Bartender

Chapter 3.

It's been awhile. I'm really sorry. I'm planning to submit a crap ton of stuff all at once. Anyways, I hope you guys are enjoying this, and thankyou so much for the kind reviews!

Mark was having a hard enough time not pressing the gas pedal to speed the drunken Yami home. Or to his house let's say. Yami sat, slouched in the passenger seat smiling like an idiot.

"Damn Mark." he said, touching his lips.

"You're a great kisser." he finished as he sent him a sidelong glance.

"Thanks." Mark said, eyes straining to stay on the road. His hands ached to let go of the wheel and ravage the other. He felt the heat between them. No lie. Finally, a few minutes later of tense silence, they pulled into the drive way. Yami let out a growl.

"Fuck." he said as he unbuckled his seat belt and clumsily reached over and grabbed the Youtubers face in his hands, his mouth descending on his forcefully. Mark sat in shock for a moment. Was the Brit into this? This... car sex?

Apparently so my dear friend.

Mark almost laughed. He scrambled for the seat recliner and yanked it backwards. Yami immediately climbed on top of him, straddling the other's waist, moaning. Hands grappled at each other's clothing. Suddenly, Yami yanked back. Mark looked up, straightening his glasses.

"What is it..."

"Damn... I just got a killer headache." Yami said, his hand drifting up to his forhead.

"I got some asprin in the house..." Mark commented, touching the other's waist.

"That would be great." said the Brit. Mark reached over and opened the door. Yami staggered out and Mark crawled out after him grabbing him before he fell. Aaron looked up at him smiling a bit.

Ya know, I wanted to make some of this lovey dovey cos so many fanfics I've read are just like, sex talk later. My bad. I just want to change things around a bit. Ya know?

Yami sat on Mark's couch in the living room, cradling a cup of... how stereotypical... cup of tea. Mark rustled around in the kitchen, trying to let the Brit have a moment alone. Yami sighed. The headache got to him. He only had had a few drinks, so the drunkeness wasn't SO bad. He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. How was he supposed to tell Mark why he really came? His thoughts were foggy. Might as well just tell him now 'cos he's so bloody drunk that Mark'll think that he just... confessed cause he was... well, drunk. He shook his head and closed his eyes. He felt the couch dip to his right.