Disclaimer: I claim that this disclaiming sucks rude things.
AN: Hellllllllllllllllllllllllo, little children. Welcome to another oneshot. Slight A/U-ness... but in a good way. Y/Y, Yugi pov, and hold on to your brain, just in case...
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He sat on the ground and watched them play - he was often quiet, so they gave no mind to his silence - how were they to know what their own angel thought? He was their savior, after all...
He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. Savior. Indeed. Savior to many by chance - to one by choice.
He did not regret it.
Cradled in the delicate grasp of his fingers, his Puzzle gleamed brilliantly beneath the morning sun - a warm shimmer of darkness to taint the purity of a summer's day.
His beautiful one did not come play with them - the sun's favored child only ventured into the dawn when they could be alone. So he sat in silence - never alone, never alone, but they ebbed and flowed around him, and his other lay still and silent, caught up in a dream or vision, and he would not disturb him.
A peal of laughter teased his senses, and he parted thick lashes to see the merry chase rush by, catching a thousand smiles and the warmth of brilliant eyes as they paused in their flight long enough to give him homage.
They loved him now.
They had loved him then.
They just hadn't known it at the time.
He'd found out the reason one night - wracked by storms and fire and death and the newest breath of life - found out the reason and so much more.
The others? The strangers who frothed and hated and screamed and damned his name? The countless ones who had bruised his flesh and sought to steal his soul before the darkness lived to intervene?
A silvery laugh bubbled to lips curled into a smile that was soft as the morning dew, but he did not let it fall.
Fools.
Longing. That was all they had been - they had craved him and not known it, turned covetous eyes to the slender figure in their midst, and they had grown angry when they could not claim it as their own. Innocence so easily broken, delicacy so fragile as to shatter, purity easily corrupted, and all wished to touch and keep and clutch so tightly and never give it freedom - and they choked on bitterness and hate when they learned they could not keep him.
Purity? Light? Innocence?
He had grown accustomed to the names, to the honor, to the blind devotion they poured upon him - but knew he was so much more. They stalked him without intent just to breathe in his blessed self - to dare and touch a dream that couldn't quite be real.
He was more real than they could begin to understand.
His family was the same - his shy, elusive mother, so puzzled, so in awe of the creature she had birthed - she did not think herself worthy of her own child. But... he did not belong to her, nor to the warmth of his grandfather's smile. Though they had raised him, and well, cradled him in their arms and clung to his brilliance, he was not theirs to own.
Beauty?
He was beautiful - they all were. The chosen Beauty was not he - but to one, he was morning and night and life and breath and blood and everything a man could desire.
To others, he was slight and strange - with wild eyes and wild hair and strange dress, but he did not heed them any longer. He knew they fooled themselves - they loved him still.
They did not know him. They could not love him.
His light could strike and blind with all the swift cruelty of his darkness.
They could not understand. He was their Innocent, their Hope, their Savior and their newfound god. All knelt to him - his foes and friends alike - save one who would not kneel to any man nor god nor lover.
Lover.
His smile deepened.
More than anything, his lover was purity, exquisite and breathtaking, sweet and beautiful enough to make the heavens weep. Why was it that none could see it?
Pure darkness, after all, burned with all the passion of the night, and all the raging fury of a summer storm. Bloodstained rubies and the thick sweetness of silken ebony, pale gold caressed by leather, more brilliant gold tumbling down to brush obsidian and silver and dusky caramel - how could they not understand?
He was Purity.
As was his Darkness.
And to a darkness as brilliant as the light... he was everything.
No mortal hands had touched the moonlight of his skin, no human mouths had stolen kisses from the petals of his lips, no promises had been breathed in the wild silken masses of his hair, no gentle eyes had gazed into his own and the purity of his soul.
No mere human could comprehend the depths of his self - no mere child of the earth could wander the corridors of his soul - none could reach his lofty pedestal. He was their god, their favored one, and they could only worship him from afar.
He tossed his head, sending beaten gold flying, turning the eyes of a dozen others - all eyes drawn to him because they could not stop themselves. How could they not? They loved him without knowledge, without breath, without craving and desperation and madness, and he could not share his passions with them.
But to his yami he was knowledge. To his yami he was reason and breath and life and longing and desperation and sweet peach brandy and sheer exquisite insanity.
And passion - enough to split the world beneath his feet and tear the stars from the skies. The nights he spent with his yami...
Crying. Always crying. It was always too much and not enough - whimpering and pleading again and again and again, drowning and dying and longing and sheer need...
But so good.
Gasping and moaning - slick wetness, always so wet, always so hungry...
With his yami it was always physical. How could it not be? Always haunted by fierce longing, and too close could never be enough.
Lips and tongue and teeth and skin and desperation - always a heated tangle in his bed, up against his wall, in the bath, in the shower, anywhere and everywhere because neither of them could stop themselves.
Innocence?
Pure sexuality, movement and longing and heat, arching and twisting and pushing and taking and giving, slippery touches in the shadows and the soft rustle of leather against cotton.
With his yami, he moves - in shuddering unison, in the thick heat of passion, in every thought and every precious word that slips through soft bruised lips or slides down their bond like a sigh.
He hasn't been innocent since his yami gained a body of his own - since soft hands met in shy fascination, and feral ruby met longing amethyst - since they'd fallen helplessly together and he lost his soul to the darkness.
Clawing and biting and claiming - his glorious other, silk and sin and ebony and scarlet and gold - gentle? His yami did not understand gentleness, how could he? He was the shadows' firstborn child - and their creation was perfect.
It was Yugi who had soothed him, eased his harshness, softened the violence of his kisses, quieted sharp growls into soft snarls and cries, made his addictive darkness bearable, and melted the blind lust in his beautiful eyes.
His yami had fallen desperately in love with him that night - had fallen, was fallen, tumbled and drowned in him, and the sheer beauty of his newfound lover had taken his own breath away - stolen by velvet lips that curved in a mocking smile, hiding the poison-drenched sweetness of his tongue, but he was the antidote to the sting, and his yami's delicious kisses tasted like eternity and power and cruelty and love.
He'd discovered only then that he was Pleasure.
Drunk on passion, slender body entangled in the heat of his yami, throat sore from screaming, pale skin drenched in sweat and tears and sweetness, and when he'd finally collapsed, exhausted, with his yami still crying and trembling inside him, he had been certain. No wonder... no wonder at all that he had what he had... no wonder his beautiful one adored him so.
Soulmate for a nameless child of darkness, and his lost one lay against his chest and kissed his hair with tears.
Pleasure intended to embrace all it surveyed - and his yami filled his self and soul and mind, and knew the sweetness of his fascination, the curious restlessness that prodded and sought and sealed the fragile splintered remnants of his past.
Jealousy. Sharp and brilliant and edged in diamonds and blood.
No wonder they hated Yugioh so.
Possession?
His shadow child clung to him far too closely for any other to come near - and he allowed it.
Jealousy?
They envied his yami. They longed for his body and soul and mind - and his yami's claim overwhelmed that of any other. He could be the balm to save their souls - but not when his darkness still twined about him, not when the lips that touched his own belonged to the son of the sun, not when the arms that held him were those of a fallen king, not when the boy who shared his bed was all that they could never see.
Soft embraces, the warmth of a summer evening, the sweetness of a cool breeze brushing over flushed skin, a new jewel sparkling in the sun, the freshness of newly-baked bread...
Whatever it was, he could be.
He was, after all, the sweetest pleasure that anyone could ever crave. Such a pity that they would die if they dared to touch the flawlessness of his skin.
His beautiful one was a dangerous creature - and what he desired, he always claimed as his own.
Yugi was the only thing he'd ever wanted.
Desire sought pleasure, after all.
And his yami was Desire.
Smoldering eyes and silken skin, wild laughter and mad passion, cold control and power so great as to make nations fall at his feet - the longing for light in the darkness, the longing for sin in purity, and he could be it all if only they dared to dream of him.
Oh yes, they suited one another well - he the sweetness and light, his yami the vibrancy and lunacy - and their union brought down the storm. Small wonder he'd been thrown into such turmoil... but he loved it just the same.
A life torn asunder by chaos?
For his soulmate, there was no question. He'd fallen in love - sooner than his beauty, but his yami could only understand the passion in lust, until he had coaxed him and taught him that there was more... longing and craving and everything in this world... and he was everything to his yami.
He lifted his eyes - and stared into bloody pools of crimson.
Warm trembling teasing playful laughter... soft sultry summer heat to change the day.
He laughed and curled his arms around a trim waist, tilted his head up, and let his eyes flutter shut again when his yami's soft mouth closed tenderly over his own.
In the distance, they watched and ached and cried for him - and not one dared approach.
Softness. He could be soft for his yami, gentle and sweet and shy... /...I missed you./
Sly sweetness. Mischief lurked in the music of his thoughts. //I know.//
He curled his fingers into slippery leather, repressing a giggle as slender hands bore him to the ground, tossing his head so that their shining treasures would not get in the way.
/They're staring./
//Let them stare. They can't have you.//
He smiled into the second kiss, embracing the rawness of the sensation - his yami knew exactly how to drive him mad. /I know./
//Biaw...//
/Whose else could I be? You're far too grabby... oi! That's grabbing... mmm... that's impolite to do in public.../
When his yami laughed, his voice echoed with the fall of empires.
And across the lawn, they stared with longing eyes at everything that they had ever wanted - and the impossible temptation of the union of Desire and Pleasure was so alluring that they could not look away.
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AN: See the halo? I'm INNOCENT, I tell ya, INNOCENT!
"Biaw" - "mine" in ancient Egyptian.
Tantalus: A figure in Greek mythology, condemned to hell, who when living was a glutton. He was placed in a pool of water that reached to his chin, and above his head arched a fruit tree. Whenever he dipped his head to get a drink, the pool of water lowered just out of his reach, and whenever he tilted his head up to take a bite of fruit, the branches moved out of the way. From this myth is derived the word 'tantalize'.
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