Nothing Quite Like

Title: Nothing Quite Like [2/5]

Author: Angryhamster

Rating: NC-17 [this part NC-17]

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.

*

Once Bakura heard the shower start in the other room, he gave up the pretence
of sleep and turned over, staring at the ceiling. While he had no intention
of sleeping in another's company, he had no intention of going anywhere, either.
He was still pleasantly drowsy from earlier activities and was more than content
to lie and bask in the afterglow.

He ran one hand up the length of his body, pressing against the bruises lightly,
the sensation bringing a smirk to his face. His lover (and the smirk broadened
at the term), was delightfully forceful. It had been a pleasant surprise for
him-- he hadn't really expected any sort of actual challenge, let alone the
ferocious reciprocity of lust between them, so the intensity and almost adversarial
nature of their encounters thrilled him. It was exactly what he needed (if not
as frequent as he might have liked); his boy was quite perfect in most regards.

His boy. The possessive clause almost made him smile. In actuality, the initial
attraction there didn't even originate with himself-- it was his little host
who had been drawn to the tall brunet first. Bakura had noted this interest
quietly, aware of the way Ryou would watch the other boy out of the corner of
his eye at school, how he would stare at Kaiba during duels, even while cheering
for Yugi, and the way he became flustered on the rare occasions that Kaiba spoke
to him.

Over time, Ryou's attraction to Kaiba had only grown, and one afternoon, after
enduring a full forty minutes of his host's frustrated affection, the spirit
had volunteered his services and offered to put him out of his misery. He'd
silenced Ryou's protests and pulled control from him, stalking silently through
the tidy rows of lockers and decidedly untidy piles of scattered gym clothing
before tracking down his prize back at the showers. Despite it being last period,
Ryou had sped through his routine after class in order to be cleaned and dressed
before Kaiba arrived at the showers. Ryou might have been content to run away,
but Bakura wasn't-- his host's frustrations were his own, after all (as long
as they shared a body, that is), and Bakura had never been one to practice self-denial.

He'd leaned against the wall for a long time, assessing his host's crush, watching
the water pour over the slender, perfectly proportioned body and plastering
darkened brown hair to the boy's neck and face. This, then, had been the view
his little light had shied away from, presumably to avoid becoming even more
worked up. The spirit, however, had no intention of slinking away unsatisfied,
and so had indulged himself by watching...

Even now, months later, the image was still as fresh as it had been the afternoon
as he had committed it to memory; and he was torn between letting himself slip
into it and joining the boy in the shower right now. Bakura had something of
a thing for showers, the water and slickness of it all, and as he considered
the memory, he was sorely tempted leave the warm comfortable nest he'd made
within the sheets... but he knew from experience that he would only be rebuffed;
once Kaiba had slipped into Work Mode, there was little that could remove him
from it, especially in the mornings.

On that first occasion, however, there had been no withholding or rebuffing
of anything. Slipping comfortably into the memory, Bakura relaxed back onto
the bed. Despite being irritatingly rushed, it was otherwise one of his favourite
encounters to re-live, and he let himself fall into it now.

He'd waited a long time (his hikari pleading with him to leave for most of
it), before Kaiba noticed his presence. The boy turned slightly, eyes narrowing
and mouth compressing, all traces of his previous relaxed state gone in an instant,
replaced with wary irritation.

'Did you want something?' he asked, making no effort to hide his body, but
refraining from posing, too, absolute in his confidence. It was both impressive
and alluring, and Bakura felt a pleasantly warm flush of arousal wash over him.

'I want many things,' the spirit had replied evenly, stepping away from the
wall and standing at the edge of the wet tiles, his bare toes curling against
them slightly. Ryou had managed only to wrestle into a pair of jeans before
Bakura had decided to put a stop to his silliness, and now, watching the object
of their desire standing before him in all his glory, even those were beginning
to feel too tight.

Kaiba leaned forward and shut off the water before turning back and crossing
both arms over his chest. "Well?" he demanded, raising one eyebrow.
The boy had no time to react as the spirit closed the distance between them,
pushing him against the wall. Kaiba opened his mouth, most likely to object
in some form, but Bakura would never be quite sure of this because he'd taken
the opportunity to kiss him then-- hard and demanding, biting at his lip, stroking
the boy's tongue with his own, stealing his breath and releasing every ounce
of second-hand, pent-up frustration he'd experienced over the last several months
due to his hikari's shyness.

The taller boy grabbed Bakura by the arms, his fingers digging into the spirit's
biceps. For a moment, Bakura was quite sure he was about three seconds from
landing on his ass on the tile, but then he a hand slid between them, and downwards,
and suddenly the grip on his arms was different entirely; pulling him in instead
of holding him back. Bakura knew he'd sealed the deal (more so even than when
he felt the boy's cock swell and harden in his hand), when he heard the soft
moan-- a physical reaction was one thing, but he'd pilfered enough information
from Ryou to know that for this particular boy, the much esteemed Seto Kaiba,
surrender was not something that came easily.

Bakura could feel his own body responding to the situation as the kiss changed,
was returned, grew deeper, and he shifted impatiently, wanting to tear off the
now offensive jeans and get this over with-- last class or not, it would be
unwise to dally here for long, and the last thing the spirit wanted was to have
to this encounter cut short.

His other hand made quick work of the buttons and it occurred to him fleetingly
that this it was this hand, his left, that his hikari had used to defy him before,
though he didn't seem to be objecting now. He smothered an outward laugh at
his host's indignant distress-- Bakura was well aware of Ryou's arousal, almost
as strong as his own, for all of his fighting against it. /I'm doing this
for you,/ he told the boy. He could sense Ryou's cynicism at that statement.
/Quite right,/ he thought, and laughed openly, trailing light bites along
Kaiba's throat.

'Something funny?' Kaiba snarled, fisting one hand in still-damp white hair
and using it to tug the spirit back slightly.

'You're easy,' Bakura said, covering smoothly.

Kaiba snorted. 'I wanted to get off, and you were here. That's not easy, that's
convenient.'

Bakura chuckled at this statement. 'Whatever you need to tell yourself,' he
smirked, before claiming the boy's mouth again and pushing him back against
the tile. He caught his thumbs in the belt loops of the jeans and yanked them
downwards, not far, but far enough so that he could--

"Ah! Fuck..." the boy hissed as their bodies came into contact, both
still damp, and Bakura pulled him down for another kiss. He pressed even closer
against Kaiba, flush against him so that they were lined up almost perfectly:
mouth to mouth, chest to chest, cock to cock as they ground against each other.

Very deliberately, Bakura kept himself from making much noise as the boy moved
against him, though every perfect, delicious sensation made him want to scream.
It was, in fact, the first time that he had indulged himself in this host's
body (with another person, at least) and he knew the inexperience was damning
him, but he absolutely refused to let go first, so to distract himself, he tipped
his head back slightly, watching. The boy's chest rose and fell rapidly, his
mouth slightly parted, eyes screwed shut, head falling forward and strands of
damp hair sticking to his face.

He was... erotic, the prefect picture of wanton debauchery, fucking against
the tile in a school bathroom like this, and Bakura shuddered with the ripples
of pleasure the thought caused him. Unfortunately, it was not the best visual
to stave off release, so instead he closed his eyes and leaned in closer to
nibble at Kaiba's throat, tracing paths with his tongue across artery and tendon,
before biting down hard at the curve of neck and shoulder. Kaiba's thrusts became
erratic against him, and Bakura bit his lip at the extra friction, at the sound
of ragged breathing that was not his own, the feel of warm breath against his
shoulder... He wasn't entirely sure how much longer he could hold out, but then,
it didn't matter-- with a muted howl and a choked-off curse, the boy was coming
over them both, hands digging into Bakura's hips, body bucking against him.

That was more than enough for him-- keeping only enough control to refrain
from screaming, Bakura let it all go, pulling the boy tighter against him and
pressing his forehead to his shoulder, pleasure so intense it made him dizzy
sweeping over him as he came-- perfectly silent, while his knees turned to jelly.
/Enjoy that, little one?/ He asked Ryou, only half-mocking. There was
no response, so it may have been presumptuous, but he took the silence to mean
yes.

'Oh, fuck,' Kaiba muttered, half under his breath, as he leaned back against
the wall.

'Maybe next time,' Bakura said with a smirk, pulling his jeans back up wincing
as the hard material rasped against his still sensitive flesh.

'Next time, I'll have you on your back and moaning like a bitch," Kaiba
said. Pushing back from the wall, he switched the water back on only seconds
after Bakura had moved out of its path, then turned away and stepped under the
water's flow. The spirit grinned. His plan had worked to perfection, then--
he knew Kaiba wouldn't have been able to resist a challenge and would
demand more, a... rematch, for lack of a better term.

'Perhaps.'

'No "perhaps" about it," Kaiba snapped. 'Be at my house next
Thursday evening by eight. And don't bring any of your little friends with you.'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' Bakura had said with a smile, before slipping back
into the locker room to clean himself off.

That had been almost three months ago, and ever since, they had been fucking
intermittently-- Bakura would not have called it a relationship, even if it
had been one-- and he was generally very satisfied. Aside from the fact that
they were well-matched and he thoroughly enjoyed their encounters, it meant
that his hikari couldn't hassle Bakura for never doing anything for him-- it
might have been second-hand pleasure, but he knew from living in the Ryou's
body for so long that it made little difference.

In addition, he also had other, darker reasons, that he didn't feel like sharing...
mostly the fact that there was something ultimately thrilling about fucking
his old arch-rival, especially when the priest was now a boy again, and was
willing, and didn't even seem to remember his old life. It had taken Kaiba long
enough to accept that the spirit and Ryou were entirely different people. Bakura
remembered the night he'd figured it out--

'You're not him, are you?' He'd asked, and Bakura had shook his head, mouth
ghosting over the skin beneath him, trailing kisses over Kaiba's stomach. 'Who
are you?' he'd asked then, and the spirit was almost disappointed. The
real answer, of course, wasn't anything he could sum easily, let alone tell
him, so he sighed and simply said, 'A thief and a stealer of souls.' It was
the old answer he trotted out when he didn't feel like elaborating further;
not an untruth, certainly, but as such small portion of the whole, it might
as well have been for all its significance.

Kaiba had seemingly latched onto this as a name for him, and he wasn't complaining--
when the boy's previous incarnation had called him 'thief', it was usually followed
by a string of expletives, and a command to have him attacked, beaten or killed.
This new version (in the case of both the boy and the reference) was a tremendous
improvement, in his opinion. He supposed Kaiba was growing on him. Bakura had
almost grown to like him.

...Most of the time, anyway. He ducked as Kaiba emerged from the shower, and,
picking up Bakura's scattered clothing from the floor, fired them at him, barely
missing his head.

"Be gone before Mokuba comes home," Kaiba grunted, roughly towelling
his hair dry. He disappeared into the closet and emerged a few moments later,
fully dressed. "And make sure you take all your shit with you this time.
I had Mokuba asking me when I got this," he held up a belt in one hand,
before tossing it onto the bed with the rest of the clothes, "last time,
and I don't need the hassle."

Bakura eyed the belt with amusement, barely hearing him; instead considering
various things to do with it next time. Speaking of... "And when should
I expect to see you next?"

"You should never expect to see me," Kaiba snapped, tugging
a brush through his still damp hair. He paused. "I have no idea, I have
a busy week ahead... I'll call you."

If he'd had feelings, the spirit might have been hurt, but instead he simply
turned over on the bed, delighting in small flare of pain it caused. Propping
himself up on one arm, he watched the boy wrestle with his hair, appraising
his appearance... which was not good.

"You look like shit," he said, flatly. It might have been evident
last night as well, he pondered, but Bakura had been too preoccupied at the
time to notice.

"Thank you for that impromptu assessment," Kaiba drawled, never taking
his eyes off the mirror.

"You are working too much," Bakura said, after a moment. For
the first month or two of their non-relationship, Kaiba's work schedule had
been erratic: some weeks found him working more than others, but lately Bakura
had noticed that the amount of time the boy was spending at the office had been
steadily increasing, and there had been no ebb whatsoever. He would never come
out and ask Kaiba directly what was wrong --he didn't want the boy to get the
misguided impression that Bakura cared, after all-- but the reality was that
such a hectic schedule couldn't possibly be healthy.

"Concerned?" Kaiba asked mockingly, but Bakura thought he detected
a fleeting note of worry underneath.

"Hardly," he said, flopping onto his back again. "I just have
no interest in fucking a corpse; you'll likely kill yourself at this rate."

Kaiba grunted in response, and apparently satisfied with his hair, headed for
the door. "Try not to steal anything when you leave."

"Oh, I already got everything I wanted from you," Bakura replied
with a grin, settling back onto the bed for a brief nap. It was an old game
with them: insult, insult, insult, followed up with either sex or departure.
He watched the boy's back as he left, a slight frown creasing his brows. It
didn't seem like his heart was in this morning, though. And he really did look
like shit.

Clearly, Kaiba was working too much. And too hard. Bakura's concerns
on this were two-fold: while it was unlikely Seto's work ethic would kill
him, it might well land him in the hospital, which would leave Bakura without
someone to fuck for an indeterminable amount of time. Aside from being used
to the boy and already having done all the work, he liked fucking Kaiba,
and didn't particularly want to have to find someone new. The second problem
with this new work routine meant that Kaiba had less free time than before,
which was pissing Bakura off. He'd gotten used to the regularity of their encounters,
and this recent, less frequent schedule was frustrating.

He pondered on this for a few moments, plotting out various solutions, none
of which seemed particularly feasible. He briefly entertained setting fire to
the Kaiba Corp. building; kidnapping Kaiba himself; and arranging a fake conference
in some remote location-- the last was almost promising, but he disregarded
it anyway, because it would take entirely too much work to pull off.

Instead, he came up with a much, much better idea that would actually require
very little work on his part, and would probably work perfectly. Bakura grinned,
and shut his eyes.

His own brilliance amazed him sometimes.

*to be continued...*