He had been wrong. He was not able to become the heartless bastard again so easily. If he had, the pain in his heart would not bother him so much as doubt plagued him; nothing was going to fix this as easily as some of his past issues. How was it that one went about fixing something like this in the first place, he wondered. He was not even sure how he had returned home after the last disastrous visit to Toxic Pleasures. The rest of the night after finding himself alone in the room with his brother was a blank.

Mokuba. The look on his face expressed his own shock at the revelation. How in the hell had this happened?


“I’m sorry.” He had not heard as Mokuba walked into his room, not even the sound of the door shutting behind him reached Seto's ears. He couldn’t look up at his brother, unsure how he’d react seeing what would be there; his eyes focused in slowly on the computer screen in front of him that had long ago switched over to the screen saver. How long had he been sitting there lost in thought?

“Seto, I didn’t know it was you.” Seto was not sure if he heard the absent obviously or not lingering in the air. Mokuba did not know it had been him, how could he have? What were the chances after all, his brother had written an advert that he just happens to read and fit, and they both frequented the same sex club--what were the odds they would end up together? He did not even want to think about it. Mokuba was aware of the contents of his ad and Seto's presence at the club; he should have realized there might be an unfortunate meeting between them. Maybe that was what he had--no, he was not going to accuse his brother of anything untoward. Seto refused to believe it was even remotely possible that Mokuba realized they could have met sexually and not done anything about it.

However, there was still a slight twinge of emotion to Mokuba's voice that he could not place. It had to be his train-wrecked brain addling things, there was no way he heard what he thought he might in the words. “Would it have made any difference?” Everything in him screamed at the question, wanting Mokuba to tell him yes. His whole being yelling that he did not really want to know the answer, either way.

There was a long pause before he received an answer. The long sigh that came before, either one of relief or exasperation, Seto was not sure. “Not in the way in you think, it wouldn’t have, but yes there would have been a difference, for me at least.”

Seto looked up at his brother completely aware of the mask astonishment that covered his face. There was no way Mokuba said that and meant it the way he heard it. Cautiously he asked, “What difference would it have made?”

“Knowing it was you?” Mokuba turned looking away from his brother’s gaze. He paused again for a long moment, and Seto could swear he heard their heartbeats pounding in rhythm throughout the room. “I would have enjoyed it more.”

“Mokuba you don’t mean that--you can’t.” There was no way it was possible, his brother had any idea what that meant, what consequences his words could have. He looked down at the computer screen again it was the safest place for his eyes at the moment, unable to look at Mokuba.

“Seto, you’re the only constant in my life. The only one who has always been there for me. Why does it shock you so much that I would want you? I’m not 12; I am old enough to know what--who I want.” He had closed his eyes, knowing at any moment he would look up and Mokuba would be standing next to him. It came as a surprise to him when his chair moved back from the desk and Mokuba knelt before him, in an attempt at forcing Seto to face him.

Mokuba’s voice was so soft, so quiet as he continued speaking. “Don’t you think I’ve tried to get over you?” His voice cracked, and he stopped to catch his breath, which was coming in jerky gasps. “I tried, for years, nothing worked. Then I found Toxic. Every time, it was supposed to be you. That’s why I did things that way--I didn’t see their faces or hear their voices, so I could imagine it was you the entire time.”

His head fell to rest upon Seto’s lap. Absentmindedly, Seto's hand brushed across Mokuba's head, pushing back some of the strands that had fallen out of their tie. “Mokuba, I am so sorry. I never--”

“I know.” So soft, muffled against the material of his pants, he could feel the heat from Mokuba's face against his thigh. A light touch ran along the inner seam, he had to stop this.

“No, you don’t. I never meant to hurt you; I didn’t know.” Their eyes met and in that instant, he was lost. Mokuba took the initiative and in that one second of hesitation on Seto's part, kissed him.

It was too late when Seto realized Mokuba had stood again, pulling him up out of the chair to join him. He popped several buttons in the process of removing Seto’s shirt. “We can’t do this, Mokuba.” Kissing him again, effectively silencing him, Mokuba brought his hands up slowly stripping Seto of the garment before gently pushing him back toward the bed. Seto silently moved as directed by Mokuba pushed, lifted, or turned as clothing fell to the floor, distracted by the presence of Mokuba's mouth on his.

“I don’t care. You said I could do what I wanted as long as I didn’t get hurt. You would never hurt me. Seto, for once just trust me.” Pleading blue-gray eyes looked into his, “One last time, just, just let me lead the way. Let me know it’s you I’m with; I need this so much it hurts.”

No matter what, he had never been able to deny his brother anything, how could he start now even when everything told him he should? Maybe it was that there was a similar pain somewhere deep inside that he knew would not be silenced and he did not want the same for his brother. He reached up pulling the band that held Mokuba's hair out. “You should wear your hair down more often,” his fingers ran through the silky strands, caressing Mokuba's face gently through the touch.

Mokuba's clothing joined his on the floor, before he crawled upon the bed slowly straddling Seto. Trembling hands worked less than timidly at his cock, the tight grasp moving the flesh in rapid motion, bringing about the appropriate reaction. Pleased with the now firm erection, Mokuba reached out for a small tube on the dresser top and handed it to his brother. Squeezing a moderate amount of the clear gel into Mokuba's hands, Seto watched in odd fascination as the gel slid between Mokuba's fingers, squishing between them as he jerked off Seto, working the lube into his skin.

One moment, the firm grasp around his cock came from his brother’s hand the next--Mokuba moved quickly impaling himself hard upon Seto. After that first moment, it seemed that oh so long and painfully slow, they moved their bodies together as one. Looking up at Mokuba, Seto could see the tears that streaked his face. Surely, this was not hurting him after everything that he had done prior, Seto wondered. Seeing the look upon his brother’s face, Mokuba shook his head, “It’s just this is what it was supposed to be. What I wanted for so long, I know it’s you now. I can feel it instead of just imagining what it would be like.”

Right then he knew, he wanted to stay in that moment forever. Love, finally shown through another’s eyes for him, and just for that moment, he knew. It was no longer his little brother who looked at him with anger-tinted eyes, but a beautiful young man that had hurt for far too long with an unfulfillable desire. That hurt, knowing he had not been able to see what Mokuba had needed. Unable to fix and set right the only thing in his life that mattered most, before it had gotten so messed up.

He was beautiful. Seto saw Mokuba no longer as the little boy he had to protect but as the man he had grown into. The blue-gray eyes that darkened so vividly when emotion took over, the long raven hair so soft and tempting that had driven him crazy before without knowing it. Mokuba had grown up, quite well, and he had missed it all until now.

Their hands twined together wrapping around Mokuba's cock, antagonizing slow in their simultaneous strokes. Breathing turned to hitching gasps as their eyes locked momentarily before Mokuba's closed, head tossed back in orgasmic rapture. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, the complete joy that was his Mokuba.

His last thought before joining him in the final fulfillment was that he was damned to whatever hell might exist in the afterlife--not that he believed in any of that, but if it turned out to be true, he had enjoyed the road there.


 

onward