Nothing Quite Like

Title: Nothing Quite Like [1/5]

Author: Angryhamster

Rating: NC-17 [this part R]

Pairing: Seto/Bakura (Bakura/Ryou also implied).

Beta: Whosjeebus

Spoilers: Up to 'Battle City' may be mentioned. Set right after, so nothing
beyond.

Warnings: None to speak of. Unless the dub names bother you, that is.

Disclaimer: I wish that YGO was mine. I really, really do... It's not,
though.

Summary: Bakura takes issue with Seto's work habits, but how is he going
to promote change? In a completely bizarre and twisted way, of course.

Notes: I can't believe this took three months to write. I suck.

*

Seto nudged Bakura none too gently with his shoulder. "I know you're not
sleeping, so don't bother to pretend, thief," he said, accompanied by another
nudge. "I have to go. Get off."

Bakura cracked one eye open and smiled lazily, biting down with blunt teeth
into Seto's shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to hurt,
and definitely hard enough to serve as a reminder of their positions. Seto swallowed
as he felt Bakura's mouth move up along his skin, dropping light bites along
the way. He was leaving marks, the bastard; he always did, and Seto knew his
body was probably covered with them this morning.

He felt warm breath blow across his ear and forcibly suppressed a shiver.

"Go where?" Bakura asked, sliding a warm hand across his lover's
stomach.

"Work," Seto said, shortly, shoving Bakura's hand away and extricating
himself from the sheets. He stretched before standing; looking down, he noticed
that his skin was indeed littered with bite and suck marks in various states
of vitality. Fuck. Another day of high collars, then.

"Work, always work... You work too much," Bakura mumbled, rolling
over and pressing his face into the pillows, already half asleep again. Unwatched,
Seto didn't bother to hide the small smirk that crept across his features as
the meaning of Bakura's words sunk in-- too much, not too hard--
there was no hidden undercurrent of worry there; Bakura's only concern was how
it affected him. For Seto --right now, anyway-- this is exactly perfect: he
is building an empire of sorts, and he doesn't have the time, energy or inclination
to deal with the attachments and expectations of a normal relationship.

Someone else might have expected things of him, expected him to go places and
do things and listen and converse and 'share experiences'. Bakura expected sex,
and for the sex to be good. That was all, and Seto could do that-- do that easily,
if the other's reactions were anything to go by.

They didn't talk much, beyond the occasional streak of conversation that slipped
past them between sessions: 'You have plans for the evening?', ' Will you be
at school tomorrow?' 'There's something stuck in your hair...' and so on.

Consequently, it had taken a long time for Seto to come to realize that the
man who shared his bed was genuinely not the same shy, retiring boy who was
friends with Yugi and his motley crew. Much as he tried to disregard the...
less explicable things which had happened during the Battle City tournament,
some of them had wormed their way into his psyche, forcing him to reconsider
his position on a few of the issues which had presented themselves there.

Not all, no-- the past life notion, for example, was something he still scoffed
at quite thoroughly, but he couldn't deny that there was something very different
between Ryou, the boy at school, and Bakura, the man in his bed. Seto cast a
glance over one shoulder at the figure still tangled comfortably in the bedclothes:
lying on his stomach, head rested on his forearm, sheets kicked carelessly down
far enough that the curve of his ass was almost exposed, and with finger shaped
bruises on his hips, Seto knew there was no way this was the same boy
who was entirely unable to meet his eyes in the corridors at school.

It should have bothered him, and it did, a little-- enough to spark his curiosity
into asking him 'Who are you?' once, a couple of weeks ago.

'A thief and a stealer of souls,' Bakura had replied, sounding almost bored,
before sliding down Seto's body and putting his mouth to other, better uses.

A thief, Seto had remembered, and had said it to him later. Bakura had merely
laughed and pulled Seto down on top of him-- he didn't seem to mind it, though,
and ever since it had become as close to a pet name for him as Seto was prepared
to allow.

'Thief.' It always made Bakura smile when he said it.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he passed, wincing as the full
extent of the evidence of the previous night's activities presented itself.
He didn't even look well aside from that; work had been nothing short of hellish
for the last month, and he hadn't been able to get nearly as much sleep as he
needed.

Starting the shower, he stepped under the hot spray and turned his mind to
the matters of the coming day. He had three meetings before lunch, and he would
have to spend the afternoon listening to the latest pitches from the R&D
group, the majority of which wouldn't be worth shit; if he was lucky, there
might be one idea worth exploring. Two, if that new recruit was less brain dead
than he seemed.

Seto sighed, working shampoo into his wet hair and leaning back against the
cold tile, wincing as some of the lather found its way to his eye, stinging
and burning. He had a horrible feeling it was going to be one of those days.

*to be continued...*