I realized that I haven't been on this site in so long, as either a reader or a writer. Things have been a bit turbulent lately, but I think that I am finally able to get back on track with my fanfictioning. I decided to edit this fiction, seeing that there were only minor mistakes that I could see, before anything else. Author's notes are pretty much the same, except when I felt like such a n00bcake, where I erased bits and pieces.
Author's Notes: Hey, everyone! Well, I am between multi-chapter stories. But before I start my next long story, I decided to have a short tendershipping. Hooray! Go Bakura and Ryou! They are one of my favorite couples, but I think they aren't represented enough as an un-established couple. I got the idea for this from my story, 'It's a Wonderful World'. It's like a spin-off. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: On Yugioh, are there mass amounts of teen-aged, gay couples? How about major gay sex between hot characters? Has a certain brunette given up her attempts of getting a certain ex-pharaoh and has then started her very own yuri couple with a certain puppy's sister? No? Then I don't own Yugioh.
Warnings: Couples- Bakura/Ryou, Atemu/Yuugi, Seto/Joey, Honda/Otogi, Anzu/Serenity; mention of past- physical abuse, rape, drug abuse and use, Bakura/Atemu; OOC and appearance altering (in the slightest bit); cursing; and last but not least, lemon.
Looking upon his face was like doing so upon an angel's. By stealing this time before I must wake him from his light slumber, I was able to do such a sin. This sin was not one that you can find in some bible. No. This sin was of having impure eyes set upon perfection.
Sighing, I combed my gray and silver hair, several strands of black in the mix, with my thin fingers. I felt so defeated. Why in the name of Ra was I assigned the duty to wake him? I was as incompetent in this simple task as the pharaoh is at any job given to him. As I rubbed my naked, pale shoulder, I seated myself on the edge of his mattress. My body twisted to the head of the bed as I continued to watch him through my dusty, Prussian blue eyes, my black pajama pants wrinkling at the crotch and knees.
My skin, though a tad pale, was nothing compared to his creamy, soft flesh. As he reached the end of his teen years, the ever so delicate features that graced him when we first met had sharpened; revealing him as a man and not a child, though I often refer to him as one. He still was extremely effeminate, but he was an effeminate man, at that. Several silver hoops and studs adorned his paper-thin ears, all of which he acquired in the past year. Another silver stud ran through the skin of his fine eyebrow. His hair, however, covered most of his ear ornaments. The thick tresses of newly fallen snow waved down from his scalp to rest on the pillow.
I leaned forward, grabbing his forearm in the process. As always, his skin was cool. I hardly felt it any warmer than this, except when he had a fever. The chill was inviting, however, making you want more. His extremely fair, silky complexion, his perfect features, and this chill made him seem, almost, like a porcelain doll.
Smiling at my thought, I gingerly shook him and whispered his name into his ear, "Ryou."
He stirred, shifting from side to side. His eyelids twitched to close more. The boy rolled over. If it had not been for my lower back holding him up by his stomach, he would have landed on the floor. I bit my lip, due to his pelvis pushing hardly at the top of my pants and the small of my back. Suppressing a slight moan, I tried again. "Ryou."
The boy sighed deeply. In one, swift movement, he held my wrist, pulling my open hand under his cheek touching the pillow.
I was trapped because of the feather-filled fabric, the boy's head and the fragile fingers around my wrist. I pushed further in between him and the pillow. As I did, my fingertips brushed against the porcelain surface, until I reached my destination, his hair. Even as he slept, his hair was perfectly unknotted and as soft as ever.
I played with some of the strands for another minute before leaning down, again. Before I had the chance to say anything, the boy's eyes sprung open, revealing the most luxurious, dark chocolate puddles the mortal world has ever seen. "You know, you are way too gentle in waking me up."
Silently, I watched as he rubbed his eyes and face with the hand not clenched around the base of my palm. Ryou licked around his lips. It was a sight I had to miss because a blush would have definitely crawled up my face if I continued to look at him. His attention turned back at me. "G'morning, my dark," he said groggily.
"Same to you, my light. You were awake?" He created a noise, representing 'yes' for an answer. He closed his eyes, grabbing my trapped wrist with both hands while pressing his face deeper into my palm. "May you tell me why you didn't alert me of your consciousness?" Yet another noise came from the boy, this time to give the opposite response than the first. Rolling my eyes, I asked, "May I have my hand back?"
Without a hint of warning, Ryou yanked me down and onto his bed. I landed awkwardly, since my top half was on the bed and my legs were hanging off the side. My other half, one of the many nicknames I have for the object of my desires, rearranged me gracefully using his arms and legs. I got these nicknames from the pharaoh, since he was always naming his own light with the sweet titles. Ryou wrapped his arms around my waist and his legs around my thigh, pulling me close enough to see the golden, wispy strands of hair covering his skin.
I tensed with the closeness. I could smell the natural aroma of roses curling from him. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he drowned himself in a tub filled to the rim with attar made of the purest flowers from the afterlife. But I knew that the only thing he ever applied was plain smelling deodorant, shampoo, and conditioner. I wondered how he acquired such a sweet smell as the boy sleepily buried his forehead into my muscled chest. "But you're so warm," my light said, a slur hidden in his words, "Why would I ever let you go?"
I embedded my chin into the pale boy's cotton tresses. Another wave of defeat ran through my blood as I enveloped Ryou, his biceps caught in my hug. I softly traced the bumps where my lighter side's spine protruded from the otherwise tight, velvety skin. He was so cold. I could feel it through his tank top and from the exposed portions of his legs where his dark navy boxers didn't cover. Even so, I had to use all my strength not to lose control and start ripping off the little clothing we had on. Whoever said that coldness was not an aphrodisiac was a retarded bastard.
"Little one," I said after several moments. "We have to get up."
My hikari, another one of my nicknames, moaned annoyingly, shaking his head against my torso. He embraced me closer, accidentally rubbing his hips into my own. Or at least, I presume it was accidentally. Lately, he had been doing and saying pretty lecherous things toward me. Why, I had yet to figure out. "It's just Friday. No one will care if we're absent one day. Besides, I want to stay here with you, Bakura. You're like a big, warm teddy bear. Come on. It's our senior year and it's just one day. Please, Kura."
Damn this angelic boy. Damn him, and his 'Kura' card too. He knew perfectly well that that was one of my only, only, weaknesses. And the sly kid could abuse this power over me, like the playground bully who held a doll just out of reach of its owner. It was cruel of him, and he enjoyed using this weakness to control me.
With a force born from my tortured heart, I responded, "N-No. You have to wake up."
He whimpered, shortly afterwards inhaling my very masculine scent, or at least how Ryou described it. "Fine," he mumbled. "But you have to help me up." The fair light unraveled us. As I stood, I felt lonely and empty; missing that chill he gave me. I grabbed his slightly smaller hands, and jerked him off the white linen-covered mattress and onto his bare feet.
"You suck, Bakura. I hope you know that. Here I was, sleeping so peacefully and then, boom, you have to wake me up. Have you no shame? No guilt?" Ryou pouted his tender, pink lips. They held a perfect shape, and there seemed to be no wrinkled crease on them. How I wanted to claim these pink petals as mine. Oh, how I wanted to claim them, as I had done a night years ago.
Yes, for one night, these lips were mine. Not only that, but all of Ryou. I had the entire light at my mercy for one, unforgettable night. It had only been months after I was freed from the Sennen Ring, after having my soul imprisoned in the item for about three thousand years. I am sure it was not because everyone wanted me freed, like in the case of my fellow yami: Atemu, or as he was named in my time when he was a pharaoh. (Now, he was simply known as Yami to most, Atemu to only his closest friends.) My separation from the item was to keep me from inflicting any more harm on my lighter half's mind. I was put under Ryou's supervision, in his father's residence. His father, as an archeologist, was hardly around, and still only shows up for only a weekend every couple of months. (When he visits, I freeload off of Atemu. The man loved me, thinking of me as the boy's guardian due to how protective I am of him.)
Despite their initial expectations, Ryou's closest friends, seven of them at least, thought we were doing just fine. They were Joey, Seto, Yuugi, Otogi, Honda, Anzu and Serenity. Yuugi is the pharaoh's hikari. My light would hang out with them everyday during and after school, a smile always plastered on his face. He would probably tell them of how well I was doing and that I just didn't want to come to school.
I am sure that only one person, Atemu, had known the truth. He knew that Ryou would return to a home where a monster resided. That monster, obviously, was me. I would be high, off a drug my dealer said gave a good ride. Whether a pill, joint or needlepoint had induced my false euphoria, I honestly didn't give a damn. All I was concerned with was that it could temporarily make me forget my dark past. The needle scars and the occasional yearning for just one more trip are what are left to remind me of my habits. When he returned home from school, the drugs would have only begun to work. I usually reached my climax just after my sweet, little Ryou finished his homework. If he was lucky, I would lock myself in a room, waiting the rest of the trip off, alone.
If he were unlucky, I would find him in his room, sitting patiently on the desk chair for me. Even then, I loved him. I have always, always loved him. And when I would see his innocent, flawless eyes, the eyes I would never have for myself, I wanted to dim them for whoever stole my light's heart from me. I struck any part of him that would have been hidden under his clothes. Sometimes I used more than just my fists, hitting him with whatever I could lay my hands on. But alas, every time I entered his room, his chocolate orbs greeted me with the same amount of welcome.
I smiled softly, raising my left hand to Ryou's hair. I pushed one of his many bangs behind his ear. I thumbed his ear lobe, as well as several earrings. After his eyebrows knitted in confusion, I dragged my fingertips to those pink petals, stroking them once I reached them. During the few times I ever caught him shirtless, I knew he still had some noticeable scars. "Oh, I know what guilt is, my light. I know what guilt is." The words barely came out as a whisper, but even so, I could see they had a heavy effect on the other male in the room.
Then, one night, that one night, I went too far. My dealer, Keith, gave me some pills that he wanted his best customer to try, on the house. Muzion, he called them. It had great effects for everyone who had tried it so far. Unfortunately, I did not receive the desired high. My trip was the worst I had ever experienced. And when I entered the room, I forgot about robbing the happiness from his eyes. I decided that I was going to do what I wanted.
One of the most horrible sins one can commit is forcibly taking a person's virginity, this I discovered that night.
What made it worse was that, never once, did he tell me to stop. Nor did he attack me. He complied with my every demanding action, kissing me passionately back when I pressed my mouth to his. Ryou even arched his back when it was right to, screaming my name, and he came for me just before I did for him. It would have been perfect, if it had not been for the fact that I was raping him.
When I woke up the next morning, as far as I remember, his lithe body was still within my tired arms. I had slept with my head tucked into the curve of his ribcage. The sight of the nude teen had both exhilarated and disgusted me. We were both so young. And I knew it was one thing to abuse him as I had been doing (not that it was right), but it was another to force myself on him. Yet, Ryou was so beautiful, so thrilling to caress. I recall waiting until he had awakened to leave. There wasn't an exchange of words or glances or grumbles or weird, telling vibes. Once he woke up, I simply stood up and left quietly without ever looking into his eyes.
I had only one more trip, about a week later. When I stalked into his room, I expected to find him at his chair. I didn't. My pure half was lying without socks on his bed. His legs were bent and separated, like he was preparing for me to take him again. He had stopped wincing in pain or awkwardness every time he moved just the day before, and the boy probably wasn't anywhere near mentally ready. But he was still there, waiting. I climbed onto the bed and collapsed onto him. Ryou awkwardly went to kiss me, but I refused. I must have cried into his chest until I fell asleep. I would say that was my turning point.
My fingers dropped from his lips to my side. My hikari blushed regretfully. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."
The smile tugged at my lips. I leaned down a couple of inches, since he was only a bit shorter than me, and kissed Ryou on the forehead. "It's not your fault. Just get ready. You know I like being early." He nodded before quickly shooing me out of his room, calling for privacy.
I walked over to my own room, just down the hall from Ryou's. It was nowhere as neat as his, but I don't think the ever wonderful Elton John could get a room that clean. I opened my closet. With about a second of thought, I pulled out a pair of light black suit pants with thin, mauve stripes running down them and a plain, white t-shirt. From under the bed, I retrieved my checked black and white Vans. On both of my wrists I had ten black bands. I saw no need for a jacket. I took my shoulder bag, which held my school supplies and books for the day, and went to the kitchen.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a red apple from the fruit bowl. Scratching my neck absentmindedly, I went up in front of the sink and washed the fruit in hand. Though we may not be vegetarian, Ryou and I ate a lot like we were. The two of us ate red meat only once or twice a week, if even that.
Whimpering slightly, I thought of my previous diet, filled with bloody steaks and such. Curse my light, for making me eat healthy. The total unlikelihood that he would be able to do it was extremely high. The notion that he was able to convert me to his picky-eating ways is enough not to curse him.
I looked down at the running faucet and vocally expressed my thoughts by mumbling, "How the hell did he get me to give up my precious meat?"
"I played the infamous 'Kura' card. How else?" A voice said behind me, somewhere near the doorframe of this room. I laughed, turning off the sink and drying off the apple with a paper towel. I tossed the damp rectangle into the trash before finally turning to my light.
As I expected, he stood at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against its side. He wore low ridding, black jeans. A studded belt encircled the waist of the said jeans. Ryou had a fishnet, long sleeve shirt on, which hung off the shoulders. The sleeves did not end at the wrists. Instead, the top and bottom were connected in the space between his middle and index fingers. On top of this, he had a skin-tight, Indian red tank top. My hikari's favorite duo of shoes, his high-top, black Converses, adorned his feet.
I bit into the red peel, frowning as I chewed. "I always thought you knew about that evil trick. How could you use that against me, my innocent light? How could you?"
My opposite beamed. His lips were now painted black and his eyes were lined with kohl. He began dressing like this some time ago. When I had asked why (not that I was disappointed in the least bit), Ryou jokingly said he knew what I liked and wanted to look sexy for me. His true reasoning still eluded me. But he was right; I was much more attracted to him in this attire than his former sweater vest-blue jeans outfits. For a couple of seconds, I just let my eyes feed upon his gorgeous view. Only the small, rational voice in my head told me not to strip off his clothing and suck on his body until I couldn't anymore. Sadly, rationality won and I just walked up to him.
"I don't know. You just rubbed off on me. Speaking of rubbing, can you help me with my choker? I can't put it on tight enough and it keeps on slipping."
"How does rubbing have anything to do with a choker?"
The teen smiled wickedly. "Rubbing and chokers have all the relation in the world, Bakura, if you think hard enough. It's simply a matter of doing it. 'Doing it' and 'hard' being the operative words."
"I know. I'm just a walking riot. But no matter how amazing I am, being that I'm a walking riot and all, I cannot seem to put this choker on. May you help?"
I locked eyes with my hikari, admiring how black his makeup seemed against his ever so pale skin. "No. Tell me why I had to get stuck with the evil hikari and then I'll help you." I lifted my apple and sunk my teeth into it. The second I removed my mouth from it, I felt Ryou's hands take my hand and breakfast in its grasp.
His deep brown orbs shone brilliantly. "Please, Kura." He leant forward and toward his hands, his mouth sliding open into an o-shape. His now painted petals for lips pressed against the outside of my apple. There was a crunching sound. A stream of clear juice trickled down the curve of the apple and pooled at a joint in my finger. "Please."
Slowly, my light brought his head back up, his mouth moving back and forth in a gnawing movement. Some of the fruit's liquor erupted from the side of his lips. His tongue jetted out and licked up the excess juice. To top it off, he did it tantalizingly slow. I had half a mind to strangle him and his damn appealing actions. Well, if I am strangling things, I might as strangle my perverse mind.
"What?" Ryou asked innocently. "I was hungry. So, Kura dear, can you help me or will you just be a huge ass and not?"
Though I hated to fall right into his trap, I sighed, set down my apple and held out my empty hand. My hikari smirked, taking his choker from a back pocket and placed it in my palm. Turning, he picked up the ends of his tresses so I could have easy access. I properly put the necklace on, tight enough so it didn't fall, but loose enough so he could breathe and move comfortably.
"See. Was that so hard?"
Rolling my eyes, I picked my apple back up. "We are going to be late. Let us depart from our humble home, shall we?" I ambled past him, finishing my fruit as I did so. I opened the front door. The bright sunrays twirled into the house. Ignoring them, I went across the path bisecting the lawn to my motorcycle. My bike was painted pure ebony. Damn. I really do have too many dark colored things.
Tossing the now eaten apple into an open-lid garbage can, I fished around for the keys of the vehicle in my bag. Finding them, I took them out before getting onto my bike. Sighing emptily, I turned to the front door just as Ryou closed it. He had his checkered backpack clinging onto one shoulder.
Combing my hair with my fingers instinctually, I called out, "Come on, Ryou! You move so damn slow!" He laughed his entrancing laugh, something close to the child of a giggle and a gasp.
He sped over to the motorcycle and hopped on behind me. His cold hands landed on my hips, over the pants but below the shirt. My light, pushing with his palm, guided his fingers to my inner thighs. Using his thumbs, he rubbed some circles into the fabric of my pants. My pale knuckle curved tightly over the bike's handle.
Ryou leaned forward, so his chest was pressed up against my back and my shoulder supported his chin. Blowing into my ear, my smaller self cooed, "I'll go faster if you like. Just give me the word and I'll go faster." The thumbs working circles went to their job with more force and speed.
I loved this. There was no use denying it. I was enjoying this. But then, that retarded rational part of me told me what this truly was. This little thing was just Ryou's game. He saw nothing in me. Therefore, this whole performance was just a performance. Nothing more. With regret burning my insides, I said, "Stop playing around, little one. And, please, just, don't do that again."
He froze, midway circle. With a short-lived sigh, he brought his hands to my stomach, over the shirt, and distanced his abdomen appropriately. After my hikari slid his forehead to the small of my neck, I finally jarred up the motorcycle and turned it to the direction of the school.
A/N: Hey! First chapter is done, only a couple more to go. (Remember, this is a short story). Anyways, I know I kinda mutilated Ryou's overall appearance. But it's for good reason. Those sweater-vests were doing him no good, and I do think Bakura would be more attracted to him dressed in this way. Just remember that people do worst things than what I just did. Just read on and enjoy.