Dark Roads

Disclaimer - I don't own the characters, but I do own the plot. How? Because I'm throwing them into MY life the way it is now, and the way I'd like to see it go . . . so there.

Author's Notes - Another chapter, and this story is proving to be my most precious yet. I'm pouring alot into this . . . I've already gotten 11 chapters written, and a shitload more to go from the feel of it. Of course, Bakura and my other muses aren't exactly making it any easier to work on anything else . . . one track minds, all of them. Geesh.
To Ishtarlfox, in answer to your question - there will be no sexual encounters between Atemu (Yami) and Marik. I'm not, however, going to rule out blood letting.

To ChaosDragon - Eventually you will find out just how Atemu got to be so good at stuff that his 'good boy' reputation doesn't quite sit well with. *huggles* you'll just have to wait, but I promise it will be good.

*glomphs and huggles Leighc and Shy* I just adore you two, you know that? Really I do. Keep emailing me, or get on AIM or something so we can chat!

huggles and cuddles go to Ladywolf_terri, Lady Laran, Silvershadowfire, and Lady Grey . . . who are all insane enough to actually put up with my babbling at them over AIM, plus deal with Bakura's occassionaly snide comments. Luv you all.


Chapter 3 – Marked


Atemu ran the pad of his finger absently over the bandage on his neck, nestled slightly behind his right ear, barely hidden by his golden bangs when he tucked them back. The kanji symbol for yami . . . darkness . . . had been tattooed there by Bakura himself, after his little escapade through the gauntlet.
Afterwards, he’d spent the night drinking and getting to know the other gang members . . . people who he had pledged to give his life for by accepting that mark. He’d been surprised to find they were all good people at heart . . . people who simply just had nowhere else to go. Many of them came from broken households, or abusive ones, and a good majority of them were foster kids on the run from the system.

He’d learned quite a bit about Bakura from talking with all of them . . . stuff that had really surprised him. It seemed that the pale man wasn’t nearly as much of a hard ass as he wanted people to think.
The Jackals may have been a gang, but for many of its members, it was also the family they had never had. Bakura had given them a place to live, a place to belong, for the first time in their lives.
Astonishing, really, that kind of soft-heartedness in a guy who had been a major asshole for all the time Atemu had known him.

Bakura . . . or Thief, as the Jackals named him . . . had disappeared with Marik after his ‘initiation’ and he hadn’t seen the man at all for the rest of the night. It had been disappointing, considering what he’d been hoping to do after the fight between them before, but he’d quickly forgotten it in the intrigue of learning more about this strange group of misfits he was now a part of.

The one thing that hadn’t surprised him was the source of income the group used to get what they needed. Bakura’s name was Thief for a reason . . . he and several of the members were behind the mysterious robberies that had plagued Domino for the past few years.

He’d always wondered who was behind those . . . the only businesses ever hit were ones that could handle the loss with ease, mostly those that catered to the rich and snobbish. He had actually laughed after finding that out . . . because Seto had been hit a couple of times by this group of misfits. He’d been there to see the aftermath of one of them . . . Seto had been absolutely furious. Not that it had hurt him any – he’d just been upset that someone had the audacity to rob HIM of all people. Seto and his ego . . . sometimes he wondered how he’d lived with it for so long.

All in all, he’d found he could actually like and respect this ragtag group of misfits he was now a member of, and that satisfied him. It was nice to know that he’d pledged to give his life for people he didn’t outright hate. Well, except for Marik.

He wondered what Marik’s problem with him was . . . he’d had very few run-ins with the blonde in high school, so they hadn’t developed any kind of rivalry that would explain the instant hatred. He supposed he’d have to ask about it later. For now, he had a business to run.

Growling down at the books slightly, he tried to make them balance out, running figures through the computer in front of him multiple times before he finally came out somewhat on the good side. Barely in the green, but enough that they could pay bills for the month and get what groceries they needed, and still have enough to put in the bank for later. With a sigh of relief, he shut the computer down and slid his chair back, wanting nothing more out of the night than to go take a bath and hit his bed.

“Atemu! You’ve got visitors!” Yugi called up from the shop, and he groaned before standing, his spine popping in several places as he stretched before heading downstairs. He paused on the bottom step, a slight moment of hesitation before crossing the small store to clasp Bakura’s arm before giving the youth at the man’s side a smile.

“Long time no see, Ryou,” he murmured, and the shy, younger clone of Bakura ducked his head and blushed slightly. It was then that he noticed the book bag at Ryou’s feet . . . and the two duffle bags Bakura had placed beside the counter. He glanced back up at Bakura curiously, and the man nodded toward the stairs.

“Can we talk in private?” he asked, slightly fingering the kanji mark that resided on his own neck. Atemu nodded . . . apparently this was Jackals business.

“Yugi, why don’t you and Ryou stay here and catch up a bit . . . we’ll only be a few minutes,” he said, and Yugi nodded his assent before pulling the shy, pale youth behind the counter. With a slight gesture for Bakura to follow, he led the way back up the stairs and into the office, settling into the chair he had so recently evacuated. “Okay, Thief, what’s up?”

“I need you to shelter Ryou,” Bakura said without preamble, and Atemu nearly started back up out of his chair in shock. “We got evicted this morning, and I can’t take him to the Den. He wouldn’t be safe there . . . and I don’t want him knowing about the Jackals.”

“I was under the impression that you didn’t give much of a shit about his safety, or anything else having to do with him, for that matter,” Atemu murmured, and quickly found himself hauled to his feet with a hand fisted in the front of his shirt.

“Ryou is the only family I have,” Bakura snarled. “I may treat him like shit in public, but it’s to protect him. If people knew how close we were, they’d go after him to get to me. I have to prevent that. Now, will you help me or not, Yami?” Atemu met the magenta eyes head on, seeing the sincerity in their depths. Bakura meant what he was saying, obviously. Surprising.

He also noticed that Bakura had used his new name . . . which meant this wasn’t just a personal favor. Even if he’d wanted to, turning down the request could have severe consequences, and hurt his newly acquired standing within the pack. Not that he’d planned on saying no. He liked Ryou, and if the boy lived with him and Yugi, it would give Yugi companionship other than his own.

“Chill, Thief,” he said, clamping his hand over the wrist that was holding him upright. “Ryou can stay here, with Yugi and I.” He paused for a moment, waiting for the pale man to let him go, and then asked his question. “Where do you intend on staying?”

“The Den,” was the short answer, and Atemu shook his head.

“You can’t live there, and you know it,” he murmured. “You’ll stay here as well.” Bakura snarled and took a step back toward him, hands balling into fists.

“Since when do you give the orders to me, Yami?” he snarled, and then grunted as he found his back against the wall, a very lithe body pressed into his, holding him there as he stared into crimson eyes.

“I gave a pledge yesterday to give anything to help the ‘pack’,” Atemu growled. “That includes protecting you from your own idiocy. Ryou would hate to be separated from you. You’ll stay here, with Yugi, Ryou, and myself . . . no strings attached.” He reached up to finger the bandage again, before running his finger over Bakura’s own mark lightly. “You invoked the Jackals to get me to protect Ryou . . . I’m following through by helping you as well. That is what these marks are for, are they not?”

Bakura shuddered beneath the light touch, his skin flaming where the callused pad caressed it. First the fight, then yesterday’s performance at the initiation . . . Bakura’s senses were on high, his hormones raging. He wanted a taste of Atemu badly . . . and he got the feeling that those sentiments were returned. He could feel it in the way that body was resting against him, the coiled tension that was barely sensed, but there.

God, he’d never been so turned on by someone standing up to him in his life! Of course, not many people dared to stand up to him, either . . . lives had ended quickly for that sin. But if he didn’t get a piece of Atemu soon, whether Marik approved or not, he was going to explode.

He and Marik had gotten involved in one hell of an argument after yesterday’s initiation over his apparent infatuation with the man before him. It was rare that the two fought, but when they did it was usually over something serious. His second was worried that he was letting his obvious desire to get into those tight leather pants cloud his judgment. As far as he was concerned, they would find out soon enough . . . once he got what he wanted.

“Fine,” he growled . . . and then moaned as Atemu pressed further into him before taking a hungry kiss from his parted lips. He fought back, but he doubted his body was really into fighting at this point. The slight pressure of a thigh against his rapidly hardening flesh only served to fan the fire igniting in the pit of his stomach. He would never have thought of Atemu as the dominant type, but good god was he doing a damn good job of it at the moment.

Two could play at this game though . . . but not here. He had a vague notion that things between them would get rather . . . loud.

“My stuff is at the Den already,” he murmured when Atemu finally backed away. “Care to come with me to retrieve it?”

Crimson looked into magenta, seeing a very different offer in those hazed depths, and Atemu’s mouth went dry. God, if he wanted this any more he would be a walking ball of flame at this point.
“Sure,” he replied huskily, backing off regretfully, much to his body’s protest. He assuaged it with a promise of what was to come (or cum) once they were out of earshot of the younger males in the house. “Can’t have you trying to change your stubborn mind once you’re out of sight, now can we?” Bakura smirked at him, and he chuckled before straightening his clothes, un-tucking his shirt to hide the rather painful and obvious bulge in the tight black leather he was wearing.

He was gratified to note that his soon to be lover had to do the same, and licked his lips slightly in anticipation. God, did he want this! Grabbing his jacket on the way down the stairs, he pulled Yugi to the side and explained quietly what was going on.

“Clean the spare bedroom out while I’m gone . . . we’ll put Bakura in there and if you don’t mind, Ryou can bunk in with you on that fold-out cot we have.” Yugi nodded, but looked up at his brother in concern.

“Atemu . . . I thought you and Bakura hated each other?” he asked quietly. Atemu chuckled slightly, ruffling the smaller youth’s hair lovingly.

“Things change, little one,” he murmured. “People change. Now then, you stay here, lock up the shop and head upstairs to get that room cleaned out. I’ll take my keys with me. Don’t wait up for us, okay? We may be awhile.” Yugi nodded, and promised that he would do as his brother had asked, and Yami strode out the door with Bakura in tow.

Rounding the side of the house, he strolled into the garage, tossing a spare helmet to Bakura.

“Here,” he said, as the man caught the helmet with a confused look. “This will get us there a bit faster, and I’m in no mood to walk at the moment.” He shoved his own helmet on his head, tucking the golden strands of his bangs back behind his ears carefully so that his vision would remain clear.

He straddled the black cycle, kicking the stand up before jump starting it, listening to it purr before looking back up at Bakura, who still stood with the helmet in his hands, eyeing the machine warily.

“It won’t bite, Bakura,” he said with a grin. “You can’t honestly tell me your afraid of a machine?” The jab to his ego did the trick, and the pale man shoved his head into the helmet, tucking silver-white hair back from his face before sliding onto the growling cycle behind Atemu.

For a moment, the tri-haired man wondered if this was such a good idea. With his motorcycle vibrating his erection erotically, and Bakura pressed tightly against his back to the point where he could feel the man’s own hardness against his ass, this was going to be torture.

“Fuck it,” he grumbled, and revved up the engine, shooting out of the driveway onto the deserted street like a rocket, laughing slightly as Bakura clung to him. The sooner they got there, the better things would be . . . in all respects.


*-------*-------*-------*-------*


Atemu pulled around to the back of the deserted bar was something very much like relief flooding through his veins. He shut his cycle down gratefully, glad to climb off it and end the torture the trip had induced.

He must have broken about a dozen speeding laws on the way here. He’d been right in his first estimation of the trip . . . he was now so painfully hard that it was almost impossible to walk. Anticipation of what was to come, on top of the feeling of Bakura pressed against him with his cycle vibrating between his legs, had done nothing to extinguish the fire in his groin.

Walking carefully, he followed Bakura to the door, watching as the man punched in the code before stalking through the darkened hallways behind him. He wasn’t surprised to find that the man was leading him toward the manager’s office, up a hidden set of stairs off to one side of the stage. None of the other Jackals even saw them.

What did surprise him, however, was what happened when they got there. The door had barely closed behind them when he found himself shoved onto the air mattress in one corner, Bakura straddling his hips and staring down at him hungrily.

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now,” the thief growled, grinding his hips against Atemu’s. He moaned slightly as the lithe body beneath him bucked upward, bringing them into further contact. He was forced to lean over and plant his fists on either side of Atemu’s head to keep his balance.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for?” Atemu snarled. “Fuck me already.” For Bakura, that was all the confirmation he needed. Clothing was quickly shed in near violent action, and he groaned with pleasure when the hard, willing body beneath him was finally revealed. God, how had he managed NOT to notice how positively hot Atemu was? Probably because he had been too busy irritating the man to ever consider that he might get the chance to fuck him. Well, that was certainly about to change.

For a moment, he stopped to wonder just what the hell he was doing. What did Atemu want from him? A relationship? He didn’t do relationships, but Atemu didn’t seem to be one to do one night stands . . .

Lost in trying to figure out the mystery of the man beneath him, he didn’t notice when the blade got drawn from where it had been kept close at hand. In fact, he didn’t even notice Atemu moving until it was too late to stop it, and he found himself pinned beneath that body he’d been admiring just a moment ago. Magenta eyes widened as the dim light glittered off the silver blade. What the fuck . . . where had the blade come from?

“How much do you trust me, Thief?” Atemu asked quietly, studying his blade and the pale body beneath him equally. He deliberately used Bakura’s assumed name, hoping the man would understand what exactly he was asking. He leaned over, holding the knife teasingly close as he licked a trail along the side of that lean face to one ear, whispering into it. “I want to taste blood that isn’t my own, Bakura. I want to watch it decorate your skin so that I can lick it clean. If at any time you’ve had enough, just call out your brother’s name, and I’ll stop. My word as Yami, I will stop if you really want me to.”

Bakura moaned slightly, a shiver of anticipation running down his spine at Atemu’s words. Now that he knew what was going on, he wanted this more than ever. God, how long had it been since he’d looked forward to something like this?

He’d enjoyed pleasures of this sort with Marik . . . before Marik had become too rough and lost himself. Now, he couldn’t indulge this side of his nature . . . because the blonde was likely to kill him, even after the safe-word was uttered. True, he was a sadist, but he had a masochistic streak to him as well, and it rarely saw light anymore. Not since the last time he’d been with Marik . . . the time he’d nearly died.

He shoved that thought out of his head, gazing up into the crimson eyes above him steadily. The question was, did he trust Atemu to stop? He suspected that was why ‘Yami’ had used his Jackals name. Atemu was reminding him of the trust he’d already shown by admitting him into the gang.

Well, he’d never know unless he tried. And right now, his groin was very much screaming ‘go for it’. His mind was quite inclined to agree.

“How sharp is your blade?” he asked with a smirk, and watched the answering grin that blossomed on the face above him as he gave his assent to what was about to take place.

“Sharp enough to cut silken skin,” he whispered, brushing his lips across Bakura’s teasingly. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he added huskily.

With a shuddering breath, Bakura closed his eyes . . . and waited for the fun to begin.


AN - hehehehe . . . have to wait for the rest of the lemon until next chapter! *dashes into her bomb shelter* You know, this place is getting far too much use . . .