep of a palm over his wound, rising until it came to rest under Yugi's chin. Yugi felt the older man's chest swell on a big sigh.
"I couldn't kill you that day . . . either you or Atem . . ."
He made it sound like a weakness.
Was it really so hard?
Yugi scooted away. The sudden space coated him like a wind chill. He sat on the edge of the bed, thumbing over the circling burn in his arm. It would go away in time. Why wouldn't Yami's wounds heal this easily?
After a prevailing silence, Yugi climbed to his feet and waited at the doorway for Yami to put on a wife beater and follow behind. He stayed close to Yugi the entire way downstairs, nodding off to his men to stand down when Yugi walked through. The front porch was infested with red bloods. Some were lingering around the railing, bunched in twos and threes around the front. Akefia, Seto, and Valon were huddled in a corner, mumbling amongst themselves when Yami and Yugi appeared in the doorway.
Akefia had the shittiest grin on his face, but wisely kept his comments to himself. He did, however, hold out an empty palm and smacked it in the center. Seto rolled his eyes, retrieved a wad of cash from his pocket and leafed off several bills before handing them over.
Yugi's lips thinned as he made eye contact with a few of the gang members.
"I'll see you later," he heard Yami say close to his ear, large hand on the small of his back.
Yugi smiled over his shoulder. "Alright, I'll see you too." With that said, Yugi descended the short flight of stairs. He paused at the third and glanced over his shoulder.
Yami raised his head to meet Yugi's gaze. Anyone witnessing the exchange would recognize the hidden meanings. Yugi tiled his head eyes, peeling with a deep yearning desire to know what the man was thinking. He was holding himself just fine until Yami's gaze seemed to liquefy into a molten lava red. The eyes slid smoothly from Yugi's face, down his neck and over the rest of his down to his shoes and back up again to lock eyes with him. That look lasted for several seconds, but it was five lifetimes in Yugi's brain. Yami had virtually undressed him with his eyes right in front of his crew without thinking twice about it. That gaze said he appreciated what he saw and had hopes of tasting it again.
Yugi smiled shyly and continued making his way down the stairs. "See ya." The two parted ways, Yami's hand lingering as long as it could last before distance tore them apart. Yami shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out for that missing warmth.
Yami's eyes hadn't left Yugi's figure until he lost sight of him down the road. The boy was safely out of danger, and that left Yami's mind full of brand new thoughts. His mind was reeling in every direction imaginable; where would he go from here, how would he start this change and when it would be best to begin this transition.
A loud voice interrupted his train of thought.
"Aww ain't that about the sweetest thing?"
A chorus of laughs responded to Akefia's taunt. Yami cocked his eyebrow at the lot of them and they either shut their mouths or scooted a safe distance away. Akefia didn't give a damn. He was howling with laughter, bent over in a white picnic chair, holding his stomach.
"You saw that shit? Please tell me you saw that. Yo, O.G. fucked that boy with his eyes. I swear ta' God, man!" Akefia boomed excitedly. "Hey O', ya sharin' that or what?"
Yami clucked his tongue, annoyed and then not so much. What could he expect from his dumb ass crew?
"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled and climbed the stairs back inside, hearing the amusement build in his wake.
"Sir, there's someone coming outta the Grove."
"One of ours or a red blood?"
"Neither."
Really, isn't that interesting. The Supreme paused counting a handful of money, his right eyebrow visibly rising over his dark Prada shades. "You sure?"
"Yes sir," his driver confirmed.
The Supreme sat up from the leather interior seats inside his jet black 2012 Challenger with onyx spider rims and a customer designed grill. He was dressed in a grey blazer, white linen shirt with tame green flowers and khaki pants. Taking the sunglasses from his face, Ushio Sr. checked out the side of his backseat window. Sure enough, he caught sight of a young man he'd recognize from ten miles away.
Yugi Muto, younger brother of Heba J. Muto. Word was this kid was on the fast track to the major leagues. So what was he doing browsing around the Grove?
Ushio leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. A grin started peeling his lips apart as he resumed counting his money.
"Shall I follow him sir?"
He shook his head and brushed a lock of pepper grey hair from his forehead. "Nah, we'll watch him from here. I don't want to get carried away just yet."
The drive silently complied and shut down the car when he'd been about to take off. The whole point of this stakeout was to find a possible weakness, a dent of sorts in Yami's armor. The Supreme has been watching this guy for days, getting word from the few men who'd worked their way into the Grove and keep surveillance on all the happenings.
What an unexpected surprise this was to see the city's baseball prodigy coming out of the core center of Yami's fortress. Now, if he were a betting man, the Supreme would theorize that this kind just might have some kind of connection with the Red Eyes leader. That Heba kid had a few years back. It can't be a coincidence that he'd see the kid's younger brother affiliating with this lot too. No one walked inside of any red blood territory without openly displaying the tattoos and colors. This kid wasn't sporting either. That red t-shirt was a poor substitute and he didn't have the demeanor of a street thug.
The Supreme reached across the seats to turn up the radio so Lyrical Homicide by The Game & Lil Wayne pulsed from his back speakers. See, now this he could get on board with. It was going to be one of those nights where this good feeling wouldn't go away for a long ass time. And he had a real good feeling about this Yugi kid.
Lyrical Homicide Kill Em N Watch Em Die
Cuz U Aint Neva Seen A Motherfuckin Killa Motherfucka Like A Motherfuckin N**** Named Game Motherfucka
"Shit, yeah." The Supreme retrieved a cigar from the back compartment and lit it, lazily pulling the smoke into his mouth, swirling the narcotic fog on his tongue before blowing a straight stream in the car. Yugi Muto turned around to gaze back into the Grove before disappearing down the sidewalk alone. If Yami was interested in the kid, the Supreme could see why. He was tight in all the right places, had a face that looked ready to scrunch up in pleasure and those eyes of his were made for seducing.
Oh, the Supreme hoped Yugi had some kind of connection to that motherfucker.
An eye for an eye after all. This was something he needed to ask that French pussy Zigfried about. If Ushio was going to get anything out of this, even a little bit of selfish gain besides money, he would definitely look into it.
Ushio Sr. looked at Yugi's disappearing figure and relaxed. With this new kind of motivation, it was high time Ushio paid a little visit to Frenchie.
Zigfried wasn't going to be too pleased about the sudden intrusion. Ushio couldn't help that now could he? He needed to up this little scheme of theirs some more.
Atem sighed and put away the paperwork on the table, then went to answer the ringing cell phone on the kitchen counter. It was about damn time. He'd been waiting on this call for a couple of days. He didn't bother checking the caller ID. He didn't need to. The person calling knew they were supposed to report in by seven o'clock tonight.
"Yeah," Atem answered roughly. "You better have some results for me this time. I'm not in the mood for bullshit." He stated and walked down the hall to wake up Kisara. Baby girl wasn't going to go to school for the rest of the week. With the shit about to go down, Atem had arranged for her to stay with Isis and Malik until Atem was ready for her to come home. She's been napping since earlier this afternoon and would spend the better part of the night talking everyone to death.
Atem needed her up so he could herd her off to the bathroom and clean up.
The informant sniffled on the other end. He must've just finished snorting a whole tube. Atem rolled his eyes in disgust, sneering.
"Word on da' street is, there's a few red bloods stalkin' around Meadows and Dawson Ave," the informant said between coughs.
Atem frowned at the information. "So, that's right on the edge of their line before hitting ours. Don't call me with shit I already know. Gimme something better than that!" Damn he hated working with fucking fiends. All they were knew best was how to snort up the merchandise. Atem had little options besides using them as canaries. They had ears on the pavement better than he did and could easily pinpoint any enemies lurking around in his territory.
Since Atem got the call from Pegasus, the hairs on Atem's body have stood up like needles. Whatever affections he had with Yami had nothing to do with the rest of his posse. The assholes were still red bloods from beginning to end. That made them public enemy Numero Uno.
Atem knocked on Kisara's door softly before stepping in. Kisara's eyes were already wide open and her head turned to the door when Atem stepped in. The father smiled and mouthed for her to get ready for a bath. Kisara groaned under her breath, but did as asked and started tugging off her clothes.
"Hello?" Atem suddenly snapped. "You gonna answer me today or what? Gimme something to work with, Fred! I don't have time for watered down info. I could've got that shit myself!"
"Calm down, soldja'. If you coulda got da' shit ya'self, ya wouldn't have called."
"Fred," Atem sneered warningly.
"A'ight, a'ight shit. Check it, you know some of your cronies been hangin' around some of 'em red bloods, yeah?"
Atem squeezed over the space between his eyes. "Fred, Fred, Fred, I know that shit already! I need names!"
"Daddy, I can go to the bathroom now?" Kisara said, waving her hands in the air to get her father's attention.
"Huh, yeah, baby girl go ahead. I'll be in there in a minute." Atem granted her a short smile as he ushered her out of the bedroom with one hand and held his cell with the other. "Names, Fred. Names."
"I'm thinkin' boss, but I can't tell ya nothin' when I don't know any of 'em. All of 'em new faces."
"The fuck—" Atem pulled the phone back and gave it a nasty look before putting it back to his ear. "How the hell you don't know the fuckin' names? I haven't recruit anybody in weeks! And the new folks know better than to mess with the corners!"
"Obviously they don't know how da' game is played if they out here fuckin' with red bloods. The shit's nuts, boss. I've seen a bunch of 'em pile in a Cadillac and roll off—"
Fred was preaching to the damn choir. Atem knew all of this shit already. Pegasus filled him in on all the details on what Duke witnessed near one of the vendor points. But how did Pegasus expect him to govern his people Atem couldn't get an ID on any of the suspects? The millionaire was laying on the pressure about looping a noose around both his and Yami's neck if the order wasn't restored.
"Boss?"
"Yeah," Atem snapped.
"Ya need ta' chill. All that stress ain't gonna get yer' answers any faster—"
"I'm stressed out because you can't seem to remember the name of the folks who sold you all that Dust. That's sixteen fuckin' ounces of Coke missin'. Yami's crew deals the green. My jokers handle the snow. So how the hell can you not remember who it was that gave you both?"
"Things jus' happen, boss. Wha'cha expect? All these faces runnin' round da' streets and shit—"
"You ain't listenin' to me Fred. All this sightseeing stuff you telling me, don't mean jack shit. You expect me to run the streets looking for every red and blue blood out there? Damn near everybody riding a Cadillac. Be more specific! I want faces. I want names." Atem swung Kisara up in his arms and went inside the bathroom where the warm water was already ran. He dipped his fingers inside the water to test the temperature and after deeming it safe, sat her inside. He poured a hefty amount of Johnson Johnson baby wash in his palm, lathered it in a thick foam and gently started massaging it in Kisara's hair.
"I can't remember how many there were. I saw them hanging on the corner and they slipped through the walls before dippin' off in that Cadillac—"
"We cleared that part up, fool! What color, year, design, something!"
"Umm, it looked like a 99' Coupe Deville. Can't say fa' sure what color it was though. Shit was ashy, like grey or white or light black."
Kisara moaned irritably when some soap got in her eyes. Atem reached for a towel and dabbed at her eyes. "Sit still baby girl," he ordered sternly. "Start washing all your private places. Do it twice—Fred, why the hell you stopped talkin'?"
"Cause I ain't got shit else ta' tell ya boss. The hell ya expect me ta' do? Shit the answers outta my ass?"
"I don't give a fuck how you do it, but get me what I wanna know in the next hour. If Pegasus calls me with that dumb shit again, I'm taking my frustrations out on you, your son and grandmother with my Desert Eagle. One. Hour." Atem smashed his thumb against the END CALL button and tucked his phone in this back pocket, beyond pissed off. He hated when he couldn't get what he wanted done right then and there. Any kind of procrastination held up profit, information and productivity. Fred's stupid ass couldn't even get him some names. How fucking hard was it to look at a face, remember the name and report back?
"You mad Daddy?"
The knots in Atem's stomach untwisted at the concern in his daughter's voice. "A little bit," he murmured, fingertips rotating on her scalp. "You know how I am when folks don't handle their jobs properly."
"Grandpa says you're supposed to get rid of the weak links in a chain or it'll break and mess up the whole line."
Atem smiled amused. "Something like that." He worked in another handful of shampoo, kneading her hairs together and parting separate folds of hair with his fingers.
"Daddy?"
"Hm?"
Kisara looked over her shoulder. "If you're sad, I think you should go see Yugi and Mr. Sad Eyes. You look happy when you're around them."
"Is that right?"
"Yep, I know you, Daddy. You act all silly and smile a lot and you don't look like a mean ole' Grinch."
Atem lightly popped her on the back of her head. "I resent that, brat. Your daddy's too fine to look like a Grinch." His fingers slowed in their ministrations as his daughter's words sunk in. "So Daddy looks different when he's around them huh?"
Kisara's face appeared skeptical and hesitant about answering in case she was hit again. "You smile like you do when you're around me and you love me."
"Naturally."
"So you must love them too."
"I think not," Atem quickly countered, prepared for that little conclusion. "Daddy loves you, money, and cars. I ain't got time for romance." He turned her around and started flexing his fingers over the front part of her head.
"You should make time," said Kisara and leaned forwards. Her eyes squinted at her father's face. Atem was puzzled at the expression, wondering what she saw. She was far too wise beyond her years. At this age, Atem was barely learning how to load a handgun and breaking it down to the last bolt. Wisdom was a distant burden he allowed his elders to deal with so all of his focus could be on having fun and taking advantage of his privileges. When had his daughter learned to know more about him then he did? "Granddaddy said if something is important, you make time to handle it. You have the picture of Mr. Sad Eyes. You weren't looking at the cameraperson. You were looking at him. His eyes shined like Yugi's and yours did too. I think you love Mr. Sad Eyes, but not Yugi yet. You smile like you do though. That's all I think." Seeming satisfied with having delivered her say on the matter, Kisara went back to splashing around in the tub water and messily lathering the bar of soap on her rag.
Atem knew it was stupid to analyze a child's speculation on what was going on with his life. If it were anyone else, he would've proudly shoved his foot down their throat until they were choking on his shoelaces. His family knew him though. Seth, especially, would scold him with a glance about denying what he was feeling and ask why he was being so ignorant about it. However, to hear the words buried so deep in his chest about how he really felt made his mouth flood with a sugary sweetness and his heart flop.
Love. Hell no. He didn't love anyone. Yami, maybe once upon a time, but Yugi, well, Atem would admit there was some connection. But love? He didn't do love. Hell no. . . . Hell no.
"Hey, Cousin Seth."
Atem snapped out of his mental rave to answer his child. "What'd you say, baby?"
"I said, hey Cousin Seth." Kisara pointed a wet finger. "He's behind you."
Son of a bitch.
Atem stole a warring glance with his daughter and the man standing behind him. Seth was wearing a plain blue stretch t-shirt and black Levi jeans with low top black, white and blue Converse shoes. His gangly arms were crossed over his wide chest. A dark eyebrow lifted to his hairline. His whole demeanor echoed like a canyon scream. He wasn't pleased at what he'd just walked in on.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough." Seth shoved of the doorframe and entered. "We need to talk."
"Cousin Seth!" Kisara scrambled around in the tub and dunked half way in to cover her lower extremities. "You can't come in! I'm a girl!"
"Hush," he calmly chided to the little girl. "Wash yourself until we get back. No horse playing either."
Kisara sighed. "Yes sir," she obediently grunted and went back to cleaning her body.
Seth beckoned his cousin to follow him into the living where they both took seats on the couch. Atem sat the heaviest. He dragged his hand over his face, mentally readying himself for whatever lecture his older cousin would spew.
He knew Seth was prolonging the suspense on purpose. He didn't say a word, just sitting there staring at the flat screen television, their dark reflections shining off the pitch-black glass. Atem had thought Seth was just looking at the blank screen. When he concentrated, he saw the older man wasn't just looking, but staring intently at him, eyes sharp as a hawk.
Atem blanched and then remembered how that would look to his second in command and simply rolled his eyes. "The hell you starin' at?"
"You," Seth answered right away. "At least, I think it's you. I get the feeling I'm staring at someone else. Maybe, an old face from ten years ago."
"Then you need to get your eyes checked."
Seth gave Atem a patient look. "For a child to explain your emotions so vividly and you not see it yourself, warrant's my concern for you. Are you falling back in love with Yami?"
"No," Atem snapped with half the force intended. "I'm not."
"Why would Kisara believe that her father might be infatuated with our natural enemy? Not to mention a young man who still has baby's milk on his breath?"
"She saw a picture of Yami in my closet. From there, she came up with her own conclusions."
"Is that all?"
"Yeah."
Seth blinked. "You still have pictures of him?" He paused. "Before or after the incident?"
"Before," Atem bit off. "Why the hell would I want any of him afterwards. We weren't together then."
"And that boy?"
"A harmless fling; someone Kisara plays with at the park. Why the hell are you grilling me like a kid who can't keep his pants on?"
"I'm worried."
"No, you're nosey."
"No," Seth's voice hardened thick as diamonds. He leaned in so close, Atem could see the individual specks of color in those blue eyes. "We're family. Blood. We almost lost you six years back. I've never seen my uncle look so broken down when he saw you damn near close to death. And why? Because you were caught up in all that bullshit with Yami and that bitch, Heba. If a young child is practically replaying scenes from years before she was born to you, shouldn't this be a clue that you're about to make the same mistake?"
"It's not the same."
"Bullshit."
"It's not," Atem insisted strongly. He studied his cousin and saw no evidence his argument was convincing him otherwise. Atem stubbornly stared off to another side of the room instead of leaving his face on display for Seth to pick off. "You're exaggerating shit you don't have any idea about."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah, that's right!"
"Alright," Seth pulled out his cell phone and slid his phone across the screen.
Atem didn't like that look. "What are you doing?"
Seth ignored him. His ear was pressed on the phone tight, making it impossible for Atem to identify the voice that answered.
"Cedric, I got a mission for you." Seth looked pointedly at his cousin with a dark smirk. "You and about twenty more head across the border to that game shop down the street from the Grove. That Yugi Muto kid from Domino High works there. As soon as you see him, you take 'em out—"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Atem saw red. He growled like a deranged animal on a rampage. Without warning, he stabbed his elbow in Seth's side, making him doubled over in pain. The gang leaders commenced in a struggle to steal the phone. He was sure he almost had the phone until Seth stretched his arm out and held his hand under Atem's chin, shoving his knee in the gang leader's gut.
"Seth!" Atem shouted angrily. "Give me the fuckin' phone!"
"What's wrong, cousin? You don't care what happens to this boy do you? You don't care. It's all a misunderstanding—"
"Fuck you!" Atem howled, hands still outstretched and thrashing. "Call it off!"
"Someone's angry," Seth's faintly amused voice taunted, long grin in place. "Or better yet, why not change the order? I'll have them go after Yami, but oh no, it'll take more than twenty to kill him. I'll send the whole west block down there. That's right; he won't see it coming when the bullet blows straight through his head!"
"SETH!"
"Or should I take 'em both out!"
"AHHHH SETH!" Atem's eyes were bright with malice. He wrenched back violently and managed to wrestle the phone from Seth's hand and shouted, "You go near either of 'em Ced, and I'll fuckin' kill you and your bitch mother!" The phone was hurled with vicious force against the back wall, shattering into countless pieces. The electric guts bounced and careened on the floor, its final whines piercing the momentary silence before the drama erupted.
The air seemed to explode with tension. The destruction continued as the two cousins went at one another with their fists. Their shouts, grunts and sounds were filled with complex emotions, anger and frustration winning above them all.
Atem's own anger, regret, and frustration whirled up in him like a fuse. His fists charged forward, the desire to hurt massively engulfing his own being. He caught Seth in the chin, quietly relishing in the resulted small crunch noise. Another punch landed on Seth's side when he tried to dodge the oncoming assault. However, Seth wasn't Atem's second in command because of family obligations. They were cousins, friends, partners thicker than oil and stronger than blood. They'd fought with each other all their lives and the odds were never the same. Seth would win some. Atem would win some. The winners were never determined until some was on the ground, beaten to a bloody pulp.
Seth met Atem's attacks blow for blow, splitting the younger cousin's lip and slamming a sharp jab to the gut that had Atem bend over and scrambling to put some distance between him and those direct swings.
Atem went as far as he could before turning and running head first into Seth's chest, wrapping his arms around his waist. Atem's hands fought with lifting the taller man off the ground. Multiple blows to his back from Seth's excessive strikes nearly took him out, but Atem was just as relentless. He hooked his ankle around Seth's leg and the two went stumbling to the ground. As one, they rolled, fighting for dominance over the other, pushing, shoving, and kicking. Blood spilled from the little cuts and slight bruising, but the pain was numbed from the adrenaline rush. It was a secondary sensation compared to the desperate need to win.
They rolled and tasseled repeatedly, fierce and angry. Their clothes were torn, their jaws swollen and lips split. Blood leaked from their hairlines and cuts on their cheeks. Seth pushed at Atem's shoulders when the gang leader locked Seth between his thighs and started drilling his face with his fists, each monstrous blow striking like lightning bolts.
"Who the fuck you think you're fightin' huh?" Atem shouted in between attacks. "You forgot who the fuck I am? Don't you ever challenge me!"
"Fuck you!" Seth bucked his hips, jolting Atem off balance and on his side, now the new victim. "I'm trying to help you understand what you're getting yourself into! And you attack me? Getting pissed over some pussy! I'm your flesh and blood! I came first you stupid . . . ignorant . . . fuck!" Seth was determined to hammer his aggression on Atem with all his being.
The world around them suddenly dropped several degrees. Ice water soaked the two men to their bones. The shocking chill jolted them to reality, out of their Alpha-macho atmosphere. They turned wide eyes and gapping mouths at the one holding a large empty bucket over their heads.
"You two," Isis's ruby red lips worked apart into a nasty snarl, "will cease this foolishness right now!"
Still gawking, the cousins took a few seconds to compose themselves, before roughly separating and sitting on either end of the couch. Isis switched her eyes from one to the other, amazed and pissed. She plopped the bucket on the floor and stalked over to stand between them. She placed a hand on her ample hips and eyes screwed thin, glaring disapprovingly at her family. She looked ready to fight as well with her long dark hair braided in cornrows, wearing a navy blue tank top, camouflage leggings and matching blue heels with gold bracelets on her wrists and gold-hooped earrings.
"What has gotten into you two? We as a family do not fight amongst ourselves," Isis's heavily accented voice boomed. "Whatever you two are disputing over cannot be so potent that it'll poison your minds into spilling blood. Your blood!" She swiped her finger over Atem's eyebrow and showed the pair the smear of wet red on her thumb. "I come in here to find you two scrapping on the floor like starved dogs over a bone. Kisara is in the bedroom crying because she thinks you're trying to kill each other—damn you both! This behavior is inexcusable! What do you have to say in your defense?"
Neither Seth nor Atem said a word. Seth neatly padded at his swollen lip with the front of his t-shirt, attempting to present his usual cool disposition. It was hard to do that with your left eye black and your bottom lip as red as ghost pepper. Atem smirked and immediately regretted it when his bottom lip started to protest. With nothing to deter the pain, everything on his body started to throb.
"Nothing to say?"
Atem snorted. "No, especially to you."
Isis's eyelashes fluttered like a fan. "Then how will you explain to your daughter that you were willing to kill your own cousin over something possibly trivial."
"It was trivial," Seth grumbled.
Atem gave him an evil look. "You want your ass whooped again?"
Seth arched an eyebrow with an expression that clearly translated he was all for another round.
"Enough!" Isis said angrily. "This will not continue. We cannot work together like this tonight; not when we're at each other's throats and Kisara upset."
Atem climbed to his feet. "I'll go to her—"
Isis pushed at his chest. "Not like that you won't. You go out, clean yourself up and when you return you better have an explanation ready!"
"Who the fuck you talkin' to like that?"
"You Atem! You!" Isis shot back. "You do not scare me. That tough guy act means nothing, not when it concerns my family. Now leave at once or so help me, I'll snatch you by your hair and drag you to the street myself!" She dismissed him with a roll of her neck and snagged Seth by his shirt, pushing him toward the bathroom. "And you, go and shower now!"
Ain't this a trip? Kicked out of his own home. After scrapping around with Seth, Atem wasn't going to risk an altercation with Isis. Female or not she could best many men with those long legged kicks and speed punches.
"Are you still here?"
"No, I'm gone," Atem held up his hands and made his way to the doorway. He wanted to go back and check on his daughter. Seeing him involved in any kind of combat violence, especially pertaining to family, is something she should never have to see. Twisting his lips to one side of his mouth, Atem turned the doorknob and looked over his shoulder.
Isis had her arms folded like a bow over her chest, hips cocked to the side and legs spread apart.
On second thought, yeah, he'll just leave. Without another word, he stumbled out of the front door and went for the elevator. Everything was hurting now. His muscles were going to be fucked up for the next few days.
Something buzzed in his back pocket, indicating a text message. It buzzed one more time. There were two messages.
Atem read the first one.
We're not finished with this.
~Seth.
He better believe this shit wasn't over. Atem dropped his head against the metal wall. "Fuck." His head was swimming and everything. Since when had Seth's uptight ass had such a sharp left hook?
Atem rubbed over his eyes and slid his thumb over the screen to read the next text.
Call me.
~Yami.
Yami? Was it . . . no. . . . Atem frowned hard at the screen. He read the message twenty times and still he couldn't believe it. Why would Yami—this didn't make any sense . . . unless. Unless he made his decision. However, who was to say this was Yami and not some twisted ass scheme concocted by Seth. If that's the case, Atem already had a beat down ready for him.
Atem pressed over the unknown phone number and waited. The screen lit up and showed 'outgoing call'.
It rung once. A low, quiet voice answered that hit Atem in a certain part of his chest like the sting of a thousand bees.
"Atem."
It was him.
Despite all he'd gone through tonight, Atem smiled softly into the phone. "Young Blood." He licked his lips, chuckling. "You kept my number all this time?"
"I didn't know it was the same," was what Yami said in a typical Yami manner. "I took a chance."
They fell silent, listening to the slow breathing.
Yami spoke again. "Where are you now?"
"Heading out, why?"
". . . Meet me at the docks."
"Why?"
Yami's chuckle rolled inside Atem's ear like butter. "To talk," he said. "I'm unarmed."
He was leaving himself wide open. Atem thinned his lips. "No tricks?"
"No tricks. Word is bond."
Atem to admit with drawn curiosity that he was tempted to go. "Alright, I'll be there in a few."
"Good. . . Atem?"
"Yeah?"
"Come alone. It's just you, me . . . and Yugi."
The phone hung up. Yami wouldn't give Atem the opportunity to question what this was about. If the Blue Eyes leader wasn't intrigued now, hearing this would be a three-way discussion definitely piqued his interests.
Zigfried wanted to slap that smirk right off Ushio's face.
Showing up at his and Pegasus's home in the middle of the night, uninvited and the only kind of warning received is a quick text and a knock on the door. Zigfried hadn't realized how terrified he was of Max waking up and hearing the man, until he made a mad dash down the stairs, praying to Mother Mary that he'd reached the door in time before the housekeepers. His sock clad feet thumped down the marble stairs one by one by one.
When Zigfried ripped the door open, he couldn't believe the intimidating Supreme was standing on his doorstep like he was ready to have a tour of the estate. He hadn't wasted time guiding his secret associate around a private part of the house to prevent any witnesses or surveillance from getting a good look at his face.
Once out of eye view and ear shot, Zigfried went ballistic.
"Are you crazy, you incompetent fool? If Max saw you he'd skin your hide as well as mine!"
The Supreme didn't lose his charming grin. He inhaled the cigar dangling from his lips and exhaled it. "I wanted to see you, sweetheart. What, you didn't miss me?"
"Don't mock me, Ushio!" Zigfried sneered with a jutted finger. "I'll strip you of everything you own if you ever do this again!"
"Now, now that isn't nice. I came to talk with you about something."
"In the middle of the night?"
"You never had a problem meeting me late before."
Zigfried pulled at his vanilla cream robes, a soft blush on his cheeks. "I was in the middle of comforting, mon amour."
Ushio's nose wrinkled with disgust. "I wanna know something about that kid, Yugi Muto."
Zigfried frowned, confused. "The high school boy? What of him?"
"I saw him coming outta the Grove a couple of days ago. Is he in league with them?"
"No," Zigfried said as if the fact should've been plainly obvious. "The boy has no legions with either gang . . . as far as I'm aware. Pegasus wouldn't allow it anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because of his brother's death six years ago, that was a part of the agreement—" Zigfried shut his mouth at the wrong moment.
The Supremes' grin spread across his face like a hungry crocodile. He knew it. "Interesting."
"I-I've said too much. I must go."
"Oh, no, no, no, not so fast." Ushio snatched Zigfried by his upper arm before the older Frenchman could make his escape. "You haven't said enough."
Zigfried gasped, at the burn of fingers coiling around his arm. "How dare you! Unhand me!"
"I will," Ushio chuckled, dabbing the ashes off the end of his cigar, "after we take a ride. You're gonna tell me about all this shit tonight. And don't skip on the details, I want to know everything."
"About what?"
Ushio snickered. "Don't play stupid now, sweetheart. You know what I mean. That punk kid Heba, Yami, Atem, all that drama from six years ago—all of it. Tell me everything."
This whole scheme just might benefit him more than he thought.