Summary: Darkshipping, PWP. Sometimes Yami wondered why he kept coming back…
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh
Pairings: Bakura/Yami
Warnings: Yaoi porn
Disclaimer: I'd say I at least own the plot, but there really isn't one.
Author's Note: I've spent weeks attempting to write a halfway decent lemon…and then I sit down to write one night and this just comes out. I've finally found my lemon-muse – I'm so happy!

Today had already been a pretty shitty day. Not anything spectacular – just life conspiring against me as usual. I'd gotten into another fight with Marik…and the last thing I needed right now was Bakura.

Or at least that's what everyone else thinks, the image we both try to give. Because in reality he's exactly what I need right now. I know the look in his eyes when he walks up to me; I know exactly what he's thinking. Just like he knows I'll follow him when he walks to a cheap, sleazy motel on the edge of town. Just like the receptionist smirks at us as she hands the keys over – he isn't exactly being very fucking subtle.

We had barely stepped into the room when he shoved me up against the wall and kissed me almost violently, and I responded with equal ferocity and naked desperation. The direct approach is favoured here, and he doesn't waste any time in pushing me back onto the bed. Clothes are gone in a matter of seconds, practiced hands making short work of the various buckles and zips. Don't talk to me about love or any of your other naïve preconceptions – this is pure animal lust.

I moaned at the touch of skin on skin, arching off the bed and silently pleading for more. He bit down on my neck and I cried out, almost painfully hard as his hands moved over my body, touching me everywhere but where I needed the touch most. It wasn't until too late I realised my hands were pinned above my head, and I moaned in protest as he stopped.

"Go on Pharaoh," he purred, trademark evil smirk in place; "Tell me you want me."
"Ah…damn it, you know I do."
"Oh, I know it," he breathed, and I shivered as his lips brushed my neck; "But I want to hear you say it."
"Bastard," I said. He was taking shameless advantage of the position I was in, the sadist that he is.
"Beg for it if you want it." I cried out wordlessly as he ground his hips into mine, and the last remnants of my resolve – along with my already failing pride – disappeared.
"Ah! Oh Ra, please, I'll do whatever you want, just don't fucking stop!"
"Close enough."

And that was it. No preparation, no warning. I screamed in an exquisitely torturous ecstasy of pleasure and pain as he thrust inside me. The sadistic bastard knows he's hurting me, and he gets off on it. The same way I keep coming back for more because I'm a fucking idiot. And it's worth all the blood and tears and humiliation for some reason. I don't know exactly why. Perhaps I never will. But no-one else can make me lose control like this, no-one else has ever heard me moan and scream and beg for more like this. Perhaps that's reason enough.

No mercy is expected and none is given in animalistic sex so rough and brutal it would be rape if I didn't need it so fucking badly. As the pain fades away, I hear whimpers and moans I wasn't even aware of making. I see fireworks behind my eyes, and I throw back my head and scream his name as I know pure nirvana in the cathartic moment where agony and ecstasy meet and become one.

He collapsed on the bed beside me, spent, and pain began to make itself known again as the afterglow of pleasure faded. I'll be limping tomorrow, and if anyone asks me about it I'll just make up some lie like I always do. This isn't the first time I've been stupid enough to give in to him, and it won't be the last either. He wrapped a possessive arm around my waist, free hand tracing the bruise on my cheek, a memento of the fight earlier.

"I'm going to kill Marik," he muttered.
"He hurt you."
"Why do you care?" I said a little bitterly; "Oh no, I forgot – hurting me is your exclusive right."

I'm not sure what sort of response I expected. Laughter, most probably. What I didn't expect was the momentary flicker in his eyes when for a second he seemed genuinely offended. And then of course he laughed it off like I expected him to, like he knows I expected him to.

But then when we're both close to sleep, the arms wrapped around me are perhaps a little more protective than possessive, the touch a little softer than I'm used to. And I finally realise that it's for moments like this I keep coming back.