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One of the wheels on Jounouchi’s bike keeps spinning, the metallic screech grating in his hears. It’s a small comfort, the fact that it still has wheels. Jounouchi could be optimistic, if the fucking handlebar wasn’t laying on the floor next to him.
He fights the urge to kick the spinning wheel, but the simmering anger inside him makes him feel restless, so he loses spectacularly. He kicks the wheel, once, twice, until the metallic screech comes to an end the wheel is completely bent out of shape.
The anger doesn’t leave him, instead, he can feel it rise over his body, wrap around his throat. It makes him want to scream, but it feels like the very thing that’s fueling his anger it’s also keeping the yell in.
There’s also the sting in his eyes. Jounouchi blames it entirely on the bruising already forming around them, on his aching nose and the split lip. He doesn’t feel like crying, his face just fucking hurts. At least his nose is not bleeding anymore, Jounouchi can sniff without feeling blood up his forehead.
Fortunately, the fight happened once the school was mostly empty. The only people who witnessed were the late club goers, and the people who Jounouchi might have become —might still become— if Yugi hadn’t stepped out in front of the fight back then.
Yugi wasn’t there today, and Jounouchi is grateful for that. He got his ass kicked, but it would’ve been much much worse if his friends would’ve been there.
He doesn’t have anything broken, just bruised and battered and fucked to hell and back. He’s also royally pissed off, about his bike for one —he doesn’t have the money to buy a new one— and about the fact they gotten him in a fucking ambush, three to one, a fucking Friday, of all days.
Any other day, Jounouchi wouldn't have stayed and take it. He would’ve fought back, kicked their asses and gone home and patched himself up, ready for another day.
But its Friday, the fucking day of the week where he tries to be less of this, the day of the week where he showers after basketball club, puts on his best shirt, fixes his hair and goes to see his sister.
He can’t see her now, not like this. Not with his bike torn to pieces, his shirt messy and a fucking black eye. Jounouchi slumps against the wall, closes his eyes and winces. He could go home, he guesses, text his sister he’s sorry, but he won’t be able to make it today; can even throw a small white lie about how he got caught up in the club. She’ll know he’s lying, but at least she won’t have to see him with his face beaten black and blue.
The messy part will be dealing with his father. Jounouchi doesn’t know —doesn’t care— what he’s father gets up to on the weekends; but what he does know is that he will not be happy about seeing Jounouchi there. And Jounouchi has had enough with the bruises from today’s fight, he doesn’t need more.
He guessed he could crash at Honda’s or Yugi’s, but just the thought of having to go, having to ask, makes his stomach churn.
So he just leans back on the wall, rolls his shoulders and feels his back pop a bit. Lucky for him, the sidewalk where he’s slumping on is almost always deserted. Most of the students leave the school through the front door, and the late club goers that take the back exit will definitely be busier with their own shit to stop and stare at Jounouchi’s pathetic form. So he can stay there for a bit more, until his bruises hurt a little less, or he gets outright numb to the pain.
And that’s what he’s doing. Eyes closed, in pain, and resting when he hears a claxon, then blinding lights on his face.
“Can you get up?”
Jounouchi knows that voice. Feels familiar in the way some teacher’s voices feels, soothing and safe, but kind of impersonal.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jounouchi stands, stumbling a bit, dizzy from sitting and the beginnings of a headache. He blinks a few times, the car’s lights still on making it difficult to see. But then his eyes adjust, and he has to blink a few more times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. He knows that car. It’s more than fucking familiar, it’s sleek and black and fucking expensive. Jounouchi only knows one person rich enough to be driven around like that. And if that isn’t confirmation enough, then the man standing next to him, offering him handkerchief to clean the blood of his face, fucking is.
Because wherever Isono is, Jounouchi knows Seto Kaiba is not far away.
Jounouchi is wiping the dried blood from his face when one of the blackout windows rolls down. “Isono?” and God, does he sound posh, “What’s taking you so long?”
Isono doesn’t reply, probably because he knows his boss’s question is rhetorical. Kaiba only turns his head slightly, enough so he can see Jounouchi standing in front of his car.
His lips curl, downwards in a displeased sneer. Jounouchi tries not to look at it, focuses on his eyes instead. He can easily see the barely disguised disgust there, and it helps him focus. Kaiba’s is as mean as he is pretty, and Jounouchi has to constantly remind himself of that. It’s really easy to forget though, mostly because even when Kaiba has a bitch resting face ninety percent of the time, his lips look pink, and plush and kissable.
But that’s just the way he looks. Jounouchi is the idiot for wanting to kiss him.
“You look like shit,” Kaiba says. Jounouchi’s chuckle gets caught on his throat with a cough. Kaiba spares him no glance, just turns his head and rolls up the window again. “Let’s go, Isono.”
Jounouchi sighs, starts picking up the pieces of his broken bike, figuring out Kaiba has better things to do that help him out of all people. But to his surprise, the car doesn’t move. Isono crunches down with him and picks up the other wheel and the handlebar, then takes the other things out of Jounouchi’s hands and puts them on the trunk.
It doesn’t end there. Isono all but pushes him towards the car, opens the door for him and makes him sit down on the cushy seat next to Kaiba, then rounds the car to get to the driver’s seat.
“Put on your seatbelt,” Kaiba says, without looking at him. Jounouchi does, turns a bit on his seat trying to hold back his groan and parts his lips to say sorry, or thank you, whatever comes out first, but Kaiba cuts him off. “Keep quiet. I’m not interested.”
…
Jounouchi jolts awake at the sound of a door slamming close. He blinks the sleep away, looking through his open door at Kaiba standing with his arms crossed, his expression pinched.
Jounouchi scrambles out of the car, yawing and wincing because of his split lip. Kaiba looks at him from foyer of his big mansion, lips still curled in distaste. He looks exasperated, like he might start tapping his foot any moment now. It’s kinda cute, though Jounouchi would rather go through another beating before admitting that. Kaiba turns around and walks into his mansion, and Jounouchi figures its best to just follow his gracious host before he changes his mind and throws Jounouchi’s ass back on the sidewalk.
Kaiba’s mansion is luxurious, but of course it is. The expensive furniture, the over-the-top art. Kaiba is rich rich, and the blatant luxury makes Jounouchi feel very out of place and inadequate. He tries not to let it bother him, walks the same steps that Kaiba did and tries to no get distracted by the sheer richness of this place.
Kaiba leads them to his bedroom, to Jounouchi’s surprise. He tries to not let it show on his face, but when Kaiba turns and glares at him, he can’t help the little smirk that appears on his face.
Kaiba likes to glare a lot, and Jounouchi can admit his glare is usually on point, making people twice his size cower in fear that Kaiba might ruin their life. Of course, it also helps that Kaiba is usually flanked by bodyguards thrice his size who get paid to shake down the people who aren’t intimated by his glare.
So yeah, is pretty effective, and the only reason Jounouchi doesn’t consider himself as part of that group his because he has something no one else has.
Kaiba’s first kiss.
Now, Kaiba’s hasn’t actually said anything about that, but the way he acted was pretty telling. Jounouchi remembers his surprised little gasp when he pressed him against one of the gym walls, the way he melted like butter when Jounouchi licked his lower lip, asking him to let him in. The way he moaned the moment Jounouchi shoved a thigh between his legs.
It's hard to find him intimidating after that, even so after the disastrous spin the bottle game.
Sure, Kaiba is prickly, Jounouchi’s knows that better than anyone else. He doesn’t mince words, and he’s definitely not Jounouchi’s friend, he made that clear.
Then why is Jounouchi here?
“Sit,” Kaiba says, appearing in front of him. Jounouchi takes a few steps back, bumps against the edge of Kaiba’s bed and presses his mouth flat. He figures Kaiba would hang him if he sits on his bed after slumping on a sidewalk, so Jounouchi sinks to the floor and leans against Kaiba’s bed.
Kaiba raises an eyebrow, then sinks on one, and then two knees in front of Jounouchi.
Jounouchi has to bite his tongue, curl his fists and a swallow his groan at his knuckles smarting. Kaiba’s is a fucking sight, with his perfect blue button down and fitted pants stretching across his thighs, tailored form head to toe. The pinched expression is gone from his face, replaced by a frown and pursed lips. His eyes are fixed on some point on Jounouchi’s face, and it’s making his frown more pronounced, face scrunching like he tasted something sour.
“You look like shit,” he says again, softer this time. It sounds a bit less like you look like shit and more are you okay? Maybe Jounouchi is hallucinating. “Why do you look like shit?”
Jounouchi lets out a heavy sigh, slumping completely against the soft bedding. “Isn’t obvious? I got my ass kicked.”
Kaiba opens the little bag he had in his hand, pulls out cotton and antiseptic and gestures for Jounouchi to lean forward. “I can see that, idiot,” he presses the cotton against Jounouchi’s eyebrow, harder than he needs too, which was probably his goal seeing the little smirk he puts on when Jounouchi hisses. “I’m asking you why.”
Jounouchi parts his mouth, licks the wound on his lip and grimaces at the sting. Kaiba’s eyes flicker down for a second, then he’s looking at Jounouchi again, the slightest pink across his cheeks along with a frown.
Jounouchi chuckles a bit, then sags completely, like he’s deflated. He doesn’t need to lie to Kaiba about this, Kaiba knows what he does every Friday after all. But still having to admit it it’s like pulling teeth.
“I figured it they’d leave me alone quicker if I didn’t fight back,” he says, voice rough ringing loud in Kaiba’s room. “I didn’t want to be late, or have to deal with the fallout if I did fight back.”
“And then what?” Kaiba tosses the dirty cotton away, gets on bandaging Jounouchi’s eyebrow and applying ointment to the bruising on his eyes. “Were you just gonna lay there and wait for the janitor to pick you up in the morning?”
Jounouchi actually didn’t have fucking idea of what he was gonna do. He laughs despite himself, pressing his mouth shut when Kaiba sends another of his glares in his way.
“Aw, were you worried about me? That’s why you picked me up? I thought you said we weren’t friends.”
“And we aren’t,” Kaiba cleans his hands on a towel, then grabs his chin and pulls him closer, already raising his other hand to press more cotton with antiseptic to his lip. “This is basic human decency.”
Jounouchi’s lip twitches, but he keeps quiet while Kaiba cleans the cut on his lip. He’s tired, body sore and aching, but that’s not the only reason he feels drained. He hates that this is his life, that this beating isn’t even out of the fucking ordinary, the only difference is that it happened on the day he cleans up his act and he tries to be more than teenage delinquent Jounouchi Katsuya.
Of course, it doesn’t fucking ever work. And it’s frustrating that he can’t seem to find a way out of it. Sure, he can go find the guys who beat him up and make them pay double. But that wouldn’t make it stop. He still has to deal with his dad.
He can feel Kaiba applying the ointment on his lip, his finger soft. Jounouchi can’t really see him right now, his eyes are a little blurry; but he can tell when he stops, a different frown taking over his features.
“Jounouchi,” there’s a shift in Kaiba’s voice, something Jounouchi has never heard, except from when he talks to his brother. He sounds soft, almost tender. Jounouchi blinks at him, and realizes the reason why with a hot flush of embarrassment. “You’re crying.”
Now that Kaiba mentioned it, he can tell the reason why his eyes were so blurry. He starts blinking, unshed tears falling down his cheeks and making him hyper aware of the ones already drying there.
Jesus. Fuck. Jounouchi closes his eyes, hard, and winces when the pain from his bruises comes along with more tears. Fuck, it’s like he’s a fucking waterfall now that he knows he’s crying. It’s ridiculous, he’s not even sobbing, for fuck’s sake.
“Shit,” Jounouchi says, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes only to be stopped by a smack.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself, idiot,” Kaiba grabs his wrist, mindful of his bloody knuckles. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re actually a crybaby.”
He doesn’t look like he’s mocking, now that Jounouchi can see him clearly. He’s got a placid, impassive expression on, but Jounouchi can tell is not his bitch resting face.
No. They’re on that rare ten percent, when Kaiba’s eyes are open and inviting, when his expression matches the curve of his mouth and looks just as kissable as his lips.
So, of course Jounouchi leans forward and kisses him.
Kaiba still has his wrist in his hand when Jounouchi kisses him, and his grip tightens just a bit, his whole body going tense for a second before Jounouchi swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and then Kaiba just melts. Jounouchi gets closer, one hand making his way to Kaiba’s neck to tilt his head better, the other supporting his weight against the cushy carpet. Jounouchi presses his fingers a bit against Kaiba’s neck, and it earns him a soft gasp and the part of his mouth to let his tongue in.
Jounouchi lied, when said he kissed Kaiba only because he wanted to see the way he’d react. That had been part of the truth, but the whole thing is that he had been thinking about kissing him for quite some time.
No-one pisses him off like Kaiba, he sneers at him, calls him a dog, mocks him in front of anyone Jounouchi is trying to impress. But it’s really hard to hate someone when the only thing on your mind when they’re sneering at you it’s how fucking pretty they look doing that.
So is safe to say, it’s extremely hard to hate Seto Kaiba.
Jounouchi doesn’t really know how they end up horizontal, seems like at some point he pushed Kaiba onto his back and he went along with it. Either way, he’s not gonna to protest. They keep kissing, Jounouchi sucking on his bottom lip —Kaiba loves that— while he hand moves to squeeze his waist and then down to his thigh, groping until he gets to the bend of his knee. Kaiba has really nice legs, Jounouchi would be stupid not to notice, and the thought that he has those legs spread around him right now makes him groan against Kaiba’s mouth.
He lifts his leg, hooks it around his hips and grinds down on Kaiba, and what do you know? He’s as hard as Jounouchi.
Just like the first time they did this, he moans that the feel of his dick dragging against Jounouchi’s, but Jounouchi doesn’t let him get away this time. He swallows the moan, and does it again, gripping his leg harder and moving his hips against him.
It’s criminal how good it feels, how good Kaiba tastes, how pretty he sounds. Jounouchi braces his forearm against the carpet, no longer kissing him, but just panting against his mouth, Kaiba’s lips swollen and wet, hair messy and his eyes blown to hell and back. His moans are low, little hitches of his breath and the occasional whine when Jounouchi grinds too hard.
Jounouchi can see it on his face, the fact that he’s close and he’s overwhelmed because of it. Jounouchi kisses him messily on his bottom lip, and because he’s greedy, he also pulls on it with his teeth before pushing himself away and flopping on the carpet next him.
Kaiba’s breaths are heavy, just like his, and even though he’s tense —having an orgasm cut off is no joke— there’s a lightness about him, like a weight was lifted of him. Jounouchi sighs, trying to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump on Kaiba again, and turns to look at him.
Kaiba’s is already staring, pupils blown out and lips parted and inviting. He presses them together, like he wants to say something but it just won’t come out. Jounouchi wants to kiss him, and he does, just a small peck before Kaiba apologizes for something is not his fault,
“I’m sorry,” Jounouchi says in a rush. He hopes Kaiba can tell he means it about the other day outside of the school too. Kaiba’s eyes soften, still glassy but aware. “You just… make me so fucking horny.”
Kaiba blushes, full face blotchy red and embarrassed and Jounouchi laughs, feeling light and easy for the first time in hours. Kaiba pushes him away by pressing a hand against his face, and Jounouchi has to hold back the urge to lick his palm just to see his little insulted frown.
He gets up, runs his eyes over Jounouchi still sprawled on the carpet and quickly returns his stare back to his face when he catches sight of the bulge still trapped inside Jounouchi’s unform pants.
“Pig,” Kaiba mutters and Jounouchi smirks. Turns into a full-bodied smile when Kaiba sighs and says, “You can stay the night, I guess. Isono will drive you to your sister’s tomorrow.”
Kaiba doesn’t pick up the first aid kit from the floor, just gives Jounouchi one last look before walking away out of his room and close the door with a soft click.
Jounouchi sighs, rests a hand on his stomach and stares at the ceiling. Only the wound on his lip is hurting now, though Jounouchi guesses he can get used to it pretty quickly.