Furious Angels

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! still belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. Money is still not being made from this. Damn.

Hey, look! He's Han Solo!

This is not non-consensual sex, but it sure ain't healthy-relationship sex either.
~~~~~~~~~~~~


"She thinks my hairs ain't numbered
And when pricked I don't cry in pain . . .
And she thinks 'cause I'm saying nothing that I've got nothing to say
Just 'cause I smile like a child born yesterday"

The pounding on the door was very loud and very irritating. Bakura didn't bother to check who was there before opening it.

Malik darted inside and pressed himself against the wall beside the door, panting heavily. Bakura's eyes started to narrow as he looked at him, but then he picked up the faint sound of a siren. Malik slid further away from the door.

Bakura stayed still for a moment, looking outside and listening to the siren come closer. Then, without looking at Malik, he shut and locked the door before heading back to the kitchen.

Malik stayed where he was for another minute, getting his breath back. He touched a spot on his temple, wincing as the tenderness confirmed his suspicion that it would soon bruise.

Then he looked towards the kitchen doorway. Bakura was sitting at the table, bent over what was probably homework and steadfastly ignoring his presence. Malik closed his eyes briefly before toeing off his boots and dropping his duffel bag fall on the floor. It knocked over Bakura's schoolcase, which had been propped against the closet wall, so Malik bent down and put that back to rights. Then, without bothering to put on the guest slippers, he made his way to the couch and sprawled out. Malik pulled one of the pillows door hor his head before curling up.

Bakura glanced over at the couch a few times in the past hour as he finished his chemistry. It faced the wall, not the kitchen, but it still had a fairly low back. So when he never saw the blond moving, he eventually assumed that Malik was asleep and quit looking over. That was the only reason he didn't take a circular route through the room when he headed back to the closet to put away his homework.

Once Bakura was done, he headed back towards the kitchen to start dinner. Malik caught his arm when he walked past.

Bakura froze, and he continued staring forward as Malik sat up and leaned over the back of the couch to gaze at him.

"Ryô. . . ."

When Bakura finally deigned to turn and look at him, he noticed that Malik's expression wasn't as hard as usual.

"I'm sorry," the darker teen said.

Bakura shook his head. "You can stay here for a couple more hours. It'll be dark then, and the police will be gone." He tugged lightly on his arm.

Malik's eyes narrowed and he kept his grip. "And where am I supposed to go after that?"

"Isis-san gave you the ticket to fly home in that letter, didn't she? Go to the airport."

"I don't leave for another two days! And did you forget that I'm a foreigner?" Malik spat the last word out. "Where am I supposed to stay?"

Bakura pulled his arm free. "That isn't my problem," he said, beginning to walk away.

Malik scrambled off the couch and moved in front of Bakura, preventing the paler teen from leaving. "Damn it, Ryô, you can't just pull shit like this! I told you I'm sorry, didn't I?!"

Bakura glanced to the side as he tried to move past the other teenager. "Yes, you did."

Malik growled and suddenly shoved him backwards, causing Bakura to stumble against the arm of the couch. Malik shoved him again, and Bakura fell onto the cushions. When the paler teenager caught himself and tried to slide off, Malik grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down, bracing one knee on the couch and letting his other han hang over the arm. "Damn it, Ryô, will you just listen to me?!"

Bakura had tensed up even more, and he was staring at a point roughly around Malik's chin. ". . . get off of me," he said evenly.

Malik blinked, and then glanced down at Bakura's hands. The paler teen saw the movement and curled them up, but Malik had noticed the shaking. Malik shoved himself off the couch, and Bakura scooted back before standing himself.

Before Bakura could step away, Malik reached out and caught his elbow. The darker teen sat heavily on the couch, and Bakura was dragged down with him, having the option of either straddling Malik's legs or falling on the floor. He picked the former, bracing himself up on his knees so that he didn't have to touch the other teenager and gazing blankly towards the kitchen.

Malik exhaled loudly at that. Then he closed his eyes and let his head fall against the back of the couch. He let go of Bakura's elbow, sliding his hand down so that it was loosely gripping the paler teen's forearm.

Malik opened his eyes a moment later and watched Bakura not watching him.

"Ryô, please just look at me," he asked quietly. At his tone, Bakura finally shifted his gaze to look down at him.

"I'm sorry," Malik told him. "I just wanted to . . . I was . . . I don't know what I was thinking. How do I make it up to you?"

"Leave," Bakura said flatly.

"No," Malik replied. "I don't want to leave."

Bakura's face twisted up into a sneer. He shoved away from the darker teenager, but Malik tightened the grip on his arm before grabbing the other one as well.

Bakura tried to shove back again anyway. "I don't care if that's not what you want! I want you to leave! Get out of my life, you're not worth the trouble, just get out!"

"No."

Bakura's hands curled into fists as he glared down at Malik. "Do you not even realize that you do this? Asking and then never listening, ys dys doing whatever you want and assuming everyone will forgive you for it, you spoiled brat. . . ."

The words hurt Malik and pissed him off at the same time, but he managed not to show it. Much. Bakura glared down at his narrowed gaze, the half-sneer still on his face. He made another attempt to get away from the Egyptian, but Malik wouldn't let go.

Bakura half-growled under his breath, and then spat out, "Fine."

He leaned down abruptly and pressed his lips against Malik's, hard enough to feel the other teenager's teeth.

Malik blinked in surprise, and his grip faltered. Bakura wrenched one of his arms free, tangling his hand in Malik's hair before yanking the other teen's head back.

"Hey!" Malik hissed, but Bakura cut him off before he could continue. He shifted so that he was now sitting on Malik's legs, rocking harshly again the darker teen. Malik grunted at the rough friction, but soon he let go of Bakura's other arm, bringing both of his hands down to run over the paler teen's thighs and the curve of his ass before pulling him closer. Malik moved back from the kiss and bent his head to attach himself to Bakura's neck, wincing involuntarily since the other teen's hand was still twisted in his hair. Bakura made a soft noise at that, and at first he tilted his head back slightly. But then he tensed up, and the hand in Malik's hair tightened.

Bakura jerked Malik's head away from his throat, causing the othernagenager to hiss again, this time with more irritation. Bakura awkwardly shoved himself off the couch, and when Malik tried to stop him, he grabbed the Egyptian's wrist and pulled him up as well.

Malik stumbled onto his feet, and then Bakura shifted behind him and shoved down on one of his shoulders. Malik sank to his knees, before the surprise wore off and he caught himself by bracing his free hand on the carpet. He started to push up again, but Bakura draped himself over Malik's back, pressing the other teenager down until he was holding himself up with just one forearm. "Hey!" Malik snarled. "What are you--"

"I'll make a deal with you," Bakura purred, deliberately mocking his former parasite's voice. Malik jerked and froze for a moment, and Bakura grabbed the wrist that he wasn't already holding. He tugged Malik's arms forward, causing the other teenager to slip further down against the carpet, and placed Malik's hands against the nearby leg of the couch. He folded his hands over Malik's own, making the darker teen inadvertently follow suite. "If you let go, you leave. Permanently." He pulled his hands away from Malik's, and leaned on his forearms to whisper into the darker teen's ear. "Deal?"

The restrained anger was obvious in Malik's form and in the way his fingers tightened around the leg of the couch. He knew Bakura was waiting for him to sit up and shove him off, waiting for a justification -- a second one -- for throwing him out of the apartment. And he knew he was treading a thin line as it was. Bakura had heard the sirens; and though the other teenager had a record that would prevent him from calling the police, he could always get Yuugi or Anzu to do it. Malik's friendship with the paler teen was the only thing keeping him within the protective barrier of the group's loyalty, and they both knew it.

That wasn't the reason that Malik forced down his ire at being pushed around, though. He shifted his hands so that they were more comfortably wrapped around the couch leg, before saying, "Fine. Deal."

Bakura stilled and blinked down at the darker teenager in surprise. The he narrowed his eyes. He shoved himself up on his arms, unwilling to keep touching the other teen. "You. ." ." He didn't finish, and for several long seconds he just glared down at the Egyptian.

The collar of Malik's t-shirt was torn, Bakura noticed, and the rip was long enough that the fabric flapped over and revealed the aten hieroglyph and part of a wing. Bakura stared at the sun symbol for a few more moments before he suddenly sat back, legs splayed around Malik's waist and using the fleshy part of Malik's upper thighs as at. t. He shoved the darker teen's shirt up to his shoulders and ran his hands across the scars on his back.

Malik shuddered violently before tensing up.

Bakura's expression was a mixture of anger and vicious amusement, as he leaned down and ran his tongue along the grooves that displayed the ankh in the center of Malik's back. He trailed his fingers over the hieroglyphs that lined the sides and lower portion of Malik's back as well, not caring about tracing the arcane symbols -- they had never been more to him than another sign of the curse the other Yuugi had brought on him and Malik both -- because just touching them was enough. Though Malik had tensed up as much as possible, Bakura could still feel him shaking.

Bakura ran his tongue one last time over the bottom line of the ankh before straightening and shifting off of the other teenager. He curled his hands around Malik's upper thighs, urging the other teen to move onto his knees. For a moment Malik held still, and Bakura half expected the Egyptian to suddenly let go and punch him in the face. The bruise and possible broken bone would be worth it.

Instead, though, Malik let out a shuddery breath and scooted onto his knees, making sure not to let go of the peg in the process. Bakura glared down at him, and as he reached around the darker teen's waist he bent forward and ran his teeth along the left column of hieroglyphs below Malik's shoulder. Malik made a pained noise at that, and pressed his face into the thick carpet.

Bakura didn't care. He didn't want to hear Malik's smothered whimpers -- he just wanted to push the other teen far enough to get him out of his life. How far that had to be was up to Malik's stubbornness.

Undoing jeans from this angle was easier than doing it while standing in front of someone, so Bakura soon dipped his hands inside, sliding the denim and the cotton of Malik's boxers over the other teenager's hips before yanking them down to pool at his knees. Then he leaned back, one hand still running absently over the lines of a God card as the other thumbed open his own jeans.

Once Bakura had wrenched his pants somewhat lopsidedly to his mid-thighs, he wrapped one hand around himself, stroking in an effort to bring it to a full-fledged erection. He pulled his other hand away from Malik's scars and brought it to his mouth, slipping his fingers inside.

When Bakura had coated his palm with saliva, he switched hands and smeared the make-shift lube along his erection. It started to cool in the air, making Bakura shiver, so he reached out and nudged Malik's legs a little further apart. He added some more saliva, then quickly situated himself and pressed against the darker teen.

If Malik made any muffled noise at the rough friction, Bakura didn't hear it over his own sharp hiss. His fingers tightened on Malik's hips as he pushed inside.

Bakura pulled out and pushed in again, ono wio wind up biting his lip. It didn't feel good, not this time . . . the friction was too harsh. . . .

He tried to improve the situation, shifting his hips and changing to short, shallow strokes, but it wasn't enough. He . . . he ought to go get the real lube, it would feel better that way. . . .

The pain was starting to clear his head, scattering the remains of his anger, and his movements faltered even more. Bakura tilted his head up and looked at the teenager beneath him, noticing the strain in Malik's shoulders and the way his neck was curved from his face being pressed against the carpet. The darker teen's knuckles were discolored from gripping the couch peg so tightly.

This wasn't right. He didn't want to be a person like this. Bakura bent back down, his face twisted with two kinds of pain, and pressed his forehead against the ridges of Malik's spine. The shift caused his thumbnail to accidentally scrape over one of the lower hieroglyphs, and Malik fled. ed. The action made Bakura shiver as well. He didn't want to be a person like this. . . .

What was the point of getting rid of the thief if he was only going to turn into him?

Bakura shoved back abruptly and pulled out of Malik, and both teenagers winced at the harsh motion. His erection, which had already been flagging, faded more in the coolness of the apartment's air.

Bakura scooted backwards on his knees a little, before losing the ability to hold himself up and sinking onto his side on the carpet. Biting his lip again, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. When it began to waver, he squeezed his eyes shut and ground the heels of his palms against them.

For a long time, the strangled sound of Bakura's breathing was the only audible noise.

Finally, though, Malik spoke up. "Ryô?"

The paler teen flinched at the sound of his name. A moment later he asked dully, "What?"

"Can I let go now?"

Bakura went very still.

It took him nearly half a minute to make himself reply, and then another half-minute to get his voice to work. "Yes," he answered roughly. He didn't bother to move his hands away from his eyes to look at the darker teen.

Unclenching his fingers from around the couch leg, Malik flexed them for a moment before bracing a hand on the cushions. He pulled himself into his knees with a wince. He worked his jeans back up his hips, but left them loose, without bothering to zip or button them.

The slight erection he'd had earlier had disappeared the moment Bakura touched his scars.

He stared over at the paler teen for a moment. Bakura was still covering his eyes, and his chest was heaving as he tried to force his breath into something less ragged. Malik ran his gaze over the other teen's partially unclothed body, his eyes lidding slightly as he did. Then he shifted to the side and sank back onto his hands and knees. He crawled over to Bakura, ignoring the small jolt of pain the action caused.

When he reached the paler teen, Malik tugged Bakura's jeans down. Bakura shivered once, but lay there passively as Malik pulled the jeans over his knees and lifted one of his legs out of the denim.

The Egyptian frowned when he spotted a bruise on the outside of Bakura's calf. He knew it hadn't been there when he left a day and a half ago.

Malik ran a finger gently over the bruise and glanced up at Bakura's face, but the other teenager hadn't moved. Malik stared at him for another moment, trying to discern Bakura's emotions from the half of his face that wasn't covered, but it was too hard -- Bakura was so good at hiding inside himself.

Malik closed his eyes briefly, before opening them again and dipping his head down to lick the inside of Bakura's knee. Bakura started at that, and Malik pushed his legs open further so that he could run his tongue slowly up the paler teen's inner thigh.

When he reached the juncture between Bakura's pelvis and leg, Malik slipped one hand down to cup the sac and gently rolled it in his palm, making the other teenager groan softly. Malik lifted his head at that, using his free hand to wrap around Bakura's re-hardening erection. Malik almost smiled when the flesh twitched in his palm, and then he bent down to lick the tip.

Bakura stirred slightly. "Don't . . ." he mumbled. "It's gross."

Malik didn't listen to him, but it wasn't a surprise. Malik didn't listen to anyone but his family, and even that was if The The darker teen hooked his lip over his bottom teeth and began working Bakura's growing erection down his throat.

Bakura didn't make a second protest -- Malik's mouth was warm and wet and felt very good. He pressed the heels of his hands harder against his eyes even as he began shifting his hips unsteadily, ignoring the uncomfortable scraping of the carpet as he tried to get more of what Malik was offering.

After Malik had adjusted, he began a slow, steady pace, sliding his mouth almost to the base before swallowing around Bakura as he pulled back up. One of his hands was resting lightly on the paler teenager's hip, while the other was still cupped his balls. Malik rubbed his thumb in small circles over the soft skin there as Bakura began to rock harder against him.

Malik started slightly when one of the paler teen's hands touched his head. Bakura slid his fingers through the strands of hair near the nape of Malik's neck, urging the blond to move faster. Malik let it stay there and did as Bakura wanted, sliding further down the other teen's erection and swallowing harder. He fondled the other teen's sac a little more roughly as well.

Bakura bucked up into his mouth, and since the hand that Malik had on his hip wasn't holding him down, it made the darker teen gag slightly before he adjusted to the faster pace. He could feel the increasing tension in Bakura's muscles as he got closer and closer to release, and Malik slid his lips all the way to the base and swallowed again, before humming.

"Aah!" Bakura moaned, bumping his stomach into Malik's nose as he arched his back. He jerked and stilled a moment later, and Malik coughed and pulled his head back as semen began to spurt into his mouth. He swallowed most of it, even though he thought the taste was disgusting in large quantities -- he didn't want to deal with a mess on the carpet.

Malik wiped his mouth and hand off on the loose leg of Bakura's jeans when he finished, before crawling slightly up the other teenager's body. He stretched out on top of Bakura, his head resting on the paler teen's collarbone and his hand curled over the opposite shoulder. Bakura's other hand had fallen away from his face earlier.

They lay there for several long minutes, without words, until Bakura swallowed and spoke in a quiet, bitter voice: "How do you always manage to get what yout?"t?"

Malik didn't reply for another minute, and when he did, it was only the same words that he always said. "I love you."

For the first time, Bakura answered.

"I know."

Malik had always been one for pushing his luck. "Do you love me?"

"No."

The darker teen's hand twitched, but that was all. A moment later he asked, "Did you ever?"

It took Bakura a while to reply. ". . . I don't know."

Malik didn't say anything to that. He just repositioned himself to lie more comfortably on the other teen.

He was half-drifting into sleep when Bakura shifted and started to move out from under him. Malik tightened his grip on the other teen's shoulder.

Bakura lifted a hand and pushed at his arm. "I have to make dinner, Malik-kun. . . . When was the last time you ate?"

If life had a sense of comic timing, Malik's stomach would have growled. But life was just life, so it didn't happen. The Egyptian moved off of Bakura a moment later and sat up. Bakura pulled his jeans back up and stood, redoing the zipper and button as he walked a little awkwardly towards the kitchen.

When Malik heard the sink begin to run, he stood as well and headed toward the bathroom.

By the time he got out, hair still damp from the shower, dinner was on the table. Bakura and Malik ate in silence.


~