Prompt XXIII: Rebirth
Yugi plopped down beside him, panting and licking his paws clean. He looked like he'd just had the time of his life as they'd gone chasing the fawn he'd found to mark their first year together. It was a tradition his parents had established when he was younger, and one that he had brought to their den the first moon they had been together. He'd brought it to him as Atem stared, horrified to see the little deer in his mouth was awake and glaring at him in frustrated alarm. Yugi had explained it was a tradition, though he'd offered to put the fawn back if Atem had not wanted to do it. He'd seemed disheartened for that single moment, so Atem had chosen to agree to give chase.
They had eaten that morning and neither had wanted to kill it, so they'd chased until Yugi had gotten too tired to follow anymore. Atem had trailed it a little longer, snatched it up, and then taken it closer to the spot Yugi said he'd found it and its mother earlier. He'd returned to Yugi licking his face, teasing him about how soft and sweet he was, and then they'd gone to lay down again. Atem had finished the day sunbathing then, but now he sat and watched Yugi for a moment.
The Gandora flicked his forked tongue, panted again, shifted his weight, and then rolled over slightly to expose his belly. He was so content it was almost amazing, and Atem didn't know what to say as the seconds passed. Yugi seemed so happy, as if he had been given the world just by being in his presence. He knew the sensation was more or less real for Yugi. The Gandora swore up and down all he'd ever wanted was to be his mate, to be able to be part of his life and love him as much as he felt he deserved. And Atem believed that in a small part of himself, but other times he wondered. Was Yugi truthful in that fact?
Did he still not want more?
Atem didn't understand why he would think he was worth so much that he never showed signs of discontent. But he supposed it didn't matter. Yugi seemed happy enough. And as long as he was more or less satisfied, what did it matter?
He just wondered if Yugi would ever tell him should he become unsatisfied. He almost feared he'd hide it, shield himself and Atem from it in order to be nice. And then he would suffer for it in silence for no other reason than he didn't want to hurt him.
Atem blinked and folded his paws toward his chest. He hoped Yugi didn't feel that way, though he was sure he would eventually. Why would he be happy with him? Atem was almost his polar opposite for the most part, closed off and vicious sometimes without reason. He used harsher tones than he meant to more often than not, and sometimes he still gave him warning glances when Yugi got too close and he wasn't…aware there was someone else in the den in that split second place between sleep and awareness.
He lowered his head, studying him.
Was it wrong to hope Yugi never actually felt like that? He liked having him around, even if he didn't know how to articulate it. He did enjoy his company even if he took that small moment to remember who he was and why he was there.
Yugi made him feel warm and safe. He made him softer when they were alone, and the parts of him that always felt jagged and cutting weren't as terrible as they'd once been.
He made him happy at times, just because he was so goofy and easy and soft. He was wonderful. He truly was, though Atem had never managed to say the words out loud. The Gandora was everything he shouldn't have been, the exact opposite of what his entire species usually presented.
Yugi stretched and yawned, still panting, but didn't bother to look over. Atem was sure he was worried he'd make him nervous—when didn't he when they were so close together? It was instinctive and Atem hated it, but he couldn't change it—so he hadn't lifted his head yet.
He wondered if Yugi even knew how much he'd done for him in such a short span of time. Even when he shied away and flinched and bore his teeth or growled, Atem appreciated him. It wasn't something he could truly say—because what if he took advantage?—but he did all the same.
The nights weren't as long, the terrors weren't as terrible, the loneliness was eased. He didn't go hungry because Yugi would glare and huff and demand that he at least eat something even if it wasn't a full meal. He fussed so much sometimes, as if afraid Atem might just suddenly fade away from him should he miss a meal.
The deity inched a little closer after a moment, and Yugi noticeably lifted and turned his head but didn't speak. Atem hesitated, then got to his paws and moved closer. He got close enough he could have gutted him and eased himself to lay down beside him. Yugi blinked, eyes huge and hopeful, and Atem leaned forward to lay his chin on his flank, listening to the soft breathing and erratic heartbeat.
He was so easily excited.
Atem almost laughed, but the impulse died in his throat. They looked at each other for a moment before Yugi licked his cheek and yawned, stretching, and put his head down again.
It was…strange, to say the least.
Yugi was just so easygoing and gentle and Atem…wasn't.
He sighed softly, comforted just to be so close, and shivered after a moment when Yugi's flank rose and fell again beneath his jaw. He was so sweet to let him so close, to even tolerate his teeth so near his underbelly.
It almost felt like being young again, in his nest with his parents and siblings—the way it had been for only a couple of moons.
Atem glanced at him sideways. Yugi was peeking at him, though he closed his eye again as if he hadn't just been caught. Atem snorted and smirked, then inched closer to his face. He licked him when Yugi cracked an eye again, and the Gandora trembled with excitement. Atem snickered and settled comfortably.
Yugi felt a lot like home. He felt a lot like a second chance.
