Feel on the Dark

Feel on the Dark
written by RL.Angstshipping
say good-bye to the hindering past;

Warnings: Boy!sex. Is it necrophilia if they're both dead?

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Third Sight

Like a Virgin

Though the dramatic undertones were ruined thanks to his companion, Bakura had to confess that the candlestick was a good idea. Lips curving into a malicious grin, the thief pulled away from Mariku and stepped towards the desk. Stroking the cool steel of the candle holder, his pale fingers curled around it. Though he couldn't feel the item in his grasp, there was a sense of satisfaction with what he was about to do. As he picked it up, the plate that originally held it moved ever so slightly, though the motion went unnoticed by the two living beings in the room. With the most conceited expression he'd had since they'd died, he raised the candle and brought it down heavily against the base of Malik's skull, cutting the Egyptian off in mid-sentence (an unimportant one, at that, as he'd been simply trying to persuade Ryou out of believing that it was real blood).

Grunting weakly, Malik fell forward and hit the floor with a loud thump. Too in shock to have caught the other, Ryou's hand immediately went to cover his mouth. "Malik!" The call was obviously late and pointless now. Under different circumstances, Ryou would have been fascinated, even excited, but right now? His best friend was lying on the floor, not moving. He kneeled down on the ground, trying to hover over Malik and make sure the other wasn't bleeding.

It hadn't occurred to him that he might be in danger, too. The force against his head came as a complete shock and with a thud, he hit the floor beside Malik.

With a dark smirk, Mariku approached Malik, examining the boy that could (soon) be considered his host. Giving Bakura one final look, he moved to lie in the exact position Malik was. As he'd predicted, he was able to summon enough energy to take control of the body. Automatically greeted with the excrutiating pain on the back of his head, he couldn't help but grin. Pain was one of those things that he'd always enjoyed and being able to feel it now, after so many years? With a pleased groan, he rubbed the back of his head, and slowly crawled to his feet. Vanity kicking in, he moved to the mirror, examining himself once more. The body looked almost identical to his old one and with him in control, the previously defiant violet eyes now looked pure evil. The one thing that distinguished him completely from the other, though, was the wound on his forehead, scarred over, but still pretty damned obvious. Keh, how dare that dirty old man ruin his perfect face?

At his side, Bakura watched curiously as his lover manuevered his new body, pleased that the other did such a decent job. With a smirk, the white-haired thief took his turn at "second life." A wave of nostalgia and pleasure ran down his spine as the pads of his fingers felt the roughness of the wood floor and the chill of the air. Not to mention the pounding pain in the back of his head. It was beautiful! A chuckle rose up in his throat though the sound was foreign -- louder than his own, perhaps? Higher in pitch?

What did any of that matter? He was actually talking. "Mariku!" The strangeness of his own voice filled the room again and he continued, "Maybe you do have a brain in there somewhere." In almost no time at all, he was at the other's side, fingers wrapping around Malik's collar, pulling the body against his own and kissing the violet-eyed thief roughly. God, just feeling this sensation again...

Mariku was about to reply when he felt the other's lips on his. For a moment, his mind wrestled with what was giving him the better sensation -- the throbbing pain in the back of his head or the pleasure from his partner's lips. He bit roughly at Bakura's lips, pulling back enough to whisper tauntingly, "You're laughing, darling. Does it hurt that badly?" His hands slid to Bakura's hips, nails digging in. In a matter of moments, he'd pressed Bakura back against the bed, pinning the paler thief down under him. "Because I'll be happy to make it hurt more."

Though Bakura had honestly almost forgotten how his natural reaction to pain was to laugh (unless, of course, it was during sex -- laughing continously during sex wasn't something he made a habit of doing), Mariku mentioning it forced the memory to snap back. "Che," was his only reply, teeth pressed together lightly, as he leaned in for another kiss. As his tongue slipped out, he could taste blood on his lip, the salty taste enough to jump his (well, Ryou's really) body into action. Pulling the other closer, he ravaged the other's mouth and face once again before he broke off, looking up with half-lidded eyes into the Egyptian's violet ones. "Then hurt me." His voice was quieter than he expected, full of lust, the one emotion his new body was practically screaming.

Breathing heavily, Mariku allowed the lustful feeling to sink in, sucking roughly on Bakura's tongue, occasionally letting his teeth grind against the muscle. It'd been far too long since he'd felt anything like this. One hand moving up to slide under the other's shirt, Mariku let his fingernails (it was amazing how perfect they were; Malik took damned good care of them) scrape along Bakura's chest. "... It's a shame these kids don't pack knives."

Knives? What did Bakura care about knives right now? All the sensations that were flowing through his body, ones that he could feel and feel so strongly, were almost enough to overwhelm him. His muscles were shuddering and he could feel his vision flickering. Gods above, it was worth it to die, just to feel everything bloom inside of him again like a hot, wonderous flame. "Aaohh, gods," he gasped, trying to recall if everything had felt this good when they were alive. With a loud groan, he dug his nails into the other's shoulderblades, dragging them down his lover's back.

Tanned fingers moving skillfully over Bakura's hips, Mariku worked on the other's zipper, body tingling with the sensation of the feel of fabric and rush of lust. Squirming, he pressed his lips to Bakura's neck, relishing for a moment in the other's taste. "Moan for me, you worthless whore," Mariku growled, pressing roughly into the other.

Bakura let his head press into the pillow, nerves so frazzled by everything that was going on, he was struggling to decide on what to do. His hands slipped down Mariku's back down to the other's hands, gripping ahold of them and forcing the fingers to pull the zipper on the other's jeans down. Had anyone else called him what Mariku just had, they would be dead but the tanned blonde? Bakura was used to him saying derogatory phrases like that when he was excited, though, it did spark lustful irritation in the paler of the two. Even still, he lifted his head back further, giving his lover better access to his neck. He felt a rumble bubble up in his throat and he opened his mouth slightly, letting out a deep, throaty moan, answering Mariku's words. He lifted his hips and pressed back against the other, panting already.

"Fucking bastard," he whispered in between breaths.

Realizing he'd already unzipped the other's pants, he slid one hand under the jeans and rubbed against the silky fabric of Ryou's boxers. "Bakura," he groaned, nipping harshly on the thief's neck, "gods, don't be so quiet." He was taunting, his hand doing everything but offering Bakura any sort of actual contact. "We're supposed to haunt the place right? Give them a scream that'll really scare them." Mariku had never been subtle; he'd always preferred noise and suffering, preferred to have his partner vocalize exactly how they were feeling.

And now Bakura was feeling true, physical frustration for the first time in a century. Mariku wanted him to be vocal? Fine. "Ah, you bastard!" he growled, voice slightly louder than a normal talking voice, before gritting his teeth and thrusting into the other's hand. The bite made him gasp before giving out a long, pleased groan. Mariku was taking this far too slowly. Wrapping his arms around his lover, he jerked and turned them over so that he was on top. He forced his mouth onto the other's, quickly undoing Malik's pants.

"Bast--" Cut off as Bakura flipped him over, he narrowed his violet eyes up at the other. Squirming under the touch, "You sick fuck, you can't possibly think that the first time in decades, I'm going to let you top me." Still, it was almost deja vu given that their first time together had ended up with Bakura on top. Then again, Mariku had been a little tipsy... so it didn't really count, right?

Smirking down at Mariku, breathing heavily, Bakura leaned down and bit down on the other's jaw before sucking on it. The taste of flesh was so intoxicating, he couldn't help but want more. Lifting up his lover's legs and jerking the pants off of him (or, more accurately, really far down enough so that he could get what he wanted out of the other), the paler of the two started to grind against the blonde. "You deserve it for putting us through this shit in the first place," he growled, "and I deserve a reward. So bend over, blondie." Of course, there really wasn't room nor was it possible for Mariku to "bend over", still, the saying held meaning enough.

Mariku glared up defiantly at the other, giving his own growl, "Putting us through this shit?" Mariku had nothing to do with their death and even if he had, he certainly wouldn't admit it now. "Not my fault but since I'm desperate, I'll let you have your way." His hands ran over Bakura's hips again, fingers studying the curves of the bones. "Nngh, at least let me dominate the kiss."

To Bakura, it almost felt as if he were falling back into a typical night of fun, though much more intense. Giving a soft, breathy laugh, Bakura pulled back enough to speak. "Fine," he answered, squirming out of the denim, boxers going down as well. "Now I want you to scream," he said, feeling a sense of power and irony as he spoke though he was too caught up in lust to care.

Mariku opened his mouth to protest -- he bowed to no one -- but the sensation of the air on his skin made his voice catch in his throat. The feeling was incredible, what followed even more so. Thankfully, Bakura wasn't one to torture slowly; he more preferred to get things done so it never took him long to "get started."

Bakura did get his scream, though, when he entered Mariku. "F-fuck!" His eyes widened for a moment, leaning up to kiss Bakura one more time, before he laughed, "Shit, I'm a virgin. I haven't had this feeling in a long time." It was amazing though. Pain was, after all, Mariku's greatest form of pleasure.

The term "virgin" being used to describe Mariku was truly hilarious. Bakura almost paused, mid-thrust, to give the other a cocky grin, but instead he didn't stop for a few more. Yes, he was a bastard, but so was his lover. Leaning in, he bit the blonde's neck, hands trailing down the other's sides, raking his nails over the flesh. "Good thing I'm not bottom," he purred, giving a chuckle alongside his words. "If your body is 'pure', we know this one is."

Lost in the ecstacy of pain, Mariku didn't notice that the true owner of the body was slowly regaining consciousness. Clinching the sheets, Mariku knew his body wouldn't last much longer; he was close to release. His body stiffened, eyes closed and...

Opened again, a startled, pained look on the Egyptian's lips. His eyes were now confused, dazed, and groggy. Malik shuddered, only for the fact that someone was on top of-- inside of? -- him to process clearly. A few more moments led him to discover just who it was.

Had he been raped? By Ryou? That didn't make sense.

Despite the pain, Malik couldn't deny the pleasurable feeling coarsing through his body. When he opened his mouth to speak, to inquire, it came out a pathetic moan, "Ryou?"

Bakura, who was panting more now than before, suddenly let his eyes open to look down at the one beneath him. He figured, at first, that the pained groans had been from the other's nearing release but now that he was staring down at his lover -- or his new lover -- he could tell that wasn't the case. Still, in his half-startled haze, he couldn't stop. No, he was not Ryou and Mariku would never call him that. Shit, had the boy returned? ... Gods, who gave a fuck when he was so close...

Grabbing on to the other's hips, he lifted them up a little, leaning down and biting Malik's jaw. Hey, why not milk this for all it was worth? "Try again," he said, voice low and sultry though his tone jerked everytime his middle did the same. "Oh gods." There it was. He could feel it. He was so damned close, he could already feel his muscles tighten and shudder, when suddenly he felt nothing but a lingering sensation of what he had almost had. Frustration hit him like a rock and he let out an aggravated sound.

In his place, Ryou, eyes as wide as they could go, opened his mouth into a gape and let out a strangled noise, his body falling onto Malik's. And having woken up into a white flash of pleasure, his brain was, for the moment, successfully fried.

End Third Sight