Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! *takes a dramatic bow*

"Be my bad boy, be my man, be my weekend lover, but don't be my friend."

~ Bad Boy, Cascada

Chapter 11

From the moment he told Alistair to stay away, Seto regretted it. It had been humiliating to have Alistair acknowledge out loud that he couldn't do more than kiss him, but even though that was all it had been, Seto found himself missing it. The day after their argument he'd come home from work and gotten almost all the way upstairs before he remembered the ban he'd placed upon what had become a routine part of his day. Grimacing in annoyance, he'd gone to the pool instead, each successive lap a punishment for his pigheadedness. After finally exhausting himself, he'd dragged himself to the shower where he was irritated to find that he was still thinking about Alistair.

Seto sighed and tapped his fingers against the tiled shower wall. As little as he wanted Alistair anywhere near him emotionally, cutting himself off from him physically hadn't been one of his better decisions.

Alistair allowed himself to stew for three days over having been so abruptly tossed aside. He knew he should have expected as much from someone so volatile and was incredibly frustrated by the sense of betrayal he nonetheless felt.

To combat this, on the morning of the fourth day, he decided to take Kaiba's advice and seek out the release he was craving elsewhere. It wasn't like it had to be Kaiba. Anyone would do; his attraction to Kaiba was case in point.

While breakfasting with Mokuba, he mentioned that he was interested in going out for the day. Even several months into his stay with the Kaibas, Alistair couldn't help but feel rather foolish having to ask a kid for, for all intents and purposes, an allowance. But as always, Mokuba didn't even bat an eye as he pulled out his wallet.

"Sure thing. How much do you need?"

It was something Alistair hadn't considered.

Sensing his uncertainty, Mokuba offered a solution that he realized he ought to have considered weeks ago. "Hey actually, it doesn't matter. I'll call Roland and have him see about getting you a credit card, and in the meantime, you can use my debit card. I never need it anyway. Here." He placed the blue plastic card on the table. "The pin is 0725. Just don't tell Seto; I'm probably not supposed to give you this. But it's ok!" he added when Alistair started to protest. "I trust you, so it's really no problem. You can use it at any ATM, but it's best to use the Domino Bank ATMs because we're partnered with them."

Alistair hesitated. It certainly would be nice not to have to ask for money every time he went out, but taking Mokuba's debit card against Kaiba's will seemed unnecessarily risky."Are you sure?"

Mokuba slid the card across the table. "Seto won't even know. If anything, our accountant would ask me about it since it's my card, but I doubt he will. And you really shouldn't be so scared of Seto."

"I'm not scared of him," Alistair balked, his revulsion at the notion that Mokuba could even think such a thing propelling him to pick the card up and shove it in the pocket of his jeans. "I'd just rather not get kicked out before I get my license."

"No one's going to kick you out," Mokuba said, unpleasantly surprised that Alistair really thought them so callous. "You're Seto's guest and I mean, I know you're older than me, but I kind of thought of you as my friend."

Alistair started at the word 'friend' and looked more closely at Mokuba, who, given his preoccupation with Kaiba, he'd neglected to really think about. He thought back on the dust coating the majority of Mokuba's multi-player games and how happy the younger teen always seemed when he agreed to play them with him. He'd surmised then that Mokuba was probably lonely, but it hadn't occurred to him until that moment that Mokuba's true motivation in convincing his brother to take him in in the first place had been so that he could finally have a friend.

It was so pathetically sad that the only friend the kid had was someone who'd tried to kill him, it made Alistair's heart ache.

"Yeah, of course we're friends," he responded seriously, and was pleased to see Mokuba perk up considerably. "You're right, I'm just being stupid. Thank you for the card: I promise I won't abuse it."

Mokuba relaxed back into his chair and started attacking his pancakes again. "Don't worry about it. And hey, what are you going to do in the city?"

"Just walk around," he lied, his eyes on his own half-eaten breakfast. "I kind of want to go to the library and then I might grab dinner downtown." Luckily, Mokuba, once again absorbed with his food, didn't notice.

Alistair spent the remainder of the morning in his room, the passage of time marked by how many of his clothes were strewn across the couch and bed. If so much of his concentration weren't being exerted on piecing together a clothing combination suitable for the day's chosen activity, he might have taken a moment to scoff at the number of things he'd acquired over the summer.

As the noonday sun splashed through his windows, providing a plethora of places for Sewell to stretch out, Alistair finally settled on a simple black tank top with dark jeans. He was annoyed that after spending two hours on the project it was the best he could come up with, but everything else he owned had seemed too loose for what he was aiming for.

Glancing at the clock that at some point had had new batteries installed, Alistair realized it was nearly lunchtime and quickly rooted around for a hoody lest he violate Trudy's dress code by showing up to the meal without sleeves.

Over a lunch of roast beef sandwiches and salad, Alistair broke the news to Trudy that he wouldn't be home for dinner. Normally Trudy would have been affronted that one of her boys would ever dare choose to eat someone else's food, but she was rather pleased that Alistair was at last taking an interest in the world outside the estate, and so took the news in stride.

After lunch, Alistair retrieved his trench coat from his room and headed out into the warm, late summer afternoon. As he was adjusting his helmet and checking the gauges on his motorcycle, he winced at the prominent scratch it still bore down the side-a scar leftover from his and Mokuba's accident. But now that he had more ready access to money, perhaps he could finally have it fixed, Mokuba's debit card opening an entirely new realm of possibilities. He could order food anywhere he chose without even looking at the price if he wanted to, he could spend an afternoon at the arcade, he could buy himself new books to read-the sky was the limit. But before anything else, he decided to finally get himself a new phone charger and cell phone plan. It wasn't that he had anyone to talk to (yet), but a cell phone would hopefully reconnect him to a world beyond just Kaiba. Most importantly, he could start looking for opportunities to earn money of his own because while the card safely tucked in his otherwise empty wallet would do for now, the golden goose was bound to dry up sometime.

Alistair hadn't been into town for a few weeks, and he was surprised by the odd sense of relief he felt at being surrounded by the honking of cars and the general hubbub of humanity. Alone on his motorcycle, he was able to be a part of the crowd and watch the goings on without really having to involve himself, which suited him just fine. As the traffic inched forward, he observed a group of teenagers with duel disks marching along the sidewalk with what he was sure was supposed to be swagger but in fact just made them look like children parading around proudly in their mother's' high heels. He grinned at the image before shifting his focus to the other side of the street where a roadside billboard advertised advance season passes to Kaiba Land, which was scheduled to open the summer of the next year. The billboard was incredibly try-hard, in Alistair's opinion, the entire sign held in the clutches of what else but a pop-up Blue Eyes White Dragon.

The traffic finally started to clear and he rode on, now preoccupied with finding somewhere to park.

An unplanned city, downtown Domino was a labyrinth of dead ends and winding side-streets where every available inch of space was dedicated to either a storefront or front stoop such that the tantalizing smells of cooking food intermingled grotesquely with the stench of rotting garbage.

He emerged onto a main thoroughfare dominated by a startlingly yellow building that sloped sharply upward so that from the street it seemed to form the peak of a pyramid. That the building predated the arrival of the Millennium Items in Domino didn't make the coincidence any less amusing. A polished steel sign outside the main entrance alerted visitors that they were about to enter the Domino Public Library and the first stop on Alistair's list.

After parking in the back lot, Alistair followed a small throng of patrons into the library's front lobby and tentatively approached the front desk. The late-middle aged woman seated there looked exactly as Alistir would have imagined a librarian to look all the way down to her thick glasses.

"Hi," he began uncertainly. "I was, uh, hoping to get a library card, but I'm not sure exactly how that works."

The peeved expression vanished from the woman's face at the mention of a library card. She could see plainly that the young man was from across the border and would have assumed he would be unable to read, let alone seek out a library card, but she was pleased to be proven wrong.

"Yes, of course. Well, it's quite simple actually. Just go over to that machine just past the checkout counters there, you see? And you type in your information and then come back to me and I'll print you a card."

"And how much is it?"

"Why, nothing," she replied, seemingly taken aback. "The only thing that costs you money here is not bringing our materials back on time. Well, and a few of the new releases, but those are pretty clearly marked."

"Oh." Alistair was embarrassed not to have known and quickly made his way to the computer she'd indicated and pulled up the 'new patron' menu to begin the library card form. He immediately saw that the keyboard didn't have all the characters he'd need for his last name and rather than attempt to spell it out phonetically, he abandoned it altogether and used Trudy's instead, distancing himself from his past out of habit. Filling in Kaiba's address gave him little pause since he highly doubted anyone would care enough to look it up. And even if they did, it was possible that the occupancy was unlisted.

"Alistair Ravensdale. Now that's a name you don't hear every day," the librarian exclaimed when he'd returned to her desk. "Alright, Alistair, if I could just see some ID." But she'd said it more out of obligation than the expectation that he actually had anything to show. Predictably, he bit his lip. Sparing him the need of coming up with a justification, she added. "Never mind, it's alright. I'll let you get away with just a phone number." Something about his abashedness made her believe he really just wanted to use the library, not steal anything.

"Thank you so much," he mumbled, and quietly rattled off his cell phone number. "After this I'm going to get a charger, so it should work then," he promised.

"That's fine," she replied reassuringly as behind her the card printer whirred into life.

After having the warm card placed in his hands, Alistair thanked the woman again and wandered further into the depths of the library.

The library's interior comprised of two main levels and a third floor used to file old newspapers, magazines, and microfilm dating back almost to the turn of the last century, as well as the library's more valuable and rare books. Alistair meandered through the nonfiction section on the first floor, breathing in the familiar smell of old paper emanating from rows upon rows of books. Even though the building itself had a distinctly 1960s feel with bold colors and polypropylene furniture, once a person was amongst the books, that feeling melted away. Brand new biographies on people like Maximillion Pegasus and dusty tomes outlining the achievements of forgotten Greek generals shared the shelves in a colorful hodgepodge that Alistair liked immediately.

Beyond the ocean of books was an almost anachronistically up-to-date computer lab where students sweated over their first essays of the semester and old men struggled to check their email, aided by patient library employees. Alistair looked around and located an available consol sitting at a conveniently private angle facing the back wall. He took a seat, punched in the login information on his library card and let his fingers hover over the keyboard as he tried to decide how to word his search, finally settling on: gay clubs in Domino.

The moment the search results popped up on screen he glanced furtively around to make sure no one was about to walk behind him before selecting a promising article in a local magazine, Out Loud, titled: "A Night Out in Domino" wherein the word 'out' was shaded in with rainbow colors. The author sang the praises of a nightclub called 'Byzantium', but the word "exclusive" spurred Alistair to skim further into the article. A retro-style bar and restaurant named 'Twist' seemed much more promising. Even if he failed to meet someone, he'd at least be able to get dinner. A quick follow-up search revealed that it wasn't far from the library and located relatively near a parking structure. It would do.

Alistair spent the next several hours happily perusing the library and mentally bookmarking materials he wanted to come back for and only noticed the time when his stomach growled loudly.

With some reluctance despite his hunger, he backtracked through the library to the main lobby and smiled briefly at the librarian before walking out the front doors and into the parking lot.

A few laps of the city center later (including a quick stop at an ATM and then a nearby hotdog stand where he swiftly devoured two hotdogs) Alistair entered a cramped phone store. He'd passed by several Kaiba Corp owned electronics stores, but didn't fancy making it too easy for Kaiba to track him. His momentary flash of irritation at Kaiba's hypothetical meddling caused him to miss the brief look of disdain given him by the sales assistant seated behind a counter jam-packed with cellphone accessories.

"I need to get a new charger for this phone," Alistair explained when the man failed to acknowledge him, placing his cell phone on the counter. "And a phone plan too. Something unlimited. And I want to keep the same number if I can."

The man examined the phone before nodding and retrieving the corresponding charger from the wall behind him. After setting it back on the counter he rattled off the plans the store had available in an impressively emotionless tone. Alistair was perplexed by the man's thinly veiled hostility, and only his recently filled stomach allowed him to keep his temper when replying, but in the end he left with what he wanted. With his new charger stored in the compartment under his seat, it was finally time to locate the bar he'd read about.

It wasn't hard to find. After parking his bike in the nearby parking structure, he barely had to turn back out onto the street before he saw the brightly colored sign for 'Twist', made even more obvious by the large rainbow flag stretched proudly across the front window.

He hesitated momentarily before entering and was immediately hit by the blaring of a heavily remixed pop song. 'Twist' was laid out like an old fashioned diner with squashy plastic booths in a violent shade of red and gleaming black and white checkered floor. Framed posters of Madonna, Britney Spears, and other, more recent pop icons fought for space on the walls so that Alistair wasn't sure where to hold his gaze.

"Are you just gonna stand there all evening, sugar, or are you gonna come in and order something?" Alistair blinked, and realized that the drag queen bartender was addressing him.

"Oh…I…Yes. Sorry." Slightly flustered, he let the door swing shut behind him and took a seat at the counter after awkwardly pulling off his jacket and folding it onto his lap.

"What's your name? I haven't seen you around here before," the waitress asked, looking him over, her bleached teeth furiously working a piece of blue bubble gum.

"My name's Alistair," he mumbled, trying to avoid staring into her ample cleavage.

"Alistair," she repeated his name back at him around her gum. "I bet you get guys swooning all over you with a name like that." She ignored his weak denials. "Well, Alistair, you can call me call me Crystal. At least until I get off work." She batted her long black eyelashes so that they feathered against her cheekbones.

"Ah, leave him alone, Crystal. I know you're desperate, but you can at least have the class not to spread your legs for every twink that walks in here."

"I don't know who you're calling desperate," Crystal snapped at the man who had called her out. Alistair turned in the direction the voice had come from and found himself locking eyes with the young man who had spoken. His black hair was spiked to perfection and his slightly stubbly face and a worn leather jacket gave him a 'devil-may-care' appearance that suited Alistair just fine.

"Don't mind Crystal," the young man told Alistair with a dismissive wave of his hand. "She's harmless. I'm Darren by the way. It's nice to meet you, Alistair was it?" Without breaking eye contact, he took the seat beside Alistair and casually propped himself up on his elbow.

From behind the counter Crystal snorted derisively and patted her tottering blonde updo. "Now who's the one spreading their legs?"

Alistair knew he was supposed to say something witty at this point, but his mind drew a complete blank. Over the years he'd had to endure Valon going out and returning several hours later with some giggly girl in tow, but it had never occurred to him to ask how he did it. Luckily he was spared the necessity by Darren's rather forward approach to the situation.

"Hey, Crystal, once you've gotten the dildo out of your ass, could you possibly be bothered to get us some beers?" Crystal rolled her eyes and flipped him off before flouncing around to retrieve two glasses which she proceeded to set down in front of them harder than was necessary so that some of Darren's beer sloshed over the top. He didn't seem to notice.

"So, Alistair, are you here alone?" Darren asked directly as he took a sip of his drink, his dark eyes never leaving Alistair's face.

"Yeah," Alistair replied in what he hoped was a careless tone, though he ruined the effect slightly when he went to take a gulp of beer and very nearly spat it back onto the table.

Darren chuckled. "Twist isn't known for having the highest quality beer."

"What is it known for?" Alistair asked once he'd stopped coughing.

"Good food and hot guys," Darren explained, taking another sip of beer. "And it never disappoints." With a motion more smooth than Alistair would have expected, Darren placed a hand on his thigh, just underneath his jacket.

Perhaps it was a pity that Kaiba wasn't tracking him. Alistair wondered what he'd have to say about the fact that it had taken less than ten minutes for him to get picked up.

Alistair withdrew from his internal gloating when he realized Darren was still talking.

"I know it's early and you just got here, but once we finish these, what do you say we head out? I don't live far from here, and I promise that I can get you a better drink if you like."

With great effort, Alistair forced himself to finish the remainder of the beer in his glass. He learned that Darren was in his third year of art school at Domino University and that he was a photographer for the university newspaper. But when Darren inquired into his background, Alistair merely said that he had recently relocated from San Francisco.

"America?" Darren sounded surprised.

"Yeah, I worked there for a while," Alistair explained dismissively and Darren had the tact not to press him further. Soon after, the pair left Twist together.

Outside, Alistair was startled to see that the street had come to life, the sidewalk jam-packed with groups of young adults noisily chatting about which of the many bars and cafes lining the street to enter, about the latest gossip within their friend circles, and complaining about those blocking the way to take selfies. Darren navigated easily through the crowd, occasionally greeting friends and acquaintances, and Alistair did his best to keep up. Finally, they broke through onto an empty corner away from the weekend fanfare.

"Not too far now," Darren said, briefly resting an arm around Alistair's shoulders.

They entered what passed for a neighborhood, cramped with hastily constructed highrises to house a steadily growing student population. Littered here and there were convenience stores and the occasional pizzeria. It was quieter here, though the odd whoop of laughter or burst of music signified that the area was hardly deserted.

"Here we are." They stopped in front of a seemingly random building, and while Darren fumbled for his keys, Alistair felt the stirrings of uncertainty. Did he really intend to go through with this, something he'd scorned Valon for for years? Something that Kaiba had encouraged with such derision? This time last year he'd been one of the most trusted warriors of the last king of Atlantis, poised to trigger the dawn of a new world, and now here he was, about to be bedded by a stranger who'd probably done this dozens of times and who wouldn't even remember his name come morning. Was this really supposed to be a better life than what he'd had before?

But despite his misgivings, once Darren had buzzed into the building, Alistair dutifully followed him through a small lobby to an elevator.

The moment he'd hit the twelfth story button, Darren turned to Alistair, pressed him against the corner of the elevator and leaned in to kiss him. It was so sudden and unexpected that instead of participating, Alistair froze.

"What's the matter?" Darren asked with decency enough to sound concerned rather than annoyed at finding his night's conquest less than eager to get started.

"Sorry," Alistair apologized, a slight flush appearing on his face. "I just wasn't expecting that."

There was a pause during which Alistair noticed the unpleasant bumping of the elevator against something in the shaft and prayed that they wouldn't get stuck between floors.

"You have done this before, haven't you?"

Suddenly, Alistair changed his mind; being trapped in the elevator would have provided a timely distraction.

"Not exactly," he admitted as they reached their destination, the doors of the elevator dinging cheerfully as they slid open.

"Really?" Darren's tone held more than a hint of skepticism that left Alistair feeling rather more embarrassed than he felt it ought have.

"I mean," he clarified, hastily following Darren out of the elevator. "I've been with a guy before if that's what you want to know." It was a stretch. The fact that he couldn't even bring himself to admit that all he'd done was aggressively make out with Kaiba a few times made him realize how truly childish it had been.

"Only one?" Still the skepticism lingered.

Angrier than ever with Kaiba for having forced him to resort to this after leaving him so ill-prepared, Alistair found that his nerves were gone.

"What difference does it make? Are we going to do this or not?"

"Yeah, for sure." Darren's grin was back. "Let's go. Oh, and my roommate might be home, but don't worry about it; she won't bother us."

Darren's apartment turned out to be nicer than Alistair would have expected. An L shaped couch snaking around one wall faced a large television and harbored a coffee table piled high with textbooks, papers, and stacked plates. Canvases of various sizes were lined up along the walls. Those that Alistair could see featured complex shapes loaded with swirling colors.

"Britney, my roommate's, work, not mine," Darren explained when he saw where Alistair was looking. "I was never really interested in traditional art-I specialize in graphic design."

"Oh."

"Darren, is that you?" a girl's voice called from a different room.

"Yeah," Darren called back. "And I've got company so don't walk out in your underwear."

She emerged from the back of the apartment a moment later, one hand smoothing down a sleek ponytail.

"Oh, that kind of company," she said when she saw Alistair. "Gotcha. Don't worry, I'm on my way out." When she thought Alistair wasn't looking, she shot Darren a thumbs up and mouthed 'nice.' "Have fun, guys!" she told them with a wink before skirting around them to retrieve her keys from a hook beside the door and traipsing into the hallway, the heels of her shoes clicking audibly even after the door had closed.

"Sorry about that," Darren apologized. "Anyway, my room's just here."

Compared to the spaciousness of the living room, the bedroom was incredibly cramped. An enormous white desk had been squashed into the corner and along the front wall, but even this was dominated by a clearly powerful computer. Though hardly an expert, Alistair could tell that it was a piece of machinery meant to be able to take a beating and must have therefore been incredibly expensive. The rest of the desk was covered in printouts, presumably from Darren's school projects, as well as an array of pens, markers, and styluses. A pride flag had been hung in the window, and a Domino U banner was strung across the wall above the bed, but apart from that, the room was relatively empty of decoration, though a large pile of laundry next to the desk added a pop of color.

Alistair started as Darren came up behind him, his hands slipping down his thighs and his chin resting on his shoulder. "You're really hot, you know," Darren told him, his breath warm on Alistair's neck. It was a cue that was difficult to misinterpret, and Alistair found himself turning in Darren's grasp and boldly pulling him into a kiss.

It was strange kissing someone that wasn't Kaiba. Darren's face was rougher against his cheek, and his technique was much more exploratory. Alistair soon found himself relieved of first his jacket and then his shirt. Then they were on the bed and Darren was on top of him, his mouth sliding along his throat. And Alistair couldn't help bucking against him, a soft 'unn' escaping his lips.

It was exactly what he'd wanted of Kaiba. Oh, if only Kaiba could see him now! He'd be...what? Jealous? Surely not. He redoubled his focus on pulling Darren's shirt up, and felt completely at ease until Darren went to unbutton his pants. It was then that Alistair realized that it was really about to happen: he was going to have sex with this person and all that that entailed. The feelings of uncertainty returned.

"You ok?" Darren asked huskily when he felt his partner tense beneath him.

"I...I've just never done this before," Alistair admitted, avoiding Darren's eyes.

"Ever?" This time there was no skepticism, only surprise.

"I mean, I've kissed a guy before," he added, heat rising in his face. "But…"

"Then are you sure you want to do this?" Darren pressed, sounding unsure himself.

"Yeah!" Alistair replied quickly. "I just…" He wasn't sure what he was trying to say. He couldn't say that he was scared; he'd humiliated himself plenty already. But he was. It was ridiculous to be scared, especially when he'd experienced real danger before and been utterly unafraid. But the thought of letting Darren fuck him was completely overwhelming.

They looked at each other.

"Are you sure?" Darren repeated.

Alistair could imagine Kaiba's condescending smirk were he to ever find out that he had been too scared to go through with it. 'You love talking a big game, don't you?' Kaiba would say, his smirk wider still. 'But you just can't seem to back it up.' But what did Kaiba know? He would do it; that'd show him!

"I'm sure," Alistair consented firmly, pulling Darren back down.

It went much more quickly after that, Darren guiding him through pulling his pants off so that they were naked on top of each other, Darren lazily jerking Alistair off between them. He'd never hooked up with a virgin before and had abandoned the notion that he was in for a night of mind-blowing sex, but Darren nonetheless found Alistair's inexperience endearing.

"Does that feel good?" Darren asked intermittently between increasingly sloppy kisses.

"Yeah," Alistair murmured, sighing as Darren's thumb ran over a particularly sensitive spot.

"Come on, give it a try," Darren coaxed, getting Alistair to sit up, and Alistair complied, inexpertly attempting to replicate his partner's movements. "Use your mouth."

Alistair licked his lips nervously in preparation before very slowly starting to take Darren into his mouth. A couple of inches in he started to gag and would have backed right off again, but Darren had grabbed a hank of hair at the back of his head and started thrusting into his mouth, causing tears to spring to Alistair's eyes as he continued to choke. Surely this couldn't be what it was supposed to be like to do this.

Finally, Darren backed off and Alistair could relax his jaw and blink back his tears of discomfort.

"Now get on your stomach, ok?"

Warily, Alistair complied, fixing his eyes on a textbook lying on its side on the floor under Darren's desk entitled 'How to be a graphic designer without losing your soul.' As someone who had actually lost his soul before, Alistair found the notion of ascribing such a serious matter to so trivial a book wryly humorous. He felt Darren's weight shift in the bed momentarily and heard him open and close a drawer in his bedside table. But even when Darren stroked him with lube-coated fingers a moment later, Alistair couldn't stop thinking about the book. Why would graphic design be considered soulless? And if it was, how could that be prevented? Even as he moaned in pleasure he imagined buying a copy of the book and passive-aggressively leaving it on Kaiba's home office desk. What would Kaiba do then, he wondered, absently pushing himself up onto his forearms at Darren's prompting. Would he storm to Alistair's room and demand an explanation? Alistair gasped when Darren added a second finger alongside the first, his back arching involuntarily, and murmured vaguely for Darren to continue. He pictured Kaiba's set-jaw look of annoyance, imagined he'd make some snarky remark about Alistair's lack of gratitude, but that would quickly change because Alistair would offer to show him his gratitude, and then Kaiba would be the one on top of him like this, caressing him languidly as he prepared to-.

Alistair felt the blood rush from his face as a searing pain ripped through his stomach like a stab wound. And for a split second he thought that that was what had happened. Then he realized what it was and managed to wrap the word 'stop' into his strangled cry of pain, his hands clawed into the comforter.

"Hey, sorry!" Darren quickly pulled out and rested a hand on Alistair's trembling side. "You said you were ok, so I thought…but maybe I didn't use enough lube or something..." But Alistair wasn't listening. The pain had deadened to a dull throb, but he still felt incredibly light-headed. He closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing.

"I think I should go," Alistair said finally, his eyes still closed.

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

Alistair felt Darren's concerned eyes on him as he continued his attempt to alleviate the excess adrenaline running rampant through his stomach and making him sorely regret the hot dogs he'd eaten.

"I'm fine," he snapped, forcing himself into a sitting position so that Darren's hand slid off his side. Queasy and ashamed, Alistair wished he had just stayed in his room and read a book. What a waste of time this had been. If this was what sex was about, he'd sooner take care of it himself than involve anyone else again. Unless of course, Darren was just particularly bad at it. Thanks to Kaiba's sense of chastity, he had nothing to compare the experience with. "Does it always hurt that much?" he asked with petulance.

"No, no, of course not," Darren said quickly, his voice thick with embarrassment. "It shouldn't really hurt at all; you're just not used to it."

Alistair resented having the entire awkward affair blamed on him, but it didn't seem worth arguing over. And even through his shame he could tell that Darren was trying to be sympathetic, not accusatory, so he ventured another question. "Do you actually have anything to drink?"

"Yeah, for sure."

With his clothes back on and a can of beer in one hand, Alistair could feel his bruised ego starting to heal even though he took exception to the way Darren continued digging into his background and the fact that he seemed so unwilling to believe that he had so little sexual experience.

"Looking at you, I just can't believe you've never done anything before," Darren exclaimed for the third or fourth time, leaning back against his bedroom wall as he cradled his beer in his hand. He studied Alistair's exotic gray eyes and the silky, slightly tousled red hair framing a narrow, elfin face.

"I told you: I've kissed someone before," Alistair repeated rather snippily before taking a swig of beer. It tasted only slightly better than his drink at Twist. "Recently," he added for good measure, setting the can on the bedside table before crossing his arms. As he shifted position, the Orichalcos stone on his necklace caught the light from the ceiling lamp and glittered a bright aquamarine.

"What kind of stone is that?" Darren asked, changing the topic at last, and pointing at the necklace.

Alistair's hand immediately went to the jewel at his throat. He'd been barely conscious of still wearing it. "I'm not sure," he lied. "A...friend of mine gave it to me."

"The same friend that you kissed?" Darren asked teasingly, and Alistair could have poured his drink on him for returning to that topic again.

"No. Someone else. Why are you so interested anyway? I know, I know: you can't believe I've never had sex before, whatever. But why do you care? Do you have nothing else to talk about?" He realized in that moment that he'd stayed because he was hoping for, not a notch on his bedpost, but someone to talk to besides Mokuba, Trudy, or Kaiba. He'd cared for none of his associates while working for Dartz, but now that he was working towards building a normal life, he'd hoped that it might include friends. But if all people talked about with each other was sex, then what was the point?

Darren was completely perplexed by Alistair's irate tone, and even more so by his searching expression. To him, the encounter had just been about a quick hook-up and then maybe a few drinks and a warm body to sleep next to, but the more annoyed Alistair became, the more he sensed that they hadn't been on the same wavelength at all. It was unexpected, but rather interesting.

After finally opening up the realm of possible topics of discussion, Alistair decided that he might actually like Darren after all. He was heavily involved in social justice issues at Domino University where he was a member of the LGBT commission branch of student government, and oftentimes worked alongside his roommate and fellow Domino Daily journalist in shedding light on human rights issues that impacted the student body. The fervor with which he spoke about his extracurriculars sparked in Alistair an idea that he hadn't considered before: higher education. He'd received only minimal schooling growing up, most of which had been administered by his mother after his school had been shut down. But although it would certainly be an uphill battle because of that, college could give him the real second chance at the fulfilling life he craved.

It wasn't until they heard Brittney returning to the apartment that either of them realized how late it had gotten, midnight and one O'clock having long since passed.

"You don't have to go, you know," Darren said when Alistair moved to stand up. He indicated his bed. "There's plenty of room for two."

Alistair paused, knowing that if he were to stay, it would be a sign of a deeper level of commitment than he wanted to make. Darren seemed like an alright person, and perhaps he would be a good friend, but Alistair had long decided that he had no interest in more than that. And he knew from having observed awkward mornings after of Valon's that people tended to perceive sharing a bed as the first step in a romantic relationship, and so he declined as politely as he could, saying that he didn't want to have to pay a fortune in parking. Though he had turned his back to pull on his shoes, he could sense Darren's disappointment.

"That's real," Darren said with forced airiness, lounging back on the bed so that the side of his face was resting on his own crumpled shirt. "And hey, if you want, my friends and I are planning on going to pride night at Byzantium next weekend if you want to come with us. I could text you." He lazily dragged his phone into his hand from where he'd abandoned it on the night stand. "What's your number?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Alistair recited his phone number, unsure how he felt about even so tenuous a connection to someone he'd only just met. And he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to be around Darren without being reminded of the more shameful elements of their evening together. But on the other hand, perhaps that's how one met people these days.

It was only after he was walking back to the parking garage where he'd left his motorcycle that the full impact of what he'd done caught up with him. As dissatisfying as it had been, he'd actually done it; hooked up with someone. It made him feel more jumpy than exhilarated. He felt a degree of pressure to try it again, and at the same time a distinct reluctance to do so.

A cold breeze caused him to tighten his coat around his neck and derailed his train of thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets and increased his pace, the soles of his boots crunching slightly against the grit of the sidewalk. He felt an inexplicable flutter of loneliness tinged with regret.