A/N: Once upon a forum drabble party request: Diamondshipping. (Yami no Malik x Yami no Bakura x Mai Kujaku) Setting: Hostage crisis. I delivered, with a promise to wrap it up eventually. So here goes a lot of the hostage, not so much on the crisis.
Warnings: Mature content.
Disclaimer: Kazuki Takahashi and all associated companies are the rightful owners of the Yuugiou! franchise and I claim no association with any of them. No copyright infringement intended with this and no money is being made from this. Please support the creator by purchasing the official releases.
Only For The Night
Robbing casinos was easy. She had worked as a dealer for long enough to learn all the tips and tricks, to find out ways the system could be cheated without anyone suspecting a thing. It didn't matter which country she visited, the system was always the same. Most importantly, she knew when to stop. This had led to successful several years and a carefree life. And now she was being followed. She'd noticed the hooded figure trailing her a few days ago and now it was back again. Mai picked up her pace, turning a corner, then another one. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could no longer see him and took a relieved breath. It was short lived though, because when she turned back, there was a man standing directly in her path right where the lights of the nearby lampposts didn't reach. She faltered in her step, doing a mental check on the contents of her handbag. Taser, pepper spray, five thousand victory money and a dark alley - the perfect set-up for a cheap action flick with slasher movie elements. Except that she was fairly sure Jean-Claude Magnum wasn't going to swoop in to save the day - not that she'd want that complete joke anywhere near her.
Deciding to not tempt her fate any further, she turned to slip into the passageway between the houses, but ended up staring at a solid wall. She knew this area well, she'd walked here several times before, but suddenly it seemed completely foreign to her. She retraced her steps mentally just to make sure she hadn't made a wrong turn somewhere, but no, she was exactly where she thought she was, sans the fact it looked nothing like it should. The figure ahead slowly stepped out of the shadows and into the circle of light. He had wild sandy blonde hair, dark skin and a dark coat - with or without a hood, she couldn't tell.
"In a hurry, dear?" he leered.
"Look, I have no idea what you want, but..."
"You can lie better," he interrupted and laughed. It was a short, rasping laughter. Mocking her. "I've seen you at a poker table. You're a lovely actress."
Mai clutched her bag a little tighter. This was getting serious in the completely wrong direction. "Who are you? With the casino? I assure you, I won that game fair and square."
"Oh, I don't know about that. See, we're a bit of professionals too."
"We?" she echoed in confusion.
"We," said a rough voice right next to her ear, making her jump and jerk away from the source of the sound. He'd appeared out of nowhere, crept up to her without her even noticing it.
In the next moment the weight of her handbag disappeared. When she looked down, she saw only the straps of her bag and a shallow cut on her arm. This other man with long blonde hair - so blonde they were white - had appeared out of nowhere. Out of the corner of her eye she caught him casually folding his knife and sliding it into his pocket as he strode past her with her bag in hand. The cut on her arm, though blood was already seeping from it, had yet to start hurting; he'd been incredibly swift with that blade. She blinked and, while they dug through her bag, seized her chance.
"Keep the money," she muttered hastily, taking a step back, intent on getting away.
"And where do you think you're going?" the newcomer inquired, regarding her with a nasty smirk over his shoulder.
"You just... keep the money, and I'll go, okay? Nobody has to get hurt here."
Since it didn't look like they were going to chase after her immediately, she turned around to make a run for it... and almost crashed face first into a wall. She blinked in confusion and growing fear. This wasn't right. There had to be a street. Reaching out in disbelief, hoping that this was some sort of a hologram, she touched the wall and felt cold stone. The laughter behind her made her skin crawl.
"We're not done yet." She didn't have to look to know that it was the dark-skinned man talking. "Aw, look at that," he mocked, holding up the can of pepper spray, "weapons."
The can clattered somewhere on the asphalt and rolled away. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face them again.
"What do you want?" she tried to demand, but her voice wavered and it came out rather choked. She hadn't realised she was still holding the straps as if they were a lifeline.
Her bag had been relieved of its most valuable contents and was carelessly tossed aside. The taser now rested in Mālik's pocket and the money was safe with Bakura to be split evenly between them later. They exchanged glances and turned towards her.
"To strike you a deal," Mālik grinned, approaching her with swift steps and making her back up against the wall.
The stone was cold behind her back, and unyielding. "What kind of deal?"
"Equal partnership." Bakura bared his teeth in a grin, making it quite clear that there would be nothing equal about it. He reached out to pry the straps out of her clenched fingers, ridding her of her last perceived weapon. "You keep stealing, we keep stealing, and everyone's happy."
"You can't say no," Mālik warned, casually leaning against the wall on her right and running one finger down the length of her arm. He leaned forward to nuzzle against her ear and whispered, "You don't want to say no."
She wanted to, but something sealed her lips, something made her tongue twist and become heavy. She wouldn't have been able to utter a sound if her life depended on it. Wide-eyed, she watched how the knife appeared in Bakura's hand, how he expertly cut the leather straps in half and tied them together, making a short rope. He brushed her cheek with its coil and smiled.
"Let's have some fun now."
: : :
They never hurt her in earnest, never left bruises where they could be seen, where she couldn't cover them up. They wanted her in one piece; they wanted her active and useful. She felt as though she was a doll to them. One which they took down from the high shelf and played with to their heart's content and, once done, put her back up on her perch till the next time they'd need her. They cleaned her up meticulously, removing all trace of their presence from her and her apartment. They did all of it with such frightening familiarity and skill that she was often left wondering what else they did when they weren't stalking her and cashing in her wins. She learned that soon enough, being a rather accidental witness to the end of another accidental witness who'd seen them overtake her. The poor sod had thought he was coming to her aid…
Mai opened her mouth to scream in shock, but Mālik's hand covered it. She jerked away from the touch, startled and wild-eyed, but he only tightened his grip, pulling her back against his chest. Whatever he whispered in her ear sent shivers down her spine and made her unable to look away from where Bakura dealt swiftly with the guy who'd decided to interfere in what he'd correctly perceived as two men ganging up on a helpless woman. Bakura's knife-work was – no other name for it – perfection. The guy was dead before he even realised what hit him, a neat deep cut across his neck. It might have been just a trick of the shadows, but it looked to her like Bakura licked the blade afterwards. He turned towards her with a sharp-toothed grin.
Mai must have been in shock from the sight because she couldn't remember how they'd made it back to her apartment – always hers, never theirs. They came and went through her life like ghosts and sometimes she would lie awake in the dead of the night and try to figure out whether they were real or just figments of her imagination. She would have believed she was dreaming them up if her body wouldn't ache with the aftermath of their visits.
She came to her senses in the doorway to her bedroom. She'd already lost half of her clothing and Mālik was currently working her bra open.
"No," she gasped, recoiling and drawing back. They were murderers. She had just seen them kill an innocent bystander. She had to get away, she had to… "No."
His hands shot up, gripped her face firmly and turned it towards him. He caught her gaze and held it and when he spoke, he said one word only, "Yes."
It soaked into her, seeped deep into her bones, right down to the marrow, and just like that, her mind turned. Not slow like a turning tide, but rather swift like a piece of sod flipped over by the shovel of a gardener. 'No' to 'yes', 'stop' to 'more', 'get out' to 'take me'. She found herself echoing him, wanting him and his touch and every moment of this. Her mind was a carousel of thoughts and she no longer knew which were hers and which – his.
Mālik made quick work of her bra and by the time he pushed her down onto the bed, Bakura joined them, just out of shower where he'd washed away the blood that had gotten spilled on his clothes. His hands were on her almost the moment the mattress dipped under his weight. Mālik's breath was hot on her neck and she leaned her head back, wordlessly asking for more. One Bakura's hand – skilled with more than knives – tangled in her hair while the other worked its way into her panties. He chuckled when she jerked away from the latter, though with Mālik on her other side, she didn't get very far. She moaned in what was supposed to be a protest, but her own mind was playing tricks on her, making her yield.
She moved like a puppet on strings; doing what they told her to do, turning the way they wanted her to, aware of everything that was happening, but unaware of her own unwillingness to participate in it. She moaned for their touch, pleaded for her release, for faster, harder, more. She gasped and shuddered when Mālik whispered a command in her ear, his voice low and hypnotising, tangling her in a web of confusion and desire. When her mind resisted the intrusion and her body stalled in accordance with it, Bakura pushed her down, pulled her up or made her turn around without giving her a chance to formulate a coherent thought of protest. She still ended up enjoying every second; every touch, every kiss, every languid stroke and impatient brush of fingers on her sensitive skin. She yearned for their rough movements in the heat of the act; for the way Mālik pulled her hair back, making her feel like her neck would snap if he tugged just one more inch and fear for her life, though it was a dulled fear, partially lost in her desire-clouded mind. She begged for the way Bakura's fingers slipped inside her and made her writhe, half in pain, half in lust; for the way he pinned her down to the bed and took her without restraint. She cried out when release tore through her, her voice rising in a broken keen and she succumbed to the dreamless darkness that follower afterwards. Always, without fail.
When the morning came, they were gone and she was alone in a perfectly empty apartment, her mind in greater disarray than her bed. They walked through her life like ghosts, belonging to the night and leaving her the daylight, though she found no great relief in the sunlight. It only reminded her more strongly of the inevitably approaching darkness.