Yuugi slams his own hand on the bed in turn, and leans in.

Close.

Closer.

Close enough for his breath to fan gently over Kaiba's face, perhaps only two inches apart. There is no insecurity in those eyes, though; gone is the terrified mouse that stepped into his office that first day, but someone almost drunk on the competition, the thrill, the contact, the cocktail of a connection not understood, blood drank from his body and the closeness with a person he'd admired for so, so long.

"Prove it," he murmured, quiet but intense. "C'mon, Kaiba. Show me what you've got."

His eyes did not leave his.