Author's Note: Before we proceed I would like to thank Kimmie -- whose support, advice and friendship have been invaluable to me -- for all her help with the story.

The story takes place after the Battle City arc, soon after Malik departs and is based on the anime. I am often referring to Yami Yugi as just 'Yami' and to Yami Bakura as 'Bakura'. I've noticed that in the anime they are always referred to as 'Yugi' and 'Bakura', so that explains the latter, at least. The reason I use 'Yami' instead of 'Yugi' is... you guessed it: to make it less confusing whom I'm referring to. This is not in any way meant to support the Dub's idea to call him simply 'Yami'. However if I had him refer to himself as 'nameless Pharaoh' all the time this would not be the fic it is. In fact, I'd probably have to change the gender to 'Horror' or 'Tragedy' owing to the obviously unstable psyche of the main character.

The story contains graphical description of sexual acts between two males.

If you go on and have any comments, they are more than welcome in my mailbox by way of a review. I appreciate your feedback on this story.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
                                                   -- ee cummings

It started simply enough.

Two spirits, away from the real world and the mundane days of average teenage life, acting on boredom and deep-seated confidence in victory. Also arrogance and a wish to spite each other.

They transferred the game over to the Shadow Realm, where a small lone table materialized inside the darkness. It appeared out of nowhere, but in here it was as real as anything ever was because Yami wanted it to be so. Smell, sound, touch, sight, taste were all real as long as he wanted them to be, here inside the Millennium Puzzle where he was the master.

Yami Bakura was certain he would win this duel. No pesky mortals to intervene, no hosts trying to take over their own bodies, none of the outside interferences mucking things up. No God cards.

While he'd had to stay inside the Millennium Puzzle, Bakura had grown antsy. Now that the Millennium Ring was also in Yugi's possession the only way to survive for a prolonged period of time was to continue sharing space with the Pharaoh or win the Ring back. Bakura didn't like to share. More importantly, he had nothing to lose.

Opposite him, Yami Yugi was certain of the outcome. He, of course, did not believe for a second Bakura would not try to trick him during the duel. And as long as he stayed alert and noticed that moment, he could not lose. The rules of the Shadow Game were simple enough afterwards.

After his victory over Malik, once the Ring was in Yugi's possession, Yami had worried that Bakura would try to eliminate Yami's host to get it back. Being challenged had lifted a huge weight of paranoid anticipation off of his shoulders. At least it was a direct dispute of ownership, and it was directed at him. When it was just the two of them he didn't risk losing anyone. Plus, when he dueled he didn't have to think about the past and that always felt better than the alternative.

They threw a dice for who went first, and Yami won, with Bakura's obligatory commentary that this win will be his last. They settled on their respective stools, opposite each other and began the duel. It was very simple.

Anzu was a girl, and a cute girl at that, which was why she wielded such power over Yugi Motou. It had taken approximately two minutes of fast-talking and five seconds of eyelash batting for him to surrender to the inevitable. He was going to baby-sit those kids, whether he wanted to or not.

Anzu's mother's sister's daughter's children, two of them to be precise, were no angels, but they were not inherently evil, Yugi thought. They were just energetic for three year olds. Very energetic, Yugi said to himself, as he pulled one of the little 'bundles of joy' away from the balcony.

"Extremely energetic," he muttered as he ran to where the other one was falling into a bathtub full of water.

Yugi wiped sweat off his brow and gathered the boy in his arms, carrying him over to where his sister Hikari lay on the floor, giggling up at the ceiling fan. He settled them both down, and flopped down on the floor himself, feeling like he'd just ran a marathon. It was time to call in reinforcements. Yugi reached for the nearby phone and dialed the familiar number.

" 'ello?"

Yugi started talking, even as he pressed down on the edge of Hikari's jumper to keep her from crawling off. "Hi Jounouchi, it's me, Yugi."

Jounouchi's voice instantly became friendlier. "Hello, Yugi!"

"Are you busy by any chance?"

It took Yugi three minutes of fast-talking and two mentions of friendship before Jounouchi gave in to the inevitable.

"Alright, Yugi. I'm coming over."

Yugi thanked him gratefully and they disconnected. He looked over to the children, who in the absence of attention settled quietly down on the carpet and sighed. He eased his body down and watched them lie there. They were sort of sweet when they weren't crawling off to parts unknown. He could close his eyes for a second, and they'd still be here when he opened them. Yugi closed his eyes.

He was asleep in two minutes.

One of the children slowly sidled closer and blinked chocolate eyes curiously at the shiny golden object tied to their baby-sitter's neck. One curious finger slowly reached out to poke at the shiny pyramid-shaped toy.

On some level, seeing Bakura's Dark Necrophilia frightened Yami. It was alright to face when the opponent wasn't wielder of the Shadow powers, but quite another story when he was. The Shadow Realm they were in gave the beings that extra luster and shine that rendered them almost indistinguishable from the living (or, as the case with Dark Necrophilia may be, the deader-than-dead) monsters Yami could not remember but somehow just knew from his past life.

Bakura's whole deck was made to make people's skins crawl, the effect of each monster as grotesque as it was lethal. Yami had just managed to send the Great Mammoth of Goldfine to the Graveyard, just soon enough to stop it from completely obliterating Yami's hand, when Bakura summoned the dreaded Oujah Board. Yami remembered coming close to losing and calculated the odds of a duelist like Bakura depending on the same strategy again.

Yami Yugi almost regretted foregoing the God cards, but at the last moment reminded himself of the amplifying power of the Shadow Realm. Surely, he didn't want to release a God here. Also, they only bet on the cards currently in the deck, and Yami intended to keep the three cards that were one of his few links to retrieving his memories.

He returned his attention to the game, confident, but not relaxed.

"Are you tired, Pharaoh?" Yami Bakura taunted, smirk avid on his face.

"Who wouldn't tire of your endless comments." Yami returned, not looking up from the cards in his hand. Beta the Magnet Warrior, but no Alpha or Gamma on the field; Graceful Charity, Big Shield Gardna.

He played Big Shield Gardna in defense mode.

Yami Bakura's lips stretched into a bigger and better smirk. He was positively glowing with his perceived victory. Almost gently, he ordered the one card he had face down on the field to turn flip summon. Seconds late the miniature version of Man-Eater Bug swallowed the Big Shield Gardna whole and found it crunchy. Yami watched with some fascination for Bakura's next move.

Yami Bakura drew the 'D' of 'DEATH', and played Confiscation, which tore through Yami's deck eliminating Beta Warrior to the graveyard; but at least Bakura didn't have any monsters to summon. Yami could go on for one more turn waiting for the several cards he was knew would bring him victory.

He pulled a card from the deck -- it was a Kuriboh. Then, under the effect of Graceful Charity he pulled two more cards and looked at them, one in particular filling his chest with growing excitement of a plan. As per rules, Yami discarded two of the cards.

He lifted his eyes slowly up to Bakura, who was beginning to guess that Yami pulled a card necessary to overthrow his control of the game. Bakura was staring at the one card in Yami's hand with growing unease and a disappearing smile. Yami watched as the long lashes lowered to cover the emotion in his eyes. He flipped the single card over, slowly. "Dead A-"

He felt a knife slice through him and gasped, clutching at his chest, where the burning spread like wildfire.

Through the remainder of his pain, he half-sensed Yami Bakura jump up, and tower over him. He hadn't seen a knife in Bakura's hand. If a knife could even hurt him, here in his realm. But-- He looked down on his chest, expecting to see a tear, blood, burning skin, something that would feel like being torn apart, and saw only the edges of the stool he sat on, barely visible through his own body. A minute ago he had been a solid presence.

Strong hands grabbed his jacket, pulling him up, even as another wave of hot burning, like coals pressed to exposed skin, rolled over his body, knocking the breath out of him. He shuddered helplessly, eyes covered in a sheen of tears.

"What the fuck is happening to you?" Bakura shouted in his face, incredulous and shaking him like a rag doll.

Yami looked up at the other spirit, blinking rapidly in sudden comprehension, and collapsed backwards sliding like water through Bakura's arms, dissolving into thin air.

He was not aware of Bakura's hands going through the spot in the air where he had existed moments ago, in a vain attempt to recapture his spirit.

Two seconds later, Yami fell into the body of his host, awareness returning without even the echo of pain. But the memory remained. He lifted his head from the floor, only to see Jounouchi and two kids on the floor, one of his friend's arms warding off the children from coming closer, the other settled on the Millennium Puzzle, as though he'd just pushed the final piece of it back into place. Yami stared at the item in detached horror. That had been close. Before relinquishing control to Yugi, he settled his head (Yugi's head) back down on the floor, sweating from shock, and gathering the Millennium item closer with one shaky hand.

"Damn, Yugi, I just got here as this little one was pulling the Puzzle apart." Jounouchi told him face etched with worry. His hand patted the puzzle slightly the way one would try to calm someone down.

After Yugi was calm again and when Yami was back inside the soul room, he looked down at the Puzzle in his hands. It looked bold and glamorous, sure, but of the seven Millennium Objects it was probably the easiest to break. One needed only to remove certain pieces...

He sighed. He had very mixed feelings about the object that contained his spirit. It brought so much pain into Yugi's life. But it had brought good things too: friendship, courage and purpose.

Into his life it brought existence in dark confinement, but knowing Yugi had been worth it, so he wasn't thinking about it.

Now, after the trials of the Battle City he was more than ever convinced of the importance of his existence. He was observing pieces falling into place. (And he was aware of the strong concept of irony in the situation.) Yugi now held all three of the God cards, and four out of seven of the Millennium Items. Only Shadi remained in possession of two more. Well, not counting Pegasus' Millennium Eye that disappeared to parts unknown. And discounting Yami Bakura's uncomfortable presence in the Puzzle. That one was impossible to miss.

Yami wondered, almost anticipated, how long it would take for Bakura to seek him out after their aborted duel. He had dropped his last card on his turn thus forfeiting the duel, but there had been outside interference. Even if Bakura tried, he couldn't honestly claim Yami cheated to get a tie.

Either way, even if Yami won it would accomplish little. He couldn't even remember his name, let alone banish Bakura's presence from either the Ring or the Puzzle for good. Bakura always seemed to find a way back -- and damned if Yami had any idea how, or knew whether it worked for all of the Item bearers. For now it was clear that if Bakura were to leave, he would leave of his own will. And if he never did, then Yami had no choice but to bear his continuous presence for as long as he existed in the Puzzle himself.

They would never be comfortable neighbours.

Yami sighed again at the inevitability of the confrontation, and continued walking through the dark labyrinths of the puzzle. When he first saw the outline of Bakura's figure, leaning casually as-you-please on one of the old staircases, he couldn't hold back a slight involuntary wince.

They maintained silence while Yami came closer, then Yami Bakura said, sharp canine teeth bared as his lips pulled back to form a grin, "Have I come close to discovering a real room in this place, Pharaoh?"

Yami frowned. He would never let Bakura come anywhere close to Yugi's room, and there was not even a question about Bakura finding his. Looking to the side, he concentrated, then looked back to Bakura who had jumped forward away from the wall that suddenly wasn't there. The wall he had been leaning against was now an arched stairway. Yami met Bakura's dark gaze impassively with his own.

"I understand." Bakura replied. "But this, like your other traps will be ineffective against me. You forget who I am."

"I forget nothing, Tomb Robber," he shot back before what he realized what a complete lie that was.

Yami Bakura laughed, and asked with faked sincerity, "Oh?" He continued to chuckle harshly as Yami couldn't keep frustration out of his expression entirely. "Then you remember what you owe me." His eyes seemed to darken.

"We were interrupted," Yami tried to speak calmly, "we can duel again."

Bakura's brows drew together. Pointedly, "If you have no other business to attend to."

"Bakura, we were interrupted."

"So I heard." Bakura looked about and seemed to decide this space in the alcove between stairs was as good as any to resume the duel because he reached for his deck. With a movement of his hand Yami stopped him. Yami almost reached to guide him by placing a hand on Bakura's upper arm, but realized what he was doing just in time to completely abort the gesture. Touching him would probably have felt too odd for both of them.

"There are better places." He walked up the very staircase he'd just created and trusted that Bakura would follow.

Bakura asked, curiosity in his voice, "Will it be a real room?"

"As real as it needs to be." Yami replied, knowing he disappointed the thief.

"Are you afraid to let me see it?"

Yami considered this, and decided that he wasn't. Neither was he that careless. "An illusion will do for the likes of you." He replied, enjoying the soft snarl from Bakura at his response.

The next words came out hissed. "Careful, Pharaoh. You might give the impression of inhospitality."

"Guests who arrive uninvited tempt fate, Bakura." His reply was sharp. And Yami placed a hand against the smooth unpolished wood of a door they were now facing. Yami concentrated again, before pushing it open. Inside was an airy room with curtain-draped windows, two chairs and a low table. Spartan conditions, but they didn't need much.

He felt cool breath ghost over his cheek as Bakura walked by, over to the table and looked at it, snorting when his eyes fell on one of the objects. "To the last detail." He picked up what Yami could see was a pen, and twirled it between his fingers. "You have unnecessary attachment to your host's world."

Yami was not going to discuss the fascinating things that Yugi's world had in such abundance they made Yami feel overwhelmed, at times. Presently, Bakura sat on one of the chairs and tapped several fingers against his other arm, impatiently, waiting to be joined for a duel.

"Their world is fleeting." Bakura eyed him over the cards. "One moment and it's changed forever. Why do you embrace it so readily when the reality is what you and I live in?"

"Do you mean the reality is existence in Millennium Items?"

Bakura almost shuddered, before he visibly composed himself. "That is a curse." He looked over at Yami again, assessing him. "Your life has stretched out into millennia, when it should have been over long ago. The lifespan of mortals is only a moment. That is reality."

"That's not the reality we live in now."

"There is no 'we' between us."

It was frustrating to just talk to him. "Fine, that's not how I live now. Yugi is not just my host -- he is my friend as well."

"For how long?"

"You sound convinced that the future means an end."

Bakura's eyes darkened further. "I am and so are you."

"I will face the future in either case." Yami granted, then added because he knew it would needle, "If you're so concerned about me."

"We are not talking about me. Your friends mean nothing to me, and I am not very close to my host even though I must care for his well-being. It's you who will let them drag you down into death with them, Pharaoh."

Yami remained silent. How do you explain to someone what it is like to love, to have feelings of friendship? Why it made so many things worth it? Even not having all the time in the world. Even having it.

"I won't defend my actions to you, Bakura." He looked down at his hand. They hadn't played a single card yet.

"Means nothing to me. But uncovering your weaknesses should not distract us from the game." He ran his eyes over the cards in his hand again, as though seeing them for the first time.

"They are not my weakness. Quite the contrary." Yami responded, also forcing his attention back on the game.

"What are they then? What is little Yugi to you? You protect him so fervently. You have to shield him even from yourself."

"You are very curious. Play!" He spoke roughly.

Suddenly, Bakura set the cards down on the table.

"I forfeit."

"Excuse me?"

"There is no point to this game. I do not care if I win or lose."

Nonplussed, Yami set back in his chair, lowering his cards down to his lap. He felt a tightening in his stomach, the general alarm going off in his head exciting him.

"Don't look at me like that." Yami Bakura sounded almost annoyed, but any trace of possible annoyance disappeared by the time Yami started to notice it. Now he sat back, stretching, and stuck one leg out so the ankle lay on the other knee looking carelessly desirable. "I do not need to play you now; there'll be other chances."

"I assumed the purpose of this--"

"You were wrong," Bakura said simply. "That is certainly not a first."

"Are you intentionally trying to frustrate me?" Yami stood up, unable to bear sitting in such close quarters with him.

"Is that what I'm doing?" Bakura asked back, and Yami was sure he was being laughed at.

"That's my question."

"I came here to win the Ring back," Sensing Bakura wasn't done Yami raised an eyebrow. "But as I looked at you I thought of many things, and none of them had anything to do with the Ring."

"I don't know what you mean."

Bakura suddenly stood, turning away sharply, while Yami watched warily on. "I forfeited!"

Bemused, Yami wondered if Bakura was finally cracking. "What is the matter with you?" Having said it, he immediately wanted to take the words back.

"Nothing."

"It's not like you to give up."

"What do you know?" The head was tilted to the side, as though Bakura was almost on the verge of turning to face him.

Yami blew bangs away from his face with a frustrated breath.

Bakura turned around and just looked at him.

There was nothing outwardly wrong, but something sharp-edged was in those eyes and there was an odd twist to his lips that spoke of some great deficiency. As though Yami Bakura powerfully wanted something he could never have.

They spoke at once:

"Damn you--"
"Are you alright--"

And both fell silent.

Yami's chest felt tight, but not because of what Bakura said. Because he'd been hopeful for a moment that something wasn't alright. And he didn't know why.

It was darker in the room now, as though their combined presences were swallowing up all the light. Yami wanted to go up to Bakura and put a hand on his shoulder, shake him, tell him to come to his sense and stop this enmity between them now. Nothing could be done though, it would play itself out. A few months of hate were enough to bring back millennia of it, enough hatred to swallow up the world, or to bind souls to a piece of metal. It seemed so to Yami from watching Bakura's actions. But the Pharaoh could not piece these vague impressions into any kind of a coherent picture. He remained adrift. He remembered nothing.

It was just as well to keep talking, unless he wanted them to stare at each other forever. "How long are you planning to stay here, if you don't intend to duel for the Ring?"

Faced with the question, Bakura turned and walked away from their table, father into the recesses of the room, where he was partially covered in shadows. "As long as I must."

"Bakura--"

Nastily, "You can't do a goddamned thing about it."

Discounting sending him to the Shadow Realm, yes. And as long as Bakura refused to duel Yami could hardly force him. Suddenly, he had a suspicion that the forfeit earlier was not done solely to aggravate him. Maybe the tomb robber couldn't come back if Yami Yugi threw him out now. He was surprised at how conflicted the thought made him feel. A part of him soared hopefully, eager to be done with the other spirit, and the rest of him immediately questioned that desire. Did he want to get rid of Bakura because it was for the best, or was it a selfish wish? Was he naturally inclined to choose to send a soul to the Shadow Realm, or did he want justice for the past wrongs Bakura had done to him and his friends? Yami realized how far he'd come since waking up, and more importantly since he had started to talk to Yugi more and to trust him. Before he would never have questioned himself at all. Never would have considered leaving Bakura be so they could perhaps find niches in this place that did not intrude on each other's interests. Yet, something intrinsic in him rebelled at the idea that Yugi's caring would be what saved Yami Bakura who had hurt Yugi in the past so many times. It was so unfair.

"Are you sure about that?" Was all he said in the end.

For a second, from the look in Bakura's eyes, Yami thought he might answer with, "Try it."

Instead, Bakura said, "I'm leaving," apparently giving up on the conversation. He gave of the air of someone completely misunderstood as he moved purposefully to the room's door. Yami didn't have the heart to ask what he was thinking, which was, "Permanently?"

As the tomb-robber strode past him to get out, Yami reached out and grabbed him by the cuff, saying, out of nowhere he could think of, "Where?" A second later he regretted both the movement and the word, but it was too late. This close, and at the same eye level, their eyes met and clashed. Yami wondered if he wanted Bakura to stay with him, even if they didn't talk at all.

A fleeting look of something passed over Bakura's features. Yami was pretty good at reading people most of the time -- a natural skill that he never hesitated to use as a tool -- but the expression was gone from the blond's face so quickly Yami only had time to realize it was there. And the idea, the possibility of what it had been rendered him breathless for the next several seconds.

It was enough; time blurred around the edges. He was holding onto Yami Bakura's cuff, and there was a breadth of air between them. Then less. Bakura's breath tickled his nose, and with that, accompanied by a surge of wonder sweeping through his chest, Bakura's lips caressed his own.

Electric shock shot up his spine, the surprise mixing with confused acceptance, and his heart began to hammer in his chest. The lips were not removed -- he didn't want them removed. They were warm; Yami was still aware of his hand on a part of Bakura's clothes, slipping steadily to hold on to his arm more firmly, but the sensation was growing more and more distant. There was pressure on both sides of his body, and he found the clasp of Bakura's hands almost reassuring. He leaned forward so their lips locked more fully.

There was a minute when the only sound was their labored breathing and the soft sound of wet lips slipping against each other. When Yami finally tilted his face to the side, so their kiss ended, he found that he had to reopen his eyes. The brown of Bakura's eyes was almost completely swallowed up by the dilated pupils, rendering him weak as it set off fireworks behind his ribcage.

"I don't know what--" Bakura started and stopped when Yami's palm rested on his shoulder.

Yami wished he could speak, but the emotions that had been merely confusing half an hour ago were now tangled up in an unbearable jumbled knot, and all he could hope for was some sort of understanding from Bakura. Or at least time to untwist the snarled mess. Whatever it was he got, came in the form of another light brush of lips against his own as Bakura's eyes slid shut.

It tasted like a welcome.

He tried to keep all of his feelings from showing up in the kiss, but in the end he ended up keeping only the confusion at bay. He discovered how rough Bakura's lips were as he reached for more, probing Bakura's mouth with his tongue, in a series of kisses that left them gasping and drawing up closer against each other.

Light-headed now, and startled at how much contact his body was suddenly getting, Yami pulled away, leaving Bakura who appeared to be just as shocked staring at him with tension written into his smooth face. Yami had not been touched this much for as long as he could remember, since not even Yugi's hands could ever touch his non-corporeal form. Touch had only been possible when he was controlling Yugi's body, and even then it was Yugi's hands, arms, face that received the contact, it was never Yami's. But whatever he and Bakura were, they were the same and that allowed them something Yami had thought forbidden.

Now, with touch alone they surprised each other into something akin to wonder. He was certain Bakura's feelings on the matter were similar, if not the same.

Breathing in the natural musk from the sweat breaking out on both of their bodies, Yami took Bakura's hand firmly, marveling at the soft textured feeling of the skin he never thought to touch so intimately, and placed it around his waist. As he was putting one of his own hands, fingers splayed out, right on Bakura's chest, where the heart was, Bakura drew in a breath and shifted closer in a slow motion.

The hand on his back pressed his torso forward, until they were flush against each other. Bakura eyes returned from where they strayed to Yami's chest and watched him for a moment warily.

Projecting as much calm as he was capable off, Yami let his mouth fall open, already imagining and anticipating the taste of the lips he was waiting for. Bakura satisfied him by doing exactly what he was invited to.

The sound of tripping breath from both of them.

They lay on the bed covers thrown hastily over mattresses that were summoned in the fashion similar to the rest of the room's furniture, touching each other everywhere and kissing deep and hard. Their erections were pressed between them by their weights, and breath hot on each neck, face, and mouth. Yami was hard enough he was nearly moaning from it.

It was impossible to keep from running his hands up and down Bakura's back, touching with exploratory intent, and with intent to learn the texture of the skin his fingers encountered.

The soft mattresses let up enough that he seemed to be sinking into the bed when Bakura leaned down to kiss him, one hand brushing up against his cheek and through his hair, pushing him down. More touches. The universe was in tight focus. Yami lifted his head up, finally meeting the rough, bitten lips.

Bakura pushed him down hard into the mattresses, mouth melding with his until no air could slip through, and tongue sliding wetly across his own. Then, Yami was grabbing at the back of Bakura's shirt, pulling, desperate for something magnificent to happen. Wanting, for the first time, oblivion in the sensation. Yami wanted to slide against the skin on Bakura's chest, he wanted to graze his teeth sharply against Bakura's lower lip, roll them over and push Bakura down, kiss him into shaky moaning.

Yami arched his throat off the bed, pushed with his chest and shoulders and surprised Bakura into yielding bit. Giving Bakura no chance to recover, his lips slid away from the other's mouth and he shifted up so all his body was now leaning on Bakura. It was a matter of moments before Bakura collapsed under their combined weight, flopping down on the mattresses, his hair flying everywhere. He glared up at Yami, but it was all softened and heavy lidded because Yami's hand was working it's way into Bakura's pants. Without unbuttoning them, Yami's sunk a hand in down beneath the briefs, through the pubic hair. At first contact, Bakura's mouth opened further and he seemed to sink into the mattresses, only the hips thrusting upwards. One hand rose up to touch the curve where Yami's head met his neck. It was an almost sentimental gesture -- Yami was surprised. Bakura's lids slid practically closed, but Yami was sure he was still being observed through thin eye slits. At the level of their hips, operating by touch alone, Yami stroked along the length of the cock, fully conscious of the fine tremble of the fingers at the side of his face. He saved this memory for later.

It didn't take long to bring Bakura to orgasm. In fact, Yami was positively sure it took Bakura by surprise. Something like a sob escaped that mouth and Yami was unable to keep a smug grin off his face.

Bakura half-growled, "My pants..." but then quickly abandoned that train of thought. He grabbed Yami by both sides of his head, fingers dipping possessively into the hair, and pulled him down by the it.

Lips slipped over his mouth again, and the hot brush of tongue confirmed that Bakura's own satisfaction has not deterred him from earlier plans. Aroused from the sex and even now somewhat breathless, Yami lay half on top of Bakura now, but his torso and legs were at Bakura's side on the bed. They were still, except from the heated meshing of their tongues and lips. All the same, Yami felt like he was being fucked with just that kiss.

Finally, after what seemed like more than the minute they spent passionately kissing, Bakura pulled away. The hands left Yami's head and traveled leisurely downward along his back. Yami shivered, looking down into the brown eyes trying to figure out what came next. He'd been hoping Bakura would bring him off, but half the time he wasn't even sure he wanted to permit it.

At the feel of warm fingers squeezing his ass and he abandoned that train of thought. He was still hard, and imagining what he could make Bakura do made his cock stir vaguely, pressing against the tightness of his pants.

Yami lowered his head, so his forehead was on Bakura's sharp shoulder. "What do you want?" he said softly, speaking into the space between both their chests.

All the response he got was a sleepy breath of, "Mmm."

Since Bakura wasn't doing anything, Yami nudged his erection into the side of Bakura's leg.

There was a malicious chuckle. A hand slid from his ass to cup his crotch through the pants, eliciting a gasp from him before he could hold it back. He shifted his legs to allow for better access.

Bakura's lips slid to his ear. "What I will do to you," he rubbed the thumb across the front of Yami's pants, "will be profane..."

And so when Bakura pushed him back and climbed on top of him, Yami let him.

He waited while Bakura fumbled half-heartedly with the buttons and zipper of his pants, all the while, the eyes more interested in the expression on Yami's face. The brown was almost completely swallowed up by the irises, and Bakura's eyes looked magnetically black in the low lightning as he watched for any flicker of emotion like some kind of vulture. Yami wondered what he was doing here.

Uncomfortable under such close observation and with those thoughts in his head, Yami lifted a hand up and pulled at Bakura's loose collar to bring him down from the sitting position.

"You're wearing too many clothes, Pharaoh," Bakura growled once he was at the level of his ear. Hands, now impatient, tugged at the buttons of his jacket and he was kissed again before Bakura let Yami lift up so the garment could be slipped off and thrown to the side. Both of them were panting. Next Bakura started on the buttons of the shirt, while Yami busied himself with Bakura's similar top. Under his fingers there was a clean feeling of cotton, since they were both wearing school uniforms because of their hosts, even if Bakura had foregone the jacket in an act of rebellion. Before Yami could unbutton even a single one of those tiny things, Bakura slapped his hands away. Strained voice, "No, just you."

Yami glared at him. It was a form of humiliation to be undressed by Bakura, if he couldn't do the same. Knowing this put Yami in a frame of mind completely unfavorable to intimacy of any kind. He pushed Bakura off with one hand, clutching the two sides of the shirt together with the other.

"Oh for God's sake--!" Bakura howled as Yami turned to rise. Hands grabbed at him from behind to hold him back, but Yami twisted out of their way, turning around to face the irritated expression on Bakura's face and his words, "Do you have some sort of kink about striptease that I should know about?"

"You're not doing anything to me that I can't do to you."

"I what?! You," Bakura stopped. His face began to flush hot with anger and Yami regretted moving, because Bakura wore anger attractively. "I knew it. I knew this was a mistake. Are you incapable of forgetting about what you want for a second? I don't give a rat's ass what you can and cannot do to me. All of this was about getting each other off. I didn't think there was a way to ruin that, but hell if you didn't find one!" Bakura rose and paced the room once, before twisting his head around for the final bitter shot. "I wish you luck with the next millennium of abstinence."

He left and slammed the door.

For someone who got a hand job out of it, Bakura sure acted like he came off the worse out of their two. Yami sat down on the bed. Abstinence was such a harsh word.

He looked up in surprise when the door opened again, and Bakura, still looking pissed off but with a different light in his eyes, stalked in again stopping in the doorway.

"You are not screwing up the only chance at a lay I have," was what he said. Yami began to feel almost hopeful about this, but of course he didn't let it show on his face. Mentally he had already undressed Bakura.

"Go posses Ryou." He said, crossly. Yami forced his eyes away from where they were sliding down Bakura's body and starred at the floor instead. He wanted to smile when Bakura didn't leave, but controlled it.

"Yeah, and what do I get out of it? I do all the work, but in the last moment I can't be there getting off and controlling his body at the same time." Bakura muttered, and when Yami looked up, his face was tinged with pink. "Somehow I'm not surprised you didn't know that. It figures you wouldn't even try."

"You actually did that?" Yami was horrified. His suggestion had been purely factitious. "How could you do that to Ryou?"

"Don't even start with the crusade to free the slaves." With that remark, Bakura marched over to Yami's side and they stood with merely inches between their bodies, neither willing to move away nor closer. Bakura bent his head at an angle and licked at Yami's lips. The roughness of his tongue was intoxicating. They both closed their eyes, and Yami's hands went around Bakura's shoulders traveling up into Bakura's fine long hair, even as the other pair of hands found their way to the small on Yami's back and yanked him up against the other body.

Soon they were both proceeding like they'd never argued.

"I want to fuck you." Bakura moaned against his mouth, teeth scrapping softly at Yami's lips. Yami felt his mouth form a flitting grin.

He tumbled them back into bed, kissing parts of Bakura he could lay his lips on -- face, neck, shoulders, chest. With such treatment, Bakura quieted down and no longer spoke, just let out a gasp of pleasure, occasionally.

Finally, Bakura's hands stretched out finding the edges of the zipper on Yami's pants and Yami had to let go of Bakura's nipple as Bakura's fingers continued with the job he started earlier, working until Yami was naked from the waist down. Soon Bakura's was sliding down along Yami's body, his skin in the barest of contacts with the skin of Yami's chest, until his mouth breathed hot air on the level of Yami's crotch.

"But wait," Bakura's voice and face brimmed with earnestness. "you didn't do that to me."

"Shut up." Yami gasped clearly, and after a moment's delay, Bakura's mouth was on him. "Ahhh."

His mind now a complete blank besides, how have I gone without this for so long? Yami arched off the bed. Electrical shocks traveled from his cock up his spine, the very idea of how forbidden this should have been -- Yami Bakura sucking him off -- filling his head with arousal. oh my god, keep going and no one has to know. But he wanted more than this, too. Bakura's tongue swept artfully from the base up and he felt the muscles in his stomach tightening further. A minute later, the pleasure crested and Yami squeezed his eyes shut as Bakura pushed away, white semen flying onto the sheets.

Then, Bakura crawled up the bed to be at the level with Yami's eyes when they opened.

He said, "You're better than a fucking girl." Yami started at this and Bakura laughed. "Maybe I'm queer!" He found the thought entirely too amusing, and was licking his lips.

"Ryou filled your head with modern ideas." Yami spoke, brushing against the side of Bakura's mouth where some of the come remained, voice growing drowsy and eyes sliding half closed, "There was a time when it would not have mattered."

Silence.

He realized with a skipping heart that he spoke of the time Before as though he recalled it, as though it wasn't a complete blank. Frantic thoughts rushed through his head, trying to remember what he'd been thinking of when he spoke, what moment he had just now remembered. With an effort, he kept his half concealed eyes unfocused and his face expressionless beyond a minute satisfaction of a blowjob.

"That would work if I couldn't feel your heart doing summersaults." Bakura told him, eyes knowing and harshly examining him from above.

Yami put on a saucy grin, "You give excellent head." Meanwhile, his mind was far away from here, grasping determinately at a brief flash of memory. Sex, heat, candles. It may have been a lover, or it may have been a slave; Yami could not recall anything beyond a vague impression of the same kind of satisfaction and the kind of pleasure Bakura brought him in the present.

Yami Bakura watched him for a moment more, face thoughtful, before appearing to make up his mind and proceed to undress the rest of him. Tongue on one of his nipples finally brought Yami back from his examination of the past, and he found Bakura licking his chest.

He watched, silent as Bakura lifted his eyes up to see if he had Yami's attention. Satisfied that he did, he murmured against Yami's skin. "I will fuck you now."

Yami didn't say anything, so it must have been a yes.

Later, they lay on the covers together.

"I don't believe this." Yami said finally, not moving his eyes from the ceiling.

"Me neither." Bakura also wouldn't look at him. Yami didn't know what was going through his head. They lay on their backs on the wide bed, not wanting to move. Yami was examining the contentment that had spread through his body. "We've just had fantastic sex."

"Who would have though." Yami added as the time flowed past their unmoving bodies.

"Yeah."

Another couple of minutes passed. Yami sat up, and moved his legs over the side of the bed, sitting on its edge. He searched for his clothing, beginning to put the garments on, ignoring certain soreness. Bakura rose on the other side. Finally, when they were both clothed, Yami turned to Bakura and said, "We could do it again, sometime."

He knew he wanted to; was certain Bakura wanted him. When Bakura gave him a searching glance, Yami licked his lips invitingly. Bakura's eyes didn't fail to stray to his mouth.

"Just knock; we're practically neighbours." Indeed, these days they were.

When Bakura left, Yami looked around the messy room, and wished the mess away until the room was clean. His mind was never on the things he was putting away however, it was continuously returning to that moment when the flash of memory came. He couldn't see the face from so long ago in his mind's eye, but for some reason he had the impression that back in the ancient times the snow white locks and dark brown eyes had also been involved.

And danger, and love, and pain.

Fin.