Archive of Our Own

The kid wants to be in control today. 

Jounouchi can tell from the way he saunters into his apartment, shiny shoes clicking on the fucked up wood floors. He’s wearing his school uniform, the way he does when he wants to make Jounouchi feel bad for wanting to bend him over the nearest surface, which means that he wants power, which means that he wants to be in control.

The kid also hates to be called the kid. But jokes on him, because what the fuck else is Jounouchi going to call him when he shows up in his apartment in his high school uniform looking for all the world like he wants to fight before he’s fucked in that thing?

“Rough day?” Jounouchi asks, beer can perched between his shoulder and his hand, arm curled along the back of his sofa. The kid—Seto, because he hates being called by his first name even more than he does kid—comes to a clicking stop in front of Jounouchi’s TV with his nose raised.

“What do you care?” he scoffs.

Jounouchi hums. He doesn’t, really.

Maybe he should, considering Seto wants to make him feel bad, and maybe Jounouchi should, at his age, old enough to be his father and still more interested in the way all his pretty little lines fit in that buttoned up navy jacket. Not that his figure is doing much for him, anyway—Seto is boyishly flat and thin hipped and long, and the only use Jounouchi gets out of it more often than not is that it’s easy to wrap his hands around that tiny waist and bounce him on his cock like he’s trying to break him. He usually is. Seto wants him to, even if he’s too stuck up to say it outright.

“Listen,” Jounouchi sighs, because Seto is still standing in front of his TV and he was watching that baseball game, thank you very much. “I’ve told you a million times. Your tantrums don’t work with me.” He nods his head at the tiny kitchenette tucked into the corner of his cheap apartment. “Either go get me another beer or come wrap your mouth around my dick. I know you’re either here to annoy me or fuck me, but you could be a little useful beforehand.”

“I could be here to annoy you and fuck you,” Seto says haughtily.

Jounouchi takes another swig of his beer. Tastes like piss, but it’s what he can afford. “Sure, sweetheart. Drink, please.”

Seto rolls his eyes, but crosses around the couch and heads for the kitchen, and Jounouchi isn’t ashamed at all of the way he watches Seto’s ass when he turns around. Not much to watch, but the kid’s got one of those adorably grippable booties, pert and peach-like and pale. Bruises like a fucking dream. Jounouchi’s teeth and the flat of his palm itch just looking at it.

He leans his head against the back of the couch to keep watching as Seto steps into the kitchen with a noticeable sneer, disgusted as usual with Jounouchi’s living conditions. He doesn’t care, just ‘cause the kid is bending over to get a beer out of Jounouchi’s fridge and fuck his legs are so goddamn long, tiny waist, hair falling into his eyes. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Jounouchi says, and Seto glances over his shoulder to look at him with a frown. Fucking adorable on him.

“What do you want, mutt?”

“Easy. Why don’t you grab one for you too, yeah? Might take the edge off.”

Seto drops from his perfect bend into a squat and the motion just reminds Jounouchi of what he looks like riding cock when he’s too lazy to put in the effort to fuck all the mean little words out of his baby’s mouth. He has to reach a hand down and adjust his dick in his sweatpants at the thought, the sense memory of Seto’s pale thighs bruising under his fingers.

“You do realize it’s legal if you fuck me, but not if you’re giving me alcohol, right, idiot?”

Jounouchi hums. “Is that a no?”

“It is not,” Seto says, and turns back to the fridge. He comes back with two cans of beer, cracks one open, and curls up in the seat next to Jounouchi, knees pulled under him, and Jounouchi throws his arm around his shoulders like the cheap date he’s too young to know he is. 

—

It takes two beers for Seto to crawl sideways into his lap, and Jounouchi is halfway into his fourth drink of the night before Seto starts kissing him, lips moving against his jaw, over his throat, along his cheek. 

The kid paws at him like Jounouchi is something passive that belongs to him, another one of his rich boy toys he can use like a plaything and make a mess out of when he feels like getting his ass pounded. Jounouchi thinks he might’ve been a virgin before they’d met, but Jounouchi had also dragged him out of the bar he works at and fucked him in a back alley, so it’s not like it matters.

It did matter, though, when Seto had broken into his apartment the next day in his school uniform, and Jounouchi had known the kid was young, sure, but he didn’t know he was still in high school. He’d almost had a heart attack before Seto had clarified, I’m eighteen, with an eye roll, and then Jounouchi had promptly made him late for school by shoving his tongue into his ass and then fucking his spit back into Seto’s shaking, bow-taught body. 

He should probably stop Seto every time they do this, probably pry his long fingers off of Jounouchi’s bicep and keep his hand from sliding between Seto’s thighs and squeezing his already hard dick—fucking teenagers, man—but he never claimed to be good, and Seto doesn’t need him to be, and his mouth tastes like beer and breath mints when Jounouchi finally licks into his mouth.

Yeah, probably was a virgin, Jounouchi thinks, groping Seto’s thighs and cock while he fucks his tongue into the kid’s mouth. Seto shakes a little bit like he always does when he gets turned on—like a fucking chihuahua in heat—and moans when Jounouchi shoves his thighs apart and cups his whole hand over his tenting dick. He gives a too tight squeeze while Seto busies himself sucking on Jounouchi’s bottom lip, roughly handling those prissy little balls until his eyes are glassy. Kid always thinks he can take it when Jounouchi gets rough, like being six feet tall doesn’t keep him from being brittle as thin candy. Jounouchi physically shoves his thighs open when they clamp shut, and it’s still not enough to send Seto running for the hills.

Instead, he moans, “Ah,” in this high whorish voice and throws his arms around Jounouchi’s neck. He’s squirming, honest to god, and Jounouchi bites his jaw when Seto hides his face in his throat, back arching, hips thrusting up into Jounouchi’s hand. It’s clumsy and juvenile and ridiculous and far from anything resembling Seto’s typical forced control. Must be the alcohol making Seto a little drunk and horny and desperate, and Jounouchi pulls back from assaulting Seto’s skin with his teeth to push the kid away when he leans in for another kiss.

“What?” Seto pants, close enough for his breath to fan across Jounouchi’s mouth, still a little minty sweet.

Jounouchi squeezes Seto’s cock hard with one hand, and he may be a touch shorter than Seto, maybe a few centimeters at best, but it doesn’t matter when he’s still so much bigger everywhere else. Seto cries out, obviously in pain, but Jounouchi doesn’t let up, obsessed with the way his pretty little face twists in agony.

“I’m tired of making out,” Jounouchi says, and wraps an arm around Seto’s waist, half-stands and turns and deposits him in the spot he just vacated from the couch. Seto glares up at him, eyes a little dewy like maybe Jounouchi did handle him a little too rough, oops. Still, he’s only got a half-hard dick and a wet mouth, and his latest beer is running low. “I’m getting another one.”

Seto pushes up onto his knees. “You think you can just ignore me?”

“Pretty much,” Jounouchi grunts, rolling the tension out of his neck when he turns. “Just be patient, princess. I can fuck you after I’m drunk enough to make the room spin. ‘S not like you’re too hard to handle.”

He’s getting under Seto’s skin. He knows he is. If Seto Kaiba—rich-boy Kaiba, big-family-name Kaiba, means-something Kaiba—hates anything, it is being patronized to. Or he pretends to, at least. But if Seto wanted someone to kiss his shoes and moan his name and follow every one of his whims, he’d go fuck someone his own age. Or someone young enough to give a damn, at least. But he crawls into Katsuya no-name Jounouchi’s apartment with his hard dick in his school uniform, so Jounouchi knows the little shit has a masochistic streak a mile long. The pretty rich boys always do.

So Jounouchi isn’t surprised that Seto follows him into the kitchen, complaining noisily about where Seto could be right now, on private jets and rooftop parties and snorting coke with supermodels, and Jounouchi pops the can of his new beer with a smirk when he turns and finds Seto leaning against one of his kitchen counters with a scowl.

“Sure, you could be anywhere you wanted,” Jounouchi says. He takes a slow sip of his beer and leers, looking at Seto's crossed arms and trembling legs—god, the fucking legs on this kid, and the way he never stops shivering—and the clear tent of his prissy little cock in his uniform pants. Jounouchi meets his eye with a grin. “But you’re not, are you, princess? You’re right here with me. Panting for your favorite washed up old fuck. Bumming out in my apartment because I keep you drunk and horny and angry. Favorite three things in the world, right?”

Seto scoffs. He glances to the side. “Like I care what you think. If you’re not going to fuck me, I’m going home.”

“Hey now,” Jounouchi purrs, and sets his beer—half gone already, tried and true chugging method picked up from his pops—to the side. “I didn’t say that. Did I say that, baby?” Seto stares defiantly silent off to the side. “No, come on, princess. You’re standing there desperate for it, I can tell. Pussy’s probably dripping just thinking about it. You’re not going anywhere until you can’t cum anymore, isn’t that what I always promise?”

“I hate when you talk to me like that,” Seto says testily.

He means it, this time. Seto hates being treated like a girl, like some whore Jounouchi is getting a quick fuck out of. But Jounouchi loves spreading those milky thighs open and spitting on his twitching hole and purring about his pussy even though he hasn’t had any interest in fucking women since Seto walked all that glowering teenage anger through his door and bent over for him. Hasn’t been interested in fucking anyone, really, and maybe he should think that through some more, but Seto is angry and horny and pretty in front of him and Jounouchi wants to play.

So Jounouchi says, “No you don’t,” and Seto says, “As if you’d know,” and it's their very grown up game of nuh-uh, yuh-huh, except Seto isn’t very grown up, is he? 

Well, neither is Jounouchi. And he likes this game.

“Baby,” Jounouchi says, and Seto's weight shifts, like he’s got it bad. “Honey, baby. Sweetheart. Princess.” 

Seto turns and looks at him, and he’s playing for defiant and failing because the look that he shoots Jounouchi is so turned on he may as well have a blinking marquee over his head that says humiliate me, daddy. All pretty blue eyes and long lashes and pink lips and Jounouchi opens his arms with a “C’mere,” that has Seto sighing, put upon, before he steps across the kitchen to stand perfectly still in front of Jounouchi. 

“You know I love you,” Jounouchi says, the line he used to use on girls when he was Seto's age. 

“No, you don’t.”

Nuh-uh, yuh-huh.

Jounouchi wraps his arms around Seto and leans his weight back against a counter top, settles the kid between his legs with a grin. Like this, he’s at just the right height to nose along Seto's pale throat, tease all that warm skin with his tongue. “No, I don’t,” he agrees for once. “But I love fuckin’ you. Spreading you out and loosening up that tight little ass.” He kisses his way around Seto's slim neck. Damn that fucking collar, because Jounouchi would sink his teeth into Seto's collarbone right about now, but he can’t fucking reach it. “I love your tits. Love your legs. Love the way you pout and cry when you don’t get what you want.”

“Stop treating me like a child,” Seto murmurs, but it's a little too breathy, a little too turned on, and he fists his hands in Jounouchi’s shirt and curls his fingers tight. 

Jounouchi grins and rubs the stubble along his jaw against Seto's skin. He always goes delightfully pink under the burn. “You’re imagining it though, aren’t you? Probably have been since you got in here. Stripping naked for me and letting me ruin that tight fuckin’ body. And you love that, don’t you, babydoll?”

“I like when you stop talking so much,” Seto says. 

Jounouchi hums. He wraps an arm around Seto's waist and stands up straight, meets Seto's eye with a grin. “Sure, baby.”

Seto glares at him for a long, drawn out moment, and Jounouchi can’t help the way his face twists into an amused grin. Kid is probably thinking about his hard dick and the fact that he still wants Jounouchi around him, inside of him, plowing him six ways to Sunday even though he can’t fucking stand him. May not be able to stand him, yeah, but for all his claims about being a genius, the kid sure is ruled by his dick—

There’s a sharp slap, and Jounouchi’s head turns to the side, and it takes a moment of wondering who the fuck just got hit before the handprint on his cheeks starts to sting.

Jounouchi is silent, and Seto is silent, and Jounouchi’s sink drips into the basin behind him, quiet noise into the sudden silence. Seto always complains about how Jounouchi never shuts up, and Jounouchi’s friends used to complain about the same thing, and it’s an instinct that always comes out now when there’s a pretty face to run his mouth around. But the hand attached to the body attached to the pretty face just slapped him and Jounouchi’s bark of laughter is sudden and riotous and loud. He’s fucking cackling, losing his shit, dragging Seto straight into his chest and he’s fucking hysterical because his baby just slapped him.

“Holy fuck,” Jounouchi breathes into his face, presses his nose against Seto's, can’t help the way his words cut in and out of his laughter. “Holy shit. You’re a fucking brat. You just slapped me.”

“You deserve it,” Seto says evenly, not a hint of remorse in his voice, and Jounouchi kisses him, kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

“You make me so fucking hard,” Jounouchi breathes into his mouth, in between long, dirty kisses, because every time his cheek throbs with pain his dick gives back just as good like they’re on a goddamn feedback loop. Seto is a huge masochist, sure, but he’s just as much of a sadist, and Jounouchi can tell from the seeking curl of his tongue and the fingers he slides into his hair that it’s turning him on just as much to hurt Jounouchi as it does to let Jounouchi hurt him.

Their kiss is messy, uncoordinated, too wet because Seto is fucking abysmal at kissing but he’s enthusiastic about it. Jounouchi can pick up the slack, roving hands groping at Seto’s waist and back and hips and thighs and ass, spit mixing between them as Jounouchi sucks the flick of his pink tongue into his mouth. He can’t help the barest flirt of his teeth, the sweetest of bites, and Seto can’t control his low moan either. It’s kiddie shit, making out with Seto, but Jounouchi figures there are worse things he could be doing with his time.

Especially when Seto gets all weak kneed at Jounouchi’s hands squeezing bruises into his waist. Jounouchi grins, wolfish, and Seto sways on his feet and makes this noise, soft and mumbled and so damn pleased with himself, and Jounouchi rolls them around to press Seto against the counter instead, shoves a thigh between Seto's legs to keep him up and pulls Seto's bottom lip away from his teeth with a growl.

“You like that?” Jounouchi asks and gives his thigh a little flex, grinds right up against Seto's dick. “You wanna ride my thigh, baby?”

“Rather die,” Seto says, but his hips squirm down, bulge of his cock dragging along Jounouchi’s thigh and then up against his cock, and he makes all those pretty little turned on teenage boy noises that make Jounouchi feel like a dirty old man.

“So pretty,” Jounouchi murmurs. “You’ve got it, princess. Aren’t you such a good girl for me. Just like that, baby, yeah.”

“Do you ever,” Seto gasps, and grabs the back of Jounouchi’s neck to snarl in his face. “Shut the fuck up?”

“For you?” Jounouchi laughs. He kisses the corner of Seto's mouth and thin licks a wet, messy line up his cheek. “Never ever.”

He’s goading a fight out of the kid again, a kindergarten boy pulling on pigtails. It doesn’t earn him more than a growl and Seto’s mouth fixing his mouth against his instead, the material of Jounouchi’s jeans rubbing loud against Seto’s uniform pants. There’s something fucked up and erotic about it, busy noise, the kind of sound you hear in club bathrooms with two sets of feet in one stall. Sounds that makes Jounouchi think sex regardless of what is happening, even if Seto wasn’t letting out little whines against the corner of his mouth, rolling his hips, following that selfish, pretty boy rhythm against his thigh. 

Jounouchi chuckles into their kiss, and then lets the rabbit quick thrusts of Seto’s hips work him right up to his own peak. He can hear it in Seto’s voice, the way he stops kissing and settles instead for panting open mouthed against Jounouchi’s lips and stuttering through every other breath.

“For fuck’s sake—” Seto gasps, and his arms wrap around Jounouchi’s neck and his head tips back, stretches his lovely, slender throat long. “Shit—”

“Gonna make yourself cum like that, baby?” Jounouchi asks. 

He gets a gasp, a “Fuck yes,” and Seto’s fingers settling on the sides of his throat, his eyes rolling back. 

“Messy fucking brat,” Jounouchi growls, Seto’s nails dig into his shoulders, slide down to his shoulder blades, his legs fighting hard to close around Jounouchi’s thigh. Poor kid is so skinny he can barely manage it, little thing, and Jounouchi pins a hand against the small of his back to hold him through it as Seto cums in his pants. His pretty, kiss swollen mouth shakes on each his ragged gasps, all his muscles going tight and shaky before he starts to come down in twitchy aftershocks. 

The first time Jounouchi watched Seto cum, he’d laughed at him for it. Purred you cum like a girl against the back of Seto’s ear and hadn’t gotten a response entirely because he’d just fucked his first orgasm out of the kid, and they were technically in public, back alley and all that. Jounouchi had pinned Seto’s wrists over his head and used him like a fleshlight afterwards, sneered, you give it up that easy for everyone, princess? And he’d known a part of him would always be stuck to the flushed red shell of Kaiba’s ears and his embarrassed whining.

Though, he’d also hoped a bit of over exposure might have helped with the habit. If the way his dick throbs as Seto catches himself against the countertop means anything, he’d say the treatment isn’t exactly taking.

He gives Seto a moment, long enough for Jounouchi to adjust his dick in his jeans, long print trailing down his thigh, before he gets impatient. “All done?” Jounouchi mocks, and his voice comes out hard and mean, too turned on to slant anyway but rough. “Tapping out on me, sweetheart? Think you can play me like that? Fucking hit me and cum and get away with it afterwards?”

“Pretty much,” Seto pants. His eyes snap to Jounouchi’s in challenge. He gets a grin in response that’s all teeth.

“Sure. Let’s test your theory.”

Jounouchi fists a hand in the collar of Seto's shirt and drags him up to his feet, leads him into the living room and then shoves him back onto Jounouchi’s couch. Seto goes spilling into the seat with a huff, and Jounouchi pops the button on his jeans, strokes a hand over the throbbing base of his cock. Seto watches him openly.

“Take your clothes off,” Jounouchi says.

It’s one of those commands where he knows he’s got Seto beat, just because disobeying looks like he’s shy about his body, and obeying him makes him look like a bitch, so Seto always loses and Jounouchi always wins. He either listens and gets to dress again afterwards, or Jounouchi will rip the uniform off of him and leave him to walk home half naked.

Still, Seto fights it for just a moment. He also doesn’t take his eyes away from Jounouchi’s dick, vision fixed like a predator on the hunt with a good meal. That’s also the little game he’s got to play with himself—obey and get what he wants or disobey and risk Jounouchi kicking him out without fucking him stupid.

Still, he can’t just listen perfectly, can he? Seto strips like he’s got all the time in the world, legs spread, defiantly undoing the buttons on his jacket, and then the crisp button up. He shrugs both off of his shoulders and then throws them onto Jounouchi’s floor, goes for his pants, strips out of those too. He keeps his eyes on Jounouchi as he strokes the length of his cock, working himself up to a steady rhythm now. Watching Seto strip is better than most porn frankly, and Jounouchi isn’t resentful of the view, even if it is lasting an awful long time.

Seto folds in half to slide his pants down his mile long legs and then sits, unmarked and perfect and pretty on Jounouchi’s couch with his chin raised, naked as the day he was born. Jounouchi thumbs at the wet head of his cock.

“Aren’t you prettier than a picture.”

“Take one, it’ll last longer,” Seto says loosely, and Jounouchi stands, draws his cock out of his pants but doesn’t take them off at all. Leaves him standing over Seto with his dick out, and he lets Seto stare up at his face like he’s not gagging for his cock instead.

“Don’t tempt me,” Jounouchi says, giving his dick a few more long, luxurious tugs. “Know how much money I could make off a picture of you aching for dick?”

“Ready to get to it then, geezer?”

Jounouchi gives him a grin. “Nope.”

Seto isn’t ready for Jounouchi’s hand to go out, fist in his long bangs and then pull, throwing Seto over the arm of his couch. Seto sputters, clearly caught off guard, but Jounouchi’s got him exactly where he wants him, shoulders up on the arm, head hanging off. He keeps the hand in Seto's hair when he circles around the couch to stand over him, cock bobbing in front of him. Seto glares up at him with heat in his eyes. 

“I’m thinking,” Jounouchi says, and wraps his hand around his cock to angle it down, just over Seto’s face, right between his eyes. He looks like an AV star, christ. “Most adults, they gotta discipline the kiddies in their life by washin’ their mouths out, yeah? But I ain’t got any soap on hand so….” he angles his cock down and taps it, sticky and heavy against Seto's cheek. “Figured my dick’ll do.”

Seto’s lack of response is supposed to be indignant, angry and defiant. Instead, spread out naked along Jounouchi’s couch, cock in his face and practically drooling, he couldn’t look more desperate for it if he was begging. Jounouchi pokes Seto’s cheek with the head of his cock again, just to watch it squish, baby fat sticky and wet with precum.

As if Seto ever needs to remind him what a dirty old man he is when this is how things always end up. Poor kid loves being treated like a little fuck toy, though, and Jounouchi is too happy to provide. He pulls his hips back just to urge Seto's head properly upside down, thumbs between Seto’s lips until his lips drops open obediently. “Good,” Jounouchi purrs. Seto's tongue flexes where it hangs out of his mouth. “We’ll have you trained up like a proper slut in no time.”

Jounouchi guides the head of his cock between Seto’s lips, and it’s just as good as he remembers, all that wet, perfect heat. Seto sucks dick like a champ, but that’s mostly just because if you’re mean enough to him about it, he sits there and takes it with a nasty look in his eye while you abuse the back of his throat. Jounouchi fucks the head of his cock in and out of his mouth a few times, grinning, groaning, “Yeahhh, baby.” Kid always needs a warm up before he can take the whole thing like that, and Jounouchi shushes and coos him as he settles for jerking himself off with the head of his cock spilling precum between Seto’s lips for the time being.

Gets boring like that fast, though, and it doesn’t take long before Jounouchi purrs, “Ready, princess?” and starts to slide inside. The push stretches Seto’s lips wider around his cock, pins Seto’s tongue to the bottom of his mouth, gives way to a nice smooth surface. It also cuts off more and more of Seto’s air as Jounouchi moves until he’s raising up off the couch, hips arching and cock bobbing obscenely. He’s bent at a kind of awkward angle, back arched and one leg splayed long over the couch, the other haphazardly thrown off the side, and Jounouchi purrs as Seto seems to realize the new strain the position puts on his poor throat.

He does look fucking adorable like that though, neglected cock dripping against his belly, chest pushed up so Jounouchi can see the peaks of his pretty brown nipples. What a dream this kid is.

When Jounouchi pulls out, Seto lets out a ragged little gasp, and Jounouchi presses his hand sideways to his throat to pet all the sharp bone and silky tendons there. “Kinda hard to breathe like this, isn’t it, princess?”

“Fuck you,” Seto gasps, his voice a messy, wet rasp. When he speaks, translucent spit stretches between his lips, tongue gleaming, and Jounouchi is going to break him in half if they’re lucky.

“Tap out if you need’a,” Jounouchi says, and pushes back inside, and goes so slow he can watch Seto's muscles all go tight in anticipation. Kid’s red all the way down his chest in these adorable blotches, like being this turned on is giving him hives. “No promise I’ll listen but, y’know.”

Jounouchi uses his hips to push his cock deep, deep in Seto's throat, and he doesn’t arch up this time, but Jounouchi can see him start to tremble again, even as his cock starts to leak like a broken faucet. 

But more than that is the way Seto's slim little throat starts to bulge out when Jounouchi slides deep enough for the head of his cock to push into his throat. It’s a fucking beautiful thing, the skin raised in the perfect shape of his cock, and Jounouchi slides his hand further and further down Seto's throat as he moves his cock deeper, fucking enraptured. He can cup his hand around Seto’s throat and slide his thumb along the clear indent of his cock in Seto’s skin, and it’s sinful and makes Jounouchi’s breath leave him in a short gasp. It earns him a sharp ghk of a noise and Seto’s toes curling, and Jounouchi sucks on his teeth as his eyebrows press in.

“Feel that?” Jounouchi asks, holding there for a moment, letting Seto’s fluttering throat cling to him with a wet gurgle. “Fuck,” Jounouchi sighs, and can’t pry his eyes away for even a moment. “I could jerk myself off using your throat, Seto.”

It earns him a low moan, Seto’s feet scrambling momentarily at the couch, trying to push himself closer, get deeper. Jounouchi lets out a noise, deliriously horny at the wet noises of Seto’s throat working around him. He’s got a little mole right at the base of his throat that Jounouchi aims for like a bullseye. 

“S-Shit,” Jounouchi spits, and starts pushing deeper, the bulge in Seto’s skin deepening, his hands coming up to grip and push and pull at Jounouchi’s hips. “You’re never gonna fuck somebody else that can fill you up the way I do, princess.”

Seto makes a noise, wet and kind of ugly, and Jounouchi pulls out just a hair shy of the base of his cock, so, so close to that little mark. When he comes out, though, his cock is all covered in a thick mess of spit, and Seto gasps like he’s coming up from water, a hand flying to his throat. He’s panting, ragged, but seems no worse for wear, and Jounouchi rubs his hand over his dick while he waits for him to catch his breath.

“You’re alright,” Jounouchi purrs, watching an upside down Seto try and fail to make a noise that isn’t a low whine or a wet swallow. He shoots Jounouchi a glare that’s a little hard to take serious, lips swollen and drooling, rubs the wet sticky skin of his cock over his forehead and mouth this time. Seto has to close one of his eyes to avoid the mess sliding down into his lashes, and Jounouchi gives a low chuckle.

“Nothing to say, pretty boy? No genius insults this time around? I’ll give you the opening for it.”

“Go to hell,” Seto manages around the scratch of his breath, and Jounouchi gives a startled laugh. 

“You sound like shit. Poor baby. You need a break, huh? Cock’s too good to tap out, but it would just be mean if I didn’t let you catch your breath.” 

Seto's one open eye squints distrustingly, and Jounouchi thinks he’s probably right to be wary. Jounouchi leans over his cock and spits fat and wet onto the mess already shiny on his skin, rubs it into his shaft and up to the head of his cock with a grin. Between his thighs, Seto's cock twitches so hard it bobs up and then back onto his skin with a sticky splat.

“Here,” Jounouchi coos, and guides his dick back to Seto's mouth. “Why don’t you suck the spit off my cock, huh?”

Seto moans like its ripped out of him, thighs spreading like he can will Jounouchi to fuck him with the motion alone. It might work, other than the fact that Seto is reaching for him again, trying to pull him close, trying to get it in him now, and who is Jounouchi to deny such a sweet boy?

He presses his cock just deep enough to have Seto swallowing down their mingled spit and Jounouchi’s precum, and he doesn’t even have to give him instruction to get Seto suckling weakly at him, tongue traveling over the top his cock like he can taste Jounouchi on him.

“So fucking nasty,” Jounouchi snickers, like the sight alone isn’t threatening to make him cum immediately. “Did I excite you that much, sweetie? Huh? Bet they can see your little humiliation kink from space.”

Seto makes another one of those little noises that makes Jounouchi’s dick throb and he has to push sweaty hair out of his own face, so turned on his has no idea how he’s going to hang on long enough to keep from adding cum to the list of fluids he’s pumping down Seto’s throat. He’s just too perfect, too good for him, takes whatever he’s given and humps the air like a whore just because he gets to suck spit off of Jounouchi’s cock—

“Open,” Jounouchi gasps, pushing at Seto’s mouth to pull out. The endlessly tightening heat in the pit of his stomach is so close to coming undone that Jounouchi has to squeeze the base of his cock to stave his orgasm off. It doesn’t help that he doesn’t pull far enough away that Seto can’t tip his head a bit further back and lick slowly at the tip of his dick, cat with the cream type shit. He’s so fucking perfect.

“Touch yourself,” Jounouchi breathes, and Seto obeys immediately, hand flying to his own cock like he’d been avoiding it without express permission. Probably just didn’t want Jounouchi to know how badly he was getting off on this, like that wasn’t clear. 

“Fucking slut. Nasty bitch. Getting off from some sloppy throatfuck like a pussy. You got a g-spot in here, kid? Figures you’d take it in every hole like a girl.”

He gets a moan and Seto’s hand speeding up around his cock, his lips opening, eyes flicking up to Jounouchi’s. They’re hard and demanding, cock, now, and Jounouchi braces his hand sideways over Seto’s throat, ready to pound past it with ease. 

He wiggles to spread his legs a little wider, guides his cock back into Seto's mouth. And this time he pushes in and doesn’t stop, working Seto's throat open with one smooth, even roll. It buries him up to that little beauty mark on his throat and Jounouchi laughs, half moans, “Hi, freckle,” and lets angry heat set the selfish pace he fucks into Seto’s sopping throat.

It’s much, much worse to have someone thrusting in your throat at this angle than it is just sliding in and out, Jounouchi knows. It’s why he’s not surprised when Seto's hips start to squirm, and the hand near his cock disappears, fisting instead in Jounouchi’s couch, searching for a lifeline. He gurgles and gags and chokes, and Jounouchi fucks him through it, groaning through his teeth. God, Seto's throat feels like pussy does, and he can’t help folding over and putting his hands on Seto's chest, pinching around Seto's tiny nipples. He gets them between his thumbs and pulls, grinds his cock into the wet clutch of his throat, and holds it there. Buried all the way in, Seto’s face buried between his thigh, tongue flexing, and counts.

One, two, three—

A hand slaps against Jounouchi’s hip, and he pulls out quick with a gasp just as Seto sits up with a half-sob. He coughs, fat bubbles of spit working their way past his lips as he pushes himself upright, probably to keep from drowning on precum. He’s drooling so badly it’s starting to drip down to his chest, painting his skin slick and shiny and appealing. He’s slick across his collarbone, down to his nipples. He can’t stop himself from coughing and gasping like Jounouchi has destroyed his throat. Probably has. He looks like a mess.

“Good job,” Jounouchi coos, and hops the arm of the couch, lands just in time to pull Seto's face towards his and get a good look at him. He’s wet all over his face, even down to his eyelashes for real this time, fuck yes. “You’re such a good toy for me, kid, what a good fucking whore. Christ, you’re better than a pornstar.”

Seto swallows, once or twice, but his lips keep parting like he wants to say something, like there’s anything in his head other than cock and cum and spit. Like he possibly exists outside of being Jounouchi’s sweet little plaything. 

“What is it?” Jounouchi asks, grinning wide. “Too good to speak?”

Instead of a response, Jounouchi gets Seto’s hands winding in his shirt and the most delightful little whine, Seto’s wet lips parted for it, arching into Jounouchi, begging without being able to say anything at all. He lets out a whimper when Jounouchi fists a hand in his hair and drags him back until his back is arched and his eyes are turned up.

“You need my dick, is that what you’re trying to say? Punished you too much and now it’s time for you to get your little cunt stuffed full, yeah?”

He’s having too much fun. Having his way with Seto, doing anything and everything he can think to do to the poor kid. Jounouchi expects to be hit again, is fucking excited for it, loves fighting with Seto as much as he loves fucking him.

What he’s not expecting is for Seto to pull against the hold Jounouchi has in his hair just to surge forward and kiss him.

It doesn’t feel like any kiss they’ve shared before at all. He can barely taste himself on Seto’s tongue, which makes sense considering how deep he’d been shoved in his throat instead, but Seto kisses open mouthed and uncoordinated and moaning, clutching and pawing like he never, ever does.

It catches Jounouchi so off guard that he can’t kiss back for a moment, because his brain is still in ‘annoy Seto’ mode, but Seto isn’t being annoyed. He’s melting like putty into Jounouchi’s hands and clawing at his lap and covered in his spit. He’s a pretty little thing practically sobbing over his cock, and Jounouchi is so hard he’s surprised he hasn’t passed out with all his blood in his dick.

Shit. Maybe Jounouchi is more than ready to fuck Seto too.

He pulls away and Seto whines, but waits, panting, watching him. Jounouchi thumbs at some of the spit around his mouth. “Yeah, I been bullyin’ you too much, kid? You need your princess treatment? Stuff that pussy full?”

“Fuck me,” Seto moans. 

Jounouchi leans close enough to breathe Seto's air but doesn’t kiss him again. Part of him just wants to be pressed to him, all over him, and he brings a hand up to rub the spit against his chest around one of his nipples again, gives it another sharp pinch. “What do you want, huh? Wanna ride me? Set the pace so you can fuck yourself nice and slow.”

“No,” Seto growls. 

Jounouchi’s grin breaks across his face. “No? No, you want it too rough for that, don’t you. Know I can give it to you better than you could move.”

Another growl. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” Jounouchi agrees softly. He kisses Seto's bottom lip. “Yeah, you need Jounouchi to put you on your hands and knees and pound your pretty little ass. Is that it? Is that what you want?”

Another low, throaty groan. Seto is the one that leans in and kisses him this time. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jounouchi grabs Seto under the thigh and rolls him over, pulls him back onto his hands and knees, doggy style. Seto loves it, clearly, shoving back as he tries to get down on Jounouchi’s cock. Jounouchi presses in, back to chest, and noses along Seto's shoulder. “Shh, shh, I’m gonna take care of you, yeah? I’ve got to train up all of you, don’t I?”

Seto hates being told that he’s untrained, that he’s not ready, that Jounouchi is giving him anything easily. He hates it, but Jounouchi can feel him shivering underneath him, can feel how Seto tries to hump back against Jounouchi’s cock with his soft ass, riding the motion shamelessly. Otherwise, though, he doesn’t respond.

“Don’t you want it?” Jounouchi asks, and kisses the shell of Seto’s ear, noses in closer and licks the skin wet. “How am I supposed to open you up, sweetheart?” He taps a hand against Seto’s lips, and then shoves his open palm in front of Seto’s mouth. “Come on, it’s your turn. Spit for me.”

Another one of those things Seto usually hates during sex, the mess and the commands and the humiliation. He has to fight it to like it, Jounouchi knows, but Seto is more than obedient when he ducks his head and spits square into Jounouchi’s palm. It’s wet and disgusting, but Jounouchi never would have expected to do it in a million years. But this new, compliant Seto doesn’t even think before he does it, like he’s helpless to do anything but what Jounouchi asks of him.

And jesus, all that power goes to his head. Jounouchi is reeling just thinking about what Seto is going to let him get away with.

“Do it again,” Jounouchi says against his ear, and feels Seto waiting for a moment, gathering more spit on his tongue, taking a breath and then—

Right there again, straight in Jounouchi’s palm, Seto’s warm spit mixing with what’s already cooling in Jounouchi’s palm. It coats his skin, and Seto pushes back against him again, pants, “Alright? Now? Can we go now?”

When Jounouchi was a kid, he’d spent a brief stint as the kind of guy who was always breaking up fights, the pipsqueak getting between the little kids and the big guys picking on them. He was a ‘if you can’t pick on someone your own size, I’ll hit you hard enough to make you feel like you are’ kind of kid. He was the idiot stepping in between bullies and the weaklings. He was a hardass, but he was good, even if it didn’t last long.

At some point he turned mean and bitter and big, and realized that it was actually much, much easier to pick on the kind of kids who didn’t fight back. The ones with too much trust in their hearts. The kids who were nothing like Seto Kaiba.

But now, with Seto suddenly compliant and barely eighteen and shaking underneath him, the cruel little thing in Jounouchi rears its head hard, wants to sink its teeth into this little minx who will let Jounouchi do whatever he wants to him. He wants to rip him apart.

“You’re fucking nasty,” Jounouchi snaps, blood surging hot, and presses his hand—presses Seto's spit—across the bottom of his face, smears it all over his mouth. Seto makes a noise, confused and overwhelmed, and Jounouchi presses his mouth to his ear to whisper. “It’s almost like you don’t want me to open you up right. Is that it? You want me to fuck you open on my dick alone, huh?”

Seto's shivering kicks up a notch, and Jounouchi pulls back, watches his trembling form underneath him. Puts his hands on Seto's peachy little ass and spreads his cheeks apart, wraps a hand around his still slick cock and lines up with one slow stroke. Presses hard to the dip in Seto’s spine. Knows the kid can take it.

He presses the blunt head of his cock to Seto's hole and rubs it there for a moment, waiting for it to get wetter as his precum beads, smearing over Seto's hole.

“You know how to make me stop, don’t you, pretty boy?”

“Yes,” Seto gasps, barely above a breath. 

With anyone else, Jounouchi would start to lie again. Would moan, “Oh, baby, you know I love you, I love when you get like this for me,” but with Seto it feels wrong. He doesn’t want to lie. He wants to hurt Seto and then hurt him some more, and then at the end of it all he wants to take some pictures of his ruined face and sleep with them under his pillow at night. He wants to fuck Seto so hard every day he can’t walk straight and let Seto keep him collared and leashed so they get odd looks when Jounouchi pulls him into his lap in public. 

Shit, maybe he wouldn’t be lying. He does kind of love this.

He presses in slow, so slow, just a bit, just enough to watch Seto's rim stretch around his cock. Underneath him, Seto lets out a soft, punched out noise, and Jounouchi pets his hip, shushes him quietly. Nothing soft in it, just pure dismissal, his own pleasure making him selfish. Pulls out and then presses in a little more, waits, feels Seto clenching and fluttering around him. His back is pretty underneath him, the knobs in his spine in a nice neat line, Seto’s hair sticking to the sweat on the back of his neck.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Jounouchi coos, mocking tone firm and something just as sweet underneath. “Fucking look at you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Pushes in more, pulls out, over and over and over again. Feels like it takes seconds, feels like it takes fucking hours, but Jounouchi is obsessed with the way Seto swallows more and more of him without a single finger. Maybe it’s just how slow he’s going, or maybe Jounouchi really has just fucked him open so many goddamn times that Seto’s little ass stays soft for him. Makes sense. He is a good fucking girl.

“Oh, baby,” Jounouchi moans, and underneath him, Seto lets out a barely intelligible whimper and starts to shake again. “This is my pussy, isn’t it? All fucking mine.”

Seto doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t fight it either. No, he just pushes back, back and back and back, swallows down the rest of Jounouchi’s cock. Barely holds himself up and breathes hard and fucks back on Jounouchi’s cock with a series of breathy moans. Jounouchi is going to tie him up and keep him in his house after this, god fucking forbid anyone else ever gets their hands on this boy. 

Jounouchi sets a pace that punishes immediately. Fucks him hard and nasty and mean, pulls Seto back by the hips and makes him ride the rhythm whether he wants to or not. They’re not getting in a sentence edgewise between them, no teasing from Jounouchi, no cajoling from Seto. 

All Jounouchi can think about is Seto's cute ass wrapped around him and the way he moans on every single thrust, all gaspy and disoriented and sweet and Jounouchi wants to make him cum so hard he can’t think about anything other than warming Jounouchi’s bed ever again.

He fucks Seto harder and harder until his moans jump from soft gasps to grunts, straight to a rumbling groan, and Jounouchi leans forward to gather Seto's hair up in a tight knot at the base of his head. It’s barely long enough for it, but Jounouchi manages to get it in a solid lead, pulls Seto's back into an arch and uses it as a handhold to fuck up into him. 

“Jounouchi—” Seto moans, back arced tight, shoulder blades shifting, pretty pretty baby. “Good, good—” Seto gasps, his first set of words in forever, and Jounouchi tugs on his hair harder, feels the way the pain makes Seto tighten. “Oh mygod, oh god, f-fuckfuckfuck—”

Jounouchi grits his teeth. Fucks harder. Listens to his hips slap up against his ass and stops to grind deep. Seto's breath catches in a gasp, and he manages just over a breath, “Right there, right there—” and Jounouchi fucks short little hard thrusts right where Seto wants him, drilling into his sensitive prostate. Abuses it. Growls and plants a hand on Seto’s hip and shoves forward to huffs breath against the sensitive side of his throat. And Seto shudders, and goes tight and—

“Fuck, I’m coming—” Seto gasps, like it’s urgent, like he can’t stop himself, like he wasn’t even expecting it, and it’s so hot that Jounouchi can’t help pressing down onto him and grinding the cum out of Seto as he jolts and shudders in his arms. 

It’s Seto's second orgasm, shooting in weak ropes onto Jounouchi’s already disgusting couch, and then pressing right against Seto’s belly as he collapses down onto his stomach, feet kicking up as Jounouchi’s weight follows him down. Jounouchi wants to bully him for going down like that, but he can’t manage it when he’s still wrapped in Seto’s fluttering walls, still grinding slow into all that heat.  

“Didn’t know you could cum without touching yourself, did you, sweetheart?” Jounouchi breathes, forehead pinned between Seto’s bony angel wing shoulder blades.

“N-no,” Seto whimpers. He sounds exhausted, but shockingly more pleasant than Jounouchi thinks he’s ever heard him. He pets at Seto's hip underneath him.

“You like it?”

“Mnghh,” is what Seto says in response, clenching tight, and Jounouchi must have brushed his prostate again, hips adjusting so he’s not thrusting against it so pointedly.

“You liked it,” Jounouchi says against his skin, sweaty and body warm. “Course you liked it. I can teach you all kinds of stuff to do to your little whore body. But that’s two for you now, isn’t it? Made you cum two times and you haven’t even gotten me there once.” He thrusts hard, once, and shocks a whine out of Seto’s throat. “How’s that fair?”

“Jounouchi,” Seto slurs.

“Seems like I should keep fucking you. Make it a little even, right?”

“Ah, ah—” Seto reaches up and searches blindly until he can get a hand against Jounouchi’s face, palm pressed to his cheek. Jounouchi turns to the side to nip Seto’s long fingers. “O-okay.”

His voice is breathy, a little choked up, too quiet. Jounouchi doesn’t notice until he pulls back and Seto jolts on the press back in that Seto’s breath keeps hitching rhythmically, even when Jounouchi isn’t fucking him.

“Hey,” Jounouchi whispers, realization dawning on him. “Hey, kid. Why don’t you turn a little bit? Lemme see your face. You want me to look at you while I cum, don’t you?”

It takes another moment, a bit of quiet, hushed encouragement, but eventually Seto turns just enough for Jounouchi to confirm he’s got tears welling up in his eyes, starting to track down his cheeks. He gives a fucking adorable sniffle. “Don’t stop,” he begs, and Jounouchi bites his lip and then leans down, presses his mouth to Seto's in a clumsy, not quite kiss.

Jounouchi has to fuck him like that, can’t do anything else. He gives it to Seto in long, slow strokes, grinding deep, obsessed with the way Seto’s breath hitches and shakes as he cries. Fucking Seto takes it out of him always, just because the kid has more stamina than Jounouchi had more than almost two decades ago. It takes a lot to tucker him out, but this Seto doesn’t just look tired. There’s something sweet and open in his face, and Jounouchi can’t help keeping his eyes on him as he moves, watching Seto's mouth open on the occasional whimper when Jounouchi brushes against his prostate.

“Shh,” Jounouchi murmurs, and leans down, kisses his tear tracks, his shining eyelashes. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to. Just let me use you, just like that.”

Seto lets his eyes slide shut and Jounouchi knows he’s going to cum. He digs his knees into the couch and pushes and pushes and pushes, buries his nose in Seto's shoulder with a groan.

It’s just fucking, he rationalizes, just using the nicest, tightest hole available to him. It shouldn’t feel like shattering Jounouchi in half to cum inside of Seto with a sigh, pressed tight enough to feel him breathing, salty tang of tears on his tongue, but it does. It drags something deep out of him that doesn’t really have anywhere to go other than Jounouchi’s groping hands and desperate skin to skin contact. They’re kissing when Jounouchi cums, Seto’s hand tangled in his hair, and Jounouchi can’t help the fleeting thought that he’d like to stay like this forever. 

Jounouchi collapses on top of Seto, arms giving in, cock still snug inside of Seto as they each take slow breaths. Usually after they fuck, Seto stands up and dusts himself off and gathers his clothes off, maybe sneers a couple of insults at Jounouchi if he can swing it, and then takes off without another word. He’s an efficient hookup, not the lingering type, not unless Jounouchi has more beer or more stamina. 

It’s never been a problem before, but the idea of Seto doing it now instead of laying well-fucked and exhausted underneath Jounouchi makes him a little sick. His brain feels cloudy and possessive and warm, and it’s because of Seto’s soft skin pressed against him. Feels like a cat in a patch of sunlight. Feels like maybe he just put his soul in a high school boy’s body.

By the time he manages to put himself together enough to sit up, Seto is still laying blissfully still with his eyes closed, cheek pillowed on a cushion and breath slow. He’s not asleep, Jounouchi can tell, but any longer and he would probably get there.

“Hey, princess,” Jounouchi says, because it’s the best, easiest way to elicit a reaction. What he gets instead of Seto's usual biting wit is a slow hum and Seto crossing his arms under his head to bury his face. Christ. When did that become adorable?

“Come on, kid,” Jounouchi says, and brushes some hair out of Seto’s face. “I didn’t kill ya, huh? You alright for me, baby?”

Another hum, seemingly agreement, and Jounouchi has to do a lot of coaxing and even more lifting to get Seto sitting upright. And then Seto just stares at him cloudy eyed and relaxed, jaw splitting on a yawn as he stares blissfully into space. Jounouchi cups one of his cheeks. He’s not expecting Seto to nuzzle into his palm—the same palm he used to slap spit against Seto’s face—with a sigh.

Okay. Shit, okay.

Seto seems fine, really, if a little out of it. Jounouchi pushed him too hard, maybe, got a little too caught up in what they were doing, but Seto seemed to like it. Seems to like it still if the way he’s sighing and yawning means anything. He is, however, also covered in several drying substances that Jounouchi should probably deal with before kicking him out onto a curb.

“We’ve, uh—” Shit. Jounouchi is, for maybe the first time in his life, expected to be the adult in a situation. Seto's eyes fix on him. “We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? Clean you up, get you dressed. That sound alright?”

“Mhm,” Seto says into his palm, and Jounouchi pauses, thinking, before he folds over and gathers Seto up into his arms. It’s hard, considering Seto is tall as fuck and all gangly limbs, but he weighs almost nothing. He curls around Jounouchi like a koala and lets Jounouchi carry him across the apartment and into his bathroom to seat him on the small stool in front of his shower.

“You’re alright,” Jounouchi says softly when Seto starts to shiver again. It’s easy to tell that this shivering is just because he’s cold, coming down from being sweaty while also fully naked in Jounouchi’s chilly bathroom. Jounouchi sets about warming water in the tub before he hoses Seto down, wetting his own t-shirt and jeans and hardly managing to get anyone clean. Eventually he puts two and two together enough to strip out of his own clothes before starting to wash Seto down, running a soft washcloth over his body.

“You alright?” Jounouchi asks at random, and Seto responds in nods and hums. Never full words, no sentences either, but he seems fine otherwise. Jounouchi feels strangely calm about it, like they’re in a bubble where no one can disrupt them, where Jounouchi doesn’t have to worry so much with Seto letting him take care of him.

Seto seems to be mostly clean but having trouble with the shivering, Jounouchi manages to get them both inside of the tub without much fuss, and the warm water seems to stop Seto’s shivering once he’s seated between Jounouchi’s legs.

This close, though, Jounouchi can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him, kissing his bony shoulders, rubbing up and down his thighs. He’s acting like an annoyingly clingy girlfriend, but Seto doesn’t seem to mind much, especially once he drops his head back against Jounouchi’s shoulder with a sigh. Poor kid probably doesn’t let himself relax often. He’s as high strung as someone twice his age. He’s as high strung as people Jounouchi’s age.

“Gotta clean you out, kid,” Jounouchi mumbles eventually, and Seto squeezes his thighs around Jounouchi’s wrist as he gently fingers the cum out of his ass, breath hitching on occasion but not responding otherwise. He doesn’t seem too upset about the touch though, all things considered, especially when his legs start to tremble again. Just his legs though, the way they always do when they’re fucking.

When Jounouchi feels satisfied that Seto is all clean, he pulls his hand away to rest on Seto’s stomach instead, and finds, with a snort, Seto’s half hard dick waiting for him. “Still, kid?” he mumbles, and Seto turns his face away from Jounouchi like he’s embarrassed.

He gives a full body jolt when Jounouchi wraps a hand around his cock though, squirming when Jounouchi strokes a hand over his cock slow as molasses. On his second stroke, Seto’s hand clamps around his wrist, his knees coming up, curling in on himself a bit. “Hey, hey,” Jounouchi murmurs. “It’s alright, huh? You can give me one more, right, baby? Just one, kid, and then we’re all done.”

Seto doesn’t answer him. No humming, no nodding, no nothing. Jounouchi kisses his throat. Feels his stomach warm when he spots the familiar beauty mark on Seto's throat, but he’s not Seto's age. He’s not getting it up again right now. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I can do it,” Seto says roughly. His voice is still raspy, still a fucked up mess.

“You sure?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Seto sighs, and Jounouchi can’t help his grin.

“There’s my princess. Almost back to me. Last one.”

He strokes Seto's cock slowly, listens to his breath speed up, lets Seto squeeze his knee and doesn’t say anything too mean. Just soft encouragements, little things, so quiet Seto can pretend not to hear them if he wants. You’re being so good for me, kid. Such a good boy. Listened to everything I said, that’s all I wanted. You can make some noise honey, it’s okay. 

Every soft word makes Seto’s legs twitch, his cock throbbing in Jounouchi’s hand. He’s so sensitive it must be a little painful, but Seto always likes a little bite with his orgasm. The water keeps him slow anyway, keeps it wet and easy for them both.

“I’m close,” Seto gasps, and half turns, and Jounouchi catches his mouth in a soft, slow kiss.

“That’s it, Seto. Give it to me.” 

When Seto cums, it’s with a sigh, all relief, before he goes boneless against Jounouchi’s chest to pant. He’s all done, Jounouchi can tell. Wrung out. Perfect.

“That’s a good boy,” Jounouchi says softly, and plants a kiss on the side of Seto's head and lets him sit and soak for a touch longer.

—

Seto does up the last button on his uniform jacket, and Jounouchi sits sprawl legged on his couch like usual. 

“I’m sure you won’t draw any eyes in a school uniform on the trains at this time of night,” Jounouchi snorts.

Seto doesn’t look up when he speaks. “There’s a car waiting for me outside.”

Ah, of course. Right.

“You rich boys,” Jounouchi sighs, and lets his head thud back against the back of the couch. “Can’t you throw some of that my way? I’d love to pay my rent on time for once.”

Fully dressed, put back together, and no remainder of the boy that had been sobbing on Jounouchi’s couch an hour or two prior, Seto comes and stands in front of him with a cruel gleam in his eye. “We can add prostitution to the list of illegal things you do with me.”

“I’m down if you are,” Jounouchi says with a grin.

Seto rolls his eyes, and then pauses, fiddles with the edge of his sleeve. He’s got something on his mind, clearly, but is avoiding it for whatever reason. News to him—as far as he knew, Seto Kaiba never avoided anything.

Jounouchi raises an eyebrow. “Spit it out, princess.”

Seto scoffs, and the sudden vulnerability disappears. “You’re such an asshole,” he says. It doesn’t stop him from planting one knee beside Jounouchi’s hip in the couch and gathering Jounouchi’s hair in a hand to pull his head straight back. Jounouchi grins up at Seto's flat expression. “Next time too. You always say ‘until I can’t anymore’ but I want you to do it to me next time too. I don’t like empty promises.”

Jounouchi runs a hand up the back of Seto's thigh. “Whatever you say, cutie.”

Seto searches his gaze for a moment, and then pushes Jounouchi away. “You’re disgusting,” he mumbles.

“You fucking love it.”

Jounouchi lets his head fall back when Seto releases him and then stands. He’s all ready to go back to his life now, to pop back into the big bad world all alone. Well, his version of it, anyway. Jounouchi will drag him back into his side when the kid is looking for it.

“I might,” Seto says loftily, and Jounouchi takes the ensuing moment of silence to track back to what he said last. By the time he remembers, there’s a click of shoes, and then the door shuts, and Jounouchi is left staring bewildered at the deadbolt, heart pounding.

You fucking love it.

I might.

“Next time, huh,” Jounouchi snorts. He collapses back on his couch with a laugh.