Series: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Category: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: One-sided Pegasus/Croquet
Warning: Angst
Author's Note: Once, I dreamt of plunging into Yu-Gi-Oh!-fandom, but I got distracted by life. But this was one of the things I got written, with an odd pairing.
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is creation of Kazuki Takahashi.
Archive: Abstract Reasoning.
Summary: During a rough night, Croquet is there for Pegasus.
My Most Beautiful Sin
His master was a beautiful thing.
He realized this when gazing into a moist, trusty maroon eye for a moment before he felt those soft lips brushing hesitantly against his own, slender arms winding around his neck. He gasped against that tender mouth, placing his hands carefully over his master's peeking shoulder blades, holding him close. He didn't dare to grab too hard, afraid of hurting the fragile sound that had just surrendered completely to him.
But that wasn't the beginning of the story.
* * *
His master was always cheerful, although there always seemed to be a shadow of some sort on his fine features, turning the smile that could have been warm and inviting into something more twisted, cruel. But with no cartoons or comics around, he never actually giggled aloud.
Except now.
Croquet had just stepped into the room and his master was almost keeling over with laughter, his voice pitching unpleasantly high. He noticed a wine bottle lying on its side on the table, obviously empty. A lone glass on the table was completely clean and untouched.
He's drank it all at once. This alarmed him. His master was known for his taste for fine wines, but he always enjoyed it in small amounts, never rushed like this. Croquet frowned, barely hearing his own thoughts over his master's shrieking laughter. What kind of mood swing could have led into this?
As his master's irregular bursts of laughter finally died out, aside from random chuckles, Croquet called out in mild tone:
"I believe it's time for you to go to sleep."
His master's eye bulged out slightly with surprise as he stared at Croquet, his full lips parting in a gasp. Croquet wasn't surprised when his master burst into laughter again, although it wasn't, for Croquet's great relief, quite as hysterical as his earlier outburst had been.
"Hee hee... but I ain't tired yet!" his master exclaimed loudly in childish tone, his laughter ending abruptly as the first hiccup came. He fell in astounded silence, pale silvery lashes fluttering as he blinked. A moment later the second hiccup came, along with third set of giggles.
"Croquet *hic*.. heh heh.. *hic* help me!" His master stood up clumsily, only to trip over and nearly land on his face if only Croquet hadn't taken few quick strides forwards to grab him before he hit the floor. His master hiccupped, his amusement shifting into irritation as he wrapped his arms around Croquet's torso to keep himself up.
Croquet felt a shiver run down his back as his master's face pressed against his chest, nuzzling at the dark fabric of his jacket. It was strange, to have his master this close.. this odd young man who talked and joked all the time, seemingly social, but yet he had always remained distant to everyone around him, unreachable, untouchable. Taking amazingly firm hold of Croquet's shoulders, his master straightened himself. For a moment, Croquet was sure that the other man would push himself away from him, but then his master leant to him again, bringing his face close to his own.
His master's breath was warm and moist on his skin as he whispered:
"Do you like me?"
And Croquet thought that surprises would be over for that night.
He tilted his head a little so that their eyes would meet, and was astounded to see the sincere, almost vulnerable look in that lone, dark amber eye. His master was still smiling at him in a silly manner, but it didn't quite reach that one healthy eye while the strange golden one just stared at him blankly, waiting for an answer.
"It's... it's a pleasure to serve you," he found himself saying, almost immediately berating himself for not giving a straight answer.. but do I even have one? His gaze flickered away for a moment before he met his master's eye again.
What he saw was quite different from possible hurt he had expected to see. Instead, it almost seemed like his master was touched, as if he was actually..
Happy?
"That's.. *hic*," his master started, stopping for a moment to swallow down another hiccup before finishing his sentence, staring straight into Croquet's eyes: "The nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time."
After that he pressed his face to Croquet's shoulder, hugging him with innocence of a child.
Croquet stood there, a statue wrapped in flesh and clothing. This wasn't something he was used to. Having his master basically cuddling against him wasn't anything he was used to. Unsure what to do, he took his master's shoulders carefully, intending to gently push him away.
He did nothing.
Instead, he chose to withdraw, his hands still on his master's shoulders.
"You need to rest, Sir."
For a moment, it seemed like his master was disappointed to hear him say that.. then he sighed, almost bored, and said in casual tone:
"Yes. I was wondering when you *hic* would notice, anyway!"
* * *
Later that night he would be holding his master, thinking:
I shouldn't.
Still, he would brush his fingers down his master's narrow back, feeling each of his ribs on his way down (he's so frail so frail), slowly opening his mouth beneath his master's exploring lips, reaching out with his tongue. His master would freeze at the first moist touch, and he would fear for a moment that he had just scared this beautiful creature away when his master's tongue pushed clumsily against his. He would suck it into his mouth, lifting his other hand up to entwine his fingers into his master's soft hair.. very carefully, of course, never too hard. His master was like glass, too easily broken, meant to be treated tenderly. None of those who had hurt - let it be mentally or physically - his master before had lived long after it. And if he made that mistake.. well, he would willingly follow those fools to hell.
He would think this, but not yet.
* * *
"Not that way, Sir."
His master blinked at him, pouting. "All right," he said, stretching the 'r' as long as he could before a hiccup came and he had to finish the word. "Lead the way, then." And in completely casual manner his master hooked onto his arm, pressing to his side.
When a faint blush crept its way to his cheeks, Croquet was happy to see that the corridors were completely empty. Hiccups, stumbling.. all we need is pink elephants and we're in Dumbo. "Certainly Sir,” he said hastily, gently wrapping his arm around his master's shoulders.
His master groaned something he didn't understand, leaning trustily against him. Together, they started to make their way towards his master's sleeping chambers (isn't a simple 'bedroom' fancy enough?), and while his master watched his own feet move with great interest, Croquet took a long look at the man he had sworn to remain loyal to.
His master was an attractive man; there was no way Croquet could deny that. He was tall, almost as tall as Croquet himself was, but while he was brawny, his master was slender, and even though his clothes were usually tightly fitting they still managed to cover his actual thinness rather well. His hair was of rare moonsilver colour, falling past his shoulders, smooth and silken. His face was narrow and elegant, and
I shouldn't.
beautiful.
His master suddenly grabbed him tighter, yelping out as he nearly lost his balance, and Croquet nearly ended up doing the same himself. He pulled his master quickly close to his chest and the man hung onto him desperately, his face again buried against Croquet's chest. This time he couldn't hold himself back from gasping aloud.
I shouldn't, he thought to himself again, still not able to finish his own thought.
He couldn't understand why his master's presence affected him like this all of the sudden. Yes, his master was attractive, he had always acknowledged that, but he didn't remember ever being this aware of it. But then again, he couldn't remember ever having his master this close to him. Nor feeling the firm warmth of his body..
They started walking again, Croquet a little too fast which caused his master nearly to stumble and snap at him in irritated tone: "Watch *hic* it!"
"I'm doing my best," he muttered softly. "Goodness, I'm doing my best."
* * *
Soon they would both moan into the kiss, and he would wish with all of his heart that his master did that of pleasure, too.
* * *
It was when they finally approached his master's bedroom when Croquet realized that he still had no idea how his master had ended up in this state.
This wouldn't be happening if something hadn't pushed his master over the edge. But just what could have triggered this? His master wasn't easily bothered.. his wealth and success had brought him many hateful letters from jealous people, with killing threats and other equally bothersome things, and Croquet could still remember the time when some disturbed person had actually attacked his master, leaving him shaken, but even that hadn't driven him drinking. So what could have made his master his upset?
His train of thought was interrupted as his master started giggling, pointing at the polished doorknob where his own reflection stared back at him. Croquet wondered if even gentle prying could bring him some answers, with his master this amused at everything. "Here we are," he called out in tone he hoped to be cheerful. "Your bed chambers."
"Enter the Toonworld," was his master's bizarre answer.
Croquet pushed the door open and led his master in, realizing that this was actually the first time he was actually inside the room. In fact, he couldn't remember if anyone except for his master had ever walked through that door. Quite certain that he wouldn't be allowed to stay for too long, Croquet took a look around.
The room was just as bombastic as Croquet had expected it to be. The floor was covered in scarlet carpet, which looked like it would feel furry to bare skin, walls were of slightly brighter shade and covered in gorgeous paintings, both by his master and some other great artists. There wasn't much furniture, for his master dined and worked elsewhere, aside from rather large bed, with deep crimson sheets and pillows of course, a closet for his clothing and a dark wooden desk that stood next to it. Croquet wasn't surprised to see a pile of Funny Bunny-magazines resting upon its shiny surface.
Croquet had just taken a step towards the bed when his master suddenly shrieked.
He was roughly shoved, and if not for few quick movements, Croquet would have lost his balance. From the corner of his eye he watched his master stumble backwards, shocked to see a look of absolute fear on his master's pale face as his amber eye spread wide. Croquet understood nothing until his master cried out:
"B-b-blood!"
Croquet took a look around, and aside from random splashes of dark brown and black, all he could see was red. "No, it's not," he said mildly. "It's just paint and fabric, nothing.."
"Blood!" Croquet shuddered at the hysteria that was evident in his master's voice. "There's blood all over! Somebody has been murdered here!" With a helpless cry, his master covered his face with his hands, collapsing on the floor.
Croquet was unable to move. His master sat up, face still hidden in his palms as he started to rock back and forth, humming something that sounded like a children's song, although he couldn't tell for sure. It would have fit the situation, though, so insane it was.
After a long moment of uncertainty, Croquet started to approach his master slowly, kneeling down on the floor as he got close enough. His master yelped when Croquet grabbed his shoulder gently, but calmed down when recognizing him. This made Croquet's heart swell with something warm, but he chose to leave that for later.
"It's alright," he said, hoping it was the right thing to say.
His master's eye was focused on his shoulder, and his lips kept moving rapidly, repeating 'we all live in the yellow submarine..'. Croquet stroked the length of his arm lightly to soothe him. He was surprised to actually feel a line of a muscle under his touch, sleek and narrow. "Let’s get you to bed."
His master didn't resist first when he urged him to stand up, but once he had rose to his full height he tried to break free from Croquet's hold, but this time the older man was prepared and held on tightly, although still careful not to squeeze too hard. His eyes met his master's crimson-gold one, and his heart ached as he saw the fright in that beautiful eye, as if the walls truly were covered in blood.
"There's nothing there," Croquet said mildly. "You're safe here, master Pegasus."
His master shook his head, frantic look in his eyes.
Croquet bit his lip. He knew that he could send his master into hysterics with one wrong word, so he would have to say something really soothing. He spoke slowly, pleased to notice that his own nervousness didn't push through his voice:
"I won't leave you alone here."
His master blinked, his eye focusing on Croquet, now actually seeing him.
Croquet fell silent as he found himself drowning in the amber depths of the lone orb, figuratively of course. "I will stay with you, so you don't have to fear anything, I promise."
If his master had been in his senses, Croquet would have expected something like 'Minus 10 points for sappiness', but now he was only relieved to see his master give him a child-like nod, his tense body relaxing. Moving slowly, not to alarm the younger man, Croquet started leading him towards the bed.
Seeing his bed from close distance seemed to console his master somewhat, as he willingly collapsed onto it once Croquet brought him close enough. "It's dry," his master muttered as he crawled over to the crimson sheets, turning his back on Croquet.
Croquet found himself staring at the length of his master's lean body, uncomfortably aware of the way the thin, silken fabric of the clothing clung onto his thinness, baring every delicate curve. If that suit is a mess in the morning, he'll skin me. Croquet remained unmoving, though, fearing what would happen if he actually listened to himself and proceeded to strip his master.
I should have known this was going to be a long night..
His master tilted his head up and allowed his gaze to slide over the walls, his face relaxed, but Croquet didn't miss the slight tension that was still present in his eyes. He started as his master suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"Is there...?" How familiar was that disinterested tone, stretch of every word. Only the strength of the squeeze betrayed his master's anxiety.
"No," was Croquet's reply. "There's nothing there."
"Nothing there," repeated his master. Croquet was quite sure that the younger man wasn't even aware of the fact that he spoke aloud. "Nothing means space. All black." Croquet was quite sure he didn't want to know what his master was talking about.
That became all too clear for him as his master whispered very, very softly, his grip slightly loosening on his wrist:
"There's always dark in graves."
Croquet ignored the urge to pull his hand away, but he couldn't hide the pitiful look that rose on his face, only partly hidden by his sunglasses. "Master Pegasus.."
"I hate graveyards." Repulsion kept shifting with fear in his master's eye that didn't seem to be able to focuse on Croquet only. "I can hardly visit the graves of my parents because I.. hate.. the atmosphere there..." His master shuddered, loosening his hold on Croquet's wrist completely, allowing his hand to drop limply on the bed. Unexpectedly, he smiled, glint of craze lighting up in his eyes. "That's why I buried her somewhere little less dead.. Hah, she would probably be laughing at me right now, for being this silly! After all she IS dead.."
His master turned his back on him, his body shaking with hysterical giggles.
Croquet had his answer for the question that had been bothering him ever since he had found his master from the company of a lonely wine bottle right there. 'She' was something his master kept usually very quiet about, making sure that none of his employees had a glue that 'she' existed in the first place, and Croquet would never have known as much about 'her' as he did if not for other moments like these, with his master sad and lonely and seeking comfort from liquid rather than from other person. This night had been an extreme case, with his master usually just slightly more talkative if he had taken a bit too much, but even then his master never seemed to remember any of the little slips he had made.
Maybe telling about 'her' would have helped others to understand, but if his master found it too personal and painful to share it with anybody else, Croquet would remain silent.
"Are you still there?" his master suddenly called out, his voice an interesting mixture of disinterest and a whimper.
Again, Croquet felt his heart fill up with almost aching warmth that he didn't dare to name. "I promised that I wouldn't leave you," he answered gently. His master didn't turn to look at him, but Croquet could see the shivers running through his body in a slow rhythm, so to make sure that his words had reached his master's ears, he sat down on the bed, reaching out to place his hand on his master's shoulder. The younger man tensed first under his touch, but after recognizing the touch as Croquet's, he relaxed.
To Croquet's fascinated horror, he realized that he didn't want to move his hand away.
His master wasn't too much into physical activities, but Croquet could still feel the muscles under the silken suit, through the smooth warmth of the skin under the thin material. He brushed his fingers down the lean arm, caressing his master carefully. His heart throbbbed fast, and his master's flesh felt so warm beneath his touch, but his mind was aching with quilt, ignoring his own explanations about how he wasn't doing this to hurt his master, but because.. because.. because of what? Because he was so desperate to touch his master? Because he longed to feel his master's naked skin against his own? Now his master still didn't want his suit get ruined, did he?
He looked down at his master's content form, the eased, delicate face, and the urge to move closer to him was so powerful that.. no, he couldn't even explain it. And his master rested there, unaware of Croquet's intense stare, of the thoughts waiting to be acted out on within him.
* * *
I shouldn't, he tells himself.
And with that he finally puts a stop on his guilty fantasy.
He listens to his master's even breathing for a moment before retreating slowly to the door, slipping out of the room with only slightly hastened movements, his lips still aching with kisses that never took place.
It was getting harder and harder every day. Croquet couldn't - or rather, he refused - name what exactly drew him to this young man who was entire generations ahead of him, but whatever it was, it was getting too much for him. When he walks down the corridor, face red with shame and rejected pleasure, he can't help but wonder if he will be able to do this anymore.
In the morning, his master won't remember anything. There will be one awkward moment as his master tries to figure out with one glare if he did anything really stupid last night, but after that they'll be like they always are, politely aware of each other's existence and the fact that they both need each other. And secretly, that Croquet needs his master much more than the other man could ever imagine.
He closes his eyes, promising himself that he won't think of his master anymore. Not tonight. Although he shouldn't be doing that at all. Unfortunately, his will-power isn't strong enough to make him believe in that with all of his heart.
26. August 2007