Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ So Long As You Promise to Behave, Seto ❯ Don't Speak ( Chapter 1 )

So Long As You Promise To Behave, Seto

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Co-authored by Mausoleum Ivy

::-:: Don't Speak ::-::

Escapade #: 1

Location: Kitchen Table

Tools of the Trade: none

It was so hot.

If I could have shed my skin, at that point, I would have; my gown was sticking to me from the sweat drenching my skin and I wasn't even doing anything. It was well past midnight; I'd occupied myself with watching the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into hours. Three hours had in fact passed that way; it was about four in the morning, and even though it was still dark I could hear the birds begin to rouse themselves from their slumber. I wanted to just snap their pretty little necks, which for me is a bit odd, because I love animals. But everything was starting to aggravate me lately. That day there were only two things on my mind: the time and sex.

I was afraid I was becoming obsessed with it like my darling husband, which would just be intolerable; Seto was already a nymphomaniac and he drove me nuts, because everything and/or anything could become dirty and/or sexy once he put his hands on it. Still, it was hard to stay away from him, partially because he wouldn't let me say no, and partially because, as much as I hated to admit it, my attraction to him was so deep I had no words for it. It's irritating to think everything someone does is attractive in some kind of way, or that it fits them/suits them perfectly. When I say everything, I mean everything, even his god-awful snoring. Sick isn't it? But if he didn't snore, I'd think he was replaced by a robot, and while I'd try that out for a while and see if it works, eventually I know I'd want him back again.

Presently he shifted closer to me, the way he always did just before he woke up. His breath against my back sent shivers up my spine, exciting more than the nerves in my skin. I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed; I had to find something to do. Unlike Seto, I can control my urges, and I'd like to keep them in control for as long as possible. My gown practically clung to me as I made my way quietly towards the bathroom; the temperature in my house wasn't hot I was sure and yet I was practically sweating like a pig. I felt so disgusting-I needed a nice cool down. Reaching the bathroom, I closed the door and peeled off my gown, setting the water in the tub for a cool shower.

You ever know something was wrong with you, knew exactly what it was but didn't want to admit it? Maybe you're allergic to chocolate and you can't have it because it breaks you out in hives, but you love it so much you don't want to admit it. Well I knew what was wrong with me. But admitting it would only make it worse-much much worse. See, I was trying to keep myself under control as much as possible, but this wasn't the kind of thing that you can control. It had everything to do with my instincts, my "blessed" anatomy, which was only part human in form and word, but not in action. Figures it would kick in two months after we're married.

Another thing that had me worried was the medication that I was taking for my "state of mind". I had about sixteen pills I had to take during any given week to keep me stable and, in some cases, tranquilize me, but I was afraid that pretty soon they wouldn't have any kind of effect on me at all. I didn't want Seto to freak out and take me back to another hospital or to see Monica so she could up the dosage on my medication for something I had almost no control over. I already hate acknowledging the fact that I have a problem. So far I'm obsessive compulsive, anti-social, schizophrenic, severely paranoid, masochistic, sado-masochistic, borderline anorexic, borderline personality disorder, suicidal, and some other shit I don't even want to remember; there's at least twelve of them if not more. All these disorders lead to all these pills because I'm only half-human, so they don't exactly know how to treat me. And they call this modern science. Whatever the fuck.

I sighed, leaning against the shower wall for a minute. It was hot even in the shower; there was just no hope for me today. I turned it off and stepped out, drying off before going into the bathroom closet and pulling out another nightgown, which I just pulled over my head to stop from being naked. I didn't need any lewd comments setting me off for the next 2 weeks. I just have to be cool about it and think up a lie for Seto so that he won't try anything for the next 336 hours.

Yeah, even I have to laugh at that one.

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So Seto went on this mad shopping spree for me once we were married and bought all these fugly ass girly clothes. In order to show him that he hadn't spent $75,283 in vain, I wear them as often as I can, but some of this stuff-like the nightgown I was wearing-was too fucking ugly. It was a soft pink that was caught somewhere between rose and white, and was thin enough for a summer gown, but it was almost January, and I still felt like I had on too much. I wanted to tell him so bad "I'm allergic to pink", but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Anyway, I was just sleeping in it, but still sometimes even sleeping in this shit is too much. I just wanted to take it off and leave it wherever it landed.

Sometimes I swear that man can hear my thoughts.

I planted myself on the table just under the fan, having turned it on just as I walked into the kitchen. I was becoming sticky again, and I hated feeling that way for any reason. Sighing, I rested there, trying to keep my mind away from anything sexual. I'd resorting to counting all the countries of the world that I'd killed someone in, then naming them in every language I knew all in my head. I was somewhere between 8 and 10 when he walked in, yawning and walking as if he had nowhere to go this morning. At first I was going to ignore him, but his pajamas made me stare-little Blue Eyes Toon Dragons were all over the place, his shirt and pants. I had to raise an eyebrow; I just had to. You would too. I mean this is a grown man-he's like 21 and he's running around with cartoon characters on his PJs. Oh my god, grow the fuck up.

But he did look kind of cute.

He headed straight for the coffee; f-ing typical. I didn't want to make one sound, but sad to say he'd already seen me. He sees everything. Can he see why kids love Cinnamon Toast so much? Yes, yes he can.

Seto cannot function without coffee. He actually goes through withdrawal if he doesn't have it. His favorite brand? Well the best part of waking up is fucking in front of a cup…of Gevalia. This motherfucker runs through coffee like I go through bullets. I often wonder if he married me because on some level I not only resemble coffee, but I act like it-hot and bitter, even when it's cool. I'd say I taste like it too-he's got this nasty habit of putting his mouth in places they don't belong. Not that I don't think I wouldn't enjoy it, but I'm a little more paranoid about him wanting me to return the favor. I'll do a lot of things to please my husband, but oral is a big, big no no.

So he saw me. I should've been frozen like a deer in headlights, but instead I was watching him. I don't know if it was cautiously or in anticipation, but in the end it didn't even matter. Soon as he put on the water for the coffee it was all over.

I should've known we wouldn't get through a day without fucking. We never go more than 3 days without fucking-3 days is considered a draught. Seto starts going through withdrawal and getting antsy, and I start thinking about should I or shouldn't I. I'm not addicted but I do love sex, especially with Seto. He always keeps it interesting.

He stared at me with those huge blue eyes, slightly slanted and covered by thick, unruly brown hair. That one lock of hair still hung between his eyes, resting on his nose faithfully even when he tried pushing it out of the way. That nose was just too adorable, and those lips…

"Hot?" he asked as he approached me, his voice slightly husky. That only happens when he wakes up in the morning; later on as the day progresses, his voice starts to suck just like the rest of him. Thus I love his voice in the morning. Life would suck like that and not let his voice be like that permanently. Oh well. I'd better enjoy it while I can, before he goes back to sounding like some tyrant dictating a Nazi-run organization.

Honestly, I love my husband, but sometimes I really, really hate him.

"No, I'm sitting under here to dry off," I responded sarcastically. Honestly, why else would someone sit under a fan in the middle of winter. Someone should re-label him: Seto Kaiba-Genius, but only at Kaiba Corp. International.

Fuck, he's giving me that sly "come hither" stare. I love his eyes. They're so dramatic, like his emotions are etched in between the glistening the light gives them. Sometimes they're jewels, sometimes they're gems, sometimes they're stone, but in any case they always draw you in; if you stare long enough they become hypnotic, sometimes to the point where you can't move, you can't breathe-all you can do is stare.

"I love you in pink," he commented. Forcing back my gag reflex on that one took everything in me; I'm too dark to be in pink. But who cares what I think? I'm about to get some; hallelujah, praise the Lord.

Lay it on me Blue Eyes.

He smirked, closing his eyes halfway as he leaned in to kiss me.

Dear gods above, I love this man's kisses. You ever had a kiss that was like just…blah? Seto's kisses are never just blah-they're always something. Juicy, deep, sweet, dramatic, engulfing--they're always something. This one was slow, passionate, simmering (not like cooking), hot. It was perfect-he was telling me he wanted me without being all raunchy about it. Not that there's anything wrong with raunchy but there's a time and a place for it and 4 in the morning wasn't it. Hopefully he wouldn't do something stupid to mess up a perfectly good moment.

He leaned against me, resting his hands on the table on either side of my thighs, pushing me back just a bit. One of my hands found its way to the back of his neck, resting there as I pulled him closer, the other one supporting me from behind. We had a thing for awkward positions-they were tiring but so, so fun.

His mouth left mine for a moment to drift down to my neck, his lips trailing against my skin just slightly before he planted a kiss near my collarbone. Foreplay. Fuck, I hate foreplay. I hate it with an undying passion-just kick the ballistics and fuck me. I mean that's what we're both here for. That's what it all comes down to anyway; I don't understand why it takes people so long to get worked up to that point. Give me 10 minutes and a knife and I'm all good.

Seto however is a pleasure delayer. He draws things out. Most of the time that is so, so annoying, like right now when I'm already worked up enough. It was the look. The look did it. It was the look and the fact that my hormones were already on overdrive; I felt like a teenager during puberty. If he were dressed like a pickle it'd be just as much of a turn-on as whatever he was doing to me now. Whatever--wait a minute, what the fuck? …Oh, no wait, false alarm.

Those darling fingers of his started toying with my hair, the way he does when he's trying to figure out what to do next. Yes, Seto has to think during sex. Don't ask why-I don't know. Busting him out would just take all the fun out of it. Like how do you get stumped during sex? Isn't it supposed to be instinct? So, what, is his instinct on hold or something? Man, this must be really boring if I'm thinking to myself while he's trying to fuck me. I should be blinded by passion and lust, not thinking about him thinking during sex. Bad boy Seto.

The coffeemaker timer went off. Sighing I pushed him away, trying not to show how irritated I really was. By now I should be on my back screaming not still licking his taste off my lips. That's like making out and we never make out. That would indicate that we're in love, which at the moment we're not. He's in love. I'm in heat.

Seto had his coffee while I fidgeted impatiently under the fan, trying hard not to snap like I really wanted to. How do you stop in the middle of sex to have coffee? Couldn't he tell how much I wanted it? I was practically clawing at the table to keep myself calm; everything was hard, nothing made sense anymore and the only thing I could think about was seeing the kitchen ceiling firsthand. He needed to bring his little skinny ass over here so we could finish this.

Impatience: the first sign.

Shortly I groaned, tossing my head as the heat swept over my body, completely unforgiving in its attack. What the hell is wrong with me-I'm 21 years old, I'm not supposed to be having hot-flashes. And here they are, on, off, on, off, on, off like a 3 year old fascinated with a light switch. This is just cruel. I leaned forward, hanging my head, swallowing as my throat became dry. This isn't fair you know; I just want one month where anything on or inside of my body doesn't go completely haywire. Too bad wants and needs are two different things.

"Ede?" I hate it when he calls me that. "You okay?"

I nodded. I really was okay-I knew what was wrong. There was really nothing I could do about it but wait it out. "Just hot," I responded.

"…The heat isn't on," he responded mildly.

What the fuck did that have to do with anything?

I felt like coming out of my own skin at the moment; everything was burning inside of me, making it so hard to breathe. I started tugging at my skin, wanting to just peel that and the flesh right off of my bones. It was so damn hot. It felt like I was literally on fire, or maybe standing in the center of a volcano. Everything was off. If it was inside of me it was either moving too fast or too slow and worst of all, I couldn't breathe. Cool hands brought me back from my torment, resting against my agitated skin lightly. "Ede, Ede it's ok," he said to me. "Calm down."

Aside from wanting to slap him for calling me that, the only thing I could think of relief. "Just get it off," I managed, my voice slightly strained. I sounded just as choked as I felt.

Peeling off the nightgown was like peeling off a layer of skin; I felt some relief almost instantaneously but I was still hot. I heard it drop to the floor and muttered a stray 'thank you' to Seto before going back to suffering. Half of me wanted to hit the floor and the other half wanted to race butt naked through Antarctica. I'd never had it this bad before, but I was determined to keep my cool. Stupid me should've realized that trying to fight against it was only going to make it worse.

"Better?" he whispered, kissing my forehead softly. His scent enveloped me, making my temperature rise even further; he smelled like that cologne he was always wearing, the one that turns me on so much. It's a perfect mix of lavender and vanilla, or at least that's what it smells like. Sweet merciful heavens it was intoxicating. I leaned forward just a bit, wondering if that was really his smell or just my overactive imagination and hyperactive libido running away with me.

I nodded, receiving another kiss from him on the nose, then the lips. I opened my mouth to him, eager for his taste, his touch. His temperature was so much cooler than mine-did he feel that? He had to; his hands were resting on my thighs, squeezing them lightly. He had to feel that. I was so hot, and he was so cold, so refreshing.

I pulled him closer, his hands sliding up to my waist delicately. My fingers stumbled over themselves as I tried to unbutton his shirt, remembering how much he probably loved these pajamas, but then all was forgotten when impatience took over again, resulting in me ripping the top open. He could buy fifty new pairs when this was all over, and they were flannel anyway so who honestly gives a fuck.

I felt him smirk against my lips, pulling back as he watched me, eyes dancing. I don't know what he found so fucking amusing but I really didn't care either. I laid back on the table, pulling him up on top of me by the waist of his pants; he laughed and kissed me again, which I tolerated, but honestly didn't want. He knew what I wanted. What a fucking time to be a pleasure delayer.

His hands rested on either side of my head as he continued to kiss me while I fought with his pants. At first I just wrapped my legs around his waist and tried to use one of my feet to try to push his pants off of him, but that wasn't working. Then I tried leaning up to take them off but my arms are so damn short that that didn't turn out too well either, so I wound up just ripping them open from the front, exposing him. He wasn't as hard as I wanted him to be but he was hard enough.

"Feisty this morning," he murmured, his mouth catching a lock of my hair as I ducked out of the way of another kiss. What'd he think we were, teenagers?

"Just fuck me," I hissed back. "We'll discuss emotional turmoil later." If I even remembered later.

He laughed, bringing my legs further up around his waist as he entered me, my insides nearly bursting with relief. He was like ice; I moaned loudly, relaxing against the table, feeling the coolness sweep through my lower abdomen the deeper he went. It really was quite a contrast-ice fucking fire. It clashes, but if you're fire and he's ice, it's such a welcome wet dream.

"Fuck you're tight!" he hissed, a grunt vibrating through his chest. Now, that I'd never heard before; I haven't been a virgin since I was six and Seto never gives it to me up the ass so I was surprised. For about three seconds, anyway, then my body responded to his presence involuntarily, my insides tightening around him, causing him to gasp. He felt that. "Eden…??"

What'd he want me to say? I didn't even know half of what was going on, just that I was in heat and he felt so, so good. "Just relax," I told him, my hands resting on his arms. "And go slow." Slow enough for me to feel everything.

He abided by my wish, and each thrust was just another orgasm; I came repeatedly, and each time I did, he felt it. He kept saying I was so, so tight, and I kept saying it felt so, so good…I wasn't sure who was enjoying it more-me or him. After a moment we seemed to meld into each other, until it was as if we were the same person moving by the same rhythm. His hand brought mine down from his arm, fingers intertwining with mine, his panting hot and heavy as he quickened his pace. The exertion was getting to him, sweat gathering on his back and sides as he continued, his flesh reddening slightly as his fingers tightened around mine while the other hand he used to support himself. He was getting ready to cum; I felt him trembling inside of me. I leaned against him, my free hand sliding up his arm and over his shoulder, waiting in anticipation.

First ice; he groaned loudly, pausing in his movement, shaking violently as he came. Arctic chill spread through me, calming me down almost completely as trembled, his face twisted in the purest of passionate agony.

Then fire; my body erupted, forcing me forward as a violent orgasm burst inside of me, clutching him tightly in one final display of ownership, causing him to gasp once more. It poured out of me, coating both of us, leaking onto the table freely. Seto hardly noticed, collapsing almost on top of me; he had enough consideration to move over a little so I wouldn't be crushed by his weight. For a minute there was dead silence, the only movement in the kitchen the fan and breathing.

Finally he asked the question I just knew I was going to have to answer sooner or later: "What the hell was that?"

Was it good or was it bad? I was too afraid to ask or answer, knowing that if I spoke right now nothing would come out right. So I didn't say anything at all.